“I have seen Nazzareno with many women, and he would not see any of them hurt or disrespected, but none of them had the power to wake the sleeping beast and make himroar.” He made the noise, even if quietly. He curled his fingers into claws and acted like he was slashing through something at the same time.
“His protective nature will shield your more…tender one. Not that woman are powerless creatures. The opposite. They are stronger than us—their will and their hearts. But physically, we will challenge any male sniffing around who we consider ours. The woman a man claims ashis. The woman created to be his equal. His partner. His flesh, blood, and bone.Shewho not only holdshisheart in her hands, buthissoul.” He set a hand over his heart, the look in his eyes dreamy suddenly.
“Tigran,” I whispered.
“Nazzareno must have assumed he was your man in New York.”
We both turned toward where Naz had gone. His presence seemed to linger, like it was waiting for me to follow, just to see me safe.
“And if he was?” I held my breath, even though I knew the answer.
“If a man could die twice…his family would have to say goodbye to him again.” He looked at me. “A piece of advice.” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Do not run. If the lion is awake, so are his instincts. He was born to find his mate.”
Another howl came from somewhere deep inside the house.
NINETEEN
AVA
Autumn in Romewas even more spectacular than New York in fall. I never thought another place could compare. I was wrong. The fall colors were just as spectacular, and the weather was near perfect. Warm during the day, and it seemed like it might get cooler in the evening.
Typical fall weather, except nothing seemed typical here.
The light seemed softer…like an internal fire had been stoked and the haze of it flowed, especially against all the ocher colored buildings. More like history.
The Pantheon. The Colosseum. The Trevi Fountain. The River Tiber.Piazza di Spagna.The Spanish Steps.
I’d decided earlier, as I was getting dressed, to not obsess over what Beni had told me. I know—obsession was my thing, but being with Naz took some of the edge off my passion for the Fausti family.
I mean, he was one of them, but he was also a man.
That was one thing this immersion into the Faust life was teaching me. Yeah, they behaved like a pack of lions, wild, but they were also structured, with rules and regulations. Past that, though…these men weremen.
Maybe they were different once they fell, but they still fell hard just like any other guy.
I didn’t want what Beni had told me to utterly freak me out and make me do the one thing he told me not to do…run. Because in one way, I could feel the panic of Beni’s words in my chest, and my feet were starting to feel cold. In another way, being in Rome, during autumn, with Naz felt like coming home.
I didn’t want to dwell on any of that, though. I wanted to put it all aside and get to know him better. Talk to him about everything and nothing. Concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and nothing more than the breath I was about to take.
He smelled so good, and so did the air. Like that internal fire was roasting the leaves and turning them darker, all rich reds, yellows, and browns.
I sighed when I glanced at him as we walked. I had a feeling he was as conflicted as I was, and he kept going back and forth with himself on what to think and feel about all of this. His eyes were hidden behind aviators, and I wondered if that was done on purpose—he didn’t want me to notice his inattention.
Things hadn’t gotten awkward between us, so he was keeping things close to his chest too, but a warm gooey feeling came over me when I’d catch him looking at me sometimes.
I’d see myself reflected in his lenses.
I’d worn a pumpkin-colored blazer, a white T-shirt underneath, and ankle blue jeans with runners. I spiced it up a bit with jewelry, but it was a low-key outfit for a day of exploring and walking.
He looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Like I was one of the grand structures that had been in Rome for centuries, but a place he’d never seen before.
Undoubtedly, he was the most gorgeous thingI’dever seen. Even in a long-sleeved white shirt rolled to his elbows, dark jeans, and boots…he parted crowds, had mouths hanging open, and cameras pointed in his direction. Italy was more than just the scenery to some women. It was also the men. None finer than Naz.
He was the best tour guide too.
He took me to the iconic places, like the Pantheon, where I hadn’t realized it had an open eye at the top. Naz told me the word Pantheon means “all gods,” and I sighed because…I’d watched a cooking show once where the Italian hostess called her salted pasta water “tears from the gods.” She said that when she was in Rome and visiting the Pantheon, and it rained, it was like “tears from the gods” too.
I loved when things clicked and made sense.
