Not Just Dinner.
Zachariah Theodore Augustin. A powerful once-was aristocrat from the seventeenth century, known as a womaniser, sadist, and masochist from the coming of his age in 1723, a man at the age of fourteen. He was turned at the age of twenty three by a murderous governess who had watched him grow and blossom into a young and highly arrogant man, she knew his hunger for the naked flesh of women and intelligence would aid her in her future. Though he didn't embrace the beast that consumed him as she expected him to. He warred with it.
Blood was a disgusting but necessary attribute to being a vampire. But try as he might, he couldn't resist the temptation that was blood. And so he forced himself to sleep, throwing away the rotting corpse that had taken up the space of the mausoleum he'd chosen to sleep in, and laid there, thinking of the coming eras.
He slept through the ages, listening to the gentle hum of the world as it seemed to creak and bend, letting passing eras come with ease, not once had he been disturbed. Until the one dark night that four rebellious teenagers from a backwards town that was barely on the map, crept into his mausoleum. They awoke a powerful, blood thirsty beast without meaning to. And they and the world were going to pay the price.
Zachariah always did have a thirst for blood, and he was a fool for thinking it would cease. It came barrelling back like a long lost pet, and he welcomed it with open arms. He finally embraced it.
Too bad for the humans, nothing can stop him from drinking the world dry.