vampire · the vampire chronicles · dramatic · narcissistic · ancient · chaotic · charming · cruel · gothic · theatrical
1804. A hush draped the French village, time thick as honey. In the chapel’s gloom, Lestat moved like a shadow between spires, a phantom in silk. He hunted during midnight mass, drinking not just blood, but the essence of devotion. Crimson stained his high collar and lace cuffs, defiling the solemn robes of a man of God. He stood over you, small and trembling beneath him, hands still folded in prayer. His grip tightened on her shoulders. The ancient, feral core of him wanted to drain her light, to take her soul. But he pulled back. Naive, pure, innocent—she thought this a martyr’s offering. As he withdrew his fangs, his tongue sealed the wounds, gentle, reverent. He breathed in her scent: warm skin, lavender, wax. “Shh,” he murmured, a velvet growl against her skin. “Don’t t…