Fire Maidens Venice (Billionaires & Bodyguards #7) - Anna Lowe Page 0,1

as her wings formed, the whoosh of air when she snapped them open. The tickle of wind through her feathers, and the change of perspective from high above.

Then a passerby bumped her, and she opened her eyes to reality. No wings. No lion at all. Which was a good thing, since she was out in plain sight. All shifters knew never to reveal their animal sides. Humans had no clue, and it was better to keep things that way.

Imagine if we could fly, her inner lion rumbled, still fixated on those mighty wings.

It was all too easy to since she’d dreamed of flying often — all the more since moving to Venice.

Her smile slowly faded as she remembered the ridicule she’d been subjected to as a kid.

Someday, I’ll fly too, she’d announced to her siblings.

They’d hooted. Sure. A flying lion. Can’t wait to see.

She’d run away, red-faced, and collapsed into tears.

Now, as then, she forced herself to keep her chin high. Being able to shift into lion form was special enough, and she ought to be grateful for that ability. Why wish for more?

But somehow, she couldn’t help it. Not just wishing or dreaming but yearning from the depths of her soul. If only those dreams would come true, giving her wings just like the statue before her.

She forced a little smile. Just like it — but without the mane. She was a female, after all. Plus, her curly human hair was hard enough to manage, so she could do without the mane.

And the other hardware, her lioness giggled.

She resisted the urge to check how anatomically correct the sculpted lion was.

Just then, the bell tower across the water at San Giorgio Maggiore rang in the hour.

Bong… Bong… Bong…

Cara checked her watch and cursed. Six p.m. already?

Then she spotted another garishly costumed couple and groaned, remembering her plans for the night.

Not exactly our plans, her lioness grumbled.

She set off, scuffing the pavement. Parties weren’t her thing. Why had she agreed to attend a fancy ball tonight?

Because you only live once, Grazia, her landlady, had said. And you haven’t lived until you’ve been to carnival in Venice — properly, at the ball my friend is throwing at the Palazzo Marsetti tonight. Then Grazia finished with a broad grin. Don’t worry. I’ll find you a costume.

Cara looked back at the lion sculpture and sighed. She would rather be knee-deep in the lagoon’s mudflats, working the job she loved. Important work restoring delicate ecosystems. Parties just weren’t her thing.

Still, Grazia was right. Life was short, and she had to live hers to the fullest. Even if a ball in Venice wasn’t high on her bucket list, she didn’t exactly have better plans for the night.

She thumped the mud boots against her leg and squared her shoulders. Enough obsessing about beasts, legends, and wings. Time was short, and she had a ball to attend. And who knew? Maybe Grazia had been kind enough to get her a costume with wings.

She set off with a grin. A girl could wish.

Chapter Two

Tony strode through the streets of Venice, trying to convince himself this was a good idea. But as soon as he turned the corner to the Piazza San Marco, his steps slowed. All those people… All those years he’d spent away…

“Come on, already.” His cousin Rocco prodded him from behind. “When are you going to get a better chance to do this?”

Tony looked around, still soaking it all in. Venice, where he’d been born and bred. The only place he’d ever called home, and the only place he ever would.

But as a man framed for a murder he didn’t commit, he couldn’t risk setting foot there ever again.

Somewhere in the distance, the bells of San Giorgio Maggiore rang in the hour.

Bong… Bong…

He checked his watch, not so much concerned with the time — nine p.m. — as the sanity of his plan.

“Don’t worry,” Rocco said. “No one will recognize you. Not with that mask on.”

Tony glanced around, readjusting his full-face carnival mask — a black one with bronze highlights and a passive expression he couldn’t mirror inside.

For years, he’d dreamed of being back in Venice. But now that he was steps away from the glittering facade of Basilica San Marco, he barely noticed it. The piazza was crowded with people. Surely someone would recognize him?

On the other hand, many people were wearing masks and costumes — most more spectacular than his. No one would give him a second glance when they could gawk at the fully