Playboy Transmigration

Thousands of years ago, in a land of ancient vampires and sorcerers, there was an evil leader. A man with great power, the Master of vampire hunters, desired the only power that forbade him: the privilege to rule the Kingdom of Nork.

The Master knew that it was important, when killing a pure-blood vampire, to ensure that they brought an army of sufficient size. For the king and the queen, he brought five hundred hunters, equipped with enchanted, potent poisonous swords to kill the undead royals and their people.

From the front of the castle they saw both the northern snow and the southern, but the finer view was out across the plains and over the narrow territories. 

At some point in an achingly long history, a powerful vampire, now lost to knowledge, had built one thousand pillars out on the plateau: onyx giants thicker than a thousand-year oak, taller than a long pine. A forest of dark stone without order or pattern, covering the level ground from flank to flank. 

The hunters began to spread out between the towers. The queen could neither see nor hear her enemies approaching, but she knew their disposition. She had watched earlier as they snaked up the west trail from Nork Valley.

Vampire hunters, mercenaries from the northern borders, with snow furs bearing scraps of chainmail about them, old and young, carried destructive spears. Their Master in the midst, silver-haired sorcerers, their beards long and braided, the women with lines of yellow paint across their cheeks and foreheads like the rays of a cold sun.

The sorcerer and his wicked hunters attacked the pure-blood vampire royal castle, assassinated the beloved king and queen, and followed to do the same to James Gregori, the pure-bred vampire crown prince, as well as his siblings.

The Master sorcerer and his warriors accomplished all but the latter. He had not counted on the vampire king’s thirst for revenge and a mother’s love for her sons.

Just before expelling his final breath, the great king used his blood and energy to fill his offspring with an indestructible desire for retribution, ensuring they would fight for eternity to claim their superiority. At the same time, the queen used her last enchantment to send her children away, saving them before the Master hunter could kill them all.

And so, the vampire warriors were now bound to destroy the Master and his hunters forever.

Oh, wait, about the vampires? Those magnificent, phenomenal undead? They were the embodiment of perfection, but not as pale as those who sparkle in the sun-sort-of-vampire. Nork vampires were the epitome of superbness. They were like some hot male leads in a romantic novel where the handsome man was over six feet tall, had dark hair, tattoos, and so much testosterone-inflated muscle that he had to walk through doors sideways and who talked less. Not to mention that Nork vampire was superior to any of those romantic heroes who fulfilled the Princess Fantasy that Disney infected half of all women in modern times.

But of course, Nork vampires were powerful and skilled in bed—yes in bed, but they are not fun to be with because they talk more, which vampire women at this time appreciated, but not one thousand years later. Women in the future didn’t want a partner that could communicate feelings or sympathize with emotions; they just wanted someone who could bench press twice their body weight, and that was a fact. Thanks to Hollywood's romantic Christmas movies.

However, Nork's bloodsucker hotties never brood over something women in the future would think to be cute. They were the ideal lover, a perfect life mate, and not only were they like cavemen here, but they were also passionate, yes, impressive partners because when vampire women laid eyes on their beast of a male? Their va-jay-jay world turned into the river Nile.

And so here comes the prince. James Gregori, the Shadow Lover, as his people called him, was a gallant warrior, elegant and captivating. With dark beautiful blue-green eyes. He was alluring and, of course, sensuous and had been in bed all the time, but not alone. He was never alone. He was a man known for the ferocity of his anger and temper as well as the lusciousness of his touch and passion, and after another failed attempt to track down the hunters, he'd retired to his private chamber to savor his recent conquest. His own harems of beautiful vampire females.

That’s when the twofold essence of the enchantments hit him. Powerful and great dark magic that wouldn't let him behold or recognize his life mate, forever. A curse far beyond anything else.

But then, when he next opened his eyes, he’d found himself on another mattress—and not with his chosen harem. He was bare still, only now he was bound, a slave to the very thirst he’d elicited in his lover. Desires that had merged with the dark enchantment and sent him straight to the Slave Market, where he was shortly sold to a wicked princess, his will no longer his own, his pleasure no longer his own, his magical ring stolen and his memories wiped from his mind.

But two things could not be seized from him, no matter how fervently the princess attempted. The raw anger in his chest and the blistering need for retaliation in his veins.

The first, he would unleash. The second, he would savour forever until his very last breath. 

First with the hideous princess and her hunters and then with a sorcerer, he could not entirely remember, but a Master hunter he understood he loathed all the same.

Very soon. They would pay for something he couldn't remember. But soon.