Lair of the Lion

by Christine Feehan

  Gratefully Violante turned her attention to the wares. They hurried to the long rows of stalls, exclaiming over the various treasures they found.

  Isabella found the people of the holding pleasant and informative. They crowded around her eagerly, wanting to meet her. Violante stayed close, agreeable and friendly but making certain Isabella had room to move through the many stalls and stands. Violante became distracted when she spotted a carved box the perfect size for trinkets she had acquired, but as she reached for it, another woman lifted it up for inspection.

  Isabella shook her head as an argument broke out between the two women. She knew the other woman would not get the carved box if Violante wanted it. Violante could be tenacious.

  A fluttering of color caught Isabella's attention as a woman with a mane of flowing black hair disappeared around the corner of a building. She moved much as Francesca did and was of her height and build. Few women wore their hair unbound. The color of her gown was unusual, too--a starburst of royal blue she had seen before. Certain it was Francesca, Isabella hurried down the row and turned up a narrow walkway. No one was in sight. She quickened her steps, peering down several side paths that led to small courtyards and also to a network of other walkways that meandered through the city. After several minutes of searching, Isabella sighed and turned back toward the marketplace. No one managed to disappear quite as quickly as Francesca.

  A long row of large buildings caught her attention. They were beautiful and carved with the inevitable lions. She walked slow toward them, studying the various renditions of the huge beast. Isabella found them fascinating. Something about their eyes, no matter how they were depicted, drew her attention. The eyes seemed alive, as if they were watching her from every direction. She turned first one way and then another, but always the eyes were watching.

  Although the buildings blocked the wind, she shivered, drawing her cloak closer. It was growing late, and she found she was inexplicably weary. Shadows were lengthening, and the multitude of stairs and pathways grew gray. She became aware of the silence, and a chill slid down her spine. Isabella turned to head back in the direction of the marketplace. She slipped on a patch of ice and went down hard, striking her back against the corner of a building. The talon marks were healing, but they throbbed now, reminding her of her frightening encounter. She sat up carefully, looking around, wishing she were in out of the snow.

  It took several tries to get to her feet on the icy walkway. As the shadows grew, the temperature dropped, and the cold was piercing. The walkway glistened with ice. It might be wiser to choose a less slippery path. Isabella took a narrow, less steep walkway without stairs and began to walk down it. She was hoping it would lead straight to the marketplace at the center of the city, but the path opened into a courtyard. Sculptures were scattered around, but she saw no people.

  She stood still in a moment of indecision. If she took the time to find her way back to the marketplace through the unfamiliar maze of buildings and paths, it might be dark by the time she made her way out. It seemed a better idea to return to the palazzo. It was high above the city, and all she had to do was make her way uphill. There would be no missing the enormous castello. She was certain Violante would go there as soon as she realized Isabella had lost her way.

  Lucca would laugh at her for getting lost. It wasn't often she managed to lose her way, yet twice now she had gotten turned around. Almost as if everything had deliberately shifted on her. The thought was chilling and brought back the strange sense of being watched. Isabella clamped down on her wild imagination. Buildings couldn't move. But then, men couldn't become lions.

  The feeling of being watched persisted. Isabella glanced around. There was a large statue of a lion in the courtyard. It seemed to be watching her, but that didn't account for the heavy weight of malevolence she felt. Abruptly she began to walk along a narrow path that led upward. She was uncertain why she saw no people. Did they go into their homes as the sun went down to prevent a disaster with a stray lion? A chill went down her spine again at the thought.

  She heard it then. Soft. Barely discernable. A huffing noise. A whisper of fur sliding against something solid. She began to walk faster up the path, huddling in her cloak, her heart pounding with each step. She felt its presence. Knew it was stalking her, following her scent. Moving deliberately slow to terrorize her.

  Nicolai? Would he do such a thing to teach her a lesson? Was the curse unfolding because he had lain with her? He had watched her from the battlements as she spoke with Sergio. He had even sent Sergio some missive warning him away from her. She had been certain that he had come into her room the night before. That something had visited her room. She shivered again and rubbed her arms for warmth. She had felt eyes on her in the night. She should have felt Nicolai's arms, but he had left her alone. Was he jealous enough to stalk her, hunt her down, and devour her?

  Isabella went very still, ashamed of herself. She recognized the subtle flow of power directed at her. It fed her doubts, fed her fears. If she didn't believe in Nicolai, in his strength, no other ever would. She would not think it was Nicolai. She would not give in to the curse. Nor would she allow the entity any influence over her. But she knew she was in grave danger.

  Isabella clutched at the fastening of her cloak as if she could feel the lion sinking its teeth into her throat. She heard the peculiar grunting noise the lions often made. A beast was definitely trailing her. Isabella rounded a corner, and her heart nearly stopped. For a moment she was certain she had come to a dead end. A line of buildings blocked her way.

  "Nicolai." She whispered his name. A talisman. "Nicolai," she said aloud as she raced toward two buildings that looked as if they might be homes. "Nicolai!" She called his name as loudly as she could, a sob in her voice as she rushed to the door of the nearest house and pounded on it. The lion huffed again. It was much closer. And no one was home, the door secure. Isabella felt the swell of triumph in the air. Of evil. She wasn't alone with the lion. The entity was there. Real. Seething with malevolence. It filled the small area between the houses with a thick cloud of venom.

  "Isabella!" She heard Nicolai's voice and went weak with relief, sinking to the steps in front of the building. "Answer me!" There was panic in Nicolai's voice.

  "Here, Nicolai, I'm here." She knew he would hear the fear and relief in her voice. "Hurry! There's a lion."

  She saw it then, the dark shape hidden in the shadows. Its eyes glowed a fierce red loathing of her. Isabella stared back, mesmerized by such intense hatred. The creature sank into a crouch, watching her, hating her.

  "Isabella! If anything dares to harm you, nothing, no one will be safe in this valley," he vowed. She could hear the pounding of his horse's hooves as he followed her scent through the maze of streets. There was an edge to his voice, as if he had reached out to control the beast and found it resistant.

  She strained to see the lion, but it was well in the shadows. Only the eyes were clear, glowing at her with a wicked promise. The lion was aware of Nicolai's approach, and it snarled once, revealing huge teeth that gleamed at her from the shadows. Suddenly the beast whipped around and simply disappeared between the buildings.

  Nicolai rode around the corner at a dead gallop and had to pull up his horse before it trampled her. He was out of the saddle before the animal even stopped. His face was pale, his hair wild. He dragged her into his arms and crushed her to him. "I'm going to tie you to my side." It was a vow, nothing less. His hands framed her face, forcing her head up so he could find her mouth with his. Fear welded them together.

  His hands ran over her, searching every square inch of her, needing to make certain that she was all in one piece. It had driven his breath right out of his body, that sudden knowledge among the lions that his woman was being hunted. "Isabella, this can't go on. It has to stop. You're driving me out of my mind with your heedless ways." His hands tightened on her arms, and he shook her. "You're in danger. Why can't you understand that? From me, from this valley,
from everyone. You're so fearless, so headstrong, you don't seem to be able to stay out of trouble for one moment." He shook her again and then once more blotted out the world, his mouth finding hers somewhere between anger and sheer terror.

  And then they were both out of control, kissing wildly, tearing at each other's clothes, trying to find skin, oblivious to the darkness, the cold, the enmity of the lion that had been stalking her. She wanted the solace and heat of his body, the joining of their bodies. She wanted him to fill her completely so that she could think only of him, of pleasure.

  He pushed her deeper into the shadows, forcing her against the wall of the building deep within the courtyard. His mouth was hot and dominant, a wild response to his fear. He tugged at the string of her neckline, loosening her top so that he could shove the material down, exposing her breasts to his exploration.

  Isabella slid one leg up his, nearly as wild as he was, pressing tightly against his thick arousal, rubbing her body against his. It was wicked to be standing outside with her breasts exposed to him, but she loved it, loved watching him look at her. Her nipples hardened in the cold air, and she cried out when he cupped the weight in his hands and bent to suckle. At once his mouth was driving her crazy with need, making her weak so that she clung tighter to him, her leg wrapped around his waist to align her body more perfectly with his.

  "It's too cold out here for you," he whispered as his teeth skimmed her nipples and his tongue stroked caresses over her breasts. His mouth, hot and moist, was branding her, claiming her for his own.

  "Then warm me up, Nicolai, right here, right now."

  "It's going to have to be fast, piccola. Are you certain you're ready for me? I don't want to hurt you." He was already checking for himself, sliding his hand up her thigh to find her heated, damp entrance. He pushed into her even as he pressed her tighter against the wall. "I want to make certain, cara," he said, lifting her to an outcropping on the wall, bunching her skirt around her waist. He wrapped her legs around his neck.

  "Nicolai!" She sobbed his name, her fists clenched tightly in his hair for anchor as he stroked his thumb over her core.

  He bent his head and replaced his hand with his mouth, his tongue stabbing deeply. Her body went wild, bucking against him, fragmenting, so that she was pleading with him to stop even as she held his head to her. He felt the orgasm take her, again and again, before he lifted his head, satisfied she was ready for him.

  "You'll have to help me. It's cold tonight, and that can take away a man's ability," he said as he allowed her feet to touch the ground. He was unfastening his breeches, his body already hot and thick.

  "Tell me, Nicolai," she pleaded. "I want you so much right now."

  "Keep me hot. Take me in your mouth, Isabella." He guided her head. "Wrap your fingers around me and squeeze gently, firmly. Dio!" He gasped as her mouth took possession of him, hot and tight and untutored but willing. He guided her as best he could when he could barely stand with the waves of pleasure washing over him. His hands found the back of her head even as his hips thrust helplessly.

  He watched her through half-closed eyes, marveling at her ability to please him in every way. He loved her body, her mind, and now even her mouth was priceless. Before he could embarrass himself, he dragged her up and simply lifted her in his arms, resting her weight against the building. "Wrap your legs around my waist."

  Isabella pulled her skirt aside and locked her ankles behind his back. She could feel him pressed tightly against her. Slowly he lowered her body so that she settled over the thick length of him, inch by delicious inch, an agony of pleasure. At first Nicolai allowed her the lead, watching her face, her dreamy, sultry expression as she began to move, began to ride him. She was strong, her muscles firm and tight. She started slowly, loving the way she could lift her hips and clench her muscles to bring him even greater pleasure.

  "You like that, don't you?" she whispered.

  Nicolai nodded, unable to speak, as he tightened his grip on her hips. He began to thrust upward hard as he brought her body down to meet his. She gasped, clutching at his shoulders, fingers biting into his skin. He did what she needed most--drove out every worrisome thought until there was only the reality of Nicolai, his body taking hers with hard, long strokes, burying himself deeply inside her while her body gripped his and wound tighter and tighter until she let go, flying high, soaring free, exploding with sheer elation. They came together there in the darkness with danger surrounding them, with snow on the ground and in the midst of a city. They came together in fire and passion.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Isabella lay beneath the coverlet, grateful for the warmth of the fire. It lent the room a feeling of safety. She watched Nicolai light the candelabra on the mantel; watched the way his muscles moved and flexed beneath his shirt. She hadn't realized how cold she was until she dressed for bed. All too conscious of Nicolai intending to share her bedchamber, she had donned fine intimate apparel and found it less than satisfactory at keeping her warm. The lace hugged her breasts and slithered over her waist and hips, sinfully clinging to her every curve. Shivering, she almost exchanged it for a warmer gown, but its sensuous beauty was too much to resist.

  For the first time she was confused, even embarrassed, over her wanton behavior with Nicolai. She had been so frightened, knowing she was stalked by a lion. Then she had been so relieved to see him, to know he wasn't the predator. Then...She bit her lower lip and turned her face into the feather pillow. She had been out of control, wanting him with every fiber of her being, wanting his possession of her to drive away all thought, leaving only feelings. The things they had done together...She wondered if it meant she was wicked beyond redemption. She wished her mother were alive to advise her. She had no one to turn to. No one other than Nicolai.

  Nicolai had lit the fire himself, arranged for hot tea and biscuits, and had called his most trusted servants, Betto and Sarina, instructing them that someone was to be watching over Isabella at all times when she moved about the palazzo. It should have annoyed her, but it made her feel cherished. He had, of course, gone to his own apartments but had used the hidden passageway to return to her bedchamber the moment the castello settled down for the night.

  Nicolai looked down at her pale face, the shadows that his valley, his people, even he, had put in the depths of her eyes. Unable to keep from touching her, he smoothed back her hair with gentle fingers. "I know this has been a trying day for you. I just want to hold you, piccola, hold you close to me and comfort you."

  She turned over to lie on her back and look up at his beloved face, drinking in every detail, every line. She loved looking at him. His wild hair and unusual eyes. His broad shoulders and tall, muscular body. Even the scars on his face seemed to belong, giving him a mysterious, dangerous aura.

  He was enormously strong, yet his touch on her skin could be incredibly gentle. His eyes could blaze with fierce possessiveness, burn hot with desire, or be as cold as ice, yet stark need would suddenly creep into his gaze. He exuded confidence, a man born to power, yet at those times vulnerability would be etched into every line of his face. He could make her weak with desire with one look; another look could have her struggling to control her temper. Nicolai DeMarco was a man who needed a woman to love him. And God help her, she did.

  She couldn't resist him. She couldn't resist his need of her, his elemental hunger for her. A part of her wanted to hide, to run away from all that had happened between them. Another part wanted comfort, wanted to be held in his arms, close to his body. She said nothing at all, just watched as he purposefully undressed, completely at ease with his nakedness. Propriety dictated she look away, not stare at him with such matching hunger, but it was impossible, and deep inside her the butterfly wings fluttered and warmth spread.

  Nicolai lifted the coverlet and slid in beside her. "I know you're tired, cara mia. I see it in your eyes, and I want you to sleep. I just want to hold you close. You are so soft and warm, and you feel so right in my arms." Hi
s voice was a sorcerer's whisper in her ear. His breath was a warm enticement. He pulled her close to him and fit her tightly into the curve of his body. It all felt far too intimate there in the flickering candlelight with the memory of their recent, wanton passion still burning in her mind.

  Isabella closed her eyes to block out the sight of him, but it was impossible to block out the masculine scent of him, the feel of his hard muscles imprinted on her body. His arms crept around her waist, his hands locked beneath her breasts. She was acutely aware of the way his fingers moved, seeking her skin beneath the lace of her gown. Her skin felt hot, and her breasts were full and aching for his touch.

  They lay for some time in silence, with only the fire crackling and popping and the flickering flames from the candles throwing dancing figures on the wall. Feeling protected and treasured, Isabella snuggled closer against his solid frame.

  Nicolai pressed his mouth into the nape of her neck, then felt his erection swelling and thickening against her body. He let it happen, savoring his need of her, determined he would let her rest. He could have her again and again. Share her bed. Her body. Her thoughts. Her heart and soul. Touching her would be enough for now. Tasting her. Knowing she was in bed beside him, that her body craved his with the same hunger he felt. He moved one hand up to her breast to cup the warmth. Soft flesh filled his palm. Lazily his thumb caressed her nipple through the delicate lace.

  Isabella shifted restlessly. "How am I supposed to go to sleep?" Her voice held a soft, sensuous note, a hint of laughter, and no reprimand.

  He lifted his head to nuzzle the valley between her breasts, his tongue sliding over her skin, his hands carefully pushing the lace aside. "You go to sleep and dream of me. Take me with you wherever you go, bellezza. Take the feel of my hands and mouth with you so no one dares to creep in to disturb your dreams." His tongue flicked at a nipple, once, twice, his hand kneading with exquisite gentleness. He lowered his head and drew her into his hot mouth.