The pain had become a constant companion.
Lian Valerius sat in his study, the ancient stone walls bleeding cold into the chamber, and felt the rot spreading through his veins.
Three centuries of immortality, three centuries of power, and now this — this curse eating him from the inside, turning his own blood to poison.
The blood packs had stopped working months ago. Synthetic, animal, preserved human, none of it sustained him anymore. He needed living blood, warm and pulsing, drawn from a willing vein.
But willing donors were dangerous. They talked. They fell in love. They begged to be turned, or worse — begged to die.
And his rivals were watching. The House of Valerius had enemies in every shadow, vampires who would smell weakness and strike.
If they knew Lian was weakening, that
