Bloodbound devourer

Chapter one

The world snapped back into focus with a jolt, like a dagger twisting in her chest. Pain radiated through her body, not the sharp agony of the blade that had ended her life, but a dull, throbbing hunger that clawed at her insides. Ravenna's eyes fluttered open, staring at an unfamiliar canopy of crimson silk draped above her. Her wedding morning no, that couldn't be right. The memory flooded her: the white gown stained red, the Lycan King's cold eyes as he plunged the ceremonial knife into her heart, fulfilling the prophecy. "For the god-beast," he had whispered, his voice laced with regret and madness.

But she wasn't dead. Or rather, she was, but now... now she was here. Wherever "here" was. She sat up abruptly, her hands pressing against soft, velvet sheets that smelled of night-blooming jasmine and something metallic blood? Her heart raced, but it felt wrong, slower, like a predator's pulse lurking in the shadows. The room around her was opulent, a chamber fit for royalty, with walls of polished obsidian veined with silver, flickering torches casting long shadows that danced like whispering ghosts. This wasn't the austere stone halls of the Lycan palace; this was something darker, more decadent.

Ravenna swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching a rug woven from what felt like wolf fur ironic, given her history. She glanced down at her hands, expecting to see the familiar scars from her training as a Luna, the marks of claws and fangs that had shaped her into the queen she became. But these hands were flawless, pale as moonlight, with nails sharpened to points. A chill ran through her. This wasn't her body.

Panic surged, but she tamped it down, drawing on the steel will that had kept her alive through countless hunts. She staggered to a full-length mirror across the room, her reflection staring back at her with wide, startled eyes. The face was hers high cheekbones, full lips curved in a perpetual hint of defiance, raven-black hair cascading in waves down her back. But the eyes... they gleamed with an unnatural crimson hue, like embers in the dark. She bared her teeth in a snarl, and fangs extended, sharp and lethal. Vampire.

"No," she whispered, her voice a husky timbre that wasn't quite her own. Memories crashed over her like a tidal wave not just her own, but fragments of another life. A hidden existence, cloaked in glamour and deception. She was Vespera, princess of the shadowed vampire clans, secreted away in the heart of the Lycan kingdom as a lowly court scribe, her true nature masked by spells and potions. Hidden in plain sight, watching, waiting for the moment to strike. But why? The prophecy. The god-beast. The true mate.

Ravenna clutched her head, piecing it together. She had died on her wedding morning, sacrificed by King Draven to awaken the ancient god-beast that would grant his pack dominion over all realms. But the gods, or fate, or some cruel twist of magic had hurled her soul back three years into this body. Vespera's body. And if the timeline held, that meant... thirty nights. Thirty nights until the ritual wedding, until the king must kill his true mate to unleash the beast. But whose body was this? Why her face? Doppelganger? Twin? Curse?

She tested her new form, flexing fingers that moved with unnatural grace. The hunger gnawed deeper, a burning thirst in her throat. Blood. She needed blood. The thought repulsed her Ravenna had been a wolf, a Luna bound to the moon and the pack but this body craved it like a lover's touch. She spotted a crystal decanter on a side table, filled with a viscous red liquid. Without thinking, she poured a goblet and drank, the metallic tang exploding on her tongue, warm and intoxicating. Strength flooded her veins, sharpening her senses. She could hear the distant howl of wolves patrolling the borders, smell the fear-sweat of servants scurrying through the halls.

"This is impossible," she murmured, but even as she said it, a plan began to form. If she was back, she could change it all. Stop the sacrifice. Unravel the prophecy that had doomed her. But first, she needed to understand Vespera's role. The vampire princess had been hidden here for a reason spying? Sabotage? Seduction? Flashes of memory: stolen glances with Draven in shadowed corridors, his hand brushing hers, igniting a forbidden spark. Vespera had been positioning herself as a potential mate, whispering doubts into the ears of courtiers about the "chosen" Luna.

The chosen Luna. That was her Ravenna. Or had been. Three years ago, she had been a fierce warrior from a rival pack, brought to the court as a peace offering, only to be revealed as Draven's true mate through the moon's bond. But now, in this body, she was the interloper. The thief.

A knock at the door shattered her reverie. "My lady? Are you awake? The king requests your presence in the great hall."

Ravenna froze. Vespera's voice responded automatically from her lips, smooth and deceptive. "Enter."

A servant girl slipped in, eyes downcast, carrying a tray of garments. She was human, frail and trembling, her neck marked with faint puncture scars. "Your attire for the audience, milady. The council convenes soon."

Ravenna Vespera now, she supposed nodded, dismissing the girl with a wave. She dressed quickly in the provided gown, a flowing garment of midnight silk that hugged her curves like a second skin, slits up the sides revealing glimpses of pale thigh with every step. It was designed for allure, a weapon in its own right. As she fastened a silver choker around her neck, embedded with a glamour stone that masked her vampiric aura, she felt the body's instincts kick in: move like shadows, seduce like venom.

The great hall was a cavernous space in the heart of the Lycan citadel, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting epic hunts and bloody victories. Wolves in human form milled about, their eyes glowing with feral intensity. At the far end, on a throne carved from the bones of ancient beasts, sat King Draven. Tall, broad-shouldered, with hair like burnished gold and eyes the color of storm clouds. His presence commanded the room, a raw, animal magnetism that had once drawn Ravenna to him like a moth to flame. Now, in this body, it stirred something darker a hunger not just for blood, but for him.

He looked up as she approached, his gaze lingering a fraction too long on her form. "Vespera," he rumbled, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. "You've been scarce these past days. The court misses your... insights."

She curtsied, her heart Vespera's heart pounding in a way that felt traitorous. Memories surfaced: secret meetings, his lips brushing her ear as he confided in her, the heat of his body pressing against hers in hidden alcoves. Vespera had been playing a dangerous game, weaving herself into his affections while concealing her fangs. "Forgive my absence, Your Majesty. Matters of the archive demanded my attention."

He leaned forward, his scent musk and pine wafting over her, igniting the thirst anew. "And what secrets have you uncovered in those dusty tomes? Anything about the prophecy?"

The council hushed, ears perking. The prophecy was the shadow over them all: the Lycan King must wed his true mate under the blood moon, then spill her blood to awaken the god-beast, a colossal wolf-spirit that would crush their enemies. But the true mate was elusive, marked by signs only the moon could reveal. In the original timeline, it had been Ravenna. But now...

"I've found references to doppelgangers," she said carefully, drawing on Vespera's knowledge. "Twins of fate, where one must die for the other to live. Perhaps the mate is not who we think."

Draven's eyes narrowed, a flicker of intrigue and desire. "Intriguing. Walk with me later. We have much to discuss."

As the council droned on about border skirmishes with vampire clans, Ravenna's mind raced. Thirty nights until the blood moon. She had to find a way to break the cycle, to expose whatever Vespera had been planning. Was the princess here to prevent the awakening, or to hijack it for her own kind? The hunger pulsed again, and she excused herself, slipping into the corridors.

She needed air or whatever passed for it in this undead form. The citadel's gardens were a labyrinth of thorny roses and moonlit paths, patrolled by shifter guards. As she wandered, a familiar scent hit her: her own. Wolfish, wild, with a hint of lavender from the soaps she favored.

Heart in her throat, she followed it to a secluded grove. There, training with a wooden sword, was a woman who could have been her mirror image. Black hair tied back, fierce green eyes not crimson focused on her strikes. This was Ravenna, three years younger, newly arrived at court, honing her skills before the mate-bond revelation.

The past self paused, sniffing the air. "Who's there? Show yourself."

Ravenna Vespera stepped into the light, her glamour holding, but the resemblance was uncanny. The younger Ravenna's eyes widened. "You... you look like me."

"A trick of the light, perhaps," Ravenna replied, her voice steady despite the storm inside. Up close, the similarities were eerie: same height, same build, same defiant tilt to the chin. But this body had no wolf spirit; it was cold, eternal.

The younger one circled her, sword raised. "No. It's more than that. Who are you, really?"

Before she could answer, a guard's howl echoed intruders at the border. The younger Ravenna dashed off, leaving her doppelganger in the shadows.

Ravenna sank against a tree, mind reeling. Two women, same face. But why? Had the vampires engineered this? Cloned her? Or was it the prophecy's cruel joke?

She returned to Vespera's chambers, rifling through hidden drawers. There, a journal bound in human skin, entries in elegant script: "The king grows closer. His touch burns like silver, but I endure. The true mate arrives soon the wolf girl from the north. She must be eliminated before the bond forms. Then, I take her place, wed him, and when he spills my blood... the god-beast awakens under vampire control."

Ravenna's blood ran cold or would have, if it flowed warmly. Vespera had planned to impersonate her, to steal her life. But in the original timeline, it hadn't happened that way. Why? Had Vespera failed? Been discovered?

A noise at the door Draven, entering unannounced. His eyes darkened with lust as he took in her form. "I couldn't wait for later."

He closed the distance, his hands rough on her waist, pulling her close. The kiss was savage, teeth nipping at her lips, drawing a bead of blood that she lapped instinctively. Desire warred with revulsion this body responded to him, arching into his touch, while her soul screamed betrayal. He had killed her once. Would he do it again?

As his fingers traced the curve of her neck, exposing the glamour stone, he paused. "What's this?"

Before she could stop him, he tugged it free. The illusion shattered, revealing her crimson eyes, her fangs. Draven's face twisted in shock, then fury. "Vampire. Spy."

He shoved her back, shifting partially, claws extending. "Guards!"

But Ravenna was faster, vampire speed blurring her movements. She pinned him against the wall, fangs at his throat. "Wait. It's not what you think."

His breath came hot against her skin, a mix of rage and something deeper arousal. "Then explain, before I rip out your heart."

She hesitated, then whispered the truth or part of it. "I'm not just Vespera. I'm... from the future. Your mate. The one you kill."

He laughed, bitter. "Madness. The mate hasn't been revealed yet."

"But she has," she said, releasing him slightly. "Look at me. Really look."

He did, and recognition dawned. "You have her face. The wolf girl's."

"Yes. Because Vespera was made to mimic her to mimic me. The vampires sent a doppelganger to sabotage the prophecy."

Draven's hands, still on her, tightened possessively. "Then why do you feel like fire in my veins? Like the bond?"

The room spun. The mate-bond flickering to life, not with her past self, but with this body. The prophecy twisting.

Before she could process, the door burst open. Guards, and behind them, the younger Ravenna, sword drawn. "I followed the scent. What's"

She stopped, seeing the scene: Draven pinned by her mirror image, fangs bared.

The younger one's eyes blazed. "Imposter!"

Ravenna released Draven, stepping back. The twist hit her like a silver bullet: the bond wasn't with the wolf girl anymore. It was with her, in this vampiric shell. And if the king bonded with a vampire...

The god-beast would awaken wrong. Corrupted. Devouring everything.

Draven looked between them, confusion turning to calculation. "Two mates. One face. The prophecy didn't account for this."

The younger Ravenna lunged, but Draven held up a hand. "Hold. This changes everything."

Ravenna Vespera met her past self's gaze, a silent challenge passing between them. Love was poison, indeed. And the game had just begun.

But as the guards circled, a deeper hunger stirred in her—not for blood, but for revenge. The prophecy devoured those who rewrote it. Fine. Let it choke on her.

The council chamber erupted into chaos that night, but Ravenna slipped away in the confusion, her mind a whirlwind. She had thirty nights to unravel this web, to decide who lived and who died. The younger her was a threat now a rival for the bond, for the throne. And Draven... his touch lingered on her skin like a brand, awakening desires she couldn't afford.

She retreated to the archives, Vespera's domain, poring over forbidden texts. The prophecy's origins: a pact between wolves and gods, sealed in blood. But a footnote, in ancient runes: "Should the mate be tainted by night eternal, the beast awakens as devourer, not protector."

Vampire blood. If Draven killed her now, in this body, the god-beast would rampage, destroying lycans and vampires alike. Was that Vespera's plan? Suicide mission to end the war?

No. The journal hinted at more: "Pregnancy binds the beast to my will. His seed, my womb the child a vessel for control."

Pregnancy as a weapon. Ravenna's hand drifted to her abdomen, the thought sending a thrill of horror and power. Seduce the king, bear his heir, twist the prophecy.

But the younger Ravenna would fight for her place. Already, whispers spread: the new arrival from the north, fierce and beautiful, catching the king's eye.

Ravenna smiled in the dim light, fangs glinting. Let the chess game begin. Seduction and slaughter. She would play both sides, vampire and wolf, until only one head remained—hers.

The night deepened, and she heard footsteps. Draven, seeking her out. "We need to talk," he growled from the doorway, his eyes hungry.

She turned, letting the gown slip slightly from her shoulder. "Talk? Or something more?"

He crossed the room in a blur, pressing her against the shelves, books tumbling. His mouth claimed hers, rough and demanding, hands exploring with possessive urgency. The bond flared, hot and insistent, her body responding with a ferocity that blurred lines between hate and want.

As he lifted her onto the table, parting her thighs, she whispered against his ear, "This could destroy us all."

"Then let it burn," he replied, thrusting deep, eliciting a gasp that echoed through the archives.

Pleasure mingled with pain, the thirst rising as she nipped his shoulder, tasting his blood lycan essence, potent and addictive. He groaned, moving with animal rhythm, their bodies a battlefield of sweat and sighs.

In that moment, tangled in ecstasy, Ravenna plotted. Use this. Bind him. Then, when the time came, decide: kill the younger self, or let the prophecy claim them both.

But as climax shattered her, a vision flashed unbidden, from Vespera's memories: Draven, in a hidden chamber, conspiring with vampire envoys. "The wolf girl must die. Vespera will take her place."

Betrayal. He had known. All along.

The twist sank in as he collapsed against her, spent. The king wasn't a victim of the prophecy. He was its architect, playing vampires against his own kind for ultimate power.

Ravenna's eyes glowed crimson in the dark. Love was poison? Then she would be the deadliest dose.