he easily lured people into his bed.
She would not be the victim of such an obvious ploy. She picked up his hand from her shoulder and unwrapped his arm from around her. She placed his hand back in his own lap. “I would ask that you stop doing that.”
“You’re no fun,” Nero grumped at her.
“She’s smart, is what she is.” Kema chuckled. “I like you, Hope. I think we will be friends.”
She smiled over toward the woman. “I would like that. And you must tell me of Egypt later. I have never been, and I am fascinated by the gods you keep.”
“They aren’t so dissimilar. Once you look past the faces of animals that they wear, they are no better or worse than your gods. I would love to tell you of them and of my land. Tonight at the party, perhaps. If Nero will part with the lady of honor, of course.”
“I suppose she’ll need a break from the attention I plan to pay her.” Nero’s voice became sultry and a low, dark purr. It made her shiver.
Pushing past it, she forced herself to smile again at Kema, ignoring him. “I look forward to it.”
A party in her honor.
What a strange notion.
Nero was having a blast. He always did at these events. He had a glass of wine in his hand. He had music. He had company. There was laughter. There was fun. This was what life was about. He patted one of the senators on the back in greeting as he passed. He was Cardinal. He was the consul of Rome. But he still had to play politics. It was a game he had become good at over the years.
Mostly because he always won.
He was the emperor. But there was always the chance of a dagger in the darkness—of betrayal. And so he kept his friends. He did right by as many of the senators as he could. And he paid off the ones he couldn’t.
One of them waved him over. He had been eager to go find Hope, but he obediently derailed his path through his house to go speak to the man in question. He was short, old, round, and otherwise immemorable. “Flavius, how are you? Enjoying yourself?”
“Yes, Lord Nero, what a wonderful party. You always throw the best.” The man smiled. The creases in his neck and his two extra chins waggled with the expression. “Tell me, I’m so very curious—you? A religious advisor? And a priestess of Hera no less! Whatever has come over you?”
“Maybe I’m seeking a bride.”
The man laughed. A little too hard. Nero joined him but couldn’t keep the malice from his, and the senator paled. “You’re joking. You? A bride? Does this trouble with the East Wind still have you down?”
“I’m getting older, friend.” Nero shrugged dismissively. “High time I pick the one I want to keep, don’t you think? I don’t want end up fat and alone like some people.” Nero patted the man heavily on the shoulder. Just a bit too hard. It would get his point across.
“I—ah—er—yes,” Flavius stammered. His jowls jiggled like a bad jelly mold. Nero made a face and walked away without another word. He hated people sometimes. He really did. Who did that sniveling little piece of shit think he was dealing with?
I am Nero. I am the South Wind!
Nero could marry. He was sure of it. But the way the senator had said it, it made it sound like he was somehow undesirable.
He was many things. Violent. Insane. A hedonist. But never once had he ever been undesirable. He would make a good husband. He’d just have to prove it. And once Nero set his mind on something, he’d burn the heavens to see it done. And now he had his mind set on one particularly well-endowed target.
And there she was. His mood improved the moment he saw Hope sitting on one of the chaise lounges. She had a glass of wine in her hand. Good. Progress. He wanted to get the girl drunk. Not very drunk, just a little. Just enough to smooth over her fear and inspire her to relax long enough to really talk to him.
And maybe a kiss or two.
But he’d stop it there. He wasn’t going to play the knave. He wouldn’t have her wake up with a hangover and a heaping pile of regret.
But a stolen kiss or two, he could live with. Hope was sitting with Kema, smiling and laughing with the bronze-skinned princess. He