Little bit of imagination

A VERY SPECIAL DINNER

Felix Volturi & Demetri Volturi × human mate

The kitchen was a space of warmth and chaotic, human domesticity—a stark contrast to the sterile, cold elegance of Volterra. Felix and Demetri stood just outside the threshold, shrouded in the shifting shadows of the hallway. They had been instructed to wait, a rare concession from Aro that felt more like a test than a blessing. Their senses, however, were not restricted by such politeness.

The scent of processed, frozen vegetables and over-hydrated, starch-heavy rice wafted out to them—a culinary offense that made even the immortal Felix twitch.

Then came her voice, bright and laced with a playful, sharp wit they hadn't yet witnessed in the week they had spent orbiting her life.

"Have you two been fighting?" she asked, her tone light but pointed.

There was a pause, followed by her mother’s bewildered reply, "No."

"Because there’s no need to suffer in silence," the girl continued, her voice dancing with suppressed laughter. "If you want, I’ll call the lawyer for you… are you two divorcing?"

"No," her mother insisted, clearly baffled by the sudden inquiry.

"Ah," she sighed, a sound of genuine, amused disbelief. "That’s a shame. Because honestly, this frozen rice… the Romans wouldn't have even fed this to the prisoners."

Outside, the silence between the two Volturi guards was heavy, punctuated only by the subtle shift of leather against the wall.

Demetri, the Tracker, was the first to react. His head tilted, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his handsome features. His dark eyes - they both are wearing lens contact - gleamed with a mix of genuine amusement and something sharper. He had spent centuries watching humans act with varying degrees of tragedy and triumph, but her audacity—the casual, stinging bite of her humor directed at her own flesh and blood—was intoxicating. He leaned closer to the frame, his shoulders shaking with a silent, rhythmic laugh that reach his eyes, which remained fixed on the invisible image of her in the kitchen. She wasn't just soft, as he had initially feared; she was dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with fangs or strength. She was sharp-edged, and he found he adored the weapon she wielded with such careless ease.

Felix, by contrast, remained as still as a statue carved from mountain stone. His massive frame seemed to occupy the entire hallway, his expression unreadable, darkened by the natural gravity of his heavy brows. But there was a flicker in the depths of his gaze. While Demetri admired the wit, Felix was experiencing a more visceral reaction to her boldness. He had lived his life enforcing the cold, unyielding laws of the Volturi, where a single wrong word could lead to execution. To hear her speak to her creator—her mother—with such irreverent, biting mockery made his pulse, however dormant, seem to skip. A low, rumble of a chuckle escaped his chest, a sound like gravel grinding together. It wasn't the sound of mockery; it was the sound of a man who realized his mate was far more vibrant, and far more unpredictable, than he had ever anticipated.

"The Romans," Felix rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that only Demetri could perceive. "She is... quite singular, isn't she?"

Demetri straightened, adjusting the line of his jacket, his expression smoothing into a mask of predatory grace. "She is a firecracker, Felix. And I think we are both quite overdue for a little bit of heat."

They exchanged a look—a silent communication between two of the deadliest creatures in existence. They had been prepared for many things: for her fear, for her hesitation, or for the mundane reality of her human life. They had not been prepared for the sheer, delightful sharpness of her tongue.

Stepping forward, they broke the silence of the hallway, their presence suddenly filling the small kitchen. The air pressure seemed to drop as the two giants appeared in the doorway, their unnaturally pale skin and predatory grace casting long, intimidating shadows across the linoleum.

The girl turned, her laughter still caught in her throat, her eyes widening as they landed on the two men who, until this moment, had been nothing but shadows in her life. She looked from her mother’s mortified expression to the two faces that were currently studying her with a terrifying, absolute intensity.

"I was joking, mum" she says kissing her mother check, before picking up the bowl. "It only needs some....salt." she adds.

"They are... friends. Felix and Demetri" she says, blushing.

The transformation in her demeanor was instantaneous. The sharp, cynical judge of the kitchen had vanished, replaced by the soft, domestic daughter they had spent the last week observing. She pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to her mother’s cheek—a gesture of affection so foreign, yet so achingly human, that it made the two vampires in the doorway pause in their tracks.

Demetri, however, felt his appreciation deepen into something more possessive. His golden eyes tracked the movement of her hand as she lifted the bowl of dismal, congealed rice. He watched the way her shoulders relaxed, the way her smile reached her eyes, and he felt a phantom ache in his chest—a yearning to be the recipient of that specific, uncomplicated warmth.

"It only needs some... salt," she says, kissing her mum's check again as an apology, her voice light and musical, as if she hadn't just compared her mother’s cooking to the plight of ancient captives. "And some more cheese."

In the hallway, Demetri let out a breath he didn't need to take. A low, appreciative hum vibrated in his throat. "She is masterful, isn't she?" he murmured, his voice barely a breath, intended only for Felix. "She manipulates the mood of the room as easily as she critiques the seasoning."

Felix’s gaze remained locked on her. He found himself fascinated by her resilience, by the way she refused to let the tension of the moment linger. She wasn't afraid of her own sharp tongue, and she wasn't afraid to smooth over the ripples she created. It was a brand of confidence that he found unexpectedly refreshing.

"She is not a fragile thing, Demetri," Felix replied, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that carried an edge of newfound respect. "She is a storm disguised as a summer day."

They remained in the shadows for a heartbeat longer, two predators watching their prize. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on them; they were the most feared hunters in the world, yet here they stood, completely disarmed by a young woman, a bowl of frozen rice, and a few grains of salt.

He stepped forward, the floorboards creaking ever so slightly beneath his heavy, deliberate tread. He didn't care about the mother’s reaction or the potential for a scene. He only wanted to see how the girl would look when she realized she was being watched—and whether that sharp, witty spark would flare again when she saw them standing there, waiting for her.

The sudden heat rising to her cheeks was a shade of crimson that neither of them had seen on her before—a vivid, human reaction that felt like a secret gift. The sight of her flustered, the way her composure momentarily crumbled under their silent observation, did more than just amuse them; it triggered a protective, territorial instinct that surged through the cold veins of both vampires.

Demetri was the first to cross the threshold, his movements liquid and unnervingly graceful. He didn't look at the mother; he didn't look at the offending bowl of rice. His focus was entirely on the girl, his golden eyes burning with a mixture of amusement and a searing, possessive intensity that he made no effort to hide.

"Friends," Demetri repeated, tasting the word on his tongue. He let out a soft, melodic laugh that seemed to vibrate in the small, cramped kitchen, making the air feel suddenly thin. "I believe that is a rather modest title for us, cara."

He stopped just a few inches from her, close enough that she could feel the unnatural chill radiating from his skin. He didn't touch her—not yet—but the way he leaned in, his gaze dropping to her flushed face, made the space feel suddenly, breathlessly intimate.

Felix followed, his massive, imposing presence dwarfing the modest kitchen. He didn't speak, but his shadow seemed to stretch across the room, effectively cutting off the rest of the world. He stood behind her, a mountain of silent, lethal protection, his gaze sweeping over the mother—who seemed frozen in a state of sheer, bewildered terror—before landing back on the girl.

He didn't miss the way she clutched the bowl of rice, her knuckles white, her pulse hammering against the thin skin of her neck. He reached out, his hand—large, calloused, and cold—coming to rest briefly on her shoulder. The contact was heavy, grounding, and undeniably possessive.

"Forgive us," Felix rumbled, his deep, resonant voice vibrating through the floorboards. He offered the mother a slight, stiff inclination of his head that lacked any true warmth. "We did not mean to intrude on your culinary endeavors. But we found ourselves... captivated by the conversation."

Demetri stepped closer, his eyes dancing with wicked delight as he looked at the girl. "Yes, the critique of the salt levels was particularly enlightening. We have been traveling for quite some time, and I must confess, we have developed a sudden, desperate craving for something... exceptional."

He reached out, his fingers ghosting over her wrist as he gently took the bowl from her trembling hands and set it aside on the counter with a soft clack. He didn't look at the food; he looked only at her, his expression softening into something devastatingly handsome.

"You blush most beautifully when you are caught off guard," Demetri murmured, his voice a low, intimate caress that surely caused the mother to pale further. "But there is no need for such shyness. We have heard much worse than insults directed at frozen vegetables."

Felix leaned down, his face dangerously close to hers, his dark eyes searching her expression. "Are you going to introduce us properly, or shall we continue to stand here and let your mother wonder why we appear to have just stepped out of a period drama?"

The tension in the room is thick—the mother is clearly paralyzed by their unnatural presence, and the girl is caught between her embarrassment and the overwhelming reality of the two men now occupying her space.

The air in the kitchen seemed to vanish, replaced by the electric, predatory stillness that only two members of the Volturi guard could project.

The confession, whispered with a mixture of nervous humor and raw, human vulnerability, hit them like a physical blow. Felix, usually the stoic, immovable fortress, felt his breath hitch—a reflex of his humanity that had long ago been replaced by instinct. His hand, still resting on her shoulder, tightened almost imperceptibly, his thumb tracing a slow, grounding path against the fabric of her shirt.

He didn't pull away. He didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. The contrast was startling: the brutal strength of the man who had crushed countless souls and the unexpected, fragile tenderness he reserved only for her.

"Let her be shocked," Felix rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that resonated deep in her chest. "It is a reality she will have to grow accustomed to. We are not... traditional men, and you are not a woman who settles for tradition."

Beside them, Demetri was a study in controlled, simmering hunger. He had heard the whisper, and it had acted like an accelerant on the fire already burning in his veins. Having her so close—feeling the heat of her pulse, the frantic, irregular rhythm of her heart as she stood between them—was a form of exquisite torture.

The temptation to close the distance, to tilt her chin up and silence her anxieties with a searing, possessive kiss, was becoming nearly unbearable. His fingers twitched at his sides, his eyes darkening to an almost black gold as he watched her. He moved into her peripheral vision, closing the gap until he was looming over her from the other side, creating a human—and superhuman—cage that shut out the rest of the world, including her bewildered mother.

"Two boyfriends," Demetri repeated, the words rolling off his tongue with a dangerous, velvet smoothness. He didn't look at the mother; his gaze was laser-focused on the way the pulse jumped at the base of her throat. "The term feels so... insufficient. It makes us sound like mere acquaintances in your life."

He leaned in, his nose brushing against her temple, the scent of her—warm, living, and chaotic—filling his senses. He inhaled deeply, a sound that was less of a breath and more of a suppressed growl of longing.

"We are, however, very patient," Demetri murmured, his voice a lethal caress. "We can allow you the time to explain the logistics to your mother, if that is what you require. But do not think for a moment that we intend to remain in the shadows while you do it."

Felix shifted, his massive frame effectively blocking the mother’s view of the more intimate display. He looked at the girl, his dark eyes demanding her attention, his expression a strange, fierce blend of protectiveness and desire.

"Introduce us," Felix commanded, though the harshness was absent, replaced by a deep, resonant gravity. "And then, as you promised—or as Demetri promised for you—we shall go find something worth eating. I believe your mother has seen quite enough of the 'frozen' variety for one evening."

The mother stood in the corner, clutching a wooden spoon like a shield, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process the surreal, terrifyingly beautiful sight of her daughter flanked by two men who looked as though they had walked out of a fashion magazine, and yet were currently looking at her daughter as if she were the only living thing that mattered in the entire world.

The silence that followed her introduction was heavy, charged with an intensity that made the very air in the kitchen feel viscous. Her mother, still clutching that pathetic wooden spoon, looked from the towering, statuesque presence of Felix to the feline, predatory grace of Demetri. She blinked, her brain clearly struggling to reconcile the sheer, unnatural beauty of the two men with the terrifying aura of dominance they radiated.

Felix didn't wait for the mother to find her voice. He moved with that terrifying, fluid economy of motion, stepping forward to bridge the distance. He didn't offer a handshake—that would have been a farce, given the crushing strength in his fingers. Instead, he offered a stiff, formal bow, a remnant of a more archaic time.

"It is a pleasure to finally be presented," Felix said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to rattle the very glass in the cupboards. He straightened, his dark, unyielding gaze shifting toward the mother. The intensity in his eyes was unmistakable; it was the look of a guardian who had claimed his territory and was now signaling that the boundaries were set. "We have heard much about you. And we hope to make our acquaintance... unforgettable."

Demetri, however, couldn't help himself. He remained close to the girl, his presence a deliberate, humming contrast to Felix’s stoicism. He tilted his head, his golden eyes locked on the girl’s eloquent gaze, fully aware of the "very close" implication she had just dropped. His lips quirked into a smirk that was as elegant as it was lethal.

"We are, indeed, inseparable from her," Demetri added, his voice smooth as aged wine and just as intoxicating. He didn't offer a bow. Instead, he stepped into the girl’s space, his hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear—a gesture so possessive and intimate that it left no room for interpretation.

He leaned down, his lips ghosting against her skin, his voice dropping to a low, velvet murmur that was ostensibly for her but clearly meant for the entire room. "And I think you’ll find, cara, that our version of 'close' is quite absolute."

The girl’s mother let out a small, strangled sound—a mix of awe and sheer, unadulterated shock. She looked at her daughter, whose face was still a bright, vulnerable shade of pink, and then back to the two men who looked as if they belonged in a museum of ancient art rather than her modest kitchen.

"You... you're staying for dinner?" the mother managed to squeak out, clutching the spoon as if it could protect her from the sheer gravity of their presence.

Felix’s expression softened, a rare, flickering shadow of a smile touching his stern features as he looked down at the girl, then back to the mother. "We wouldn't dream of letting her eat alone," he said.

The air in the room seemed to vibrate with the sheer absurdity of the lie. The girl sat between the two giants, her composure returning as she spun the fabrication with a practiced, casual grace. She looked at her mother, who was still hovering near the stove, and offered a soft, apologetic smile.

"Uhm... no, no, mum" she said, waving a hand dismissively toward the steaming—and frankly unappetizing—plates of rice. "They’re... they’re celiac. Extremely so. And allergic... to just about everything. They really can't eat this."

Felix, sitting perfectly still with his hands folded on the table, felt a flicker of genuine amusement trace its way across his stony features. He had been accused of many things in his long, blood-stained existence—treachery, cruelty, and cold-blooded murder—but never before had he been framed as a man with a restrictive diet. He tilted his head, his dark eyes fixed on her with a look of profound, almost reverent interest. She was protecting her mother from the reality of their nature, and in doing so, she was playing the part of their guardian with such brazen confidence that it took his breath away.

Demetri, however, was having a harder time suppressing his reaction. His shoulders shook with a silent, rhythmic laugh that he expertly masked as he turned his gaze toward the girl. He leaned slightly toward her, the proximity allowing him to catch the scent of her amusement, which was far sweeter than any mortal meal.

"It is a tragedy," Demetri added, his voice smooth, polished, and utterly devoid of anything resembling genuine distress. He looked at the girl, his dark eyes burning with a mixture of adoration and playfulness. "We have spent our entire lives searching for a dish that wouldn't cause us... significant physical discomfort. It appears that tonight, we must simply enjoy the company."

He reached out under the table, his cold fingers brushing against her knee—a secret, electric touch that sent a jolt through her. It was a firm, possessive reminder that he was there, and that he was fully aware of the game she was playing.

Felix shifted, his massive presence making the kitchen chair look like a toy. He let out a low, gravelly rumble that could have been taken for a sympathetic sigh. "It is a heavy burden, living with such limitations," he agreed, his tone perfectly flat, playing along with her charade with the precision of a seasoned actor. He didn't look at the mother; he kept his eyes on the girl, his expression softening into an look of such intense, singular focus that the rest of the room seemed to fade into insignificance.

"But," Felix continued, his voice dropping into that intimate, resonant register that only she was meant to hear, "there are other, far more satisfying ways for us to sustain ourselves. We have learned to be very patient when it comes to the things we truly crave."

The mother, seemingly satisfied by this explanation, finally retreated to the other side of the kitchen, muttering something about double-checking the ingredients.

Demetri turned his head to follow the girl’s profile, his lips curving into a smirk that was as sharp as a razor blade. He leaned in close enough that his breath—cold and devoid of any human heat—brushed against her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Allergic to everything, tesoro?" he whispered, his voice a lethal velvet caress. "You are quite the talented liar. You should be careful; if you keep inventing such creative stories about us, we might be forced to show you exactly how 'un-allergic' we are to the things we desire."

The absurdity of the situation had reached a point of no return, and yet, the girl soldiered on, her face flaming with a mixture of mortification and sheer, desperate creativity.

"Uhm... no, no," she stammered, her voice thin but resolute as she gestured vaguely at the bowl of sad, overcooked vegetables. "Not even the carrots... they can’t have those either. They eat... uhm... only special, specific foods." She tells to her mum.

She didn’t dare look at the two men sitting beside her. If she had, she would have seen the atmosphere in the kitchen shatter into pure, predatory delight.

Felix, who had spent centuries watching the rise and fall of civilizations, found himself genuinely captivated by her commitment to the bit. He sat like a monolith, his massive arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes fixed on her profile with a mixture of amusement and intense, simmering possessiveness. To him, her struggle to maintain this pretense was not merely entertaining; it was endearing. She was weaving a shield of words around them, trying to protect her world from the truth, unaware that she had already invited the wolves into the den. He shifted, his chair groaning slightly under his weight, his knee pressing firmly against hers under the table. It was a silent, grounding touch—a reminder that while she might be spinning fairy tales for her mother, they were very much a physical reality.

Demetri, however, was struggling to maintain even a veneer of decorum. A low, rhythmic vibration started in his chest—a laugh he was forcefully stifling. He leaned in, his face mere inches from hers, his golden eyes burning with a dark, wicked light. The irony was exquisite: they were, in a sense, on a "special diet," though not one that could be found in any health-food store or prepared by her mother.

"Special foods," Demetri repeated, his voice a smooth, dangerous velvet that only she and Felix could truly appreciate. He draped an arm across the back of her chair, his fingers idly brushing the hair at the nape of her neck. "She is right, of course. Our... nutritional requirements are quite rare. And very specific."

He turned his gaze toward the mother, his expression perfectly composed, masking the lethal hunger that always lurked just beneath the surface. "We apologize for the inconvenience. We have become quite accustomed to the... restrictive nature of our lives. It is a burden we must bear."

Felix leaned forward as well, his presence looming over the table like a storm cloud. "And we are incredibly particular," he added, his voice a deep, gravelly resonance that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. He fixed his gaze on the girl, his expression softening into something devastatingly intense. "We rarely find anything that satisfies us. But we are learning to appreciate the effort you put into keeping us... comfortable."

The mother, looking increasingly distressed by the prospect of feeding these two strange, beautiful, and demanding men, began to flutter about the kitchen, searching for something—anything—that might fit their "extraordinary" needs.

As the mother turned her back, Demetri leaned down, his lips ghosting against the shell of her ear, his breath a cold, sharp contrast to her flushed, feverish skin. "You are doing a marvelous job, cara," he whispered, his tone dripping with dark, teasing praise. "But keep inventing such elaborate lies about our 'allergies,' and you might find that we decide to demonstrate exactly what we do crave. And I assure you, it has nothing to do with carrots."

Felix watched them, his expression unreadable, his gaze heavy with the weight of his own growing desire. He reached out, his hand covering her own on the table, his skin cold as marble, his grip firm and immovable. He wasn't just a guest anymore; he was a claim.

"Eat," Felix murmured, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Let your mother worry about the menu. We are already quite satisfied with what we have here."

The tension in the kitchen had reached a breaking point, the air thick with the absurdity of their "special diets" and the growing, predatory hum of the two immortals. The girl’s face was an even deeper shade of crimson, her eyes watering—partly from the sheer audacity of her own lies, and partly from the suffocating proximity of the two men who held her world in their grasp.

"I have to go..." she stammered, her voice cracking under the pressure of a rising, hysterical giggle. "Just... a moment in the restroom."

Without waiting for a response, she spun around and bolted from the kitchen, her footsteps thudding rapidly against the stairs as she fled to the sanctuary of the floor above.

The moment she disappeared from sight, the kitchen fell into a silence so profound it was almost deafening. The mother, oblivious to the predatory shift in the room, began rattling pots and pans with renewed, frantic purpose. Felix and Demetri, however, were entirely attuned to the space above them. Their supernatural hearing acted like a radar, isolating the muffled, frantic sounds of her retreat.

Then, it happened.

It started as a soft, choked-off sound—the kind of noise that escapes when someone has been holding their breath for far too long. Then, it broke loose: a bubbling, unrestrained peal of laughter. It was a bright, melodic sound that seemed to dance through the floorboards, cutting through the sterile, cold atmosphere they carried with them.

It was the first time they had heard her laugh since they found her a week ago.

Demetri froze, his head tilting toward the ceiling, his dark eyes blown wide. The smirk that had been playing on his lips softened into something entirely genuine, a look of profound, dazed wonder. He had heard her speak, he had felt her pulse, and he had smelled the sweet, rhythmic scent of her life, but he had never heard the sound of her joy. It was like a chord of music in a world of static.

Felix Volturi × Demetri Volturi × human mate (fem)

The air in the small apartment was heavy, charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with the approaching storm. Outside, on the balcony, the July sun was beating down hard, but the shouts coming from the building next door sliced through the domestic quiet like glass blades.

​The neighbor—a man with a purple face and neck veins pulsing with futile rage—was bellowing again. "I told you to take that laundry down! It stinks! It’s a disgrace, it attracts insects!"

​Felix remained motionless, leaning against the doorframe that led to the living room. He hadn't moved since the girl had gone out to try to calm her father, but his posture had changed. It was no longer the casual elegance of a hunter in waiting; it was the compressed tension of a steel spring. His eyes, usually clear and lethargic like black velvet, had taken on a glassy, almost magnetic luster. His marble face showed not a shred of human empathy; there was only a detached curiosity, the same kind an entomologist reserves for a pesky insect before crushing it.

​Demetri, conversely, was a shadow within the shadows of the darkest corner of the hallway. His usual mocking expression had vanished, replaced by a smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was a predatory smile, thin as a line drawn with a scalpel. His gaze wasn't directed at the neighbor, but at the girl's racing heartbeat, a rhythm he perceived distinctly, a throb of fear that annoyed him deeply.

​"I told you to close that door! It's rude, it’s... it’s an indecency!" the neighbor continued to scream, then lunged toward the girl’s father, who, with clenched fists and locked jaw, was about to climb over the railing.

​"Dad, no! Stop, please!" her voice was a gasp, cracked with humiliation. "It’s not worth it, they’ll arrest you because of this idiot!"

​Demetri stepped forward, his movement imperceptible, fluid as flowing mercury. He turned toward Felix, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. They didn't need to speak; the bond that tied them to the fragile creature they had chosen was a categorical imperative that transcended their nature.

​"The noise is... annoying, don't you think, Felix?" Demetri's voice was a razor cutting through the silence of the room. It was low, velvety, but loaded with a promise of violence that would have made anyone’s blood run cold had they the misfortune to hear it.

​Felix pushed off the doorframe, moving with a predatory grace that defied all physical laws. His gaze returned to the girl, then settled on the neighbor's rage-distorted silhouette on the balcony. There was no anger in him, only a glacial annoyance, the desire to cleanse the scene of that disturbing element.

​"It is not the noise that is annoying, Demetri," Felix replied, his voice a superhuman murmur, devoid of human vibrations. "It is the insolence toward what belongs to us. No one should dare raise their voice in the presence of... of her."

​Felix took a step toward the ajar door, his body seeming to absorb the ambient light. He wasn't running, but in a fraction of a second, the distance between the living room and the doorway became nothing. His gaze, fixed on the man outside, was like an electric shock. The neighbor, without understanding why, stopped abruptly; the words died in his throat as if he had swallowed ice. For an instant, the man met Felix's eyes, and what he saw in that primordial abyss was so total, so terrible in its nullity, that it forced an instinctive recoil that nearly made him stumble.

​Demetri followed, his figure seeming to obscure the sun filtering through the open door. He stopped behind the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder with a possessiveness that brooked no argument. The girl's father froze, seized by a sudden shiver, a visceral reaction he couldn't explain but which forced him to let go of the parapet.

​"I believe," Demetri said, addressing the girl's father with a smile that was pure, contained cruelty, "that the gentleman has exhausted his repertoire. Hasn't he, dear neighbor?"

​There was no need for verbal threats. The silence that enveloped the balcony was heavy with a supernatural menace. The neighbor, pale as a sheet, didn't say another word. He went back inside, closing his own door with a speed that bordered on panic, letting silence finally reign once more.

​Felix remained motionless, his gaze turned toward the interior of the apartment, toward her, as if waiting only for a nod to erase that nuisance from the world, once and for all.

​"I don't care if you eat people... but if eating them means making this... thing go away," she said, gesturing toward the wall shared with the next-door apartment, "then so be it. Are years it keep going on... Why is the only idiot within ten miles living right next to us?" The girl said this as evening fell, alone with the two of them in her room.

​The dim light of the room was interrupted only by the blade of light filtering from the hallway, casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. The girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed against the wall that separated them from the outside world, from the noise, from the neighbor, and from the absurdity of the day.

​Felix had remained in the darkest corner, arms crossed over his chest, a perfectly composed statue of granite. His pupils, black as obsidian, never left the girl's profile. Hearing those words, an imperceptible movement shook his shoulders. It wasn't distress; it was a dark form of amusement. A smile, barely hinted at, creased his perfect lips.

​"Your pragmatism, my dear, is... refreshing," Felix began, his voice cold velvet that seemed to vibrate in the still air. He approached her with the fluidity of a predator preparing to pounce, stopping just inches away. "Most humans tremble at the thought of our nature. You, on the other hand, evaluate its utility as if we were talking about fixing a faucet."

​Demetri, for his part, had leaned against the window frame, watching the city lights twinkling faintly in the distance. He laughed, a dry sound, devoid of any warmth, which seemed to make the glass tremble.

​"Ten miles is a rather generous radius," Demetri commented, turning toward her with eyes glowing with a famished light, an unnatural reflection that made his face even sharper. "If you wish for the 'problem' to be removed, we don't need to trouble our diet. There are much more... silent methods to make a man's life unbearably difficult, or to convince him to move to the most distant and desolate place on earth."

​Felix took a step forward, his towering presence obscuring the light from the bedside lamp. "But if your preference were instead to fall upon the definitive solution..." he continued, lowering his voice until it became a superhuman murmur that slid down the girl's spine, "it would be a pleasure to make the nuisance disappear. An act of courtesy, not hunger."

​Demetri detached himself from the window, the movement rapid and feline. He approached her from the opposite side, completing the circle around her figure. "The world is full of idiots, it's true. But none of them have had the misfortune of attracting the attention of those who do not play by human rules," he whispered, leaning toward her ear. "Just tell me it is what you want, and that wall will return to being nothing more than a silent boundary between us and nothingness."

​Felix didn't avert his gaze, waiting for confirmation, a nod, a blink that would give the signal to the predator that, for hours, had been restless under his cold skin. "Well? Must we rid you of this weight, or do you prefer we limit ourselves to a lesson he will never forget?"

​"Lesson first, and then, if that doesn't work... do what you have to," she said, shrugging. The sweet, calm girl of the week before seemed to have vanished, as if the morning's episode hadn't been the only one.

​The silence that followed her sentence was of a dense, almost solid quality. There was no trace of hesitation or fear in her voice; only the weariness of someone who has endured an irritating interference for too long.

​Demetri was the first to react. His smile widened, becoming genuine in his predatory satisfaction. He dropped onto the edge of the bed beside her; the weight of his body—nonexistent for a human, but dense as lead—made the mattress sink. He reached out a hand, brushing her chin with his icy index finger, forcing her to look him straight in the eyes.

​"A lesson," he repeated, savoring the word as if it were a fine wine. "It is fascinating to see you lose your patience. It is a new color; it suits you."

​Felix, for his part, remained standing, but his expression had changed. The almost religious austerity that usually enveloped him had cracked, revealing a dark curiosity. He was no longer just the warrior following orders, but a man seeing, finally, a glimmer of the ferocity he himself knew all too well.

​"A lesson," confirmed Felix, his voice vibrating like distant thunder. "Very well. It will be a lesson he remembers for the rest of his... short existence."

​They exchanged a quick glance, a brief exchange of information in a language that didn't belong to this world. They didn't need elaborate plans; for them, manipulating a human's reality was little more than a magic trick.

​"He won't leave his house to complain anymore," added Demetri, his tone sliding into a raspy, promising whisper. "He will learn that silence is the highest form of wisdom, especially when living next to... entities who would prefer not to be disturbed. But I warn you: once we begin to dismantle his security, there will be no return. The man who returns to look from that balcony will not be the same one who yelled at you today. He will be an empty shell, terrified of his own shadow."

​Felix took a step toward the door, his broad shoulders seeming to fill the room's space. "Patience is a virtue that does not belong to us, but for you, we can display it for a few more hours. Tonight, while he sleeps, his world will begin to crumble. And if tomorrow morning I should still hear the sound of his voice..."

​Felix didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. His gaze, fixed on the wall, was a promise of total oblivion.

​"Consider it done," concluded Demetri, rising and reaching out a hand toward Felix. "Let us prepare the ground. We shall see if his insolence survives a night of nightmares he cannot explain."

​The girl remained there, sitting in the darkness, while the two Volturi moved toward the exit with the unnatural grace of those who know exactly how to break a man without even touching him. The neighbor didn't know he had signed his own condemnation, and for the first time, the girl felt not the slightest trace of remorse.

The accident

Felix Volturi × Demetri Volturi× human mate (fem)

The hot steam rose in dense, fragrant plumes from the surface of the thermal water, creating a suspended, almost unreal atmosphere inside the luxury private cabin that Aro had placed at their complete disposal. Aro Volturi knew how to be incredibly generous when it came to singing the praises of destiny, especially if that destiny bound his two deadliest warriors, Felix and Demetri, to a single, fragile human anchor.

The girl – Bella Swan’s cousin, catapulted into that golden nightmare just twenty-four hours after Edward, Bella, and Alice’s mad dash to save Edward – sat curled up on the highest step of the large lava stone tub. Her body was submerged to her chest in the boiling water, but she continued to tremble. Her eyes darted frantically from one figure to the other, filled with blind, primal terror. Only the day before, she had been ignorant of the existence of monsters; today, she found herself bound to two of them by the most sacred and unbreakable bond in the vampire world.

Demetri was leaning against the opposite edge of the tub, appearing relaxed. His lethal, effeminate beauty was accentuated by the golden reflections of the dim lights, and his dark eyes, veined with the crimson red that so frightened the girl, studied her with surgical precision. He caught every minor change in her heartbeat, every broken breath. A short distance away, Felix sat in the water like a titan of dark marble. His imposing bulk loomed over the surrounding space, but the expression on his square face was unusually tense, divided between the dominant instinct of possession and an innate, clumsy caution not to break that fragile 'mosaic of glass' that was their mate.

'You should relax, sweetheart,' Demetri murmured, his voice flowing like liquid silk, designed to soothe. 'The water is good for your mortal body. And we have no intention of harming you.'

'You... you feed on blood,' she replied with a thin voice, pulling her knees to her chest. Her heart was drumming in her chest at a frantic cardiac rhythm. 'How can I...'

Felix let out a low grunt, not of anger, but of frustration. 'If we had wanted to harm you, you wouldn't be here. Aro cleared the entire wing of the resort for us. You are safe.'

But safety, for a human surrounded by apex predators, is an ephemeral concept. And danger, at times, has no sharp teeth.

The girl decided to move slightly away from Felix, whose range of motion intimidated her more. She slid a little deeper into the tub, moving her legs in the thermal water toward the center of the artificial pool, where the water was deeper. She could not have known that on the bottom of the luxury structure, hidden by the steam and convective currents, was a powerful suction drain for rapid water recirculation, missing its protective grille due to maintenance work left half-finished by the resort staff before the forced evacuation ordered by the Volturi.

The disaster happened in a deadly blink of an eye.

As soon as her right foot passed over the invisible vortex, the terrifying suction force of the industrial pump pulled her downward. Her ankle slipped right inside up to mid-calf, wedging itself into the steel opening.

The girl didn't even have time to scream. A gasp, an expression of pure shock on her face, and she was violently dragged below the surface. Water immediately filled her mouth and lungs as she desperately tried to resurface, but the vacuum generated by the drain held her glued to the bottom like an iron vice.

The change in the air was instantaneous. For two predators whose reflexes were calculated in milliseconds, the girl's sudden movement and cessation of breathing were like an explosion.

The young woman's heartbeat spiked in a peak of pure panic, then broke.

'No!' Felix snarled.

The massive vampire moved at a speed that defied the laws of physics, raising a wall of thermal water that crashed against the marble walls. A moment later, he was at the bottom of the tub, his huge stone hands gripping the girl’s hips to pull her up. But as soon as he exerted the slightest fraction of his superhuman strength, a dull crack resounded underwater, accompanied by air bubbles escaping the girl’s mouth in a mute scream. The pressure of the drain created a suction cup effect; pulling her with force meant tearing her leg off.

'Stop! You'll break the bone, Felix!' Demetri hissed, who had already slid underwater next to him, his eyes wide and bloodshot from the adrenaline.

Demetri's mind, usually cold and calculating, specialized in tracking prey, focused with absolute ferocity on the threat. He saw the pale skin of the girl’s ankle begin to bruise, stuck in the steel pipe. The girl was running out of air; her glassy eyes fixed on the two vampires underwater, her hands beating weakly against Felix’s chest in a last, desperate glimmer of life.

Felix, seeing his mate suffocating, lost every shred of his legendary self-control. A bestial, vibrating snarl shook the walls of the tub. Unable to pull her, he used his destructive strength against the structure itself. He sank his marble fingers directly into the lava stone surrounding the drain, shattering it as if it were dry clay. Pieces of rock sprayed everywhere underwater.

Meanwhile, Demetri surfaced for a fraction of a second. With a lightning-fast leap, he jumped out of the tub, landed on the slippery floor, and lunged at the main electrical panel recessed in the cabin wall. Instead of looking for the switch, he delivered a devastating punch into the wall, ripping the high-voltage electrical cables with his bare hands. Blue sparks flared in the air, and a strong smell of ozone filled the room as the resort's power went out, instantly shutting down the pump's motor.

Underwater, the transition was immediate. The suction grip ceased.

Felix didn't waste a moment: with millimetric delicacy, he slipped the girl’s leg from the deformed pipe and lifted her in his arms, breaking the surface of the water.

'Demetri!' thundered Felix, his voice reduced to a roar of pure, primal terror as he laid the girl’s lifeless body on the marble edge of the tub.

The girl was pale, her lips bluish, and her chest was motionless. Her heartbeat was reduced to a weak, irregular flicker.

Demetri was beside them in a millisecond, his wet hair plastered to his perfect face, his usually ironic expression replaced by a mask of fierce determination. 'Move,' he ordered Felix, whose powerless fury risked only causing more damage.

Although they were creatures made to deal death, both knew perfectly well how fragile human anatomy worked: Aro forced them to study it for pure intellectual complacency, and now that knowledge was their only salvation. Demetri tilted her head back, pinched her nose, and pressed his cold lips against the girl’s, breathing air into her desperately empty lungs, while Felix, pressing with only two fingers so as not to shatter her sternum, performed chest compressions with a timing marked by his own millennial sense of rhythm.

'Come on, sweetheart, come on...' Felix growled through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on her face, while the scent of human blood dripping from a deep abrasion on her injured ankle filled the room. In any other situation, that scent would have sent them into a frenzy. Now, it was just the terrifying reminder that their mate was dying. The monster inside them didn't want to feed; it wanted that heart to keep beating.

After three agonizing cycles, the girl’s body jerked violently.

She expelled a jet of thermal water, coughing convulsively. Her chest rose in a deep, greedy, desperate breath. Air returned to fill her lungs and her heart resumed beating, accelerating wildly under the effect of adrenaline and fear.

She opened her eyes, glassy and filled with tears, and the first thing she saw were the faces of the two vampires, very close to her. They were wet, their features distorted by anxiety so deep it seemed almost human, their blood-red eyes glowing in the darkness of the room illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the glass walls.

Felix let out a sigh that sounded like the roar of a relieved lion, suddenly clutching her against his massive chest. Despite the terror she still felt for his strength, the girl instinctively curled up against that marble warmth, too weak to resist, while Demetri stroked her wet hair with trembling fingers, a violently protective emotion tightening his throat.

The silence that followed the girl’s first breath was broken only by the sound of her convulsive sobbing—a broken, raspy cry as the thermal water still drained from her lungs. The pain in her ankle, a sharp, throbbing ache radiating up her leg, was beginning to tear through the veil of shock.

Felix and Demetri moved in unison, a choreographed ballet of predatory grace that had transformed into extreme solicitude. There was no trace of the typical Volturi arrogance; there was only a kind of terrified reverence toward the fragility of the creature who, by pure chance, was their only link to a humanity they had forgotten centuries ago.

"Shh... it’s all right, breathe," Demetri’s voice was a velvety whisper, devoid of any trace of that hunting tone that made him the Tracker par excellence. He knelt on the wet marble, his cold hands caressing the girl’s face, drying her tears and the water with almost unreal delicacy. Every touch was calibrated to the millimeter; he feared that if he applied too much pressure, he might graze her skin like tissue paper. "You are here. You are with us. Nothing will ever happen to you again, I swear it."

The girl trembled violently, her pale face streaked with wetness, unable to stop coughing. "Thank you... thank you..." she stammered between sobs, gripping Felix’s shoulder with a hand that shook so violently it seemed beyond her control. "I thought... I thought I was dying... I thought..."

Felix, usually the executioner who left no witnesses, felt paralyzed by an helplessness that made him shudder with rage. His right hand covered the girl’s broken ankle, not gripping it, but acting as a shield, radiating a supernatural cold that vainly sought to soothe the pain of the shattered bone. His eyes, usually dull in a glacial calm, were lit with a dark, restless fire.

"Don’t cry, my little life," Felix began, his voice deep and raspy, sounding like the rumbling of a volcano. He was not accustomed to managing emotional pain, let alone that of a human who feared him as much as she had feared the drain. With studied slowness, he took off the heavy linen robe lying on the floor and wrapped her in it, pulling her into an embrace that was a fortress. "Don’t you dare think about the end. As long as you breathe, as long as your heart beats for us, no one can take you away. Not the water, not the earth."

Demetri sprang to his feet, his gaze fixing for a second on the chaos they had created: the destroyed drain, the torn-out electrical panel, the shattered marble of the tub. His mind, accustomed to mapping every corner of the world, was already calculating how to repair, how to hide, how to sanitize.

"Felix, take her to the lounge," Demetri ordered, his voice returning to an authoritative tone—not out of command, but out of practical necessity. He approached again, and this time, with a lightning-fast yet incredibly gentle gesture, he lifted the girl’s legs with his arms, careful not to touch the bruised ankle, while Felix supported her torso.

The girl moaned in pain, a sharp sound that made the neck muscles of both vampires contract.

"I know it hurts; we can feel it in your scent, in the way your blood accelerates," Demetri murmured, looking her straight in the eyes with an intensity that forced her to slightly calm her breathing. "But soon the pain will be just a memory. We won’t let you suffer. Never again."

They carried her into the private lounge, laying her on the large, blood-red velvet sofa. Felix did not pull away, sitting beside her, offering his own chest as a backrest, keeping her locked in a bubble of protection where no danger—not even a grain of dust—could enter. Demetri walked away for an instant, only to return with a warm towel and a glass of mineral water, which he held to her lips with infinite patience.

"Drink," Demetri said, carefully drying her hair. Every time she jolted from a sob, they stiffened, ready to spring, ready to destroy anyone or anything that had caused her that pain.

The girl continued to stammer apologies, thanking them as if they were her saviors rather than the monsters holding her hostage. And at that moment, the dynamic between them changed. They were no longer just their "owners" or mates by Aro’s decree. They had become her guardians.

Felix took her hand, pressing it against his marble cheek, forcing her to feel his supernatural temperature, to look beyond his assassin’s frame. "You don’t have to thank us," Felix said, and his voice was no longer a roar, but an almost fragile whisper. "It is our duty to keep you whole. If you break... we break. Never forget that."

Demetri, sitting at her feet, held her ankle between his cold hands, applying a firm, almost magnetic pressure that, for some inexplicable reason, was starting to make the sharp sting of pain vanish. His gaze was fixed on the wound, a mask of absolute concentration, as if he were trying to reset the bone with the sheer force of his will.

"We are here," Demetri concluded, looking at Felix over the girl’s head—a silent agreement sealed in that crimson gaze. "For this month, and for as long as Aro allows us, you will no longer know fear. We will chase it from your heart, one second at a time."

The silence in the suite was broken only by the girl's uneven breathing and the soft crackling of the embers in the fireplace, which Demetri had lit to warm the freezing air radiating from the girl due to the shock. Despite the throbbing pain in her ankle, her heartbeat was finally slowing down, shifting from the rhythm of a hunted prey to that of a human who, against all logic, feels safe.

Felix had not left her side for even a second. He was sitting on the sofa, a living block of granite supporting her with obsessive care, while the girl, wrapped in soft blankets, rested her head against his massive chest. Demetri, on the other hand, moved through the room with a grace that defied reality. Without needing to consult the hotel staff—who feared the Volturi far too deeply to dare disturb them—he had already taken care of ordering the best the resort had to offer.

With a quick nod toward the door, Demetri made a terrified waiter appear as if by magic, who left a silver cart in the hallway and fled. Demetri returned with a tray piled high with crushed ice, upon which lay, opalescent and inviting, dozens of fresh oysters and a small bowl of Beluga caviar.

"You cannot fight trauma on an empty stomach," Demetri began, approaching with a smile that was meant to be encouraging but retained a hint of predatory intensity. He sat on a velvet stool right in front of her, isolating her from the memory of the drain. "Aro says that the taste of salt and life is the best way to remind the body that it is still tethered to this world."

The girl stared at the food, still pale, but hunger—a physiological reaction to the drop in blood sugar caused by the panic—began to make itself felt. Felix handed her an oyster, opening it with surgical precision that wouldn't have scratched a millimeter of the mollusk.

"Eat," Felix ordered, in his usual deep voice, which this time vibrated with a gruff tenderness. "Demetri insisted that they bring the best from the sea. We have no intention of letting you weaken."

While she began to eat, trying to ignore the dull ache in her leg, the two vampires began to weave a carefully constructed web of conversation. They did not speak of Volterra, they did not speak of her family, and even less of the dangers that awaited her outside that resort.

"Have you ever seen the Norwegian fjords in winter?" Demetri asked, starting to recount a distant anecdote, his voice becoming hypnotic. "The sunlight reflects off the ice, creating colors that don't exist anywhere else on earth. It is a silence different from this one. It is a silence that gets into your bones and makes you realize how quiet eternity can be..."

Felix, for his part, intervened with more concrete, almost tactile descriptions of the beauty they had encountered over the centuries. "We will take you to see the forests of the North, when your foot has healed," Felix said, and his hand rested, warm and protective, on the blanket covering the girl's leg. "No water, no currents. Only solid ground, ancient trees, and skies that seem to have no end. You will like it. You have no idea how much you are made for quiet, not for this chaos."

The girl listened, enchanted, while the oysters and caviar acted like a balm. She felt like a doll contested between two gods who had decided, for once, not to destroy what they touched, but to preserve it.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered at one point, her voice broken by an emotion she couldn't define. "You are so... different from how I imagined you."

Demetri interrupted his story, exchanging a look with Felix. It was a look that contained centuries of loneliness, of ruthless hunting, and, finally, of that new, burning obsession that bound them to her.

"We are creatures who have seen far too much death, my little life," replied Demetri, leaning in to tuck a lock of damp hair behind her ear. "For millennia, our only interaction with the human race has been the end of its path. You are the only thing that reminds us that a beginning exists. It is not kindness, ours. It is a craving for life. We want you to live, because as long as you breathe, we, too, in a sense, feel less... of stone."

Felix nodded, a slow and solemn movement. "Do not think about what happened. Think of the sea, the cold of the fjords, the caviar you are eating. Think of everything we can show you. The world, from tomorrow, will only be what we allow you to see."

The girl felt her breath catch, no longer because of the drain, but because of the intensity of those promises. She knew that, despite their sweet words and the fine food, she was in a gilded cage. Yet, as she felt the heat of Felix against her back and Demetri's rapt gaze upon her, for the first time since she had discovered the existence of vampires, fear gave way to a seductive resignation.

A year in Italy: the Villa in Tuscany

part 1

The iron gate swung open with a rhythmic, protesting screech, announcing the arrival of the Hellfire Club to the Villa di Luna. But as they crested the final slope of the driveway, the collective roar of Eddie’s van—and the boys' own restless energy—was swallowed whole by the golden silence of the Tuscan countryside.

The property was a masterclass in ancient serenity. Cypress trees stood like dark, emerald sentinels along the gravel path, their tops swaying rhythmically against a sky so blue it looked painted. The villa itself was a sprawling, sun-bleached stone structure, draped in thick, flowering wisteria that smelled of honey and dust.

Elena stood in the threshold of the main loggia, framed by cascading vines. The midday light caught the stray tendrils of hair escaping her braid, giving her an almost luminous, haloed appearance. She wore a simple, cream-colored linen dress, and for a heartbeat, the boys didn't see a 28-year-old woman; they saw a character from an epic poem, a steward of a woodland kingdom. She held a ceramic bowl of deep purple plums, her hands steady, her posture relaxed yet regal.

The effect on the boys was instantaneous and physical.

Eddie, who had spent the entire trip with his boots up on the dashboard, his leather vest clinging to him in the heat, stumbled out of the van and stopped dead. He felt the heavy metal chains around his neck suddenly seem too loud, too aggressive. He instinctively smoothed his hair back, a gesture of rare, unprompted self-consciousness. He wasn't looking at a landlord; he was looking at an enigma.

"Whoa," Dustin breathed, his hand frozen midway to his pocket to grab his walkie-talkie. His eyes tracked the way the sunlight played on the limestone floor around her feet. "Did we just stumble into an alternate dimension? Because that," he gestured vaguely toward her, "is definitely not Hawkins."

Mike and Lucas stood paralyzed behind him, their usual camaraderie replaced by a sudden, reverent stillness. They were used to the harsh, sterile lights of the school basement and the frantic, messy intensity of the Upside Down. Elena was the polar opposite: she was earth, stone, and warmth. She felt permanent. She felt safe.

"Welcome," Elena said, her voice clear and melodic, lacking the manic urgency they were so accustomed to. "I’ve been expecting you. The heat is heavy today—please, leave your bags. I have cold water and fruit prepared inside."

She didn't demand their attention; she simply commanded the space. She turned and walked toward the arched doorway, her gait fluid and light.

"She moves like she’s floating," Lucas whispered, his eyes wide as he watched her disappear into the cool shadows of the house. "Do you think she’s a druid? Or maybe a high-level Cleric? She’s definitely got some kind of aura buff going on."

"Shut up, Lucas," Eddie muttered, though his tone lacked its usual edge. He was busy staring at the way the light shifted as she vanished inside. "Just… be respectful. You don't walk into a palace and act like you’re in a dungeon, alright? This isn't our turf. This is her world. Behave".

Stepping over the threshold was like crossing a physical boundary between two different planes of existence. The air inside the villa didn’t just feel cooler; it felt filtered, stripped of the metallic tang of the van and the oppressive highway heat. It was a sensory ambush: the deep, earthy richness of freshly baked pane toscano mingled with the sharp, clean, hauntingly floral notes of dried lavender bundles hanging from the exposed oak beams.

The interior was a study in deliberate, quiet organization. The terracotta floors were buffed to a dull, warm glow, and every surface—from the heavy, hand-carved dining table to the deep stone windowsills—was utterly, impossibly clear of the usual clutter of their lives. No loose papers, no scattered D&D character sheets, no half-empty soda cans. Just the clean, honest geometry of a home built to last centuries.

"Guys," Dustin whispered, his voice hushed as if he were entering a library—or a cathedral. He didn't dare set his bag on the floor, instead hoisting it higher onto his shoulder, terrified he might scuff the pristine tiles. "Does this place have a warding spell? It literally smells like… stability."

Eddie took a slow, sweeping look around, his heavy rings clinking softly against each other—a sound that suddenly felt far too sharp for the room. He felt a weird, unfamiliar itch in his throat. He was the Dungeon Master of Hawkins, the King of the Hill, yet here, he felt like a bull in a very, very delicate china shop. He caught sight of Elena’s reflection in a polished copper pot hanging by the hearth as she moved to the kitchen island. She was organizing a ceramic bowl of peaches with precise, fluid movements.

"Look at the place," Mike muttered, nudging Lucas. His gaze was fixed on a row of open windows, through which the late afternoon sun poured in golden, dust-mote-filled shafts. "It’s not just clean. It’s… peaceful. My mom’s house is never this quiet. Even when everyone’s gone, the house feels noisy."

Lucas nodded, his usual defensive posture softening. "It’s the lavender. My grandmother used to use it. It’s supposed to make you calm, right? But I feel like… I feel like if I breathe too deep, I might ruin the air."

Elena didn't look up from her preparations, but she spoke, her voice carrying easily through the open-concept space. "The bread is still warm. If you’re hungry, don't wait for the formal dinner. There’s olive oil on the sideboard—the peppery kind from the grove behind the hill."

The boys stood in a tight, awkward huddle near the entryway, clutching their belongings. The sheer, unadulterated normalcy of her invitation was more disarming than any trap or monster they had ever faced.

Eddie, usually the one to break the tension with a sarcastic quip or a dramatic flourish, found himself just nodding, a tight, earnest movement. "We, uh—we appreciate that. Ma'am," he added, the honorific slipping out before he could stop it. He caught his own reflection in a large, antique mirror near the door and stared. His hair was messy, his denim jacket was frayed and covered in patches, and he looked like a chaotic stain on the serenity of the room.

For the first time since leaving Hawkins, the constant, high-pitched hum of anxiety in Eddie’s brain—the one that waited for sirens or monsters—quieted down to a dull, manageable throb. The smell of the bread was so aggressive in its comfort that it forced his shoulders to drop, just an inch.

"It’s not a dungeon," Eddie muttered to himself, his eyes following Elena as she set a linen napkin down. "And she’s not an NPC. We’re actually here."

Dustin moved toward the table, drawn by the smell of the bread like a moth to a flame, his eyes wide. "If she’s got real butter to go with that," he whispered, his inner geek momentarily replaced by primal hunger, "I think I might never leave this house. I might just retire here and become a professional lavender-grower."

Elena moved with an economy of motion that mesmerized them. She didn't bustle; she didn't clatter. She simply existed in the space, placing ceramic crocks and crystal pitchers onto the dark, weathered wood of the dining table as if she were setting an altar.

When she finally pulled out a chair and sat with them—folding her hands gracefully in her lap—the silence that followed wasn't the awkward, stifling kind. It was the companionable, heavy silence of a gathering that had nowhere else to be.

"Please," she said, nodding toward the spread. "Eat. You must be famished from the flight."

The table was a landscape of textures and colors that felt like a sensory overload to boys raised on frozen pizza and lukewarm Cokes. There were two generous mounds of homemade butter—one flecked with bright, minced green herbs that perfumed the air with rosemary and thyme, the other a pale, creamy yellow. Beside them sat small glass jars filled with homemade preserves: deep, ruby-red cherry jam, a vibrant, sunny marmalade of lemons, and a rustic, dark-seeded fig spread that looked like it had been harvested that very morning. A wedge of local, semi-aged cheese sat alongside a bowl of fresh, firm fruit that seemed almost too perfect to eat.

Dustin was the first to succumb. He reached out with a trembling hand, tearing a hunk of the crusty bread. The sound of the crust cracking—a sharp, distinct snap—echoed in the quiet room. He slathered the herb butter onto the bread, his eyes rolling back slightly as he took the first bite.

"This," Dustin mumbled, his mouth full, "is not grocery store butter. This is… this is alchemy."

Eddie watched him, then slowly followed suit. He took a piece of bread, carefully spread a smear of the cherry jam, and took a bite. The contrast of the tart, sun-ripened fruit against the earthy, warm bread was so overwhelming that he forgot to be cool. He forgot to be the Dungeon Master. He just closed his eyes, his shoulders finally losing that permanent, defensive hunch they’d carried since the van left Hawkins.

Lucas was busy pouring himself a glass of the lemonade. It wasn't the neon-yellow, syrup-heavy soda he was used to; it was pale, cloudy, and filled with fresh lemon zest and mint leaves. He took a sip, and his face lit up. "It’s not sweet like a drink from a machine," he whispered, looking at Elena with genuine awe. "It tastes like… actual lemons. Like the tree it came from."

Elena watched them, a small, knowing smile touching her lips. She didn't interject with questions about their lives or their troubles. She simply poured more water into their glasses and offered a plate of fresh figs.

The sheer normalcy of her kindness—the absence of an ulterior motive—stung more than any curse in a campaign. Mike looked down at his plate, suddenly feeling a tightness in his chest. For years, their lives had been defined by survival, by planning for the next threat, by the constant, grinding friction of being "different."

Elena was treating them not as heroes, not as victims, and not as "freaks". She was treating them as people who were hungry, and who needed a place to rest.

Eddie wiped a smudge of jam from his lip, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "You know," he started, his voice a little rough, "in my world, people usually want something when they give you a feast like this. They want a quest, or they want you to slay a beast, or they want your soul."

Elena laughed, a light, tinkling sound that seemed to chase the last of the dust motes in the room, shaking her head.

After the meal, the air in the villa felt thick with a contented, heavy lethargy. Elena rose, a graceful movement that signaled the end of the feast, and gestured for them to follow.

"I’ve prepared the rooms on the upper floor," she said, her voice a soft, guiding hum. "Each of you has a space of your own. Take time to settle in. There is no rush—there is never a rush here."

As they ascended the stone staircase, the scent changed. The aroma of rosemary and bread faded, replaced by the bright, zesty tang of orange blossoms—a crisp, clean fragrance that seemed to scrub the remaining grime of the road from their senses.

She opened the doors, revealing rooms that looked like they had been plucked from a travel magazine: crisp white linens, rustic wooden beams, and windows that opened out to the vast, rolling hills of Tuscany. But it was the details that made the Hellfire Club stop in their tracks.

In every room, neatly arranged on the dresser, were essentials they hadn't even realized they needed: high-end shower gels, fresh towels, and, specifically for Eddie’s room, a specialized kit of beard oils and grooming tools.

Dustin darted into his room first, his eyes scanning the space until they landed on the corner. "No way," he breathed. He swung the door of the mini-fridge open. Inside, bathed in a soft blue light, were cans of zero-sugar Coke, dark chocolate bars, and bags of their favorite gummy bears. "She… she knew? How did she know?"

Lucas walked to his own room, trailing his fingers over the cool, smooth sheets. He looked at the grooming supplies on the vanity and then back at Elena, who stood in the hallway with that calm, serene smile. "It’s like she’s a DM who prepared the perfect loot for the party," he murmured to Mike. "But instead of weapons, she gave us… comfort."

Eddie, meanwhile, stood in his doorway, staring at the beard balm and the precision trimmers. He was used to gas station soap and bathroom mirrors that reflected a guy who looked like he’d been fighting a war. To see something—something quality—provided for him without judgment hit a nerve he hadn't known was still exposed. He touched the bottle of oil, his heavy rings clinking against the glass.

"Hey," Eddie called out, his voice slightly strained as he looked at Elena. "You didn't have to do all this. The supplies. The, uh—the snacks."

Elena leaned against the doorframe, looking at him with an unwavering, gentle gaze. "You are my guests, it's ok."

Mike sat on the edge of his bed, testing the mattress, his usual defensive posture completely absent. He pulled out a bag of gummy bears and cracked a cold Coke, the familiar fizz echoing in the quiet, orange-scented room. He looked over at Lucas, who was already testing the shower gel, his face reflecting a rare, unfiltered peace.

"It’s weird, isn't it?" Mike said, leaning back against the pillows. "We’re in Italy. We’re in a villa. There’s no Upside Down. No Demogorgons. No Hawkins Lab."

"Yeah," Eddie said, his voice dropping to a whisper that only he could hear. "She’s a wizard. That’s the only explanation. She’s definitely a high-level wizard."

"And the best part?" Dustin poked his head out of his room, grinning. "She doesn't want us to save the world. She just wants us to eat, sleep, and maybe not smell like a van anymore."