Pin should have been worrying about her future as she stood at the edge of the Alpha King’s grand hall, watching the celebration unfold in a blur of firelight and music. After tonight, once her youngest sister completed the mating bond, she would have no purpose left. Six sisters guided into advantageous matches. And now what?
But all she could think about was the child. A little boy, perhaps five years old, huddled in the corner with his knees drawn up to his chest. He wasn’t throwing a tantrum or wailing loudly, just sitting utterly still, occasional silent tears tracking down his pale cheeks. “Perhaps he’s ill,” a noble woman suggested, eyeing the pale boy.
“Or possessed,” her companion muttered. Something painful twisted in Pin’s chest. Eighteen years ago, she had felt life quicken in her womb. Had imagined holding her own son or daughter, soothing their tears, guiding their steps.
All those dreams had died along with the child she’d carried for only five precious months. She would never be a mother. And now, seeing this small boy suffering without one by his side, Pin dug her nails into her palm and called to a passing maid. “Excuse me.
Could you please attend to that child? He seems distressed. ”
But when the maid glanced in the direction Pin indicated, her expression shifted from polite deference to tense weariness. “My lady, don’t look at that one in the eye,” she whispered urgently.
“I beg your pardon? ” Pin blinked in confusion. The maid leaned closer. “Don’t you know what that is?
” she hissed. “It’s a child,” Pin said. “A vampire child. One of Lord Drystan’s brood.
”
Pin looked back at the boy with new understanding. She’d heard the vampires would be attending tonight. Lord Drystan, in particular, was a distant relative of the Alpha King. The ladies of the court had whispered about little else all evening.
“They say he’s the most beautiful creature ever to walk the earth,” one had sighed behind her fan. “And the most dangerous,” another had added. “One bite and you’re addicted forever. ”
Looking at the small figure in the alcove, Pin found it hard to conjure any fear.
“He’s just a little boy,” she said firmly, giving the maid a reproachful look. The woman’s face hardened. “He could be a hundred years old for all we know. They don’t age.
”
“A hundred-year-old unable to stop crying while clutching a toy? ” Pin asked skeptically. The maid shrugged. “Plenty of nannies and maids have tried tending to it already.
The child just won’t stop crying. ”
Her tone carried a dismissive edge that ignited something protective in Pin’s chest. “Perhaps he needs kindness, not service,” she said coldly. The maid retreated, leaving Pin alone with her indignation.
She dug her nails deeper into her palms, feeling the sharp sting as skin broke. She tried to look away from the child, to focus on her sister’s ceremony, but her gaze kept returning to the alcove. The boy had grown quieter, his small body curled tighter as though trying to disappear entirely. Before she could question herself, Pin crossed the floor and knelt beside the alcove.
“Hello,” she said gently. The child’s head jerked up, eyes wide with alarm. Up close, his beauty was startling. Skin like fresh snow, dark curls falling across his forehead, and eyes an impossible blue.
“I’m Pin,” she continued, keeping her voice soft. “What’s your name? ”
For a long moment, he said nothing, just tensed, pressing himself further into the corner. Then, “Finley,” he murmured.
“It’s nice to meet you, Finley. ” Pin smiled. “How old are you? ”
“Five,” he whispered, the word catching on a suppressed sob.
The stunned surprise in his expression broke her heart. How long had it been since someone had simply spoken to him, treated him like a child rather than a creature to be feared? Pin reached toward him, offering comfort, when she noticed his gaze drop to her palm. Blood still beaded in the small crescent wounds where her nails had dug too deep.
The boy’s eyes widened, pupils dilating slightly as he stared at the crimson drops. Understanding dawned. “Are you hungry, Finley? ” Pin asked gently.
He shook his head fiercely, still facing away from her. The gesture touched something maternal in Pin’s soul. Even starving, the child was trying to resist his nature. “It’s okay,” she said, extending her blooded palm toward him.
“My wound is closing right now anyway. Shifters heal quickly. ”
Finley glanced back, conflict evident in his eyes. “I’m offering,” Pin said.
After another moment’s hesitation, the child inched closer. Pin remained perfectly still as he took her hand in his small, cool fingers and brought it to his lips. Finley’s entire body relaxed as he licked, the tension melting from his small shoulders. Pin’s free hand moved to stroke his dark curls, her eyes filling with unexpected tears.
In this strange moment, she felt like a mother for the first time in eighteen years. But then, near them, came a voice. “What have you done? ”
It was soft as winter wind, yet somehow filling the alcove completely.
The sound of it froze them both. Pin looked up to see a man with golden curls framing features so perfect they seemed sculpted rather than born, staring at her hand with absolute horror. A vampire, unmistakably. And from the way Finley tensed against her side, someone the child knew well.
“What have you done? ” the man repeated, his melodic voice shaking. Pin instinctively tightened her arm around Finley. “I was just—he was hungry, and I—”
“You let him feed from you.
” The vampire’s gaze dropped to Finley’s small face, still pressed against her hand. “He was starving,” Pin said, defensive. “He’s just a child. ”
“He’s a vampire,” the man interrupted, his voice low and urgent.
He moved closer, not threatening, but concerned, his eyes never leaving Finley. “And you’ve just condemned him to something far worse than hunger,” he murmured. An hour later, a servant led Pin away from the revelry of the mating ceremony into a quieter wing. The sounds of celebration faded until only the echo of her heartbeat remained.
They reached an ornately carved door guarded by two figures wearing the insignia of the Northern Territories. “Lord Drystan awaits you, my lady,” the servant murmured. The private chamber beyond was bathed in shadow and firelight, a sitting room appointed with darkwood furniture. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” she heard as she entered.
Pin startled. She hadn’t heard Lord Drystan move at all. Up close, his beauty was almost painful to behold—golden curls framing a face that belonged in cathedral paintings. But beauty wasn’t the right word for features so perfect they seemed carved rather than born.
“Please sit,” he said, and something in that voice beckoned. “Is Finley all right? ” she asked, remembering why she was here. “He’s sleeping now,” the lord said, taking the chair opposite her.
“I thought vampires didn’t sleep,” Pin said. “Eventually, we don’t,” he acknowledged. “But Finley was only turned six months ago. He still retains some human habits, sleep among them.
”
“Six months,” Pin echoed. “So he really is five years old, then. Not older. ”
“Yes.
He is, in every meaningful way, still a child. ” A shadow passed across Lord Drystan’s features. “That’s the tragedy of child vampires,” he murmured. “They’re trapped forever in bodies that will never grow.
”
His voice caressed each word with such melancholy that Pin had to resist the urge to reach across and touch his hand in comfort. “And you found him? ” she asked instead. “I try to find them all now,” he said simply.
“The children. ”
“Why? ”
“Because without guidance, newly turned vampire children are a danger to others and to themselves. I try to give them a chance at some version of life.
Providing sanctuary. Teaching them to drink animal blood. ”
His gaze never left her face as he spoke. The intensity of his attention was both thrilling and unnerving.
“Which brings me to our current situation. ” Something changed in his expression, a predatory stillness that reminded her what he truly was beneath the beauty. “May I ask who you are, that you thought it wise to feed a vampire child without permission? ”
Pin bristled.
How could anyone deny a child in distress? “I’m Lady Leila’s sister,” she replied. “And her chaperon. ”
“A position that ends with tonight’s ceremony, I presume.
”
“You presume right, my lord,” she admitted. “Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply. It’s only relevant to what I must discuss with you.
”
“Which is? ”
“The blood you gave Finley. ” His voice dropped lower. “I’m afraid you’ve placed yourself and him in a delicate position.
”
Pin frowned. “It was only a small taste. Surely it can’t harm him. ”
“You don’t understand what blood does to a newly turned vampire.
” Lord Drystan rose in one fluid motion. “Finley was already struggling more than the others with the animal blood diet. Now that he’s tasted human blood, I’m afraid he’ll develop a craving for it. For yours specifically.
”
A chill settled in Pin’s stomach. “What does that mean? ”
“He’ll likely begin to crave only your blood,” the vampire lord said. “Nothing else will satisfy him.
Not animal blood, not even other human blood. Only yours. ”
“From just one taste? ” Pin asked, alarmed.
He moved closer, each step as graceful as a stalking panther, until he stood before her chair. Looking up at him, Pin felt small, vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated. “From just one taste. Yes,” he confirmed.
“If that happens and he cannot feed from you again, he’ll waste away. ”
“You mean he’ll die? ” Pin whispered. “Yes.
And it will be excruciating. ”
The weight of what she’d done pressed against Pin’s chest. That sweet child suffering because of her thoughtless kindness. “Then I’ll let him feed from me again,” she said firmly, rising to her feet.
For a moment, Lord Drystan’s perfect composure slipped. Something flickered across his features—admiration, perhaps even respect. Then his expression darkened, concern replacing surprise. “A noble impulse, but dangerous.
He wouldn’t be able to control himself. He’d take too much too quickly. He could kill you without meaning to. ”
“I could fight him off.
I’m a shifter. We’re stronger than vampires. ”
“You wouldn’t want to,” he countered simply, and the softness in his voice sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “I can’t just let him suffer,” she said, frustration edging her voice.
“There must be something we can do. ”
Lord Drystan was silent for a long moment, the firelight dancing across his features. “There is a solution,” he said eventually, “though it’s not without complications. ”
“Tell me,” Pin urged.
“A blood bond,” he said carefully. “But not with Finley. With me. ”
Pin’s heart skipped a beat.
“With you? ”
“When a vampire forms a blood bond with a mortal, that mortal becomes undesirable to other vampires. Their blood no longer appeals. If you formed a blood bond with me, Finley would no longer crave your blood.
The bond acts as a natural deterrent. I would perform a ritual, a single feeding that establishes the bond. After that…” He hesitated. “You would need to come north with me, to my estate beyond the frost line.
I would need to feed from you occasionally to maintain the bond, but minimally. ”
“You would drink my blood,” Pin said bluntly. “Yes. But I have excellent control.
You would be in no danger from me. ”
Pin turned away, trying to process the enormity of his request. “I also need a nanny for my children,” Lord Drystan added. “I have four in total, including Finley.
Bonded to me, you would be protected from them. They wouldn’t crave your blood. ” He turned toward the window. “You’re a shifter, another supernatural being who could match their speed and senses.
They see so few people apart from me. It would be good for them to have someone else. ” He glanced back at her. “I would compensate you generously, of course.
”
Pin stepped away, needing distance to think. “What you’re suggesting is that I leave my home, form a blood bond with you—essentially becoming your food source—and care for your vampire children. ”
“This would merely be a solution to protect Finley,” Lord Drystan admitted. “The bond is not ownership.
It’s protection primarily, and the feeding would be minimal. But perhaps you have children of your own waiting at home,” he asked when she didn’t reply. “A mate? ”
The question pierced her heart.
“No,” she said. “I can’t bear children. ”
Heat rushed to her face at the admission. Why had she told him that?
But then she met his eyes once more, and for the first time, true emotion crossed his perfect features. “Well,” he murmured, his voice quiet. “I have enough for both of us. ”
The unexpected gentleness made her throat tighten.
Pin looked out at the night sky, weighing her options. To stay here, returning to an empty life without purpose, or to go north with this strange, beautiful creature and be needed again? “When would we leave? ” she asked.
Lord Drystan’s perfect features registered subtle surprise. Then he bowed, a gesture both courtly and ancient, and Pin felt herself falling into a story much older and darker than she had ever imagined. The journey north took three days. As they traveled, the landscape transformed—lush forests giving way to sprawling moors, then finally to snow-dusted pines that stood against the darkening sky.
Pin had never ventured this far from the packlands before. The reality of walking willingly into a vampire’s den became increasingly clear. Lord Drystan rode beside her carriage on a midnight black stallion, seemingly impervious to the cold. Finley traveled inside with Pin, curled against her side for the first day.
By the second day, he’d begun speaking in hesitant whispers. On the third day, he’d fallen asleep with his head in her lap, his small hand clutching her dress. “We’re approaching the estate,” Lord Drystan announced, appearing at the carriage window. “You’ll see it once we crest the next hill.
”
And then she did. The mansion sprawled across the hillside, all towering spires and sweeping archways, its windows glowing with amber light against walls of weathered stone. “It’s beautiful,” Pin whispered. Lord Drystan’s perfect lips curved slightly.
“It can be,” he said enigmatically. The carriage followed a winding path through iron gates and up to massive doors carved with raven motifs. A tall, severe-looking woman stood in the doorway, her gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. “Mrs.
Graves,” Lord Drystan greeted her. “This is Lady Pin. She will be taking over the children’s care. ”
The housekeeper’s eyes swept over Pin.
“Very good, my lord. The children await in the east drawing room. ”
Finley’s small hand slipped into hers as they approached a set of doors. “Helen doesn’t like new people,” he whispered.
“But don’t worry, I’ll protect you. ”
The innocence of his offer—this tiny vampire child promising to protect her—nearly brought tears to her eyes. Three children turned toward them—two girls and a boy, each impossibly beautiful, each regarding her with varying degrees of curiosity and wariness. “Children,” Lord Drystan said, “this is Lady Pin.
She will be your new governess. ”
The oldest girl, clearly Helen, straightened in her chair, her dark curls framing a face that would have been angelic if not for the cool disdain in her eyes. “A governess? ” she asked, her voice sweet despite her sharp words.
“We don’t need one. ”
The boy bounded forward, interrupting. “You’re a shifter! ” he exclaimed, circling Pin with fascination.
“Can you turn into a wolf right now? ”
“Adam,” Lord Drystan warned. “Soon,” Pin offered with a smile. “After I’ve had a chance to settle in.
”
The youngest girl hung back, half hidden behind a settee. Finley tugged at Pin’s hand. “That’s my sister,” he whispered. “She’s shy.
”
Pin knelt to the child’s level. “Hello, Veronica,” she said gently. Slowly, the little girl emerged, a porcelain doll clutched to her chest. “Do you know how to braid hair?
” she asked, her voice barely audible. “I’d be happy to help with your doll’s hair,” Pin answered warmly. Helen scoffed. “Learn to braid your own hair, Veronica.
This girl’s mortal. She’ll be gone before you know it. ”
“Helen,” Lord Drystan’s voice sharpened. “That’s enough.
Children,” he said firmly, “Lady Pin has traveled a long way. Mrs. Graves will show her to her chambers, and tomorrow you will all demonstrate the excellent manners I know you possess. ”
Three reluctant nods answered him.
Only Finley remained pressed against Pin’s side, his eyes now fixed on her throat with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine. “Finley,” Lord Drystan called softly. The boy startled, then backed away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Lord Drystan’s expression softened. “We will resolve this tonight,” he promised, then turned to Pin. “After you’ve rested. There’s no rush.
”
But she caught the concern in his eyes. There was a rush, and they both knew it. A few hours later, a sharp knock came at her door. She opened it to find Lord Drystan, his features taut with concern.
“My apologies for disturbing you. But there’s been a development with Finley. ”
A cold weight settled in Pin’s stomach. “What’s happened?
”
“Mrs. Graves found him trying to enter your chambers while you were bathing. ” Lord Drystan’s pale eyes held a gravity that sent a chill down her spine. “His hunger for your blood is growing more rapidly than I anticipated.
He’s become fixated. ”
“Is he all right? ” Pin asked, instinctively stepping forward. Lord Drystan caught her arm, his touch cool through the fabric of her sleeve.
“He’s being watched. But either we must move forward with the blood bond now, or you must leave by morning. If we wait…” He hesitated. “I’m afraid it will be too dangerous for both you and Finley.
”
The implication hung in the air between them. Finley, sweet as he was, could become dangerous in his hunger. Pin took a breath. She’d come here for him.
But she’d been warned. Her new position came at a price, one meant to keep both her and her charges safe. “Then we should do it now,” Pin said. Lord Drystan studied her face.
“You understand what this means? Once bound, the connection between us cannot be undone. You will be tied to me until one of us dies. ”
“I understood that when I agreed to come here,” Pin nodded.
“I won’t abandon that child to suffering because I’m afraid. ”
“Very well,” he said softly before entering her room. He closed the door behind them, the sound of the lock turning strangely final. “Are you ready?
” he asked softly. Pin was struck anew by his otherworldly beauty—golden hair gleaming in the firelight. “Yes,” she whispered. “The bond requires a ritual,” the lord explained, moving closer, each step so graceful it seemed he floated across the floor.
“In vampire culture, it is comparable to a mating among your kind, though traditionally less emotional in nature. ”
“You’re saying we’ll be married? ” Pin asked, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe. “In a manner of speaking,” the vampire replied, not cold, but matter-of-fact.
“Does that change your decision? ”
His blue gaze was impenetrable as Pin considered, her pulse fluttering beneath her skin. This was more than she had expected. More intimate.
“No,” she said finally. “My decision stands. ”
Lord Drystan nodded. “Then come to me,” he instructed.
The command in his voice made her shiver, but not with fear. When she stood before him, close enough to feel the unnatural coolness radiating from his body, Lord Drystan reached for her hand. “I need access to your throat,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “The bond must be formed through a proper feeding.
”
Pin’s heart thundered in her chest. “You mean—? ”
“Yes. ” His cool fingers brushed her collarbone, trailing up to her pulse point.
“I will drink directly from you. I need you to remove your shawl,” he said quietly. Pin’s fingers trembled as she unwound the silk from her shoulders, letting it fall to a nearby chair. “Your hair,” he murmured.
“If you would. ”
Understanding, Pin pulled the pins from her dark tresses, letting them cascade over one shoulder, exposing her neck. “Come closer,” he said, his voice rougher than before. Pin moved forward until they stood chest to chest.
“Are you afraid? ” he asked. “Yes,” she admitted. “But not enough to change my mind.
”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. Then his hands were at her waist, drawing her closer. One hand slid up her back to cradle her head, angling it to expose her throat. His other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly against him.
She felt his lips first—cool against her heated skin, exploring the curve of her neck with feather-light touches. Her pulse jumped beneath the contact. “Try to relax,” he whispered gently, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “It will be easier.
”
Pin closed her eyes, trying to slow her racing heart. Lord Drystan’s lips returned to her throat, his arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against him. Then his mouth opened against her skin, and Pin felt the sharp press of fangs. One heartbeat of anticipation, her body tensing, and then his teeth sank into her flesh.
For one terrible moment, there was only pain—sharp and insistent, her pulse pounding in her ears. Lord Drystan made a low sound against her neck. She felt him swallow, the slight movement sending another spike of pain through her. And then warmth bloomed from the bite, radiating outward in waves that swept through her body.
The pain receded, replaced by a sensation so foreign and overwhelming that Pin couldn’t suppress a startled moan. It wasn’t simply pleasure. It was a liquid heat that flowed through her veins, making her limbs heavy and her mind hazy. Lord Drystan’s hold shifted, one hand sliding down to her lower back, pressing her closer as he took the first deep pull of blood.
The sensation of him drawing from her—the rhythmic pull and gentle suction—made her knees buckle, and she sagged against him, relying entirely on his strength to remain upright. His chest rumbled against hers, a primal, hungry sound that vibrated through both their bodies. She felt him take another swallow, stronger, more urgent, and each pull of his mouth intensified the pleasure until she was trembling in his arms. Images flashed behind her closed eyelids—fragments of memories that weren’t her own.
Moonlight on snow-covered mountains. Children laughing in a garden she’d never seen. Were these his memories, or hallucinations? She didn’t know.
All that mattered was the exquisite sensation coursing through her. Her head fell back further, offering more of herself to him, her body arching into his. Time lost meaning. There was only sensation—his mouth at her throat, the spreading warmth that made her feel both weightless and impossibly heavy.
And then, abruptly, he pulled away. The sudden loss left Pin gasping, disoriented. She swayed dangerously, and Lord Drystan’s arms were the only thing keeping her upright. His eyes had darkened to midnight blue, pupils so dilated barely any color remained.
“It’s done, Pin,” he rasped, her name on his lips sending a shiver through her. She tried to respond, but her tongue felt too heavy. Her body felt unbearably empty without his teeth in her skin. “Please,” she managed, reaching for him, though she wasn’t certain what she was asking for.
The world spun alarmingly. “I need to lie down,” she admitted. Without hesitation, Lord Drystan swept her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “It’s natural to feel drowsy.
The bond takes time to settle. ”
Pin’s head lolled against his shoulder. “You smell so good,” she murmured, her nose pressed against his throat. Lord Drystan’s step faltered briefly.
“That’s the venom talking,” he said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Venom? ” she echoed, the word slurring slightly. He nodded.
“When vampires feed, we release a venom that affects our prey. ” His eyes searched her face. “But you’re a shifter. You should have been resistant.
”
Understanding penetrated the haze in Pin’s mind. The pleasure, the euphoria. It wasn’t real. Just a chemical reaction designed to make prey easier to feed upon.
“I didn’t think it would affect you like this,” he continued, his voice strained. Lord Drystan laid her gently on the bed, arranging a blanket over her. The loss of his touch left her whimpering. “Stay,” she pleaded, catching his hand.
Lord Drystan closed his eyes briefly, as if in pain. “That’s not you speaking,” he said quietly. “Besides, if I fed from you again tonight…” He hesitated. “I’m not certain I could stop.
”
“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered. Lord Drystan carefully extracted his hand from hers. “You should, though,” he said as he closed the door behind him. Her last coherent thought was that for the first time in eighteen years, she had felt truly alive.
How strange that it took a creature of death to awaken her. Pin woke to sunlight streaming through freshly opened curtains. Memory flooded back. The journey north.
The children. And most vividly, Lord Drystan’s mouth on her throat. Her fingers found only smooth skin. Shifter healing had erased all evidence, though a lingering warmth remained.
She dressed and met with Mrs. Graves, who handed her a sealed letter from Lord Drystan. “The children await you in the nursery,” the housekeeper informed her. Pin opened the letter.
*Lady Pin,*
*I must apologize for my absence. Urgent business calls me away until nightfall. The children will benefit from your guidance today, particularly Adam, who grows restless without activity. *
*As for our arrangement, I assure you, we need not repeat last night’s complications.
A simple cut will suffice to maintain our bond. *
*Until then, consider this manor your home. *
*Drystan*
His clinical description left her with mixed feelings—relief at establishing boundaries, yet disappointment too. “You’re doing it wrong,” Helen declared two hours later, watching Pin place the last card on their structure.
“It needs to lean inward, or it will collapse. ”
From across the nursery came a crash, followed by Adam’s triumphant shout. “Look how high mine is. ”
“Was,” Veronica corrected softly.
Adam laughed, gathering cards for another attempt. His energy seemed boundless, exactly as Lord Drystan had warned. Finley sat closest to Pin, methodically building his own structure. Occasionally, his eyes would dart to her throat, then quickly away.
The day passed in a pleasant blur—riding across snow-dusted fields, a formal tea, and a reading hour before the hearth. “Will you come back tomorrow? ” Veronica asked, tugging at Pin’s skirt as Mrs. Graves came to collect the children.
“Of course,” Pin promised. “I live here now, remember? ”
The little girl smiled shyly. “Good.
You braid hair better than Mrs. Graves. ”
Even Helen managed a stiff nod of farewell. Progress.
Exhaustion claimed her quickly that night. She had just drifted off when the subtle shift in the air woke her. A coolness that hadn’t been there before. Pin’s eyes fluttered open to find pale blue eyes looking at her from across her bed.
“My lord,” she whispered, sitting up. Drystan didn’t answer. Instead, he moved closer, settling on the edge of her bed. “I’ve been waiting all day,” he murmured, his voice deeper than she remembered.
“Just for one taste of you. ”
Pin’s heart thundered. “You have? ”
Something hungry flashed in his eyes as he leaned closer.
“Every moment away from you has been…” His cool fingers traced her throat, then her collarbone. “Torturous. ”
His other hand found her thigh through the blanket, the coolness seeping through the fabric. “May I?
” he whispered against her throat, his lips ghosting over her pulse. She nodded. His lips pressed against her skin—not biting, just exploring with featherlike kisses. “That’s not what I want,” she finally gasped.
She felt his lips curve into a smile. “What do you want, my love? ” he asked. “To feed you,” she whispered.
His smile widened, revealing the tips of fangs. She felt them press against her skin. Pin jerked awake, her hands flying to her throat. The room was empty, moonlight streaming through the window.
A dream? But the lingering sensation of cool fingers on her thigh felt so real she couldn’t be certain. Vampires could move silently, appearing and disappearing without trace. Could he have actually been here?
She climbed out of bed. There was only one way to find out. The massive study door loomed before her. Pin smoothed her hands over her skirts, trying to calm her racing heart.
Before she could retreat, the door swung open. Lord Drystan stood framed in the doorway, perfect as marble. “Lady Pin,” he greeted her, stepping aside. “Please enter.
”
She moved past him, acutely aware of his presence, of the careful space he maintained between them. “I trust your day with the children was pleasant? ” he asked. “Very much so,” she replied.
“They’re remarkable, each in their own way. ”
A hint of genuine warmth touched his features. “They are indeed. Helen can be challenging.
”
“I know. She’s protective of you,” Pin observed. “Of all of you, really. ”
Lord Drystan nodded thoughtfully.
“She was twelve when I found her. That was four years ago. ” He moved to stand by the fireplace, maintaining distance. “Did Finley show any signs of distress around you?
”
“No,” Pin assured him. “He seemed shy, but not fixated as before. ”
“The bond is working then,” Lord Drystan said with visible relief. An awkward silence fell between them.
Pin struggled to reconcile this polite, distant figure with the passionate one from her dream. “I’ve been having dreams,” she admitted, heat rising to her cheeks. “At least, I think it was a dream. ”
“The blood bond creates a connection between us,” he explained clinically.
“Dreams are a common side effect, particularly in the early stages. ”
“Can you see them? ” Pin asked, mortification burning through her. A startled laugh escaped him.
“No. Your thoughts remain your own, as do your dreams. ”
Relief washed over her. “Last night’s feeding was more intense than necessary,” Drystan stated abruptly.
“A small cut would provide blood without the complications that arise from a proper feeding. ” From his desk, he retrieved a small silver dagger. “A cut on your wrist should suffice. We will also spread out the feedings starting next week.
I should be able to go on with only taking your blood once a month or so. ”
Pin took the blade and carefully drew it across her skin. Lord Drystan knelt before her chair, taking her wrist in cool fingers. “This will be quick,” he promised calmly.
But the first touch of his mouth against her skin sent a shiver through her. His eyes drifted closed, dark lashes fanning against pale cheeks. A soft sound escaped him—half sigh, half moan—quiet, but unmistakable. When he pulled away, his lips, stained crimson, parted on a shaky exhale he didn’t need.
Then awareness returned. She watched him reassemble his careful mask—eyes cooling, lips pressing together, shoulders straightening as he rose. “Thank you,” he said formally. “That should be sufficient.
”
Pin nodded, unable to speak. The cut was already healing, yet the impression of his mouth lingered. “Tomorrow night, then? ” she asked weakly.
Lord Drystan retreated to his desk. “No. We should repeat this every three days,” he said, back turned, as though he couldn’t trust himself to look at her. Pin left quietly, more confused than when she’d first come in.
Autumn’s crimson leaves gave way to winter’s snow, and eventually winter softened into spring. Through it all, Pin found herself caught in a dance of longing and restraint. Her days filled with the children, her nights consumed by thoughts of their guardian. Helen now sought her out for evening walks.
Adam’s energy found focus under her guidance. Veronica’s drawings revealed a soul blossoming, while Finley looked at her with pure adoration. But these victories paled against the exquisite torture of Lord Drystan’s presence. Every fortnight, their ritual unfolded in his study—the silver dagger catching firelight, the precise cut across her wrist, the breathless anticipation as he knelt before her, taking her hand in his cool grip.
Despite how his lips lingered longer against her skin, despite the hunger she glimpsed after feeding, he maintained his careful distance. Her dreams grew more vivid each night—dreams of cool hands mapping constellations across her heated skin, of fangs pressing crescents into her flesh, of pleasure bordering on pain. She would wake gasping, sometimes catching his scent in her room, as if he had stood watching over her sleep. January brought a blizzard that imprisoned them all within the mansion’s walls.
Forced proximity heightened the tension. Twice she collided with his solid chest rounding corners, his hands instinctively steadying her before he stepped away with a muttered apology. “He watches you even when he’s not in the room,” Helen observed one afternoon. “The portraits—haven’t you noticed?
Their eyes follow you like his do. ”
Pin had noticed. She sometimes felt the weight of centuries watching her through painted eyes. By April, his composure crumbled visibly with each taste of her blood.
Once, his tongue had traced the cut before he drank, a caress so intimate she’d gasped aloud. She learned his story in fragments, piecing together the lonely centuries of his existence—how he had found purpose in rescuing vampire children. “He thinks he’s cursed,” Adam said once. “He told me that immortality isn’t a gift.
It’s a punishment. ”
By May, this careful dance of approach and retreat had stretched Pin’s nerves to breaking. Until one night, five months after her arrival, everything changed. Lord Drystan stood by the window, his back to her, his silhouette outlined by moonlight.
“The children asked about going to the village festival next week,” she said. “It wouldn’t be wise,” he replied. “They become overexcited in crowds. ”
“They’re doing better,” Pin observed.
“They just want to feel normal sometimes. ”
He turned then, moonlight casting half his face in shadow. “They aren’t normal, Pin,” he declared. “They never will be.
”
“Neither are you,” she said softly. “Neither am I. Yet we find ways to live. ”
“You should make the cut,” he said, changing the subject.
Pin looked down at the dagger. “No,” she said, setting it aside. He went perfectly still. Rising from her chair, Pin moved toward him.
“I’m tired of feeling your gaze on me when you think I won’t notice. I’m tired of dreams that leave me aching for your touch. I’ve watched you fight yourself for five months,” she said, stopping before him. “Stop fighting.
”
She tilted her head, exposing the column of her throat. Drystan’s eyes darkened, fixed on the pulse fluttering beneath her skin. “Pin,” he rasped, her name a warning, his hands hovering at her shoulders, trembling with restraint. “You deserve more than a half-life with a creature outside time,” he said.
“You deserve a mate who can give you a future. ”
“I can’t bear children,” she murmured. “And I’ve already lived half a life—eighteen years of emptiness. I don’t fear your immortality, Drystan.
I fear never belonging again. Not to anyone. Not to you. ”
Something fractured in his expression.
His fingers brushed her skin—cool, reverent, then possessive. “If I start,” he whispered, “I may not stop. ”
“Then don’t. ”
His lips claimed hers in a kiss that stole her breath—hungry, desperate, centuries of longing igniting between them.
His mouth was cool, yet fire bloomed where he touched her. Without a word, he lifted her and carried her through a hidden passage into his chambers, where firelight danced across dark velvet and shadows. For one suspended moment, he studied her face, searching for doubt. Finding none, he lowered his head to her throat.
“Last chance,” he murmured. Pin tilted her neck in silent offering. His arms tightened, fangs pressing lightly before piercing deep. She gasped as sharp pain melted into spreading warmth—liquid fire that flooded her veins.
The world spun, every heartbeat thundered between them, her body trembling as the bond snapped open, raw and radiant. He drank, a low growl vibrating against her skin. Visions flashed—moonlight, laughter, centuries of memory not her own. When he finally withdrew, his kiss was fevered, tasting of blood and devotion.
The metallic tang only deepened the intimacy, their essences mingling in something sacred and forbidden. Drystan laid her on the bed, unfastening her gown until she lay bathed in firelight and moonlight. His cool hands traced her heated skin, every touch magnified by the venom still coursing through her. “Pin,” he breathed, “my love.
”
When he entered her, it was as if the world ceased to exist. Pleasure and hunger, ice and fire—two halves made whole. The bite’s venom heightened every sensation until she was dissolving into him, body and soul. She had never felt so alive.
The emptiness of years vanished as if it had never been. Afterward, wrapped in midnight sheets, his cool body against her warmth, Pin felt reborn. “I’ve lived for centuries,” he murmured, “and never felt anything like this. ”
Pin kissed his palm, nestling beneath his chin as dawn’s first gold touched the towers outside.
Spring blossomed into a golden summer. The estate transformed by more than just the changing seasons. Laughter echoed through once-silent corridors. Flowers adorned tables that had known only dust.
Pin found herself living a happiness she had never dared imagine possible. “I never thought I’d have this again,” she admitted one balmy June evening as she and Drystan lay entwined in his massive bed. “Have what? ” Drystan asked, his cool fingers tracing idle patterns along her bare shoulder.
“Family. ”
His smile, once so rare, now increasingly frequent, brightened his perfect features. He reached out to steal a bite from Pin’s plate with playful grace. “I’d forgotten how delicious blackberries could be,” he remarked, and the simple pleasure on his face made her heart swell.
It made him seem more human—the fact that he didn’t need to eat, but felt the desire anyway. Like he was opening up to life again. But then, during a midsummer feast celebrating Adam’s hunting success, Drystan accepted glass after glass of wine until a faint flush colored his normally pale cheeks. The more he drank, the more freely his laughter came.
“Are you drunk? ” she whispered in delighted disbelief as they retired to their chambers. “Of course not,” he snorted. “Alcohol cannot affect us.
”
Yet he was undeniably tipsy—his kisses more unrestrained than usual, his eternally formal speech slightly less composed. Pin found it utterly charming, though a small voice wondered how wine could affect him at all. A few weeks later, she woke to find Drystan still beside her—not reading or watching over her, as was his habit, but simply sleeping. When she touched his shoulder gently, his eyes flew open with a start, momentary confusion giving way to recognition.
“Good morning,” he murmured, sitting up quickly. “I must have been lost in thought. ”
“Lost in dreams, more like,” Pin teased, though unease stirred in her chest. Drystan dismissed it with a laugh, pulling her down for a kiss that soon made her forget her concerns.
Yet the incidents continued. During an evening game of chess with Adam, Drystan’s head nodded forward, his eyes drifting shut mid-move. Their feeding ritual had evolved since those first formal encounters. Now, when he drank from her, it was part of their lovemaking—intimate, passionate, often leaving them both breathless with pleasure.
Yet recently she’d noticed he took less each time, sometimes barely more than a few swallows. “Don’t you need more? ” she asked one night in early September. “This is sufficient,” he replied, already moving to kiss her neck, clearly intent on distracting her.
The deflection might have worked if she hadn’t caught him rubbing his temples when he thought she wasn’t looking, hadn’t seen the brief wince when the children’s play grew too loud. Something was changing in him. Something neither of them understood. By October, he began to miscalculate his own strength.
Once, while demonstrating proper form to Adam, his grip on the practice sword slipped, the wooden blade clattering to the floor. That night, after the children were asleep, Pin found Drystan in his study, staring into the fire. “We need to talk,” she said without preamble. “Something’s wrong.
You’re falling asleep during the day. You dropped your sword. You froze at dinner tonight. ”
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, with a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep within him, he met her gaze. “I’m over five hundred years old. Perhaps this is simply what happens to vampires of a certain age. ”
But his explanation rang false, and they both knew it.
“When did it start? ” Pin asked, though she already suspected the answer. His gaze met hers reluctantly. “Around the time we began sharing blood more intimately.
”
The implication hung in the air between them. “You need to feed,” she said decisively, already rolling up her sleeve. “Properly. Not these small sips you’ve been taking.
”
In the weeks that followed, Pin devoted herself to research, seeking any information on vampire-shifter bonds. A few texts mentioned a vampire’s ability to form blood bonds with multiple humans, creating what one ancient volume called a “harem of sustenance” to ensure adequate feeding without killing. But none addressed what might happen when a vampire fed exclusively from a shifter for extended periods. Meanwhile, Drystan’s condition deteriorated.
On a bitter November evening, disaster struck during Helen’s celebration when Drystan collapsed mid-toast. For three days, the fever raged. Pin barely left Drystan’s side, watching in growing terror as he thrashed in delirium, calling out in languages she didn’t recognize. On the fourth morning, Pin woke from a fitful doze in the bedside chair to find Drystan watching her, his eyes clear again.
“You look tired,” he murmured, his voice weak. A startled laugh escaped her. “That’s what you have to say after nearly dying? ”
“Dying?
” He frowned, trying to push himself upright. The effort clearly cost him—his arms trembled visibly. “That’s a little dramatic, wouldn’t you say? ”
Pin rolled her eyes.
“My blood is doing this to you,” she said finally. “Something in shifter blood is poisoning you. ”
“We don’t know that,” Drystan countered. “What else could it be?
” she demanded. “The changes started after we bonded. You’ve been growing weaker for months, and now this fever. ”
She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought—that she might be slowly killing the man she loved.
Drystan reached for her hand, his grip weaker than she’d ever felt it. “There might be a solution,” she said hesitantly. “The texts I found—they mentioned vampires can form blood bonds with multiple humans. If you took another partner, fed from someone else…”
“No.
” His response was immediate. “Never. ”
“But if my blood is poisoning you…”
“You are my wife,” he interrupted. “The mother of my children.
I won’t betray what we have. I couldn’t. ”
“But you’re dying,” she whispered, the tears finally spilling over. “I’m not,” he countered, pulling her into his arms, still warm with the remnants of fever.
Tears welled in her eyes. His nobility would be the death of him. That night, when Drystan had fallen into deep slumber, Pin sat beside the bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest. The decision crystallized in her mind—painful, but necessary.
She would not watch him fade away. Would not let the children lose the only father they had known. With trembling hands, she penned three letters by candlelight. Then, with only a small travel bag containing essentials, Pin slipped from the mansion into the bitter November night.
Pin walked for an entire day, moving through the snow like a ghost. By nightfall, she reached a small village nestled in the valley beyond the forest. Lights glowed in cottage windows. Smoke curled from chimneys.
As she approached, a scent caught her attention—familiar yet unexpected. Another shifter. The woman stood in the doorway, watching Pin with obvious curiosity. Something in her posture—the way she balanced her weight, the slight tilt of her head—marked her as wolf.
“You’re a long way from any pack lands, sister,” the woman called. Pin hesitated. “I’m just passing through,” she replied, her voice tight. The older woman studied her for a long moment.
“No, you’re not,” she said flatly. “You’re running. ”
Before Pin could respond, the woman stepped forward. “I’m Vera.
I have rooms above the blacksmith shop. You’ll stay with me tonight. ”
Vera prepared a simple meal of bread, cheese, and stew. “Now,” she said once Pin had eaten, “tell me what brings a lone wolf here in winter.
”
Pin found herself telling Vera everything. The blood bond. The children. Their happiness.
And Drystan’s mysterious decline. “Let me understand,” Vera said slowly. “He has to create a connection with someone else that rivals what he shares with you. ”
Put so bluntly, it sounded awful.
“Yes,” Pin said miserably. “I suppose we could share him. ”
“So, your husband has to cheat on you or he’ll die. ” Vera’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline.
“Essentially, yes. ”
The older woman shook her head. “Well, never marry a vampire. I’ll tell you that much.
Too complicated by half. ” She rose, collecting their empty plates. “Get some sleep. Things often look clearer in the morning.
”
Pin collapsed into the guest bed, surrendering to dreamless sleep. Morning arrived with pale winter sunlight. She had just managed to dress when she heard voices from the main room—Vera’s low contralto and a male voice that stopped her heart mid-beat. Drystan.
Impossible, though it seemed. She would know that voice anywhere—the precise diction, the subtle musicality that centuries hadn’t erased. But how? She’d left no trail.
Had walked for an entire day. Had told no one where she was going. Moving silently to the door, she pressed her ear against the wood, straining to catch their conversation. “Any travelers come through recently?
” Drystan was saying, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. “A woman. Dark-haired. Traveling alone.
”
“Plenty of women in these parts,” Vera replied noncommittally. “Can’t say I’ve noticed any particular one. ”
“Please. ” Drystan’s voice dropped, raw with desperation.
“She’s my wife. Our children are distraught. If you’ve seen her, or heard anything…”
Pin couldn’t bear it any longer. She pushed open the door and stepped into the main room.
Drystan stood by the window, his back to her. Even from behind, she could see the tension in his shoulders. At the sound of the door, he turned—and the naked hope that blazed across his features stole her breath. “Pin,” he whispered.
They moved simultaneously, closing the distance between them. His arms came around her with surprising strength, crushing her against his chest. She clung to him just as fiercely. “How did you find me?
” she asked. “I would find you anywhere,” he said simply. She pulled back to see his face. “You shouldn’t have come.
You’re still weak. ”
“I’m stronger than you think,” he interrupted. “Come home, Pin. ” He cleared his throat.
“The children need you. I need you. ”
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “I can’t.
You’re dying, and you won’t listen to reason. My blood is killing you. ”
“Wait. ” Vera interrupted.
“That’s your husband? I thought you said he was a vampire. ”
“He is,” Pin confirmed. Vera circled Drystan slowly.
“He looks human,” she said bluntly. “He smells human. He’s a human—no doubt about that. ”
“I assure you, madam, I am a vampire,” Drystan said with dignified offense.
“Well, you’re not one now,” Vera stated. “He’s been ill,” Pin protested. “Growing weaker, falling asleep when vampires don’t need sleep…”
“I’ve met vampires,” Vera shrugged. “They smell like overripe fruit and death.
You smell like a normal human male. ”
Drystan suddenly swayed on his feet, and Pin guided him to a chair by the fire. “When did you last eat? ” Vera asked him.
“Vampires don’t require food,” Drystan replied, blinking confusedly. “Well, humans do. ” Vera disappeared into her kitchen, returning with a plate piled high with bread, meat, and cheese. “You look half starved.
Eat. ”
To Pin’s astonishment, Drystan stared at the food with unmistakable hunger. After a moment’s hesitation, he took a piece of bread, then a slice of meat. By the third bite, he was eating with genuine enthusiasm, his expression shifting from confusion to relief, color returning to his face.
“I don’t understand,” Pin said. “How is this possible? ”
“It’s simple,” Vera said. “He’s human now.
Humans need food. ”
“But he was a vampire,” Pin insisted. “He drank my blood for months. ”
“Shifter blood.
” Vera interrupted. “We heal fast. Perhaps it healed him. ”
Drystan set down his fork.
“Are you suggesting that Pin’s blood has cured my… vampirism? ”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Vera replied. “I’m telling you what my nose tells me. You were a vampire.
Now you’re not. ”
“But that’s impossible,” Pin whispered, though the evidence sat before her—Drystan with color in his cheeks, hunger for real food, and a fundamentally changed scent. “Apparently not,” Vera shrugged. “Now, are you two going back to your children, or do you plan to stand in my kitchen gawking all day?
”
Drystan reached for Pin’s hand, his fingers truly warm with the heat of humanity. “The children,” he said suddenly, his eyes meeting Pin’s. “If shifter blood can reverse vampirism, with my help… they could grow up. ”
“Age naturally again,” Pin breathed.
Vera gave them a pointed look. “First things first—you need sleep. ” She pointed at Drystan. She showed them to her guest room.
“Sort out the rest when you’re thinking straight. ”
The door had barely closed when Drystan gathered Pin into his arms. They fell onto the narrow bed, too exhausted for anything but the desperate need to hold each other. “Don’t ever leave me again,” Drystan murmured against her hair.
“I couldn’t bear it. Never,” Pin promised. “I’m sorry. ”
As sleep claimed them both, Pin’s last conscious thought was of the four children waiting at home.
Children who might now have a chance at the normal lives that had been stolen from them. All because of a bond formed in desperation that had become the greatest gift imaginable. Three years had passed since the winter day when Pin and Drystan discovered the miraculous truth—that shifter blood, far from killing vampires, could restore their humanity. Pin sat on a stone bench in the garden, watching as Drystan demonstrated proper sword technique to Adam.
The morning sun caught in his golden hair, now streaked with the faintest hints of silver at the temples—a badge of his regained humanity that he wore with quiet pride. “Father’s getting slower,” Helen observed, settling onto the bench beside Pin. At fourteen, she was in the midst of the transformation herself—still immortal, but gradually changing as Pin’s blood worked its magic. “Don’t let him hear you say that,” Pin replied with a smile, though they both knew Drystan would simply laugh at the observation.
Across the garden, Veronica and Finley played an elaborate game of their own devising—still perfectly immortal, their movements carrying the fluid grace unique to vampires. The process would be slow. Pin could only safely feed one vampire at a time, and at Helen’s insistence, she had been the first. As the eldest, she had lived longest in her frozen state, had felt most keenly the curse of a mind that continued to mature while her body remained childish.
“When will it be my turn? ” Adam asked often, watching with barely concealed impatience as Helen grew a fraction of an inch taller, as her features subtly matured. “Soon,” was always the answer. Once Helen completed her transformation, Adam would be next, then Veronica, and finally Finley.
It would take years—perhaps a decade or more—but they had something they’d never possessed before. Hope. “Pin,” Drystan called, shading his eyes against the sun as he looked toward her. “Would you mind showing Adam that disarming move you taught Helen?
”
“Of course,” she replied, rising from the bench. As she crossed the garden, her hand brushed unconsciously over her still-flat stomach, where their newest family member grew. A miracle they had never imagined possible. That night, after the children were asleep, Pin and Drystan stood on the balcony of their chambers, watching the moon rise over the northern forests.
His arm circled her waist, drawing her close against the evening chill—another human sensation he had relearned to appreciate. “Are you ever sorry? ” Pin asked quietly. “About losing your immortality?
”
Drystan considered the question with thoughtfulness. “Eternity is worthless without meaning, without love,” he said finally. His hand drifted to rest over hers where it cradled their unborn child. “I would rather live one mortal lifetime with you, with our family, than an endless existence alone.
”
Pin leaned into his embrace, savoring the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. “We’ll grow old together,” she murmured. “Not a question, but a promise. ”
“Yes,” Drystan agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“And watch our children grow alongside us. All of them, in time. ”
As the stars appeared one by one in the darkening sky, Pin thought of the long, improbable path that had brought them here. From a chance encounter at a mating ceremony, to a desperate blood bond, to this unexpected joy.
Once, they had been defined by what they had lost—her fertility, his humanity, the children’s futures. Now, beneath the vast night sky, they stood together not as broken pieces, but as a whole. What had begun as necessity had transformed into the greatest gift.
A family forged not by blood or fate, but by the choice to love despite all odds.
