PROLOGUE
CIPRIAN
Negru Castle, Carpathian Mountains
“I don’t understandwhat you see in this realm,” Marius mutters as he kicks a loose rock along the stone floor. “Mortals are so…fragile.”
“Their blood sustains my beast.” It’s an emotionless answer, one I don’t wish to elaborate upon. Particularly as my best friend and confidant is very aware as towhyI’ve chosen to reside within this realm.
“That’s a bullshit reason, Cip.” Marius only calls meCipwhen he’s trying to piss me off. It sounds like “sip,” and I fucking despise the witless nickname. “The immortals back home sate our thirst just fine, and you know it.”
I grunt.Immortalsis a false term. The humanlike beings of our home realm are onlyimmortalbecause their genetics respond favorably to Strigoi venom. Essentially, they provide blood to us as necessary sustenance, and our bites stop them from aging.
It’s created a boring existence, one that lacks a proper hunt. Which I’ve explained to Marius on countless occasions.
I refuse to be like my predecessors, all of whom relied on the trials to help them find suitable matches. I much prefer the notion of choosing someone for myself, then offering my intended mate to the Strigoi for approval.
It should save me some of the heartache my father experienced. In theory, anyway.
Regardless, Marius knows all of this.
Yet he continues to riddle me with these incessant inquiries.
“If you’re tired of leading the kingdom in my absence, just say so,Mars,” I state flatly, using the nickname I’ve given him in response toCip.
“You have a harem of seven very willing blood slaves,” he deadpans. “Trust me, I am not bored by that.”
I roll my eyes. “You created that harem after I left.” I had merely one or two blood whores I used back home, and only for biting.
That was also partly why I left.
Nothing there roused my interest.
Alas, no one here seems to be doing it for me either.
Most Strigoi indulge in sex while feasting on their prey. Not me, though. I’ve never desired more than a few sips from the vein.
Which makes it fucking impossible to create a Strigoi heir or heiress—something that is my duty to provide as the Strigoi King.
Not even others of my kind have intrigued me enough to fuck.
What I need is a toy I want to use for more than feeding.
The mortals of this world at least provide me with a challenge, particularly as monsters lurk in the shadows here, not out in the open. That means I have to be clever about my hunts, taking prey only at night, and wiping their minds before they wake.
A few have piqued my interest.
But when it came time to do more than eat, I was suddenly bored again.
I need a mate.
My beast seems convinced that she’s destined to come from this land of humans. I just haven’t found her yet.
Sighing, I glance up at the moon—the pale color I still haven’t learned to like. I miss the blood-red moons of my homeland. The crisp breezes that never still. The waters that run crimson, not blue.
This world of humans varies in temperature and climate, boasts unique horticulture throughout the globe, and creates a vast space of uniqueness everywhere I go.
This region of Transylvania is my preferred location, though. The forestry here is reminiscent of my world. Except there, it’s black and silver in color, not green.
