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"More," the Vampire King growled, discarding the third lifeless body he'd drained that night onto the floor. He savored each drop of the rich, crimson liquid he'd consumed.

A rising bile scorched his throat; he had become a ravenous monster, forsaking nearly all reason. The woman had convulsed, gasped, and struggled, but he'd held her fast. Only when her eyes became glassy and vacant, and her veins were as parched as a dry chalice, did he relinquish his hold.

Grimacing, the Vampire King failed to keep the blood down. Cursed. He felt more wretched than ever.

Three days prior, he had commanded his servants to ready the castle for his nuptials with the High Priestess of the Vampyr Realm. He trailed the High Priest who would officiate, walking resolutely as the sun concealed itself behind an ominous cloud, reflecting the shadowed despondency of his mood.