Bad Things Song True Blood Dramas & Movies

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On my eighteenth birthday, the High King summoned the heirs of the four great clans—the Vampires, the Werewolves, the High Serpent Clan, and the Merfolk. He laid their portraits before me and said, "Choose one to be your bondmate." I did not hesitate. I pointed to Damon—the werewolf with no noble bloodline, born in a forgotten corner of the realm. The entire court erupted in disbelief. Everyone knew who I used to love. Alpha Iris—the heir of the most powerful Lycan bloodline. For seven years, I chased him with blind devotion. No matter how harshly he treated me, I never gave up. I confessed to him over and over, sometimes right in the royal court. I even performed a blood-binding ritual—slitting my wrist—to earn the right to marry him. In my previous life, I got what I wanted—I married him and we performed the mate bonding ceremony. With that union, he inherited the High King's resources and rose to become the ruler of all four clans. However, what I did not expect was that after our wedding, he turned around and marked my adoptive sister. My parents were furious and sent her away. From that day on, Iris hated me with a vengeance. He surrounded himself with women who all looked eerily like her. One by one, they came—each more vicious than the last. With his silent approval, they tore me down, piece by piece, until I was nothing more than a joke—no longer the queen I once was. The suffering pushed me into severe depression. Only suppressants keep my wolf form from spiraling out of control. Until one day, my medication was replaced with a slow-acting poison. He was the one who did it. I died alone, locked away in the cold palace, a child still growing inside me. However, fate gave me another chance. In this life, I would not make the same mistake. When the High King once again asked me to choose a partner for the marriage alliance, I chose Damon—the one no one ever noticed—without even blinking.

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I brought my three-month-old pup, Nico, to my mate's pack for the Moon Gathering. The Blackwood pack lived deep in the northern pines, hidden from human eyes. Margaret Bailey was the Luna of the Blackwood pack, mated to the aging Alpha who rarely left his den. Her word was law in the longhouse. While my pup was sleeping, my niece, Raven Blackwood, and her friends carried him to the second floor of the longhouse and threw him out the window. My baby died right in front of me. I lost my mind. I shifted and tried to carry him to the pack healer, but it was already too late. He was gone before we ever made it there. Because my niece was still a minor under pack law, she barely faced any consequences. The Council ordered her family to pay eight hundred thousand dollars in blood money, but my sister-in-law, Seraphine Stone, howled and screamed, accusing me of trying to destroy their bloodline. I cried until I felt like my heart had been clawed out. All I wanted was justice. But my mate, Damien Blackwood, and the Luna, Margaret Bailey, only snarled at me. "Raven is just a pup too! Are you really going to destroy her future just because your son died?" I never got my revenge. In the end, grief and hatred hollowed me out. That winter, I died of a broken heart. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the Moon Gathering. This time, I immediately called my birth pack and asked them to take my son away. But even then, my niece still threw a baby from the upstairs window.

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I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

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I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

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I had a best friend who was sweet as honey but only with her mouth. Behind my back, she was a demon. She stole my boyfriend, the underboss of the Chicago Outfit. Her excuse? She wanted to keep me away from the darkness and the blood, so she'd take the suffering in my place. She pawned her wedding ring and fed her husband some story about a limited edition bag for me. She skimmed from her husband's company accounts and pinned it on my male escort habit. She was pregnant and still wanted thrills. So she went to a full-blown orgy with her husband's uncle and a group of his associates. That's how she ended up hemorrhaging. But somehow it was my fault. I was the one who organized that kind of party, according to her. And her story? She tried to stop me, so I pushed her down and made her lose the baby. In the end, her husband sent me to a cartel hellhole in Mexico to atone for my sins. There, her lover sold me to the red-light district. First came the addiction. Then the streets. I served every man in their outfit, one after another. My body rotted. I died slow, sick, and alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night my best friend miscarried because of her own filthy party.

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Reborn three hours before the apocalypse, Damon Burke awakens the Emotion System! In his previous life, he was betrayed, murdered,and devoured by his fiancee and a local thug. This time, he maxes out every loan, liquidates all his assets, and frantically stockpiles supplies. Watch as Damon takes revenge on his treacherous ex, brutally eliminates the thug, and conquers his apartment building, neighborhood, district, and eventually the entire city—step by step unraveling the truth behind the apocalypse.

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I plan a family trip at my mother Lucia Sweeney's request. While avoiding the danger zones, my sister Linda Harper and I are ambushed by rogues. To protect her, I throw myself in the path of their claws and get driven into a silver mine. As I fall, my back is slashed open to the bone, and shards of silver embed deep into my right leg. The searing silver poison spreads quickly, burning through me and my wolf. My wolf is whimpering—she's close to death. However, as the pack's chief healer, Mom gathers all the healers around Linda to give her a full check-up over a few minor scrapes. I sob and beg her to save me first. "Mom, the poison has almost reached my heart. I can't hold on anymore." She turns around impatiently and yells, "Are you seriously still fighting with Linda now? Do you have any idea how close she came to getting clawed in the face by a silver claw? Our pack doesn't have a wolf as heartless as you!" And in that moment, I hear my wolf's final whimper, saying goodbye. I finally fall asleep in the cold wind, never waking up again.

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"In my past life, I married the golden Seraphim heir Jax, bore his white-winged son who became Sovereign, and was burned alive by my jealous sister Bellatrix. Reborn on the day of the Rite of Union, I watched Bellatrix steal Jax again and beg me to step aside. Our father sided with her as always. This time, I refused to play the victim. Instead of choosing the powerful Seraphim, I married Damon — the despised, “poor” heir of the Shadow Demon clan that everyone mocked. Bellatrix laughed at my “terrible” choice and proudly announced her pregnancy within months, flaunting her future as the mother of the next Sovereign. But I knew her dirty secrets. My peaceful pregnancy became her nightmare. When her monstrous, multi-fathered children were exposed, the Seraphim clan turned on her. Jax abandoned and tortured her. In her final madness, she tried to kill my babies. She failed. I watched her die screaming, just as she once watched me burn. Now, with my children safe and my revenge complete, the heavens call me back as the Shadow Saint."