The Name She Wrote in Blood

I was reborn on the day I was meant to sign the blood bond with Mortlock.

"Grace, Isabella is waiting for me. How much longer are you going to drag this out?"

Mortlock’s voice echoed before the ritual altar, sharp with impatience.

I looked around at the ancient stones and the flickering candles. Everything was exactly as it had been in my past life. Back then, I’d signed my name with so much love and hope, believing this bond would be the proof of our eternal love.

I was wrong.

Even with the bond, his heart only ever belonged to Isabella.

In my last life, even on what was supposed to be our first night as mates, he didn’t hesitate to leave me for her.

"Isabella isn't feeling well. Her old affliction has flared up," he’d told me, without a trace of guilt in his eyes. "She saved my life. I owe her."

"But today is…"

"Grace, don't be so petty. Isabella is like a sister to me. As the Prince's mate, you should be more understanding. Besides, we have a lifetime of nights ahead of us, don't we?"

A sister.

What a joke.

This "sister" was the one on his arm at every important banquet, while I, the Prince’s actual mate, was left to attend alone, mocked as a pretty ornament.

This "sister" lived in the room next to his—the one reserved for the Prince’s mate—while I was put in a guest room.

…

I gave way for his "sister" countless times, until finally, in that battle with the hunters, Mortlock missed his chance to save me because he was protecting Isabella.

As the silver stake pierced my heart, he was holding a terrified Isabella, comforting her.

Before I died, I saw him look at me in panic. He stumbled towards me, his eyes shining with what looked like tears.

But it was too late.

"Grace!" Mortlock's voice pulled me back to the present. "The Elders are waiting. What has you so distracted?"

I looked up at the man who was about to ruin my life.

"It's nothing."

"If you have something else to do, you can go ahead and leave," I said.

A relieved smile touched Mortlock's lips, and his gaze softened. "Nice to see you're not jealous of Isabella for once."

"Don't worry," he added, "I'll make up our time together tonight."

He leaned in to kiss me. I instinctively turned my head, and his lips landed on my cheek.

He didn't seem to notice. He just turned and left in a hurry.

I looked down at the blood bond, at the space where the name Grace Vance was written.

In my last life, I signed my name there and handed him my fate.

Never again.

I pricked my finger and smeared blood over the ink, blurring the letters.

Then, slowly, I wrote another name.

Isabella.

The silver quill glided across the parchment, and every stroke was a release I’d never felt before.

"It's done," I said, handing the bond to the Elder presiding over the ritual.

The ancient vampire took the contract and began the incantation. A golden light rose from the parchment, and the blood-red text began to glow.

The bond was sealed.

The Elder handed me a copy.

I watched the name "Isabella" shimmer in the moonlight, and a wave of exhilarating freedom washed over me.

This time, I wouldn't be the sacrifice in their love story.

This time, I would live for myself.