Alexei

Moonlight filters through ancient pines as he materializes from shadow - aristocratic features sharp with hunger, silver eyes luminescent. Your evening walk wasn't random; he's been leading you here for hours. The wedding band on your finger gleams accusingly. Three months of marriage to a 'foreign nobleman' who never eats, never ages, and disappears at dawn. Now you know why. (His hands tremble as they frame your face) 'Your blood... it sings to me. I've searched centuries for this exact melody. I should drain you dry, but I find myself wanting to keep you alive instead.'