What remained of Hadrian's once pompous villa stretched in all directions. "Where the hell am I?" Gia groused, turning the travel guide upside down in hopes of ascertaining some semblance of direction. To the left and right stretched rows upon rows of ancient olive trees, gnarled and aromatic in the afternoon sun. There were no signs, only half-excavated fragments of Roman walls. Gia threw her hands up, exasperated. "Great, that is just great, Gia!"

Mustering the courage to travel to Italy had been a phenomenal leap of self-confidence but as Gia squinted up at the beaming sun she felt a sudden pang of fear. She was all alone in some distant part of the ruins in the midst of an olive grove with not a single soul in sight. In fact, had she paid closer attention to the lecture about Hadrian, instead of staring at her Roman tour guide's gorgeous lips, she would undoubtedly be more enthusiastic about her current predicament.

Gia was used to the bustle and noise of the city that never slept, not the tranquility of the sprawling countryside. Dotted with ancient ruined palaces, long toppled by hubris and time, the vast olive groves surrounding Tivoli were quiet to a fault. Only the chirping sounds of cicadas and the rustling of the breeze could be heard.

The place was peaceful and she should have felt at ease but the air of decadence that lingered in the grounds unnerved her. It was as if the blood of the slaves that built Hadrian's playground had somehow seeped into the earth, calling her from some unknown place.

Gia loosened the ponytail that held her waist-long hair. Sweat clung to her t-shirt and dripped down her back. Her sandals were caked with the reddish dirt up to her ankles, making her feel even grimier. They were definitely the wrong shoes for exploring the winding dirt paths in the ninety-degree heat.

"It's fine, Gia," she told herself, uncapping a water bottle. "You live in New York City, girl, just breathe." The water was still cool from the last fountain she had refilled at. Gia could have sworn she had been at the ruined baths not ten minutes ago, but couldn't remember which way they were. She had walked in a daze straight into an olive grove, one of many along the three-hundred-acre park.

Don't panic, she thought, recapping the bottle and shoving it back in her bag. "You can do anything, even come to Rome and not have a single guy pinch your ass."

It was late June and the olives were the size of peas. Wiping her forehead with her forearm, Gia stared in awe at the ancient branches. It was always her nature to make the best of terrible situations. There were far worse things in life than being lost in the glory of the Italian countryside, four thousand miles away from her troubles.

Squinting, Gia leaned against the trunk of a tree and checked the time. It was nearly two and already the restaurants would be closing. If she rushed she might find a bar or pizzeria nearby that remained open through siesta but the prospect was daunting. She didn't know the area and with her luck she'd be served whole squids complete with eyes. The thought made her stomach churn. Survivor appetizers were off the menu for the rest of the trip.

Skipping breakfast had not been the brightest idea but neither was coming halfway across the world alone. Gia liked to think that she was being daring and adventurous and that somehow coming to Italy in search of her heritage would change her life but so far she had only felt the intensity of her loneliness.

"Where am I going anyway? What's the hurry?" she said, slinging her backpack down at the base of a gnarled tree. Not like anyone will miss you, she thought somewhat sadly as she took a seat, stretching her legs upon the grass. Gia rummaged through the contents of her backpack and found the sealed pack of trail mix. She had food and water and she was in a beautiful place. It was more than she could say for her spartan apartment back home where she was crammed in with three annoying roommates, two of whom were drama queens constantly at each other's throats.

The sun filtered through the minty green of the grove casting long, diagonal shadows across the wild flowers. A few dots of flaming red poppies intermingled with the purple of dandelion and yellow daisies. It was a pastoral scene worthy of a painting.

Gia sighed, leaning back against the trunk of the tree, chewing the dried raisins and apricots interspersed with salty peanuts. A gentle, cooling breeze rustled the leaves and brought respite from the ferocious heat of the sun. Having had her fill, Gia folded up the bag of trail mix and fanned herself with the guide book. Apparently it was the only thing it was good for. The effort only made her hotter and soon enough she discarded the idea. She tossed it atop her bag and slid out of her sweaty t-shirt, remaining in her undershirt–a silky black lacy thing that could barely pass for a garment.

There was something about expensive, satiny lingerie that made her feel special. Gia skimped on a lot of luxuries and saved her money but it was difficult to resist designer perfumes and undergarments. The idea of wearing something wonderfully ornate and seductive underneath the armor of the corporate suit thrilled her. Most women bought such things for the men in their lives but Gia had long since lost hope of showcasing her vast arsenal of seductive lingerie to the male of the species.

Bunching up the t-shirt into a pillow, Gia rested her head against the tree, allowing herself to shed the sense of fear and embrace her beautiful surroundings. She was about to make good on her vow to slow down and savor the remainder of her stay. She watched idly as the clouds rolled overhead, scattering patches of shadows amidst the grove. Sparrows frolicked, fluttering between the trees, darting to and fro.

The tranquility of the desolate spot and the refreshing breeze lulled her senses. Sleep came slowly, creeping into lids made heavy by the noon-day sun. Within minutes, Gia succumbed to her exhaustion, nodding off peacefully at the base of the tree.

Oviello the Keeper grinned, watching the girl from a distance, emerald eyes roaming along her sunlit curves. He had trailed her for over an hour as she wandered the ruins, waiting for the right opportunity to lure her closer to the veil that obscured his kind from humanity. Oviello knew the dangers of such a breach, knew full well the risks involved in joining with a mortal but, like the rest of his ilk, he was prone to throw caution to the wind.

Slowly, he approached the slumbering girl, his cloven steps silent. He moved with the dexterity of a predator, his muscles rippling beneath sun-bronzed skin. Oviello knelt beside her, his long, black braids streaming forward to tickle her upper arms. He lowered his face to hers and paused, his mouth inches from parted lips. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled hers, fully drinking in the scent of her skin–lavender and rose, sweat, desire. She was salty and spicy, aroused by the wicked dreams he weaved for her.

This chapter marks the end of the Wattpad sample. 

As you may have guessed, this story is transgressive erotica and gets very naughty from here on in. 

To read the rest, please purchase The Olive Grove on Amazon using the link below. 

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-Narcisse Navarre