Alessio moved toward Scarlett like a man seeing a ghost, which was ironic considering she'd been exactly that a week ago. His hand reached for her face with a tenderness that almost made her hesitate. Almost.

"You're real." His voice was barely a whisper. "Tell me you're real."

"I'm real." She let him touch her. Let his fingers trace her jawline, her neck, her collarbone. Checking. Confirming.

He inhaled deeply. Closed his eyes like he was savoring something precious.

"Your scent. It's impossible. I thought..." He opened his eyes. "I thought I'd never..."

He trailed off. Unable or unwilling to finish the sentence.

Scarlett felt her power humming beneath her skin. Released it slowly. Carefully. Like opening a valve.

The air shimmered. She watched Alessio's pupils dilate. Watched his breathing quicken. Watched him lean closer like he couldn't help himself.

"You came back to me." Not a question. A statement filled with hope.

She smiled. Mysterious. Seductive. "I couldn't stay away."

His relief was palpable. Painful to witness. Like she'd given him something he'd been dying without.

"I tried." His hand moved to cup her face. "Tried to convince myself it was just the blood. Just the high priestess bloodline calling to me."

"And?" She tilted her head. Let her hair fall over one shoulder.

"And I was lying to myself." His thumb traced her bottom lip. "It was never just the blood."

---

Scarlett initiated the next move. Pressed her body against his. Let her power amplify every point of contact.

Alessio responded immediately. His hands roamed her body possessively. Desperate. Hungry. Like he was trying to memorize her through touch alone.

"Three weeks," he murmured against her neck. "Three weeks I stayed away."

"Why?"

His hands moved to her waist. Pulled her closer. "Tried to forget you. Couldn't."

Their chemistry was explosive. Undeniable. Even without her power, they burned together.

Clothes began coming off. His jacket. Her dress. His shirt. Her heels.

Each piece removed felt like peeling away armor. Exposing something vulnerable underneath.

Alessio lifted her easily. Carried her to the massive bed. Laid her down on silk sheets like she was something precious.

"Mine." The word was a growl against her neck. "You're mine now."

His hands were everywhere. Learning her. Worshipping her. Making her forget why she was here.

Scarlett's internal conflict raged. This felt too real. Too genuine. Like it wasn't just her power making him want her.

---

Their lovemaking was intense. Primal. Nothing gentle about it this time.

Alessio worshiped her body like a man starved. His mouth traced every curve. His hands memorized every response. He learned what made her gasp. What made her arch. What made her forget her own name.

Multiple positions. Desperate connection. Like they were both trying to prove something. Like they were both trying to crawl inside each other's skin.

Scarlett's body responded despite her mission. Despite her hatred. Despite everything she knew she should be feeling.

She hated how good it felt. Hated that she wanted this. Hated that some part of her had missed him.

His mouth found her breast. Tongue circling. Teeth grazing. She arched into him with a gasp that wasn't fake.

"That's it." His voice was rough. "Don't hold back."

He moved lower. Kissed down her stomach. Her hip bones. The inside of her thighs.

When his mouth found her center, she cried out. Her hands fisted in his hair.

He took his time. Learning her. Tasting her. Making her writhe beneath him.

She came undone with a cry that echoed off the walls. Pleasure crashing through her in waves.

He moved back up her body. Positioned himself at her entrance.

"Never leave me again." His voice was raw. Vulnerable in a way she'd never heard before.

The words almost broke her.

He pushed inside. Slow and deep. Filling her completely.

They moved together. Perfect rhythm. Perfect connection. Like their bodies had been designed for this exact purpose.

Scarlett felt herself building again. That familiar pressure coiling tighter. Tighter.

"Alessio." His name escaped her lips. Not planned. Not part of the seduction. Just genuine reaction.

"That's it." His pace increased. "Say my name."

They climaxed together. Simultaneous and overwhelming. His fangs descended and he bit her neck gently as he finished inside her.

Her blood flooded his system. That familiar euphoria crashed through him. That warmth. That feeling of being alive.

He pulled back. Licked the wounds closed. Then held her close. Both breathless and trembling.

For a moment, wrapped in his arms, Scarlett almost forgot.

Almost.

---

They lay tangled together on blood-stained sheets. Alessio's guard completely down. His eyes closed. Savoring the afterglow.

"I've never felt this with anyone," he murmured. "In four hundred years. Never."

Each word was a knife in her gut.

His breathing was deep. Even. Content.

This was the moment.

Scarlett's hand inched toward her discarded clothes. The red dress pooled on the floor beside the bed. The thigh holster still attached.

Her fingers found the leather. Found the silver dagger hidden inside.

Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he'd hear it. But his breathing remained deep. Relaxed. Vulnerable.

She gripped the silver handle. Pulled it free slowly. Carefully.

The blade gleamed in the low light. Pure silver. Blessed and cursed. Designed to kill immortals.

She thought of Marco dying in her arms. His last words. His fear.

This was for him. For Annabelle. For everyone Alessio had killed over four centuries.

She raised the blade high. Positioned it directly over his heart.

"For Marco," she hissed through tears she didn't realize she was crying.

Then drove it down with all her strength.

---

The blade sank deep into Alessio's chest. Straight through skin and muscle. Piercing his heart.

Blood bloomed around the silver. Dark and thick. Soaking into the sheets beneath them.

His eyes snapped open. Shock. Betrayal. Pain.

All of it aimed at her.

"Scarlett?" Her real name. He'd never used it before. "What..."

She pushed harder. Trying to drive the blade deeper. Trying to finish it.

"Stay down. Just die. Please just die."

But his hand caught her wrist. Stopped her from pushing further.

His grip was iron. Unbreakable.

And instead of weakening, instead of dying, he smiled.

That cold, predatory smile from the first night at the club. The monster she'd seen drain Maria.

"Did you really think that would work?"

Terror flooded her veins like ice water. "No. No, Vivian said..."

"Vivian?" His expression darkened. "Vivian Cross sent you?"

Impossibly, he sat up. The dagger still buried in his chest. Blood pouring from the wound.

Scarlett scrambled backward. Her hands slipping in the blood-soaked sheets.

"How are you not dead?"

"Because I'm four hundred years old, darling." He reached up. Gripped the silver handle. "And it takes more than a blessed knife to kill me."

He pulled the blade out slowly. Blood poured from the wound. She watched in horror as it began to close. Flesh knitting itself back together. Muscle reforming. Skin sealing.

Within seconds, there was nothing. No wound. No scar. Just his perfect chest covered in drying blood.

"Now." His voice went deadly calm. The kind of calm that promised violence. "Why don't you tell me what really brought you back from the dead?"

Scarlett scrambled backward on the blood-soaked sheets, watching in horror as Alessio's chest healed completely. Her one chance at revenge had failed, and the look in his eyes promised that whatever came next would be far worse than death.

---