Both Are Mine for the Taking
His amber eyes burned with royal pride and defiance.
My sister, Lilith, was the first to rise from her stone coffin.
She moved with a practiced fragility.
"Lady Lylandra," she murmured, biting her lip. Her voice was pitifully sweet. "May I choose first?"
Our Sire nodded, intrigued.
Lilith's form dissolved into a wisp of blood-red mist, reappearing instantly before the priest. She reached for him.
"Lilith," our Sire stopped her. "He is a Knight of the Holy Temple. Holy light flows through his veins. Are you certain you can handle him?"