Ten

As the morning sun trickled through the sheer, teal curtains, it painted soft patterns across Autumn’s bed, causing dust motes to swirl like ethereal spirits dancing in the gentle light. The lingering scent of sandalwood intermingled with the distinctive aroma of Tristan’s cologne, creating an intoxicating reminder of the passionate night they had shared—moments of tender lips brushing against warm skin, the murmurs of whispered promises, and the exhilarating rush of blood pulsing with newfound life beneath her flesh.

Autumn stirred beneath the velvety blankets, her body achy in delightful ways that made her cheeks flush at the memory of their intimacy. A dull ache throbbed at her wrist, a rhythmic reminder of Tristan's biting touch, where he had drawn her blood. It was not just pain; it was a memory etched into her very being, an unbreakable connection.

As she pushed the wild curls from her face, she realized the silky black onyx pendant, a cherished gift from her grandmother, rested heavily against her chest. The cool silver setting warmed against her skin, grounding her in the present.

But Tristan was gone.

In his absence lay a crisp piece of parchment, elegantly folded and sealed with a blood-red wax emblem. Autumn’s heart raced as her breath caught in her throat.

With hesitant fingers, she opened the letter.

*You are formally invited to the Masquerade of the Nightblood Court. Attendance is required. Bring your fangs. Or your fire.*

No signature marked the bottom, but the emblem of a serpent entwined within a crescent moon burned into the corner told her everything she needed to know—Jaiden.

---

When Tristan finally returned, the sight of him set her heart aflame; he stood shirtless, droplets of morning dew glistening on his toned skin, tension radiating from him like heat from a fire. Autumn, however, was already clad in her battle attire: form-fitting black jeans that hugged her curves, sturdy combat boots, and a loose off-shoulder top that billowed softly. Her eyes sparkled with determination, their sharpness mirroring the fierce energy that radiated from her aura.

“You knew this was coming,” she remarked, her voice steady but edged with resolve.

He studied her for a long moment, his jaw clenched tightly in contemplation. “I hoped it wouldn’t.”

“He’s calling me out,” she asserted, her voice growing stronger with each word.

“He’s baiting you,” he replied, his expression serious.

“He’s testing me.” Autumn lifted the invitation high, displaying it as a proclamation. “And I’m done letting him make the rules.”

Tristan crossed the room in three swift strides, his hands finding her wrists with a gentle, yet firm grip. “Then let me help you rewrite them,” he urged, his voice a low, soothing cadence.

Gazing into his deep eyes, Autumn felt the familiar spark of their soulbond ignite between them—a connection that was warm, wild, and exhilaratingly real. It felt like an invitation to freedom rather than a set of chains or a cage. A choice.

With a brief yet passionate kiss, she affirmed her determination. “I’m not afraid of my power,” she whispered softly, her gaze unwavering. “I’m afraid of who I’ll become without it.”

The ancient Book whispered against her skin, its presence alive and electric. The pendant around her neck flared with a sudden warmth.

Outside, the wind shifted dramatically, as if the very world awaited her next move.

And far, far away, something ancient and powerful began to awaken, setting the stage for what was to come.