Blood Moon Queen: Vengeance and Desire

The French Quarter was still drunk on last night's secrets when the first vampire slipped from the shadows of Royal Street.

Aurora felt him before she saw him—a chill that had nothing to do with the October wind racing off the Mississippi. The scent of old parchment and dried roses drifted through the narrow alley, the signature perfume of the Devereux bloodline. Her three-blood heritage screamed warnings as supernatural predators closed in from all directions.

She pressed herself against the brick wall of a centuries-old mansion, counting heartbeats. Three separate pulses thudded against her enhanced consciousness: the icy stillness of vampire power, the wild drum of werewolf blood, and the electric hum of witch magic crackling through the air.

All of them hunting the same thing.

Her.

*How did they find out so fast?* Aurora thought desperately. She had been hiding in the abandoned warehouse for less than twelve hours since escaping Vincent's men. Someone had talked. Someone had spread the word that Aurora Nightshade—the impossible three-blood hybrid—was alive and in New Orleans.

A shadow detached itself from the ornate balcony above her. Aurora looked up to see pale skin and crimson eyes that glowed like embers in the darkness.

The vampires had arrived.

---

Cassandra Devereux descended from the second-story balcony with inhuman grace, her feet never making a sound as they touched the cobblestones. The vampire queen looked exactly as Aurora remembered from the old supernatural summit photographs—ageless beauty wrapped in danger, with midnight-black hair that fell like silk to her waist.

"Aurora Nightshade," Cassandra purred, her voice carrying the musical cadence of old French aristocracy. "The lost princess returns to us at last."

Six vampire lieutenants materialized from the shadows, forming a perfect circle around Aurora. Their eyes were wide with hunger, fangs gleaming in the streetlight. But it wasn't blood they craved—it was power. The kind of power that only a three-blood hybrid could provide.

"My lady," Aurora said carefully, sketching a small bow. Even cornered, diplomatic protocol mattered in the supernatural world. "I'm honored by your attention."

Cassandra laughed, a sound like crystal bells breaking. "Honored? Child, you have no idea what honor means to those of us who have waited centuries for someone like you to emerge."

The vampire queen circled Aurora slowly, predatory and elegant. "Do you know what you are, little hybrid? What you represent?"

"I know I'm a freak of nature," Aurora replied evenly. "Three bloodlines that should never have mixed."

"You're not a freak," Cassandra said, stopping directly in front of her. "You're evolution. The next step forward for our kind. With vampire speed, werewolf strength, and witch magic all flowing through your veins, you could unite the supernatural world under one banner."

"Or destroy it completely," Aurora countered.

Cassandra's smile was sharp as a blade. "Exactly. Which is why you're coming with me. The Vampire Court has use for someone with your... unique capabilities."

Before Aurora could respond, a howl echoed through the French Quarter. Long, mournful, and absolutely furious.

The werewolves had found them.

---

Elder Rhys Blackwood emerged from Dauphine Street in full wolf form, his massive silver frame nearly blocking the narrow alley. Behind him came eight pack warriors, their eyes glowing amber in the darkness. Unlike his nephew Marcus, Rhys represented the old ways—the brutal traditions that had kept the Blackwood Pack strong for three centuries.

The elder shifted back to human form with fluid grace, his weathered face set in lines of grim determination. He wore traditional pack leathers decorated with bone talismans, each one representing an enemy he had personally killed.

"Vampire," Rhys growled, his voice carrying the authority of five hundred years. "You trespass on pack territory."

Cassandra didn't even glance at him. "This is neutral ground, wolf. The Quarter belongs to no single species."

"The girl belongs to us," Rhys declared. "She carries Blackwood blood through her mother's line. That makes her pack property."

Aurora's blood chilled. She had suspected her mother might have had werewolf ancestry, but hearing it confirmed made her three-blood heritage suddenly more terrifying. If the Blackwood Pack could claim genetic ownership...

"She carries Devereux blood as well," Cassandra replied smoothly. "Her great-grandmother was one of my childer. The vampire claim supersedes yours."

"Like hell it does," Rhys snarled, his form beginning to shimmer as his wolf threatened to break free.

The vampire lieutenants hissed in response, fangs extending as they prepared for battle. Aurora found herself trapped in the center of what was about to become a supernatural bloodbath.

Then the air itself began to crackle with power, and Aurora looked up to see three figures descending from the night sky.

The witches had arrived.

---

High Priestess Celeste LaRoux landed in the center of the alley with a boom of displaced air that sent both vampires and werewolves staggering backward. Her emerald cloak billowed around her like living shadow, and the silver pentagram at her throat pulsed with contained lightning.

Two other members of the Crescent Circle flanked her—Madame Evangeline, master of blood magic, and young Thomas Boudreaux, whose necromancy skills were already legendary despite his twenty-something appearance.

"Enough," Celeste commanded, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. "You squabble like children while power itself walks among you."

She turned her ancient eyes to Aurora, and for a moment, Aurora felt like every secret she had ever kept was being laid bare.

"Aurora Nightshade," Celeste said softly. "Daughter of three bloodlines. The witch blood runs strongest in you, child. I can smell the magic burning in your veins like wildfire."

"Another false claim," Rhys growled. "The girl's power comes from her wolf heritage. Everything else is just—"

"Dilution?" Celeste interrupted, raising one silver eyebrow. "Tell me, wolf, when was the last time one of your kind could command the elements? When was the last time a vampire could speak to the dead? This child carries abilities none of us have seen in a thousand years."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you suggesting, witch?"

"I'm suggesting," Celeste replied, "that Aurora Nightshade is far too valuable to belong to any single faction. She represents a shift in the balance of power that could change everything."

The High Priestess gestured, and the air shimmered around them. Suddenly, Aurora could see what the others had been hiding—at least thirty supernatural beings surrounded the alley. Vampires perched on rooftops, werewolves crouched in doorways, witches hovered just out of sight.

This wasn't just a hunt.

This was the beginning of a war.

"Each of our species wants to claim her," Celeste continued. "But what if she chooses for herself? What if the three-blood hybrid decides which faction deserves her loyalty?"

"She doesn't get to choose," Rhys snarled. "The old laws are clear. Mixed-bloods belong to the dominant bloodline."

"And which bloodline would that be?" Cassandra asked silkily. "Vampire speed and immortality? Wolf strength and healing? Or witch magic that can reshape reality itself?"

Aurora felt the weight of dozens of supernatural gazes fixing on her. Some hungry, some calculating, some filled with an awe that made her skin crawl. These weren't beings looking at a person.

They were looking at a weapon.

"I belong to myself," Aurora said quietly, but her words carried clearly in the supernatural silence. "I didn't ask to be what I am. I didn't ask for any of you to want me."

"What you want is irrelevant," Rhys growled. "Power like yours can't be allowed to run free. You'll be controlled by someone. The only question is who."

The pack warriors began to shift, muscles bulging as they prepared to change forms. The vampires hissed, fangs gleaming. The witches raised their hands, power crackling between their fingers.

Aurora stood in the center of it all, knowing that in seconds, the French Quarter would become a battlefield. And she would be the prize they fought over.

Then she heard footsteps on cobblestone, measured and confident.

Marcus Blackwood stepped into the alley.

---

"That's enough," Marcus said, his voice carrying the absolute authority of an Alpha despite his relatively young age. "All of you. Stand down."

Rhys whirled on his great-nephew, amber eyes blazing. "Marcus! What are you doing here?"

"Stopping a war before it starts," Marcus replied evenly. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, but Aurora could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands were positioned for a quick draw of the silver knife at his hip.

He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Like he had been searching for something—or someone—with desperate intensity.

Marcus's golden eyes found Aurora's, and she felt the mate bond flare between them like a struck match. Relief, joy, and something deeper flooded through their connection.

"You're alive," he said simply.

"I'm alive," Aurora confirmed.

"Good," Marcus said. Then he turned to address the assembled supernatural forces. "The woman you're all so eager to claim is under my protection. She's also my mate. Anyone who wants to take her will have to go through me first."

Cassandra laughed. "One werewolf against all of us? Even you aren't that arrogant, young Blackwood."

"One werewolf, no," Marcus agreed. "But I'm not just representing myself tonight."

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. Within seconds, the sound of motorcycle engines filled the air. Then car doors slamming. Then the distinctive whistle of Blackwood Pack warriors taking position.

"I called in every favor I had," Marcus said calmly. "The Rousseau Pack from Baton Rouge. The Treme Coven. The Riverwalk Vampire Clan. Even some of the independent supernatural businesses that owe the Blackwood Pack protection debts."

Aurora could hear them now—dozens of footsteps, the rustle of wings, the soft padding of paws on stone. Marcus had assembled his own army.

"You see," he continued, "while you were all plotting to kidnap my mate, I was building alliances. Strange how much support you can gather when you offer mutual protection instead of mutual destruction."

Rhys stared at his great-nephew in shock. "Marcus, you can't possibly—"

"I can and I will," Marcus cut him off. "Aurora Nightshade is not a weapon to be claimed. She's not a prize to be won. She's a person with the right to choose her own path."

He stepped closer to Aurora, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"The question is," Marcus said softly, his voice meant for her alone, "what do you choose?"

Aurora looked around the alley at the supernatural beings who had come to claim her. Vampires with their cold beauty and endless hunger. Werewolves with their wild strength and pack mentality. Witches with their ancient power and arcane knowledge.

Then she looked at Marcus. The man who had jumped into the Mississippi River to save her life. The man who had grieved for her when he thought she was dead. The man who had just put himself between her and three supernatural armies because he believed she had the right to choose.

Aurora reached out and took his hand.

"I choose freedom," she said clearly. "I choose to make my own path. And I choose to walk it with someone who sees me as more than just the sum of my bloodlines."

The mate bond sang between them as their fingers intertwined.

Cassandra's beautiful face twisted with fury. "This isn't over, Blackwood. The girl is too powerful to remain unaligned. Someone will claim her eventually."

"Let them try," Marcus replied. "But they'll have to get through me first. And now they'll have to get through my allies as well."

One by one, the supernatural forces began to withdraw. Not defeated, but forced to regroup. Aurora could feel their gazes on her as they melted back into the shadows of the French Quarter.

She had won this battle.

But the war for her freedom had only just begun.

Marcus squeezed her hand gently. "Ready to get out of here?"

Aurora squeezed back. "More than ready."

As they walked away from the alley together, Aurora couldn't shake the feeling that tonight had changed everything. She was no longer just the last Nightshade seeking revenge.

She was the catalyst that would either unite the supernatural world or tear it apart.

And she still had no idea which one it would be.