The battlefield is chaos. Blood, smoke, and fire twist together into a nightmare that refuses to end. The last remnants of the hybrids are falling, but they fight like cornered animals, desperate and rabid. The vampires are retreating into the shadows, the warlocks and witches still hurling spells, the shapeshifters tearing through the last of the hybrids. The sun is creeping higher. Soon, it will be too late for the vampires.And yet—Valentine is still fighting.He has stepped away from behind me a long time ago.I find him again in the midst of it all, weak but standing, barely able to keep himself upright. He’s using the last shreds of his strength to claw through enemies that barely acknowledge him, as if he’s already half-dead.The sulfur is eating him away.“Valentine!” My voice barely reaches him through the roar of the battle, but he turns. His knees nearly buckle, his hands trembling.I reach him in seconds, steadying him before he collapses. “What the hell are you doing
I wake up wrapped in warmth, the weight of his arm draped over my waist, his breath steady against the back of my neck. I don’t move. I don’t want to. If I could, I’d stay here forever, in this bed, in this moment, letting the world outside fade into nothing.The room is dark, as it always is. Here, though, there’s only the soft glow of candles and the faint hum of the air conditioning. It’s a world of shadows, and I’ve come to find solace in it.“You’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with sleep. His grip tightens around me, pulling me closer. “Good. Now I can tell you again—you don’t have to go.”I sigh, pressing my fingers against the arm resting over me. “We’ve had this conversation.”“And we’re having it again,” he replies. “You don’t have to go back.”“I do.”“No, you don’t.”College. It's been a month since tue fight with the Ascendants and I want to pretend that I'm back to normal.I roll onto my back, looking up at him. His light hair is mussed from sleep, his
The city of Paris drifts past us as the car hums down the street, the gleam of the lamplights catching in Valentine’s eyes. It’s another beautiful night in this city, but there’s nothing beautiful about how I feel. Not tonight. Not with the Council waiting on the other side of those cold, stone doors.“I swear,” I mutter, glaring at the passing streets. “Why can’t they leave me alone?”Valentine chuckles low, a sound so smooth it makes my stomach flutter in a way that shouldn’t be possible when I’m in this mood.“Because they don’t forget. And you’ve become too significant for them to let go.”“Not in the mood for flattery, my love,” I snap, not caring if I sound short.He doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, he just grins, eyes glinting in the soft light. “It’s not flattery, darling. It’s truth.”I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “Truth, right. And this meeting?” I gesture toward the looming building ahead. “This has to do with what now? I stopped the Ascendants. I saved the day. Aren’t
The night air is cool against my skin as we step into the quiet courtyard. The sky stretches endlessly above, ink-black and shimmering with stars, but I barely notice. My mind is tangled in the conversation we just had with the Council, in the choice I made, in the weight of what it means.I don’t regret it.But he’s still thinking about it. I can tell.Valentine’s grip on my hand is firm, but there’s tension in the way he holds me, like he’s afraid that if he lets go, I might change my mind. We decided to take a walk after the council meeting. See Paris a little. For my sake, actually.We walk in silence for a while, the city humming softly in the distance, before he finally speaks.“You’re really certain?” His voice is low, almost hesitant. Like he's scared bringing it up again might annoy me.I don’t stop walking, don’t look at him right away. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”“That’s not an answer.”I sigh, turning to face him. The lamplight casts a golden glow on his sharp
The room is dark, but I know the sun is out. I can feel it, a distant presence beyond the thick curtains. A paradox.I lie on the bed, my fingers gripping the sheets as I stare at the ceiling, waiting. My body hums with a strange mix of anticipation and nerves. I’m jittery, but not afraid. This is what I chose. This is what I want.A shadow moves over me.Valentine.He stands beside the bed, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. His eyes are dark, intense, filled with something I can’t quite name. Reverence, maybe. Possession. Something ancient.He tilts his head. “Are you ready?”I swallow hard, then nod. “I am.”His lips twitch, but the smile doesn’t quite form. “You’re trembling.”“I know.” I take a breath, steadying myself. “It’s not fear.”His gaze drags over my face like he’s memorizing me. “I won’t lie to you. It will hurt.”“I didn’t expect it to be pleasant.”His smirk is sharp. “Of course you didn’t.”There’s a pause.A moment where the world holds its breath.
“Do the dead speak?”The full moon hangs low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the estate's cemetery. The air is still, cool, yet not eerie. Peaceful, in a way.I run my fingers over the smooth stone beneath me, shifting slightly as I balance on the headstone. A grin tugs at my lips. This is the same question that brought Valentine into my life. The same question I ask him now.He lifts his gaze from where he kneels at Achilles’ grave, his fingers brushing absentmindedly over the earth. He’s been whispering to him again, speaking in that low, reverent tone he uses when he thinks no one is listening.He smiles faintly. “Achilles does.”I exhale, nodding. “I know.”Because I hear him too. Not like a ghostly whisper in the wind, not like some disembodied voice. It’s just… Achilles. Whenever I speak to him, he answers, as if death never really silenced him. It’s not like my mother’s grave, always silent, always still.I tilt my head. “What were you telling him?”Valentine ch
The velvet cushions of my father’s throne sink beneath my weight as I lean back, legs draped over one of the armrests, fingers lazily tapping against the hilt of my dagger. The throne room is vast, grand, and utterly suffocating. Gilded chandeliers flicker with eerie candlelight, casting long shadows on the black marble floors. Stained glass windows depict the long reign of my father, the vampire king. It’s all so dramatic. So tedious. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood, polished stone, and the faint metallic tang of blood—always blood. Even here, in the heart of Paris, it lingers. A reminder of what we are. What I am. The doors swing open with a low groan, and I don’t bother lifting my gaze. The heavy scent of jasmine and ancient power floods the air. I know exactly who it is. A sigh, sharp and disapproving, slices through the silence. "Valentine." Her voice is smooth but laced with displeasure. "Get off that throne." I exhale slowly, letting my head fall bac
I stand frozen, the heat of the flames licking at my skin even from this distance. The crackling of the fire is deafening, but it’s the silence in my chest that terrifies me. My mother’s voice echoes in my head, sharp and desperate: “Run, Achilles! Run and don’t look back!”I can still smell the acrid smoke, the burning wood, the charred remains of my childhood. Half of it is gone now, reduced to ash and embers. The other half stands like a hollow shell, a monument to everything I’ve lost.My legs move before I can think, carrying me away from the only home I’ve ever known. Greece. My mother’s coven. The demon. They’re all chasing me now, and I don’t know where to go. All I know is that I can’t stay here. My heart pounds in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I stumble through the dark streets. I don’t even know where I’m going. Just away. Away from the flames. Away from the coven. Away from the demon that haunts my nightmares.Away...that leads me to Paris.The stree
The clock on the wall reads 3:07 AM when the door creaks open.I stir, blinking against the dim glow of the fireplace as heavy boots echo across the marble floors.Then I see him.And my drowsiness vanishes.Valentine strides in like something out of a gothic fever dream, long coat dusted with grime, moonlight trailing him through the open doorway. But it’s not his dramatic entrance that has me bolting upright.It’s the girl in his arms.I stare.Her body is limp, her head resting against his chest. Her ridiculously long black hair spills past his knees, trailing like a shadow. Her lips are slightly parted, her skin almost translucent beneath the chandelier’s glow.Oh, this is rich.I exhale sharply, pressing a hand over my heart in mock horror.“Val,” I gasp. “Have you resorted to kidnapping?”His glare is immediate.I continue anyway.“Is this where we are now? You get a little lonely, and instead of asking me to take you out, you—what? Pluck the prettiest girl off the streets an
A century. A mere blink in my existence, yet it feels like an eternity when spent with him. He. He, the chaos incarnate, the walking, talking embodiment of every headache I've ever endured. Achilles. Even now, a hundred years on, he manages to fill the mansion with his incessant chatter, his ridiculous schemes, his… his presence. Tonight, I seek a reprieve. A hunt.The moon hangs heavy, a silver coin in the velvet sky. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a familiar aroma that usually soothes me. Tonight, it merely serves as a backdrop to my frustration. I stalk through the shadows of the old cemetery, my senses heightened, searching for the telltale signs of wild vampires. They’re a nuisance, these feral creatures, a stain on our kind.Then, I smell it. Something sweet. Caramel, with a delicate hint of lavender. A human scent, but unlike any I've encountered before. It draws me in, a strange, compelling pull.I move silently, a shadow among shado
If I had a coin for every time someone looked at me like I was an inconvenience, I’d probably own a nice pair of boots by now.Valentine’s mother, however, doesn’t just look at me like I’m an inconvenience—she looks at me like I’m a cockroach she’s too disgusted to crush.And I have to say, that’s not new.She says nothing when we run into each other in the halls, just gives me a long, cold stare before turning the other way and ignoring my existence entirely. But I can feel her disapproval dripping off her in waves. The king is no different—silent, unreadable, always watching me with mild curiosity, like I’m some street cat Valentine dragged in from the gutter.(Which, to be fair, is accurate. But still.)I keep my mouth shut, keep my hands to myself, but the longer I sit there in that stifling palace, the more I realize I hate it. I hate the way their presence makes Valentine tense, hate the way his mother’s sharp words cut him down without effort.So when he grabs my wrist later
Achilles is a menace.A charming, loud, dramatic menace.And somehow, against all logic and reason, I am enjoying myself.I’ve spent nearly three centuries in this world, drifting through time with the same predictable routine. Nothing ever surprises me. But Achilles—Achilles is unpredictable. A whirlwind of sarcasm and chaos wrapped in a too-thin frame, wearing my clothes as if he owns them.And now, I am taking him into the city.Paris at night is a sight to behold—cobblestone streets glistening under the glow of gas lamps, the murmur of voices spilling from cafés and carriages rolling down the avenues. The scent of warm bread lingers in the air, mixing with the ever-present perfume of the Seine.Achilles stretches his arms above his head as we step onto the street. “Ah, freedom! I can already smell the possibilities.”I give him a dry look. “That would be fresh bread, not possibilities.”He waves a hand. “Same thing.”We walk, side by side, and I notice he’s still too thin. The
I should’ve seen it coming.The ridiculous wealth. The manor that looks like something out of an ancient royal painting. The way people around here bow slightly when they see him, as if he’s made of something more than the rest of us.Of course, Valentine isn’t just an important vampire. He’s a prince.The prince of all vampires.I pause mid-step in the corridor, my brain struggling to process this absurd fact. I mean, I knew he was high up the vampire ladder—no one lives in a place this extravagant without some serious power backing them—but the son of the king and queen? This is their manor?I’m staying under the same roof as the vampire king and queen?I run a hand down my face. Holy shit.And yet, despite all this, my senses don’t go haywire. I always assumed that if I ever stood in the presence of powerful supernaturals, my body would react—some primal, deep-rooted fear kicking in. But right now, all I feel is…Well. Mild panic. But that’s normal.I shake off the thoughts and
The moment we step into the manor, I hear Achilles’ heart pick up its pace.He’s overwhelmed.It’s evident in the way his wide, dark eyes dart around, struggling to take everything in—the marble floors polished to a mirror shine, the chandeliers dripping with golden light, the tapestries lining the hallways like relics of another time.He hasn’t lived like this before. That much is clear.I don’t acknowledge his awe. Instead, I lead him down the grand hall, past the looming portraits of my ancestors who watch us with unblinking eyes. The silence between us stretches, but I don’t break it. Not yet.We arrive at the dining hall. A long, gleaming mahogany table stretches nearly the entire length of the room, fit for a feast that no one ever has.Achilles lingers at the doorway.“Sit,” I tell him.He hesitates before obeying, perching stiffly on one of the velvet chairs like he’s ready to flee at any second.I turn to one of the maids, who bows instantly. “Something hefty,” I instruct, g
Pain blossoms across my ribs as another kick lands. The crowd jeers, their shouts merging into an incomprehensible storm of voices. Blood trickles down the side of my face, the warm sting mixing with the bitter cold of the Parisian night.I try to move, but a boot presses against my shoulder, pinning me down."Filthy thief," someone spits.I close my eyes. This is it. This is how it ends. Torn apart in the streets like a rat. I don't even have the strength to shift to save my own life.The hunters—standing just beyond the mob—watch with unnerving patience, hands resting on their weapons. They’re waiting for the right moment. The moment I’m too weak to fight back.Then, a voice. Smooth, deep, unhurried.“Enough.”The weight lifts off my shoulder. The kicks stop. The crowd shifts uneasily, murmurs rising like rustling leaves.I open my eyes.A man stands there, tall and composed, golden-blond hair neatly arranged, his fine black coat barely disturbed by the night breeze. There’s some
The gas lamps outside the cabaret flicker weakly, their orange glow barely cutting through the thick fog that clings to the streets of Paris.Inside, the air is heavy with the scent of cheap perfume, spilled wine, and the faint, metallic tang of blood.The orchestra plays a frenzied waltz, the violins screeching like banshees, while couples spin across the floor in a chaotic blur of silk and sweat.I sit in a shadowed corner, a glass of absinthe in my hand, the green liquid swirling like liquid poison.Across from me, a young woman—Marie, she said her name was—chatters incessantly.Her voice is high-pitched, grating, and she’s been going on about her village, her family, her dreams of becoming a singer.I smile, though my patience wears thin.“Do you come here often, monsieur?” she asks, leaning forward, her décolletage on full display.Her French is tinged with a provincial accent, marking her as new to the city.I tilt my head, letting my lips curl into a dangerous smile. “Only when
I stand frozen, the heat of the flames licking at my skin even from this distance. The crackling of the fire is deafening, but it’s the silence in my chest that terrifies me. My mother’s voice echoes in my head, sharp and desperate: “Run, Achilles! Run and don’t look back!”I can still smell the acrid smoke, the burning wood, the charred remains of my childhood. Half of it is gone now, reduced to ash and embers. The other half stands like a hollow shell, a monument to everything I’ve lost.My legs move before I can think, carrying me away from the only home I’ve ever known. Greece. My mother’s coven. The demon. They’re all chasing me now, and I don’t know where to go. All I know is that I can’t stay here. My heart pounds in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I stumble through the dark streets. I don’t even know where I’m going. Just away. Away from the flames. Away from the coven. Away from the demon that haunts my nightmares.Away...that leads me to Paris.The stree