Ice, Fire, and the Twitter Chronicles.

He learned to gauge the danger by the sound of a bottle opening. Stolichnaya was bearable: his father drank slowly and would fall asleep in his armchair by midnight. Russky Standart was worse: he drank fast, and the "talks" would start. But Pertsovka, the pepper vodka, was for his darkest days. Then he'd be completely silent. Ilya hated Pertsovka. It didn't just smell like vodka—it smelled of fear, sticky and sweet, like his mother's valerian drops. Or: Ilya's Childhood.

One wrong move, one glance that lingers too long — and years of hatred turn into a raging fire.

“You’re losing it. That’s insane to say…” “You’re dirty. And you make me dirty, Shane Hollander.”

Lost on the ice? Get ready to lose in the hotel room. No rules. No mercy. No clothes.

childhood, adolescence, youth, and love against trauma.

Spending time among elderly men, elegant ladies, and wealthy elites did little to flatter Elian—even if the gathering was held in his honor. An award for his modest—or perhaps not so modest—person. So when a message from his boyfriend arrives, he leaves without hesitation, driven by feeling, a pounding heart, and trembling anticipation in his fingers. His rule of “always keep a cool head” fades the moment he gets into a taxi and gives the hotel address.

“Believe me, in Russia this day is practically Doomsday. If you come home without flowers or sweets, you no longer have a home,” Rozanov frowned and turned the phone screen towards himself. “When I was a kid, I got tons of valentines from girls. But even a little version of me, would envy that one you gave me.”

The Canadian kingdom of Elingard is on the verge of a change in power. Prince Shane is the legitimate heir, raised for the throne, flawless and cold. His future has long been decided—both for him and against him. His rival is Ilya Rozanov, the king's illegitimate son, who grew up outside the palace and its protocols. Formally, he has no right to the throne, but his appearance changes the balance of power. The rivalry for the crown turns into a dangerous closeness, where the choice between power.

— You won't be so kind when we defeat you, — Ilya lit a cigarette. — You won't win, — Shane countered with a smile. — Let's bet?

Shane wants to spend Christmas together. Ilya knows exactly why that is impossible. A Heated Rivalry story about desire, denial, and what happens when love collides with fear, violence, and the reality of being seen