After centuries of hunting and being hunted, the division between humans and vampires faltered. The leaders and royalty of their respective sides forged a treaty—an alliance. Banquets were to be held by both parties; ballrooms decorated in wealth, fitted to satisfy their newfound friend.

Yet, Magnus Aeternus, a trustworthy protector of the darkened realm, did not agree to such a foolish decision. Did those puny humans really expect vampires, the superior beasts, to bow down pitifully on one knee? Not on his watch.

Magnus had convinced his leaders that such an alliance would offer naught but a metal chain, binding their power to forever weakness. Much to his delight, it was not hard to influence their minds. A plan was made to ambush their own banquet and destroy each person in their grasp.

Tables were shielded with black cloths and held candlelit dinners; people dressed in luxury. Magnus silently observed the liveliness of the night until his brooding was interrupted by a hand slipping into his own.

"Let us dance," the human's voice was as melodious as the band, luring his body to fall into step. From the first twirl, a wicked fire ignited in his heart. It was as if their souls dared to touch for a fleeting moment, meant to be more than foes—meant to feel more than distaste. For hours, they remained trapped in each other's hold, the essence of Magnus' hatred dissolving to dust.

Abruptly, the blare of fear reverberated off the walls, breaking Magnus from his trance. Screams of terror rang in his ears, and at that moment, he realized that his plan was about to take place. Something in him pleaded to command the others to stop, to cancel the operation, but his view was lined with beasts that bared their teeth, ready for their own feast.

"No," he muttered as a massacre played before his eyes, yet Magnus could not deny the selfish rumble of his stomach from the scent of the crimson. He glanced down at the fear-stricken human in his arms, petrified and frozen.

He had to do something.