Lair of the Lion

laughing as they raced along, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen on the branches overhead. Nicolai stopped the carriage atop a slope, his arm pulling her close to him. Below them was a small pond, already frozen so that the ice gleamed.
    "It's truly beautiful," Isabella said, looking up at him. "Grazie, Nicolai, for sharing this with me."
    His hand bunched in her hair. "Whom else would I share it with?" He looked away from her, out over the sparkling ice. His features were still and harsh. "No other would dare to come with me."
    "Why?" Isabella pressed one gloved hand to his scars and stroked his skin to warm him.
    "Why are they all so silly? You are so good to them. Why do they fear you, Nicolai?"
    "They have great reason to fear me, just as we all feared mio padre." He turned his head to look down at her, his amber eyes brooding. "If you had any sense, you would fear me, too."

    She gave him a soft, trusting smile. Her furred fingertips traced his frown. "Do you want me to fear you, Nicolai? If you want such a thing, you must give me a reason."
    He stared into the guileless innocence of her dark eyes for a long moment. "Isabella."
    Her name was a soft whisper in the night. Gentle. Tender. He bent to find her mouth with his, taking possession, his tongue probing, insistent.
    Beneath the thick furs Nicolai slipped his hand inside her robe to find her breasts. "I dreamed of taking you out here in the snow, in the moonlight." He kissed the corner of her mouth, her chin. "If I asked you, Isabella, would you give me your body?" His mouth wandered lower, down the line of her throat, nudging her robe aside so that it gaped open for him. His hands fit her rib cage, his thumbs resting on her taut nipples.
    "Why, Nicolai?" There was something sad, something desperate, driving him. "What are you afraid of? Tell me."
    He rested his head against her bare breasts. "I hurt day and night. I can think of nothing but you. Nothing else, cara. But I don't know if relieving the ache in my body is going to do much for saving my soul." He slipped his arms around her and clung tightly, as if she were his safe anchor. "I didn't want to love you, Isabella. There is more danger in that than you can possibly imagine." He closed his eyes. "I want to give you the world, but in truth, I am taking your life."
    She held him to her, stroking his hair. "I can't help you, Nicolai, if you don't tell me what's wrong." She kissed the top of his head and held him tighter. "Out here, where we're alone and the world is made of ice and gems, can't you tell me? Don't you know me well enough yet to know I fight for the ones who belong to me? I risked everything to save Lucca. Why would I do less for you?"
    "You would run screaming from this place, from me, if you knew the truth." There was bitterness in his voice, in his heart. "The lions wouldn't allow it, and I would have to hold you prisoner. In the end I would destroy you as mio padre destroyed mia madre." He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. "As he nearly did me."
    She saw torment in his amber gaze. Anger. Fear. Determination. Emotions swirled up from his soul to burn in his eyes like a flame.
    The chill Isabella felt had nothing to do with the cold. She tugged at his hair. "Tell me, then, Nicolai, and we will see if I am a frightened bambina to run screaming from the man to whom I am bound."
    His hands caught her slender shoulders, fingers digging into her flesh. He gave her a little shake, as if the intensity of his feelings was more than he could bear. As he did so, she felt the sharp stab of needles puncturing her shoulders. Her breath caught in her throat, but she choked back the soft cry of distress before it could escape. She looked down at her left shoulder, at his hand.

    Clearly she saw a huge lion's paw, retractable claws. The claws were curved and thick and sharp, the tips digging into her skin. It was no illusion but a reality she couldn't ignore.
    A part of her mind was so shocked, so horrified and frightened, all it could do was scream.
    Silently. Locked in her head, deep in her mind where only Isabella lived, she screamed silently. And she wept. For herself, for Nicolai DeMarco. With pity for them both.
    Outwardly she was a Vernaducci, and, male or female, a Vernaducci did not give in to hysteria. She struggled for control and sat very still.
    Nicolai had not uttered a falsehood. There was danger here, mortal danger. It vibrated in the air around them. The horses began to grow