Chapter 1

My husband pulled the car over and told me to get out.

I was his bonded.

I was carrying his child.

And a blizzard was swallowing the highway.

Visibility less than ten feet. Temperature twenty below. Fifteen miles from Ashworth territory.

"Celeste's been in an accident."

Damien Ashworth's eyes never left his phone. His voice was tight with that familiar urgency — the one he only ever had for her.

"I need to go get her."

Ten seconds ago, he'd still been driving. Ten seconds ago, we were on our way back from my mother's grave.

This was the first time he'd come with me in three years.

I should have known it wouldn't end well.

When he agreed that morning, I almost thought I'd misheard. Three years of House business. Three years of Celeste isn't feeling well. Three years of next time, I promise.

And today, Damien Ashworth — firstborn heir of the House of Ashworth, one of the oldest vampire bloodlines on the eastern seaboard — said, "I'll go with you."

My heart had skipped.

Maybe he'd finally remembered I was his bonded. Maybe three years of waiting hadn't been wasted. Maybe I was only fooling myself.

He stood three feet away the entire time at the cemetery. Hands in his coat pockets. Jaw tight — as if grief might be contagious.

When I laid the white roses down, he checked his watch.

When I whispered the prayer, he was texting.

"Mom, I came to see you." My voice cracked. "Damien... Damien came too."

I glanced back at him.

His fingers flew across the screen. He didn't look up.

I swallowed the rest of my words. Three years of excuses, and this was what "showing up" looked like.

"We should go." He pocketed his phone. "Storm's coming."

I nodded, stealing one last look at my mother's headstone. Next time, I promised silently. I'll bring your grandchild.

My hand drifted to my stomach. The news had been confirmed just three days ago. I hadn't told him yet. I wanted the right moment — a time when he was in a decent mood, when he'd be willing to look me in the eyes.

Maybe tonight.

Then his phone rang.

The screen lit up, the name searing itself into my retinas.

Celeste.

I watched him answer. Watched his expression transform in an instant.

"Damien!" Her voice trembled through the speaker — perfectly pitched fear. "My car skidded on the old mountain pass. I hit the guardrail. My knee won't stop bleeding. I think — I think I can see bone —"

His pupils bled to crimson.

His blood surged awake. The predator underneath — centuries of instinct distilled into a single, feral reflex — roared to the surface.

For her.

He'd never looked like that for me. Not once. Not even on our bonding night.

"Where are you?" His voice was urgent, strained, panicked in a way I'd never heard. "Exact location — tell me the exact location."

"The old mountain pass... that sharp turn." Her breathing hitched. "Please hurry. I'm so cold. I'm afraid I'll die out here alone."

The car jerked to a halt.

Inertia threw me forward. The seatbelt bit into my shoulder, straight across my chest.

"Get out."

Flat. Emotionless. Like saying pass the salt.

I turned to look at him.

His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. Hands locked on the wheel. He'd already calculated the distance, already made his choice.

"Damien, there's a blizzard —"

"I said get out." Impatience bled through every syllable. "I need to go save her."

Save her. Of course.

"It's fifteen miles to the estate." My voice was steady — steadier than I expected. "Twenty below zero. I can't —"

"Call someone to pick you up."

"There's no signal."

"Then walk."

Then walk.

I stared at his profile. The face I'd loved for three years. The face I'd thought would be with me for eternity — because that was the promise, wasn't it? When an Ashworth took a blood bond, it was supposed to be forever.

"Damien." I called his name one last time.

He finally turned.

I looked into his eyes — those dark eyes I'd once drowned in.

No guilt. Not a flicker of doubt.

Only urgency. To get to her.

I opened the door.

The wind hit like a wall of knives. Snow swallowed my boots. Cold burned straight through to the bone and settled somewhere deep in my chest, right where the bond lived.

I stepped out.

"Damien."

I don't know why I said his name again. Maybe to see if he'd look back. Maybe to give myself one last chance at disappointment.

He didn't look back.

The car pulled away. Taillights fading into white until they vanished completely.

Like they'd never existed.

Like I'd never existed.

I stood on the roadside. Wind howling. Nothing but white between heaven and earth.

Ninety-nine.

The number surfaced from somewhere cold and precise inside me.

This was the ninety-ninth time he'd abandoned me for Celeste Hargrove.

I started walking.

The blizzard erased direction. Time blurred. My legs went numb. Ice crusted on my lashes. A vampire's constitution is stronger than a mortal's, but not invincible — not when the cold was this savage and I was burning through what little blood I had left to keep my heart pumping.

When I smelled the blood, it was already too late.

The scent cut through the storm — feral, rotten, wrong. Not living blood. Something spoiled.

Three revenants emerged from the white void. Milky eyes. Blackened teeth. Hunger rolling off them in waves — the mindless, insatiable hunger of vampires who'd lost themselves to the bloodlust centuries ago.

I'd wandered into the dead zone.

They hit like a storm. Claws and teeth, a blur of violence I couldn't track.

But I knew where they were aiming.

No.

I curled around my belly. Took the claws across my back. Took the teeth in my shoulders. Let them tear me apart from the outside.

Not the baby. Anything but the baby.

Blood — my blood, rich and red and alive — soaked the snow. The world tilted sideways.

I didn't let go.

Ninety-nine. The ninety-ninth time he chose her over me.

Minus one point. Only one left on my ledger.

And inside me, I was still carrying his child.

Consciousness slipped away. Slow. Heavy. Like sinking into dark water.

I'm sorry, little one.

Mommy tried.

Your father should have been here.

But he never was.

He never would be.