I was reborn the year the Blood Moon War began.

The first thing I did? I sacrificed my child. The child of my blood-bonded mate, Lord Lucius of the Covenant.

In my last life, he chose to protect his childhood sweetheart, Lilith, when she slept with a werewolf.

He stole my pureblood heir and replaced it with her half-breed mongrel.

They branded me a traitor. In a sun-scorched dungeon, they burned my scarred body to ash with holy light.

And my own son, his mind poisoned by Lilith, stood on my ashes and cursed me to Hell for all eternity.

When I opened my eyes again, the blood ritual for my heir was already three months along.

I didn't hesitate.

I went straight to a witch, and with a potion brewed from my own heart's blood, I ended it.

Then, I put on something else: an expensive amulet of Blood Illusion.

It faked the energy of a pureblood fetus. It masked my true state, cloaking me in the sweet, alluring scent of a pregnant vampire. It even created a perfect illusion of a growing belly.

Lucius needed an heir to cover for Lilith’s crime.

Fine. I’d play along.

This time, I had no weaknesses.

My blood-bonded mate, Lord Lucius, swapped our heir for his precious Lilith’s, then had me burned to ash. I woke up in the past, found a witch, and used my own blood to end the ritual.

I stepped out of the witch’s den, my fingers cold, clutching the amulet that would fake my “pregnancy.”

The void left by the terminated ritual was nothing. Not even a fraction of the pain I felt when Lucius drove a blessed silver dagger through my heart in my last life.

Hate had frozen my blood solid. I no longer felt useless emotions like grief.

The heir that should have been his was gone forever.

The sports car sped toward the Covenant’s manor.

In the distance, Lucius’s Rolls-Royce was parked at the main gate.

He stepped out, a woman cradled in his arms.

Lilith.

She was in a white lace dress, her arms wrapped around Lucius’s neck like vines, looking fragile and weak.

I pulled up and slammed my car door, making sure they heard.

They turned. A flicker of triumph flashed in Lilith’s eyes before she masked it with fake surprise.

"Rhiannon! You're back!"

Her voice was sickly sweet. Revulsion coiled like a viper in my gut.

I walked toward them, my hand placed protectively over my still-flat stomach.

The witch's amulet was already working, cloaking me in the intoxicating scent unique to a pregnant pureblood.

"Good evening, Lucius. Lilith," I said flatly.

Lilith snuggled deeper into Lucius's arms, her eyes fixed on me like a snake.

"Rhiannon, look!" she squealed, pointing to the back seat. "Lucius had a magic cradle custom-made for me! It's the only one in the world!"

I glanced at the cradle. It was carved with intricate spells, absurdly expensive.

"It has the most ancient protection wards," Lilith boasted. "It can keep the baby safe even from a werewolf's claws. Lucius said my child deserves the best."

The best.

The memory hit me like a rush of ice water.

Lilith had returned shortly after I announced my ritual was a success.

Heartbroken, her own blood bond shattered.

Lucius told me he was just taking pity on her. An old childhood friend he had to look after.

I believed him. I even shared my own precious blood supply, meant to nourish my heir, with her.

I had no idea it was a trap. They had been plotting against me from the start.

"Lucius is such a good Lord," Lilith cooed. "Rhiannon is so lucky to be his bonded mate."

A good Lord.

I almost laughed out loud.

In my last life, Lilith and I were brought to the Ritual Chamber at the same time.

I "birthed" a monster with claws and flashing gold eyes.

Everyone said I had betrayed the bloodline, that I had lain with a werewolf.

I remember screaming his name, my voice raw.

I begged Lucius—my mate—to just look at me. To see the truth in my eyes.

He refused.

His gaze slid past me, as if I were already a ghost.

He held up a memory crystal. Its cold light painted my “treachery” across the chamber walls for all to see.

“How could you?” he’d whispered, his voice dripping with a disgust that did more damage than any blade.

It didn’t just shatter my heart; it pulverized it into dust.

The crystal showed me meeting a werewolf in secret, plotting.

With the Blood Moon War raging, the Covenant sentenced me to death and threw me in a Sun-Scorched Dungeon.

They dosed me with faint holy light daily, suppressing my power until I couldn't even turn to mist.

I even started to wonder if I'd been cursed by a werewolf, tainting my bloodline without knowing.

Three years later, Lucius was crowned Prince.

He came to the dungeon, saying he was willing to forgive his "errant mate."

He brought me back to the manor, where I overheard Lilith talking to my son.

The half-breed monster had been hers.

And my own son was complaining about how weak I’d become, wishing I would just die already.

When I confronted them, I tried to run—to expose them to the Elder Council. But I was caught.

Lucius threw me back in the dungeon, and this time, he ended my life with his own hands.

The sharp pain of that memory pulled me back to the present. I stared at the "lovers" before me.

"Lucius," my voice was ice. "A Lord of the Covenant, playing chauffeur for your mistress instead of commanding your armies?"

Lucius’s brow furrowed. "Rhiannon, watch your tone."

"I'm just concerned for the Covenant's future," I shrugged. "With war on the horizon, everyone should be in their proper place."

Lilith flinched in his arms, feigning fear. "Rhiannon, I haven't been well. Lucius was just worried about the child…"

"Of course," I nodded. "The heir is what's most important."

Lucius gave me a long, hard look, his voice edged with a warning. "By the way, Rhiannon," he cautioned, "stop drinking from those cheap blood bags. Your low-grade cravings will taint the heir's bloodline."

The heir's purity.

He wasn't worried about my health. He was worried I'd mess up his plan to swap the babies.

I nodded, feigning obedience.

But the moment I was back in my rooms, I threw a handful of blood-craving suppressants into my mouth.

There was no heir in my womb.

And this time, I couldn't wait to watch them scramble for a scapegoat for Lilith's little monster.

"I'm moving to the northern gothic castle."

I announced it at the breakfast table.

Lucius froze, his knife hovering over a slab of blood-seared steak.

His brow furrowed—the tell-tale sign of a displeased Lord.

"Why? The manor has the best blood-servants and physicians."

"My bloodline is restless," I said, letting a hint of fragility into my eyes. "It's too loud here. Lilith's piano playing, all the parties… I'm worried it's not good for the heir."

The word "heir" changed everything.

It was the most important piece in his game—the scapegoat.

"Very well," he said, his tone softening. He even placed his hand over mine, the cold of his skin making me sick. "You are my Lady, Rhiannon. You require absolute tranquility. I'll have a guard detail escort you."

He was lying.

I saw the relief in his eyes.

Sending me away meant he could be with Lilith without any pretense.

He wouldn't have to worry about me hearing her moans from the room next door.

I moved into the northern castle.

It was remote, surrounded by a dense, dark forest. The perfect hiding place, and the perfect training ground.

I ordered the blood-servants to spray high-concentration scent-blockers around the castle grounds.

The excuse: my pregnancy made me hypersensitive to smells.

The truth: I needed to cover up the fact that I didn't smell like milk and honey.

The next few months were a grotesque one-woman show.

Lucius visited every fortnight, playing the part of the "devoted mate."

But his gifts betrayed him.

For me, cheap blood-plasma products.

But according to the Covenant blood bank records I'd hacked, he'd been withdrawing "First Blood."

A sacred relic that could bring the dying back from the brink of final death.

Its destination? Lilith's apartment, of course.

It was clear the werewolf mongrel was draining the life from her. Lilith was weakening fast.

Staring at the massive expenditure on the screen, I thought of my last life.

I had been on the verge of death, begging him for a single drop of First Blood.

What did he say then?

"It's a strategic reserve for the Covenant. It cannot be wasted on a woman who might be carrying another's bastard."

And now, he was giving it freely to the woman carrying a monster.

I sneered and finished painting the final blood-rune.

A single drop of my essence fell from my fingertip, sinking into the complex circle drawn on the floor with ancient dust.

My body was lighter, my skin paler, almost translucent. But a cold, ancient power was surging through my veins once more.

I was once the Covenant's deadliest Bloodsworn Champion, the only one with the right to challenge the Lord's seat.

For Lucius, I had sheathed my fangs and played the part of a graceful vampire Lady.

Now, the predator I once was had finally awakened.

"My Lady, you're looking radiant these days," said Marcus, the Covenant's physician, during a routine check-up.

He was an old, experienced vampire with sharp eyes.

"Thank you," I replied coldly.

Marcus hesitated, then lowered his voice. "I saw the Lord take Lady Lilith to the Sacred Springs again yesterday. The whispers in the Covenant… they say Lilith is the one carrying the true pureblood heir, and that you…"

He trailed off, his eyes full of pity.

"My Lady, your mother once did me a great service. I only trust what I see. If you ever need anything, I will always be on your side."

He thought I was the poor, clueless wife.

I stood up from the ritual circle, pulling on a silk robe to cover my illusory belly.

"Let them talk, Marcus," I said, picking up a goblet of blood wine. "Lucius is the Lord. He knows what he's doing. As long as my heir is born safely, I am content."

Marcus looked like he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue.

If he knew what I was really planning, his heart would probably stop on the spot and send him into torpor.

I didn't care about Lucius and Lilith.

In fact, his obsession with her was my greatest advantage. It kept him too distracted to check on me with his heightened Lord's senses.

Otherwise, even with the amulet, his Lord's senses might have pierced the illusion and discovered the truth: the heir in my womb was nothing but a phantom.

Six months flew by.

As my "due date" approached, Lilith's desperation became palpable.

That night, the castle doors burst open.

Lucius stormed in, drenched from the rain, his face pale and radiating a sick, frantic energy.

He was in a hurry.

My informant had told me Lilith's water had broken half an hour ago.

The half-breed monster was tearing her womb apart, the pain was killing her.

Lucius needed my "heir" to swap with hers. Now.

"Rhiannon!" Lucius strode into the bedroom, holding a crystal goblet.

The liquid inside was an eerie dark red and gave off a cold vapor.

"My Rhiannon, I know you haven't been well," he said, his voice trembling—not with concern, but with nerves. "Drink this," he urged. "It will ensure our heir has the strongest bloodline."

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.

My sense of smell was sharper than ever.

It wasn't a tonic.

It was a mixture of Powdered Holy Light, high-concentration birthing inducers, and Quietus Flower.

It would force violent contractions in a vampire and leave her weak and helpless afterward—a puppet in his hands.

Last time, I drank it. I passed out on the ritual bed, letting him swap my child.

“It’s for the heir, right?” I purred, taking the goblet.

My fingers traced its cold rim, a silent promise of the chill to come.

He swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the cup as if it held his salvation.

“Yes,” he croaked. “For our heir. Drink it. Fulfill your purpose.”

His fear was a palpable stench in the air, thicker than the storm outside.

Without me, his precious Lilith was dead.

I raised the goblet, the acrid smell of betrayal stinging my nostrils.

I met his gaze over the rim, and for a split second, I saw it: the raw, ugly flash of triumph in his eyes.

He wanted this. He wanted me weak and broken.

“Lucius,” I repeated, my voice a blade wrapped in silk. “Are you sure this is for our heir?”

Lucius's pupils contracted. The hand holding the goblet trembled almost imperceptibly.

He masked it quickly, fear replaced by the typical, offended pride of a Lord.

"Rhiannon, what is that look?" he snarled, using his aura to suppress his own guilt. "I am your mate! Your Lord! Would I harm you? Would I harm my own heir?"

I could smell the reek of desperation on him.

Mate?

I laughed silently.

In my last life, this "fated mate" was the one who plunged the blessed silver dagger into my heart.

The one who hurt me most was never my enemy.

It was you, Lucius.

But I didn't call his bluff.

I knew this poison wouldn't cause permanent harm to a healthy vampire.

It would only induce severe, muscle-tearing cramps.

The perfect prop for my performance.

"Of course not," I said softly. "I'm just nervous."

I tilted my head back and drank it all.

Lucius let out a breath of relief, a savage victory in his eyes.

The poison worked faster than I expected.

Five minutes later, a violent, burning cramp seized my abdomen.

The pain was real. A cold sweat broke out across my skin, soaking my silk nightgown.

I collapsed onto the sofa, letting out a pained groan. "Ah… it hurts…"

Just then, the color drained from Lucius's face.

He clutched his temples—a sign of the old emotional link.

"Damn it! Lilith's in labor too!"

He roared in panic, completely forgetting about me writhing in "agony," and dematerialized into a black mist, rushing out of the castle.

The rain was coming down in sheets.

Lucius’s car tore out of the castle like a beast. In the back seat, drenched, was Lilith.

We'd picked her up.

Her screams nearly shattered the car windows.

"Lucius! Save me! Something is clawing at me from the inside!" She dug her nails deep into his arm. "It hurts! Our baby… we're going to die!"

"Don't be afraid, Lilith, don't be afraid!" Lucius yelled, one hand on the wheel, turning to soothe her, his eyes filled with heartbreak. "I'm here! I swear I would trade my immortal life for yours and the child's!"

And what about me?

I was curled up in the corner of the spacious back seat, pretending to be pale with pain. Lucius didn't even glance at me.

I was just cargo he’d thrown in the back.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the Covenant's private clinic.

Blood-servants were already waiting.

"Quick! Get Lilith first! She's critical!" Lucius roared, shoving away a servant who rushed to help me.

He swept Lilith into his arms and bolted for the emergency entrance.

As she moaned weakly in his embrace, Lilith shot me a triumphant smirk over his shoulder.

I was left alone in the downpour.

The icy rain lashed down, plastering my hair to my face, but I felt nothing.

This cold was a pale imitation of the one that had settled in my soul the day he killed me.

A few minutes later, two servants finally rushed out with a wheelchair. "My Lady, hold on!"

I was wheeled into the Ritual Chamber.

The moment the cold steel door slammed shut, my act was over.

Standing before the ritual table was my physician—Marcus.

He had already sent everyone else away, leaving only his two most trusted servants.

Our eyes met.

Marcus glanced at my swollen belly, his expression a mix of awe and fear.

He gave a silent, firm nod.

Everything was in place.

The minutes ticked by.

The thunder outside masked all the dirty deeds taking place.

Hours later, in the dead of night.

My ward was silent except for the steady beep… beep… of a heart monitor.

I lay in bed, eyes closed, breathing evenly, as if I had passed out from "ritual exhaustion."

But every muscle in my body was coiled, my senses on high alert.

The lock clicked. Someone slipped in.

An instant, nauseating stench hit me.

Wet earth, wild beast, and old blood.

The reek of a werewolf.

The footsteps were light and hesitant, filled with guilt, as they approached my bed.

It was Lucius.

He was carrying a tightly wrapped bundle.

Even through the thick blanket, I could hear a sound that was half-growl, half-whimper.

It was the monster Lilith had birthed.

Lucius held his breath, tiptoeing to my bedside.

His hands were trembling as he prepared to swap this reeking infant for the pureblood heir that never existed.

He leaned in, the monster's face just inches from my neck.

In that exact moment…

My eyes snapped open.

In the dim glow of the nightlight, my gaze, sharp and cold, locked onto his terrified, twisted face.

"My Lord," my voice cut through the darkness. "What are you doing?"