Follow
Chapters
Share
Betrayed by her Blood. Claimed by the Night. Novel Cover

Betrayed by her Blood. Claimed by the Night.

(18+ Warning: This novel contains explicit scenes of violence, aristocratic cruelty, sexual content, and themes of blood magic, non-consensual binding, and character trauma.) Sofia Quispe was never meant to be a simple noble. As the supposed pureblood heir to the powerful Abribi Covenant, her fate was sealed in a political Blood Union to three powerful vampire princes: the dominant Zilo Graves, the ruthless Klaus Blackwell, and the ambitious Zack Rivera. This union was meant to secure the throne and unite the kingdom. But during the Ceremony of Binding, the blood doesn't lie. When Sofia fails to Awaken her vampiric gifts, a desperate bloodline test reveals the shattering truth: she is not a pureblood noble, but a disgraced Dhampir-half-human, half-vampire-the product of her deceased mother's forbidden betrayal. In the rigid aristocracy of the vampire world, Dhampirs are considered abominations, a stain on bloodline purity. Renounced by her enraged father, Lord Quispe, and brutally rejected by the Princes who fear political ruin, Sofia is cast out of the Covenant citadel and into the perilous human world, a day-walker with no power, plagued by the maddening Blood Hunger caused by the trio's incomplete Blood Mark. Rock bottom forces her into the shadows of the city, where she works at a supernatural bar, fighting to control the erratic power surges of her cursed bond. When a violent attack by feral vampires leaves her vulnerable, she is saved by Phuwin Montague, a powerful, enigmatic Vampire Sovereign from a rival faction. Phuwin sees not a flaw, but a unique political weapon-a Dhampir marked by a Prince. Drawn into his dangerous orbit, Sofia trains with an ex-military vampire hunter, learning to master her hybrid nature and the dark potential of her blood. But the psychic echoes of the incomplete bond still haunt her, pulling her
Chapters
Share

Chapter 4

LAVINIA QUISPE POV: Fire in the Circle

"Yes, Father," I said, the word a promise to survive.

He looked me over, his eyes traveling dismissively from my desperate face down to my comfortable clothes—dark trousers and a plain blue tunic.

"Could you not have put on something more suitable, considering the solemnity of the occasion?" he asked, his voice clipped with final disapproval.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, refusing to engage. I’m about to be hunted for my life. Decorum is the least of my concerns.

Before he could continue his critique, Priestess Elowen emerged, wearing her usual crimson ceremonial robes. “Go, Daughter of Quispe. Claim your power, and let the Mark own you.”

My anxiety spiked again when I finally saw the Princes. They stood on the shadowed part of the hillside, three of the most massive, towering vampire forms I had ever witnessed. Their presence didn't just command attention; it cracked the air with the same raw electricity that had overwhelmed me during the binding.

They were terrifying, each in his own way:

Zilo's essence pulsed with a pale, silvery-white glamour, a deceptive contrast against the deepening sky.

Klaus's aura was dark, almost obsidian-gray, a deep shadow moving with terrifying stillness and focused power.

Zack's was light gray, almost silver, pulsating like moonlight—but with a cutting, predatory edge.

The entire court fell silent. It was impossible to breathe normally when they focused their gleaming, golden-red eyes in my direction. They were too far to discern their faces clearly, yet the concentrated attention was a physical weight on my skin. In a few more moments, the three of them—hunters tethered to me by a parasitic bond—would be after me.

Pride, hot and rebellious, was the only thing holding me upright. I wasn't just going to collapse and make it easy for the consort who already saw me as a burden to be punished.

I swallowed a desperate breath and reached for the hem of my tunic. With the entire Covenant watching, I stripped off my clothes. My skin felt shockingly exposed in the cool night air, made even colder by the sheer, crushing power emanating from the Princes. My father averted his eyes with a stiff gesture of disapproval, but I didn't care.

I stood naked, waiting.

The full, red Blood Moon finally broke through the clouds, bathing the clearing below in crimson light. It illuminated a circle cut into the grass—the Sanguine Circle, glistening darkly. I didn't want to think about the sticky substance coating the earth.

“The Blood Moon arrives,” the Priestess declared. “Go!”

I ran down the hillside, my bare feet slapping against the cool earth, adrenaline a burning fuse in my chest. When I reached the circle, I didn't pause. I stepped over the edge, sinking my feet into the slippery, warm goo.

The second I was inside, a strong, sharp heat didn't just tingle—it burst through my veins. It was a roaring, agonizing fire that instantly stole my breath and clarity.

I cried out, collapsing to my knees. The air around me cracked and shimmered, and the sound was swallowed by the roar in my ears. I felt something tearing inside my head, trying to break through a wall I never knew existed. The pain was absolute, physical agony, demanding I surrender.

The Priestess's voice, cool and imperious, cut through the searing noise. "Princes! The Rite of Ascension begins! Claim thy Lady!"

I looked up, the pain overridden by a primal surge of panic. The three colossal auras were no longer patient. They moved, fast—too fast—closing the distance to the circle.

My mind, desperate for escape from the fire and the hunters, finally fractured. And in that instant, a single, sharp command tore through the noise in my head, a thought that was definitely not mine.

"RUN."

It was Zack. Raw, urgent, and underscored with a confusing thread of real, white-hot concern that immediately fractured my terror. He is supposed to be the hunter. Why is he warning me?

I didn't question it. Fighting the crippling pain, I scrambled out of the Sanguine Circle, leaving behind the warm, terrible slick on the earth, and ran, naked and desperate, toward the dark, inviting safety of the woods.

You may also like

Faked Death, True Revenge Begins Novel Cover
8.3
For five years, I was the devoted girlfriend of a corporate heir, Alden Stone. He gave me a single red rose every month, a symbol of his love. But it was all a beautifully crafted lie. On our anniversary, I discovered the truth: the roses were named "Gabriella," for the woman he was obsessed with. He didn't just break my heart; he stole my life's work-a revolutionary cancer formula-and gave it to her to secure their family alliance. At the gala celebrating her supposed genius, I confronted him. "Don't make a scene," he hissed, his eyes cold. "Gabriella is pregnant. If you try to expose her, I will personally see to it that your career is over." From the stage, Gabriella gave me a predatory smile, flaunting a diamond bracelet I had designed for myself. My love, my future, my life's work-all sacrificed for his obsession. He had played me for a fool and left me with nothing. So I faked my death. I recorded a video exposing their lies, set it to go viral, and sailed his yacht straight into a storm. The world would believe Katelynn Walls was dead, but I was just getting started.
He Chose Her Over Our Dead Child Novel Cover
7.7
Deidre went to the clinic and learned she was finally pregnant, but her failing heart meant carrying the baby would kill her. Before she could process the grief, she received an anonymous photo of her husband, Danial, tenderly escorting a heavily pregnant woman into a VIP hospital. The woman was his cousin, Daria. Following them, Deidre overheard Danial call her a "sterile decoration," promising to get rid of her while securing a Cayman trust fund for his illegitimate child. The nightmare only worsened when Daria gloatingly confessed to a horrifying truth. Daria had stolen the credit for saving Danial in a fire—a heroic act that had actually destroyed Deidre's heart. Even more sickening, Daria had bribed a doctor two years ago to fake Deidre's ectopic pregnancy, tricking Danial into authorizing the surgery that murdered their perfectly healthy baby daughter. When a grief-stricken Deidre attacked the murderer, Danial furiously shoved his wife to the ground. Ignoring her heart spasms and gasps for air, he threw her out into a freezing New York blizzard to die. Lying in the snow, Deidre's love turned to pure ash as she realized she had sacrificed her body and her child for a blind monster. But she didn't die that night. Rescued by Danial's biggest Wall Street rival, Deidre marched into her husband's office the next morning alongside New York's most ruthless divorce lawyer. "Sign it, or I'll freeze your offshore trust and burn your empire to the ground."
He Chose Power, She Found Love Novel Cover
7.0
Five years after my ex, Clay, traded me for power, we met again at an exclusive summit. He and his new fiancée, Destany, publicly humiliated me, calling me a trespasser and a thief for looking for my son's lost locket. Then, my three-year-old son, Justus, ran to me, crying "Mama!" In a horrifying move, Destany snatched him from my arms. She shrieked to the powerful crowd that I was a low-born commoner who had kidnapped a child of noble blood. The room erupted, calling for my arrest. Clay, the man I once loved, watched with cold satisfaction as guards pinned my arms back. He ordered them to take my son away and deal with me. I screamed that Justus was mine, but my pleas were drowned out by their accusations. How could this be happening? The man who once promised me everything was now helping to rip my child away from me, branding me a criminal. But just as they were about to drag me away, an immense power slammed into the room, forcing everyone to their knees. A tall, imposing figure appeared, his golden eyes blazing with fury. My husband, Damien, had arrived.
His Promise, My Shattered World Novel Cover
9.6
My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.
His Unwanted Fiancée Was His True Savior Novel Cover
9.1
I was standing in five thousand dollars of hand-stitched lace when I received the medical report. My fiancé, Dante de Rossi, the future Don of Chicago, had gotten another woman pregnant. He didn't apologize. He didn't beg. He looked me in the eye and called it a "strategic necessity." "Isobel saved my life five years ago," he said coldly. "I owe her this child. You will raise it as your own. It is the price of the Peace Treaty." He forced me to cancel our engagement photos so he could take them with her. He took her on the vacation meant for our honeymoon. At dinner, he ordered me the seafood risotto, completely forgetting my deadly shellfish allergy, while fussing over Isobel’s water temperature. When I tried to leave, he cornered me. "You are a mob wife, Nina. Act like one. She is the hero who saved me." I wanted to laugh. Because five years ago, in that alley, Isobel wasn't even there. I was the one in the mask. I was the one who stitched his femoral artery and saved his life, risking my own medical license. He was destroying our twenty-year relationship to pay a debt to a liar. I didn't scream. I didn't fight. I simply picked up a red marker and walked to the calendar. On the day of our wedding, while Dante stood at the altar waiting for his obedient Queen, I was already boarding a one-way flight to the other side of the world. I left him nothing but four words scrawled across the date: "Let's break up, Dante."
My Husband Sold Our Child for Business Novel Cover
7.8
In a chilling betrayal, a woman discovers her husband bartered their own child to secure a corporate deal. This horrific realization shatters her domestic life, forcing her into a desperate race against time. As she navigates a dangerous web of greed and corporate secrets, she must transform into a relentless force to recover her lost child. Trust is a luxury she cannot afford while hunting the man who valued profit over blood.