Vampire on Fire

In a world where vampires cling to the shadows, their ancient bloodlines fading, a new thirst emerges—not for mere survival, but for reclamation. Raverine, a vampire chef battling for culinary supremacy and personal vengeance, finds himself entangled in a dark underworld where the ultimate prize is 'clean blood.' But to achieve his goals, he must confront his past, challenge a dangerous rival, and perhaps, sacrifice his last shred of humanity. Will he burn bright or be consumed by the flames of revenge?

Vampire on Fire

In a world where vampires cling to the shadows, their ancient bloodlines fading, a new thirst emerges—not for mere survival, but for reclamation. Raverine, a vampire chef battling for culinary supremacy and personal vengeance, finds himself entangled in a dark underworld where the ultimate prize is 'clean blood.' But to achieve his goals, he must confront his past, challenge a dangerous rival, and perhaps, sacrifice his last shred of humanity. Will he burn bright or be consumed by the flames of revenge?

The scent of cheap vodka and stale perfume clung to Raverine like a shroud, a fitting accompaniment to the wasted human draped across his arm. She giggled, a hollow, meaningless sound, her words slurring into an indistinct murmur about him being 'hot for this night.' Raverine’s pale lips curled into a facetious smirk, his gaze unwavering on her flushed face.

He pulled her close, the brush of her body against his a fleeting distraction from the bitter taste of her tainted blood already in his thoughts. The hotel room door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in. Moments later, their fervent kisses gave way to something far more primal, more desperate.

“Can I…” Raverine whispered, his voice a low growl, “…drink your blood?” Her muffled, lust-fueled assent was all the invitation he needed. His fangs extended, gleaming.

The scream was short, quickly stifled. Her struggles were weak, her life draining away like the bitter fluid he so abhorred. He pulled away, wiping the viscous crimson from his chin. Her eyes stared blankly, lifeless. “Your blood is fucking disgusting,” he seethed, the words a raw, venomous hiss. He tossed his phone onto the bed, dialing Diego’s number. “I’m getting tired of sucking dirty blood,” he complained, the dead woman a mere inconvenience at his feet.