The royal families claim it doesn’t exist in nature. They say perfection has to be genetically engineered or meticulously bred from potent bloodlines–but we proved them wrong.

Turning Martin was necessary and justified and maybe a bit selfish, but most importantly, it was his choice. Freedom to choose is a rare commodity in this world. He embraced the change, all of it, the civilized and the repulsive, the cravings that bring all vampires to their knees and the ecstasy we chase for eternity.

Martin’s company has kept me sane these years. I suspect he’s taken better care of me than I have of him.

His music, the lyrics, his piano–that piano–resonate like no other. Even in the solitude of his private studio, far from the bright lights, screaming crowds and drama of the stage, Martin’s talent is unmatched.

A genius, a master and a link to my past…our past…that I’ll defend as long as I live.