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My hand hit her chest, shoving her back.

That was my mistake. She pushed me harder in return, then drove her foot into my stomach. The air punched out of my lungs as I crashed backward onto the mattress, my body pinned there without consent. She climbed onto my shaking form, thighs bracketing my waist as she steadied herself against me.

Our gazes locked for a single beat, teeth bared at one another. Valentina’s expression was the first to break. Worry overtook her features, shaping her brows and pulling her mouth down. “What is wrong with you?” she whispered. “I thought something happened. That something went wrong. You were vibrating like a maniac, your body is still so hot.”

“Get off me,” I hissed, bucking my hips to throw her off. My struggle only made her lock her thighs tighter around my waist, trapping me there. “You should be worried about yourself. And your back. Not me.”

Valentina lifted herself just enough to brace her palms against my chest, looking down at me. Her expression softened, a wall of pale curls spilling around us like a shield. “I should’ve let my father come,” she said, her voice breaking. “I shouldn’t have insisted—” I studied her then, really studied her, as her tone turned brittle. Her emotions pressed into me like a presence of their own, demanding attention. Beneath the confession wasn’t manipulation or fear, just guilt. And something close to defeat.

Even with the storm between us, my mind latched onto what she’d said. She wasn’t supposed to be the one telling me this. She wasn’t supposed to be here, pinning me down right now. And for reasons I couldn’t explain, that realization sparked another wave of frustration. “What do you mean,” I asked quietly, “you insisted?”

Valentina’s mouth curved into something innocent, but her eyes betrayed her. Something heavier flickered there, hesitation tangled with barely contained excitement, as her pupils dilated. She shifted, pushing herself upright, her weight pressing into my stomach as she moved. “I don’t want to alarm you,” she said softly, like she was easing me toward the edge of something dangerous.

“Just say it,” I snapped, “before I launch you off me.” I considered it for half a moment, but with her still straddling me, I felt the brutal fury ebb into something sharper, annoyance replacing it.

Her eyes rolled as her nails dug into my thigh. “I don’t want to pressure you into feeling any particular way when I say this. Just… stay open. Because right now, anything is possible.” She was right. Everything that once felt solid, unchangeable, had fractured overnight. Was life suddenly upside down? Or had it always been this way, and I’d just never noticed? The softness in her voice told me the truth before my mind could catch up: my world wasn’t up or down anymore.

It had tilted sideways.

Another shaky breath slipped from her lungs as she steadied herself, though it still rattled when I looked up at her. “A few months after my father placed you here,” she began, “a man appeared before my parents. He spoke a single line of truth. One that changed the course of both our lives.”

Her voice was slow, deliberate, as though she needed me to understand every word before moving on. Our gazes never broke. I nodded once, silently acknowledging her version of the truth, and she continued.

“He warned my father that his mercy had set something into motion. That the child he spared, the one who was lost, would one day be bound to his own.” Her voice trembled as she paused, nerves bleeding into each syllable. “Together,” she whispered, “they would lead our people out of the dark ages… and restore balance to the vampire realm.”

Impulsively, my brow arched, confusion tightening my expression with a thread of fear beneath it. I couldn’t look at her. I was supposed to have a mate, bound by something ancient and deliberate. all because her father, a man I had no face or name for, had chosen mercy instead of death.

Every sensible thought insisted they had the wrong person. But after everything I’d learned in the last twenty-four hours, even my sense of reason felt unreliable. And worse, my body didn’t reject the idea. How I reacted to her wasn’t simple attraction. That realization scared me more than I wanted to admit, so I buried it, forcing my gaze back to her face. If she noticed the unease flickering across my expression, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she continued, listing the weight of what she believed awaited us.

“It’s not just the vampires,” she said softly. “Together, we’d unify the entire magical world. Werewolves. Fae. Sirens. Demons. Angels. All of them will live in harmony.”

Excitement lit her eyes. She looked hopeful. Inspired.

My thoughts spun uselessly, chasing each other in circles with nowhere to land. Was this some kind of quest I was expected to undertake? Was I even capable of something like that? Before I could steady myself enough to ask, her voice cut gently through the fog.

“I just wanted to meet you,” she admitted. “To be part of your transition. Who better to help you than the one you’re meant for?” Her voice wavered near the end, rough with emotion. “But I had to convince my father to let me come.”

A sharp pain tore through a place in me that couldn’t be reached, triggered by the crack in her voice. It felt instinctual. Like I was being summoned by her distress alone. I didn’t want it. My fingers twitched at my sides, ignoring the pull rippling through them.

This was all wrong. And overwhelming.

Valentina, this stranger, was supposedly my mate. We were meant to bring peace to the vampire realm. To unite the entire magical world. I didn’t even understand how I was becoming a vampire in the first place.

If I’d been born one… shouldn’t I already be one?

I wasn’t a savior.

I wasn’t a god.

I’m not Jesus.

Shoving the mate prophecy aside, I looked at her and said, “Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“How am I not a full vampire if I was born one?”

Valentina looked almost thrilled by the question, like she’d been waiting for it. The way her teeth showed when she smiled told me as much. She ran her fingers through her hair, stretched slightly, then settled herself before speaking. “There’s an old story in vampire history,” she began. “About two sisters, Aribella and Ameega Nightwell.” Her voice softened as she continued. “They were said to be stunning. Enchanting white hair, eyes the color of glacier water, skin kissed like sand at sunset. They belonged to the original family.” She paused, letting the image sink in. “But Aribella couldn’t bear children. So she begged her younger sister, Ameega, to lie with her mate.” As she spoke, the story stopped feeling like words. It unfolded like a vision, clear, vivid, impossible to look away from.