Caius's POV
The old library beneath the Vampire High Court was silent except for the rustle of pages. Dust motes floated in the dim lighting as I hunched over texts so old they crumbled at my touch.
"Careful with that one, Your Highness," my elderly librarian warned. "That manuscript predates even your grandfather."
I ignored him, my fingers tracing the faded drawings of ruby-colored wolves with glowing eyes. Three days had passed since I'd last seen Sienna, and the image of her fire wings haunted me. Not just for their beauty, but for what they meant.
"Leave me," I ordered without looking up.
When the door closed, I relaxed my perfect stance. Five centuries of being the perfect prince got tiresome. I rubbed my temples and pulled the oldest book closer – its black cover made from some unidentified skin, its pages yellow with age.
The text was written in Ancient Vampiric, a language only royal clans still learned. I translated aloud:
