Lair of the Lion

afraid to look at her, afraid she would see tears swimming in his eyes. How could he ever trust himself with her again? He knew he would want her again and again, and each time he took her would become an experience in painful self-control. Sooner or later he would lose the battle, and it would be Isabella who paid the price.
    "You know you didn't." She nibbled her way up his chin to the corner of his mouth. "Is it always like that?" His hair was brushing her sensitive skin, and deep inside, her muscles reacted by contracting again, sending another burst of pleasure rushing through her. Relief washed over her. She was certain they could find a way to be stronger than the curse. Of course, it was ingrained in Nicolai to believe in the curse, to believe he would one day kill the woman he loved, and she was afraid he was defeated before they even tried.
    "You saw it, didn't you?" His hand moved over her hip and came back with a small smear of blood on it. "You saw me as the lion."
    "No, Nicolai, I didn't see it. I saw you, only you." She held him close to her, their hearts beating frantically together. Needing comfort, he laid his head on her breasts while her fingers twisted in his hair.
    "But you felt the lion, Isabella," he said sadly. "I know you did. I know you heard him."
    Her nipple was too much of a temptation, and he took it into his mouth, his tongue teasing and stroking. Again he was rewarded when her body shuddered with pleasure, squeezing and tightening around him. He kissed her breast and lay quietly, letting her peace, her tranquility, seep into his mind so he could think clearly.
    "None of that matters, only what we are together," she answered softly.
    Nicolai lifted his head and stared down into her face. "I'm not going to marry you." His eyes gleamed at her, and his hair fell across her sensitized breasts, teasing her nipples to hard peaks.
    She stiffened beneath him. He lay over her naked body, his naked body blanketing hers, entwined with hers, his arms holding her. They had just lain together in the way of husband and wife, yet he chose that moment to announce he had once again changed his mind.
    Isabella tried not to think it was due to her inexperience, due to the fact that she had given up her innocence without marriage.
    "Please get off me," she said politely when she wanted to slap his handsome face. That she could still find him handsome frayed her temper even more.
    "I'm sorry. Am I too heavy?" He shifted his weight immediately, one arm still around her waist, one leg thrown casually over her thighs. His breath was warm against her breast. "I don't know why I didn't think of it before."
    "You did think of it before," Isabella pointed out dryly, and she shoved at him. "I must get up. Sarina will be wondering where I am. I trust your inspection of my body met with your approval."
    "Isabella." He sat up. "What's wrong?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, confused by her reaction. "You'll be my mistress," he reassured her. "I would never give you up. I'll send for another bride if I must, but you'll stay here and live with me."
    Her chin rose a fraction. She rolled away from him, sat on the other side of the bed, and inspected the stained sheets, evidence of her lost innocence, her temper rising so that she struggled for control. "I suppose I deserve that, Signor DeMarco, and, of course, your will is my command. Will you have the decency to leave me now please?" He would send for another bride. He dared to say that to her while her body was still throbbing from the invasion of his.
    "Isabella, it's the only way to get around the curse. Don't you see?" He reached for her, but she slipped off the bed and dragged on her robe, her dark eyes stormy.
    "Don DeMarco, I'm asking you to leave my room. I have agreed to serve you in whatever capacity you require in exchange for Lucca's life. If you wish me to be your mistress, than I will do so. But I'm asking you to leave my room before I forget myself and throw something quite large at your head." She was proud that she managed to keep her voice pleasant.
    "You're angry with me."
    "How perfectly clever of you to guess. Get out!" She enunciated the words carefully on the chance he was impaired in some way. Perhaps that was what happened to a man after he lay with a woman. Perhaps they lost their senses and became perfect dolts.
    "I'm protecting you, Isabella," he pointed out reasonably as he pulled his clothes toward him. "You must see that. We have no other