Todos los capítulos de The Vampire King's Mate: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 9

Chapter One I couldn't sleep. No matter how many times I rolled over, tangled in my bedsheets, the restlessness wouldn’t let up. Something gnawed at my chest, something I couldn’t name. But maybe it had something to do with the fact that we were leaving. Leaving their town our town for a place called Frost Town. Secluded. Quiet. Strange. And cold, not just in climate, but in name too. I stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns with my eyes, wondering if any part of me would miss this place. It all started a few days ago… with a dream. Not the kind you forget by morning. Not the kind you can shake off with coffee or a hot shower. This dream burrowed deep, coiling around my ribs and whispering things that made my blood run cold. In it, there were voices. Not one, but many echoing, layered, impossible to ignore. They didn’t call my name. They summoned me. "Return to where you belong… to where your blood calls home." I told my mother the next day, thinking she’d laugh it off.

. IVORY POV There are moments when the world pauses for a second... where time stretches, warping around the confusion in your chest and the weight of someone else’s gaze. This was one of them. Daniel Connor. The name alone sent my nerves dancing, but the man himself? He was more of a contradiction than anyone I had ever met. One moment cruel and unreadable, the next… this. Concern. Softness. Rage, not directed at me—but seemingly for me. Why should he care about my wounds, especially when his circle was the one who inflicted them? My lips parted, words half-formed and stuck in the back of my throat. Maybe he could read my silence, because the smirk curling on his lips was maddening. He leaned in, one hand pressed against the wall beside me as though he were claiming space—not just in the room, but in the chaos of my mind. "Perhaps I get the honor of checking it myself," he drawled, his voice lazy, confident, and laced with trouble. I blinked at him, stunned. "N-No," I man

IVORY’S POV Detention? No, no, no. That word echoed in my head like a curse. I couldn’t afford it. Not with my grades hanging by a thread and my self-esteem already six feet under. What did I ever do to deserve this? The ride home was quiet—eerily so. The taxi driver didn’t speak, and I didn’t dare make a sound either. I just stared out the window, counting lampposts like they were seconds of freedom slipping away. "I'm back, Mom!" I called out the moment I stepped into the house, praying she wouldn't start one of her twenty-question marathons. I bolted up the stairs like I was being chased by ghosts. In my room, I yanked my wardrobe open and began sorting clothes like a madwoman, anything to distract my brain. That’s when I saw them—the suits. "The suits! Ugh!" I smacked my forehead. How could I forget them? Where exactly did I forget it? I mean I had always had limited movements around the campus unless completely necessary so I should be able to find the suits before the gang

IVORY'S POV I just wished they’d all let me be. With trembling hands, I dusted myself off, the remnants of the apple fritter crushed beneath my shoes, my broken glasses tucked into my pocket like a badge of survival. My fingers grazed the fresh bruise swelling near my cheekbone, and I hissed quietly, the sting a harsh reminder of Stella’s wrath. The sharp scent of her expensive perfume still clung to me like a ghost I couldn’t shake. I picked up my warmer and scattered notes, shoving them back into my bag before leaving the shade of the frangipani trees. I didn't glance around, didn’t care to see if anyone watched. Let them watch. Let them whisper. I was past caring. My feet dragged a little as I made my way toward the infirmary. I didn’t know if it was from the bruises or the weight of everything else, but either way, each step felt like it carved more cracks into my spirit. By the time I reached the infirmary door, the hallways were nearly silent, echoing with only the distant sq

IVORY'S POVSoaked. Pathetic. Miserable.Those were the three words that summed up my life as I stood up from the bench, my clothes clinging to me like a second skin and rain dripping from my hair like a leaking faucet. The world felt like it was mocking me—gray skies, gray heart, gray everything. Even the taxi driver had the audacity to raise a brow when I slid into his car like a drowned rat.“Rough day?” he asked.I didn’t answer. Just stared out the window, watching my reflection frown back at me like it was disappointed too.By the time I got home, I was half-frozen and entirely over it. Thankfully, the house was quiet. No Mom. No questions. No lectures wrapped in concern. Just the sound of my own wet footsteps echoing through the hallway.I peeled off my damp clothes, dumped them in the laundry, then dragged myself to my room. Backpack dropped. Sanity hanging by a thread.The suits were still in the bag, staring at me like silent reminders of how easily I’d let myself believe he