I watched Damon press his bleeding wrist to Delia’s lips.

She drank weakly, clutching his shirt. The sight of them stole the air from my lungs.

But I didn't stay.

I turned and walked away, feeling the mocking stares of everyone in the room.

I hadn't come to the Evernight Salon to socialize. I was here for the Tome of Moonshadows. An ancient text I desperately needed for my next blood prophecy. The only copy was in the manor lord's private library.

I slipped past the guards and into the library.

Moonlight streamed through stained-glass windows, casting strange patterns on the ancient shelves.

The Tome of Moonshadows was on the highest shelf. I stood on my toes, my fingers brushing the spine.

Another hand grabbed it at the same time.

I turned. I was stunned to see Damon and Delia right behind me.

"When did you…"

"Delia has wanted this book for a long time," Damon's voice was cold, leaving no room for argument. "Don't fight her for it."

I tightened my grip on the book. "You know I need it!"

Damon scoffed, his eyes full of contempt. "Your family, the Valeriuses, are all skilled in blood-painting. Why should you get all the advantages?"

He looked at Delia, his voice softening instantly. "Just because you're the pureblood? The 'stronger' one? You've held her down her entire life. Tonight, this book is hers."

Before the words faded, a shockwave of his power slammed into me like an invisible wall.

I crashed against a bookshelf. A dull ache shot through my back.

He snatched the Tome of Moonshadows, handed it to Delia—now healed by his blood—and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Then they kissed, passionately, as if I wasn't even there.

"Damon…" Delia's voice was breathy. "Someone might see us…"

"No one will," his voice was a low rasp. "I've set a ward."

Then came the sound of tearing fabric.

The soft slide of skin against skin. Delia's muffled moans.

I couldn't stand it.

I turned, dissolving into black mist and vanishing from the library.

I had just left the manor grounds when Damon’s form materialized, blocking my path.

He was adjusting his rumpled clothes, the fire of lust still in his eyes.

"For you," he said, shoving a blood-red ring into my hand. "Since the alliance is set, stop playing hard to get."

I glanced down at the ring. It was crudely made, with a flicker of weak magic.

"As my bride-in-name-only, try not to embarrass me."

"Delia is the only partner you truly recognize, isn't she?" I looked up at him.

Damon smiled, smug. "Of course. She is pure and innocent. Not like some people, always scheming."

He gave me a warning look. "You dare to harm her, and I will make you pay."

I couldn't listen to another word.

Without another glance, I vanished from his sight.

Back at the Valerius estate, I opened my scrying mirror. A new post from Delia was glowing gold.

She sat gracefully on a castle balcony, the Tome of Moonshadows in her hand.

But what made my blood boil was the ring on her finger. A “Heart of Blood” ruby. A rare gem worth three gold mines.

I remembered it. It was the final, show-stopping piece at last month's Nightfall Auction.

I looked at the cheap, mass-produced "ritual blood ring" in my own hand.

It was nothing more than a free trinket from the auction house.

I threw the ring into the trash.

Suddenly, a voice echoed in my mind.

I flinched. The sounds they made were a sickening symphony of pleasure.

A man’s low groan. A woman’s soft moan.

"Damon… deeper…"

"My Delia…"

I tried to sever the connection, but their words froze me.

"What are you going to do about the bonding ceremony?" Delia's voice was a purr. "You have to go through the motions with my sister…"

"Before that," Damon's voice was thick with satisfaction, "I will exchange blood with you completely. We will form a true blood bond."

"And your sister?"

"It’s just an act. She wants the Blackwood name. I'll give it to her."

The sounds became more frantic.

Then, Delia's voice came through, clear and cold:

"Oh, sister," her voice purred through the link, cold and sharp as ice. "It feels so good to be truly loved. What does your power matter when you've spent two centuries as a wife in name only? Haven't you had enough of being pathetic?"

Her laughter echoed in my mind, dripping with triumph.

"This time, it's my turn."

I shut down the mental link and collapsed into a chair.

Now I understood. I knew why she was so bold this time.

Delia had been reborn, too.

In our last life, she at least pretended. She and Damon were never so obvious. Now, she didn't even care about appearances.

I closed my eyes, forcing the memories of my past life to surface.

After our bond, my blood prophecy paintings helped the Blackwood clan avoid disaster after disaster.

Their power grew immensely. The clan elders called me the "Lucky Star of the Covenant."

But those same elders helped Damon hide the truth—that he was in love with Delia.

Only the legendary Monarch, Caspian, had sent an envoy to warn Damon.

Not long after, I found the hidden memory crystal.

"Isolde."

Mother's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Monarch Caspian has awakened from his slumber," she said, entering the room. My mother’s expression was a storm of warring emotions. "He was silent for only a moment about this blood bond… then he agreed."

She left without another word.

But it felt too easy. Too strange.

I remembered Caspian waking at this same time in my past life, but we never had much contact.

I chose him because he had spoken up for me once.

If I had to choose an ally for this political marriage, I'd rather have someone who showed me a sliver of kindness than Damon, who would always hate me.

I'd even planned my next move if he refused.

But now…

He agreed. I had to prepare. I would give him the best gift I could.

I went to my studio.

I would repurpose a blood-painting I had long planned. A wedding gift for Caspian.

It was a prophecy painting, one that foretold the way to avert the "Eclipse Cataclysm."

I had originally meant to give it to Damon.

Now, it had a better home.

I pricked my finger with a silver needle, letting my blood drip onto the specially prepared canvas.

Guided by magic, the blood formed complex runes and images.

It took three full days. The painting was almost complete.

I went out to buy the last ingredient I needed, a pigment called "Moon-silver Grass."

Without the ancient tome, I had to rely on this older method.

But the moment I returned, the acrid stench of corrosion assaulted my senses.

I rushed into my studio.

The blood-painting had been utterly destroyed by a powerful corrosive potion. All that remained on the canvas were black, scorched marks.

"No!"

I activated the surveillance magic.

A cloaked figure appeared in the crystal ball.

But the "Heart of Blood" ruby flashing at their neck gave them away.

Delia.

White-hot rage blinded me.

I teleported to Damon’s chambers.

I threw open the heavy ebony doors and found them tangled together on his throne.

Damon was on top of Delia, their clothes in disarray.

Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her soft moans filling the air.

"Delia!" I roared. "You destroyed my painting!"

Damon whipped his head around, his eyes flashing with fury. "Isolde! How dare you barge in without knocking!"

He shoved me aside, pulling Delia protectively into his arms.

"Sis… Sister…" Delia feigned panic. "I don't know what you're talking about… If I've upset you, I can apologize…"

"Don't!" Damon held her tight. "You've done nothing wrong!"

He glared at me. "It was just a painting! What's the big deal?"

"It was a blood bond gift for my new mate!"

Damon sneered. "Your mate is me, isn't it? I accept your sentiment."

My blood ran cold. I couldn't stand his blatant favoritism any longer.

My eyes landed on an exquisite scrying orb nearby.

Delia’s blood-painting skill was weak. Before she could master it, she relied on the orb for minor prophecies.

Now, I grabbed a vial of holy water and, without hesitation, threw it at the orb.

CRACK!

The crystal orb exploded, sending shards flying.

"No!" Delia screamed, lunging for it. "My scrying orb!"

She collapsed, sobbing and trembling as if she'd lost her most precious treasure.

I threw his own words back in his face, a cold smile playing on my lips. "It's just a scrying orb. What's the big deal?"

I turned to leave.

Damon reached for me, but Delia, pretending to be burned by the holy water, pulled him back.

"Damon… it hurts…" she leaned against him weakly. "The holy water… it burned me… I'm sorry, it's all my fault. You should go after my sister…"

Damon hesitated for only a second. His outstretched hand dropped.

"You're not at fault. Isolde is the one being unreasonable."

The destruction of my painting severed the last thread of affection I had for Damon.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, a strange sense of relief mixed with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Tonight was the night I would formally meet Caspian.

A strange flutter of nerves danced in my stomach. In my past life, he was a revered, untouchable ancestor.

I took a deep breath. I had to be at my best.

Even if I couldn't make him love me, I couldn't let him despise me.

That evening, I wore a deep black, gothic gown.

The high collar hid my neck, and dark red lace peeked out from the cuffs.

I was ready to meet my new mate—Caspian.

My feelings were a tangled mess of nerves and anticipation.

I took the shortcut to the Blackwood ancestral castle—a secret passage through the family catacombs.

The moment I stepped into the graveyard, a sickening sound reached me.

Moans.

The wet rasp of skin on skin. The greedy, gulping sounds of feeding.

I followed the sound and saw a scene that would be burned into my memory forever.

Damon had Delia pinned against an ancient stone sarcophagus.

Her dress was torn to shreds, her legs wrapped tight around his waist.

They were engaged in the most primal, savage form of feeding.

Damon’s fangs were buried in Delia’s neck as he drank greedily from her.

Delia, in turn, bit down on his shoulder, letting out a breathy moan.

"Deeper… Damon…" Her voice was thick with lust.

"My Delia…" His voice was low and feral.

Then, Delia turned her head, her eyes locking with mine in a look of pure provocation. She kissed him again, passionately, all while he possessed her.

Her gaze screamed triumph.

See? This is what a truly loved woman looks like.

I fought back the nausea that rose in me and walked faster.

As I passed, I saw a delicate lace glove hanging from Damon's belt.

Delia's.

He was wearing her intimate things like a trophy.

I drove away from the graveyard, making a special stop at the Night Market.

I bought the most precious offerings for the Blackwood elders and for Caspian.

Dragon's Blood Amber, Evernight Roses, Tears of the Stars… each one was priceless.

When I arrived at the Blackwood castle, I ran into Damon at the entrance.

He had straightened his clothes, but a fresh bite mark was still visible on his neck.

"Isolde?" His eyes flashed with greed when he saw the ornate offering boxes in my hands. "Are those for me?"

His awkwardness melted into a smug, scornful sneer.

He reached for them, but I pulled back.

"Have fun in the graveyard?" I asked sarcastically.

Damon felt no shame. "Of course. Delia is the only partner I recognize. We can do whatever we want."

His greedy eyes licked over my neck. "But if you behave… I might 'bless' you with my attention now and then."

"Bless me?" The word tasted like poison on my tongue.

"The Monarch Caspian will be here tonight," he warned. "You'd better not cause any trouble. Just sit quietly next to me. And if you still want to be bound to me, you will apologize to Delia after the feast. For being so unreasonable today."

I let out a short, sharp laugh.

He would soon find out my choice of mate had changed.

I ignored him and walked straight into the banquet hall.

The hall was a sea of gold and crystal. The elders were already seated.

Next to the head seat was a throne that had been empty for centuries. It belonged to the legendary Monarch, Caspian.

I walked straight past the seat saved for me next to Damon.

I sat down in the seat to the right of Caspian's throne.

"Isolde!" Damon’s face changed. He rushed over and sat to my left. "Are you insane?"

His voice roared in my mind through a telepathic link. "The seat beside you belongs to the Monarch! Move, you fool! Do you have a death wish?"

I ignored him completely, smoothing my dress.

"He will kill you!" Damon’s voice screamed in my head, laced with pure terror. "No one sits beside the Monarch!"

Just then, a voice that seemed to echo from antiquity, deep and magnetic, sounded behind us.

"That won't be necessary. I have returned."