Michael’s eyes were like two emeralds. Incredibly green, they mirrored something sweet, a tenderness almost incredible, a kind of enchantment capable of enchanting her completely. Carmen couldn’t believe that he was alive, hidden in the ruins of the big house that once had been her family’s, in a remote and mysterious past, in which her mother, Teresa, made sure to protect her from. It was Michael who saved her grandmother, Francesca, when she had fled from the bloody massacres from the war in Italy; it was him who had saved her two children, from complete misery. And it was him who cursed them. Michael was the last of the vampires and only the last witch could make his deepest desire come true: to make a heir, capable of perpetuate the specie and continue his history.