They named him James. He didn’t know if that was his real name. He didn’t remember anything about himself. Whenever he attempted to recall, his head throbbed with pain, discomfort, and anguish, and his mind shut down. All he knew was that he was a vampire, and the females here were sorcerers. Powerful. He loathed this kingdom and its people—and he would eradicate them. One day. Soon. Just as he’d killed one of their precious mistresses on the cliff. Mistress Leticia.
Impatience rushed through him. His captors thought him vulnerable and weak. They kept him on the razor edge of starvation, giving him a drop of blood in the morning and a drop of blood at night. That was all. He was taunted and tortured frequently. Leticia, the mistress, in particular. The oldest daughter of the Master Sorcer
