Prologue

The sunlight poured through the tall arched windows like liquid gold, soft and warm against Iris’s skin. For a moment, she stood still on the grand staircase of the mansion, basking in the light that felt too beautiful—too unreal—to be real.

Downstairs, laughter rang out. The whole mansion buzzed with joy and movement. Strangers in elegant clothing passed by, smiling warmly and offering congratulations. Iris blinked in confusion, unsure what she was being congratulated for.

Her eyes landed on her parents—alive, beaming with joy—chatting with Mr. Smith and Kyle, who looked younger, more carefree. The sight warmed her heart.

Drawn like a magnet, she turned toward a tall, ornate mirror at the bottom of the stairs.

She gasped.

She was dressed in an exquisite white gown, delicate lace trailing down her arms and pooling at her feet. A soft white veil cascaded behind her shoulders. A wedding dress.

Before she could react, a hand gently slipped into hers. She turned, and there was Dylan, looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored black suit.

He smiled down at her with quiet affection and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Are you ready, Elizabeth?” he whispered.

The name sent a strange chill down her spine, but she nodded. Somehow, everything felt right.

They walked hand in hand down the aisle. Rows of smiling faces turned to watch them—friends, family, people she didn’t recognize but somehow knew. The music swelled. Flower petals rained gently from above as they reached the altar.

The preacher opened the book and smiled.

“Now, the rings.”

Just as Dylan reached into his coat, a sharp voice cut through the joy like a dagger.

“Not so easy.”

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Heads turned. At the end of the aisle stood Alaric ,eyes burning with fury, flanked by his werewolf pack, their presence dark and violent.

Everything erupted at once.

Howls. Screams. Chaos.

Claws slashed. Fangs bared. Blood splattered the white petals on the aisle.

Iris screamed as she saw her parents collapse beside Mr. Smith and Kyle, all three gravely wounded. She dropped to her knees, sobbing, clutching her mother’s hand.

“Mom! Dad!” she cried, her dress soaked in red.

“Stay with me! Please, don’t go!”

Then—Evelyn appeared. Her eyes filled with tears, her hand trembling as she raised a silver dagger.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I don’t have a choice. You must die for us to live.”

“Evelyn?”

Before Iris could move, the dagger plunged into her chest.

She gasped, the pain white-hot. She collapsed to the ground, blood staining her gown.

Evelyn dropped to her knees beside her, sobbing.

“Forgive me. I’m so sorry. I had no choice.”

Iris’s lips trembled into a smile. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Promise me… you won’t hurt her. Don’t hurt your sister…”

Dylan screamed her name, running toward her.

“Elizabeth!”

He fell beside her, holding her fragile body in his arms.

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

She blinked at him, dazed.

“Why… do you keep calling me Elizabeth?” she asked weakly.

“My name is… Iris…”

And with a final breath, her eyes fluttered shut.

Her body grew still.

The werewolves howled in grief, a sound that seemed to echo through the heavens.

Present Time-----

“Iris…”

The voice was distant. Gentle. Real.

She gasped and opened her eyes.

Light streamed through the curtains. The familiar ceiling of the mansion came into view.

“She’s awake!” Kyle shouted from somewhere nearby.

Iris blinked. Dylan was there—his arms wrapped tightly around her, relief flooding his face. Mr. Smith stood at the foot of the bed, hands clasped behind his back.

“You’ve been unconscious for a week,” Dylan whispered into her hair, his grip tightening.

“A week?” Iris’s voice was hoarse.

She sat up slowly, trying to piece the dream from reality.

Mr. Smith gave her a small nod.

“Welcome back, Mrs. Erickson.”

Kyle grinned.

“You scared the hell out of all of us.”

Iris blinked, overwhelmed—and then her stomach growled so loudly it startled everyone.

“Grrr—”

A beat of silence.

She flushed bright red and buried her face in Dylan’s chest.

“Oh my God.”

Dylan chuckled.

“Still dramatic, I see.”

Kyle smirked.

“She’s back, alright.”

They helped her down the stairs, and Iris gasped when she saw the dining table already prepared. Pancakes, fruit, eggs, even hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.

Mr. Smith placed a plate before her.

“Eat, My Lady. You need your strength.”

She didn’t argue. She devoured everything like she hadn’t eaten in days—which, technically, she hadn’t.

Kyle elbowed Dylan.

“She’s gonna out-eat you at this rate.”

Dylan shrugged.

“I’m just glad she’s eating.”

After the meal, Iris excused herself and stepped onto the balcony with her phone. She called her parents to assure them she was fine and left a series of texts to Zoey, who was apparently spiraling with worry.

Then, feeling drawn to it, she went to her room and pulled out the old diary she’d found in the mansion’s library. The name embossed on the front: “Beth.”

The pages were yellowed with time—nearly a hundred years old. Yet the handwriting was graceful, feminine, and oddly familiar.

Later, she stood on the balcony, gazing at the garden below. The flowers were beautiful, but their solemn stillness gave them an air of mourning.

Dylan joined her, sliding his fingers through hers.

“You okay?”

She nodded slowly.

“I had a dream. A weird one. I was… getting married. Everyone was there. Then… they died. Evelyn stabbed me.”

Dylan froze slightly.

“It was just a dream,” he said gently, brushing hair from her face.

“You’re safe now.”

---

A knock sounded. A tall man entered—the doctor. His features were sharp, his skin pale.

Iris instantly knew. He was a vampire.

He examined her calmly.

“She’s stable for now,” he said.

“But the symptoms may return.”

Once the doctor left, Iris turned to Dylan, her eyes sharp.

“Enough.”

He looked at her, surprised.

“Exactly what’s happening to me? Why did I faint? Why is my appetite crazy? Why do I feel… different?”

He sighed and sat down beside her.

“Because… I marked you.”

She blinked.

“Marked? Isn’t that something werewolves do?”

He nodded.

“Yes. But vampires can do it too—through blood magic. It was the only way to protect you from the werewolves. I didn’t mean for this to happen, but... it was the only choice.”

“So I belong to you now?” Her voice cracked. “Like some magical bond?”

“It’s not permanent,” Dylan said quickly. “Once I find a cure, I’ll release you. I promise. But until then… yes. You have to stay married to me.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

“What if I keep changing? What if I’m not human anymore?”

He looked into her eyes.

“Then you’ll have to give me an heir before you change.”

Her jaw dropped.

“WHAT?”

He grinned.

“I’m kidding—mostly. Vampires don’t usually breed, but… with a little effort and some very illegal magic…”

“I’m still in high school!” she shrieked, smacking his shoulder and running off to her room.

Dylan leaned back, watching her disappear with a smirk.

“And still very much alive,” he murmured to himself.

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