by Anna Lowe
“That’s my guess. That’s why I need to get you away from there.”
She clutched his arm. “What about Amber? Is she in danger?” She started turning the jet ski around. “We have to go back.”
Sergio threw his arm out. “No way. Too dangerous for you.”
“Dangerous for her too. Vicente could do anything when he finds out it’s not Amber. He could strangle her. Throw her overboard…”
Sergio shrugged in an Oh well way, and she thumped his shoulder. “We have to warn her.”
He shook his head. “Too big a risk.”
“But—”
“Would Amber go back for you?”
Lena sighed. “Probably not. But that’s no reason not to do the right thing.”
He stared at her for a moment. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
She snorted. “Doing the right thing isn’t amazing.”
“It is for most people. So, no. You are not going back. Besides, Amber has a way of looking out for herself. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
Lena wasn’t at all sure, but she reluctantly headed toward land.
“What now?”
“We find someplace safe. I’ll get in touch with my friend Marco and see whether it’s best to bring you in.”
“In where?”
“To the Guardians.”
She wanted to press him for more, but he shook his head.
“I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to get to land.”
Her fingers tightened around the handlebars. There was so much she wanted to ask. But Sergio was right. The more distance she put between herself and Vicente, the better.
For the next few minutes, they puttered over the water wordlessly. The ocean was calm, and the tiny ripples reflected the moonlight. Under any other circumstances, it would even have been magical. All that water, all those stars. And that moonlight, stretching out space and time, making her feel like an astronaut.
Too bad she’d offered to drive. If she’d been on the back, she could have grabbed her camera and snapped a picture or two.
Then it all hit her again, and she banished the thought. The sooner she got away from Vicente, the safer she would be, and the sooner Sergio could explain what was going on.
“Over there.” Sergio pointed to a dark section of beach away from the harbor’s bright lights.
She coasted in carefully, then dismounted, splashing into the ankle-deep water. Sergio pushed the jet ski back out to sea, then hustled her onward. Within minutes, they had crossed a quiet road and were deep into a neglected industrial area of low buildings and small warehouses. Music came from a distant bar, and Sergio paused, sniffing the air.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait—”
But it was too late. In no time, Sergio was halfway down the block, stealing from one shadow to another with military efficiency. And then, just like that, he was gone.
She drew back and peered around the corner, hoping to spot him. But there was nothing, just the fishy smell of the harbor and outdated disco music filtering into the night from the bar. Somewhere not too far away, someone was boiling a pot of garlic-laced spaghetti sauce. If she hadn’t snagged her share of hors d’oeuvres on the yacht, her stomach might have rumbled.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes into nearly a quarter hour. A very anxious quarter of an hour in which Lena touched the gem through her pocket and wondered why she’d ever left home.
But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. She couldn’t imagine going back now. Moving to Rome had been the most spontaneous, liberating thing she’d done. Her previous job as photographer and web designer in a marketing firm hadn’t been terrible, but there was nothing creative or stimulating about it. Rome felt like home already. It felt like…like…
Destiny, a faint voice murmured from inside.
She gulped. Was destiny guiding her to a fulfilling new life or a tragic end?
A motor revved, and she jumped back as a sporty motorcycle raced into view. When the driver beckoned, she did a double take.
“Sergio?”
“Fretta.” Hurry. He motioned to the space behind him on the seat.
She stared. “You stole that?”
“Borrowed. I swear I’ll return it — eventually. Can we get going, please?”
She considered. She’d already stolen a jet ski. Now a motorcycle?
Just then, a floodlight pierced the darkness of the bay. Had someone on Audace just raised the alarm?
She jumped on behind Sergio and threw her arms around his waist. Just in time, because he raced off in a near-wheelie that almost threw her off the back. For the next five minutes, she hung on for dear life as Sergio slalomed through a series of winding alleys. Then came a long, rattly section of cobblestones that nearly shook her teeth loose. Finally, Sergio accelerated down a long, dim section of single-lane road.
“Where are we going?” she asked, peering into the narrow beam cast ahead by the motorcycle’s headlight.
“Not sure yet.”
Lena closed her eyes. It had to be the craziest night of her life, but having Sergio close helped.
The closer, the better, that inner voice murmured.
Having him hold her on the jet ski had helped calm her nerves, but riding behind him was even better, because it was her turn to wrap her arms around his waist, lean in, and sniff his heavenly scent.
Nice, she nearly hummed. Or was that her inner beast?
Then she realized Sergio had spent the jet ski ride doing the exact same thing to her. Hanging on happily, leaning in, sniffing her scent.
Her heart thumped a little harder. That out-of-nowhere kiss on the yacht had proven the attraction was mutual. What exactly did that mean?
Nothing, she told herself sternly. Sergio had Big Mistake written all over him. He was rough. Tough. Dangerous. Scarred by experience and handsome as hell — all of which meant he was easy to fall in love with, just like her mother had fallen for her father.
She forced herself to loosen her grip and lean away. But that was impossible on a motorcycle speeding down a bumpy road, and soon, she was nestled nice and close again. Cozily, she might have said, had it not been for the way her back started aching. Was that from rattling along, or was she starting to shift again?
Rattling, she told herself. No way was she shifting tonight.
After about twenty minutes of steady driving, Sergio pointed silently to the right.
What? she nearly asked.
Then she saw it: a long, shadowy line that grew out of the landscape like an express train rising from the netherworld. A second line appeared beyond it, converging until the two ran parallel, and both structures rose higher with every quarter mile they drove.
Aqueducts, Lena realized. Kilometer-long, millennia-old Roman aqueducts that stretched out in a series of graceful arches. Here and there, a section had collapsed, but otherwise, the aqueducts were mostly intact.
Sergio took a sharp right turn, zoomed under one arch, then twisted to the left, following a dirt path between the two aqueducts. Moonlight bathed the monuments from the east, and Lena’s finger twitched over an imaginary camera.
To her surprise, Sergio coasted to a stop. When he cut the engine, silence set in. Or rather, peace, because crickets were chirping madly, and an owl hooted from a faraway tree. A million stars sparkled overhead, winking brilliantly. The scene was so peaceful and isolated, Lena could almost pretend there was no Vicente, no trouble. Just her and Sergio snuggled comfortably together, alone.
But the gem pulsed, reminding her of the danger she was in, and a dull ache registered from the pit of her stomach.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Sergio shook his head. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s Vicente.” He followed that up with a hissed Italian expletive, then a sigh. “The question is, what to do now?”
She hated not having a good answer to that, but one idea did pop into her mind.
&
nbsp; “You mentioned Guardians. Who are they?”
Sergio hesitated, then spoke. “Each of the great cities of Europe has its own Guardians — powerful figures who are supposed to maintain peace among shifters and other supernaturals.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood at supposed to and supernaturals.
She gulped. “Other what?”
“Supernaturals. Shifters, vampires, witches…”
Her arms must have tightened around his waist, because Sergio hurried to add, “Rome mostly has shifters, though.”
That was supposed to comfort her?
“Do the Guardians try to maintain peace or do they succeed?” she finally asked.
“They try. Peace is as ephemeral for humans as it is for shifters.” He sighed. “It comes and goes, and our fates are intertwined. Take the past century. Periods of prosperity, periods of war. The dark years under Mussolini. War, then peace. Building partnerships. But now…” His voice dropped.
Lena pursed her lips, wondering if the now meant shifter matters or the problems of the human world. Terrorism. Fearmongering. Isolationism. Some of those issues, she could combat through photos that captured a poignant truth or highlighted an injustice. But shifter troubles… What could she possibly do?
For a moment, they both stared silently into the darkness.
“Do you trust the Guardians?” she finally asked.
Sergio didn’t answer right away. “Yes and no. They don’t want Vicente seizing power any more than we do. But it’s not just about the gem. There’s you, too. You’re a Fire Maiden.”
He uttered the unfamiliar words so reverently, she shook her head. She was just her. But deep inside, something stirred in recognition.
“A fire what?”
“Fire Maiden. A descendant of a powerful dragon queen. Cities prosper when they have a Fire Maiden in residence, and Rome hasn’t had one in years.”
She frowned, not sold on the idea of possessing some kind of power. And as for being descended from royalty…
She shook away the preposterous notion. “I can’t even shift fully.”
“Maybe not yet, but soon.”
She shivered. Honestly, shifting didn’t have much appeal. Maybe she could find a way to avoid it. Forever.
A growl sounded deep inside her, and her muscles cramped. Must shift. Must let me out.
She doubled over, gasping. Please, not here. Not now.
Sergio twisted around. “What’s wrong?”
She gulped, trying to fight that inner intruder away. “It’s happening again.”
Her fingers clawed at the air, and her back ached. She looked around desperately. The moon wasn’t even full, and yet, her skin went dry and itchy, just as it had before.
Sergio put a hand over her arm. “You’re in control. Not the beast.”
“Try telling that to a dragon,” she gasped as her shoulders hunched.
It won’t hurt if you don’t fight me, the inner voice growled.
Sergio rubbed her hands with his thumbs. “No one tells you what to do, Lena.”
She gulped hard and pictured herself — her human self — standing strong and tall. No one told her what to do.
You are not coming out, she ordered the beast. Not until I tell you.
When, then? it whined.
Never would be good, but that wasn’t going to work. Instead, she settled for, Soon, but not tonight. Lord knew it had been a crazy enough night.
Promise, the beast insisted.
She gritted her teeth. I promise, but I pick the time and place, not you.
But when?
Was there ever a good time to shift? She doubted it.
When Sergio says so, all right? she snipped, annoyed.
With Sergio? her dragon side cooed, perking up. That would be nice.
Lena wasn’t sure about nice, but the thought was comforting, for sure. And it worked, because the inner beast crept back to wherever it resided within her, distracted by happy thoughts.
“See? You’re in control.” Sergio patted her arms once she relaxed slightly.
Barely. She frowned, looking up. The moon wasn’t full, but it still seemed to empower her animal side, as did the gem in her pocket.
“Is there any place we can go? To get out of the open, I mean.” Sergio studied her — long enough to make her murmur, “I know I’m supposed to be in charge, but if you remind me one more time, I might have to smack you. Nothing personal.”
He laughed, and the sound carried over the field. “Allora. We will find a place to stop for the night.” He looked around, considering. Then he nodded to himself and started the engine. “Can you wait another five minutes?”
She nodded, and he took off, zooming over the bumps and curves of that single dirt track. Eventually, he cut under one of the aqueducts and coasted to a small house at the edge of a tiny settlement.
“This is it.” He dismounted, as did she, and they pushed the motorcycle out of sight.
Lena looked around, wondering whether the neighboring houses were unoccupied or simply quiet. It was going on midnight, and other than a lone car passing in the distance, nothing stirred.
“It’s nothing fancy…” Sergio warned, plucking a skeleton key from above a doorway.
She snorted. “Anything with four walls and a roof works right now.”
Quietly, Sergio unlocked the door. With a last, furtive look outside, he ushered her in and up a set of stairs.
“I set up this place for emergencies. Usually, I stay in the place provided by my employers. But just in case…”
Lena shivered. The Guardians, again. Was there anyone she and Sergio could trust?
Each other, a little voice told her.
She let out a slow breath. Thank goodness for that.
The skeleton key fit the upstairs door too, and Sergio pushed it open with a creak. Instead of turning the outdated, twist-type light switch, he went to a table, struck a match, and lit a candle.
“All right with you?”
The candle cast splintered shadows over unadorned walls. It was a studio apartment set up under the roof — an open living room/bedroom, plus a kitchen niche and a bathroom in one corner. The few furnishings — a bed and a table — were covered with sheets. Clearly, Sergio hadn’t used the place often. A good omen, she hoped.
The only remotely aesthetic feature of the place was the candles — thick candles stuck in decades-old wine bottles covered in long drips of wax. Three large, shuttered windows faced the aqueducts, and a smaller window in the kitchen area allowed in a beam of moonlight.
Sergio pulled the curtains, then tapped a message into his phone.
“Who are you contacting?” Lena twisted her hands nervously.
“Marco. A man I trust with my life — and even with yours.”
Her heart thumped a little harder at what that implied — that her life was something special, even more precious than his own.
Sergio sent his message, then puffed out his cheeks and looked around. “Would you like a drink?”
She nodded, watching as he turned the squeaky faucet in the kitchen — one of those x-shaped antique fixtures, as old as the light switch. But the water she sipped a moment later was clear and refreshing. Sergio, meanwhile, cursed at the spider web in one corner, but Lena didn’t care.
“I have a mob boss/wolf shifter after me and some kind of animal trying to break out of my body. Teensy little spiders are no problem.” She hugged herself, swallowing hard. “But it has been a shitty day. Well, except for that one highlight.”
Sergio had set down the candle to pull the sheets off the dining room table and double bed. At her remark, he tilted his head. Did he really have no clue what she meant?
“That kiss,” she whispered shyly.
A crinkled little smile formed in the corner of Sergio’s mouth, and his eyes sparkled. He bundled up the sheets and tossed them on a chair, then stepped closer.
“We could do it again, you know. I mean, if you thought it wou
ld help,” he hastened to add.
His voice was rough and deep. Was his wolf prompting him?
Oh, it would definitely help, Lena’s inner voice purred, all soft and sultry.
“Worth a try,” she murmured, trying to strike a casual note.
When Sergio inched closer, she opened her arms, welcoming him in.
“Definitely worth a try,” Sergio whispered, stepping into her space.
Lena rolled onto the balls of her feet. At the very last second, she closed her eyes, but that didn’t stop her from finding his lips. The moment they connected, tingles shot through her body, and her blood warmed. Her inner beast was definitely stirring again. And not just stirring, but filling her mind with all kinds of dirty thoughts.
I’m in charge, she insisted.
Sure. Fine, the beast chuckled. Just keep up that kissing, all right?
Sergio’s lips were smooth and soft — surprisingly so for a man that rough and tough. They rippled over hers, and she swore his soul sighed the way hers did, saying, Finally. I find a little peace.
She gulped. Her mother would have called him a Big Mistake, but it felt more like the chance of a lifetime.
Mate, her inner beast rumbled.
Which was what, exactly?
Before long, she stopped caring. Stopped thinking, in fact, concentrating instead on the intricacies of that kiss. Like finding the perfect angle of intersection or echoing the tiny movements of Sergio’s lips. As his arms slid around her shoulders, she felt cherished. Protected. Safe.
When they broke apart for a breath of air, she smiled. “Make that two highlights to my day.”
Sergio grinned, then kissed her again. “Three.” Growing more serious, he leaned in and slowly did it again. “Four…”
He tilted his head a little more and whispered, “Five…”
Lena’s eyes slid shut through six and seven. By eight, her hips were jammed against his, her hands sneaking down that perfect ass of his.
Sergio mumbled his way through nine, and after that…
After that, Lena lost count. All she tuned in to was how good it felt.
Chapter Eight
“Over here,” Lena tugged Sergio toward the bed. The longer they kissed, the more her body burned.