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Chapter One

Here is what I know.

I’m Tamara Devine.

A mere mortal.

I’m twenty-eight.

My skin is on fire.

Every nerve sparks straight into my brain, and I can’t keep my eyes open.

Someone keeps whispering my name.

It’s annoying.

And I’m so fucking hungry.

Dammit, not again.

I claw at the bedding as I convulse, my senses too sharp like someone turned up the contrast on reality.

I have to close my eyes.

There’s a metallic tang in the air.

Blood.

Old, powerful blood.

I want that blood.

Where the hell am I?

The last clear memory I have is of Draakmar’s amulet.

The ancient dragon’s magic was the only thing keeping me alive.

I reach for the magical amulet out of habit.

It’s my last line of defense.

My fingers close around nothing.

Gone.

Of course.

I gave it to Diana.

She never should’ve been dragged into this supernatural nightmare.

She should never have found out about monsters.

She’s only six.

Paul’s daughter.

Paul.

I loved him.

I still might.

But knowing me destroyed his life more than once.

I wanted so desperately to be normal and a part of their lives.

I should have stayed away from them.

If I had the temperament to write it in a book, my story would be a tragedy.

I try to hold on to the memory, but it slips through my fingers like water.

The fire.

My family dying.

Conrad framed me for their murders.

Then time reset like some cosmic joke.

It folded back on itself.

Suddenly, they were alive again, none of them remembering they had died.

Conrad took their place in death.

Only I remembered.

Only I carried that hell.

Then I remember Conrad’s ghost tormenting me.

No.

Not now.

That’s over.

Stay in the present.

I paw at my neck again.

Please, gods, don’t let the amulet have reset time.

No.

Time didn’t reset.

Diana has the amulet now.

She’s safe.

Maybe giving away my protection was the final nail.

Maybe that’s what happened.

Maybe I’m already dead.

A sharp pain tears through my stomach, and my mind screams with one truth.

No.

Definitely not dead.

I feel every excruciating second.

I’m not human anymore.

Lord Constantine.

Costin.

Beautifully deadly master vampire who wants to possess me.

I remember his silky voice and his cold hand.

He’s the flame to my moth.

He pressed his wrist against my mouth while Alpha Thane’s werewolf venom coursed like acid through my veins.

“Drink,” he said.

I obeyed.

Sometimes I think it’s love.

Other times…

I don’t know.

I think maybe it’s all about control.

Regardless, even now, in this agony, I want him.

Pain racks me.

I need to think.

Who am I now?

What?

The pieces are all scattered into a million broken shards.

I have to figure this out.

My father is Davis Devine, a magic so powerful everyone he meets seems to bend to his will.

I’m the byproduct of his affair with Lorelai, a human woman I just found out existed.

She loved me as a baby, but my crib became a magnet for supernatural threats.

Goblins nearly killed me.

So she gave me to my father and vanished.

Pain stabs deep, twisting through my gut.

I scream, but the room swallows the sound.

No one comes to save me.

Why would they?

I’m nothing.

I suppose I could say Astrid saved me once.

Lady Astrid.

Ice in pearls.

She raised her husband’s bastard.

I used to wonder what kind of sadness you had to swallow to stay married to a man like Davis and raise his mortal shame.

But Astrid?

She doesn’t show weakness.

She sharpens it into knives.

The pain lessens, and I can thankfully breathe.

Why won’t I die?

That would make Conrad happy.

He wanted me dead.

Conrad.

My adopted brother.

Human.

Like me, or so I thought.

They gave him to me when I was five, like a toy to keep me company.

He died trying to kill us all.

Then his ghost stalked me until the necromancer Leviathan trapped him.

At least Conrad is finally silent.

I dream about him sometimes.

Well, they’re mostly nightmares.

I start to shiver.

I’m not sure remembering any of this is helping to distract me.

A surge of nausea twists up my throat.

I taste bile and ash.

Fucking let me die.

Who else?

Anthony.

My half-brother.

Magical heir incarnate.

He looks perfect from a distance.

Gold-plated, carefully crafted.

But I know the truth.

He bleeds secrets.

He gave up love to play their game.

And Paul…

Sweet Paul.

The only man who ever saw me without flinching.

I wanted normal.

He offered it.

But I dragged monsters to his doorstep.

And then there’s Costin.

Why does every nerve feel like it’s on fire?

Why can’t I keep my eyes open?

“Tamara…”

Ugh, shut up already!

Who keeps whispering my name?

I’m so hungry.

I want…

I don’t know what I want.

I want everything.

Ravenous pain claws through my stomach, sharp and cruel, until it feels like my guts are on fire.

Images of juicy hamburgers and giant rare steaks fill my thoughts.

I want a giant food porn buffet of meat.

Sizzling meat.

Dripping red.

Practically twitching.

The desire is so strong I can smell it.

No.

Not meat.

Blood.

The realization hits me like a punch to the face.

The very thought should make me gag.

It doesn’t.

The darkness around me is absolute.

I open my eyes and see shapes dancing in the black.

No, not absolute.

I barely register where I am as I push up from a bed.

I concentrate on a shape and hear the harsh pants of my breathing drowning out all else.

The wood grain comes into full focus as if my face is pressed against the wardrobe door.

My fingers run over the bedding, feeling each individual thread woven into the fabric.

All of my senses are sharply defined.

Have I been drugged?

That might explain the bitter taste in my mouth and the strange traces of lights starting to dance across my vision.

Who would slip me acid?

My brother Anthony comes to mind.

Did we smoke a joint laced with magic again?

I need to start saying no to him.

The pain is coming in waves along my body.

My nerves are on fire, and I feel as if my skin is being peeled away from my muscles.

I try to yell, but my throat is raw, as if I’d already screamed for hours.

All I manage is a strange grunt.

None of this is right.

Something is catastrophically wrong with me.

A weird déjà vu nags me like I’ve forgotten this moment before, and I’m reliving the same morning over and over.

I remember feeling Draakmar’s magic being pulled out of my body like I was a supernatural conduit.

I remember bright light and numbness.

I remember being attacked by a…

werewolf?

Or was it a vampire?

In a bank vault?

No gas station.

No…

Subway tunnel?

I grab at my bare neck.

They’re puzzle pieces that don’t fit neatly together.

For the love of everything, please don’t tell me my amulet reset time again.

I can’t take another trip down a parallel universe with multiple timelines in my head when no one else can remember what happened.

Wait no.

I’ve already been over this.

I’m cycling.

Time didn’t reset again.

Diana wears the amulet.

Draakmar wants to be with the six-year-old.

Her innocence calls to the dragon.

Being raised in my supernatural family, innocence is not a word I’d use to describe me when I was Diana’s age.

I like knowing she’ll be taken care of.

Conversely, I’m scared to be without my protection.

The amulet saved my life more times than I can count.

Now I’m defenseless.

Is that what happened to me?

I gave away my protection, and that sacrifice killed me?

Is this what death is?

Floating in confusion from moment to moment?

It must be Hell.

Heaven wouldn’t hurt so much.

No, wrong again.

This is Costin’s home.

I smell him like a fine cologne lingering on the sheets.

It stirs inside me a curious mix of desire and rage.

Behind that is the copper tang of blood.

Why am I so hungry?

I breathe deeper, trying to connect the dots of the last several days.

Time is a mindless blur that makes no sense.

A memory of Elizabeth performing a ritual with the werewolf Alpha comes trickling back.

They tried to harness all the world’s magic, redistributing power to themselves.

Thankfully, they failed, but their attempt came at a great cost.

It won’t go unnoticed.

Ancient powers don’t like it when you fuck with their shit.

I see a flash of light, and I close my eyes tight.

I don’t know if it’s a memory or actually happening.

I remember Elizabeth and Thane standing on the altar of blood and moonlight.

The memory feels like it belongs to someone else or perhaps a movie I watched long ago.

The image has been haunting my thoughts since I entered this newest supernatural nightmare.

Elizabeth is Costin’s vindictive vampire sister.

She’s never pretended to be anything other than what she is, a power-hungry bitch who’d sacrifice anyone for her own ends.

At least she’s honest about her intentions, unlike half the people in my life lately.

She wanted all the power for herself, and when Thane tried to take some of the control, she didn’t hesitate to kill the Alpha.

But not before he bit me.

I run my hand over my shoulder and chest.

My body is healed.

It shouldn’t be.

This is all wrong.

I was dying.

Fuck, this is confusing.

We are born, we live, we die.

That is how it’s supposed to be for humans.

That’s normal.

That’s mortality.

I’ve always had the sense that there isn’t much time.

Life is short.

Live for the moment.

I have an expiration date.

That’s how we mere mortals think.

We’re on a finite timeline.

But mortality should never have been in the cards for me.

Not with the Devine legacy hanging over my neck like a guillotine.

Not with Uncle Mortimer constantly shoving supernatural suitors at me to continue the bloodline like some broodmare.

Everything is becoming clearer now.

A week ago was my expiration date.

I was ready.

I even looked forward to the eternal calm.

And then…

Costin.

Costin, with his ancient eyes and cold hands.

Costin, who promised he wouldn’t let me become a monster.

Costin, who broke his word to save my life.

I can still taste his blood on my lips.

Hot tears stream down my cheeks.

I’m not a mere mortal.

I’m a mere monster.

I don’t want to be a monster.

I don’t know what I am, but I’m clearly no longer human.

There’s so much pain.

My lungs are filled with glass shards, and my blood has been replaced with magma that should turn me to ash.

There is a reason monsters like me don’t exist.

Vampires and werewolves don’t mingle in any capacity.

They can barely stay in the same room together, let alone the same body.

My stomach clenches with a need so intense I curl into myself.

It’s not just hunger.

It’s starvation, desperation.

And beneath the feeling is a thirst so raw it burns my throat.

I need to feed.

The thought comes unbidden in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like mine.

Feed.

Not eat.

Not drink.

Feed.

The fire in my veins intensifies, and my back arches involuntarily.

A howl builds in my chest, fighting to escape my parched lips.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“Tamara.”

Costin’s voice cuts through the painful haze.

I try to focus on it, to use it as an anchor, but it sounds wrong.

It’s too loud, too textured like I can hear each vibration of his vocal cords in slow motion.

“Tamara, love, you need to stay calm.”

Stay calm?

Is he kidding me?

I want to laugh, but it comes out as a growl.

An actual growl that vibrates through my chest and throat.

It feels good, so I do it again.

Louder.

“The transition is difficult under the best circumstances,” he says, closer now.

I can smell him.

Gods, I can smell him.

His scent is an intoxicating blend of blood and power.

It calls to me on a level I don’t understand.

“What,” I rasp.

“What did you do to me?”

I remember fragments.

The ritual.

Thane’s altar.

Elizabeth’s betrayal.

The werewolf bite burning through my system.

Costin’s wrist at my mouth as everything went dark.

“I did what I had to,” he says.

There’s an edge to his voice I’ve never heard before.

Desperation?

From Costin?

“I saved your life.”

“I’m hungry.” The words scrape out of me.

“So hungry.”

“I know.” His hand touches my forehead, cool against my burning skin.

“You need blood.”

Blood.

Yes.

The word resonates through me like a thunderbolt.

Blood.

Feed.

Blood.

A howl builds in my chest, and this time, I can’t suppress it.

My spine tries to reshape itself, bones cracking and muscles tearing.

“You have to fight the wolf,” he urges.

“Resist it, my love. Don’t let it out.”

“Hurts,” I grunt, my muscles going stiff as I arch back.

“You’re caught between transformations.” His voice is strained.

“The werewolf venom is trying to trigger a shift, but the vampire blood is fighting to heal you instead.”

He should tell me something I don’t know.

I have a front-row seat to this shitshow.

The opposing powers war beneath my skin like primordial enemies.

Something wild and feral tries to claw its way out while the vampire blood attempts to subdue it.

My body wants to change, the bones pushing to crack and reshape, while the vampiric virus’ need to heal its host pulls me back.

I stay human-shaped while my insides tear themselves apart.

“Resist, my love.”

I want to argue with him, but my contorting body won’t let me.

“Make it… stop,” I beg, hating how weak I sound.

“Please, Costin, end it.”

I want him to end me.

He should have let me die.

I want to remind him of his promise not to let me turn into a monster.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” He’s a master vampire who rules all the North American territories, and he sounds so helpless.

“We don’t know what you are now. Or what you’ll become.”

My fingers dig into the sheets, tearing through them like paper.

I feel my nails lengthening, hardening into something else.

Claws.

I have claws.

I feel something wet on my face and realize I’m crying.

But when I touch my cheek, my fingers come away red.

“Blood will help. It will strengthen the vampire side.” Costin sits on the edge of the bed and pulls back his sleeve.

“Take mine. It will help fight the werewolf infection.”

He offers his wrist.

The gesture isn’t lost on me, even with the intense hunger.

“No,” I try to say, but my body betrays me.

I can hear his blood pumping, and the smell of ancient power calls to me.

I’m moving before I can stop myself, grabbing his arm with a strength that should be impossible.

He falls back under my weight, tumbling off the bed and onto the floor.

We land with an ugly thud, but I don’t care.

His skin gives way easily beneath my new fangs.

The taste of him hits me like a drug, pure electricity flowing into my mouth.

Primal energy enters my system, and with it comes clarity.

And rage.

I’m no longer content with his arm, and I attack like a feral animal.

My fangs sink into his neck, and I feel him tense beneath me as I tear at his flesh.

He’s stronger than me— he’s always been stronger —but he doesn’t fight back as I drink deeply.

The monster inside of me takes over.

It’s not just a vampire or a wolf, but a terrifying combination of both.

I want to consume him, to claim him, to tear him apart until I devour every piece, bones and all.

“Tamara,” Costin gasps, and I feel his hands on my shoulders, no longer gentle, as his sharp nails bite into my skin.

“Tamara, stop.”

I don’t want to stop.

I can’t stop.

The blood is all that matters.

His grip tightens, and he rips me off him.

Suddenly, I’m flying across the room, slamming into the wall with enough force to crack the plaster.

I land in a crouch, a snarl ripping from my throat, my body coiled and ready to spring.

The rage feels almost as good as the new blood pumping through my body.

Astrid stands in the doorway, her eyes wide with surprise.

Behind her, Anthony’s familiar face contorts with an emotion I can’t name.

But it’s Costin who pulls my gaze.

Blood— my blood, his blood, I can’t tell anymore —stains his throat and shirt.

The wounds I’ve made ooze.

He’s not healing.

“What have you done?” Anthony whispers in horror.

I look down at my hands.

Claws extend from my fingertips, and dark fur has sprouted along my forearms.

I feel the sharp points of fangs pressing against my lips.

“What have you made me?” I ask, my voice a distorted growl that doesn’t sound real.

No one answers.

No one has to.

Their eyes say it all.

I’m a monster.

And I’m still hungry.

I launch at Astrid, fury in my veins.

She’s always made me feel like the family shame.

Her husband’s mortal mistake.

“Tamara,” Anthony shouts, raising his hand.

Blinding light slams into me.

“Stop!”