The knife still fits her hand like a promise, and the blood still hits like a drug she doesn’t want to quit.

But now she has an immortal shadow—gorgeous, brooding, and utterly obsessed. As far as he’s concerned, that edge belongs in his chest—buried to the hilt, wringing heat from every raw, trembling nerve.

So when she drives it into someone else, the fragile thing they’ve been pretending is normal shatters on impact. And before they can even try to put it back together, the copycat starts staging kills in Vera’s style, ending with a bloody offering left on her doorstep.

Now, the Goddess’s past is clawing its way into the present, something ancient is watching from the dark, and if they can’t get their shit together fast…well. Love won’t be the only thing that ends in blood.

A novella.