The first thing Elena felt was heat—like fire, not from flames, but from touch. Her body responded before her mind even woke. She stirred, consciousness slowly catching up, and then she heard it—his voice. Low. Rumbling. Dangerous.

“Wake up, my queen.”

Alessandro.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she was greeted by the sight of him, shirtless, scars on full display, as if daring her to look away. His black ink tattoos looked almost ceremonial under the morning light filtering through the silk curtains.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

He bent forward and brushed his lips across her jaw. “You said you wanted to know what it means to...