Lair of the Lion

of menace, of command. "You have all but accused me of cowardice." A soft, threatening growl rumbled in his throat, setting her heart pounding and her pulse racing frantically.
    She stiffened in outrage but refused to turn and face him. Nor would she deny his charge.
    How dare he use his position as the don to control her behavior? She was seething with anger, wanting to throw the dishes at him. "I don't think I can take the credit for your feelings signore. They're all yours and have nothing to do with me."
    He had hurt her with his twisted anger. He could hear it in her voice. Her face was averted, but he knew it would be plain to see in her transparent expression. Nicolai raked a hand through his hair again. He wanted to gather her into his arms and hold her to him.
    Offer protection, offer safety. "Isabella, did you not hear me? Or perhaps you didn't understand me. Not one of my ancestors ever had the strength of the beast—the calling—so early as I. There was no danger as long as I kept to myself, as long as I stayed in control.
    But I feel for you. Everything a man feels—more, even. The emotions are strong, and they rip my control to shreds."
    The image of his words conjured up the memory of the tattered remains of Captain Bartolmei's coat. "Jealousy, Nicolai? Have you become jealous?" She asked it very quietly, careful to keep her back to him.
    "Dio! Yes, I'm jealous. I hear your laughter, see the way men's eyes follow your every movement. I'm even jealous of shadows when they touch your body. I have lived alone since my twelfth summer, Isabella. At least apart. I accepted my life and my duties to my people. I tried to keep you from coming." He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "I knew. The moment I heard your name. I knew what you would do to me, and you have. You found your way inside me, and there's no getting you out."
    She did turn then, her eyes bright with tears. "Then you have to come to terms with what we are together. You have to believe in us. Not in yourself. In us."
    He took a step toward her, then stopped abruptly, his hands closing into tight fists as he heard the soft footsteps of an approaching servant. "I don't want to hurt you." His voice was low, a caress so powerful her stomach clenched in reaction.
    "Then believe in us, or let me go." She made it simple for him.
    "Don DeMarco, the runners have arrived. They seek an audience with you immediately,"
    Betto informed him.
    Isabella knew by the older man's downcast eyes that he was unable to see Nicolai in his true form. She dropped a low curtsey toward the don. "Grazie for having tea with me, signore. It was…" Her lashes swept down demurely. "Interesting."

    Nicolai shook his head and turned away from her, unable or unwilling to deal with her ire. "I will see you later, Isabella." It was a warning, nothing less. He stalked past her, hesitated, then reached out to shackle her wrist, drawing her close against his body. He bent his dark head toward hers, his mouth against her ear. "And I'll never let you go, Isabella.
    Never." Abruptly he released her and was gone.
    Childishly she wanted to stomp her foot in sheer frustration. Instead she took a deep breath and let it out, rubbing at the fingerprints on her wrist as she did so. "How are you feeling, Betto?"
    "Much better, signorina." He looked puzzled. "I still don't know what came over me. It was like being caught in a dream. I heard myself saying those terrible things to the poor boy, and I felt rage in my heart, but it wasn't real to me. I couldn't stop myself or control it until everyone began to say such nice things about me. In truth, it terrified me that I had no control."
    "Has such a thing happened before or since?" Isabella laid a hand comfortingly upon Betto's arm.
    "When I was a young man, I saw it happen to one of the woodsmen. He nearly killed mio padre. They were laughing one minute and at each other the next. I'd never heard either of them say such foul things." He scratched his head. "Funny, I haven't thought of that for a long time. It was right after Nicolai's madre came to the palazzo."
    "But nothing more has happened to you?"
    He shook his head and crossed himself, looking very reminiscent of his spouse.
    Sarina hurried in, appearing a bit harried. "I'm sorry I left the serving to Brigita. Did she break anything or annoy Nicolai?" She gasped with dismay when she saw the food untouched on the table.
    Betto patted her shoulder gently