Sometimes, all it took was one simple drink to change everything. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins as her senses heightened, things she'd never noticed before becoming plain: the notches on her bed post, the thin layer of dust covering what little books she owned, the faint smell of Velken in the room next to her's. Picking a side had never been so easy. The Count stood above her, fangs extended and eyes a piercing blue that appeared to stare right into her soul. Is this what it had been like for Verona and Aleera? Marishka couldn't blame them, only envy for how long it took for her to be noticed. "My Lord," she groans, feeling faint yet more alive than ever before," Please?"
Her voice is soft, holding the musical quality that made Velken fall in love with her despite his better instincts. "What is it you want, Marishka," he demands in a hissing whisper, a low growl escaping his throat.
"I'm so thirsty." The Count sits on the edge of her bed, moving the bronze hair away from her neck and revealing the twin holes that she had hidden so well from the others. Slowly, he leans forward and digs his fangs into the tender flesh of her neck, making her arch beneath him in both agony and ecstasy as her life's blood traveled from her body into his. It didn't take long for her body to begin to jerk uncontrollably, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her skin such a pale gray that there was no question that she was nearly dead. Swiftly, he pulls away and uses a fingernail to cut his wrist and hold it to her mouth, the crimson liquid flowing down her throat and into her burning belly.
The next time her eyes open, the pale brown is golden and her skin is ashen; her own fangs extended and scraping against her bottom lip. "Master," she smiles, reaching a hand up to caress his face, as cold as her own—cold as a corpse's. She smiles up at him, no longer an innocent smile, but that of a seductress, of a Vampire. She belonged to him now, and she would be one of the best weapons against Velken Valerious in this constant war; the woman he loved on his enemy's side.
Marishka could be the key to destroying the rest of that cursed family and he would use her until her usefulness had run its course. After all, that's what Dracula does best.