He’d only been back in his hometown for less than an hour when Uberto had his first revelation. The cobblestone streets of Santa Biago were hell on his shoes. New York streets were bad, but this was going to take some getting used to.

Ten years should have felt like a lifetime, and yet it almost felt like he’d only made a quick trip outside of town and turned right back around a few minutes ago. The market at the end of the street looked like it always did. The stalls out in front of the market had a fresh coat of paint. And Mrs. Mancini was standing beside the door, her broom in her hands as she swept at the invisible specks of dust on her front step.

She looked up and smiled at him as if she did it every morning.

He returned the grin because Mrs. Mancini had always been a sweet lady. And on the worst day of his life, she’d taken him in, sat him down on a chair beside her counter and gave him a soda. She let him sit there staring at the open mouth of the bottle for hours before he finally drained the thing in one long gulp, stood up, and walked home.

Wasn’t that exactly what he was doing here? Walking home. There were a few people standing outside the butcher and the conversation stopped as he walked by. He gave them all a nod and kept walking. To be honest, it was a better reaction than he had expected since he hadn’t told anyone that he was coming.

If he had called to say that he was coming back, he would have been told to stay away, or he’d find his family jewels in a box. He should have stayed back in New York for that alone, because he was kind of attached to his family jewels, even though they were particularly blue. Bluer than the Hope Diamond, but that was a problem for another time.

A window shot up down the street and an older man looked out, leaning on the window frame. “Uberto!”

He stopped and lifted his hand up in a greeting. Mr. Cassini had taught him as a child.

“What are you doing back? Tired of the big city?”

Uberto opened his mouth to reply and found himself silent and rooted to the spot. At the end of the street, a big red door opened into the house. He didn’t have to ask himself who it was behind the door. He knew exactly who it was.

But he didn’t expect her to look… like that.

The woman who stepped out into the warm midday sun wore red heels, with little bows at the back, drawing his gaze to her ankles and then her calves.

By the time his eyes met the flirty box-pleats just south of her knees, he was shaking. When he got around the sweet curves of her thighs he was ready to fall on his knees and beg her for another chance. That’s exactly why he didn’t move.

He was far enough away from her that if she did see him, he’d have a few moments to enjoy the view before she sank fangs into his throat and tried to kill him.

Emiliana turned around on those gorgeous heels and nailed him with a look. A look that said she knew exactly what he’d been thinking and the smile on her face said, she was ready for a fight.

When she started to move it wasn’t a run, it wasn’t even a fast walk. Instead, the woman who’d made every night that they’d been apart a nightmare, walked toward him like a model on a catwalk. Her heels, the flirty skirt, and the deep V of her blouse gave him a view that would be forever emblazoned in his memory until the end of time. A form to worship in his head if she turned him away… again.

Her face. There was no one in the world who could make hate look so good.

Really, Emiliana Bruno should have been a snake shifter. She knew how to pin a man to the spot with those eyes and while he was standing there dreaming of her naked and writhing in the sheets, she could get close enough to rip out his throat.

He just hoped that he’d get to kiss her first.

“Hello, Emiliana.”

“Hello?” Her voice dripped with venom and he couldn’t help the smile that twisted at his lips. “You’re American now?”

“I’m the same man that I was the last time we… saw each other.”

Damn if she didn’t look disappointed. “Well, it was to be expected.”

“Expected.” What he wouldn’t give to turn her over his knee, and show her how unexpected he could be.

“And don’t you look at me that way, Uberto.”

Oh, he heard a hint of fire in her tone. He’d rather that than the frostbite he’d had a moment before. Holding up his hands in surrender he let out a pent-up breath. “Ana, I-”

“Don’t you call me that, ‘Berto!” She was suddenly close enough to breathe in and hot enough to melt him into a little puddle. Her hands were fisted in his shirt and the top button had come undone and still they weren’t close enough. Not nearly close enough.

His bear raged at him, clawed at him from the inside until he felt raw and bleeding. One look into her midnight-dark eyes said she felt the same thing. Their bears had more sense than they did, but he wasn’t going to say that to her. He liked having his body in one piece.

“We can’t keep going like this,” he told her, his whole body was begging him to pull her closer, tell her everything was going to be okay, that he’d fix everything for her, but telling her that was going to put them on opposite sides again.

“Going?” She huffed. “You were gone!”

Gone. On opposite sides of the world, okay, but while he was in Santa Biago, he wanted to be able to see her and not end up fighting. At least not like this. If she wanted to fight, they could go into the woods and shed their skin, wrestle until one of them had their teeth dug into the other’s neck. And then sink other things into the other until they were too weak to fight.

Or he’d love to take her dancing. He’d learned a lot of things since he’d left Italy. Seen a lot of things too.

Like his brothers finding their mates. Finding love.

It was a hard thing to admit, even to himself, but the last time he’d seen Emiliana they weren’t wearing anything more than sweat.

“Go back to America, ‘Berto.” She hissed out the words.

Shaking his head, he looked over her beautiful face. “At least you didn’t use your claws on me.”

Her smile was real. A flash of sweet recognition and base pleasure in her eyes. “You remember that too?”

He did. He remembered it all too well.

She’d stalked him through the woods, bear hunting bear. He’d scented her power and her passion, and it made him slow, just a hair too slow.

Emiliana Bruno, the middle child of Alfonse Bruno, the fiercest shifter he’d ever met, had taken him down at the knees, driven him into the grassy floor of the forest and lightly scored his neck with her fangs. A painful nip.

They’d tumbled and twisted, finally coming to rest under a tree, fur receding into their skin, leaving skin slick with sweat, the scent of arousal hanging heavy in the air.

Her mouth was still on his neck, her hands wrapped around his torso. He’d turned the tables on her in a heartbeat, twisting around to cage her luscious body in his embrace. He’d pressed her into the grass, his hands moving over her body. Her breasts molded into his hands, her hips pushed back against his. It didn’t take long before he’d slid into her body, her slick heat welcoming his thick intrusion.

From there it was all instinct and hormones, nature’s pull and the need that rushed through them both.

Her fingers bit into the ground as her tongue swept along the side of his neck, fangs trailing along with it, deep enough to scratch. He felt the sting and prick of his wounds as his sweat made him itch.

She taunted him, made demands, and then begged for his touch. She’d cursed at him with words hard enough to make him bleed, and he’d smiled and given her what she’d asked for… what he’d dreamed of.

He gave her passion and ecstasy. And when she came apart in his arms, her voice mixing with a roar, he sank his fangs into her shoulder and emptied himself into her body. She sank into his embrace, dragging him down on top of her. They ended in a knot of limbs and sated hearts.

Emiliana stirred in his arms as if she was coming out of a dream. Uberto wasn’t any better, struggling to find his footing. The memory was a potent one that had been his constant companion for years.

It felt good to know that she wasn’t immune to the pull of their past. It certainly did a number on him regularly.

She came out of her stupor as if he’d thrown ice-cold water in her face. She sputtered and slapped at his shoulders, her bear receding from her eyes. “Go back, ‘Berto!”

He stepped back, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Pointing her finger at him, she took a few steps away. “All you do is cause trouble.”

“I’m here for the annual meeting of the elders in the valley.”

She swore, and it didn’t bother him. She could cut a man with her words and he was fine with that if she soothed him with her tongue afterwards. He’d had dreams about that too.

“Stop it!”

“Stop what?” He challenged, answering her back with his bear in his eyes. Two could play at that game. “What am I doing, Ana? Mia anima.”

“You’ve got that look on your face.” She glared at him. “That stupid, stupid look.”

He pointed at his face. “I can’t help the look on my face. It’s the one I was born with.”

She bared her teeth at him, instead of being angry or scared. The look of rage and mayhem on her face made him rock hard. “See? That look!”

“I can’t help it if your anger makes me smile. You are so very lovely when you want to hurt me.”

“Then I’m about to make you ecstatic,” she raged at him.

He couldn’t see anyone, but he knew there were likely a dozen or more pairs of eyes on them at the moment. Everyone in Santa Biago knew of the Orsinos and what they truly were. There weren’t any secrets. Especially how much she hated him.

He met her eyes after surveying the quiet walls around them. “The gossips will make plenty of hay about this for weeks,” he grinned.

She held up her hands and they looked like claws… they were claws.

And he wanted to wear her mark the same way she wore his.

“Just go home, Uberto. We can handle this… without you.”

He shook his head, a resolute shake that had her growling from deep in her throat.

Uberto took a step forward and then another one when she didn’t eviscerate him for the insult. “Emiliana, you are, and always have been, a magnificent creature, but the Orsinos always have a representative at the meeting.”

“Why you?” Instead of angry, she sounded confused and almost lost. Not that he’d say that since he liked his parts where they were. “Since you left, it’s always been Salvatore. And last year, it was Valerio. Why did it have to be you? Now?”

He didn’t have anything left but the truth. “Salvatore is busy, his cub is young, and he has his hands full as the head of our security firm in New York. Valerio’s mate is heavy with their cub.” He swallowed and steadied his breath. “And even if Salvatore hadn’t asked me to come, I would have wanted to be here. Because you’re my mate, Ana. You’re the center of my soul. I let you send me away once before. That was my mistake.”

“You? The ‘Great’ Uberto Orsino admit to making a mistake?”

His growl silenced her for a moment and he wasn’t going to squander it. “You wear my mark, and you matter to me. You and this valley matter to me. And this meeting is one of our responsibilities.”

“Our?” she questioned with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

He shook his head again. “No. Yes,” he corrected, “since you’re one of us.”

Jet lag. That’s what he told himself. Jet lag was the reason he didn’t see the left hook she leveled at his jaw… and the reason he was on the ground, those ridiculous cobble stones likely bruising his hip and shoulder.

She stood over him for a moment, those incredible heels making her legs look like his personal erotic dream. “Who are you? I told you to stay away from me, ‘Berto, and I mean it. Take this as my invitation to go back to New York. If you’re still here tomorrow, I’m going to take your nose and tear it off, before I stuff it down your throat.”

She stomped away in a huff. Those heels, those legs, that luscious behind.

He may have been born in a town named for a saint, but the insatiable thirst he felt for her rode him like a demon. As he was most certainly in hell.

And he loved every damn minute of it.