**ENGLAND - THREE MONTHS LATER**
Marie woke gasping, tangled in sweat-damp sheets.
The dream had been vivid. Too vivid. Lorenzo's hands on her waist, strong and sure. Lorenzo's mouth on her throat, teeth grazing skin. That low voice murmuring things in Italian that she didn't understand but felt in her bones. In the dream, she'd arched into it. Begged for more. Let Lorenzo's virility break into sweet spots no one had ever touched her before. Places she wouldn't dare exploring but had become aware of the night they almost did it in the garden.
Marie pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, heart hammering against her ribs. A strange wetness between her thighs. It had been three months. Three months since Lorenzo left. The dreams hadn't stopped. If anything, they'd grown more intense, more explicit, more *real*.
She felt guilty.
William had been nothing but kind.
They'd been spending more and more time together, talking about philosophy and literature, laughing at terrible court poetry, building something gentle and safe.
But at night, she still dreamed of that winter-blue eyed liar. Marie threw off the covers, went to her window. Dawn was breaking, pink and gold. She wondered if Lorenzo was watching the same sunrise. If he thought of her at all. Or if he'd already forgotten, moved on to someone worthy of a prince's attention. The thought hurt more than it should.
---
Later that day, William found her in the garden where she'd been sitting for an hour, staring at nothing.
"You look troubled," William observed, settling beside her on the bench without invitation. It should have annoyed her. It didn't. "Just thinking." "About?" She almost said "Lorenzo". Almost confessed everything, the garden, the kiss, the way Lorenzo had looked at her like she was something precious.
Instead she simply said: "About how strange life is. How quickly things change."
William smiled softly. "Not all change is bad, Marie."
He reached for her hand. She let him take it. His touch was warm. Comfortable. Safe. Nothing like the electric shock of Lorenzo's skin against hers. Nothing like the feeling of drowning in deep water.
Safe was good. Safe was what she needed. "Marie," William said gently, "I know you've been hurt. I don't know by whom or how, but I see it in your eyes sometimes. That distance. Like you're somewhere else." Marie felt her throat close.
He was too perceptive. Too kind.
"I'm not asking you to forget," William continued. "Whatever happened, whoever he was...I'm not asking you to pretend it didn't matter." He squeezed her hand gently.
"I'm just asking... could you make room for something new? Something gentle? Something that won't leave you staring at nothing while the world goes by?" Marie felt tears prick her eyes.
"I could try," she whispered. William smiled, genuine, hopeful, careful.
Then slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft. Careful. Sweet. She felt... nothing. No fire. No overwhelming need to get closer, to fall into him, to lose herself completely. But maybe that was better. Maybe safe was what she needed. Maybe passion burned too hot and left nothing but ash.
So she kissed him back, closing her eyes, and pretended the tears on her cheeks were happiness. Pretended she didn't feel like she was betraying something sacred. Pretended this was enough.
**ITALY - THE RUINS - SIX MONTHS AFTER LORENZO'S DEPARTURE**
"Again," Marcello commanded, voice hard.
Lorenzo was chained to the stone wall, silver burning against her wrists like brands. Her skin had gone deathly pale, almost translucent. Her eyes were crimson, glowing faintly in the darkness.
Fangs extended past her lips, sharp and wrong. The transformation had taken her an hour ago.
This time, Marcello had been ready with the chains. This time, they were trying something different.
"Come back,"he said firmly, circling her like a trainer with a wild animal. "You control this. Not the other way around."Lorenzo snarled, thrashing against the chains.
The beast inside her howled for blood. For flesh. For— *Marie. Marie. Marie.*
That single thought, that name, cut through the red haze like a knife.
Lorenzo's eyes flickered. Red to blue. Back to red. Blue again. Her breathing was ragged, but slower. More deliberate. Controlled.
"That's it,"Marcello encouraged, watching carefully. "Hold onto her. Use her as your anchor." The red faded, degree by degree.
Lorenzo's fangs retracted with a painful clicking sound. Her skin warmed, color returning like blood flowing back to frozen limbs.
But this time, this time she didn't collapse. Didn't lose consciousness. Didn't slip into that blank, exhausted state. She stood there, fully aware, fully present, chains still binding her wrists.
"I did it," she whispered, awed and terrified. "I came back. While awake."
Marcello approached carefully, studying her eyes. Blue. Clear. Focused. Human. "How do you feel?"
"Hungry."Lorenzo's voice was hoarse, raw. "But... aware. In control. I can feel the curse, but it's not controlling me."
Marcello released the chains slowly, ready to re-bind her if the red flared again. Lorenzo rubbed her wrists, studying her own hands like they belonged to someone else. The burn marks were already fading.
"Do it again,"Marcello said.
"What?"
"Call it forth. See if you can transform at will. Consciously." Lorenzo hesitated, fear flickering across her face.
"What if I can't come back?"
"You will. You have an anchor now." Marcello's voice gentled.
Lorenzo closed her eyes. She didn't think of the gentle memories, Marie laughing in the library, Marie's hand in hers, Marie's sweet smile. She thought of the painful ones. Marie with another man. Marie being courted, touched, kissed by someone else. Marie in a wedding dress walking toward someone who wasn't her. Marie in bed, giving away what should have been Lorenzo's, making those sounds for someone else.
The transformation rippled through her like lightning striking flesh. Her eyes blazed red. Fangs extended. Power flooded her limbs, intoxicating and terrifying.
But her mind remained clear. Sharp. Aware.
She wasn't lost in the hunger.
She was riding it like a wild horse, dangerous but controlled.
"Incredible," Marcello breathed, circling her carefully. "You're conscious. Fully conscious.How does it feel?"
Lorenzo looked at her hands, stronger, faster, deadlier. She could hear Marcello's heartbeat from ten feet away. Could smell the trace of blood on his breath from where he'd bitten his cheek.
"Powerful," she admitted. "Like I could tear through stone. But I'm still me. Still thinking."
"Can you change back?"Lorenzo focused not on pain this time, but on control. On choosing her form rather than being chosen by the curse. It was harder than the transformation. The beast didn't want to be caged again. But she pulled it back, inch by inch, wrestling it into submission.
Blue eyes. Normal skin. Human teeth. She swayed, exhausted but triumphant.
"How many times can you do it?"Marcello asked, professional curiosity warring with concern. "I don't know. Three? Four? More than that and I might not come back."
Lorenzo met his gaze. "But I can control it now. The curse doesn't own me anymore."
"Is it fair to assume that your connection to her is helping? ." Marcello said scratching the back of his head
Lorenzo nodded slowly. "Because of her. She's my anch..." She trailed off, unable to finish.
Marcello smiled, pride and sadness mixing on his weathered face. "Your reason to fight the monster." "Yes." "Then perhaps," Marcello said quietly, "we were wrong to ask her to forget you"