Volterra Italy Twilight Novels & Stories

The sheer primitive need she was controlled by was closer to agony than ecstasy. “You’re mine... from this moment on,” Christophe spelled out roughly. “Tu es à moi… (French for ‘you are mine’) Lara collided with glittering dark eyes, unreadable in the moonlight, and her mouth ran suddenly dry, a shaft of returning sanity tightening her every muscle in rejection. But his hand slid over her quivering body, shattering her with her own response.

He put his arm around my body, pulling me against him, setting off calm and sparks throughout my body. The waiter brought out bread for us. Then a different waiter came out with a charcuterie board. He placed it in front of us and said, “Compliments of the chef. Here we have some parmesan flown in from Italy this morning, aged twenty-four months, our most popular imported salami, prosciutto di San Daniele, and our house-made mozzarella.” He pointed out each item as he spoke. After our main course was served, a tall man dressed in a suit came over to our table. As soon as I inhaled his scent, I instantly recognized that he was a werewolf from our neighboring pack that owned the pharmaceutical

Her father was holding the crown that Veronica will wear. The two of then reached the top and Lilith had to let go Veronica and let her walk on her own. Veronica then sat on the new throne made out of black diamond. The supreme dark-priest stood by her side and took the crown from Hikaris who has a wide smile on his lips. “Will you, Veronica Lorraine Glaiza Elizabeth Vane, take this crown of glory, and wield it with valor and might, through all the days of your reign?” The supreme dark-priest asked.

I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the back of his neck—a serpent swallowing its own tail. Nikolai stopped suddenly near a collapsed stone wall. “He’s gone.” “No.” I pointed down. A small card lay there, dropped in a hurry. Nikolai picked it up, flipped it over. “Villa Ombra. Syracuse. Ask for Father Marzio.” I let out a breath. “A priest?” “Or someone pretending to be one.” “Why would Luca leave that? Unless…” “Unless that’s where he went.” I nodded. “Then let’s follow the next shadow.”

Not long after I left Dawson Corporation, Shane Dawson sent me an address and a photo of our wedding venue: a Spanish castle named Castillo de Sol. The picture showed the castle’s facade consisting of ivory limestone walls and a blazing golden dome, luxury carved into every line. Right in the center of the shot stood Tania Collins, her curls tumbling over her shoulders, a crimson gown hugging her figure. My fingers hovered over her radiant smile for two long seconds. The absurdity sank in like ice.

"I want your fire. I want you to fight me, hate me, and still burn for me." His hand slid to her hip, pulling her against his arousal. "Tonight. After the docks. I'm going to show you exactly how much I appreciate having a real partner." Vincent cleared his throat. "Boss, the Colombians are waiting." Felix straightened his tie, instantly composed. But his eyes still burned when he looked at her. "Ready for the real test, Mrs. Castelli?" The docks at midnight were shrouded in fog. Their convoy arrived in three black SUVs,enough firepower to start a war.

I whispered. Valerio turned to me slowly. His face was hard, but something flickered behind his eyes. Calculation. Anger. And something else I did not want to name. “Yes,” he said. “And they want you to panic.” The corridor ended at a wide circular chamber. In the center stood a glass table lit from beneath, holographic maps hovering above it. Italy. Milan highlighted in red. Several smaller markers blinked around it like warning signs. Valerio released my hand and stepped toward the table. He swiped the air and the map shifted, zooming in.

“We’re taking back what was stolen. You’ll live to see it.” His trembling hand closed over hers. “Win, and live.” She kissed his forehead, then turned and left, each click of her stilettos on the marble a promise. Outside, Massimo waited beside the helicopter. His expression unreadable behind black sunglasses, but his presence, like always, radiated strength. She climbed in beside him. The blades roared to life. The sun dipped low, a dying ember over the Tuscan hills. It was almost nightfall. Donatello’s Villa – Tuscany Outskirts – Nightfall

A black-and-gold monster of a house sitting on the edge of the world. Carved into the rock like a fortress built for gods. Vittorio leaned close. His lips brushed my ear. Velmorra. A fortress surrounded by cliffs and the sea. Black water. Silver towers. Danger bleeding from the ground like heat from hell. Valentino grinned. “Welcome to The Warden’s Mercy.” Vittorio looked at me, mouth at my ear. “This is where we break you, bambina.” And I wasn’t afraid. I was ready.

“With a face like that? Honey, we’ll call you. Franco, get his number!” ***** Half a world away, in a skyscraper of glass and steel in Milan, Lorenzo Volterra was bored. The board meeting droned on, a symphony of numbers and sycophants. He tuned it out, his fingers swiping absently on his tablet. He’d switched his VPN to the States, idly scrolling through local ad feeds…a strange habit he had. A window into other worlds. A grainy, low-budget video auto-played. Éclat Perdu.