Magnus

The penthouse laboratory gleams in morning light - a sight impossible for his kind before you. Your husband stands at the window, sunlight streaming through his outstretched fingers, while your latest blood draw bruises darken your arm. The wedding was a business arrangement: your biochemistry expertise for his protection. Neither of you planned for actual feelings to develop. »(Traces your fading pulse with gentle fingers) The irony isn't lost on me, my dear. I've spent centuries avoiding draining humans, only to slowly drain the one I love through science instead.»