Princess redeemed, p.1
Princess Redeemed, page 1
part #1 of Vampire Princess Diaries Two Series
PRINCESS REDEEMED
A VAMPIRE-WEREWOLF URBAN FANTASY ROMANCE
VAMPIRE PRINCESS DIARIES TWO
HELEN HARDT
CONTENTS
Princess Redeemed
Praise for Helen Hardt
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Epilogue
Excerpt from Spades
Acknowledgments
Also by Helen Hardt
About the Author
PRINCESS REDEEMED
VAMPIRE PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK TWO
This book is an original publication of Helen Hardt
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work that have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized by, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Copyright © 2025 Helen Hardt, LLC dba Hardt & Sons
Cover Design: Helen Hardt
Edited by Eric J. McConnell
First published via Kindle Vella and Ream, 2023-2025
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-952841-41-5
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PRAISE FOR HELEN HARDT
Wow! Mind just blown! A complete mindf**k…
~GoddessWithanAttitude on Spades
“Literally perfection.”
~Read with Aimee on My Heart Still Beats
“Helen Hardt is a master at making you fall for the bad boy.”
~Words We Love By on Savage Sin
“Hardt spins erotic gold…”
~Publishers Weekly on Follow Me Darkly
“22 Best Erotic Novels to Read”
~Marie Claire Magazine on Follow Me Darkly
“Intensely erotic and wildly emotional…”
~New York Times bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones on Follow Me Darkly
“Christian, Gideon, and now…Braden Black.”
~Books, Wine, and Besties on Follow Me Darkly
“This red-hot tale will have readers fanning themselves.”
~Publishers Weekly on Blush
“Scintillating…”
~Publishers Weekly on Bloom
“Helen's intelligent writing style and skills have made this story a must-read.”
~FireSerene Reads on Bloom
“It's hot, it's intense, and the plot starts off thick and had me completely spellbound from page one.”
~The Sassy Nerd Blog on Rebel
“This book was fantastic! It was steamy, funny, romantic, and just about any other emotion you can think of…”
~Steamy Book Mama on Lily and the Duke
“Craving is the jaw-dropping book you need to read!”
~New York Times bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones on Craving
"Completely raw and addictive."
~#1 New York Times bestselling author Meredith Wild on Craving
“Helen Hardt has some kind of skill I don’t have the words to describe. Her writing is addictive. She sucked in my mind and I just don’t want to read anything but her right now!”
~OMGReads Blog
“Helen Hardt…is a master story teller.”
~Small Town Book Nerd
For my father
1
I’m numb.
So very numb. Surprised. Even a little happy. And numb.
I arrive back at my place and look for something—anything—that seems familiar to me.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
This is no longer home.
Home is where Rogan is…and right now? I don’t even know if he’s alive.
We’re mates, right? If he were truly gone, I’d feel it. Right?
“I don’t fucking know,” I say out loud.
All I know is the results of my blood tests threw me for a fucking loop.
You’d better be alive, Rogan.
What will I do? What will I do without the man I love? How will I deal with what’s to come?
My thoughts are cut off when I remember the file folders. There they still sit on the coffee table, where I threw them before I went to the hospital.
I plunk down on my couch and open the one marked Victor Rogan.
And I drop my jaw.
Medical files. My father has Rogan’s medical files. How? He must have hacked them somehow—or rather, hired someone to hack them.
Or—
Fuck. He used mind control to get them. Such a damned hypocrite! Always telling me there’s no excuse for misusing mind control.
Of course, he’d get around that by telling me this wasn’t a misuse. That he needed these records. But why?
I’m too curious not to look. He’s my mate, so his health is certainly my business.
Height, weight, basic physical characteristics.
And blood work. A lot of blood work.
The usual stuff, of course. Blood counts. Metabolic panel. Lipid panel. Liver count. Thyroid. Cardiac biomarkers…
Testosterone? Rogan had a blood test for the male hormone? Odd in a healthy young male.
And androstenedione. Dehydroepiandrosterone. DHEA sulfate. Dihydrotestosterone. All androgens. Male hormones.
But more confusing?
Rogan has blood panels measuring his female hormones as well. Estrogen and Progesterone, plus cortisol.
All within normal limits for a healthy male. A healthy male wolf? I guess so.
But why?
Then more tests that I don’t recognize…
Until—
Oh. My. God.
I push the folder aside and open the one marked “Hannah.”
Medical records. Almost identical to what I found in Rogan’s folder. All my hormone counts, as well as…
Fuck.
Both of us were tested regarding pheromone reaction.
Androstadienol, androstadienone, androstenone, androstenol, and androsterone. Plus some I don’t recognize that I assume are more prevalent in wolves. Or vampires. Or both. Hell, I don’t know.
Then—
An injection. My record indicates I was given an injection three days before I left for Las Vegas—what my father told me was a mixture of yarrow and gingko biloba that would help quell my hunger for blood.
It didn’t.
Because it was never meant to.
It wasn’t yarrow and gingko biloba. It was a mixture of pheromones blended specifically to attract Victor Rogan and for me to be attracted to him.
All planned. All perfectly executed by my father.
He made this happen. He made Rogan into my mate.
I lean back into the couch.
He’ll jump through all kinds of hoops to get to you.
You’re controlled by nature. Nature has led you to Rogan. But the laws of nature also tell us that what controls us can also be controlled.
My father knew. He’s a good actor. His surprise when I accused him of knowing fooled me.
And my stepfather knew. He knew nature could be controlled, and that it was controlled in my case.
I’m not Rogan’s mate. And he’s not mine.
It’s all an illusion . An illusion orchestrated for—
For what?
I don’t know, but I’ll find out.
“This will never be over. Never. Do you hear me, Hannah? This will never fucking be over.”
God, I miss him. I love him. But it is over.
Rogan hasn’t come for me. Perhaps the injection has worn off. Perhaps…
God…
Dad knew.
He knew it was wearing off. That’s why he brought me back here. The sharp pain must have been a sign that the injection was weakening. He knew I’d go to the ER—how? I’m not sure—and he made sure the nurse gave me…
The shot.
That shot I received wasn’t a tetanus booster.
It was…
I rub my arm.
He’ll come for me now. Rogan will be sure to come for me.
So I can’t be here.
I love him too much to condemn him to a life with someone he’s not meant to be with.
I rise, pack a quick bag, and then rub my abdomen as I stand at my open door, ready to leave.
The test results. Results I wasn’t expecting. Results I didn’t know could even occur.
The results that surprised me. Made me happy. Made me numb.
A child.
I’m carrying Rogan’s child.
Birth control pills don’t work when you don’t take them, and you don’t take them when you’re being dragged in and out of parallel worlds so often that you don’t know what day it is or how much time has passed.
“At least I won’t be alone,” I say to my belly. “Your father isn’t mine. He was never mine. But you are. You’re mine, little one. We’ll always have each other. And if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll figure out why this all happened. I’ll find the truth.”
I hastily pack a duffel bag with all the documents I stole from my father’s office along with a good supply of black jeans, tank tops, and leather boots.
Plus my pistol and the knife I stole from Rousseau.
Rogan is in the middle of a war in the ether, but still, he’ll come for me. He’ll scent me, thanks to the injections.
Why?
Why would my father do this to me? And how? He’s no scientist. What does he know about pheromones?
I don’t know where the answers lie, but I have nine months to figure it out.
I know one thing, though.
I did not cut out the hearts of those two vampires.
And I will fucking prove it.
2
“Do you believe I cut out those vamps’ hearts?”
“No, Hannah. I do not. Why would I have sent you to Rogan if I already had the answers I wanted you to find?”
“I sent you to Rogan to—”
Then I was back in Chicago, in my father’s office, the pain unbearable.
And now…I’m back where I started. Freshly inoculated with pheromones to attract one Victor Rogan, and—
“Oh, my God,” I say out loud. “It’s all so simple. I didn’t cut out those hearts because I’m not Rogan’s mate. I never was.”
And my father…
He knew.
He knew the whole time. So why did he entertain the idea that Rogan may be right?
I scoff. Of course. Because he had to keep me believing we were mates.
It’s so clear now. I left the bunker and went to find my father, but Rogan didn’t follow me.
He didn’t follow me because my pheromones had worn off.
But they’re in fucking full force now.
I touch my abdomen.
If anything my father injected me with brings harm to this baby, I’ll commit regicide in a minute flat. Maybe they’ll call me a king slayer.
I draw in a breath.
They’re only hormones. Pheromones. Right? Substances that are similar to what my body makes on its own.
I need an ultrasound. I need to see that my baby’s okay.
But I’m not going back to that ER. Not where the mind-controlled nurse works—the one who injected me with this shit. And Jennifer, the demon phlebotomist who can read minds and claims that demons simply want to peacefully coexist.
Man, has she been separated from her people for too long.
Demons don’t want to coexist peacefully, at least not while my stepfather is in charge. He’s evil personified, and he’s not happy unless he’s making everyone around him miserable. I should know. He made me miserable from the moment he married my mother.
I grab my duffel and head out, flagging down a cab and heading to my place of employment—Ridgeview Hospital—where I’m currently on an extended leave of absence from my job as a physician’s assistant in the ER. Night shift, of course. Daylight has arrived now, which means my supervisor, Margot the Bitch, won’t be there. Good thing. I can’t stomach a run-in with her right now.
What I need is blood. It’s been a while since I last fed. Rogan’s alpha wolf blood, and damn, it’s the most potent elixir around. Dark chocolate and lusty red wine with a berry finish—there’s nothing like it.
A heavy sigh escapes my throat. How can I live without his blood? It’s become as necessary to me as air. A visit to my hospital’s blood bank sounds like dog chow when you’re craving pizza.
But it will have to do. I’m drinking for two now, and I need to stay strong.
“Thanks.” I throw some bills at the cabbie and drag my duffel bag through the main entrance of the hospital.
The bag is too large to fit in my locker, so I stash it in a supply closet, grab my hospital ID, and head to the blood bank.
The corridors are bustling. Not what I’m used to on the night shift, but I’ll use some mind control if I must to get the sustenance I need. The hospital stores whole blood in a refrigerated unit housed in the pathology department. The ER, where I work, has its own blood bank, but I can’t risk going there in the middle of the day. They’ll be way too busy.
I breeze through pathology, flashing my hospital ID, and the scent of blood leads me to the storage unit. I look around. No one seems to care that I’m there, so I slide my ID through the card reader, unlocking the door.
I touch the handle—
“Excuse me, but what do you think you’re doing?”
3
I turn.
A blond woman in a lab coat eyes me.
Yeah, I probably should have worn something besides leather pants and a spandex tank. What was I thinking? Normally I wear scrubs to work.
I hold up my ID. “Bates, ER. We’re out of O neg.”
Her gaze lands on my boots. “I haven’t heard anything about that.”
“You’re hearing it now. From me.” I flash my ID once more.
She grabs it and stares at it.
I yank it back from her. “If you don’t mind, I’m in a hurry. We’ve got emergencies in the ER.”
“Emergencies?”
Seriously? “Uh…yeah. That’s why they call it the emergency room.” I walk past her and into the blood bank, expecting her to go on her way.
