Chapter 1

My vampire mate drained me dry every full moon—not to bond with me, but to feed the blood to the she-wolf who murdered my mother. Tonight, chained to the altar and six weeks pregnant, I watched him press the chalice of my blood to her smiling lips.

"Drink, Serena," Alpha Damien whispered to her, his voice dripping with a tenderness he had never once shown me. "This will complete your Turning."

I pulled against the silver chains. They burned. My wrists were raw and bleeding, the smoke of seared flesh rising in thin ribbons.

"Damien… please…" My voice was barely a whisper. "I'm carrying your child."

He didn't even look at me.

Three years. Three years since the Moon Goddess bound us as Fated Mates, and he had never once kissed me, held me, or spoken my name without disgust.

Because I was a half-breed.

Half werewolf. Half vampire. An abomination in every pack and every coven.

The only thing that made me useful was my blood—a rare hybrid mix that could turn a werewolf into a vampire without killing them.

And Damien wanted Serena turned. He wanted his precious chosen lover to become immortal.

So every full moon, he strapped me to this altar and drained me.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, there was a second heartbeat inside me.

Tiny. Fragile. Fighting to survive.

"The baby can't take another draining," I begged, my vision already blurring. "Damien, you'll kill your own heir—"

"Shut up." He finally turned, and the look in his crimson eyes made my blood freeze. "You're not pregnant, Ivy. Stop lying."

"I'm not lying! The healer confirmed—"

"Healer Marcus works for me," Damien cut me off, cold and bored. "He says you're barren. A half-breed defect. Your body can't carry a pup."

Barren.

The word hit me like a silver bullet.

Serena set down the chalice—my blood still wet on her lips—and let out a theatrical sob. "Oh, Damien… she's trying to guilt you again. She does this every time…"

"I know." Damien stroked Serena's hair, then turned to the enforcer standing in the shadows. "Increase the extraction. Take two pints instead of one."

"Two pints will kill the—" the enforcer hesitated.

"There is no baby," Damien said flatly. "Do it."

The enforcer stepped forward with the silver needle.

I screamed. I thrashed. The chains held.

The needle sank into my neck.

Cold. A river of cold rushing out of me.

I felt the tiny heartbeat inside me stutter.

Then skip.

Then stop.

Something warm and wet ran down my inner thighs.

"No… no, no, no…"

Serena watched from behind Damien, and for just one second, her mask slipped.

She smiled.

And in that smile, I saw everything.

The night my mother was torn apart by "rogue wolves" during a border patrol—Serena had been the only survivor.

The investigation Damien had promised me and never delivered.

The way Serena had appeared in our pack just three days before my mother's death.

She killed my mother. She was killing my baby. And Damien was handing her the knife.

The room went dark.

But before I lost consciousness, I reached into the deepest, most forbidden part of my mind—the vampire half I had been trained to suppress since birth.

A telepathic frequency only the oldest bloodlines could access.

"Lord Kael," I projected into the void. "This is Ivy Crescent. Heir to the Crimson Throne. And I need you to burn the Silverclaw Pack to ashes."

A pause. Then a voice, ancient and dark as the abyss, answered.

"Finally. I've been waiting for you to call, little Queen."