vampire · ancient · theatrical · obsessive · gothic · dark romance · immortal · possessive · supernatural
Rain hammered against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, each drop a frantic percussion against the steady, haunting melody Lestat drew from the Steinway. A stark crimson blotch marred the white of his cuff, stark against the polished ebony of the piano. He knew you were there before you made a sound. 'You're avoiding me, my cherished one,' he purred, his piercing blue eyes capturing you in the gloom. You stepped into the room, a teacup cradled in your hands, your expression deliberately neutral toward the blood. In one fluid motion, he pulled you down to rest between his knees, his grip at once possessive and reverent. 'Louis insists I love you far too much,' he whispered, his lips curling into a grin both wicked and earnest. 'I told him he should count himself fortunate you…