Serafina
Serafina Moretti followed Lucien De Rossi through the narrow, winding streets of Venice, her heels clicking softly against stone worn smooth by centuries. The city was alive in ways outsiders could never notice whispering shadows, water that seemed to curl around the buildings like protective arms, and the faint pulse of magic beneath the stones.
Lucien moved with effortless grace, black coat brushing the tops of his boots, eyes scanning every shadow as though he knew what threats lurked where she did not. She couldn't help but notice how he seemed to belong to the city itself as though Venice breathed through him, and he through it.
This way, he said, voice low, guiding her down a side alley shrouded in mist. The place I've prepared… it's safer than anywhere else you might find tonight.
She wanted to ask why he didn't simply lead her to a hotel, but something in the curve of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze, silenced her. She trusted him, though she did not understand why.
The building he brought her to was small, almost hidden, its dark stone covered in climbing ivy that glimmered silver under the moonlight. It had an air of quiet power, like a watchful guardian. The wooden door creaked as Lucien opened it, revealing a warm interior lit by candlelight. The smell of old wood, parchment, and faint incense drifted out, wrapping around her like a protective shroud.
"This is…" she began, but he shook his head.
"Do not speak," Lucien said softly. "Not yet. Listen."
Her ears tuned instinctively. At first, all she heard was the quiet drip of water somewhere below the foundations. Then she noticed it—the house itself seemed to breathe. A subtle vibration, like the thrum of an invisible heartbeat, ran through the floorboards.
You feel it, don't you?" he whispered, moving behind her. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of heat and something darkly magnetic. She felt it against the nape of her neck, against her shoulder, as though his body were pressing into hers even without touching.
"I… I feel something, she admitted.
"Good, he said, voice low and dangerous. "Venice is not kind to the unprepared. This house protects us—for now.
The candlelight flickered across his sharp features, highlighting the curve of his lips and the intensity in his eyes. She swallowed, aware of how close they were. He smelled of cedarwood and something she couldn't name, a scent that burned into memory.
I shouldn't be here, she whispered, though she knew she was lying. Every fiber of her being wanted exactly what she was denying.
No, Lucien said, moving closer, you should. This city has been waiting for you… and so have I.
The words settled over her like a promise and a threat at once. Her pulse jumped—not from fear, not entirely—but from a tension that coiled in her stomach, tightening with every heartbeat.
"I don't understand, she admitted, her voice trembling. "Why me? Why now?
His hand brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, and she froze. The touch was light, fleeting, but it left her skin tingling in places she hadn't known could feel. He leaned slightly closer, the warmth from his body brushing hers.
Because some things cannot wait," he said, and Because some destinies cannot be ignored.
The candles flickered violently, casting dancing shadows against the walls. The room seemed to hum, and a chill passed over her, though Lucien's nearness made it impossible to tell if it was the magic of the house or him.
What happens next? she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Lucien's lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. Now… we wait. And we prepare. The city has eyes, Serafina, It watches and it will judge us both.
She glanced around, feeling the weight of unseen eyes, the pulse of centuries pressing down. And then she realized something terrifying.
Not all of Venice was outside. Some of it… was inside.
And some of it wanted her—wanted them—to fail.
Lucien's hand brushed hers as he handed her a small black key, Keep this,You will need it more than you know.
Her fingers closed around it, the metal cold but humming faintly, alive with power. Her pulse quickened, and her stomach twisted with a delicious, dangerous thrill.
Lucien… she said, looking up at him.
"Yes?"
I'm afraid.
His gaze softened, just enough to break through the tension without fully surrendering to it. "Good," he whispered. "Fear keeps you alive. Desire… keeps you here."
The night pressed closer. Outside, Venice slept—or at least pretended to. Inside, in the house that watched, two hearts beat a dangerous rhythm, drawing them together as surely as the moon pulled the tides.
And somewhere, in the canals beyond the city, something ancient stirred, waiting for the hour when the girl who had returned would finally claim her place.