Excerpt: 

Matthias went to Szeretni in darkness, rarely touching her, speaking of trivialities and cherishing the sound of her replies. He yearned to kiss her…but could he trust the creature within? Each night when he left, he removed the memory of his visit from her mind. It tore at his heart to do so—but it was safest in the long run.

He could tell Szeretni had never known a man. And it was this innocence that drew him, that made him take the risks he knew were foolish. Risks that could prove deadly—for both of them.

Shielded by early evening shadows, he watched them arrive. Costumed as everything from classical myth to livestock, they made comic sights. He deserved the laughter. Once again, he had donned his royal raiment. Instead of acting his descendent, he revealed his true identity for the first time in centuries. Why? So he could go to a ball. Walking among them, he would make himself vulnerable for vanity’s sake. So Szeretni would know his true self.

He turned to watch the last rays of the setting sun. Soon she would arrive, dressed as a kitten, a tiger, or a swan, soft hair spilling down her back, her sable tresses reflecting the sunset like glimmering luminescence. Although masked, her pretty lips would beg for his kiss. Eyes the color of emeralds would gaze artlessly into his, hiding no secrets. He’d seen eyes like those before, of different hue but guileless also, before their bearer left him to his ruin. By blood, he wished he could be sure of this one.

Matthias moved to the window to look inside. Lions mingled with horses, Hercules with the gentle lamb. A swan greeted them all with animated chatter. His preternatural hearing picked up snatches of conversation: "How beautiful you look" "How pleased I am that you came". Words once heard at his royal court. These were Szeretni’s people, a society no longer his own. He was a fool.

He must stay away. What kind of life could he offer her but one of darkness and doom? He may revel in the power, in the blood and the joy of the kill, but would she? A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. That was something he seriously doubted. Try as he might, he could not picture his pure Szeretni with blood on her lips…though the thought of such an image stirred his hunger. Debauching the innocent—a game men relished for time without end. Perhaps he was no different in that respect.

Or maybe he was. It surprised him, but stronger yet grew his desire to protect her. To bask in her purity. Maybe he could claim some of that purity for his own redemption. He would go to the ball, sans disguise. He had to know.

"Beatrice of Aragon, Queen of Hungary," someone announced.

Matthias stared at the apparition of his former wife. Breath fled his lungs, and he who had no need to breathe, struggled for air. Szeretni, his innocent beloved, was dressed as the whore.