distracted him, pulling his focus from the burnt body at his feet. The body was common. He’d killed a lot of men in his life.
But her? She was something special. For a long moment, he was stunned into silence. She really was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in…maybe ever.
“Nero?” she prompted again at his silence. Something about the strained look on her face told him that she might already know the answer to her question about the smell.
“Um…well…” Now he didn’t know what to say. The truth and scare her? Or claim that somebody botched breakfast in a spectacular fashion?
“Our dear Cardinal here,” Kema stepped in for him when he couldn’t find his words, “took exception to the fact that one of the senators saw fit to betray his confidence and ruin a deal.” Kema had watched the whole argument and incineration play out, utterly bored. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it happen. Wouldn’t be the last.
“That smell is…” Hope paused, and color drained from her face as she clearly put it together. “Oh.”
“I dislike being betrayed more than anything else.” Nero rolled his sleeves back down. If he didn’t push them up when he summoned his fire, he’d ruin his shirt. And he did just get dressed. He left the cuffs undone. No point in fussing about it. “It’s about the quickest way to piss me off.”
“It isn’t hard to piss you off, old boy.” Kema grinned.
“I said the quickest.”
“You saw fit to kill him for his betrayal?” Hope asked. “By burning him alive?” She took a step back from the scene. He was glad she couldn’t see it. The smell of badly cooked meat was bad enough. The sight of it would probably send her off in tears.
“Kema, get the servants to clean this up, will you?”
“Yeah, boss.” Kema shook her head and walked away. He wanted to be alone with Hope, and he got another eyeroll from his assistant at the blatant ploy.
Hope took another step back. He moved toward her. Hearing his footsteps, or because of those bracers, she retreated quickly and tried to escape him.
Growling, he reached out and snatched her arm and yanked her back to him. “No. You will not run from me.”
She froze, locking up tight in his arms.
So much for trust.
He gritted his teeth and let out a low sigh, trying to school his anger. It never really worked. But he did his best to try. At least for her. “He was a traitor. He was working to ruin me. I did what I had to do.”
“You could have had him stand trial. Sent to jail. Instead you…you killed him.”
He grinned. “Yup. I’ve killed a whole lot of people in my life.” She cringed at the malice in his voice. He almost felt bad. Almost. But not really. “I am what I am, pretty girl.”
“I didn’t hear any screaming.”
“My fire is fast. I set him ablaze from the inside out. He barely felt any pain, if that makes you feel better.”
“Not—not really.”
He paused. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”
She wailed in dismay and tried to yank out of his grasp, but he didn’t let her.
“What? What’d I say? Oh! No, I don’t mean eat him, you silly girl! I mean—eat breakfast. Normal breakfast. Not roast senator.” He laughed. “Wouldn’t that be something? Roast senator! What a wild idea.”
“No, I think I’ve quite lost my appetite, thank you.” She yanked on her arm again.
She wanted to run from him.
It wasn’t going to happen. He grabbed her by both arms and pulled her to him. “Nobody runs from me, Hope. Nobody.”
Nobody runs from me.
She shivered at his anger. At how final it sounded. He had killed a man—set him on fire! She could smell it, thick in the air like a rancid cloud. It reeked of smoke, and the terrible smell of burnt flesh. Like a steak left on the fire for too long. Or an entire pig.
She was trembling now; she knew it. She was glad she couldn’t see the remains. She was glad she couldn’t see the grin she knew he must have had plastered on his face from the sound of his voice.
It would have been so easy to forget who he was. Last night, she had wanted to try. She had wanted to brush away all the rumors of his violence.
She had been a fool.
She heard people nearby and the sound of brooms on stone. Likely sweeping up whatever was left of the man. “How many, Nero?”
“Huh?”