"I would never be like you!"
How many nights had she spent, staring at the ceiling of the trailer, sometimes the open sky, and whispering it to herself like a prayer?
How many times had she spat those words right into Nancy’s face, burning with determination, with fury, with desperation?
And yet, despite all of it, here she was.
Just like Nancy.
The past clawed its way back into her mind, an ugly, relentless thing, reminding her of who she might truly be.
"Is that a Lunaris Academy form? Good for you. Just try hard to get in, and your life will get better. If it gets harder to land a guy, remember what I taught you. Just give his dick a good suck, and he’ll be putty in your hands. You two could end up together, giving birth to beautiful werewolf babies. What a lucky bitch you are, Violet."
The woman must have cursed her that day.
That was the only explanation for why this was happening.
Why Alaric—who was sweet, who was safe, who was everything she should have wanted—wasn’t enough.
Why she was lusting after Griffin?
And worse—why it wasn’t just him.
It burned on her tongue, forbidden, unspoken yet Violet couldn’t even bring herself to think of the other name. As if the very act of saying it in her head would conjure him into existence.
Something was wrong with her.
Maybe Nancy had lied. Maybe she really was her daughter, after all. It was not beyond Nancy to lie after all, often as a way to avoid responsibility. Maybe whoring ran through their blood, and no matter how hard she tried to escape it, it had finally caught up to her.
But then... the purple hair. She looked nothing like Nancy.
Could she have taken after her father? The father she had never known? The father with purple hair? It was hilarious even as her thoughts spiraled, wild and frantic, searching for something, anything, to hold onto before the guilt swallowed her whole.
Violet came to a stop, sucking in deep, shuddering breaths.
Where was she?
The crowd had swallowed her roommates whole the moment she had bolted. Now, the music pounded in her skull, a relentless, pulsing beat that only made her breathing worse.
Then she saw him.
Asher Nightshade.
Unlike the others, who were lost in the merriment, Asher sat apart.
His pack members were in a corner, drinking, laughing, but Asher lounged alone, a king in his own right.
A lonely king.
Asher blended into the darkness, a shadow amidst the flames, dressed in black hoodies and black jeans, his long legs stretched out as he idly twirled a cigarette between his fingers.
He smoked?
She had never known that.
The white tendrils of smoke made him look even more untouchable, even more dangerous, sharpening the lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips.
But it wasn’t the cigarette that unsettled her.
It was his eyes.
They were uncovered.
No glasses.
No filter.
Nothing shielding her from the raw intensity of those slitted, gray irises and her heart skipped a beat. Not from fear. But from the way he looked at her. Because Asher Nightshade not just looked at her— he saw her.
As if he could reach into the depths of her and drag out the very demons she was trying to escape. As if he could take them for himself, make them his own.
He understood and was offering her an escape.
"Come to me, my purple queen. I see you. I understand you. I won’t judge you." Those eyes said.
Violet swayed. The offer was too tempting to ignore.
So she took a step forward, her body moving before she could think. Before she could stop herself.
Asher’s gaze glowed brighter.
Yes. Come to me.
Then almost immediately, she snapped out of it as if she had been burned.
No. What the hell was she doing? Had she forgotten one thousand reasons why she couldn’t go to Asher Nightshade?
He was damaged. Dangerous. And nothing good would ever come out of them being together.
Nothing good could. He would ruin her.
The second Violet made up her mind, the light in Asher’s eyes dimmed and his expression hardened.
She turned and fled again, shoving past groups of merry students who barely noticed her.
Except Violet ran straight into another nightmare.
Roman Draven.
Think of them and they shall appear. Why was the universe doing this to her?
Unlike Asher—the lone wolf king—Roman was never alone.
Four women clung to him, touching, fawning, claiming him as their prize. Their hands were everywhere, on his arms, his chest, his thighs, as if they were staking territory. But he wasn’t paying attention to them because his tongue was down someone else’s throat.
Violet’s stomach twisted as their eyes met.
And then, Roman smirked. A slow, devilish curve of his lips, as if he was grateful she had fallen into his trap unexpectedly.
Roman deepened the kiss.
Violet’s nails dug into her palms. Because, why was she watching? Why couldn’t she look away? And why the hell did it feel like...
Like he was kissing her through someone else?
Roman’s grip tightened in the girl’s hair, pulling her closer, kissing her harder, his tongue devouring her.
The girl moaned, the sound sending a pulse of heat straight to Violet’s core.
Oh fuck no.
Not him too.
She did not want him. She refused to. Roman was not her type. And yet—
Why did she wish it was her? Why did she want to tear those women off him? Why did she want his lips on hers?
No.
No, no, no.
And before she could stop herself, Violet turned and ran again.
This time, Violet didn’t stop. She ran blindly, while gasping for air. While looking for something that could anchor her.
She hated herself. This wasn’t normal behavior.
Maybe she had been wrong about her not-human theory.
Maybe she wasn’t a witch.
Or a fae.
But...
A succubus.
It made sense, didn’t it? That would explain why she wanted all four of their attention.
She was just like Micah. And maybe only he could help her. Maybe— Violet crashed into someone.
"Easy—whoa."
She looked up.
And her stomach dropped.
Alaric.
His face split into a grin.
"Finally," he murmured, his arms locking around her like he had caught his runaway girlfriend.
Like she belonged there.
Like he was home.
Warm.
Safe.
Everything she should have wanted.
And just like that, Violet broke.
The tears came out of nowhere.
One second, she was standing there, breathless.
And the next, she was sobbing in his arms.
Completely.
Utterly.
Falling apart.