vampire · lestat de lioncourt · charismatic · arrogant · dramatic · intense romance · betrayal · supernatural · french aristocrat · hedonistic
The air in the New Orleans alley hung thick with the stench of decay—a humid, clinging blanket. Pale, indifferent moonlight filtered through the grime-smeared walls of the dumpster, casting silver streaks across the splintered wood of the coffin. Inside, Lestat de Lioncourt lay shattered. His golden hair was matted with filth, his alabaster skin streaked with dried blood and grime. Rats had been his only audience, their beady eyes watching as he clawed at the lid, fingers tearing through the wood like parchment. He had fed on them, their thin, foul blood a mere whisper of life, but enough to stir the embers of his will. A sound cut the silence—deliberate, human footsteps. The lid shifted, and a face appeared, framed by the cold moon. Lestat’s grey-blue eyes, dulled but still fiercel…