The idea for this prequel came into my head and it simply wouldn't leave until I wrote it. I should warn that it is quite dark but that seems to be how I write this couple. There is a possibilty that I might also write a sequel for Indigo explaining Bertrand's later betrayal if anyone is interested.

DiF readers, please accept this as an apology for not posting on Tuesday. Next chapter will be posted tomorrow.

I hope this won't disappoint after Indigo. Enjoy!

xo

Cherries

Hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight, face composed into a mask of polite interest, Bertrand patiently awaited Ingrid's response to his proposition. The soon to be Countess Dracula was studying him intently, those blue almost purplish eyes scrutinising him in a manner that almost made him uncomfortable. Leaning back in her coffin, she raised her glass to her lips and languidly took a sip. She was taking longer than necessary to reply, he knew that she was toying with him. It was nothing less than what he expected. In fact, he would have been disappointed in her, if she had responded immediately, if she didn't exploit this ... unusual situation to its full potential.

Ingrid's tongue flitted out to brush the last remaining drop of blood off her lips. Not for the first time, Bertrand noticed how sexy her mouth was, how full and luscious her lips were, they were lips meant to be kissed. Often and hard.

He caught himself before the mask slipped. If she noticed how his eyes flickered to her mouth, if she saw that glint of desire, she would ruthlessly use it against him like a weapon. He needed to remain focused. This wasn't about attraction; this was about power, about securing Vlad's future as the Chosen One and Grand High Vampire and of course securing Bertrand's place by his side. Vlad's coronation was only a few months away and the entire vampire world was poised on the edge. The Dracula household was full of tension, whispered plots and cunning power plays. Everyone surrounding Vlad had their own agenda, their own purposes to further. Everyone was a rival, an adversary to be mercilessly crushed and that included the beautiful vampiress before him.

"Well, I must admit Bertrand," Ingrid was practically purring the words, "that has be the most ridiculous plan to get into my coffin that I've heard," She paused, her lips curling upwards in a malicious smile, "yet."

Bertrand kept his face expressionless. "It would be nothing more than an alliance formed to achieve a particular goal," he replied stiffly.

Her brother's tutor had always been difficult to read. For someone like Ingrid, who prided herself on the ability to locate and exploit people's weaknesses, Bertrand du Fortunesa was immensely frustrating. He revealed very little, too little, about himself. Even now, as her eyes swept over him, analysing every detail of his appearance, Ingrid wasn't sure of his intentions. His handsome features were blank, his posture rigid and formal, those vivid blue eyes empty of any thoughts or emotions. How very skilful of him.

Her eyes lingered longer than necessary upon the golden flawlessness of his throat, the broadness of his shoulders... looking back up at his face didn't help matters. She couldn't help but notice the slight shadowing of hair on his jaw, the plumpness of his lower lip... Irritably, Ingrid dragged her eyes away from Bertrand's mouth. Yes, he was attractive, she could admit that. But he was also a threat, he had already tried to stake her once to achieve his objectives and she had no doubt he would try it again if the circumstances required it.

The Grand High Virgin. Even now, Ingrid couldn't help smirking at the insult. It was so easy to wound masculine pride and Vlad was no exception. She felt no remorse whatsoever, Vlad should have known better than to intervene in her treatment of Ryan. The half fang was her responsibility therefore she could treat him as badly as she liked. If his pathetic slayer sister couldn't handle it then she could simply flap off.

Ingrid rose gracefully from her coffin, she was fully aware that the black leather corset presented her assets in the most appealing way possible. Ingrid had always been confident of her looks, she knew she was outrageously beautiful even for a vampire. Bertrand's face remained impassive but she could have sworn his eyes flickered over her figure just for a second. She moved towards him slowly, she was in no hurry to rush the conversation, she wanted to drag it out as long as possible. Discomfit him in every way possible.

"Don't you think you are getting a tad obsessive about the slayer?" she drawled provocatively, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

It was with great difficulty that Bertrand restrained himself from snapping. Ingrid wanted rid of the slayer girl as much as he did. The slayer was a distraction, stealing Vlad's valuable time, weakening him with foolish notions of love and humanity. Somehow the couple had to be ripped apart, their relationship had to be destroyed so that Vlad could finally focus on his true destiny – to be the greatest vampire that ever unlived.

The cracks were already there. It was merely a matter of placing pressure on them. The days where Bertrand could physically push Vlad around were long gone. Threats no longer worked on the Dracula fledging and indeed why should they? Vlad was so much more powerful than any of them. He was trying to hide it but Bertrand had caught glimpses of an unearthly energy during their training sessions and he knew that Vlad wasn't being honest about the full extent of his abilities.

No, this was a matter which required finesse. It was about placing emphasis on a particular word, about engineering compromising situations, Bertrand may no longer be capable of physically dominating Vlad but he could still emotionally manipulate him. Chosen One or not, Vlad was still a teenage vampire with all the usual impulses that came along with that status. Sooner or later, temptation would break Vlad and Bertrand would be there to pick up the broken pieces.

"Very well." Bertrand cast a scathing glance at Ingrid, scorn and derision written clearly across his face. "Erin Dracula it is. A slayer as Queen of the Vampires. Hmm." He turned towards the closed door, his hand reaching out for the knob.

With a sudden swoosh Ingrid stood in his way, her eyes glittering red, fangs extended. Placing a hand on his chest she pushed him backwards. "Nobody is taking my rightful place as Queen," she hissed vehemently.

Bertrand gazed down at her, his eyes narrowing in appreciation of her beauty, the scent of her musky perfume surrounding him; he couldn't deny that there was chemistry between them, even if she was his enemy. He caught her wrist within his hand, his stronger, longer fingers wrapping easily around her slender bones, forcefully he pulled her towards him so that their bodies were nearly touching, he couldn't resist smirking down at her, "We had better make it realistic," he murmured, he watched her eyes widen at his words, at how he bent his head to kiss her, his lips brushing firmly against hers, the perfect coldness of her mouth sending a shiver of pleasure through him, hellfire her lipstick tasted like cherries, unbidden a growl rose deep within him and he found himself deepening the kiss, his tongue pushing into her mouth...

His back slammed against the hard floor boards, a groan escaping him at the pain before he could suppress it. A sharp pointed object pressed against his throat. With a grim sigh, Bertrand opened his eyes. Ingrid was standing over him, black hair cascading around her shoulders, her lips swollen, the heel of one of her handmade boots against his neck. This time Bertrand allowed himself to openly admire her. This was the Ingrid he preferred, the powerful and cruel seductress rather than the hurt and vulnerable little girl, Bertrand had no time or pity for weakness.

Ingrid's lips twisted in a snarl. "I don't think so."

This was a dangerous game to play, Bertrand was a formidable opponent and yet staring down at the four hundred year old tutor, Ingrid felt something visceral stir deep inside her. A sadistic smile spread around her lips as she applied slightly more pressure on the heel resting against his throat, watching the flicker of pain across his features. That would teach him to underestimate the Princess of Darkness. Crouching down, she deliberately let her fangs brush against his cheek as she leant forward to whisper in his ear. "On my terms only."

Before he had time to consider her words, she moved swiftly to straddle him, her hands pressing his shoulders down against the floor. Languorously, she let her body slide down against his, the softness of her curves an exciting contrast to his muscled hardness, her gaze never left his as she felt his body rise up to meet hers – in every sense of the word. Bertrand's strangled gasp of pleasure told her everything she needed to know. He may be difficult to read but right now Ingrid knew precisely the effect she was having on him. Lowering her mouth to his, she felt Bertrand grasp her hips to pull her more tightly against him. Oh but dangerous games could be such fun.

Bertrand's timing as he stepped out of Ingrid's room was most fortunate. He narrowly missed a collision with Vlad who was hurrying down the corridor, a pile of books under his arm. "Bertrand," Vlad nodded briefly in acknowledgement as he passed before realising that something was amiss. Turning sharply, he observed that Bertrand was not his usual impeccable self, dishevelled hair, crumpled clothing, an untied shoelace. Vlad glanced from Bertrand to Ingrid's door with horrified embarrassment. "You and Ingrid?!"

Bertrand met his accusatory glare without flinching, "Did you require my assistance?" His voice was cool and polite.

Frowning, Vlad shook his head. He eyeballed Bertrand for another couple of seconds but his tutor said nothing more, just continued to give Vlad a slightly patronising smile. "Yes, actually," Vlad broke the silence, feeling strangely angry and jealous at the thought of another happy couple in Garside Grange especially when things were so strained between him and Erin, "I need some advice on vampire law."

Bertrand nodded, "Very well. Training room, fifteen minutes?"

Vlad nodded curtly, a slight scowl darkening his features.

Turning his back on Vlad, Bertrand ran his tongue across his lips, a grin of genuine delight spreading across his face as he caught the lingering taste of cherry flavoured lipstick. Mmm, he rather liked it.