Plot Twists Short Stories & Vampire Regret Novels

In the seventieth year of my marriage to Adrian, the whole world still believed we were the most devoted vampire couple alive. In the documentary, he looked at me across old footage that spanned half a century and told everyone, "After I met my wife, I finally understood that even immortality can make you feel there isn't enough time." He confessed his love for me. He said he wanted every tomorrow I had. But that same night, I received a video. In a dim hotel corridor, my husband had a young human woman pinned against the wall, his head bent to bite the side of her neck. She asked him whether he was going home to me that night. Adrian kissed the blood from the corner of her lips and answered gently, "I'm yours until sunrise." Later he knelt in front of me and explained that the woman was only a brief diversion in his long life. She would age. She would die. And I was his only wife, the one he wanted to keep beside him forever. He thought that as long as eternity belonged to me, handing a few nights to someone else did not count as betrayal. But he had forgotten. On the day I agreed to marry him, I told him plainly, I could stand beside him through poverty, war, silver, and death. The one thing I could not accept was a third person entering our marriage. One betrayal, and there would never be a second chance. Adrian did not believe I would really go. He thought seventy years of knowing each other was enough to earn my forgiveness, and he thought we had endless time, enough to start over as many times as he liked. Until I left the divorce papers behind, took everything that was mine, and never looked back. Then a year passed. Ten years passed. A hundred years passed. I built a whole life that had nothing to do with him. And that vampire duke, who would not age and would not easily die, stayed alone in the long night. He could have everything. He would never have my love again.

I was Vampire Lord Bastian’s exclusive blood thrall. My blood was an addiction he just couldn't kick. But six years ago, an accidental blood pact left me pregnant. Yet, he never once allowed our half-blood son, Liam, to call him "Dad." After he blew off Liam’s birthday—again—for his pureblood companion Ophelia, I severed the pact. I took my son and walked out of his immortal life for good. The ever-so-elegant ancient vampire finally snapped. He tore into my empty lab, roaring, demanding to know where Liam and I had gone. But this time, neither Liam nor I would ever look back.

When I was three years old, my twin brothers, Silas and Julian, nearly died in an explosion while trying to save me. The Vampire King happened to pass by and turned them into high-ranking vampires. He had wanted to turn me too, so our family could stay together forever, but they refused. The King's power was too overwhelming, they said-the transformation would be agonizing. So they promised to turn me themselves when I turned eighteen. They spent every last penny they had on an impossibly rare serum-a blood-calming agent that would ensure I survived the transformation safely. But six months ago, they brought home a fifteen-year-old human orphan named Elena. Silas snatched my serum and handed it to Elena, his voice cold as ice. "You're strong enough to endure the transformation on your own. Elena is far more fragile than you-she needs this more." Julian's face twisted with undisguised contempt. He pointed at the door and snarled, "Get out! Don't come back until you learn to share!" I didn't say a word. I picked up the suitcase I'd already packed and disappeared into the rainy night. They assumed I was just throwing a tantrum. They figured I'd come crawling back in a few days. To celebrate ridding themselves of their "burden," they took the orphan on a vacation to the Caribbean coast-the trip I'd been dreaming about for years. But when they returned to the castle two weeks later, they were stunned to discover that I had undergone the Vampire King's transformation personally. Not only that-I had voluntarily signed a hundred-year agreement to join a classified isolation research project studying resistance to holy silver and crucifixes. A century of solitary confinement. I was never coming back. That day, they completely fell apart.

Moments before my Mating Ceremony, the guards shoved me from the altar. I watched, paralyzed, as another she-wolf in a pristine white gown took my place. My mate, Beta Seth, didn't even flinch. He took her hand—the hand of his childhood sweetheart, Brielle. And in that silence, his voice echoed in my head through the mind link. "Brielle is pregnant with a rogue's pup. She's mateless. I have to claim her, give her a home in the pack. It's to protect the child. I won't actually mark her. When this is all over, you'll still be my only one." I almost believed his bullshit. Until I saw Seth's hand stroking Brielle's waist after the ceremony. And Brielle, pulling him in for a kiss. In that moment, my eyes burned, and I was rooted to the spot. Seth thought I'd wait. Everyone who watched me pine for him thought I'd come crawling back, begging him to complete our bond. After all, we were fated mates. I'd been waiting for this ceremony for five years. But they had no idea. I turned my back on the pack and left. The moment that failed ceremony ended, I bonded with Lucian. The most powerful Vampire Prince. Three years later, I came back. Lucian called for a truce with the werewolves—all for me. As his mate, I returned to my former pack lands to witness the treaty. But the first thing my arrogant ex-fated mate did was rip the huge moonstone pendant off my neck. "That's the Vampire Prince's moonstone. He bought it for his blood-bonded mate years ago. Where did you get that cheap knock-off? A street stall?" "Enough with the tantrum. Come back. Brielle's kid is three. You can have a cot in the utility closet and clean up after him. Now take that cheap thing off your neck. Don't screw up the peace treaty." I just stood there, rubbing the sore spot on my neck where the chain had scraped, and let out a quiet sigh. He didn’t know that the moment anyone tried to rip this pendant from my throat, Lucian would feel it. And the only thing that would greet them… was his world-ending fury.

The year I was reborn was the year the vampire war began. The first thing I did was get rid of the pup. My mate's pup. Alpha Lucas's. In my last life, he covered for his childhood friend, Sarah, when she mated a vampire. He took my pure-blood pup and swapped him with her half-breed bastard. They branded me a traitor. Tortured me to death in a silver dungeon. And my own son, brainwashed by Sarah, stood over my corpse and told me to rot in hell. When I opened my eyes again, I was three months pregnant. I didn't hesitate. I walked straight to the witch's hut and drank the poison she gave me. But as the life drained away, I uncorked another bottle: an expensive Mimic Potion. It fakes a pup's heartbeat. It gives off the scent of an expecting mother. Lucas wants a child to take the fall for Sarah's crime. Fine. I'll give him a show. This time, I have no weakness.

Lucius Nightshade, the Original Vampire Progenitor, was ambushed. A rogue hunter on a suicide mission. But my mate, Julian Thorne, and his elite guards weren't there. They were at a midnight masquerade, playing bodyguard for his childhood sweetheart, Lilah. I didn't invoke the mate bond to summon Julian. Instead, heavy with an eight-month pregnancy, I threw myself at Lucius. I traded my life to shield him from the fatal silver shrapnel. Because in my past life, I did invoke the emergency bond. Julian ditched Lilah, teleported to the scene, and saved Lucius. For that, he got a seat on the High Council. He became the Lord of his clan. But Lilah threw a fit because he left her behind. She ran off the territory in a tantrum and got ripped apart by our clan's worst enemies. Julian didn't say a word. But on the day I was due to give birth, he forcibly dragged me into the Sunlight Cell. His fangs grazed my ear, dangerous and cold. His hands shook violently on my shoulders, fueled by pure grief and manic rage. "The Progenitor had so many elite guards! Why did you have to force-summon me? Am I just a stepping stone to you? You don't love me. You just wanted the vanity of being a Lord's wife, didn't you?" "Lilah wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for your damn jealousy! You are going to suffer a thousand times worse than she did!" Then, without a shred of mercy, he shoved me and my newborn into the blazing daylight. I watched in horror as my baby burned to ashes right beside me. When I opened my eyes again, the harsh stench of silver powder filled the air. I was back on the day Progenitor Lucius was ambushed.

“You don't deserve to be a daughter of this House,” my mother hissed, her eyes burning crimson in the firelight. “If you can't support your sister as our heir, get out.” I should have seen it coming. In House Ashenveil, family came first—unless you were me. Vera Darkthorn. The disappointment. My perfect younger sister, Iris, got the love, the title, even Kane, the man I was supposed to bind myself to. I got an empty chapel on the night of my blood-binding. Even the man who had sworn himself to me never showed. So I left. Now I'd built a life among Berlin's underground vampire courts, where power was the only currency that mattered. I'd learned to fight. To lead. To make vampires twice my size lower their eyes with a look. Then word came that Iris was dying, and suddenly my family wanted me back. “Come home, Vera.” My father's voice rasped through the phone. “Your sister needs you.” I almost laughed. After everything? But I wasn't the helpless daughter they'd discarded anymore. This time, I knew how to use my fangs. And when your own blood comes hunting for you, you don't run. You go for the throat.

Three days before my blood oath ceremony, someone planted a silver crucifix in the bridal shop and set it ablaze while I was inside trying on my ceremonial gown. My fiancé — Vampire Lord Damien — had the arsonist thrown into the silver prison, sentencing them to the harshest punishment our laws allowed. I lay in the healing chamber, my body covered in severe burns, refusing to wake fully as the reality of my disfigurement sank in. In my semi-conscious state, I heard Damien speaking with the coven's apothecary. "My Lord, we can still heal her completely with the ancient blood rites. If we wait any longer, Serena will bear these scars for life! You just want Miss Vivienne to be your Consort at the blood oath ceremony. This is cruel beyond measure!" "Let her keep the scars. I'll provide for her for the rest of her life, but if she's healed, she'll definitely cause trouble at the ceremony." "I promised Vivienne that her child would be welcomed into the coven with full honors. Only when Serena is completely disfigured will she be grateful enough to raise Vivienne's child as her own. The scars are necessary - at least this way, she won't dare mistreat the boy." In the corner of the room, where no one was watching, a tear slid down my burned cheek. So this was the truth. The blood oath ceremony I'd dreamed of was nothing but a lie. The blood bond I longed for would be my death sentence. If that's how it had to be, I would give him what he wanted.

In the final year of my bond with vampire lord Saul, the curse of our pact struck, and I was overwhelmed by agony, but my lord was nowhere to be found. He had gone out. He left me to suffer. Alone. When the door finally creaked open the next morning, I looked up through bloodshot eyes—hope flickering like a dying candle. But he wasn't alone. He carried an unconscious woman in his arms, her head resting against his chest like she belonged there. Ignoring me as I curled up on the floor in pain, he first carried the woman to his room and called the old butler anxiously. "Jacinda's passed out. Hurry! Check if she's all right!" The old butler cautiously pleaded on my behalf, hoping our lord could save me first, but Saul frowned and interrupted: "Jacinda is in danger, and I have no mind to drink her blood now. She just needs to pull through herself. Believe me, she won't die. Right now, the priority is to save Jacinda." A frown and a glance in my direction was his only response to the old butler's desperate plea. With my only hope shattered, I clenched my teeth and slashed several long wounds on my arms and hands to drain blood for self-rescue. After a long period of weak convulsions, the curse of the pact finally ended. I lay in a pool of blood, sending a message with my last faint consciousness. "I promise I will leave him."

As the only daughter of the Hawthorne family, I entered an arranged marriage with Adrian, the heir to the vampire ancient clan. Adrian was attentive, gentle, and deeply devoted to me. Until that day. His childhood sweetheart, Elara, became pregnant after getting involved with a lower-class vampire and turned to him for help. To protect her baby from being rejected by the ruthless vampire families, Adrian publicly claimed that Elara’s baby was his. As for me and the child I was carrying, Adrian told us to wait. At least until Elara could give birth safely, he said, he couldn’t acknowledge me or our child. His parents accused me of infidelity, saying I had disgraced the vampire bloodline and dishonored the Hawthorne name. They forced me to terminate my pregnancy. Meanwhile, Adrian was on the other side of the world, caring for Elara. By the time he finally returned, I had already disappeared from his world.

The night I came of age, the vampire prince Damon couldn’t wait to drag me to his bed. He took me with a desperate, wild hunger that lasted all night long. My body ached, but my heart was full. I’d been his blood servant for ten years. I thought he was finally ready to give me the Embrace, to make me his forever. But after, as he held me and talked on the phone with my foster brother, I heard Marcus ask him in Latin, “So, Master, how did my little sister taste? You know how many men would kill to be in your place? They all think she's a goddess.” Damon's lips curled. “Not bad. A little green. Not nearly wild enough for my tastes.” Marcus laughed. “Well, she's been hopelessly devoted to you since she was a kid. Never even dated.” Then Damon’s voice lowered. “Don't tell Serena about Elena. I have to marry a noble vampire like her in the end, and I don't want her upset.” “A little human like Elena… she's just good for practice.” But Damon didn't know I'd secretly learned Latin just to feel worthy of him. Hearing that, I didn't say a word. I just quietly changed my college application from the University of New Orleans to my dream school, University of Oxford.

Before my parents died, they entrusted me to the most powerful vampire clan — the Vanderlooms. I married Jason, the heir, and spent ten years by his side — only to discover he'd gotten his vampire subordinate pregnant. He said I was just a human. That conceiving a vampire's child was nearly impossible for someone like me. That even if my parents died saving his life, it didn't mean I could hold on to the title of lady of the house forever. Vicky said she needed human blood for her pregnancy and demanded I serve as her blood thrall. Jason just watched with casual indifference. He didn't stop her. So I packed my bags and calmly handed him the divorce papers. He sneered. "That trick doesn't work anymore. You want to leave? Go ahead." "Give it a week. You'll come crawling back." But what he didn't know was that I'd already accepted another man's proposal. This time, I was done loving him for good.

I was a human sacrifice, yet an ancient blood pact bound me to Lucian Voss, the most feared vampire prince of the Night Realm. Any pain inflicted upon me would befall him tenfold. When consecrated silver cut my palm, the flesh burned from his hand. When a vampire lord forced poison down my throat, Lucian woke screaming, tore him apart, and burned his estate to the ground. After that, no vampire dared touch me. Until Lucian entered his once-a-century blood sleep. Duchess Seraphina, the pureblood vampire who had desired Lucian for five hundred years, broke into my chamber and pressed a red-hot silver brand against my chest. “A lowborn human sacrifice will never be worthy of our prince.” I watched her bring the brand toward my chest. “If this hurts me once, how many times do you think Lucian will feel it?” Her smile twisted. Then she drove the burning silver into my skin. I couldn’t fight back. I was too weak to even move. Because deep beneath the castle, Lucian was suffering ten times the pain. And when that pain dragged him from his sleep, every vampire in this room would regret ever laying a hand on me.

I married my vampire husband ten years ago and gave him a half-blood heir, abandoning my career as a painter to become a full-time mother. Fortunately, my son inherited my talent. At just six years old, he held his first solo art exhibition, inspired by the theme "My Mother." But he never let me attend, and he never let me see his paintings. My husband said my presence would make Luke nervous---that I should stay home and do the housework as a good wife and mother, and wait for them to come back. I told myself he was just young and didn't know better, that he was only pushing back against my discipline, not truly rejecting me. Until the day I snuck into the gallery wearing a surgical mask pulled low. In the center of the crowd, my husband held our son's hand while tenderly pulling a woman in a red dress into his arms. He turned to the guests and announced: "This is Luke's mother---my wife." The three of them stood together, beaming with perfect happiness. And I---the one who'd stayed up all night setting up this exhibition---stood before the paintings while not a single person recognized me. That was when I finally understood. My seemingly gentle, caring vampire husband had long ago given our son a replacement mother. And I was nothing more than the human nanny who'd served her purpose by producing an heir.

Our blood-oath ceremony was on the horizon. But my fated mate, Darius, told me he had to forge a blood bond with another woman. Livia. He claimed her life force was unraveling. That without his blood, she would fade to nothing. I fought him. But the next day, he moved Livia directly into the Prince's Chambers in the Coven’s castle. That was the suite reserved for the future Prince’s mate. My suite. He tried to soothe me, sinking to his knees, his crimson eyes pleading. “Once she’s stable, I swear I’ll break the bond. You are my only eternity. You always will be.” But then Livia found me. She showed me the fresh, golden mark on her wrist—the symbol of an Eternal Bond. They had already completed the sacred rite. Long before Darius ever confessed to me. My heart shattered to ash. I dragged my nail across the calendar, carving a vicious X over the date that was supposed to be our blood-oath ceremony. Then I opened the encrypted message from the Vienna Coven Academy. “I accept. I’ll leave on the day of our ceremony.”

We were engaged for three years. Yet Kyros delayed our vow ceremony at Hera's temple thirty-three times. The first time, he went to guide his fragile apprentice, Lyris, on her first mission. I waited alone all night by Hera’s sacred fire. I endured the agony of divine punishment. The contract mark on my ring finger burned my flesh to a crisp. The second time, Lyris whined over the comm-stone that she was scared. Kyros dropped my hand without a second thought. He left me to fight a lesser beast for her. After that, every single time we stood at the altar, Lyris somehow ran into a "deadly crisis." Then came today. "We'll have our ceremony, I promise. But I'm responsible for Lyris. She doesn't feel well, so I have to go." He kissed my ear, tossing me a casual excuse, and walked away. Through the comm-stone, I heard him laughing with his friends. "Who cares if I delay it? She's an orphan. Where is she going to go without me and the guild?" I wiped my tears. I swallowed the soul-shredding agony of Hera's wrath. I was done. He didn't know I wasn't an orphan at all. I was a Goddess from Mount Olympus. My only reason for coming to the mortal world was to spend the rest of my life with him. Now, thirty-three divine punishments later, it was time to let go of this pointless romance. It was time to go home. But when I crossed the Gates of Olympus—a place no mortal could ever reach—he broke. He fell to his knees at the foot of the mountain. He even tried to rip out his own Demon Hunter heart with his bare hands, just begging for one last look from me.

The Clan Healer told me that without the vial of Progenitor's Blood, the Blood Blight afflicting me meant I had only seventy-two hours to live. But my husband, Miles, the new Duke of our world, gave the only vial of the precious cure to my adopted sister, Vivienne, the woman I had turned three years ago. "She's in agony from the rejection, Isolde. It's a pain you can't possibly understand." His tone was self-righteous, devoid of any concern for the patch of skin on my collarbone already turning to stone. I nodded, watching as the life-saving, dark red liquid slid down another woman's throat. I accomplished a great deal in the time I had left. As I signed the documents, the lawyer's hand trembled. "Are you certain you want to transfer everything, Your Grace? The territorial rights of a thousand-year-old clan..." I didn't hesitate. "Yes. To Vivienne." My adopted daughter, Lily, the girl I had risked everything to save, who was now forever frozen at the age of eight, cowered in Vivienne's arms, pointing at me and screaming, "Aunt Vivienne is my real mommy! You're the witch who turned us into monsters!" I offered no defense. "Yes, that's right. Be a good girl and listen to your new mother now." The Progenitor's Ring, the symbol of the clan's supreme authority, now rested on Vivienne's hand. "Oh, sister, you're too kind," she sobbed, her sobs a practiced performance. "I'll be sure to protect the family in your stead." I nodded. "You'll run things better than I ever did." I even signed away my control over the Elder Council, a council sustained by my own blood. For the first time in a century, a shadow of complex emotion crossed Miles's face. He stared at me,"Isolde, stop fighting. It's better this way. You need to rest." Yes. On my deathbed, I had finally become the perfect, submissive Isolde they always wanted. An Isolde who was about to turn to dust. The seventy-two-hour countdown had begun. I wondered, when I finally turned to ash,

In the fourth year of my secret crush on James, he sired me. It was only that night I realized the man I had been pining for wasn't just a regular gallery owner and businessman—he was a Vampire Prince. That was also the night I got pregnant with our son, Finn. But it's been six years since we forged our Blood Bond, and he has never publicly acknowledged our existence. He wouldn't even let Finn call him "Father." On Finn’s sixth birthday, he missed the party yet again, choosing to stay by his female assistant Elsa's side. He didn't return until the dead of night, offering a half-hearted, "Sorry, I'm late." This time, I didn't cry. I didn't argue. I calmly pulled out the bond dissolution papers and tricked him into signing them. Then, I took my son and fled back to the human world, vanishing from his life entirely. The usually cold, ruthless Prince lost his mind, turning the world upside down to find us. But this time, Finn and I are never looking back.

The blood-infused elixir I crafted won the top honor at the Nocturne's Gala, but my adopted sister stole it and claimed the credit. She thought she'd won glory, not realizing it was a vampire betrothal contract to the Prince Kaelan—rumored to be impotent, barbaric, and monstrous. When the proposal arrived, my archmage fiancé, to "protect" her, hastily bound himself to her with a blood-mark and took her to his bed. She returned, the fresh mark on her neck a badge of triumph. "Sister, your man is mine now. You turn twenty-five in three days. If no one claims you, the Matchmaking Registry will toss you to some aging, wife-beating rogue mercenary..." She was wrong. I always had a choice. I walked to my parents, who were scrambling to clean up her mess, and declared calmly. "If she refuses to marry Kaelan Nocturne, then I will."

The Blood Moon Feast was over. I was delivering the synthetic blood supplement I'd developed for the vampire lord, Evander, when he suddenly threw me to the ground. "Give it to me... I want you..." His crimson eyes burned with desperate hunger. My face flushed. I thought he finally understood the love I held for him. So I let him sink his fangs into my neck. I let him form a blood bond with me—a human. I wanted eternity with him. But when I woke up, Evander's eyes were filled with shock and regret. It wasn't love. Just an uncontrollable frenzy from his once-a-century bloodlust curse. And now it was too late. A human bonded to an ancient vampire suffers excruciating, soul-tearing pain. To forcibly break the bond? A death sentence. Evander chose to honor it. He owed me—I'd saved his life once in the human world. But everything changed when Odette died. His true love, waiting centuries to bond with him. When she learned of our union, she shattered—left the City of Eternal Night alone and walked into an ambush by rogue hunters. They burned her to ash. When his family brought back the only thing left—a moonstone pendant—Evander's hands closed around my throat. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it? You trapped me in this bond. Then you conspired with hunters to kill Odette. Go to hell and apologize to her yourself!" He ripped the bond from me, tearing away the very blood that kept me alive. A day and a night of agony as my organs ruptured. Then I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the night his curse erupted.