Aria Valderi is a day walker, a vampire that can walk in the sun. Being a descendant of the original queen of the vampires has its perks, but finding out her mate is a wolf shifter isn't one of them. He's insufferable, bossy, and too damn sexy for his own good.

Trevan Stone knows Aria is his. Unfortunately, his tough little vamp has been wreaking all kinds of havoc and now too many people want her dead. It's going to take more than Trevan can do as a shifter to protect his woman.

Trevan has a secret. One that could put an end to their future together, but it’s not nearly as big as the one her people have, which could end the future of the entire clan. If he can save her from the vampire council that wants her destroyed, there might be a chance for them to work through their issues. But saving her means giving up the reason for his existence, the drive that has pushed him for the last eighty years.

Reader Note: This book is all about a sassy plus-sized vampire who knows what she wants and a hot, smooth talking alpha wolf who can't fight his need for her. There is massive use of dirty words, so if you're a prude this is not the book for you. If you like sarcasm and hot sex with no filter, this is just your thing. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Sera

Sera Quinn sat in her rental car outside The Hearth & Hollow Inn, engine off, hands trembling slightly as she gripped the steering wheel. The mist-wrapped town of Hollow Oak stretched before her like something from a storybook, all weathered stone and wrought iron lampposts emerging from tendrils of fog that clung to the Blue Ridge Mountains. She'd been sitting here for twenty minutes, questioning every decision that had led her to this moment.

Three months ago, she'd been untouchable. Sera Quinn of "Living Your Best Life with Sera" commanded 2.3 million followers who hung on her every perfectly curated word. Brand partnerships with major lifestyle companies. A penthouse apartment in Nashville. A Tesla Model Y that photographed beautifully against any backdrop. Speaking engagements at influencer conferences where twenty-somethings treated her like a guru of authentic living.

The irony wasn't lost on her now.

Her phone buzzed with another notification, and she glanced at the screen out of habit. 847,000 followers. Down another two thousand since yesterday. The number had become an obsession, a constant reminder of how spectacularly she'd destroyed everything she'd built.

The Target parking lot incident played in her mind like a horror movie she couldn't turn off. She'd been filming a sponsored "authentic grocery haul" for a wellness brand, talking about the importance of mindful shopping while grabbing organic produce. The teenage employee had moved her carefully arranged display of avocados while she was recording, and something inside her had snapped.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to set that up?" she'd screamed at the kid, her voice shrill and ugly. "This is my job! I need those avocados in that exact spot for the lighting!"

The worst part? Her phone had kept recording. Her followers watched in real-time as Sera Quinn, queen of mindful living and authentic self-care, berated a minimum-wage teenager over fruit placement while her ring light cast harsh shadows across her twisted face.

The video had gone viral within hours, but not in the way that built careers. Comment after comment dissected her "authentic" brand, exposing the careful curation behind every spontaneous moment. Fellow influencers who'd smiled at industry parties suddenly couldn't remember her name. Brand deals evaporated overnight. Her management company dropped her via email.

Fake. Privileged. Out of touch. Another influencer showing her true colors.

The comments had hurt because they were true. Somewhere along the way, her life had become performance art, every moment calculated for maximum engagement. She'd forgotten how to exist without an audience.

Her bank account told the story in brutal numbers. The penthouse lease she couldn't afford. The Tesla repo'd last week. Credit cards maxed out maintaining an image that no longer generated income. She'd liquidated everything except her camera equipment and enough savings for this last desperate gambit.

Hollow Oak. Fellow influencers whispered about it at conferences and in private DMs. A mysterious mountain town where burned-out creators went to "find themselves." The stories were always vague but compelling. Someone who'd lost their way and emerged with content that felt genuinely authentic. A place that somehow helped people remember why they'd started creating in the first place.

Sera had dismissed it as hipster nonsense until she'd found herself googling "mountain towns near Nashville" at three in the morning, crying over her laptop in an Airbnb she could barely afford.

The mountain air hit her face as she finally opened the car door, crisp and clean in a way that made her lungs ache. It smelled like pine and woodsmoke and something indefinable that seemed to whisper promises she was afraid to believe. Her ankle boots—designer, but thankfully practical for once—found purchase on gravel as she hauled her suitcase from the trunk.

Fall had seemed like a good time to get away to a secluded mountain town. She embraced the October air and took a cleansing breath.

The inn rose before her like something from a travel blogger's fever dream, all ivy-covered stone and diamond-paned windows glowing with warm golden light. A hand-painted wooden sign swayed gently in the breeze: "The Hearth & Hollow Inn - Rest for Weary Travelers." Even the font looked genuine, like someone had cared about making it beautiful rather than optimizing it for screenshots.

She shouldered her camera bag with practiced ease. The equipment inside represented her last hope—if she could create something authentic here, something that felt real instead of performed, maybe she could rebuild. Maybe she could remember who she'd been before she'd become a brand.

Her phone buzzed again. A text from her former assistant, now working for a lifestyle guru who'd swooped in to claim Sera's abandoned partnerships: "Saw your story about the mountain retreat. Very 'Eat Pray Love' of you. Hope you find what you're looking for! 💕"

The passive-aggressive sweetness made Sera's jaw clench. Six months ago, that girl had been fetching her coffee and managing her calendar. Now she was probably making more money than Sera had left to her name.

She deleted the message without responding and tucked the phone into her jacket pocket. Whatever happened in Hollow Oak, she was done performing for an audience that didn't care about her beyond entertainment value.

The inn's front door looked solid and welcoming, painted deep forest green with brass hardware that had developed an authentic patina. No ring doorbell, no security cameras visible, no QR code for contactless check-in. Just a simple door that invited her to knock.

Sera took a deep breath, grabbed her suitcase handle, and walked toward what she desperately hoped would be her comeback story. The mountain mist swirled around her like it was keeping secrets, and something about the way it moved made her skin tingle with possibility.

She was Sera Quinn, former queen of lifestyle content, current cautionary tale about the dangers of living for likes. But maybe, in this mist-wrapped town that seemed to exist outside normal reality, she could figure out who she was supposed to be when the cameras stopped rolling.

The gravel path led to the front door, and with each step, the weight of her failures felt a little lighter. Hollow Oak waited to judge her, and for once, that felt like exactly what she needed.