Now her stomach began to heave as the change took her to all fours in the dirt. Brown fur began to sprout from her skin, an agonizing itch she couldn’t scratch. Her clothes shredded as her body reformed, seams bursting and buttons flying.
Terror wanted to consume her but she knew she had to keep it under control. She was all alone. If something went wrong—
No, she couldn’t think about that. Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she concentrated instead on riding out the pain, on not letting it overpower her. She was hyperventilating and she knew it, so she made an effort to rein it in, taking long, deep breaths even as the bones in her face reconfigured in terrifying ways.
No, not terrifying. Get a grip, Arabella. You’ve seen your family do this a hundred times.
She clung to the thought like it was a lifeline and she was drowning as her ribs restructured and the joints in her arms bent backwards.
She had no sense of time as her body made its first change, just that the agony never seemed to end.
Until finally, it did.
For several minutes, she lay on the ground, just breathing. When she thought she’d be able to stand, she rose on her paws, unsteady in her new form. Her joints ached, her bones hurt—her snout, especially.
She wanted her mother. Whining, she made her way to the door, stumbling on wobbly legs. She sniffed the air around the door, her sense of smell ten times more powerful in this form than in her human body.
She caught Cole’s scent, Cal’s, and, beyond that, her parents. She began to claw at the door, though it hurt her still-tender paws. She had to get out. She was trapped in here and she couldn’t stand— No, the wolf couldn’t stand it. Cover was good but not without an exit, an escape.
Suddenly, she caught a scent she didn’t recognize, a human. But not human. Someone with power, though it was different from hers. It came from within, instead of being drawn from nature.
He was running, fast, straight for her, until he was right outside. Backing into the corner farthest from the door, she bared her teeth, trying to look fearsome though she shook like a leaf in the wind.
It seemed to take forever for the door to open and when it did, she growled, surprised that she still sounded vaguely like herself.
She didn’t expect a boy to open the door, a dark-haired teenager who looked to be Cole’s age.
He drew in a deep breath at the sight of her and froze, though she didn’t smell fear. Confusion, doubt, then shocked realization crossed his expression and he slowly lowered himself onto his knees, one hand outstretched.
“Arabella, I’m Steven Castiglione. I’m here to help. You have to come with me now.”
She growled again. Who was this boy to tell her what she had to do? Cole had said he would come for her. Or Cal or her parents. She wasn’t going anywhere with this stranger.
As if he’d read her mind, Steven grimaced and his eyes shadowed. “Your parents can’t come for you, Arabella. You must come with me. I won’t hurt you.”
He backed away until he stood outside the shelter, far enough away from the door that she had enough room to escape. Sniffing, she didn’t smell anyone else. He’d come alone.
She growled, unable to speak in this form. She needed to speak, needed to ask questions. But how was she supposed to change back?
She tried to think even as she snapped at the boy, who continued to talk to her. What had her mom told her when she’d asked how you changed back? How had she explained it?
Concentrate on reshaping the body, on calling back the pelt and the snout and the paws.
Blessed Goddess, she didn’t know if she could do this, not with the uncertainty and the fear and the realization that something was very wrong.
No. No, she could do this. She
had
to do this.
Pushing everything out of her mind, she found the strength of will to call back the animal, to conquer nature and return to human form. It wasn’t as painful this way. Her bones and muscles knew the wolf was only a temporary state, that this was her true form.
It took her longer than it should have, but it would get easier. Her mom had told her that, too.
When she recovered, drained and naked on the ground that had absorbed her energy back into it, she raised her head to find the boy standing with his back to her.
When he turned and moved toward her, his expression held an overwhelming sadness that chilled her to the bone. He towered over her, his too-long hair shadowing a lean face. Then he pulled his t-shirt over his head and kneeled beside her. He helped her sit, helped her into his shirt, averting his eyes as if embarrassed by her nudity.
Must not be
versipellis.
The random thought flitted through her mind. He didn’t smell like one, either, though his blood carried
arus
, the magic inherent in all descendents of the Etruscan magical races.
“I’m sorry, Arabella, but we have to go.”
She shook her head. “Where’s my mom and dad?”
His mouth firmed but he looked her straight in the eyes. “They can’t help you now. You have to come with me.”
No. She refused to hear what he wasn’t saying. With a burst of strength, she broke away from the startled teen and ran out the door.
Through the forest, her legs still wobbly, her stomach knotted tight in fear, she ran toward the house. She could smell blood and, though it made her want to curl into a tight little ball and cry, she forced herself to run faster.
Steven followed, but she outdistanced him in seconds, fear giving her wings. Vaguely, she felt some power call to her, something that wanted her to slow, to calm, to wait.
She was too far gone to wait. She barely felt the underbrush tear at her legs as she raced home.
It didn’t take her long to reach the house by the edge of the woods. An unfamiliar, battered Jeep sat in the dirt driveway.
Her heart leapt to see her brother sitting on its tailgate, head in his hands.
“Cole!”
Her scream made him lift his head and she saw tears streaming down his face.
“Are you okay?” She skidded to a stop by his side and threw her arms around his shoulders. “What’s going on? Where’s Mom and Dad?”
Cole’s arms wrapped around her waist and crushed her against him, as if he needed the comfort.
And that terrified her.
“Cole?”
“I’m sorry, Bella. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t help…they were already gone.”
That’s when she saw them. Or rather, their bodies.
Cal, her mother, her father. Lying next to the house while a stranger stood over them, hands outstretched, chanting.
“No!”
She tore away from Cole and ran for them, for her mom, but another pair of arms came around her from behind and lifted her off her feet.
Kicking and crying, she fought to get away.
Steven held her, crooning something she didn’t fully understand in her ear. The words helped to calm her but the grief continued to build.
“Let her go, Steven. It’s alright.”
“Dad, I don’t think—”
“She needs to see. Come here, Arabella.”
The man who’d been standing over her parents and brother stood and held out his hand. She ignored him and ran for her family, dropping to her knees beside them.
Cal had a wound on his chest. Mom did, too. There was a blanket over her dad’s face. Instinctively, she reached for it, but the man who’d called to her grabbed her hand.
She turned. He looked somewhat like the boy, though he was older and his dark hair was laced with gray.
“You don’t want to do that.” The man’s voice held a gentle note despite his hard expression. “They shot him first. They had to, or he could have beaten them. Your mother and brother fought well, but the cowards shot them both in the back.”
Her chest hurt so bad, she didn’t know if she could breathe. Gone. Her parents were gone. And Cal, too.
She sobbed, laying her head on her mom’s stomach and cried even harder at the stillness of the body.
* * *
Steven watched the girl pour out her agony with her tears, his own sense of failure weighing on his shoulders.
They’d been too late. His dad, a legendary Etruscan
grigorio
with magical powers to rival the gods, had gotten the call only an hour ago that the
lucani
royal family was under attack. They’d raced up here from Chester County but the four
Malandante
assassins had killed Cole and Bella’s parents and older brother before his dad had killed them.
In one swoop, the
Mal
had killed the king and queen of the Etruscan
lucani
and their oldest heir. As one of the last royal
versipelli
families in the world, their deaths would rock the foundation of the magical Etruscan society in America.
The question was, why now? The
lucani
hadn’t made any aggressive moves on the
Mal
in years. More like centuries. The Luporeales had been more interested in keeping the
lucani
from splintering into factions.
Why the hell had the
Mal
killed them?
And broken this girl’s heart?
After a while, Arabella’s sobs finally faded but her expression was so desolate, his heart hurt for her. The boy, Cole, was just as devastated. His dad was talking to Cole now, his voice strong and solid as Cole cried too.
Leaving Steven with Arabella.
Kneeling next to the girl, remembering the absolute sorrow he’d felt when his mom had died, he laid his hand on her shoulder.
After several minutes, she finally calmed enough to look up at him, her pretty face red and blotchy. He wanted to take away all her fear, all her sorrow. He wanted to make this better.
He knew he couldn’t.
“We need to go.” He held out his hand and watched as she stared at it for several seconds. Finally, she took it and let him draw her to her feet. Then he picked her up in his arms and held her against his chest. She couldn’t weigh more than eighty pounds.
“We can’t leave them.” Her voice, barely a whisper, reverberated against his chest.
“We won’t.” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to make her cry again. “We’ll bury them first.”
Her lower lip trembled and she bit into it until she drew blood. “Where are we going? Where’s Cole?”
“Cole’s right here. He’s coming with us, too. You’ll live with us now. I’ll take care of you, Arabella.”
Chapter Two
Present Day
Bella stared at the envelope in her hand, chest tight as she traced his name with her finger.
Would he come? Hell, would he even open the damn thing when he realized it was from her?
Damn him to the depths of Aitás and the not-so-loving embrace of a
tukhulkha
demon. She was
so
sick of this situation.
Her nose wrinkled and she sighed. Okay, maybe the demon was a little much. She didn’t want him injured. At least, not permanently.
She needed him. And he needed her.
Last week had proved it.
The blasted man either didn’t have a clue what was going on in his narrow little world or he didn’t care and was lost to her forever.
Sudden, agonizing pain burned in her chest, like acid on skin. Her lungs contracted and tears gathered in her eyes.
Damn him.
He’d been gone three years. Three, torturous years and she’d had enough.
He would come back.
Whether he wanted to or not.
* * *
I need you. Please come.
The note wasn’t signed but Steven Carter would recognize that handwriting anywhere.
He didn’t know if he was more shocked by the letter’s arrival or by Bella’s use of the word “please.”
Then shock gave way to something else, something dark and forbidden. Something he’d worked hard to eradicate from his life these past three years.
Fierce, hot desire.
His body wanted to wallow in it, to let it rise up and devour him whole. He wanted to go to her, run to her and—
And what? What has changed?
Not a damn thing.
With an effort, Steven submerged those feelings and the fierce rush of anger that came with them. He couldn’t afford the emotion.
Rising, he tossed the note on the desk and walked to the wall of windows overlooking Tampa Bay. Strong summer sunshine beat on the glass but behind it, here on the top floor, he was cool.
He’d worked hard the past three years to get here, to this office. To forget that the name his coworkers called him was as much a cover as the expensive clothes he wore. To forget the life he’d left behind. To forget her.
The contract on his desk, a will for one of the richest men in the state, showed just how far he’d come.
Garrison Laveau trusted Steven to write a will that would screw his family six ways to Sunday. Laveau was a twisted son-of-a-bitch with more power and money than any man should have. And he’d chosen Steven to do his dirty work.
Bella had chosen him once. From the moment they’d met, eleven years ago, they’d been inseparable.
Until it had all fallen apart three years ago.
Why had she contacted him now?
“Steven.”
The woman’s voice caught him off guard and he took a brief second to compose his expression before he turned to face Tiffani Jones.
The dark wood of the door trim framed her blonde beauty perfectly, her aristocratic features the very definition of haughty. Smart, spoiled and supremely self-absorbed, Tiff wanted for nothing and what she couldn’t get for herself, her father—Steven’s mentor and a senior partner at Case and Jones—gave her.
Unfortunately, she’d set her sights on Steven.
He’d tried to disabuse her of the notion but she clung to the thought like a terrier with a bone.
He didn’t have to force a smile with that thought rolling around his head. Good thing she couldn’t read his mind. “Hello, Tiffani. What’s up?”
She waved a piece of paper in his direction. “The museum gala is next Friday. We need to RSVP today.”
He stifled a sigh at her possessive tone and forced an appropriately apologetic smile. “I’d love to but I’ve got too much on my plate at the moment. And I may have to take a trip.”