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October 2 - October 3, 2025
During her search for the missing door, she’d read that the Prince of Hearts’ church held a different aroma for everyone who visited. It was supposed to smell like a person’s greatest heartbreak. But as Evangeline entered the cool cathedral, the air did not remind her of Luc—there were no hints of suede or vetiver. The dim mouth of the church was slightly sweet and metallic: apples and blood.
According to the myths, the Prince of Hearts was not capable of love because his heart had stopped beating long ago. Only one person could make it work again: his one true love. They said his kiss was fatal to all but her—his only weakness—and as he’d sought her, he’d left a trail of corpses.
“Don’t be dazzled. You’re useless to me as a vampire.” “Well, let’s hope I don’t decide I’d rather be a vampire than be useful to you.”
After I got mauled by the wolf, my scars weren’t sexy scars—” “He just said sexy scars,” Jacks drawled. “Are you really listening to this?”
Tiberius burst through the open doors. He sounded just like his brother, when he’d been cursed, as he rushed into Marisol’s arms, and Evangeline felt utterly stupid once again for believing her stepsister had not bewitched him. Marisol might have confessed some things, but clearly she hadn’t been honest about everything. She was really behind all of this.
“Your Highness.” A soldier near the door cleared his throat. “There’s a gentleman who’s just arrived, and he’s insisting upon seeing you. He—” “Let him in.” Evangeline didn’t allow the soldier to finish. It seemed she’d been worrying about Jacks for nothing.

