The Vampire King's Hidden Wife

I married a man who loves me like I am his whole world.

He cooks for me. He kisses me. He looks at me like I would never lie to him.

But I am not who he thinks I am.

By day, I am his perfect wife.

By night, I hunt the kind of monsters I am supposed to kill.

And the worst part is—

The Vampire King I have been hunting for ten years…

may be sleeping beside me every night.

Clara

I watched Elias sleep beside me, the rise and fall of his breathing steady in the quiet room. His face was half-buried in the pillow, one arm draped across my waist, his grip tight even in sleep.

I brushed the hair from his forehead. He stirred, eyes drifting open with the easy trust of a man who had nothing to hide.

If I could, I would never lie to him. But I didn't have a choice.

"I have to work late tonight," I said. "So I'll be home la—"

He kissed me before I could finish.

His lips were warm, unhurried. He cupped the back of my neck, thumb tracing the line of my jaw. My fingers curled into his shirt, and for a few seconds I let myself forget the rest.

Elias was a perfect husband—too perfect, sometimes, in a way that made me wonder what I had done to deserve him.

A medical professor at university. Dark hair, steady hands, a calm voice that made people lower theirs without noticing.

We met at one of his lectures, fell into each other almost immediately, and were married two weeks later.

Most people thought I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had. But a year in, I still hadn't found a single reason to regret it. Our life was still sweet, and I wanted to protect it with everything I had.

The kiss ended, but Elias didn't pull away. His fingers moved through my hair, slow and steady, the way he always did when he thought I wasn't paying attention.

"I have a lecture tonight," he said. His voice is still rough with sleep. "But I'll be home before you. That way I'm here when you walk through the door."

He'd told me once that he arranged his schedule so I'd never come home to an empty house. So the first thing I'd see would always be him.

The guilt twisted like a blade between my ribs. I swore I'd make it up to him.

I sat up and reached for the blouse I'd laid out the night before. Elias propped himself on one elbow and watched me dress. When I fumbled with the clasp of my bra, his fingers were there before I could ask, warm against my spine, fastening it in one smooth motion.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder.

At the front door, he kissed me once more, lingering just a little longer than usual.

He smiled. A real smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look five years younger.

"See you tonight," he said.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

The door clicked shut behind me. I stood in the hallway for three seconds, still holding my smile by force of habit.

Then it faded. Slowly, the way it always did. By the time I reached the elevator, Clara Hart, devoted wife, the woman who left love notes in her husband's briefcase and burned dinner twice a month, was gone.

In her place stood someone Elias could never meet.

—

By dusk, I'd finished my day job and crossed the city to a narrow building on a street I'd never mentioned to my husband.

I had plans tonight. Just not the kind he imagined.

Every late shift, every emergency call, every apologetic text sent at nine p.m. — all of it was a cover for this apartment, and the man I met inside it.

I unlocked the door and stepped in. The space was small and stripped bare. A foldout couch, a metal desk stacked with files, a weapons locker bolted to the far wall.

No photos. No plants. Nothing that said anyone lived here.

I dropped my bag and checked the time. He was late.

The front door opened. A tall man stepped inside. Black hair, sharp blue eyes, a clean-cut face that gave away nothing.

"Dylan."

He shrugged off his jacket and draped it across a chair. Here, he was just Dylan—my stepbrother and partner, one of the few people alive who knew what I really did after dark.

"Confirmed the location," he said, rolling his sleeves to his elbows like he was getting ready for surgery. "The gathering's tonight. The Vampire King will be there."

My fingers curled against the edge of the desk until the wood bit into my skin.

"Good." I kept my voice level. "I've waited a long time for this."

Dylan held my gaze for a beat, then nodded. He didn't push. He knew what that name meant to me.

I crossed the room and spun the safe's combination. The heavy door swung open.

Two handguns fitted with suppressors. A leather roll of silver-tipped daggers. Vials of holy water packed in foam beside boxes of silver bullets.

Everything a hunter needed to walk into a nest of vampires and walk back out.

I loaded the first gun with steady hands and slid the daggers into the sheaths sewn inside my jacket.

This was the truth Elias could never know.

I was a vampire hunter.

The late nights I blamed on work, the bruises I said came from the gym, the long showers before climbing into bed so he wouldn't catch the wrong scent on my skin. All of it to keep one secret buried.

Tomorrow morning I'd climb back into bed beside my husband. I'd press my face into his shoulder and tell him work ran late.

He would believe me. He always did.

And that was the part that hurt the most.