by Anna Lowe
Lena flexed her fingers, frowning. “How?”
Sergio stepped closer. “By choosing when and where you want to shift. By giving your beast permission or holding it back.” Slowly, gently, he covered her trembling hands. “By understanding what’s inside you and what it needs.”
She didn’t shrink from his touch, though her hands continued to tremble. “What do I have inside?”
A dragon, he nearly said. But that seemed a bit blunt, so he cast around for a more helpful answer. Sooner or later, she would fully shift, and it could be a disaster — for her and for shifters everywhere. The Guardians could have her killed, lest she betray all shifters. The risk was that great.
His inner wolf growled. So, we teach her. Protect her. Stay close by her side.
Easier said than done. If Vicente sensed any extraordinary interest in Lena…
Sergio thrust the thought away. “What’s inside you is nothing to fear. It’s simply another side of your soul, just in a different body.”
Lena didn’t look convinced, so he went on.
“It’s like with dogs or horses. The key is to make sure you’re the boss, no matter how big they are.”
Or how small, his wolf grumbled, picturing the chihuahua.
“You have to take charge,” he continued. “Your human side has to call the shots, the way you would with an animal. Give the beast what it needs while staying in control.”
She looked dubious. “What about the moon? How can I control that?”
“The moon can be an influence, but no more than it influences human behavior. Take my wolf, for example. It’s like a dog.”
Nothing like a dog, the beast grumbled.
He went on, ignoring it. “I tell it when it gets to run freely and where. I keep it under control.”
Well, most of the time, he did. But on one life-changing night, his inner beast had taken over, and he’d killed a man. His own uncle, the mafia boss.
It had to be done, his wolf growled.
Sergio frowned. That was true, but the consequences could have been disastrous. He’d only done it to protect his mother, but when his uncle lay before him, dead, the out-of-nowhere temptation to seize power and wealth for himself had horrified him. Somehow, he’d found the strength to resist and left Italy to join the Foreign Legion. All that to avoid what was sure to follow — the clan’s insistence that Sergio take over as new boss of the family business, as tradition dictated.
Miraculously, no strong leader had emerged, and ensuing infighting had weakened the clan so much, the organization fell apart completely.
He frowned, because the power vacuum was slowly being filled by the likes of Vicente. A smarter, subtler kind of mob boss, but just as deadly. Sergio was sure of it, but until he had proof…
He blinked, pulling his thoughts back to Lena’s predicament.
“I’ve tried controlling it,” she whispered. “But it just happens.”
He leaned closer — but, whoops. He’d already been fairly near, so closer meant practically nestling up beside her. But the contact was nice. Warm, in a comforting way, despite the heat of the day and the attic apartment. A feeling of someone to face the world with, come what may.
Lena stopped trembling. Was she experiencing the same thing?
Gently, he turned her hands, cupping them in his. “If your animal side calls when you can’t shift, picture your human body staying the way it is. Start with your fingers.”
Lena wiggled them skeptically, but he went on.
“Picture how the fingers connect to your wrists, wrists to forearms, elbows, and so on. Think of standing tall on two feet. And whatever you do, don’t think of the joy of wagging your tail.”
Lena’s eyebrows jumped up. “The joy?”
His wolf nodded vigorously. What he wouldn’t give to share the freedom of shifting with her! To head out into the wild and run on four feet. To jump, play, and howl.
Sergio smiled. “Yes, the joy. But sometimes, you have to wait. On the other hand, the beast will rebel if you force it to wait too long. So it’s good to plan ahead. For your first few shifts, I mean. You need space until you learn to control your second side. The Villa Pamphili park was a good idea, but…”
She lifted her gaze to the densely packed rooftops outside. “Not big enough. There’s no place in Rome big enough.”
No place in the world big enough, her deflated tone said, and it gutted him. Lena deserved to know the joy of shifting, not to fear it. To revel in her animal body as much as she could enjoy her human body.
A dirty corner of his mind ran with the enjoy her human body part, conjuring up images of the two of them in bed. Within seconds, his blood heated, and his wolf started pacing around.
Clearing his throat sharply, he stepped away. But at the same time, his wolf made him whisper, “I can take you sometime.”
So much for showing the beast who was boss.
Her eyes met his, so wide and full of hope, his hardened warrior soul melted. “You could? Where?”
He gestured to the southeast. “There are a few places not far outside the city.”
He pictured his favorite — the miles-long, grassy expanse beyond the Appian Way, delineated by a series of arched structures. To the ancient Romans, the aqueducts had simply been the means to pipe water into their metropolis. Or did the graceful lines of those arches seem just as much of an artwork back then as they did now? Either way, he loved the Parco degli Acquedotti, only a few miles past the Baths of Caracalla on the outskirts of the city. A place to run wild and be free.
“That would be nice,” Lena said softly enough to make him wonder whether the vision had wandered from his mind to hers.
Mates can do that, you know, his wolf pointed out. Share thoughts without speaking.
Of course, Sergio knew. But he was trying desperately not to think about that. There were too many other complications right now.
Still, he couldn’t help relishing the perfect curve of Lena’s body beside his. The sense of peace filling his soul like a tank of fuel — enough to help him endure the harsh realities of the shifter world for another day.
“A place like that?” she whispered, pointing to one of the photos on the wall.
It was a shot of the waterfall in Tivoli, not far from Rome.
He nodded. “That might work, too.”
In silence, he studied the details. The photo had captured the blur of rushing water surrounded by lush greenery turned gold by beams of sunlight breaking out from behind clouds. A one-in-a-million shot, except the apartment walls were covered with dozens of others, every one of them a masterpiece.
“Did you take all these?”
She nodded quietly.
Sergio turned to the next one — a shot of the Pantheon at night. A happy couple swept through the light of an antique lamppost, while a homeless person huddled in the shadows. Beside that was a shot of a wall covered with a political poster from one of those right-wing groups blaming immigrants for ruining Italy. Meanwhile, in the foreground, a young African man helped an older Italian woman lift her grocery cart onto a curb.
Contrasts. Lots of contrasts. And very clear messages communicated without a word.
“These are good. Really good. Why waste your time with Amber?”
Lena made a face. “The same reason I do weddings and portraits. It pays the bills.” She sighed quietly. “I came to Rome to work for a nonprofit called Vicino al Vicino — Neighbor to Neighbor.” Her eyes searched his in hope.
“I’m not familiar with them,” he said, letting her down gently.
She nodded sadly. “That was the problem. They did great work, from helping immigrants integrate to community skill swaps and childcare co-ops. Unfortunately, given the current political climate…”
Sergio grimaced. Fringe groups that pushed conservative, xenophobic agendas were on the rise — not just in Italy, but around the world.
“Anyway, they lost their funding,” Lena went on. “And I was out of a job. It was
only part time, but I was hoping it would lead to other work. Meaningful work. And who knows? It still could.”
Usually, Sergio rolled his eyes at such blind hope. A lifetime of hard knocks — plus a decade in the military — had left him too jaded to believe. But with Lena… Somehow, his heart swelled, making him hope too.
“I’ve had to take on more freelance work, but that’s okay. It gives me time to take pictures like these. To find publications interested in publishing them. People and organizations who want to confront society with its own injustices.”
He smiled. A true crusader at heart, much like Gemma in London.
Lena’s lips curled up. “I learned that through a neighbor — my mentor, you might say. He photographed the local fire department — shirtless — for a calendar. They got a record number of donations that year. More importantly, people really seemed to stop, think, and appreciate what they did for the community. That’s what I want to do.”
Sergio laughed. “Shirtless calendars?”
She thumped his shoulder. “Not what I meant.”
For a moment, they stood grinning at each other. Finally, Lena’s chest lifted and fell in a soft sigh, and she bit her lip. Then she waved around again.
“Anyway, all that takes time. What I earn through commercial photography gives me that.”
Together, they looked over her masterpieces in silence.
“You have a good eye,” he finally murmured.
“It’s all in composition,” Lena said. “See the stray dog, waiting for scraps outside the restaurant?”
Sergio followed her finger. More contrasts. Hunger and longing juxtaposed with bulging cheeks and full wineglasses.
She went on to another image, speaking in a voice so full of passion, he could have listened for hours. “There’s a symmetry to this one, but it’s broken by the reflection in the puddle…”
Some shots were of people, others of places. A few, like the waterfall shot, simply celebrated the beauty of nature, but most had some kind of social message.
Apparently, there was a lot more to the talented Signorina Castamolino than the ability to endure budding starlets. There was passion in her work. Anger and joy, despair and hope, all wrapped up together.
“…so the natural light points out what we don’t want to see,” she finished, going back to the Pantheon shot.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, and he sensed Lena reliving that scene. Then she turned to him, and their eyes met. Big, luminous eyes tinged with the telltale glow of a shifter. He ought to warn her about that, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention it just now. Not when he could soak in that beautiful sight. Her scent wrapped around him like a zephyr of clean, fresh air, and her fingers were snug around his.
His eyes dropped to her quivering lips. To her chest, rising and falling in ever deeper breaths, like his. To the flush in her cheeks that said, Kiss me.
He wanted that more than anything, and suddenly, any reason not to vanished from his mind. They were mates. Of course he should kiss her.
Heat flooded his body as he bent closer, his heart skipping in anticipation.
All his life, he’d looked down on mushy stuff like love, joy, and happiness. He was a soldier after all. But, now… Wow. Now, he knew.
Love, his wolf crooned.
Lena’s lips twitched, only a whisper away from his.
But then the landlady’s shrill voice carried from four flights below. “Signorina Castamolino!”
They skittered apart.
“Signorina Castamolino,” the widow grumbled. “Sono più di cinque minuti.”
Sergio sighed. More than five minutes had passed, yet it felt like mere seconds. Nowhere near enough time with his mate.
Lena blushed, sliding her hands slowly out of his in a gesture that was innocent and sensual at the same time.
“I guess you’d better go.”
That rodent of a dog yapped, accentuating its master’s message, and the widow banged her cane on the iron handrail. The sounds echoed up the empty stairwell, making Sergio wince.
“I guess so.” He stepped toward the door, then turned back. “I meant what I said. Stay away from Vicente. He’s a wolf shifter, you know.”
For a moment, she paled, but then that tough New York exterior set in. “Was he the one in the park?”
Sergio shook his head. Hell no. That had been a low-ranking nobody, and he’d taught the fool a lesson after Lena had crept away.
“You’d know if it was Vicente,” he muttered instead.
She let out a slow breath. “You’re a wolf too, and you work for Vicente. Doesn’t that mean I should stay away from you?”
Sergio suppressed a growl. “I don’t work for that scumbag. And I’m nothing like him.”
He longed to tell her everything — really everything, from his misery of a childhood to the day his uncle had tried to recruit him into the family “business.” He itched to tell Lena about that fateful confrontation with his uncle, the new life he’d found in the Foreign Legion, and the unshakable urge to come home to Rome. But there was no time left for that. Not with the landlady about to alert the carabinieri and accuse him of breaking in.
He stepped halfway through the doorway, hoping that would calm the widow down. “Shifters are like people. Some are sfachimi — two-faced bastards. Others, you can trust.”
Her innocent, doe eyes said, I trust you, and it gutted him. What if he couldn’t protect her from the likes of Vicente?
He pushed the thought away and got back on track. “I would never work for someone like Vicente.”
“So, who do you work for?”
“The Guardians,” he whispered, surprised at the reverent hush in his own voice.
“Who?”
He waved his hand. “Think of it as… What was that organization? Vicino al Vicino?”
A smile formed on her lips, and she nodded. “Neighbor to Neighbor.”
“Like that, but on another level.”
A whole different level, and with shifters, some of whom he didn’t trust and others who didn’t trust him. But he didn’t have time to explain all that.
“My job is to keep an eye on what Vicente is up to. But, you… Trust me — you must avoid Vicente at all costs.”
Her face clouded at the name, but gradually, a tiny smile dawned over her lips. A hopeful, almost flirty one.
“I don’t have to avoid you, do I?”
He wanted to grin and flirt back, but did he dare? There was so much at stake — above all, Lena’s safety. Then again, he had promised to help her with shifting.
“Saturday,” he said before he overthought things too much. “Would that work? To find a place for you to shift, I mean.”
To spend time with you, too, he wanted to add.
Lena’s eyes brightened, and the slump went out of her shoulders. “Saturday would be great.”
And damn, did his wolf take off with that. First, he’d take her to his favorite park and help her shift. Afterward, they could go back to his place and…
He reined in those runaway thoughts and forced himself to head down the steps.
“Saturday, then. Arrivederci. And, Lena…” He paused at a turn in the stairs, gazing up at his mate. “Be careful. Stay safe.”
Chapter Five
“A little left…a tiny bit more to the right…” Lena squinted through her lens.
“Like this?” Amber plumped the girls and leaned over, blocking the view of Piazza Navona in the background.
Lena hid her grimace — something she’d done a lot of during the past five days. Five days of photo shoots all over Rome. The Pantheon, Roman Forum, Trevi Fountain… If it was a major city landmark, Amber wanted her picture taken there, and the girls always featured prominently.
All in all, it was a far cry from the kind of work Lena burned to do. From time to time, she’d focus the camera on a poignant scene behind Amber — like the interracial couple snapping a selfie, looking head-over-heels in love. A waiter dotin
g on an old woman wrapped in a warm winter coat. But for every picture she’d managed to sneak in, she’d missed countless others, and she yearned to break away from Amber and capture those meaningful little stories on film.
Of course, it could have been worse. Vicente had only come to one session, thank goodness. On the other hand, he was probably on the phone somewhere, putting hundreds of people out of work — or ordering a mafia hit. Worse, ordering some kind of canine attack.
He’s a wolf shifter, you know, Sergio had said.
A little shiver went down her spine. It was all too easy to picture Vicente as a rabid monster. But Sergio was a wolf shifter too, and he was totally different. That night in the park, the brush of his soft fur had been so comforting, and his eyes had given off a warm, caring glow. As man or beast, all she saw in him was honor. Loyalty. Devotion.
So, which was it? Were shifters terrifying beasts or were they the world’s fiercest, most loyal companions?
More importantly, which type was she?
What’s inside you is simply another side of you, just in a different body, Sergio had said.
She bit her lip. A really different body. One that had pushed her into a whole new world she’d never been aware of.
She glanced around. How many of the people on Rome’s streets were shifters? Could that nimble waiter turn into a coyote, maybe? And what about the old man peering out a window high above the square? Could he turn into an owl? A hawk, perhaps?
The idea of shifters was terrifying, yet not at all surprising, somehow. As if deep inside, she’d sensed shifters around her all along.
“Too bad Vicente isn’t here,” Amber sighed theatrically. “But that’s okay. He and I know how to make up for lost time.” Her eyes took on a lusty glow.
Lena grimaced, hoping she was wrong about Vicente. But that spooky sixth sense of hers had never been wrong.
Luckily, it was her last day of working with Amber. Then she could go back to photographing nice, normal couples and find shots that really mattered on the side. No more dealing with Amber’s self-centered exuberance or Vicente’s pure, seething evil. But did that mean no more Sergio, too?
Unlike Vicente, Sergio had come to every session, driving her crazy in the best sense of the word. Well, not so good, because she could barely concentrate, what with all the fantasies he inspired. Raging fantasies that spilled over from the privacy of nighttime to the bright light of day. She pictured him in bed, making her feel good. Against the wall, making her feel dirty in the best possible way. Under the moonlight, moving inside her, making her cry in ecstasy.
