London; May 3, 1715.

Cautiously she entered Westminster Abbey, the candles flickered to and fro with her passing, unnerved by the atmospheric disturbance in the most sacred place within the city. Outside the streets were in a fright, the sun had disappeared, a solar eclipse the scientists had claimed it to be, but they were deemed to be heretics and for that their words could not be trusted. The sack-back gown from floral calico material made her stand out amongst those who worked in the Abbey with their drab colored robes, the rising temperatures made the dress nearly insufferable; she approached the alter, like so many others, and paid her respects. The engageantes tacked to her sleeves tickled her skin as she lowered her head.

The darkness made the interior of the cathedral look haunting, long shadows were cast, the murmurings of prayers and the voices that read the scripture ceased when the temperature seemed to drop. Suddenly the heavy dress did not seem to be enough to provide warmth, people began to flee from the Abbey and priests gathered in separate rooms. But she sat rooted to the pew, shivering even more, her heart beating frantically and urgently. A scream was caught in her throat when fingers brushed over her neck, but she was alone, terrifyingly alone, a select number of candles extinguished themselves, and she felt the lingering caress again.

"Such a fragile neck," she heard the voice before she saw the man it belonged to, the only thing that held her gaze was his eyes, golden-green irises that were barely there, his pupil's dilated in some primal urge that was solely animalistic. Black hair was in a disarray half falling out from the loose tie, the dark brocade fabric of his waistcoat was stained with a dull crimson color. She wanted badly to scream but some hidden part said not to turn, to give into this dark and forbidden desire.

The man extended his hand and regardless of what her mind was shouting she took it and was quickly yanked from her seat, the trailing fabric of her gown nearly causing her to fall as it was tangled beneath her heels and ankles. After that degree of freedom she was frozen once again, whether by witchcraft, her own desire, or the inability to run she didn't know; but the mysterious man leant forward, inhaling her scent as if he could become drunk from it.

"Who are you?" The girl managed to speak, her voice a squeak compared to the normal tone it carried. As if suddenly remembering his manners he took her hand once more, bringing it to his lips as he sunk down in quick homage.

"Adam, my lady." When he looked up to her the fear was clearly written on her delicate features and oh, how he relished the way it smelled radiating from her. His lips were pulled back into a feral smile, the oblong and pointed canines proudly showing. A darkness stirred within her blood at the sight, and she cursed it.

"You're a vampire." She stuttered, he circled her like a predator, appreciating his taste in victims, although she had to be a step up from previous ones. Part of him hated to waste her so quickly without truly savoring what she could provide. He trailed his nose up the pale column of her neck, enjoying how she reacted to his touch, she was so responsive.

"How very observant of you." The coiffed and curled hair was vibrant and fiery, but he much preferred to feel the strands of his prey's hair tickling his cheek and forehead as he feasted and so he pulled away the pins and small flower that matched one of the many on her dress. She was relieved from the pressure the style had forced on her scalp and unthinking she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Halt!" One of the priests stood at the opposite end of the aisle, a crucifix and vial of holy water in hand, "You shall go no further servant of Lucifer! Go back to the darkness from whence you came." Adam hissed in discomfort and his control over her small body weakened and then disappeared completely. Quickly, he turned to his desired meal and pressed his lips against hers, soundly, despite the way she pressed against his shoulders. When he pulled away he was gone and the lady coughed, something dark and dangerous settling deep inside of her but it felt so right. The priest ran towards her helping her to a seat.

"Miss, miss; you have been touched by the devil himself;" she shook her head vehemently, he lifted the blessed water, pouring some into his old and wrinkled hand, attempting to bring it to her face but abruptly she stood. The discomfort at being near anything holy was too much to bare, knocking the priest's hand away the vial of water shattered on the floor, and she ran, her heel breaking the crucifix he had dropped, the sun had returned.

Her house was naught but fifteen miles from the city's center, hailing her horse and carriage driver she ushered him to make haste, and so they bolted through the city streets, nearly knocking pedestrians over. Every bump and hole was felt at the reckless pace. Relief flooded through her to see her orchard and then the chimney of her house. She rested her hand on her driver's shoulder, thanking him for his assistance before she stole away into her house; her handmaid followed her up the stairs and into her room. "Miss, are you alright?"

Weakly she nodded and requested her work chemise, at that the maid swiftly retrieved the articles of clothing and helped her lady from the constricting corset and petticoat. "Miss! You're shivering!" Vaguely she acknowledged the way her skin had erupted into horripilation but despite the maid's urging she did not wear a cloak or have a small fire started, instead she sat contemplatively at the table in the sitting area of her room.

"Darla, please inform Sir Thomas that I have fallen ill and therefore cannot accompany him to the King's Ball." The command fell easily from her lips, she was far too used to this life, of solitude, away from the need of suitors. Her maid curtsied, "Oh and Darla, please bring my tea when you return, extra sugar today." Once more the maid nodded before exiting the room, she watched as the maid passed down the stairs but her door abruptly closed and that ghastly chill was returning as the dark figure stepped out from the shadows, carefully dancing around where the sunlight entered the room.

"If you have come to kill me then I suggest you do so at night when my house workers are not attending to my needs with chary vigilance." He chuckled at her words and sat across from the lady, her fiery hair still remained tousled from his hands, her scent was still intoxicating and it could drive him to madness. "I also suppose that you haven't dropped by to share in my afternoon tea," now it was her that was watching him, her viridian eyes tracing every movement of the dark guest. She was not afraid as she had been earlier.

"If I was a guest then I would know the name of my most gracious host." He raised a brow in challenge and question. She smiled politely, and folder her hands in her lap, hardly caring that her chemise was made for sleep, her smile was almost condescending in a way. Adam could hardly believe her audacity and the skill of her wit now that she was not frozen in place beneath his spell.

"Izabella." He tested the name, noting how it rolled of is tongue and the taste it left in his mouth. Feigning to be a gentleman he reached for her petite and delicate hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips for the second time that day. The urge to devour her wholly was nearly overwhelming but he put on his most charming smile.

"A pleasure, Izabella." The knocking at her door was fierce and panicky, she eyed the man daring him to stay whilst her maid was present but he waved his hand, simultaneously opening the door and returning to lurk in the shadows somewhere unseen. Darla set the tray down, pouring a steaming cup full of tea before adding three cubes of sugar instead of the usual one, at that Izabella raised her hand dismissing the maid.

"Miss, are you sure you are alright? I heard you speaking as if there were another in this room." She assured the maid that all was well and each carried out the rest of their duties. Night fell and after a small meal she returned to her room to find the pestilent Adam lounging on the settee at the foot of her bed.

"Well do tell your reason for plaguing me with your presence this day." She retorted, her hands defiantly resting on shapely hips. Adam chuckled under his breath, the sound was low and the lady of the house could feel the reverberations deep within her belly, that hint of darkness seemed ecstatic and grew. He stood, his long body standing in front of the lady with two strides. Lazily, he curled a tendril of the perfumed hair around his finger, a sly smile on his lips and pulled back just enough to reveal fangs.

"At first look I was set on making a meal out of you, but now, however, it is not just the life elixir that flows through your veins that I crave, but you." Her cheeks flushed and the vampire pressed his face into her neck, suckling the pulse point there. She gripped his biceps, pushing him towards the bed, the notion earned a small nip at her shoulder, not forcefully enough to draw blood lest he be sent into a frenzy before he could divulge in other pleasures.

With a wave of his hand the curtains fell before the windows, the door closed and locked with an audible click and the number of candles illuminating the room was reduced to half. "I have a condition though," Izabella pushed him far enough away that he was able to focus on her words and not her body.

"I'm listening." He flicked his tongue over the point of each fang, that act made the lady press her legs closer together, the growing heat there was near unbearable.

"You turn me," Adam did laugh at that statement, the space between them grew to be non-existent as he tipped her chin up, the golden irises that stared down at her were so otherworldly and undoubtedly beautiful in a forbidden way. That was his entire aura and it appealed to the sliver of darkness that loved to fester within her, her hands dug into the musculature of Adam's chest. She wanted this, her entire body screamed for this to happen, that she belonged with the night.

"I do not think you know what you are asking me to do. To give up living, become a slave to the night, it is a miserable life for one such as yourself." She shook her head as his lips grew closer to hers, her eyes fluttered shut as the cool flesh pressed against hers. His hands grappled with the material of the chemise until he was confident that the leverage was right and that it could be ripped from her body, and he did just that. She gasped at the strength and sound of material tearing, leaving her unclothed. His appreciative gaze was feral but was soon broken when the gentle lady began undoing the richly decorated waistcoat; tossing it to the settee along with his billowing white shirt.

His skin was like marble beneath her hands and beneath her lips. She toyed with the ties of the breeches he wore until a savage growl sounded within his throat, and from there he tossed her the bed, pinning her beneath his weight, relishing her scent and the sweet taste of her sensitive flesh. The lust that exuded from her was even more enticing that the fear he had smelt erstwhile that day. He tortured her with nips from sharpened teeth, soothing each angry red mark with a swipe of his tongue. Adam watched her writhe and whimper until the urge to consume her was far too much to resist.

Izabella gasped, her hands digging into his shoulders as he seated himself within her, drawing out each motion until she beckoned him on, pulling him deeper. His vision clouded and all he could feel was her heat, all he could hear was the racing beat of her heart, and all he see was the vein on her neck throbbing, begging to be breached.

She clung onto this strange man, this walking shadow, whispering his name until her body threatened to break, until all she knew was the pleasure he was giving her. Though when his teeth sunk into his neck she knew that this was it, there was no retreating now. He cradled her against him, never stopping the gyrating motions of his hips while he drank, she sobbed in pleasure and when he pulled away from her neck he bit his own wrist, drawing the sharp canines across the skin until there was a slit that was as long as her lips. He pressed his bleeding wrist against her lips and she needed no instruction as she began to drink, greedily. Her eyes widened and her pupils were nearly consuming what was left of her teal irises, and before his eyes they changed to gold. Sharp points dug into his skin as her canines grew longer and sharper, even her hair grew darker.

Her blood felt like liquid fire to him and his lifeblood was sweet in a strange way to her. She screamed at one point and quickly Adam retracted his wrist, her lips coated in blood. Her new ferocity was startling as she seemed insatiable, digging nails harder into his skin, pleading for more, which he gave, freely, and unabashedly until all that remained was two sated heaps of flesh with their heavy breathing.

"Welcome to the night, my dearest." He pressed his lips to her temple, she rolled over clinging to his chest and for once he did not run, he stayed, she had to be trained to control the thirst, to control the hunger or risk revealing them all. She was the first he had turned and not killed, and he would not regret it.

Izabella woke the next morning, a strange and coppery taste lingering in her mouth, her chemise completely shredded on the floor and next to her lay the man she had spent her night with. Diffidently, she removed herself from the bed and walked to the mirror, but in it she saw nothing and at that discovery she screamed, loudly and shrilly. Adam bolted up and looked at her panicked state before laughing. She could hear Darla climbing the stairs but before she even knocked the lady of the house called her off, assuring her it was a tiny nuisance and nothing more.

"So the legends are all true? No reflection, no garlic, wooden stake to the chest is the only thing to kill one?" The elder vampire nodded, but stood and cast an enchantment over the reflective glass and slowly she could see both of them.

"Some are true, not all." He replied. Dried blood smeared over lips and chins, two punctures on her neck, she breathed in and Adam drew her back to bed, explaining the precautions that had to be taken, the training that had to be underwent to prevent being found. In time she mastered every aspect he could teach. Then one morning he was gone, there was not a note left but on her nightstand was a small crystal glass with a long stem, the craftsmanship was superb but it would hold no more than an ounce at most, picking up the trivial item she smiled. Indeed, she was one with the night now.