Chapter 5

The reception ended in a blur of congratulations and champagne toasts, but Serena barely registered any of it. That voice echoed in her head, familiar and impossible.

When the last guest left, she followed Dante to the master bedroom in silence. Her heart hammered against her ribs as he loosened his tie and poured himself a drink from the bar cart.

"Enjoying your wedding night, Mrs. Valentino?" he asked without turning around.

"Take it off."

"The tie? I was getting to that."

"The mask." Her voice was stronger than she felt. "Take off the mask."

His hands stilled on the crystal decanter. "Serena—"

"Now. I want to see your face."

"Some things are better left hidden."

"Not this." She moved closer, her silk train whispering across the marble. "I know that voice."

He turned slowly, setting down his glass. Even across the room, she could feel the tension radiating from him.

"Do you?"

"Say my name again."

"Serena."

"No." Her voice cracked. "Say it the way you used to. In the library. In your dorm room. In the back of your car when you thought we had forever."

The silence stretched between them like a taut wire.

"Take off the mask, Danny."

The nickname hung in the air like a gunshot. He went completely still.

"That's not my name anymore."

"Isn't it?" Tears burned her eyes. "Daniel Valentino. Art history major. The boy who used to read me poetry and bring me coffee during finals week. The boy who died in a car accident seven years ago."

"That boy did die." His voice was rough, raw. "What's left is something much darker."

"Prove it." She stepped closer, close enough to touch him. "Show me."

For a moment, she thought he'd refuse. Then his hands moved to the mask, fingers working at the hidden clasps.

"You want to see what seven years of hell looks like?" he asked softly. "What happens when someone you love betrays you?"

The mask fell away.

Serena's world shattered.

The face looking back at her was older, harder, marked by a vicious scar that ran from his left temple to his jaw. But it was him. It was Danny. Her Danny, who used to trace her spine with his fingertips and whisper that he'd love her forever.

"Hello, Serena."

A sob tore from her throat. "You're supposed to be dead."

"I was. For about three minutes on an operating table in Philadelphia." His fingers traced the scar. "Your husband's friends were very thorough."

"Marcus did this?" The words came out as a whisper.

"Marcus ordered it." Danny moved closer, and she could see the pain in his eyes. "Three days before our wedding. Remember? The car accident that killed the poor college boy who thought he could marry above his station?"

"No." She backed away, shaking her head. "No, Marcus wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't he?" Danny's laugh was bitter. "He wanted you, and I was in the way. So he had me removed."

"But the funeral—"

"Closed casket. Very tragic. Your grieving was so beautiful, by the way. I watched from the back row."

"You were there?" Her voice broke completely.

"I've been watching you for seven years, Serena. Waiting. Planning. Getting strong enough to take back what was stolen from me."

The words hit her like physical blows. "That's what this is? Revenge?"

"Justice." He backed her against the windows, his hands bracing on either side of her head. "He took everything from me. My life, my identity, my future." His eyes burned into hers. "My wife."

"I wasn't your wife! We were engaged, but—"

"In every way that mattered, you were mine." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You gave me your body, your heart, your soul. Did that mean nothing?"

"It meant everything!" The confession tore from her throat. "It meant everything, and when you died, I wanted to die too!"

"But you didn't." His thumb traced her cheek, wiping away tears she didn't realize she was crying. "You married him six months later."

"Because I was lost! Because I was broken! Because he promised to take care of me when I couldn't take care of myself!"

"And how did that work out?" His voice was gentle, but his eyes were hard. "Did he take care of you, Serena? Did he love you the way you deserved?"

"Stop." She pushed against his chest, but he didn't move. "Just stop."

"Did he make you feel the way I made you feel?" His forehead touched hers. "Did he worship your body? Did he make you scream his name?"

"Danny, please—"

"It's Dante now. Danny died in that car crash. What's left is the Shadowking." His lips brushed her ear. "But for you, I could be Danny again."

"You lied to me!" Her hands fisted in his shirt. "You let me think you were dead! Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

"Do you have any idea what it did to me?" His control cracked, and suddenly she was against the wall, his body pinning her there. "To watch the woman I loved marry my attempted murderer? To see you smile for the cameras while my heart was ripped out of my chest?"

"I mourned you!" She hit his chest with her fists. "I mourned you every single day!"

"Did you mourn me in his bed?" His voice was dangerous now, dark and possessive. "Did you think of me when he touched you?"

"Yes!" The admission exploded from her. "Yes, I thought of you! Every time, every touch, every kiss! I closed my eyes and pretended it was you!"

Something fierce and primitive flashed in his eyes. "Good."

"Good?" She stared at him in shock. "How is that good?"

"Because it means you're still mine." His hands cupped her face. "It means seven years didn't kill what we had."

"What we had was built on lies!"

"What lies? I loved you. You loved me. That was the only truth that mattered."

"But you're not the same person—"

"Neither are you." His thumb traced her lower lip. "You're stronger now. Harder. More beautiful." His voice dropped. "More mine."

"I can't do this." Tears streamed down her face. "I can't handle this."

"You can handle anything. You're the strongest woman I've ever known." He kissed her forehead gently. "I've waited seven years to take back what was mine. I can wait a little longer for you to remember that you want to be taken."

"Stop saying I'm yours!"

"You are mine." His voice was absolute certainty. "You've always been mine. From the moment we met in that library, you belonged to me."

"People don't belong to other people!"

"We do." His lips were inches from hers. "We belong to each other. We always have."

The truth of it hit her like a wave. Even through her anger, her confusion, her heartbreak, she could feel it. The pull between them was just as strong as it had ever been.

"I hate you," she whispered.

"No, you don't." His lips brushed hers, soft as silk. "You hate that you still love me."

The kiss that followed was desperate, angry, full of seven years of pain and longing. She kissed him back with everything she had, pouring all her rage and love and heartbreak into it.

When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard.

"I've missed you," he whispered against her lips. "God, Serena, I've missed you so much it was killing me."

"I thought you were dead." Her voice broke. "I thought you were dead, and I had to live with that."

"I'm here now." His hands tangled in her hair. "I'm here, and I'm never leaving you again."

"You can't just decide that!"

"Watch me." His eyes burned into hers. "I've spent seven years becoming powerful enough to protect you. No one will ever hurt you again."

"What about what you're doing to me right now?" She pushed against his chest. "What about the pain you're causing me?"

"Short-term pain for long-term happiness." His grip loosened slightly. "You'll understand eventually."

"Will I?" She stared at him, this stranger who wore her dead lover's face. "Will I understand why you bought me like a piece of property? Will I understand why you forced me into marriage? Will I understand why you let me suffer for seven years?"

"Yes." His voice was soft but certain. "Because you'll realize that everything I did, every move I made, was to get back to you."

"Even if that's true—" She took a shaky breath. "Even if that's true, I can't just pretend the last seven years didn't happen."

"I'm not asking you to pretend. I'm asking you to trust me." He stepped back, giving her space to breathe. "To trust that what we had was real, and what we could have is worth fighting for."

Serena stared at him for a long moment. The face she'd loved, scarred now but still beautiful. The eyes that used to look at her like she was his whole world.

"There's something you need to know," she said quietly.

"What?"

She closed her eyes, gathering her courage. When she opened them, his face was soft with concern.

"I can't do this. I can't be what you need me to be."

"Serena—"

"I can't because..." Her voice cracked. "I can't because I'm pregnant. Three months pregnant."

The words fell into the silence like stones into still water.

Danny went completely still. The color drained from his face.

"Pregnant," he repeated slowly.

"Yes."

For a moment, she thought he might walk away. Might finally release her from this impossible situation.

Then his eyes went completely black, and when he spoke, his voice was deadly calm.

"Then I'll raise Marcus's bastard as my own. After I destroy him."