Lair of the Lion

hand along his shadowed jaw, a small caress, closing his eyes for a moment and savoring the feel and scent of her.
    Isabella was silent for a moment, turning his words over in her mind. Nicolai was serious. He feared for her life. Feared that in some way he might be responsible for harming her. "What history of turning on loved ones, Don DeMarco?" Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she tasted fear in her mouth.
    The words fell into a vacuum of silence. She stood very close to him, feeling the heat of his body. His thumb stroked a caress over the pulse beating so frantically in her wrist. He moved, his posture protective, towering over her, sheltering her against the echo of danger vibrating in the air. The night seemed to wrap them up, enveloping them in a shroud of darkness.
    "Hasn't anyone yet regaled you with tales of how I received the scars on my face? I thought they would all leap at the chance to tell you." A strange rumble was emanating from his throat, somewhere between a purr and a growl.
    Isabella tilted her head to look up at him. In the flickering light from the burning tapers, she could see shadows across the left side of his face, hiding the jagged lines etched deeply into his skin. She reached up and gently laid her hand over the scars, her palm comforting.
    "I don't think you realize how loyal your people are to you. No one has repeated gossip, signore, nor do I think they would do so. If you wish to tell me how this happened, please do, but don't feel it's necessary."
    His hand covered hers, pressing her palm more tightly to him. His long lashes, the only feminine thing about him, veiled the sorrow in his burning eyes. "Why do you have to be so beautiful? So good?" There was a wealth of despair in his voice.
    She felt the pain in his heart as if it were her own, and she ached to hold him, to ease the heavy burdens she had no hope of understanding. Without conscious thought, she leaned her body into his, her soft, full breasts pressing against his chest.
    He groaned—she heard it quite clearly—his body tightening.
    Nicolai experienced a heavy, aching need that crawled through his bloodstream and invaded every cell, every muscle. His arms slipped around Isabella and hauled her closer still, until there was only the thin barrier of their clothing separating them. Still, it wasn't close enough. His fingers tangled in her long hair, dragging her head back so he could take possession of her lush, inviting mouth. Enormously strong, he crushed her to him, trying to crawl inside the haven of her indomitable spirit. Wanting to lose himself in the perfection of her soft body.
    Fire raced through him to her and back again, burning so hot, so fast, the flames were out of control. His mouth was hot with hunger, with need, with a raging desire almost beyond his comprehension. It took him so fast, so ferociously, he was unprepared for the primal lust blossoming deep within him, bursting into a conflagration as the taste and scent of her swamped his senses.
    Isabella recognized the wildness rising in him, the terrible hunger and need, as his kiss deepened in masculine domination, taking rather than coaxing her untutored mouth to respond. He swept her away with him into a world of pure sensuality. She went with him willingly, wanting to feel his body hard and hot against hers. Wanting the enormous strength of his arms wrapped tightly around her. She merged with him, heat to heat, her mouth moving against his. She could feel the heavy thickness of him pressed against her, and it excited rather than alarmed her. She reveled as his fist tightened in her hair.
    Unexpectedly, his ring scratched her neck, a sharp sting that drew her out of the silken web of erotic passion. Isabella gave a soft cry and lifted her head, staring up into his blazing eyes. She touched her neck, and her fingers came away smeared with a thin ribbon of red.
    Nicolai snarled and leapt away from her, a single bound that took him deep within the shadows. His gaze was wild, turbulent, his eyes gleaming eerily like those of a beast. With his wild hair flowing around him, and his impressive size, he gave the appearance of the lions that roamed his lands.
    "This is perilous, Isabella." His voice was gruff. A growl rumbled deep within his throat, making him sound untamed, dangerous. "You should not be here."
    "There is no need to worry, signore." Isabella sounded amused at his trepidation. "I was not the most ladylike in my youth, and mio