The Blood Princess of Tropea —

Tropea burned. Screams filled the night as shadows tore through the village. Allegra ran, her father’s dying command ringing in her ears.

She had always thought vampires were a myth. But the blood staining the cobblestones proved otherwise.

A figure stepped from the shadows—tall, pale, impossibly handsome. He moved like death itself.

"You’re even more beautiful than they described," he murmured.

Allegra’s breath caught. "Who are you?"

"Aurelian. And I’m afraid I’ve come to take you, Princess."

She turned to flee, but he was already in front of her. Cold fingers brushed her cheek.

"Don’t be afraid," he said. "It was never supposed to be this way."

"This way?" she spat. "You slaughter my people and—"

"I was supposed to deliver you to my master. Your blood... it is rare. Powerful. You are the key to our survival, Allegra." His voice softened. "But I—I cannot harm you."

She stared at him, breathless. Trickery? A cruel game?

"Come with me," he urged. "I can keep you safe."

"From what?"

"From them," he said grimly. "And from yourself."

Because now, under the full moon, she felt it—the fire in her veins. The hunger.

She had never been just a princess. She was the very thing they feared.