I died at 1 a.m. in a falling elevator, torn apart before I could scream. When I woke, I was Ryn—the doomed side character of a fantasy novel I'd once skimmed. I knew her fate: sold to the lord of Blackthorn, kept as a vampire's blood source, favored for one year, then hunted, betrayed, abandoned by the wolf prince, and left to die pregnant and alone. Now I am the newest girl delivered to his door. Everyone says the lord is a madman who tortures young girls to death. Only I know the truth. His name is Saethius, the exiled vampire prince whose throne was stolen. He doesn't torture them—he simply drinks the blood of young women like the finest wine. The night he caught my chin and bared his fangs, I smiled and whispered, "Do you really think you can?" He didn't bite. By day I play the most forgettable maid; by night I learn forbidden magic in secret. To his loyal old guard, I am the seer who foretells fortune and ruin, the woman who unmasked the spies sent to destroy him. He thinks he's caging a helpless prey. He has no idea I'm the one holding the whole script, luring him until he loses control. I planned for every line of the story. I never planned for the monster who kills without mercy to save his only tenderness in the world for me.