Monday, August 25, 2025

BLOOD, Trish Vampire Horror Series BookOne by K.T. Rose


Blood 
Trish Vampire Horror Series 
BookOne
by K.T. Rose

Genre: thriller/ dark fiction/ horror
Publisher: Kyrobooks LLC
Date of Publication: July 1, 2025
ISBN: 978-1966857006
ASIN: B0DSVNHBY8 
Number of pages: 238
Word Count: 68000
Cover Artist: Cha

Tagline: Hunger. Desperation. Terror. A mother's love knows no bounds - neither does her appetite.

Book Description:

A vampire's existence is a delicate balance between predator and pretense. For Trish, that balance includes a loving husband, an innocent son, and a trail of bloodless corpses. When her latest hunt at Miller University goes awry, leaving a witness in its wake, her carefully maintained double life begins to crumble.

Months later, Trish sets her sights on a pure-hearted professor, but his death brings unexpected consequences. Captured by the victim's vengeful cousin and her violent friends, Trish faces a harrowing choice. She must either break free to protect her family or watch her perfect life dissolve into chaos. Can she escape before her husband, Randel, discovers the true nature of the monster he married?

Blood introduces K.T. Rose's chilling vampire horror thriller series. If you're drawn to dark supernatural tales, complex characters, and blood-chilling suspense, this story of maternal instinct versus monster nature will leave you breathless.


Chapter 1 – Chad

 

Trish wasn’t a student at Miller University. In fact, she went to Radcliffe before women were allowed to take Harvard classes. No, she was at Miller with a different purpose in mind, and it had nothing to do with studying. She was sitting in some frat boy’s dorm room—Chad was his name—with her fangs deep in his wrist, sucking on his musky skin and careful to lick up the mess of blood that ran from the wound like water leaking from a faucet. She considered the meal subpar; it was a little too sweet for her taste. Chad had certainly eaten nothing but cookies and Jello shots all day, skipping protein and salt. Luckily, human blood naturally had enough protein and salt in each sip; Chad would sustain her for a month. Lightheaded and intertwined in gluttonous bliss, her body swayed with delight as she took him in.

Chad twitched at the shoulders as he lay on the extra-long twin bed, his body limp and lacking the oxygen needed for consciousness, let alone enough to put up a fight. Trish figured that he had been about twenty-one years old. He was tall enough to play sports, and his build was fair with a little weight around his middle. His face was empty of wrinkles, young and new, and his smile was pearly. Chad had taken the time to chat her up before they headed to his room. He said something about playing an instrument and liking computers. He certainly told the truth about that, judging by the black trombone case leaning against a desk with the biggest monitors she’d ever seen sitting on top of it. The room's small size—slightly larger than a walk-in closet—made the computer look enormous. She was surprised the tiny room possessed a closet. To keep the conversation going, she pretended to be intrigued as she shared some lies about herself. She couldn’t remember if she was Julie from the accounting firm or Tiffany from the dealership. It didn’t matter. Her meals’ backstories seem to run together anyway, making it hard for her to put hobbies, jobs, and names with the faces of the corpses in her wake. As she and Chad stood toe to toe at the party downstairs, the only thing she thought of was his sweaty pores; the chemical scent of alcohol still wafted from him as he lay on his bed dying. Trish hated the smell, but it signified easy prey, like most college boys, truckers, or, in desperate times, a person down on their luck left to dig through pub and restaurant dumpsters. They were all so easy to trap and drain.

Trish caressed the edges of the lacerations on Chad’s arm with her tongue, pushing his blood to flow into her mouth as the party raged on beneath her feet. The attendees roared and chanted, yelled for more beer, and demanded someone to take their shirt off. The voices were the familiar sounds of the naïve—too drunk and high on acid or pot to notice there was a monster upstairs.

Sometimes, Trish wondered if college students’ parents bothered to teach them the basics; namely, not to bring strange women into their rooms. But, no matter how thin and pale she looked in that dark dress, men always fell for her. Her lean figure and plump lips were effective bait—irresistibly mysterious, she was told. Still, when the police found their bodies, there was always mourning and a sense of loss for someone so young and talented. Someone that human society classified as potentially important. Chad believed that hype, having told her that he was working on a chemical engineering degree and minoring in music. He was so close to graduating and living that life. As he spoke, Trish pictured him getting married to some nurse, buying a house, and having kids, because that’s what humans did. But what Chad didn’t know—a tidbit that she decided to keep to herself— was that he was doomed to become an unhappy, overworked middle manager who flirted with the idea of sticking a barrel in his mouth. She’d seen many people like him over the last one hundred and thirty-seven years. Chad was a cliché; there was nothing special about his dreams because he wouldn’t live long enough to loathe them. In fact, Chad had done Trish a favor by curing her cramps and insufferable hunger pains, and for that, she was grateful.

Chad stopped jerking, and her belly was full. She slowly withdrew her fangs, allowing blood to drip onto her lap. She used one hand to get a tight grip on his arm, forming a tourniquet. There was no pulse, just as she expected. With her free hand, she pulled the pocketknife from her leather tote, which lay against her thigh.

Trish learned a long time ago that a murder could be hidden in plain sight. By the time prey was found, their bodies would bleed out from the wrist or the neck. It could be suicide. It could be murder. The police never really knew. Even though she had to leave Chad in his bed for everyone to find, she preferred getting rid of the corpse by burying it somewhere massive like the ocean, the lake, a construction site…a dump. She’d make the authorities look for months, years, decades, then wash her hands of the situation, because if they did find the body, there was no DNA—the biological code they used to match a crime with a killer.

She pulled the blade up Chad’s wrist, along her fang marks. The knife tore his skin in half and flooded the wound with his leftover liquids. His blood had gone syrupy and thick, tempting her to lick it dry. But it was close to clotting; it would taste bitter and have all the consistency of old, clumpy cottage cheese.

Trish laid Chad’s arm on his bed and considered his pale face. He was a different person from the man she made out with and strangled before she went in for the kill. His eyelids were at half-mast and he seemed peaceful.

She unclenched his fingers and dipped them into the new gash. Then she slid the knife into his palm, staging his body.

Then she listened. She listened hard and kicked herself for not doing so sooner. She didn’t think straight, or at all, when she was hungry, and Chad seemed reserved—she was sure that his room was empty and that no one knew about the woman that he allowed upstairs. He’d even locked the door behind them. During her quick survey upon entry, she didn’t see anything. As they huffed and made out, swapped tongues and giggled, she didn’t hear anything alarming. And as she subdued him and slurped his blood, she didn’t smell anyone.

But right then was the crucial time to listen and engross herself in her environment because she was done eating. It was time to leave unnoticed because anything could happen around them. Them, meaning humans. Them, meaning blood bags. Them, meaning food…

Trish heard a young girl vomiting outside, just below the window. She imagined it smelled like cheap vodka and tapas. The boys just beneath her feet slammed shots of what smelled like pure ethanol. A girl bawled her eyes out just next door as she yelled about how someone was a horrible boyfriend.

And then Trish heard heavy breathing in the closet. The hairs on her neck rose.

 


About the Author:

K.T. Rose is a horror, thriller, supernatural, paranormal, and suspense author based in Detroit, Michigan. She shares her passion for spine-chilling stories with readers through flash fiction on her blog. Her works include Trinity of Horror, The Haunting of Gallagher Hotel, the Netted Series, and the Trish Vampire Horror and Serial Killer Thriller Series.












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