Lair of the Lion

by Christine Feehan

  Nicolai sighed and gathered the reins into his hands. "He withdrew from everyone, became more savage until even I could not see the man mia madre planned to flee. He found out before she could leave the palazzo. He hunted her through the halls, up and down the stairs. She ran to the great tower, out into the small courtyard. I knew what might happen, so I followed him, to stop him, but he was too far gone. Then he turned on me." He touched the scars on his face with trembling fingers, a man remembering a boy's nightmare. He fell silent, staring out over the sparkling pond.

  "The lions saved you, didn't they, Nicolai?" she said softly.

  He nodded, his face hardening perceptibly. "Yes, they did. They killed him to save my life."

  "When you were a small boy, did the beast in you ever come out?"

  Nicolai shook the reins, and the horses began to walk. "No, not ever. But that day, in the castello, my life changed for all time. Not even Sarina could see me anymore. When they look at me--my friends, my people--they see something else. All of them." He looked down at his hands on the reins. "I see my own hands, but they do not. It's a lonely existence, cara, and I had hoped never to pass such a thing on to my child."

  "I see your hands, Nicolai." Isabella rested one gloved hand on his. "I see your face and your smile. I see you as a man." She rubbed her head against his shoulder in a small caress. "You aren't alone anymore. You have me. I'm not running from you. I'm staying with you because I want to stay." And, God help her, she did want to stay. She wanted to hold him in her arms and comfort him with her body. She wanted to chase the shadows from his eyes and banish the nightmare that had ended his childhood.

  He put the reins in one palm and enveloped her hand with the other, tucking it beneath the heavy furs to keep her warm. They rode in silence, in the white, cold world, with the moonlight beaming down on them and the snow glistening like a gem field.

  Isabella rested her head against his shoulder and stared up at the sky. The wind blew softly, sending little snow flurries flying from the tree branches. She felt the tug of it in her hair, on her face. As the conveyance glided over the snow, cutting through the wind, she felt a sense of freedom she had never had. It did feel as if they were flying, and she laughed softly, clutching the furs to her. "I love this, Nicolai. I truly do." Her laughter floated away on the wind, beckoning. Beckoning.

  An owl flew out of nowhere, straight at one of the horses, talons outstretched as if it might rake the vulnerable eyes. The horse reared, screaming, a cry of terror that echoed through the silent world. Both horses went wild, plunging and bucking, streaking through the snow, racing down the slope and through a small stand of trees.

  The conveyance tipped over, spilling them out onto the ice-cold ground. Somehow Nicolai managed to wrap his arms around Isabella. She clung to the thick fur rug, and as they rolled, it wound around them both, helping to protect them from the collision. They rolled to the bottom of the hill, a tangle of arms and legs and hair. Snow was everywhere, clinging to the fur, to their clothes, between their shivering bodies, even on their eyelashes. When they came to a stop, the wind knocked out of them, Isabella was lying on top of Nicolai, his arms wrapped around her head to protect her.

  "Isabella!" Nicolai's voice shook with concern. "Are you hurt?" His hands moved over her body, searching for injuries.

  She could feel laughter bubbling up out of nowhere and wondered if she was the first Vernaducci in history to become hysterical after all. "No, really, Nicolai, I'm just shaken up a bit. What about you?"

  He was already looking around for the horses. She felt him stiffen just as the laughter inside her faded, replaced by a creeping fear. Her hands tightened on the fur rug, and she looked cautiously around them. She glimpsed movement in the trees, sleek shadows, glowing eyes.

  Nicolai very gently lifted Isabella off him. "I want you to make for the nearest tree. Climb up it and stay there." His voice was calm, low, but held unmistakable authority. The don giving an order.

  Isabella looked around desperately for a weapon, anything at all, but found nothing. She was shivering violently from the cold. Or fear. She wasn't certain which. The horses stood only a short distance away, shaking, their bodies wet with the sweat of terror. "Nicolai." There were tears in her voice, an aching need to stay with him.

  "Do as I say, piccola. Get to a tree now." He rose to his feet, dragging her up as he did so, his eyes restlessly probing the thick stands of pine. He lifted his head and scented the wind.

  Isabella couldn't smell their enemy, but she caught glimpses of the shaggy, slender bodies as they slunk through the woods. More than that, she felt the taint of something, something malignant, something nameless and far more deadly than a pack of wolves.

  "Isabella, move!" There was no mistaking the command or the menace in Nicolai's voice, although he didn't spare her a glance.

  She dropped the fur and raced to the nearest tree. It had been years since she climbed, but she caught the lower branches and hauled herself up. Without the protection of the fur, the wind bit at her skin, piercing straight through her thin robe. Despite her gloves, her fingers felt numb as she gripped the branches. She clung there, teeth chattering, and watched with horror the scene unfolding beneath her.

  The wolves came out from the trees, their eyes fixed on their prey. Not Nicolai--the pack avoided him but moved toward the tree where Isabella perched. One, far bolder than the others, leapt, growling, its jaws snapping at her leg. A scream escaped as she jerked her leg up, scraping her skin on the tree bark.

  A lion's roar shook the valley. Angry. Fierce. A challenge. A good six hundred pounds of solid muscle, the beast leapt into the middle of the wolf pack, swiping at the most aggressive animal with a deadly paw. In desperation, the pack leapt on him, snarling and growling, rending and tearing his back, his legs, his neck, until the snow was dotted with red. The wolves were so numerous, Isabella was certain the lion would fall beneath their weight. The sight was terrifying, the sounds worse.

  "Nicolai." She whispered his name into the night, her voice aching and filled with tears. She had no idea how to help him.

  The lion shook his massive body, and the wolves went flying in all directions, yelping and crying. The beast leapt after them, swatting at the slower animals so that they screamed in terror and limped off, running away from the larger and more powerful predator.

  The lion stood still for a moment, watching them move off; then it shook its shaggy mane and shuddered. Isabella could see that red darkened the fur in many places. The huge mane, thick around its neck, down its back, and under its belly, had protected it from the worst bites, but it was wounded. It turned its head and looked at her. Amber eyes blazed at her, focused and intent.

  "Nicolai!" There was joy in her voice. She jumped out of the tree and landed on her backside in the snow.

  The massive head went down, and the beast crouched as if to spring. Isabella felt its swelling triumph in the air, dark and venomous, gloating with its power. Her breath stopped, and her heart pounded. She tasted fear. The lion's eyes never left her, the intensity of its concentration terrifying.

  Isabella sat in silence, waiting for death. She looked straight into the amber eyes. "I know it isn't you doing this, Nicolai. I know you only wanted to protect me." She said it softly, lovingly, meaning it. "You are not my enemy, and you never will be." Whatever lay in the valley with hatred and cunning, it wasn't Nicolai DeMarco. It used the killing instincts of the beasts, any intense emotions, anger and hate and fear, human or otherwise. It twisted such things to its bidding. Isabella refused to allow it to use her feelings for the don. She stared straight into those flaming amber eyes and saw death as it leapt at her. "I love you," she said softly, meaning it. Then, for the first time in her life, she fainted.

  A voice called to her, urging her to open her eyes. Isabella lay quietly in a cocoon of warmth. She had the oddest sensation that she was flying. If she was dead, it wasn't all that bad. She snuggled deeper into the warmth.

  "Cara, ope
n your eyes for me." The voice penetrated her awareness again. Rough with worry, anxious, sensual. Something in the tone melted her insides. "Isabella, look at me."

  With a great effort, she managed to lift her lashes. Nicolai was staring down at her face, holding her in his arms while he guided the horses. The conveyance was gliding over the snow at a fast pace, heading straight for the palazzo. Nicolai let out his breath in a rush of white vapor. "Don't ever do that to me again."

  Isabella found herself smiling, lifting a furred glove to trace the frown on his face. "This was a very exciting adventure, Nicolai. Grazie."

  "You told me you faint, but I didn't believe you." The accusation was somewhere between teasing and relief. "Dio, Isabella, I thought you were lost to me. You were so cold. I was selfish to bring you out here in such clothes. I'm taking you back to the castello, and we are packing your things. I'm personally escorting you out of the valley."

  To his shock, she burst out laughing. "I don't think so, Signor DeMarco." She shifted in his arms to look up at his set face. "You sent me away once and promised you would not do so again. Don't you know what happened? Don't you understand?" She caught his face in her hands. "Together we can defeat it. I know we can."

  He used one hand to put her back beneath the furs. "Stay there. You're so cold, I thought you were dead." He guided the horses along a rear wall and signaled to a guard. The conveyance was brought close to the palazzo, next to what appeared to be a seamless outer wall.

  But the wall swung open at the don's touch. Nicolai thrust her into the passageway and out of sight and waited to give the guard brisk orders to see to the horses immediately. Then he was whisking Isabella through a maze of corridors, holding her close, furs and all.

  "The wolves hurt you," she said. "I saw them. I want to help. If not, we must call Sarina. I want a healer to look at you. I have some knowledge of mixing plants, but not enough. I want Sarina or your castello's healer to look at you."

  The room he entered was hot, almost sultry. Steam rose from a pool of water lapping at the tiles. Isabella stopped talking to stare. She had heard of such things, but the palazzo of her famiglia had no such wonder.

  "You will get in immediately. I'll summon Sarina to attend you," Nicolai said, his voice harsh with emotion as he allowed her feet to touch the tiles.

  Isabella circled his neck with her arms, tipping her head back to look into his eyes as she leaned into me. "Nicolai, don't do this. Don't put me away from you. If I have the courage to stay with you and see this through, you must have the courage to believe it can be so."

  His hands caught her wrists with every intention of pulling her arms down, but instead he tightened his grip, nearly crushing her bones. His body trembled with the dark intensity of his emotions. "I could easily kill you, Isabella. Do you think mio padre did not love mia madre? He loved her more than anything. They started out just this way. Everything starts out with love and laughter, but in the end it's twisted into something ugly and wrong. This valley is cursed, and all within it are cursed. Do you think the people stay out of loyalty and love to me? They stay only because if they are away too long from the valley, they die."

  She relaxed into him. "Your padre did not tell your madre what she was facing. He didn't give her the choice. You told me she didn't even know or suspect until well after you were born. You gave me the choice. You told me the risks. I've accepted them. I know nothing of curses, but I do know people. I've been in many holdings, and none of them are like this one. Your people love you. Whatever else you think, believe that. If it is true that they are under a curse and that whatever affects you affects them, then you owe it to them to have the courage to follow this through."

  He caught her robe and dragged it from her shoulders. "Look at what I've done to you, Isabella. Look at the evidence of love gone wrong. I did this to you."

  Isabella caught at his bloody shirt and held up her smeared hand. "This is what I see, Nicolai. I see evidence of a man risking his life to save mine."

  She pulled away from him, dropped her robe to the ground, and walked down the few steps into the heated water until it covered her to her neck. The water was scalding on her cold skin, but she had only so much bravado, and she very much wanted Sarina's comfort. A lecture seemed a small thing to endure in exchange.

  Chapter Ten

  Nicolai closed his eyes against the tempting sight of Isabella. The steam rising from the hot pool only managed to make her look more alluring, more ethereal. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. Not just her body--he wanted her allegiance, her heart. Her laughter. His fingers slowly curled into two tight fists. She was looking up at him with such trust, her enormous eyes soft and gentle.

  His fists knotted harder as his emotions darkened, sweeping through him with an intensity that shook him. He felt the sharp stab of needles in his palms.

  Isabella was watching the play of emotion in his eyes. She saw the exact moment the beast won, leaping with red-orange flames into his gaze and burning out of control. She wanted to weep, but she smiled instead. "We will need Sarina, Nicolai, to look at your wounds, as I lack the knowledge."

  "I will send her to you," he replied, his voice a mixture of gruffness and sensuality. "I have no need or want of aid." He forced himself to take two steps back. Away from heaven. Away from peace and comfort. He would not dishonor Isabella or himself when he had only a painful life and a horrifying death to offer her.

  When he closed his eyes at night, he saw the terrifying scene over and over again. His mother running for her life, her mouth open wide as she screamed for mercy. Her hair had been loosened from its long braid, and the wind whipped it behind her. He had seen his father, shimmering one moment as a man, the next a massive lion, easily running her down as if she were no more than a deer in the forest or a rabbit shaking before him.

  Nicolai always ran toward them in the dream, in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable, just as he had in real life. A boy with tears streaming down his face--his parents, his life, already lost to him, a small knife gripped in his hand. It had been a pathetic weapon against such an enormous beast. But each time he closed his eyes, it happened again. He always did the same thing, always carried the same knife and always watched the lion leap upon his mother and kill her with one savage bite.

  His eyes burned, and his gut clenched in revulsion. Tonight he had stalked Isabella. At the last moment he had come to himself, hearing her call his name. Hearing her voice whisper words of love to him. Of forgiveness. Of understanding. He had allowed the beast in him to rise fully, to consume him as he fought off the wolves. That had never happened before. More and more, as his emotions deepened, intensified, his control slipped, and the beast ate away at the man. As it had consumed his father. A single sound of horror escaped his throat.

  "Don't, Nicolai," she pleaded softly. "Don't do this to yourself."

  It had taken years for his father to be seen by the people as the beast, but once that happened, it had quickly devoured him. The people had seen Nicolai as the beast since that terrible day in the courtyard when his father killed his mother and attempted to destroy him.

  "I nearly killed you." The admission was low, harsh, the truth. "It will happen, Isabella, if I don't send you away. I have no choice. It's for your own protection. You know that."

  "I know the lions refused to let me leave through the pass. I know I'm supposed to be with you." Isabella wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shaking. "It is the only thing I know for certain, Nicolai." She looked up at him with her big, innocent eyes. "You're the breath in my body, the warmth and joy in my heart. Wherever you sent me, I would wither and die. If not my body, at least my spirit. Better to have joy burning hot and bright, if only for a short time, than to die a long, endless death."

  His expression hardened, his eyes blazing with such intensity it seemed to pierce her heart until she felt actual pain. "The one thing I know with a certainty, Isabella, is that if you stay in this place with me, I will be the
one to kill you."

  The words hung in the air between them, shimmering with a life of their own. Isabella felt ice-cold terror, even though she was submerged in hot water. She lifted her chin. "So be it." She said it softly, aching for him, wanting to comfort him, wanting the solace of his arms even as the certainty of her inevitable death terrified her.

  He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving her in the water, in the darkness, in an unfamiliar room with nothing to guide her. Isabella put her head down on the pool's tiled edge and wept for both of them.

  Sarina immediately appeared and found Isabella with tears trailing down her cheeks. Appalled to hear that the young woman had gone out unescorted with Nicolai, clad only in her robe in the dead of night, Sarina clucked disapprovingly. Even so, her hands were gentle as she examined Isabella for bruises. She was silent, not asking a single question, as she attended the puncture wounds on Isabella's shoulders.

  "Did you see to Nicolai's wounds?" Isabella asked, catching the housekeeper's hand. "He fought off a pack of wolves." The hot water had taken the chill away, but she shivered all the same, remembering the terror of fleeing the hunting pack. Remembering the lion stalking her.

  "He refused to allow me to aid him." Sarina hung her head. "It is uncomfortable for both of us. He prefers to be alone." She dried Isabella and slipped her nightgown over her head. She then held out a fresh robe.

  "No one prefers to be alone, Sarina. I'll go with you, and we'll see to his wounds. He may need stitching." Isabella had to see him tonight. If she didn't, she feared for him, feared for herself. He broke her heart with his sad words.

  Sarina began to comb the tangles from Isabella's long hair. "He's in a foul mood. I didn't dare take him to task for taking you out in the weather alone, with only your robe, and for entering the room while you bathed." She hesitated, floundering for the right words. "Did he touch you, Isabella?"