Chapter 2
GAbrIELLA
TWENTY FOUR HOURS AGO…
The air inside my sanctum hums. It’s thick with incense, candle smoke, and memories—knowledge passed down from generations and life experiences that carved different paths for the three Wiccan royals.
I mated a vampire, my twin an alpha wolf, and our brother—the warlock king—he’s tied to his beautiful fae in every way a man loves a woman.
We’re happy. The universe blessed us, and yet no amount of time will ever fill the hole our parents’ death left behind. There’s no surpassing or healing that, but every small contact with their spirits temporarily soothes the dull ache.
Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply as my mother’s favorite scent fills the space.
Patchouli and lavender; it wraps around me like her arms once did. A sense of warmth and comfort that takes me back to my youth and all the hours we spent learning from her. Lessons on growing herbs and creating healing tonics— learning to protect our lands with perimeter wards.
Baking and talking…daydreaming of the future.
Dozens of candles burn low, wax pooling over black glass holders. Their flames sway, bending toward the circle carved into the stone floor. Salt, ash, and two identical drops of blood bind the space: Isabella’s and mine.
Across from me, Isa sits on a cushion, draped in white, her fingers poised above our father’s grimoire. She’s a bit distracted, but with Isa, it’s best not to ask. Instead, you let her think and see without interruptions.
Three stones sit within the circle, while the altar is overflowing with offerings. There’s an old record player crooning father’s favorite songs, while a tray of my mother’s beloved sweets sits beside large flower arrangements with her preferred blossoms.
The sudden breeze inside closed quarters makes me smile. I feel them.
They’ve never crossed. Our parents chose to remain in limbo, forever a part of our lives.
Isa looks up then, the glow from the candles making her look almost holy. She loves that. “Well, this is interesting.”
“What is?” The lightest touch flutters through my hair, as if fingers were running through the strands, and it reminds me of Mom weaving daisies in my hair. Always so gentle, you barely felt it.
My sister doesn’t answer. Instead, her eyes get glassy, gold bleeding through her blue irises, bright and burning, while her lips whisper something low. She also opens the grimoire, fingers running through pages until landing on a specific one.
The Blessing Of First Light
By first light and last breath, we welcome thee.
May your heart burn true, your blood run strong, and love guard your path until the stars forget our names.
The words shimmer faintly on the page, as if the ink remembers every time it’s been read aloud.
“Isa…?”
“They’re not alone tonight,” Isabella says, voice low and full of emotion.
She’s not looking at me—her gaze is fixed somewhere beyond, straight through me—but whatever she sees makes her happy.
Almost deliriously so. That same warmth floods through me, rippling across my skin until I swear I can feel our mother’s joy.
My father’s pride. “Others are speaking.”
The water inside the bowl begins to swirl while the stones within the circle begin to pulse. They represent their offspring; a trace of our magic is embedded in each one.
Isa jerks forward, gasping. “Oh Gods.”
“What do you see, Sister?”
“Blood.” Her voice trembles, bathed in excitement.
I move closer and place my hand over hers on Dad’s grimoire.
I don’t ask for her to elaborate. Instead, I give her a moment to blink a few times before her gaze settles on mine.
The irises are gold before they flick back to her natural, baby blue.
“New blood, Gabby. Three heartbeats beneath the next full moon, and they bring new gifts.”
At once, the candles extinguish one by one, plunging us into darkness. Our parents’ presence also vanishes, leaving my sanctum cold.
“But that’s…” I stare at her, my chest tight. “And three?”
“Yes.” Isabella nods, her smile radiant in the dark. “Three different cries.”
“How soon? To whom?”
“A gift created beneath the next full moon and born to the three Wiccan royals…”
* * *
Present
The ground seems to tremble beneath my feet as Theo stalks behind me. He’s letting me run ahead, amusing me by falling behind as I try to put some distance between us. I’m slipping between trees, ignoring the branches scratching my arms as my chest rises and falls with exhilaration.
I’m thrumming. A live wire of adrenaline and magic—part fear, part deep-seated craving.
For pain. For pleasure. For him.
Energy hums all around me—every heartbeat echoes in my ears as life breathes out its acknowledgement. I feel each pulse of the world around us: the life sleeping in the soil and the breath of dying leaves…
It bows to me.
Because I’m its balance. The one blessed by death.
Power flickers beneath my skin, at times too wild, and I draw it in, letting it roll through my veins as it sings. It’s intoxicating. Sparks of life whisper to me, but one voice will forever rise above them all.
His. Always him.
Theodore’s presence is impossible to ignore. It roars through the bond between us, dark and steady—relentless. A beacon in the chaos. He’s my home.
And even when I run, my body still turns slightly toward him, like a compass seeking its north.
“Smug old bastard. All snarl, but no bite,” I say, and it comes out like a whimper. He’s so close…
“I’m going to make you pay for that remark, pretty girl.
Mouth, cunt, and ass.” The heat in his words cause me to shiver, almost stumble on a large root sticking out of the ground, and he takes advantage.
Sharp claws graze my back, from lower back to the base of my neck, and the sting only serves to heighten my desires.
A moment of pain with a promise of pleasure, and each wound blooms, the rich scent of copper headier.
Sanguine rivulets stain my clothes, sticking to my skin.
The scratches aren’t too deep, and I ignore the discomfort and pump my legs a little harder.
He keeps my pace but lets me stay just out of reach, right before I slip inside a hollow tree with an exit on the other side.
It’s a straight-through shot, one he can easily counter by running ahead of me, but all I get is a sharp tug to my curls.
Hard. Fast. That jolt settles on my clit.
It causes my entire body to spasm, my hands shooting out to steady myself against the tree wall as my core clenches and my wetness coats my upper thighs. I’m swollen and sensitive. Throbbing, but the ruler of all vampires merely chuckles while leaning against the opening.
Crimson eyes watch me from beneath long lashes, his eyes hooded, while each muscle in his body contracts. Theodore is fighting back his instincts, and that won’t do.
Turning, I fully face him while gripping the bottom edge of my slip and pulling the ruined garment over my head. I’m bare beneath. Wet, bleeding, and at his mercy—his answering snarl sends a shiver through me.
He takes a menacing step toward me, dick hard and pointing upward toward his stomach, and I watch in delight as Theo grips himself and strokes once, then two more times. He keeps his hold tight as he takes me in, and the way his gaze roams me is feral. Unhinged.
“Gabriella.” My name on his tongue is sinful, a reverent caress across our bond.
“I live for you, my king.” The wound on my wrist has begun to heal; I lift my arm and place the ravaged skin against my fangs. There’s a faint trace of red on my teeth, but to make my monster snap, I will paint the world red.
Moreover, I am his world. Always will be, just as he is mine.
Sinking my incisors deep, I tear through my flesh until there’s a constant drip. Red and sweet—a buffet laid out in front of a vampire who feeds solely on me. He’s never taken a feeder or demanded I let him hunt; he lives to worship me while only taking what’s necessary.
I want more. For him to be selfish for once.
As a turned vampire, I’ve never lost the side of me that’s a witch.
My heart beats.
My body can digest human food.
My body naturally produces the one thing my mate needs.
Rich crimson that I hold above my naked body, watching in pure delight as his facial features tighten further, the hungry beast within him rising to the surface and growling his demands.
His nails grow sharper, his fangs drop lower, and I can’t help but clench my thighs when his cock jerks in his tight hold.
When his abs contract and every sinuous muscle thickens, Theo grips the tree’s trunk with his unoccupied hand, nails digging in deep.
The wood cracks while I let the blood drip.
It runs down my body in streaks, from my breasts down my stomach until sliding down my mound.
I feel each stream, but it’s his heated gaze that makes me moan.
One second, he’s across from me, and the next, Theodore has one arm wrapped around my waist while the other brings my wound to his lips. He kisses the cut. Once, twice…five times before licking across the wound. His groan is deep; it builds in his chest as my taste spreads across his senses.
I feel it in our bond.
He’s pleased with himself as his saliva heals the torn flesh. “Only I hurt you.”
Then he strikes. His head shifts, and his fangs embed themselves in my neck. Pain burst through me like a fiery lash, but then it morphs into unadulterated pleasure. It takes hold of me, spiking as Theodore lifts me and positions me just above his cock.
A single graze of the engorged, slick head, and I tremble. The orgasm slams into me, my juices making a mess of him as I open my mouth on a silent scream. He prolongs it, too.
He rocks his hips slowly through my sensitive labia and over my clit; I’m unable to fully catch my breath as another pulse of pleasure rocks me.
Theo drinks from me in deep pulls, the sensation tickling a little, like an electrical pulse beneath my skin.
The longer it goes on, the more it changes—turning heavy and warm, spreading through every nerve until I feel weightless in his hold.
My pulse slows, sinking with his rhythm, each swallow a heartbeat shared between us.
It’s erotic. Raw. Beautiful.
The world's edges blur as the trees, night, and even the pain melt into a deep, satisfying thrum. His mouth moves more slowly now, reverent, sealing each breath with a low sound that vibrates in his chest. My king is purring for me, grounding and dizzying, the perfect blend of surrender and trust.
I am his. He is mine.
Seconds later, he lifts his head, lips glistening crimson, and his eyes…
Gods, he’s beautiful. They’re the brightest red, full of love and lust, yet the tenderness is there as he takes me in.
I’m a mess and pliant in his arms.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, pretty girl.”
“Theo, I—”
My mate cuts me off with a single, earth-shattering kiss. His mouth crashes onto mine, hard and claiming, leaving no room for a single thought. Sharp teeth clash, his hand gripping the back of my neck now to hold me still. It stings, but Gods help me, the taste of us is exquisite.
I can’t tell where he starts and I end, and just as my hands finally function enough to grip his arms, I’m set down and he takes several steps back. I’m also not given a chance to ask him why, either.
Theodore turns, giving me his back, and begins to count. From one to seventeen, and then pauses, his head tilting as if listening for something. For a few seconds, neither of us moves, and then he snaps his fingers once, the same way he does right before giving out orders.
His aura fills the space, dark and dangerous. The temperature around us drops, the vampiric lands bracing for the wrath of its ruler, and gone is my mate, leaving a cold and deadly killer in its place.
A protective male.
“We’re not alone, pretty girl. Come to me.”