Steampunk Vampire Novels & Stories

He was hungry for it, yet it didn't smell nice to him. Damien moved in the dark towards the main city, searching for one's blood that would satisfy him. He was nearing the main city when a hoard of people beleaguered him. They weren't humans. Most of them had odd-coloured hair and white eyes. They were Whigans. Whigans were beings that transitioned from humans to vampires. Those creatures had everything a normal vampire had, except a human form. When humans transform into Whigans, they lose their ability to retain their human physique forever

Everything you thought you knew about vampires is a lie. Ok, not really. Azrin might have been acting a bit overdramatic, but still, some of the stuff in human fiction was just wild. Rapidly the Chestnut-haired male flipped through the tattered remains of a human novel. Mentions of garlic, mirrors, and metal stakes to the heart, flittered across his viridian eyes. How they came up with some of this was absolutely fascinating. Scribbling down illegible notes to anyone but himself- scratch that. To anyone but himself and one other, Azrin began reaching for the next volume in the series when a soft click and the shuffling of booted feet caught his attention.

He would tell her, but only when the time was right. "Hmm… Let me put it like this, it's pretty much the same grouping as humans. You get both good and evil, and sometimes those who are caught in between. You see, being a vampire doesn't turn you into a monster. It only enhances what's already there. If a murderer got turned, they'd most likely be beyond evil and if it were someone good, say part of a dog rescue team or something, their pure spirit and good energy would be turned up." He explained.

Henry tried to speak in a very serious manner but his eyes gave away the mischief he was planning. With a sarcastic smile on my face, I said, "Henry, you do realise that that's not how a Vampire's age works, right? And, I am a vampire king so obviously I don't freaking work like normal vampires even. So, how do you expect me to work with a human's age system. They don't even live past eighty-five as a matter of fact."

When they were approaching to kill him, the hate, anger and the thirst for vengeance had forced Gordon to become an unstoppable beast to slaughter enemies. At the mere end of war, when Gordon, his pack and other allies invaded the kingdom of vampires he met Stephanie. She was one of their sex slaves who were tied up with silver bound to avoid her from shifting. Vampire would have werewolves as their keep or sex slave because they were more resistant to pain and all the vice they put them through, however Vampire use human more often mostly to feast on their blood. One glance at Stephanie, he knew she was a royalty, her beauty and her submissive nature had attracted him. He had sex with many

he asked, slightly tipsy from all the wine. Vlad snorted, “That is child’s play. The author, what’s her name? Stephanie something reduced vampires into whining pussies.” He shook his head and chugged down another glass of wine. Alcohol had no effect on him, he could down a crate of beer and still recite Shakespeare’s Hamlet from beginning to end. The only thing he couldn’t do was to rally his kind to join Suzanne in the fight. And for that, he felt remorseful. Hans who sat at the head of the table nursed his glass slowly, lost in his thoughts. Thomas continued rambling on, “How about Anne Rice? Did you inspire her as well?”

He turned, a sword flashed, a bright crimson stream colored his tunic and vest. Sailor Fird slashed a man over his face; Albin slashed a buccaneer's neck, the man fell to the ground, trying to stop the life fluid. The poodle around him became larger. Albin turned, made a sign with his arms. The blood, change density, rose up and started boiling. It divided itself into two exact copies of the dead sailors. The first blood-sailor slashed a man across the face, its sword flashed. A man held parts of his skin from falling. A buccaneer rushed, the blood-sailor avoided the blow, slashed the man across his groin. The blood-sailor turned, a harpoon pierced his chest. He slowly returned to the bloody

“You think I’m crazy, but that’s the only explanation that makes sense.” I scoffed. “You sound like a conspiracy theorist. Vampires don’t exist, and you’ve got to stop reading all those fantasy books.” Before she could say anything else, I grabbed another slice of toast and breezed out of the apartment. My condolences to the victims, but vampire attacks were just so stupidly unrealistic. Like creatures of the night actually existed. Right, sure. “Mr. Vale’s not in right now.” Celine said at the reception, looking me up and down.

The people at the inn will notice that something is wrong. I understood what it meant when I saw Ryson drinking blood from that maid. Feeding on humans. On weak people. I had read too many books, watched too many movies, heard too many stories about myths and legends, liked fiction very much. Where humans and vampires didn't get along. Most stories ended in romance, hate, war and death. I wondered how my story will be like seeing that my life is now twisted with these creatures. Vampires. Just saying the name creeps me out. Chills running up and down my spine like waves on the sea.

It was enough to make him puke. Never would he give up fresh human blood, or the thrill of the hunt, or the ecstasy of the bite. Baal and his followers were traitors to the very definition of vampirism. An abomination. A disgrace. And just when Stephan thought it couldn't get any worse, they managed to sink even lower, plummeting from betrayal into the absurd. Two years ago, Baal had introduced his latest invention—Vampire Fusion Cuisine. Stephan groaned. Pain throbbed in his neck. To relieve the pressure,he snapped the vertebrae like a mortal would crack his knuckle.