Prologue
Her oval face was framed beautifully by shining locks of auburn hair, which had a slight curl to it in the dewy morning of the 1800's. Hundreds of years after I was first turned, there was no chance of loss of control. She had blue ice like eyes, and they told a story. One of deception. She couldn't be more than 15, the age of marrying.
I knew one thing, I had to have her. Time for the courting to begin.