Read Chapter 1 of Heal Me

The kitchen was quiet, just the way I liked it.

If I started my evening in silence—with my knives oiled, my kit stocked, and the stew set on low—there was a chance the rest of it wouldn’t tilt sideways. Blackwell Pack nights were a tangle of stomping boots, chatter, and someone bleeding on the rug. As the biggest group of misfits and outcasts this side of the Mississippi, we were a made family instead of one built by blood. But as much as I loved them, I preferred the in-between, the hush where the wards hummed, the stew bubbled, and no one needed me to patch them up.

I perched on the counter with my mug, letting calm wash over me. The cold storage buzzed. The clock ticked. Somewhere upstairs, Aster’s voice rolled low and smooth, probably cutting a deal that would end with someone grateful and someone terrified. Typical Tuesday. As the resident death Fae, Aster wasn’t one to be trifled with. Luckily, I was usually on her good side.

The rest of the world, not so much.

The stew simmered, and I hugged my knees tighter. The meal wasn’t for me. Knox had a harpy’s metabolism rate and a talent for “forgetting” dinner when there were missions to run. As the pack’s second, he was always busy. He’d deny it, but I’d seen the way his hands shook after long flights. I didn’t fix people who didn’t want it—but food wasn’t a fix.

It was insurance.

Right on cue, heavy boots thudded down the hall. Knox filled the doorway in his black hoodie and sweats. Coupled with his hooked nose and cut-glass grin, his general appearance made people think he’d bite first and apologize never. His dark wings were nowhere to be seen, but give him a moment, and they’d be back, smacking into the doorframe.

“That smells like you pretending you don’t worry about me,” he said, already at the stove hunting for a bowl.

“Delusion’s a symptom, Knox,” I said, hopping down from the counter. “Might be airborne.”

“Better make that two bowls.” He flashed a sharper grin. “For my health.”

I ladled, and he snatched it from my hands, parking his butt at the giant table. He ate like the bowl was a threat, but it loosened something in my chest I chose not to examine. Knox was my only family, and if we were talking blood, I couldn’t even call him that.

He wasn’t blood, but he was my brother in every way that counted, and I cherished that more than anything. He’d been the one to save me from that coven of death witches looking for a sacrifice. He’d been the one who’d plucked me from the brink of death as a child, the one to convinced me to join this pack, the one who made me trust our Alpha—even when I really didn’t want to.

“Corvin wants you to go to the market with Aster tomorrow,” he said around a mouthful, shattering my illusion of peace and harmony. “Maybe pick up some supplies from the apothecary.”

My eye twitched, but I snatched the ladle from the counter to cover it, bringing it to the sink. The last thing I needed was to go anywhere near that damn apothecary.

“Corvin wants everyone to get sunlight and socialization followed by trust exercises and sing kumbaya,” I said, dry as a bone as I flipped on the tap. “I’d rather eat glass.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“Neither am I.” I rinsed the ladle, taking the time to dry it before setting it back on the counter next to the stew. Corvin wanted his pack happy, and he wasn’t above bribery or coercion to get the job done. “Finish your food and go. And while you’re at it, don’t crash into any more bell towers.”

“That was one time.” He angled his head, listening to something only harpies caught on the wind. “And it was funny.”

Rolling my eyes, I resumed my perch on the counter. “It was loud. And it got me half-trampled by Jude.”

Jude was a beast of a man even when he wasn’t in his bear form. It had taken four shifts to heal the crushed foot from that incident, and I refused to let Knox forget it.

Knox winced as he saluted with his spoon. “No more bell towers. I’ll scratch that off my to-do list.”

Then he absconded from the kitchen like the stew thief he was, and the silence returned, thicker than before. My healer’s kit waited, neat rows of vials and gauze and the good sutures tucked into the corner. I clicked each latch, the ritual steadying my wolf.

Everything in its place—so why did I feel like I was on the edge of something?

The past tried to nudge in, as it always did when I stood still too long. That stupid leather jacket, his dark eyes that lied far too easily. The flash of fangs, followed by the echo of blood. The world narrowed to the thud of two heartbeats, his teeth in my throat, shredding flesh.

A while back, Fate had selected a mate for me in the form of a no-good, lowlife vampire member of the Crimson Roses, a wannabe “bad boy” biker gang full of other vampires with no nest, no scruples, and no fucking sense. They didn’t like that Corvin had put them in their place and tried to hurt me as a punishment.

Well, they did hurt me, but I made sure to send that asshole straight back to Fate with his throat torn out. And even though it had been years, the scars were still there. Inexplicably, my fingers found the faint raised flesh on my neck.

The bond had never fully snapped into place—no sex, no sealing bite—but my wolf still felt the empty echo like a door I’d slammed on my own hand.

I breathed through it, letting the tea scald my tongue. I’d always known Fate could be cruel, but trying to give me a mate that only wanted me as a pawn was something else. But I survived, and I refused to let myself fall into the trap of those memories.

I was alive and he was dead. The copper taste of his blood drifted away as my heart began to slow.

The house wards shivered in my bones—a low, welcoming purr—and then swelled in a ripple that wasn’t a warning so much as acknowledgment, as the back door blew open. That was the thing about living with an Alpha: doors behaved like polite servants. They didn’t block their mistress, and Styx was “top bitch” if there ever was one. Her midnight hair was swept up in its usual high bun, her gleaming hair sticks no longer the conduits they used to be.

She didn’t knock. She didn’t need to. Goddess adjacent and Alpha in her own right, mate to our Alpha, heart of the river and the storm, the house knew her and wanted her here. The wards, old as the foundations, hummed in welcome. I felt it same as I felt my pulse.

“Penny,” Styx murmured, her voice velvet over iron as she waltzed into the kitchen with rainwater in her hair and a black garment bag over her shoulder. “What are your plans for the rest of this evening?”

Eyeing the garment bag like it was a venomous snake, I hopped off the counter and backed toward the hall.

“Busy,” I lied, because instinct was a stubborn animal. “Maybe Aster is free.”

“Liar,” she said mildly, setting the garment bag on the island like a weapon she didn’t have to brandish. Between two fingers she held a black envelope, thick and expensive, wax seal gleaming like a coin. “This came for you. I suggest you read it.”

At her raised eyebrow, I held out my hand. It was one thing to give Corvin sass, but Styx had saved my sanity and my life. Telling her no wasn’t exactly an option.

Styx’s mouth tipped, not a smile exactly, but it was a knowing that raised all the tiny little baby hairs on the back of my neck. She crossed the kitchen, stopping at a distance only apex predators would use and placed the envelope in my hand.

Black paper, cool under my fingers. The seal: gold, circled, a serpent coiled through stars. Pretty. Meaningless. I didn’t know the insignia and didn’t like that I didn’t know. I slid my thumb along the edge and broke the wax.

Translucent parchment slid free. The ink itself seemed to glimmer—glamour, not cheap shimmer—and the letters curled like smoke.

A night of mischief, magic, and mayhem awaits you.

You are cordially invited to the first All Hallows’ Eve Ball at Crossroads.

Arrive by the stroke of ten, dressed in your finest enchantments, or forfeit your place.

Masks are optional. Secrets are not.

See you soon, Penny Blackwell.

I read it twice, then flipped the card for a back that wasn’t there. “Who the hell is throwing random Fae parties in our backyard?”

“Vaelora,” Styx said. “She came through months after the portal opened. She throws events.”

“I don’t know her,” I said, my gaze snagging on the serpent again. “And why does she know me?”

Styx’s eyes were rain-dark and unreadable. “Because everyone worth knowing in Crossroads knows you. Or wants to get to know you.”

I fought off the urge to grind my teeth as I tossed the wretched thing to the island. “That’s not a selling point.”

“She’s expecting you.” Styx tapped the garment bag with two fingers, like a percussion cue. “You’ll want this.”

I absolutely did not want whatever she had in that bag. In fact, I would take just about anything but that. “I want soup and silence.”

Not that I’d get it.

“You’ll have both—after.” Her not-a-smile widened into a grin.

“You seem very confident about my schedule. You know something I don’t?”

“Almost always.” She paused. “Put the dress on. Or don’t. You’re still going.”

“Styx.” I kept my voice level. “I don’t do crowded. I don’t do strangers. I don’t do curated merriment.”

There was no way the woman who barreled into our lives all those years ago was forcing this on me. I almost missed that prickly version of the kelpie.

“I know,” she said, and somehow there was gentleness in it without pity. “And yet.”

I crossed my arms like the petulant teen I never was. “And yet what?”

“And yet the threads knot tonight.”

There it was, the thing that made most people flinch and me dig my heels in: Styx’s sight. Not fortune-teller flimflam, not coded riddles you could read six ways and blame on the moon. She didn’t grandstand with it. She just said what was, what could be, and then stared down the river until it obeyed.

“I like my threads unknotted.”

“They already are,” she said softly.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I let the quiet fill with the ordinary: a drop fell from the hem of her jacket, hit the tile, shattered into a star. The stew popped and sighed. The wards settled, recognizing the stalemate.

The black envelope lay open on the counter, a little shimmer of invitation like a live coal. The serpent watched me without blinking.

I thought of the Crossroads market and the apothecary that smelled like bruised mint and dust. I’d stepped in for mugwort and a headache draught, paused at the door because the air inside had the particular thickness of spells that worked. He’d been there, leaning on the counter as if it wouldn’t dare collapse under him. Dark hair rumpled. A mouth made for trouble. The scent hit first—vampire, sure as a blood-iron nail—rich and metallic under the softer layers of beeswax and spice. It skated along my nerves like a blade, and my wolf rose up, curious and wary and wanting to pace.

I’d left. No purchase. No names. I could still feel the brush of cool air when the door closed behind me. Instinct saved lives. It had saved mine.

I folded the invite back into its envelope and set it down. “If I go, I choose the blade.”

“Obviously,” Styx said, as if I’d suggested shoes. “And you’ll like the dress.”

“Doubtful.”

“You’ll like what it does to other people.”

That earned her a look. “Isn’t that the problem? Other people?”

“Sometimes the problem is an answer,” she said, which was annoyingly Styx of her.

“Fine.” I snatched the garment bag and took the stairs two at a time.

My room breathed when I shut the door—wards sliding into place with a soft, satisfied click along my skin. The quiet here was different. Not empty. Intentional. The window overlooked the north lawn and the dark, patient line of the trees. On the dresser: my kit, a tangle of necklaces I didn’t wear, the crystals collecting dust.

I set the garment bag on the bed and unzipped it.

Silk spilled out: blood-red, like the scarlet of a cut under moonlight and a promise you never intended to keep. Cool under my fingers, it warmed almost instantly to my touch, the fabric slinking over my skin like it had been waiting. The skirt was liquid, heavier than it looked, with a slit that meant I wouldn’t trip if this night turned ugly. The bodice was sharp where the skirt was soft, boned and angled, a hint of armor masquerading as fashion.

Getting into it was a slow dance of tugging and twisting, the silk resisting just enough to make me mutter under my breath before it finally settled into place. Someone had thought about knives. Someone had thought about me. The thigh sheath vanished beneath the fabric like it had been designed for it. The blade settled against my skin and my wolf settled with it. The boning hugged my ribs in a way that made every breath feel measured, and when I shifted, the skirt whispered against my thighs—luxury with a blade hidden underneath.

My blonde hair fell in loose waves—half-tamed from the braid I’d worn earlier, not wild enough to be defiant, not smooth enough to be court-polished. I left it that way. Let them think I hadn’t tried too hard. My blue eyes stood out sharper against the scarlet dress, and I dabbed a bit of color on my lips and cheeks to match before swiping just a touch of mascara on my lashes to make them pop. My hands weren’t entirely steady while I worked, but it was the best I could do in the time crunch.

I didn’t linger in front of the mirror. Just long enough to check my teeth and flash myself a smile until my lips didn’t tremble. I wasn’t here to admire myself. The wolf paced behind my eyes. We agreed on one thing: if we went, we went armed.

Heels last—black, deadly, the kind you could drive through a sternum if cornered. I slid them on, lifted my chin, and unlocked the door.

Styx was where I’d left her, leaning a hip against my island like she had all the nights in the world to wait for me to decide. Her gaze swept once, head to heel, no commentary, no arch humor. Just assessment, then a small nod that did something quiet to my ribcage.

“You look like trouble,” she said.

“I am.”

She almost preened like a proud mother. “Good.”

“Don’t get smug.”

“Never.” The corner of her mouth curved. “Ready?”

“Not even remotely. Do we walk?”

“We don’t do anything. You portal.” She grabbed me by the hand and gently pulled me outside. Then her fingers shaped the air, and a seam opened in the middle of the back lawn—silver-blue, edges rippling. Beyond, a forest breathed: lanterns floating like captive stars, fog pooling low, the hush of old magic settling in my lungs like a second breath.

I stopped one step away from it. Instinct prickled my nape.

“Penny,” Styx said quietly.

“I know.” I rolled my shoulders, letting the wolf rise, not to fight but to fill. My voice didn’t shake. “I’ll make an appearance and leave.”

“Mm.” Not agreement. Not denial. A prediction kept gentle so I wouldn’t bite it.

“You’ll know if I need you, right?” I hated that my voice trembled. “You’ll know if this goes sideways—”

“It won’t,” she said, and then, because she knew me, “and if it does, I’ll rain down on them so hard, they’ll wish they were never born.”

“Promise?”

She arched an eyebrow lethal enough to be classified as a weapon. “What happened the last time someone hurt a member of my family?”

Murder. Lots of it.

She nodded, likely reading the thought as easily as the weather. “Time to go, Penny. Try to have fun?”

The wards gathered like hands at my back, not pushing, just steadying. I took a breath that hurt going in and stepped forward.

You can preorder HEAL ME HERE.

About Heal Me

I swore I’d never take another mate.

Not after the last one nearly broke me—bone, blood, and soul.

So when Styx shows up at my door with a red dress, a cryptic invitation, and a look that says "trust me" (which I absolutely do not), I should’ve slammed the door in her smug face.

Instead, I ended up at the All Hallows’ Eve Ball. In heels. Surrounded by strangers. And then… him.

The vampire I’ve been avoiding for months.The one who smells like moonlight and danger.The one Fate clearly has plans for—whether I want it or not.

I didn’t come here looking for a second chance. But when the doors lock, the masks come off, and I end up trapped in a closet with him…

Let’s just say the universe has a twisted sense of humor. Healing has never been gentle.

And this time? It comes with fangs.

Heal Me is a spicy standalone romantasy set in the Immortal Vices and Virtues Universe. Every book is a guaranteed happily ever after with a satisfying ending and no cliffhangers. Perfect for fans of Immortals After Dark, Black Dagger Brotherhood, and the Demonica series.

Be sure to preorder HEAL ME before release day!