Independence Vampire Short Stories & Countdown Novels

Clarence, the Vampire Prince, fell for me the moment he laid eyes on me. And I fell for him just as hard, just as hopelessly. I accepted his Embrace. The whole dark world knew he loved me more than life itself. He branded the rune of our blood bond directly over his heart. That lasted five centuries. Then I got the video from his new blood doll—a human stripper named Seraphina. She was sprawled naked in his lap, fresh bite marks dotting her throat. Using her own blood, she’d painted a crude sigil right beside the sacred rune meant only for me. And my mate had let her. “Clarence says my young blood is the only thing that makes him feel alive anymore,” she purred. “He says you’re a dead fish in bed, darling Molly. Time for the new generation to take over.” I didn't bother to reply. My fingers were steady as I contacted an ancient witch. “I need a glamour,” I said, my voice even and low. “A perfect human shell. One that will hide everything—my scent, my trail. All of it.”

My stepsister, Chloe, wanted to test the loyalty of my childhood sweetheart. So she drugged him with a lust potion. Then she threw him in my room. I couldn't watch him suffer. He was spiraling into a bloodlust. For a vampire, that's a death sentence. So I gave him the only cure. Myself. When Chloe found us, she fled in a jealous rage. She married a cursed, brutal king—the Lord of Eternal Night. And he killed her. Julian and I were blood-bound, but he began to hate me. He ignored me for a century. Then a rival clan ambushed us. He shielded me with his body. He burned to ash to save my life. Before he faded, he gave me one last look. "If I could do it all over again, Elena," he whispered, "I never would have needed saving." My world shattered. Darkness took me. I opened my eyes. I was back in Julian's room. On the night it all went wrong.

My Vampire fiancé, Vincent, was the powerful prince of New York's most influential coven. He had lived for centuries and was notoriously ruthless, yet he bestowed upon me, and only me, every honor imaginable. But one month before our Union Ceremony, he suddenly insisted on postponing it. The reason was his childhood friend, Camilla, was dying from a rare condition known as Bloodline Degeneration. To repay a life debt from long ago, he wanted to hold a mock wedding with her to fulfill her last wish to wear a wedding gown. I refused outright. It was a flagrant violation of coven dignity. But he pressured me relentlessly, using a supposed ancient code of honor as emotional blackmail. Then, two weeks before the ceremony, I received an anonymous email containing an advanced blood analysis report. Only then did I learn that he hadn't just been preparing a wedding; he had already secretly formed a Mutual Blood Bond with her, a pact that would bind their lives together for eternity. In that moment, I finally understood. My two centuries of devotion to him had been nothing more than a joke. And so, I called off our union and set fire to everything he had ever given me. On the day of the ceremony, I traveled to Europe's Supreme Institute for Vampiric Research in Italy and took charge of the Institute's most secret and critical project. From that day forward, I would have nothing more to do with the noble prince. We were finished.

After Giselle left for Europe, I took her place. I made a blood pact with Julian—the feared vampire lord and CEO of Evernight Biotech. Every night for five years, he pinned me down, kissing every inch of my skin. We became enemies, craving and hating each other. He hated me, believing I schemed to drive Giselle away and stole her place as his mate. I hated him too. Every time he took me, he moaned Giselle’s name. He never even acknowledged me before his clan. Because of my awkward status, my parents—who desperately craved immortality—were mocked by high society. They poured all their toxic resentment onto me. In my past life, on a Blood Moon night, Julian and my parents threw a lavish welcome-home party for Giselle. They left me behind in the unwarded old manor. When rogue vampires broke in, I—a fragile human—was drained dry, along with the unborn half-blood baby in my womb. Meanwhile, my sister was enjoying the blessings of North America's elite. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn. It was the exact day Giselle returned. This time, I refuse to beg Julian and my greedy parents for scraps.

My husband Alaric became the Lord Vampire when his brother died. He inherited the estate and full authority over House Ashford. And Vivienne, Julian's widow. Because I was human, and she could give him the one thing I couldn't: a pureblood heir. "I only need to give her one child," he said. "Just one pureblood. Then I'll never touch her again. You're the only one I want." I nodded. Back then, I still believed him. But when Alaric went from visiting the east wing once a month to visiting me only once a month, I knew he was no longer mine alone. The day Vivienne announced her pregnancy—and the same day Alaric took the Ashford Crest off my neck and put it on hers—that was when I knew it was time to leave.