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With a grunt, she kicked the toe of his boot.

Dante’s eyes snapped open, and his knives flashed toward her.

Fifteen

L’uomo propone, Dio dispone.

What man proposes, god disposes.

Alessa stumbled back, yelping as the door handle jabbed her side.

Dante jerked away, and his snarl faded. Looking anywhere but directly at her, he sheathed his blades.

“Sorry.” For the first time, he sounded like he meant it.

“You’re supposed toprotectme, not attack me,” Alessa said.

“I warned you not to sneak up on me.”

“You wereasleep!In ahallway! You can’t stab everyone who walks by.” She rubbed her chest as her heart fought to escape her ribs. “Do you always carry those?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “In case someone sneaks up on me.”

She rolled her eyes, which somehow managed to hurt.

She’d already been losing hold of the broken pieces of herself before her bodyguard had nearly killed her, and now her bruises throbbed, and every breath burned. By the time they reached the fourth floor, Alessa had to stop and clutch the wall, silently begging the darkness in the periphery of her vision to retreat.

“You okay?” Dante asked.

She nodded, lips pressed together for one steadying breath so she didn’t vomit on his shoes. “I need to visit the salt baths.”

“Can you do that without drowning?”

“A risk I’m willing to take.”

He made a noncommittal sound.

Dante followed her down the narrow staircase off her suite. The air grew warm and thick with salt as they descended, pink crystal lanterns diffusing a rosy glow across the white stone. Droplets condensed on the tips of her hair, already wet with sweat, curling the ends into tight coils.

“See? It’s perfectly safe.” She gestured to the rippling surface of the pool. A constant current carried the hot spring’s fresh water in and stale water out.

Dante sat on the stairs. “I won’t look.”

Heat climbed her neck, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. She’d have to trust him to keep his word.

The warm pool called, offering relief. She’d need it to pull herself together before the Fontes arrived. The high salt content made her so buoyant she doubted shecouldsink, but if it came down to a choice between having Dante haul her naked body out or drowning, she’d stay quiet.

Besides, she wouldn’t have to endure the mortification if she was dead, and, bonus, she wouldn’t have to welcome a pack of terrified Fontes in a few hours.

Casting furtive glances over her shoulder, she shed her clothes and stepped into the water. The stonemasons who’d shaped the pool centuries ago had recognized bodies weren’t made of right angles and the surfaces below the water were carved in a pleasing mix of slopes and curves. She settled herself in a curved hollow with a sound that would have been a moan if she hadn’t caught sight of Dante’s boots as he stretched his legs. He couldn’t be comfortable, but he didn’t complain.

From a covered ceramic jar by the side of the pool, Alessa scooped a palmful of the aromatic oil that floated atop a mixture of lemon juice and coarse sea salt, gingerly massaging it between her neck and shoulders.

“Whatisthat?”