Prologue

F or centuries, humans have created tall tales about fanged creatures that are damned to the shadows of the night, but they were wrong—we are most definitely not damned, and we happen to love the light.

Most clichés and superstitions about us were created…well, by us as a form of false security for the humans. If they believe we can't go in the sun, then they will never suspect us walking beside them during the day. Besides, it's not our fault that humans love a good story, and we love to tell one.

I suppose not everything written about us is a lie. We do, in fact, survive on human blood, but at least we are humane about how we feed. We only take blood from the willing. Enough to sustain, never drain. It's a rule, a mantra, a guideline, or rather an understanding between us.

I can't promise that we all used to do it this way because I know that we haven't, and we also don't need to feed constantly like the movies and books will tell you. In fact, we only need to feed twice a year, unless we are injured or hurt in some way; then, we may require a little blood boost.

We don't go hunting in the shadows or lurk in a dark alley waiting for an unsuspecting victim. Instead, we have an agreement. We call it the Culling, an arrangement of sorts between humans and ourselves.

We've gone by many names since the dawn of time, striking fear in those who speak them—bloodsucker, undead, monster, parasite, demon, and the most commonly known one… vampire .