Twenty-year-old Claire must deceive a vampire prince to infiltrate the monarchy and discover their secrets while resisting her desire for him.
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Nothing in my life has ever been easy. Including the mission my family has sent me on.
My sister and...
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Changer (verb) to change; to alter
The ritual took shape around me.
Chanting. Swaying. Words shouted into the howling wind. Beasts snarling and snapping and hooting.
I, an outsider to the ways of the darkness, watched it all unfold, unsettled by the things I saw and heard.
And the one person who vowed to keep me safe—my protector, my mate—stood in the center of it all.
I was alone. And frightened. And unsure of what all this meant.
Bastien told me he was coming to this funeral to pay his respects, but that was never his sole intention. He knew he was supporting these witches as they passed on their twisted black art to another--and kept it from me.
Why? Why bring me here?
There had to be more than not wanting to leave me alone at Chateau Rose because, at least there, I was protected.
Bastien claimed to be a man of responsibility who was obligated by whatever code of honor vampires kept to follow the letter of the law, but was this truly his duty as a vampire prince?
I knew the answer was no. It was not. I'd never seen a vampire at my family's estate helping to prepare the crystals for a ceremony.
Then why come? It didn't make sense.
I pondered every possible reason with my arms hugged to my chest, shivering cold, watching as Bastien entered the casting circle to join Hera and the giant spider sitting on her shoulder.
The witch was beautiful in a terrifying way, with her long, pointed black nails, and blood red lips. More than a prickle of jealousy raced through me when they clasped hands.
Bastien glanced down at her and gave a nod. She smiled up at him with a wicked grin I was confident I could never replicate.
I hated all of this. Everything. Every second. The witches and this ritual and the whiskey tea. They were all reminders that I didn't fit in anywhere. Not with Bastien and his beloved dark witches and not with my family.
I didn't fit anywhere. Even though a part of me, the dark part that Bastien had awoken with his kisses and his hands and his whispered promises, had hoped I could fit in with him.
Clearly, there were things about the vampire prince I didn't know, like who he was before he became a vampire prince of the House Allard.
The vision he showed me made me believe he wasn't born a vampire, like his niece and nephew but was made into one through a blood-drinking ritual.
What was I missing?
I clapped a hand over my mouth as I realized the truth.
Bastien was a witch—a dark witch. He must've been.
