#dracula 2022

At the white glare of a morning cloudy sky, my eyes opened, quite unwillingly. I opened my mouth to ask Dracula to close the curtains when I noticed his absence and smiled at my own blunder. The covers at my side still held the shape of his body where he lay so the sunrise couldn’t have been more than an hour ago.

I slipped out the bed glancing at the clock and saw it was almost 8am already. My alarm hadn’t gone off and I’d slept in more than usual. A shower should startle me awake. 

As I undressed in my bathroom, my shirt chafed at my back and the memory of being massaged, or almost skinned considering his brutality -- although surprisingly enjoyable -- returned. I turned my back on the mirror and tried to look over my shoulder to see the state of my skin. Not a mark in sight, though it glistened as if the skin was raw and new. Reaching, I experimented with feeling it with the tips of my fingers. I hissed when a nail accidentally scraped it but other than that, it felt only a bit sensitive. It was a small bother compared to the head splitting migraine from last night. When the hot water from my shower hit my back, I expected it to burn upon contact with the apparently new skin there. Instead I found it rather helped. My body throbbed as if the flow of hot water made my heart beat faster and the skin on my back to grow thicker. 

After I showered, dressed myself and ate breakfast, I pulled the dress I would be wearing for the night out of the closet and laid it carefully over the bed. 

It would be hours until I would have to squeeze myself in there, but I felt an inexplicable urge to stare at it while I worked. 

At 9am sharp my phone lit up with Hayes calling. I let it ring. At 10am another call. At 12pm, it was time for Chambers to call. Talbot called at 2pm, Hayes again at 2.30pm. Renfield called at 4pm and I answered. 

“Y/N, for Christ’s sake, will you answer one of them? They call me when you don’t answer and they’re driving me mad!”

“Hi, Renfield,” I said in my most pleasant voice. “How are things going for the party?”

“Y/N, it’s no time to be a brat.”

“I’m doing well, yes, thanks for asking!”

He sighed heavily.

“I expect you are. Dracula arrived this morning minutes short of sunrise.”

His answer shook me straight out of my urge to annoy him just for the fun of it. Not only did that mean he had welcomed Dracula into his own penthouse – and possibly spent the night there, on the couch, waiting for him like a dog – Renfield had implied much more through his words. Although nothing had happened last night and I was a grown woman, I flushed in embarrassment.

“They won’t take no for an answer and I am in no mood today to listen to their ravings,” I spit out to disguise my mood.

“They gave you a week.”

“I’m giving myself another day.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Yes, and I can say no to them at your party, where they won’t be able to annoy me for hours on end. I have work to do, you know, I can’t spend an hour saying no over and over to Hayes.”

“Fair,” he admitted. “Shall I tell them that? That you’ve asked for a stay of proceedings?”

“Those are kind words but yes, tell them that.” I leant back on my chair and straightened up at once as my skin was pulled tautly over my spine. “Ow.”

“Ow?” Renfield echoed. 

“Nothing,” I said as I stood up from my chair and started pacing around the room. “Is Dracula awake yet? The sun is starting to set.”

“Asleep. Before he went to bed, he mentioned that he would be picking you up at 8.”

“Oh. Good, hm.” How awkward was this? “How are the preparations for the party tomorrow coming along?” I repeated, silently cursing myself.

“Fantastic,” Renfield said shortly. “Y/N, piece of advice… call the police if you’re worried about being stalked by Zoe’s people. Scotland Yard doesn’t need to know the whole story, only that you’re being watched and feel threatened.”

I opened my mouth to fight it, out of sheer need of countering the simplicity of his argument, but, simple as it was, it could prove effective. 

“Dracula told you?”

“He asked me to keep an eye on you during daylight. I can’t be with you all hours and the police will prove more able than I should Zoe decide to take action, which I doubt will happen. Yet, it would set the master’s mind at ease. And mine, as well,” he completed. 

“Okay. I’m sure the police have their hands full of lawyers with death threats, but I’ll give them a call this afternoon.” I sighed. “It can’t hurt to give them a description of Raoul as well.”

“You do that. Enjoy your date at the opera tonight.”

The phone became mute before I thought of an answer. 

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“Oof!” I made for the second time.

“Oh, so sorry, dear,” Diana said between gritted teeth, peering over my shoulder to look at me through the mirror’s reflection. She tugged again and my waist gained a cinched shape that made me gasp. “I didn’t tighten that much- oh. Oh.” She seemed to comprehend that this time I hadn’t gasped for air, but out of surprise. The both of us stared at my body reflected in the mirror. Not a piece of clothing in my closet flattered me this much. The corset bustier forced my posture into a severe elegance that suited me. I didn’t know my waist could look like that or that my breasts, although suffering from PMS aches squeezed in there, looked sexy instead of whorish. 

“Pity I’m not a man,” Diana murmured, raising her eyebrows as if in contemplation, and making me laugh. “Honestly! And you said Dracula bought you this? You didn’t try it on beforehand?”

I shook my head, and she nodded hers, still a little transfixed. Admittedly, I was too as I ran my hands down my sides, feeling the accentuated curve from my waist down my hips. I turned around, sweeping my hair away, and gazed at the laced up bustier digging into my back. The skin still had a light sheen to it but hours since the abuse it had taken, the soreness and sensitivity had subsided to a faint tingling. 

Diana left me to twirl in front of my reflection and went to rummage through the things scattered on my bed. 

“What time is it?” I asked as I leaned to the mirror, pushing my eyelashes up with my fingertips as if that could have the power to curve them even more than mascara had.

“Uh, seven forty. He should be getting here in a few. Try these on with the choker,” she said, turning around from the bed with both her hands held out. A pair of teardrop earrings made of mother-of-pearl blinked at me from her left hand. In her right hand, a thin band of black velvet trimmed with lace of the same colour. Small, delicate pearls stood on the tips of the lace and a large pearl dangled on the centre of the choker. “I must have worn this once or twice. Don’t think I have the neck for it, although it’s very pretty.”

“Where did you get it?” I asked, taking the choker from her.

“Antiquity store quite a while back. The shop owner said it’s Italian but I don’t know how honest he was.” She shrugged. “Let me help you with it,” she said, extending her hand for it.

For a second, I started pulling my hair up, but then I remembered myself.

“I’ve got it.” I smiled. “You know, I think it’s quite cold outside. I’m worried the stole won’t do it. Do you have something else to lend me? If not, I think I’ll take my trench coat…”

“Trench coat with that dress?! I’ll lock you up for that. No, no, no…” she trailed off, already heading for the bedroom’s door. “I’ll find you something.”

With Diana gone, I turned to the mirror again. I hooked the earrings to my earlobes quickly and twisted my hair up in a knot so I could work the clasp on the choker. My eyes lingered on the light serrated scars on each side of my neck. The freshest one sparked alive when the choker brushed it, sending a shiver to my spine that finished in a ball below my navel.

I drew a breath in.

I knew that feeling. 

Shaking my hair down, I shoved my phone in a tiny purse where the tickets were already safely kept, grabbed the pair of Louboutin’s waiting for me by my dresser and practically pranced down the stairs to the first floor. I stopped on the last step, staring at the bottom of the front door, balancing on one leg at a time to fit the shoes on. 

The pull on my navel tightened a moment before a light flickered on beneath the front door. 

There were only hours since I last saw Dracula but excitement filled me either way as I turned the doorknob. Smiling big, I swung the door open to reveal him filling the doorframe. 

“You’re early,” I told him but I barely registered my own words. 

I stared at Dracula. He stared back. 

I think he said something, that, again, I didn’t register.

A black striped silk scarf was draped around his shoulders, falling down his chest to frame a magnificent damask burgundy waistcoat, half concealed by the long suit jacket. The matte black tie contrasted against the white shirt. With the sheen of the scarf and waistcoat, the effect was rather striking. The light hitting the scarf and the imposing wideness of his shoulders inside that suit kept stealing my attention to form a more elaborate response than simply staring stupidly.

To my delight, he seemed a little lost for words as well. But instead of staring continuously as I did, he stepped forward and seized my waist in his hands. I felt the weight of them. Dracula lowered his face to mine. I pressed my lips to his only to amuse him but turned my cheek when he tried for something more.

“I just finished doing my makeup,” I told him as he kissed my earlobe. “Let’s not ruin it before we go out.” 

A low rumble came from him - whether in agreement or not, I couldn’t tell - and, as if dropping the subject entirely, he forced me round with a twist to my waist. My feet tangled over each other. Gasping in surprise, I had to lean into him so I wouldn’t tumble and he took that as an opportunity to follow the deep curves of my waist to the rest of my body. His left hand drifted down to my hip and lingered there as he apparently detected something to his interest. Exploring still, his hand slid back to gather a firm grip on my ass. 

“You seem to be lacking something,” he stated, almost matter-of-factly as if he wasn’t veritably groping me.

“Very perceptive,” I taunted. Dracula squeezed my ass again, his fingers biting into the inside of my buttock. I let out a strangled noise as I tried to shift away from his grip but once he released me, the lingering touch was more pleasurable than painful. “Underwear doesn’t go with this dress,” I panted. “It shows through the fabric.” 

“Really?” His tone was almost disinterested as both hands were now uptaking the task of exploring each and every curve of my hips. Then, his lips were on my exposed shoulders, rovering over my back. I shivered and bent my back at the feel of his lips on the fresh skin. “Do you mind being late?”

“No, but I do mind showing up looking a mess.” I turned my head to look over my shoulder at him. His eyes, hungry and red, were on my throat. I grabbed his face to make him focus and he met my gaze. I understood by his look alone that he didn’t really care about the opera or me looking a mess. 

The creak of the back door opening dissipated the moment as Dracula glanced up in alertness. Quick steps sounded from the kitchen to the hall. I stepped away from Dracula, trying to disguise that we were moments away from tearing each other’s clothes off.

“Y/N, I’ve got just the thing-” Diana cut her phrase short as she appeared from behind the stairwell and saw us. She cast the coat she held over an arm. “Oh.” The brown in her eyes appeared dull for a fraction of a second, but a polite smile curved her mouth and gave life to her face. She glanced between Dracula and I. 

“Di, this is Count Dracula. He was a bit early,” I added, as if that was meant to remedy the awkwardness. “She was very excited to meet you,” I told Dracula and I wondered how I made the words sound so casual. “I’ll spare many introductions. You both know a lot about each other already because of me.”

Ever the gentleman, Dracula took Diana’s hand and kissed it. She looked at me as he did so and I shrugged in unspoken conversation - “really?” “told you”.

“She talks a lot about you,” Diana said when he let her go. “But meeting the man is always quite different from knowing of him.”

“Always,” he agreed, smiling down at her. “I hope I didn’t hurt your expectations.”

“You’re exactly what I expected,” she replied quickly, a frozen smile on her mouth. I narrowed my eyes. “Count, what do you think of lunch on Saturday? It would be lovely to have you over and get to know Y/N talks about so often.”

“My mornings are eternally busy, I’m afraid, and this Saturday I’ll be hosting a party at my home. I’m sure Y/N’s told you-” he looked at me and I nodded in confirmation “-you should come. If you want to evaluate me, and I do believe that’s what you want to do, you can do so there.”

Diana laughed. I was sure it was the laugh she used for corporate meetings - polite, short and a little contemptuous. 

“I’ll come.” She stepped aside from him and handed me the coat. Heavy black and grey fur caressed my skin as I threw it over me. “Don’t want to be late. Tell me all about it later?”

With that and a last surveying look at Dracula, Diana made her way back and left with the same creak of the closing door.

“She doesn’t like you,” I blurted as he turned to me.

“She knows something is off about me,” he said, grabbing the doorknob. “I don’t think she remembers what I did, as you suspect.”

“That’s comforting,” I replied, although it was not. 

Cutting, bone-chilling wind put Diana out of my mind as we stepped out into the night and I locked my door. When I turned around, I found Count Dracula holding the passenger door of his car open for me. My gaze lingered on the cufflinks on his outstretched arm, the dark rubies winking at me under the streetlights, and the waistcoat tight over his torso, accentuating his noble posture. He narrowed his eyes with a slight tilt of his head as I continued staring. Then the wind slipped under my coat and I was reminded of the freezing cold. I rushed past him, fumbling to throw my keys inside my purse, and took my seat on the passenger side. 

Dracula slid beside me with a slam to his door. He opened his jacket to sit more comfortably and flipped the ignition. We shot through the road. His legs underlined the fabric of his trousers as he changed gears. Lean muscles tensed and relaxed as I watched. The light coming and going from outside barely highlighted his profile with how darkly tinted the windows were.

“What did you do to me last night?” I questioned, observing him.

“Healed you,” he replied.

“With a massage?” I scoffed. 

He glanced at me.

“A massage,” he repeated, and chuckled in that way I hated so much, like he knew something I didn’t. “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Why should I?” He asked, leaning back in his seat as he held the wheel with only one hand. 

“Because I’m asking you to.”

Again, he chuckled. 

“No.”

With his square shoulders set back, his body relaxed as he drove in feigned concentration. 

I did remember, at least, I thought I did. But something was missing. He knew it and wouldn’t give me the answer. What he wouldn’t give, I would take.  

“Make a right here,” I said, giving into impulse.

“But this is the quickest way,” he replied even as he obeyed me.

“There are tolls on that road.” I kicked my shoes off. My heartbeat accelerated. 

He smirked.

“And your point is?” He prodded.

“You would have to lower your window at some point.” I removed my seat belt, bent my legs under me as far as the dress would allow and leaned across the centre console. Dracula turned his head to look at me as my chin rested on his shoulder. “I can’t have that right now,” I breathed. “Eyes on the road.”

For a moment too long, he stared deep into my eyes, his smirk growing into a smile as he fully understood my intention, then he raised his left arm to give me space and put his eyes back on the road. 

Keeping my lips to his ear, I reached between his legs, feeling the most promising outline of his cock through his trousers growing rigid to my touch. I took his earlobe between my teeth. He tilted his head in response, shoulders tensing and relaxing as a chill came and went through him. I undid his trousers carelessly. The steering wheel let out a sound of complaint as Dracula tightened his hand around it. To my utter fascination, I saw that he had his bottom lip caught between his teeth. My hand drifted lower, fingers brushing against the distinct hardness hidden beneath the fabric of his boxers. He exhaled. Content, I pushed his underwear aside and bent down, settling on my knees and elbows so I could reach him and bestow a generous lick down his length. I taunted him with licks and brushes of lips and in return, he twisted my hair around his hand.

“Put your tongue out,” he said between his teeth. 

Opening my mouth, I did. He raised his hips slightly as he forced my head down. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my tongue out as far as it would go to stop myself from choking as he hit the back of my throat. He thrust upward once again with complete disregard, past my defences, and I pulled back, gasping for breath. A sound between a groan and a laugh came from him. 

Mocking laughter. 

Grasping him tightly, I brought the soft contours of the head of his cock to my tongue. Dracula kept a firm hold over my hair as I fell into rhythm. Tears nearly leaking out of my eyes, I took as much of him as I could down my throat. Drool cascaded out of my mouth as I pulled back. I stroked his cock and left sloppy kisses along his shaft as I tried to catch my breath. Rasping groans escaped from him. He sounded the same way when he was inside me, and my body responded. My breasts felt heavier, my nipples puckered to hypersensitivity, and my loins swelled while wetness slicked my inner thighs. That arousal made me move my head a little faster, drawing on him harder. His grip on my hair tightened. 

The car swerved and jostled to a stop. I started lifting my head but he raised his hips and held me still. 

“Ahh, good.” 

Something about the way he spoke seemed to sink in and I took his cock deeper as I tried desperately to suck and breathe at the same time. My hair was released for a brief second before being pulled again, guiding my head to his own pace. A large hand, the one that was supposed to be steering the car before, began traversing down my back only to find rest on my ass sticking up in the air. “Again, pet.” Eyes filled with tears, gagging and choking, I obeyed, if only to hear him moan again in that way that seemed both demanding and pleading. “Good, good,” he said, and I thought ‘more, more’. 

His groans became louder until they reverberated inside the car. I felt his legs tremble, heard a breath leave his body when it didn’t belong there, felt his fingers digging on my behind, and then tasted him on my tongue as his groans subsided. Still, I kept him encased inside my mouth, attempting to drain all that he could give.

He pulled my head back by the roots of my hair and raised me to eyelevel. I swallowed hurriedly, before I let anything spill, as I continued grasping his cock. It was a shiny, slobbery mess. 

My chest heaved with deep, rewarding breaths. Gaze turning to the man at my side, I found him with his head resting back, eyes shut. Fangs loomed behind his parted lips. 

“Such a brat,” he sighed.

“Brat?” I prodded, stroking his cock slowly. He tensed.

“You’ll do anything to get what you want.” He chuckled, showing me more serrated white teeth. 

“Well? Have I earned it?”

“I spoil you too much.”

A racket of noise from outside filtered in and I let go of him in alarm, recoiling to sit on my ankles, before I realised it was people leaving a pub down the street where the car was parked.

Dracula adjusted himself, apparently unbothered by the interruption, and wiped a hand down his trousers. 

“You’re still scared of me,” he murmured, as he continued analysing his trousers.

That was his response after that?

“I’m not,” I protested at once. 

“What did I do to you yesterday, Y/N?” He asked, turning his face toward mine too quickly. His face was unnervingly closer than a fraction of a second before. My heart pumped harder. But not with fear. I wouldn’t allow that.

“Healed me,” I repeated his own words back.

“How?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I opened my mouth to give him an acidic answer. “Think. You are much too clever.”

“You bit me,” I breathed out without a second thought. “Several times,” I completed as I thought of the cold pressure on my back. But no scars to attest to that fact, which meant he had licked all the wounds away, as he had once done to my breast. If I was right, that justified the feeling of raw skin on my back.

“I didn’t drink your blood, though. Not much of it.”

The corners of my lips curled.

“And you think I forgot about it- rather, I erased it from my memory because I’m still scared of you? Please.”

“I bit you repeatedly last night and you have no memory of it,” he said.

“Didn’t feel like bites. It felt a lot like-” a clear image of Dracula hovering over my back, sharp teeth biting and pulling my skin to meet the cold and cavernous inside of his mouth. Blood coalescing but not being drawn to pour. “Cupping.” A questioning look appeared in his eyes. “Alternative medicine, that’s what you did. It’s used to draw sickness out and clean toxins,” I finished, divided between wanting to find it fascinating and funny. “You learned it from the Turks.” I gave him a smile. “It’s very popular now.”

“Entirely not the point,” he muttered, and leaned back to his seat. 

“Isn’t it?” I carried on as I sat straight. “Maybe doing that on some damsel of yore could have elicited some kind of- what? Horrified and disgusted reaction? I know what you are, and it’s the 21st century as you are well aware. Not much mystery going around. So you snuck into my room, quite literally sucked the pain from my body and healed me better than medicine ever could, and I’m thankful, but not scared.” I exhaled harshly. “I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself. I’m not bloody scared of you. Stop trying to test me and push me away.”

I angled the rearview mirror towards me. My makeup was mostly intact, which was somewhat of a miracle. My hair on the other hand was a different story. 

Dracula’s black gaze was fixed on mine through the mirror. Empty. It cut through my stomach.

“We’re late,” I grumbled.

Staring straight through me, he put the car in first gear, then looked away and sped off.

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A/N: So, hot and (slightly) angsty, my favourite combo. He's having a hard time fully coming to terms with this relationship. He still expects her to run off. He never quite stopped believing it. And now she's like a dog with a bone :)

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In another note, I am SO excited for the next chapter!! I've been thinking about it for months and it came out exactly how I wanted to. It'll accompany a small playlist to set the tone, so you can read while listening to the pieces that inspired me.

Same time next week.

“Whoa.” 

I extended an arm behind me to find support on my bed as I saw my own reflection struggle for balance. Once steady, I tried standing again, hiking my pyjamas up so my new pair of Louboutin shoes were on full display.

I understood the appeal once I had them on. None of my high heels managed to give me such amazing legs; they even looked a little longer. And none of my high heels were quite this tall.

I experimented walking from my bed to the mirror posted against the corner of two walls. 

“Practice makes perfect,” I muttered to myself as I dared to venture around the room. 

A few steps gave me more confidence that I would be able to walk tomorrow without twisting my ankle. The same couldn’t be said for my pinkies. I would have to hold a funeral for them both after I left the Opera with Dracula.

Below me, on the first floor, I heard the back door open.

“Y/N? Y/N, I’ m home! Are you here?” Diana’s voice carried up the stairs, making me smile at once.

“Di! I’m up here! I’ll be down in a minute!”

I tried hurrying to the bed, arms outstretched to find balance, and kicked myself on my calf. With a yelp, I fell on top of the mountain of pillows, face first. 

“Y/N?” Diana said from inside the room. I raised my head, strands of hair falling over my eyes, and saw her standing next to my door, grinning. “ What are you doing?” She chuckled.

“Trying not to break my ankles,” I replied, kicking my legs up and swinging them to show off the cause of my affliction. “I’m training for tomorrow.”

“I never took you for a Louboutin girl,” she said, plopping next to me on the bed. I turned on my back to reach and pull her into a hug. Her silver hair fell on my face and for a minute I was drowned in her perfume. “It’s good to be home. Have my darlings behaved well?”

“They did wonderful,” I answered when she let go and lied by my side, our heads turned to each other. “No scratched armchairs this time. Though I don’t know how I managed to keep them from it. I wasn’t around much, to be honest,” I finished apologetically. “Have you been to see them yet?”

“Yeah, I just spent the past minutes getting meowed and yowled at. They were quite cross with me this time.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be back tonight?”

“Glasgow was wonderful but can’t quite compare to London. I missed home and managed to anticipate my flight.” She tapped my leg, brown eyes glittering. “Louboutin’s, huh?”

“Dracula’s treat. You won’t believe the dress either.” I pulled the shoes off and hopped from the bed to the closet. Plucking the hanger out, I turned around dramatically to show Diana the dress. She gasped with the same amount of drama. Muttering words of appreciation, she ran her hands down the fabric, barely touching it as if afraid to ruin it somehow. “He’s taking me to the opera tomorrow. I don’t think it’s this fancy nowad-”

“Who cares, it’s the bloody opera. Make a show. God, this is stunning! Oh, and I have just the thing to go with- a fur stole in black that you can wrap around your shoulders- and oh! My pearl choker will go wonderfully with it as well.”

I smiled gratefully at her offer, glad that I didn’t have to ask her to lend me anything.

After she finished wooing and cooing over the dress and shoes, we both sat down on my bed again as one subject piled over the next one. She told me how everything was seeming to go her way on work, and how she had an accidental date with the head of operations from Sweden - which was very exciting news, especially because Diana had refused dates ever since she became a young widow at 37, almost fifteen years ago. Then I told her what I could of Mallory, and how things were going between Dracula and I. 

I watched her carefully each time I mentioned his name for any sort of tell, but none came. I had expected some reaction, anything to show that she remembered having  been bitten, but she listened attentively to what I said and commented here and there as if she had never hinted at Dracula being dangerous for unspoken reasons. 

We chatted until our mouths became dry and our stomachs grumbled for lunch. 

“Let’s order in,” I suggested.

“Ugh, no. I ordered in for a whole week when I wasn’t having business lunches out. I want homemade food.”

“We’ll have to drop by the supermarket, then. My fridge is pretty empty and I cleared yours earlier today of spoiled food.” I made a face to add to how unpleasant that experience was and Diana smiled in thanks. She knew how much I hated cleaning the fridge. 

“You’re a saint.”

“I know. You can cook lunch as a thanks. It’s the least you can do after I managed to clean your kitchen without vomiting.”

She laughed.

“So dramatic. I’ll cook if you help out, and we’re using your kitchen.”

With that settled, Diana waited while I changed into proper trousers, trainers and a grey wool duster coat, and off we went. 

Diana insisted on going to the Sainsbury’s on the other side of Clapham Common instead of going to the Tesco down the road. There were more options, she said, which wasn’t wrong but also a way longer walk, and Diana was determined not to drive. Depending on how much we shopped, we would have to take the tube back home. 

Despite my initial complaint, the walk in the cold sun of approaching winter put a big smile on my face. We kept our heads high, basking in the rare sunlight and clear blue sky, as we muttered to each other from time to time while people went about the park with their dogs.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” She asked suddenly. “It’s Thursday.”

“Renfield let me work from home today and tomorrow. I don’t have court until next week and he said a few days at home would do me good to concentrate.”

“That’s kind of him.”

“More than usual,” I agreed. “I usually have to ask permission and this time he simply gifted it to me. He’s trying to keep me from being bullied by Hayes until tomorrow.”

“Ah, there’s that,” she said quietly. “You’ve got to give him your definite no.”

I took my eyes off the bandstand ahead of us to glance at her. 

“You can say it,” I murmured. 

“Say what?”

“That you disapprove of my choice.”

“I don’t, but I don’t approve of it either. I don’t think I’m supposed to have an opinion on the subject, nor should anyone.” She eyed me. “It’s your life, Y/N. You’re a grown woman. I’m sure you’re tired of everyone telling you what to do. If you’re expecting me to tell you off like Mallory did-”

“Mallory didn’t have a chance to tell me off for not accepting the promotion.”

“You know what you’re doing.” She nodded, smiling lightly. “I know that the Count is not forcing you to do anything. It’s your choice and you chose him.” She nodded again. “That’s what got Mallory so bitter. She’s never experienced something quite this strong, I think. She doesn’t get it.”

I grinned, breathing deeply and letting go. Feeling supported at least in some aspects, even if she didn’t know the whole of it, was much better than I expected.

“You get it, though, because of Gerard,” I guessed.

“Exactly. Gerry was the one. I chose him for the rest of my life and he’s gone but I still choose him, forever. It’s so cliche but I know that even after I die, and if I find someone to spend the rest of my days with, it won’t be someone else I’ll meet. It’ll be him.” She smiled, cheeks warming. I inspected her eyes for a trace of tears but there were none. She spoke of him with true fondness. At some point, it must stop hurting and you just miss the person you lost. I smiled back at her and rubbed her shoulder. “Is that what you and Dracula have?” She asked, watching me closely.

“One day. We’re getting there.” 

The words tasted bitter.

“You know, Gerry and I fought a lot, too, in the beginning.”

“Really?” I asked, genuinely surprised. Diana had always painted a picture of a flawless relationship - the kind you only see in movies.

“Oh yes. When we first started dating he was unbelievably jealous-” she went on and I nodded and smiled automatically but I was only half paying attention to her.

Something about the way the man walking on the path parallel to ours reminded me of someone. He had the distinctive heavy stride and wide stance of somebody who packed a lot of muscle beneath his clothes. 

I kept my gaze on Diana so I could watch him from my peripheral vision.

Our paths were drawing closer as we approached the bandstand. All paths from Clapham Common led there, right to its centre. 

I risked a glance to see if I recognised him, but I barely had the chance to take in his profile before he turned towards a path behind the bandstand, putting him entirely out of sight.As we left Clapham Common behind us and Diana started listing all the things we had to buy, I put the man out of my mind. It was no use trying to identify a stranger I had barely seen. 

Inside the supermarket, as always, I pushed the trolley while Diana picked things off the shelves. Sometimes I picked something for me, too - this time it was a bottle of wine and some Danish biscuits. 

As Diana stood in front of the fish counter, leaning to inspect some fresh fish laid on ice, I kept my breathing shallow. 

“Trout, trout, where is it…” I heard her murmur.

“We’re eating fish today?” I asked, trying to keep the scowl at bay but my tone must have announced my disgust. 

“You love fish!” She protested. 

“I do. I do!” I repeated when her expression became even more offended. “Di, I love when you make it, especially when you make it.” She took her cooking very seriously and I needed to repair whatever damage I had caused with a simple question. “But those don’t smell good.”

A blond man next to us stopped inspecting a large salmon when he heard me. 

“Fish always stink, Y/N,” said Diana.

“I know but they stink worse than usual.” I screwed up my nose. “Swear, they’re about this much to rot.” I measured how much between my fingers.

The man gave the salmon a lasting look and left.

“Fine!” Diana threw her hands up. “What do you want for lunch then?”

“Oh, Di, I’m not saying you can’t take the fish for you to eat-”

“I won’t take it now. I’ll keep thinking it’s rotten because you said it.” She gave me an annoyed look. “No fish then.” Her brows unfurrowed as she spotted an announcement for venison and sirloin with reasonable prices. “Oh, the meat counter is already crowded. Will you stand in line while I pick up the rest?”

I agreed almost immediately to save myself from the boring task of pushing the trolley. She gave me instructions on how to choose and how much she needed and sent me off. 

Settling behind an elderly couple, I pulled my phone from my coat’s pocket and found a text from Dracula. 

All black?

Beneath it, a picture showcased a black suit, shirt and tie laid on the bed. The tie had a slight shine that indicated it was silk.

For tomorrow? I like it but your dragon pendant would do more justice to it than a traditional tie. 

I texted back and then another one as he typed:

Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s early for you.

The three dots that indicated he was typing stopped. A second later my phone rang. 

“Hear this?” He asked as soon as I answered. Music came through the line, the synth drumbeat hitting my eardrum in annoying repetition. “I should be asleep but can’t.”

“Neighbour?” I asked cautiously. My memory was very fresh with the knowledge he had killed his neighbours for the opera tickets.

“No,” he said. “Renfield is making a racket organising this thing. I simply asked him if there would be music and now he’s here with a group of musicians, if you can call them that. Music techs and a DJ. They’re testing the sound for Saturday.”

I stifled a laugh. A DJ. What was Renfield doing ? Giving me two days to work from home while he organised his own party at Dracula’s with electronic music? Was he on drugs now? I didn’t even know he liked music. He always seemed like the kind of man that loathed any kind of noise. 

I could only imagine the look of complete annoyance on Dracula and the regret he was feeling for offering his own home for the ordeal. 

“Couldn’t they have tested it on Saturday or later when you weren’t sleeping?” I asked.

“Renfield wanted to make sure there were no mistakes and the musicians couldn’t come later. They are booked all nights of the week.” 

“Aw,” I made sympathetically, although I was grinning. His tone almost sounded like he was pouting. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“I would appreciate the company until night falls.”

“I need to work this afternoon,” I reminded him, swaying on the balls of my feet impatiently. I bumped into someone as I did so and smiled apologetically to the blonde man I had accidentally shunned from buying the salmon. He sidled past me to the fruit counter.

“The musicians should be gone in a few,” he argued. “They won’t bother you.”

“I told you when I left yesterday. I can’t work with you around.”

I had tried working while I stayed there the past nights. Tried being the key word. 

A light chuckle from him.

“You can control yourself.” 

“You can’t,” I shot back, raising my eyebrows. “If I so much as sit down on your dining table with my computer, you’ll give me that look.”

“What look?”

I turned around from the elderly couple in front of me and checked behind my back to make sure I was still the last person in line. 

“The look that you’d rather have me on top of the table instead of all my things,” I whispered into the phone. 

“Oh, there’s an idea.” His voice lost all of the previous annoyance and became an almost purr. “I was thinking more along the lines of you lying in bed trying to concentrate on work while I had my face between your legs.”

My cheeks warmed furiously and I stuffed my face on my hand, as if any unsuspecting shopper could tell I was blushing because of dirty talk. Worst of all was that I had to cross my legs to put a stop to the sudden throb that surged up. 

“Shut up , I’m at the supermarket.”

“You started it.” He chuckled. Then, changed the subject much to my relief. “I wondered where you were from the background noise.”

“I’m here with Diana.” I raised my head from my hand, catching the eye of the same blonde man. He looked away. “She managed an earlier flight,” I said absentmindedly.

As if my gaze was a magnet, the man looked at me again. He turned away, fumbling with his basket as he shuffled on a heavy step similar to the man in the park. 

Then, out of nowhere, my brain pieced it together.

The guy from the park was the waiter in Evelyn’s wedding. That’s where I recognised him from. And now he was watching me shop. Raoul - that was his name - Zoe’s planted merc that was supposed to trigger the plan once I said the word. 

Anger had my feet moving before my head was quick enough to think about what I was doing. 

But what was the worst that could happen? This was a public place. The worst was a scandal as I accused a stranger of stalking me, and best case scenario I could scare off Zoe’s spies to leave me alone.

“I gotta help Diana with something,” I told Dracula, interrupting him mid sentence. “Talk to you later,” and hung up. “Hey. Hey!” I hurried after the man, who was taking even bigger steps away from me. 

Thankfully, as he tried to make a corner on the dairy aisle, a trolley steered by a kid blocked the way. The kid’s mother apologised profusely, asking if blondie was all right. 

“Hey,” I said again as I stood next to him, my heart beating in my ears as I dared to confront him. “How long has it been?” I exclaimed in my friendliest voice. 

From up close, I could see that his eyes were of a stormy grey and right now they looked a little lost. 

“I’m sorry. You must have confused me with somebody else. I don’t think we’ve met.” His French accent made some of his consonantes sound a bit like hisses. 

At that, the woman and her son left. Raoul tried turning his back on me to follow along but I reached and locked my hand on his arm. My fingers barely closed around his bicep. 

“Tell Zoe to quit spying before I call the police,” I whispered fast near his shoulder. He glared at me. “That’s the simple solution. She knows what the other option is.” I narrowed my eyes. “I suppose you know it, too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pulled his arm back as he blinked at me.

“Yes, you do .” There was nothing he could say to convince me I was wrong about him. I just sensed it. “Or I suppose you’re eager to end up like your friends at the cemetery?” His mouth became an even thinner line. “Oh, done pretending, good. Is it really worth risking your neck for this?” He didn’t seem to catch the double entendre but that wasn’t needed for him to get the message. “Leave me and Dracula alone before things get out of hand.”

He took a long breath as he stared down at me, and blew it out between ground teeth.

“I’ll tell her,” he finally said. “That doesn’t mean they’ll stop.” Panic flashed behind his eyes. It lasted a second before he managed to conceal it but I saw it. He had slipped. 

“Did you say ‘they’? Who’s they? The people running the Foundation?” I asked. I smiled at him. “See, wasn’t that easy? Now we’re pals. Want to share anything else?”

“I was just shopping,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, and I’m princess Anne.” I stepped back to give him room to run off. “Thanks, love. Remember, things can turn ugly if you keep tailing me.”

He stared at me for a moment too long, as if in thought of what to do with me, then he looked down and around us, and left. 

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling my phone poke me in the ribs as I did so. I hadn’t let go of it since hanging up on Dracula. 

Steps sounded from behind me and I turned around fast, meeting Diana’s raised eyebrows at my reaction.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, just saw an old client that wasn’t too happy with me,” I lied. I looked over the trolley.“Have we got everything?”

“Think so.” She looked at both my hands and then down at my feet. “Where’s the venison?”

“Didn’t get it yet. He interrupted me. Wait in line with me?”

After that, we returned home and made lunch together. Most of the time, I simply watched while sipping on wine. Diana didn’t seem to mind, although sometimes she would hand me something without a word and I would chop ingredients for her. 

By the end of lunch, my cheeks hurt from laughing and Diana’s wrinkles, slim as they were after years and years of botox, were a little more pronounced around her mouth. 

As I handed another plate for her to dry while I did the dishes, I noticed her looking at me rather attentively. Sitting atop my kitchen island with her legs crossed she looked infinitely younger than her true age. 

“What?” I asked when she didn’t say anything.

“You have hickeys all over your neck,” she sneered. My eyes widened and I automatically raised a hand as if to cover it from her gaze but foam flew up and I stopped myself just in time. Diana laughed. “They’re behind your ear. You probably didn’t see them. Maybe don’t wear your hair up for a while?” She indicated the sad attempt at a bun on top of my head. “I thought you said Count Dracula was a little older than you. Aren’t hickeys a little too immature for him?”

At least I should be thankful that I remembered to wear a shirt with a high collar again. Hickeys I could explain. Bite marks? Hardly.

“He just gets carried away sometimes,” I explained, blushing a little. “He likes my neck, is all.” Diana simpered and I tried not to throw water at her as I handed her a glass. “But yes, he is quite older than me.”

“Quite older?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Well, by my count he must h-” I stopped. Wrong wording. “I think he’s almost your age.” One of her eyebrows went down, but the other one remained arched in an inquiring way. “You’re 54 now, right?”

“52!” She exclaimed, shooting her foot out to poke my ribs.

“Yeah.” I chuckled at her offended face. “About your age. I don’t know for sure, I’ll have to ask him.” Frowning, I realised I didn’t even know his birthday. He knew mine - probably. I hoped. 

“Will I get to meet him?”

“Sure,” I said automatically. Keeping my eyes on a particular stain that I tried to rub off a knife, I continued. “Tomorrow, maybe. He’ll pick me up and I’ll introduce you.”

We said our goodbyes when we finished cleaning up and I headed up to my room, trying not to think about introducing them and what could come of it. 

Work, as always, was demanding enough to put my mind off of worries and soon I was sitting in bed surrounded by notes, files and pens while music played and I typed a motion to suppress. I made some calls and sent a few emails while trying not to distract myself with more of Dracula’s texts - asking my opinion whether he should wear a waistcoat or not, and if he could come over when night fell. I replied no and then yes to both questions, then hid my phone underneath my pillows so I could focus.

When the sky gained a shade of faded orange amidst grey clouds at almost 4pm, I got up for a snack, then went back to bed where I could do some more work and eat. I rested among my pillows, staring at the ceiling while I alternated between biting strawberries and a toast slathered with butter. Fiona Apple’s Criminal played from my speaker and I sang along, rocking my feet to the beat. The next song came on and I joined the lyrics again. 

At some point I must have gotten carried away and closed my eyes.

An arm circled my waist, pulling me close. It was enough to stir me awake but a light kiss on my shoulder soothed me. I smiled and breathed deep, recognising the scent of Dracula’s cologne. Eyes closed, I snuggled closer so my face was hidden on his neck. In turn, he put a leg over mine, fitting me completely to him. Moving my hips to try to get more comfortable, I felt something heavy over me and slit my eyes open briefly to see my duvet had been unfurled on top of both of us. Warm, just as my cheek to his neck. Unsure if that was due to the warmth created by the covers, I slid my hand between the buttons of his shirt, finding warm skin at my fingertips. 

“Hmm,” I made in appreciation. 

Blindly, I undid the top two buttons of his shirt so that I could properly splay my hand on his chest. His hand closed over mine and made it move side to side in a silent request for a caress. 

I heard him sigh as I obeyed - loud in the complete silence of the room. 

My eyes flew open, meeting utter darkness, and I sat up at once on an empty bed. A dull pain on my head followed the sudden movement.

Perhaps it was the lack of silence in the room that jolted me awake. Nobody could ever sleep with Nick Cave bellowing angry notes about being a real loverman.

Tapping blindly at my side, I found the switch to the bedside lamp. 

Yellow light bathed the room and immediately a stab of pain attacked the left side of my head. My stomach lurched as the pain intensified to a pulsing thud. For a moment all I could do was close my eyes and turn away from the light. I thought my left eye would explode out of my head.  The nauseating pain from a migraine made me whimper as I moved again and my foot connected with something. A crash followed it.

Another stab to my head. 

Nick Cave yelling. The guitar and drums went right to the centre of my head. An annoying buzz vibrating my windpipe.

I dared to open my eyes and saw my laptop laying on the ground where I had kicked it. The light, even dim, attacked my eyes and white blotches appeared on the corner of my vision. I closed them again, reached for the bedside lamp and switched it off. Being engulfed in darkness brought a small mercy to the pulsing behind my eyes and for a second I breathed easier. My windpipe vibrated with every breath, but that unknown buzz was gone at the very least.

All I needed was to get up now and reach my medicine cabinet.

“Fucking hell,” I cried softly. 

The music stopped mid lyrics. 

“What is it?”  I would have jumped if I hadn’t just awakened from a dream about Dracula. His soft voice reached my ears and relief flooded me that he had kept his promise to come over when night fell. 

“Migraine. Help me to the bathroom, please.” I extended my hands to my left, where his voice had come from. Instead of taking them, his arms went under me. My pulse hammered behind my eye. “Slowly,” I warned as he lifted me off the bed. 

I stiffened, getting ready for the inevitable jostling as he took his first step, but it didn’t come. If I hadn’t heard the door to the bathroom swing open, I wouldn’t know he had moved at all. He had carried me twice before in this manner but now it felt a little like gliding in the air.

“Put me down. I need to get some pills.”

“Where are they?” His voice echoed in the bathroom and I cringed.

“Top left of the cabinet,” I whispered. “Put me down,” I repeated. 

“I’ll put you back in bed while I get-”

“No,” I insisted. “My stomach feels weird. I might vomit. Please…”

A shiver went up my legs as my feet touched the cold tiles. I reached around me blindly, still not daring to crack an eye open, and found the toilet with a touch of relief. I stood above it concentrating on breathing in and out and making a mantra not to throw up. I didn’t mind throwing up but the effort of it often worsened my migraines. 

Dracula gathered my hair behind my head, cold fingers sending tiny shocks to my scalp as he pushed a few strands behind my ears. If I wasn’t in such a cold sweat I would have found it sweet, but now I was just glad to have him around as a nearly incapacitating migraine struck.

“I’m all right,” I decided after a while of hovering around the toilet. “Stomach is settling. Get the pills for me? They’re-” Dracula held my hand open and put something tiny in it. “Thanks.” I popped it into my mouth and swallowed hard, wincing. Behind me, the tap opened and Dracula put a glass in my hand. After the pill went down smoothly, I handed him the glass again, then extended my arms for him. “Back to bed?”

This time he simply laced his arms around my waist and pulled me up. I laced my arms around his neck in welcome and crossed my ankles behind his back. My head didn’t threaten to burst like it had by being cradled. 

Sheets rustled as he set me between my pillows. The whisper of papers brushing each other as they were moved elsewhere. Plates clinking. His soft steps, nearly imperceptible and new to my ears. The sound of my curtains being opened. Then, finally, the bed sank next to me as Dracula lied down. 

“Thank you,” I whispered, opening my eyes. I was met with his pale face next to mine, features blurry by the little light coming from the moon outside. “So much.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, and I smiled in return as I closed my eyes again.

I nestled against him, trying not to whine in pain as I arranged a comfortable position. My fingers searched for the buttons of his shirt reflexively and after a while of useless perusing, Dracula moved slightly next to me. 

“What are you trying to do?”

“Feel you,” I answered simply. 

“I can’t warm you right now.”

“I’m not cold.” 

He took my hand and guided it under his shirt.

I moved closer so my arm went completely around him and my fingers rested just where his rib cage ended. A ridge of smooth skin there told me he was stabbed there once before. I kneaded the place, feeling his cold body stiffen and relax to my touch.

“Did you climb through the window?” I breathed out after a few moments of simple caress. “I locked the front door.”

“Patio door. Though I rang your doorbell a few times. I heard the music and guessed you wouldn’t hear it.”

“Asleep, actually.” My brows furrowed in thought and I forced them to relax when that seemed to put more pressure on my head. The doorbell could have forced me awake just as easily as Nick Cave’s music, however, I had to wonder if it wasn’t Dracula’s presence that I had sensed and jolted me awake. “You can make people dream about you, can’t you?” 

“Were you dreaming about me?”

“Exactly like this, except for the migraine of course. So… can you?”

“Yes, I can, but I didn’t do it tonight.”

Tonight.

I had dreamt of him two other times. Once in his car when we were headed to Evelyn’s wedding, and the last time after the wedding, sick with grief while staying at Mallory’s. I wondered which of those times were his doing.

“I think the medicine is taking effect now,” I forced the words out, concentrating on making them understandable. “They make me a bit doped. You don’t have to stay. I won’t-”

“I’ll stay,” he interrupted. 

“Really, you don’t have to. You’re cold, so I know you haven’t fed and I can’t exactly help with that at the moment…”

“I’ll stay.”

“... seriously, you don’t. I’ll be terrible company and-”

“Y/N, shut up and relax. I’ll stay. ”

“All right, all right,” I muttered, echoing his irritable tone, though my lips curled at his stubborn refusal. 

My chest raised and fell as he remained utterly still. Then, his chest puffed for a second and emptied soon after before falling still again. After a while the sound of my breathing seemed quite annoying even to myself but I had little time to pay it any mind as Dracula started following the contour of my waist to my hip. His fingers didn’t tighten around me as they usually did. There was no desire behind it, except perhaps the desire to distract me from the pain and soothe me.

The pain ebbed away in what seemed to take an eternity, but in that time, Dracula never stopped running his hand over my side and soon it was joined by his other hand pressing small points with his fingers on the back of my neck. He seemed to be drawing the pain out through those points, for each push and release made me breathe a little easier. 

“PMS isn’t a thing after I become a vampire, right?” I blurted. “I cannot stand an eternity of that.” 

He laughed, patting my butt. 

“No, it isn’t.” He paused. “Do you usually have migraines?”

“When I was younger, I had them all the time, especially when pmsing. But the crises have become sparer and sparer.” 

“Does something trigger it?”

“I tried my luck with red wine at lunch today. Something with the tannins in it can cause it, I heard. That’s never triggered migraines on me.  Mine usually has to do with stress or when I’m sad or something. ”

“Hm. How long since you had a crisis?”

“Maybe a little longer than 7 months? Last time was when-” after a huge fight with my mother which left us both without speaking to each other since. “It was a while ago,” I finished lamely. “Actually, now that I think about it, today might've been caused by stress…” I proceeded to tell him about my encounter with Raoul and how I saw him following me. 

“I thought they would have learnt their lesson,” Dracula muttered quietly. “Maybe I should be a little more clear next time.”

“I don’t understand what Zoe is so curious about. She’s got nothing since I cut ties with her.”

“You’re easier prey than me.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his very attentive face next to mine. I had a feeling he had been looking straight at me this entire time. 

“Prey? I-”

“She knows you’ve given in. She knows that I’ve bit you. She knows what will happen now.” Each sentence was spoken a little faster than the previous. The silence that followed was either an opportunity to let those words sink in or him trying to keep calm. “You’re easier to capture, dear. It took two tries for Zoe to get me. The first time, I was willing to amuse her. You put a stop to the second time. There can’t be a third try. She’s not that stupid.”

“She might try to make me her lab rat again,” I concluded. My head got a sudden stab of pain again and I groaned. “She’s having me watched so she can choose the proper time, isn’t it? She wants to see if I start showing any signs of weakness, isn’t that right? Zoe always said that when you started biting me I might turn sick.”

He laughed but not with a speck of amusement.

“Yes, she will think that. Zoe only has Johnny’s account of events and perhaps Agatha’s.” 

“Is that not what will happen?”

“How many times have I bit you, Y/N? Do you feel sick at all?”

“Except for today’s migraine, no, but that’s just PMS.”

“Nevermind about what Zoe said about what will happen to you. All she’s done is lie. Did you know that syringe wouldn’t work on me back at the wedding?”

“She said her blood would take you down,” I protested. “That it worked before.”

“Oh, and it would. But needles can’t penetrate my skin. They break. Zoe knows this. She tried to take my blood once at the Foundation.”

“The plan was never meant to work…” I tried sitting up, my mind calling my body to action as I processed that, but the migraine attacked again, exploding on the left side of my head. I yelped and ceased my attempt to move. Tears of pain surged up. “God, make it stop,” I whined.

“Let’s not talk about this. You need rest and this isn’t helping,” he said firmly. “Turn around on your stomach.”

“It’ll hurt worse.”

“It won’t. If you let me try something, it might make it better.” 

“Something you learnt from the doctor you drank last week?”

He chuckled.

“No. Something I learnt in my human years, from the Ottomans. I have never done it myself but I’ve watched it done to other people.”

“What is it?”

“Turn around and I’ll show you.”

With great difficulty, I did.

At my side, Dracula propped himself up on his elbow as he lifted my shirt, gathering it over my shoulder. Curious, I gave him a look from where my head laid on the pillow. If he saw me looking at him, he ignored it. Instead, he regarded my naked back appreciably. I shivered.

“Is that pain or cold?” he asked. In the little light coming from the window, his face was shadowed and I could see only his strong nose and jaw. 

“Neither.” My cheeks warmed. “I like how you look at me sometimes.”

“I like looking at you,” he answered. He touched between my scapulas and drew nearer, the shadow of his frame looming over me for a moment. I turned slightly towards him, and though my head screamed in protest, I endured the dull thud if only to meet his lips with my own. I let go a moment later, resting my head between the pillows and closing my eyes. Dracula swept my hair up and to the side, leaving my back completely bare for him. Then, his fingers slid down, pressing each of my vertebrae, as if counting them on my spine. “Such beauty.”  

I hummed to his voice, not really taking in his words, except that I was too dazed by his touch. He rubbed my skin tenderly, then harder, then softly again, until my back felt hot even under his cold fingers. Again, came the ritual of counting my bones and I found myself counting silently along with him, but abruptly he stopped and began rubbing my back again in such a way that I felt my lungs working inside my rib cage, struggling to sustain the savage caress as he rubbed and squeezed until I was exhausted. From my tailbone to my cervical spine, each bone was counted again and this time he recited aloud in a language that grew ever familiar to my ears, hypnotising me with the sound followed by the soft press of his fingers on my back. 

“Count for me, darling,” he asked.

“18, 19, 20…” And I kept counting to the point where I mixed English with what I believed was Romanian. When he began rubbing my back harshly again, I imagined it was an angry red, but when I moaned it was in delight and not in complaint. A spot near my shoulder was squeezed and pulled, then released. It burnt for a few moments, then as if something wet had cooled over it, it became hard and soothed the pain. As my spine was finished being counted, my ribcage was prodded next and I counted aloud. “Unu, dui, trai-”

“ Trei .”

“Trei,” I corrected. “Patru, cinci, ah…” Where his finger had just touched, the skin was pulled into something cold. Again, it burnt. I moaned and then I was released again, where a dampness swelled and was quickly rubbed away until I was driven to exhaustion again.

He muttered in Romanian - long phrases that could not be confused with anything as simple as counting -  as he kneaded my flesh as if attempting to mold it to his liking. At times, his fingers closed so tightly around me that I thought I might tear but then came that rubbing that shook my body from side to side. Then, my skin being pulled into something cold again, burning white hot for a second and then fading along with the pain in my head.

A cloying scent hung in the air. All I could think about was getting my pain extracted and rubbed away from me at the harsh, warming hands of Dracula.

_____________________________________________________________