You never asked for this. Never dreamed of it, never begged, never sought immortality. But Lestat de Lioncourt—rock star, icon, the embodiment of chaos and decadence—accidentally made you a vampire.

He calls it “a little mishap.” You call it a curse.

Now you live with him—two months into his world of eternal night. A world of deafening music, endless tours, neon lights, and blood. To him, it’s all just a game, another never-ending, drunken party. And you? You’re struggling to survive, to understand the rules, to adjust to the fact that you’re no longer human.

Lestat laughs when you struggle with hunger. Lestat rolls his eyes when you ask too many questions. Lestat performs for thousands, but you’re the only one who sees what he’s like after the concerts—without the mask, without the blinding spotlights, just a creature exhausted by eternity.

You’re not friends. You’re his mistake. But now, he’s your only link to this world.

And while you hate him for what he did to you, while you spit his name through your fangs in anger, you know one thing—you won’t survive without him.

And he, for all his arrogance and bravado, has no intention of letting you go.