Fire Maidens: Rome
Page 1
Fire Maidens: Rome
Billionaires & Bodyguards
by
Anna Lowe
Book 3
Fire Maidens: Rome
Copyright © 2019 by Anna Lowe
author@annalowebooks.com
Editing by Lisa A. Hollett
Proofreading by Donna Hokanson
Cover art by Kim Killion
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.
Sincere thanks to my team of star beta readers who take time from their busy lives, careers, and families to make a good story great. Colleen, Jen, Linda, Cindy, Renee, and Beth — thank you all so much!
Other books in this series
Fire Maidens - Billionaires & Bodyguards
Fire Maidens: Paris (Book 1)
Fire Maidens: London (Book 2)
Fire Maidens: Rome (Book 3)
Fire Maidens: Portugal (Book 4)
Fire Maidens: Ireland (Book 5)
visit www.annalowebooks.com
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Desert Wolf: Friend or Foe (Book 1.1 in the Twin Moon Ranch series)
Off the Charts (the prequel to the Serendipity Adventure series)
Perfection (the prequel to the Blue Moon Saloon series)
Contents
Other books in this series
Fire Maidens Rome
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Fire Maidens: Portugal
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Fire Maidens Rome
New Yorker Lena Castamolino is in trouble. Big trouble. Every time the full moon shines, her body tries to turn into a wild beast, and she has no idea why. Her skin turns leathery, and her shoulders begin the agonizing transformation into wings. Wings! Could it have to do with her recent move to Rome — a magical city that called to her for years? Or does the answer lie in the father who abandoned her at birth? Either way, she needs help, because all the grit and determination in the world can’t stop the moon — or the evil forces hot on her trail.
Eternal City? Eternal banishment is more like it, at least for a member of the despised Monseratti clan. But wolf shifter Sergio Monseratti has been granted one last chance to return to the city he loves, and he’s not about to blow it. To be absolved of his family’s crimes, he has to bring down a ruthless mafia boss. He can’t afford any distractions, and he absolutely, positively cannot fall in love with the mysterious woman who could be the key to saving the city, no matter how high the passion between them builds.
Dazzling starlets, billionaire playboys, vengeful enemies, power-hungry dragons, secret heirs… It’s impossible to know who to trust, but one thing is for sure — destiny is on the move, and Rome is its stage.
Chapter One
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* * *
Lena race-walked down the narrow sidewalk, balling her hands into fists. A Fiat Punto zoomed past, its headlights stabbing her eyes. Somewhere in the distance, a bar erupted into cheers. It was late — late enough for overtime in that all-or-nothing soccer match everyone in Rome had been anticipating for weeks. Italy lived, breathed, and slept calcio, and she’d been looking forward to the festive atmosphere that came with every championship game. But right now…
Pain shot through her neck, and her shoulders hunched. The clouds shifted overhead, and the moon bathed the street in dim light — a scene she would have loved to photograph under different circumstances. But her fingers curled, and her nails ached.
No, no, no. This could not be happening. Not again.
“All good, all good,” she lied to herself, because positive thinking always helped…
…with some exceptions, like when your body was trying to change into a wild beast.
She hurried down the street, past the gorgeous villa with the crenelated tower she loved. But tonight, she barely turned her head to wonder who lived there as she usually did. She just sped toward the entrance to the Villa Pamphili park. Whatever happened, she had to get out of sight before it happened again.
Beeeeep! A car blared as she staggered across the street, and the driver yelled something about too much wine.
But she wasn’t drunk, dammit, and she wasn’t on drugs. She just couldn’t coordinate her legs, not when her knees kept buckling.
Clouds covered the moon again, and she steadied out enough to jog into the shadows of the park. A place no sane woman would venture alone at night, but she had no choice.
Hurry, she ordered herself, running for the crest of the hill.
An hour earlier, she’d been in her tiny rooftop apartment off a backstreet in Rome’s quirky Trastevere neighborhood. But the restless feeling that had hounded her since sunset had grown worse, and she’d headed outside. At first, she’d wandered aimlessly, but instinct drove her up the nearest of Rome’s seven hills. An instinct to get someplace high up, private, and spacious. Why?
Tears streamed down her cheeks, because she knew why. The horrifying change that had wracked her body three times during the previous full moon was happening again. She’d only been in Rome for a few weeks at that point, and the weird, headachy feeling that had nagged her that day intensified until she ended up on her hands and knees, moaning from the pain in her shoulders and that stranger’s voice in her head.
Let me out.
The first time, she’d hunched, jammed her hands over her ears, and rocked away the intense pain in her joints. The second time, she’d fallen to all fours, feeling as if her body were being ripped apart. The third time—
She gulped, pushing the memories away. For a while, she’d tried convincing herself that something had been slipped into her food or drink. But now that it was happening again…
“All good, all good,” she mumbled, her shoulder-length brown hair bouncing as she rushed along.
A grand arch stood at the crest of the hill ahead — the Arch of the Four Winds, as she’d learned in her first days of exploring her new neighborhood.
East wind tonight, that inner voice murmured. Perfect for a quick flight to the coast and back.
She clenched her teeth. Throughout her life, she’d been abnormally tuned in to wind and weather, and though she was new to Italy, the landscape seemed as familiar as a childhood memory. Which shouldn’t have been possible. Her mother had left the continent before Lena was born, and Lena herself had only visited once.
Then came the fateful day when corporate cutbacks had terminated her job, leading to her snap decision to move to Rome, just because she could. Not long after that, the episodes began. The something trying to break out from inside.
Glancing at her hands, she cursed. Her nails were three inches long, her skin coarse, her arms going all leathery. If anyone saw her like that…
She ran under
the arch and paused. City sounds faded into the distance, and the stillness of night was eerie. A bat flitted by, and bushes rustled in the breeze. Footpaths radiated in all directions, and she rushed down one that led to a patch of woods. Maybe there, she could hide from the moonlight that seemed to be spurring on the change.
Branches whipped her legs as she raced into the trees, looking for the thickest part of the woods. But thick was a relative term in Rome’s urban parks, and she nearly shot out the other side a few steps later.
“Dammit.”
She backed up and huddled at the base of a towering umbrella pine. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the change.
Let me out, the voice in her mind insisted. It will be okay, I promise.
Yeah, right.
When a cloud slid over the moon, the pulling sensation in her shoulders eased, and she took a few deep breaths. She could handle this…somehow. She could handle anything, just like her single mom had taught her.
Then again, her mother had never mentioned anything like this.
A low, rumbly growl slipped past her lips, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Oh God. If she turned into a dragon — all the way this time — would she be able to change back? Or would she go on a wild rampage, pillaging and torching the countryside?
The inner voice huffed. Only a little flight to the coast and back. I promise I’ll be good.
The clouds parted, revealing the moon, and Lena fell to all fours, moaning. It felt as if every form of medieval torture had befallen her at the same time. Nails pulled with pliers, ears snipped, limbs tied to four horses tugging in four different directions.
Stop exaggerating, the inner voice grumbled. It won’t hurt if you let me take over.
Hell no. She wasn’t letting anything take over. And she certainly didn’t want a new body, not when she’d finally come to accept hers with all its faults and imperfections. That had taken nearly thirty years of living to achieve, dammit.
It will be okay. She gritted her teeth.
It will. Stop fighting me and you shall see.
But Lena didn’t want to see. She wanted to curl up and wake from this nightmare so unlike the pleasant dreams she’d had for years. In them, she’d turned into a dragon and flown fearlessly over beautiful Tuscan landscapes.
Instead, she found herself clawing at a scrubby patch of grass, fighting for control. Her teeth ached. Her mouth grew hot — almost fiery — and she couldn’t hold back a moan. Then another, and another, until the moon slid behind a cloud, and the pain eased.
She panted into the ground. Footsteps scuffed over a path not too far away, and she froze, focusing on their source. A dog. And, yikes. That was a hell of a big dog. Why wasn’t it leashed?
Then she gulped. Because that was a wolf, not a dog.
She remained in a crouch, praying it would move on. But the wolf settled on its haunches, raised its muzzle, and began to howl — a long, lonely howl that rose and fell. As clear as a bell, yet hushed, as if the beast were as intent on secrecy as she. It sang one mournful note after another in a ballad of solitude and sorrow. Then it broke off abruptly and snapped its head around.
Lena meant to duck, but she ended up falling as another spasm shook her body. The back of her shirt split with an awful ripping sound.
Let me out. Embrace who you are, the voice said.
Her vision went blurry, but her sense of smell sharpened, picking up a dozen intense new scents. Like the dry, herbal aroma of the earth under her fingernails. The pungent odor of rotting leaves. And those were just the freshest scents. She picked up on others, too, like the meandering trail left by an oversexed dog and the line of stale sweat that marked where a jogger had passed hours earlier.
Woof.
She froze. As soft as that bark was — more of a quiet chuff, really — the animal that had produced it was only a few steps away. Her vision was still out of focus, but the bushes stirred, and the musky odor of a canine drew near.
Oh God. The wolf. Any minute now, its teeth would tear into her.
But she couldn’t run, and she couldn’t hide. All she could do was hunch and scratch at the earth.
“Shoo,” she mumbled. “Go away.” Cramps racked her muscles, and her elbows bent at an unnatural angle.
Snuffling sounded by her ear, and the wolf’s warm breath heated her cheek.
Woof, the wolf said in a canine whisper.
Lena’s muddled mind raced with mixed messages. Stop. Help. Leave me alone.
She couldn’t see the clouds move, but she could sense them parting again, and she moaned miserably.
“No…”
Her fingers were disappearing. Her arms too. A heavy blanket spread over her shoulders. Then more fabric ripped, and when she glanced wildly around, she caught blurry glimpses of her surroundings. The trees forming a canopy above… A wolf tilting its head quizzically… Wings…
Wait. Wings?
Her cheek and nose burned, and she felt a pull. The wolf shuffled back. But a moment later, the air shimmered, and the wolf stood on its hind feet.
Her pulse hammered away. Oh shit. It was leaping at her. Any moment now, it would sink its teeth into her flesh.
But it didn’t leap. It moved in slow motion, morphing until it was a man and not a beast. A tall, muscular man with dark black hair the same color as the wolf’s. He crouched, studying her, then spoke in a low, soft baritone.
“Stai bene?”
No, she wasn’t bene. Not in the least.
Please make this stop. Please help me, she wanted to cry.
But all she said was, “Go away.” Because, hell. There she was, alone in a park at night, with her clothes half shredded. Who knew what that man-beast might do?
Her words must have emerged in a slur, because the man paused then whispered in Italian-accented English.
“Are you all right?” Then he cursed himself and added in Italian, “Of course, she’s not all right.” Then he switched back to English. “Let me help. I promise it will be all right.”
She wanted to believe him, but why should she? Especially with her body on fire, her limbs breaking.
“Breathe. Don’t fight it. It is your first time, no?” the stranger murmured.
She opened her mouth, but all she could produce was a cough. Her throat burned, and tiny sparks lit the night.
The stranger leaned away with a curse. Drago.
No, she wanted to protest. Not a dragon. I’m just me.
But, hell. Her arms did look a hell of a lot like wings, and her nose stretched into her line of sight, taking the shape of a snout.
“No,” she moaned as pain sliced through her nerves.
“It’s all right. Just breathe.”
She wanted to scoff. Breathing wouldn’t help, especially with the risk of spurting fire. But between the man’s authoritative voice and gentle touch, she found her panicked breaths slowing down.
“Sì. Like that,” he murmured, touching her back. “Deep breaths.”
She frowned. What made him such an expert? And who the hell gave him permission to touch?
But his touch was comforting somehow. Her pounding heart slowed, and that imaginary blanket slipped away, letting the wings give way to arms again.
Keep talking. Keep touching, she wanted to beg him. Whatever he was doing, it was working.
Her vision slowly cleared, and she found herself crouched, with scraps of fabric hanging from her sides. Then she shivered and looked up into the darkest, deepest eyes she’d ever seen. Honest, intense eyes that locked on hers and promised — no, swore — everything would be okay.
“Good,” he murmured. “You see? It is better already. Try to—”
A twig snapped, and he whipped his head left. Lena did too.
“Wolf,” she gasped when she spotted a second wolf. It was lighter colored and more menacing. Cruel, almost, unlike the first.
The man — her savior? Would-be attacker? — stretched to his full height, towering above her to shoo it away.
The wolf barked once, and the man scowled in response.
“No. Go,” he ordered in a tone much harsher than he’d used with her.
Lena had no idea what was going on. All she knew was that the cloud covering the moon was a big one. Big enough to give her a break, and maybe even to steal away from those two beasts.
“I said, go. Last warning,” the man yelled at the wolf.
The beast stuck its tail between its legs and backed a step away, but it didn’t leave. It watched Lena with greedy eyes, licking its lips.
The man muttered to himself in Italian — something about doing things the easy way and the hard way, from what Lena caught. Then he stalked forward, leaving the shelter of the trees.
And, whoa. His ass was bare. In fact, his whole body was bare. And, well — what a sight. The man was a living statue of carefully carved muscle, like a masterpiece from the Galleria Borghese brought to life. Her body heated, and instinct urged her to follow him and touch one of those deeply sculpted lines.
Then she caught herself. Yikes. Did turning into a dragon come with unfettered desires? She ought to be getting the hell out of there, not ogling a man’s rear, no matter how perfect it might be.
Slowly, she backed through the woods while the man chased the wolf away.
Wait… something in her called. We need him, and he needs us.
Still, she forced herself to move faster. This was her chance to escape two wolves — and maybe even the beast raging inside her body. If she got home and hid from the moon, maybe she could keep it at bay.
Her first few steps were shaky, but the next few were faster, and soon, she found herself sprinting out of the park, clutching her torn clothes to her sides. Whatever happened, she would manage…somehow. She always did.
And as for the wolfman who’d helped her — well, he could obviously fend for himself.