Chapter eight: The fire beneath the ice

The plane was waiting, but Serena wasn’t ready to leave.

Not yet.

Not until she understood what it meant to take Matteo De Luca with her—not just as her protector, or her husband in title, but as something more.

They were no longer enemies. But they weren’t allies either. Something had shifted between them but she was unsure what to make of it.

There was something between them now.

Something burning, soft and slow, eating through every boundary they’d tried to keep. It was my a matter of time before they both crossed the boundaries.

And in the hush before departure, that something finally ignited.

---

She found him on the terrace of the estate, staring out at the hills like he was trying to memorize the land before they left it. The sunset bathed him in gold and shadow, painting sharp lines across his face—every scar, every sin, exposed by the light.

That was her husband.

Serena took in every feature he had, like she was just seeing him for the first time. The initial anger she felt for him had vanished. It was replaced with something softer and gentle, she was afraid to actually accept that she might actually be falling in love with Matteo.

Serena paused at the door.

Watched him.

And remembered what it felt like when his hands were on her skin, gentle and rough all at once. She would give anything to feel what she felt again. In as much as she didn't want to admit, she wanted Matteo to hold her again.

He didn’t hear her approach—not until she stepped into the light and said, “Do you ever wish you could forget all of this?”

Matteo turned slowly to face her.

His eyes softened when he saw her.

But his voice was the same low thunder.

“I don’t forget. I survive.”

She stepped closer to him.

“And what about before the blood? Before the crown?”

He looked away, with a pained expression etched onto his face.

“There was no before.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is for me.”

She stared at him intently. “You must have loved someone once. Before me.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“I did,” he said finally. “But not like this.”

That startled her.

“Like what?”

He turned, his gaze crashing into hers.

“Like I’m afraid of it.”

---

They didn’t move or speak to each other.

The wind shifted.

The first star appeared in the sky above them.

And then, slowly, Matteo reached for her—one hand brushing her arm, then her jaw, until his thumb rested beneath her lips.

Serena’s heart hammered in her chest, she was scared that he could hear how fast it was beating.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” he said, voice low and raw. “But I told myself I couldn’t touch you. Not when I’d stolen you. Not when I was still a monster in your eyes.”

“You still are,” she whispered softly.

He smiled faintly.

“But that doesn’t stop you, does it?”

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t have to.

Because when she stepped forward and placed her hand on his chest, she felt the hammering of his heartbeat.

And when he leaned in—slow, deliberate—she didn’t pull away.

Their mouths met in the middle, and the kiss was not gentle. It was passionate, they yearned for each other.

It was a burning fire that threatened to consume them both.

---

He kissed her like he was claiming lost territory. Like he’d waited too long, suffered too much. And she let him—let him devour and worship in the same breath, their bodies pressed against stone and sunset and years of unspoken ache.

Her hands fisted in his shirt. She buried her free hand in his hair. She wanted to do that for a very long time, now here she was running her fingers through his wavy dark hair.

His mouth trailed to her throat, plastering soft kisses on her soft skin as he moved.

She gasped when he bit her there—just enough to mark her.

He whispered against her skin, “Tell me to stop.”

She didn’t.

She couldn’t bring herself to stop.

Because everything she felt—fear, fury, betrayal—drowned beneath the hunger.

She wanted him so bad.

God, she wanted him.

---

He lifted her onto the stone ledge, her legs wrapping around his waist, his hands cradling her like she was glass and fire all at once.

They didn’t rush.

They savored every inch of each other.

The restraint in him—the leash he held tight for so long—began to unravel. And she matched him move for move, kiss for kiss, breath for breath.

He was Matteo De Luca.

Feared.

Deadly.

Untouchable.

But here, with her, he was just Matteo.

A man unraveling at the altar of the only woman who’d ever seen through the iron. A man who had been yearning for her for a very long time. A man who would go to war just to protect her.

---

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, he rested his forehead against hers.

His voice was hoarse.

“This wasn’t part of the plan.”

She smiled faintly, eyes half-shut.

“I don’t care.”

He laughed—quiet and low. Like the sound surprised him.

“I’d burn the world for you,” he murmured.

She met his eyes.

“Then don’t start with me.”

---

That night, she didn’t sleep in her room.

She slept in his for the first time.

On silk sheets.

With his arms around her and her face buried in his chest. There was no where Serena would rather be

And when dawn broke across the sky, Serena Vale knew the truth.

She had crossed a line.

Fallen into the fire.

And if her mother still lived—if Geneva held the answers—then she would face them not as the girl who’d been abandoned…

…but as the woman Matteo De Luca had kissed like she was worth a war.