This one-shot forms part of the history to Darkness is Falling. It's about the breakdown of Vlad and Erin's relationship. I wanted to tell Vlad's side of the story as I don't think his situation really shone through clearly in DiF. I might write another one-shot explaining Erin's perspective at a later date.
It's very dark and angsty. Vlerin fans have been warned that this may not be to their taste.
Hope you enjoy!
xo
Temptation
'Sooner or later, temptation would break Vlad and when it did, Bertrand would be there to pick up the broken pieces' (Cherries)
"Don't you dare walk away from me!"
"You can't order me around. I can see who I want."
"I swear to Lucifer if you take one step out of that door..."
"You'll what? Go on Vlad, what exactly will you do?" Erin stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the blazing brightness of the afternoon sun. The sunlight transformed her hair into gold and even through his anger, Vlad still felt the kick of attraction he got every time he looked at her.
Using his super speed, Vlad caught her arm roughly before she could step outdoors and away from him. "Why are you being like this?" he demanded. He looked over Erin's shoulder as she tried to tug her arm from his impossibly tight grip and shot a malevolent glare at Jonno who was waiting in the car. Jonno just smirked and waved his sunglasses at Vlad in a mocking gesture. Vlad's grip tightened painfully on Erin's arm.
"Vlad, get off me!" Erin spat the words out, her face flushed pink with anger.
Vlad moved to place his other hand on her cheek but Erin deliberately twisted away from his touch. "Stay, please," Vlad was almost pleading with her. "We'll have a nice afternoon in." When Erin stubbornly shook her head, Vlad's fangs dropped. "What can he give you that I can't?" The desperation in his voice was all too evident.
Erin shoved at his chest. "Normality!" She stumbled backwards as Vlad suddenly let go of her, hurt written all over his face. "Ice cream in the park. A picnic in the sun. Feeding some ducklings. Just a normal day. I just need to get out of this place." She turned her back on Vlad and straightened her jacket, pulling the strap of her handbag up again on her shoulder. Slowly, deliberately she began walking towards Jonno.
Vlad moved to follow her but found Bertrand blocking his path. The tutor wrapped a muscled arm around his shoulders in an attempt to prevent Vlad from rushing out into the sunlit courtyard. A low lightly accented voice murmured in his ear, "Don't be an idiot Vlad, you'll burn to a crisp." Knowing that Bertrand was right, didn't stop Vlad from trying to press forward.
"Erin!" Vlad bellowed her name but she didn't even turn around. Instead, Jonno jumped out of the car and sauntered around to the passenger's side to open the door for her. Erin wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug that was much too tight and much too long for Vlad's liking. Jonno's hands slid much lower than acceptable and when Erin pulled back, her face was lit up with a brilliant smile, the likes of which Vlad hadn't received from her in several weeks. It felt like a stake through his heart.
Bertrand's lips brushed against the sensitive skin of Vlad's ear as the older vampire whispered softly, "That slayer girl is making a fool of you." Bertrand's arm loosened as the car sped off. "Everyone can see it but you." There was no mistaking the emotion in Bertrand's voice, an emotion that Vlad never thought he would hear from his tutor – pity.
Bile rising in his throat, blinking back the tears, Vlad turned rapidly and sped away to his coffin.
A sinister smile flitted across Bertrand's lips as he watched his protégée storm off. Poor little Chosen One. All those teenage hormones, all that responsibility weighing on his shoulders... Over the past few months Bertrand had been working Vlad harder than ever. Council protocol, vampire law, sword fighting, telepathy, even the Count had expressed some mild concern at the darkness of the circles under Vlad's eyes. Then there were the demands of the High Council, their voices growing ever more shrill as Vlad approached his majority, the Guild's slippery negotiations and half broken promises, the increasingly desperate manoeuvres of Magda Westerna as she scrabbled for some of her son's power.
The Chosen One had started having nightmares, sometimes Bertrand could hear his voice crying out before he woke up in a cold sweat, no matter how fast Bertrand moved to be at Vlad's coffin side, his protégée wouldn't speak of the terrors that haunted him. That was when he could at least sleep; he knew Vlad often tossed and turned in his coffin, unable to face the dark depths which awaited him should he fall unconscious. Too many times, Bertrand had been shaken awake by a Vlad who was barely able to stand on his own two feet let alone engage in any purposeful training.
Sometimes a pinprick of remorse would pierce Bertrand's resolve, a part of him, a tiny insignificant part, hated the way Vlad's laughter had become all too infrequent, how Vlad was so clearly suffering without anyone to turn to, but on those occasions Bertrand forced himself to turn away from the silent cry for help in Vlad's sapphire eyes. Because it was necessary. Vlad had to be broken so that he could be remade. How else could he become the saviour of vampirekind?
Judging from today's outburst, it appeared that the Dracula fledging was finally approaching breaking point. All he needed was the tiniest of nudges.
Staring at the inside of his coffin lid had become an all too familiar and depressing occupation. Hands folded across his chest, Vlad counted the individual metal links for what seemed like the thousandth time. Sometimes, his coffin was the only place where people left him alone. Really, he should have been down in the training room, working off the anger in a constructive manner with Bertrand but Vlad just couldn't face his tutor and the sadly knowing look in his eyes.
'What can he give you that I can't?' The words echoed around in his mind. The darkness inside taunted him, could he have sounded any more childish? Was he really so weak that Erin preferred a slayer to him? The memory of Erin's arms around Jonno's neck brought fresh wetness to Vlad's eyes. No matter how many times Erin denied it, Vlad knew there was something going on between the two of them. Erin's insistence that she and Jonno were just friends did nothing to soothe Vlad's jealousy. Didn't she see the way Jonno's eyes flickered over her body? Was she really blind to the motivation behind his many visits to Garside Grange? Erin had lied to him so many times now that Vlad struggled to believe her. He wanted to. Oh stakes and garlic, he wanted to. But how times had she fixed those beautiful clear blue eyes onto his and swore that she was telling the truth only for the jumble of lies to be exposed later?
Wearily, Vlad clicked his fingers, the coffin lid opened and he sat up slowly. Rubbing his eyes roughly, he pulled his knees up against his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Everything was grey. His entire unlife felt grey, like all the vividness and colour had been drained away. Sometimes the tiredness was overwhelming and yet he still fought against it. He didn't want to close his eyes. Cold numbness had settled into his bones, the only part of him that felt remotely alive was his heart, the emotional pain manifesting itself as a physical ache inside his chest.
Why couldn't she love him? Perhaps once she had tried to, but now it was like she had given up on him. Their relationship had always been ... for lack of a better word – chaste. It had to be difficult for Erin; being in a relationship with something that you had been brought up your entire life to believe was evil. Something that was your duty to slay. Vlad was sympathetic to that; he would have given Erin all the time in the world if only she would have just... Vlad sighed deeply. Of course that little incident with Armand hadn't helped matters. Witnessing Armand's brutal attack on Carolyn Smith from Year Twelve had left Erin traumatised. Even Vlad's method of dealing with the rogue vampire, a decisive stake through the heart, had widened the gap between them. Ever since then, Erin had barely touched him. She practically flinched when he moved to brush his fingers against hers let alone anything more intimate. It was the rejection that hurt more than anything else. Because Erin was meant to believe in him, she was meant to understand that he was different from other vampires, that he wasn't the monster that everyone else wanted him to be.
It was eating him alive. The hurt, the bitterness, the self loathing. He needed Erin now more than ever. For all Ingrid's taunts about being the first Grand High Virgin, it wasn't sex that Vlad longed for. He just wanted a cuddle, to be held in someone's arms and told that everything was going to be ok even when it blatantly wasn't.
Even his most secret desire was pathetic and weak, he was pathetic and weak, Vlad scowled in self-disgust as he climbed out of his coffin. Sitting on the bottom edge, he placed his head in his hands, his fingers sliding through the blackness of his hair as he tried to make some sense of the awkward situation with his girlfriend.
Girlfriend. How quick he had been to use that word at the start. His pride in getting someone as beautiful as Erin to even look twice at him. Now the word was acidic upon his tongue. Was she anything to him now? More importantly, was he anything to her?
A soft knock on the door disturbed his thoughts and for once Vlad was grateful for the interruption. Barely lifting his face, Vlad called to the person on the other side of the door. "Come in."
As soon as the door opened, a heavy mixture of jasmine and musk drifted into the room. A stunningly beautiful vampiress followed suit, Esmeralda – ostensibly his tutor for dancing. 'The Grand High Vampire cannot be seen to stumble!' Even now Bertrand's horrified words caused Vlad to snigger. It was Bertrand's job to be uptight and stuffy but sometimes the older vampire excelled himself. Vlad's protests had quickly faded away at the sight of his new tutor. He had been expecting someone as equally stuffy as Bertrand but Esmeralda, at a mere one hundred years old, was anything but a stuffy matron. Her large dark eyes, black curls and perfect figure had managed to distract even the Count's attention from Miss McCauley for all of five minutes. Her dresses always verged on scandalous and her outrageous flirting always made Vlad profoundly grateful that he had lost the ability to blush on his sixteenth birthday.
Even now despite the darkness of his mood, Vlad couldn't help the rush of attraction that flooded through his body at the sight of the vampiress leaning against the doorframe, a bottle of red liquid dangling carelessly from her perfectly manicured hands, the lighting from the hall shining through the chiffon of her skirt highlighting her perfectly shaped legs. With immense difficulty, he forced himself to look back down at the safety of the floor.
"You weren't at lunch; I thought you might be hungry." The door clicked shut as Esmeralda stepped further into the room. Her bare feet made barely any sound against the exposed floorboards. There was the sound of a cork being popped before the air was flooded with the rich delicious scent of blood. Vlad's eyes darkened almost immediately, his fangs ached to descend, his stomach rumbled with hunger, an embarrassingly loud sound in the quietness of his room.
Vlad closed his eyes briefly, struggling to maintain control over his more animalistic urges, "I don't drink that," he forced the words out.
Esmeralda's perfume surrounded him; it was a potent mixture when combined with the blood. There was the sound of silver clinking, of chiffon grazing the floorboards and when Vlad reopened his eyes, he found himself staring into Esmeralda's face, just inches from his, as the vampiress knelt on the floor before him.
"Not ever?" A playful smile curled the left corner of her red mouth.
The coldness of her hand on his knee almost made Vlad jump in surprise. He swallowed hard, glancing down at her hand only to get distracted by the whiteness of the flesh exposed above her tightly laced corset. Biting his lip, it took considerable effort for Vlad to turn his head away. "No. Never." Esmeralda's closeness, not to mention the scent of that damn blood, was clouding his thoughts, making it more difficult than ever to think clearly. A cold finger trailed lightly up his thigh, a wave of arousal slammed through Vlad. It had been so long since anyone had touched him, let alone like that.
Esmeralda leant closer, her slim body almost touching his torso, her graceful neck exposed to his mouth, the smoothness of her skin skimming against his cheek, her lips pressing provocatively against his ear, "How can you resist?"
The words were spoken with such soft wickedness, so loaded with meaning that Vlad was almost certain she was speaking of more than merely abstinence from blood. As she pulled back, her hand slipped dangerously high on his leg and before the thought had properly materialised in his mind, Vlad found himself leaning forward, crushing his mouth against hers, clumsily at first, then more confidently as a pale hand glided up to entangle itself in his hair, as her lips met his with eager passion, her tongue teasing his in a way that made him groan aloud. The matching coldness of her mouth against his was exciting, the wildness of her response exhilarating beyond anything that Vlad had yet experienced. Best of all, when his guard slipped and his fangs lowered, she didn't flinch away from him instead she moaned his name and pressed closer.
When she pulled back, red lips swollen, pupils dilated with lust, Vlad was so dazed from the kiss that it took him a few seconds to catch up, he opened his mouth to stutter an apology for his disgraceful behaviour but the words never made it past his lips as Esmeralda's cool fingers slipped gracefully beneath his T-shirt, as she tugged him downwards for another searing kiss, as their clothes were discarded upon the floorboards.
Afterwards, after the awkward fumbling, after the shyness of being naked and after the wild urgency and that all too brief moment of ecstasy; yes afterwards Vlad felt strangely empty. There had been no tender words, no assurances of feeling, not even a moment in which they lingered in each other's arms, all of which Vlad knew he wasn't supposed to want but he did. As Esmeralda departed, shooting him a smile, full of seductive promises, over her shoulder, Vlad forced his lips to curve upwards. Crawling back into his coffin, Vlad shut his eyes tightly to prevent the tears from spilling over. Guilt gnawed painfully at his insides. Now he finally understood what others meant when they said that things had just happened.
Hours later, Vlad heard the slamming of car doors. Rushing from his coffin to the window, he watched as Erin and Jonno argued over the bonnet of the car. His stomach churned as he observed the way in which Jonno grabbed Erin's shoulders, trying to pull her into a hug, the way Erin twisted free of him, a guilt-ridden expression marring her lovely face. A terrible pain in his heart began to displace the cold teeth of guilt. They were acting like lovers. Vlad turned away from the window, unable to watch the girl he once adored fall into the arms of another. It was over. It had been for a long time but he just didn't want to admit it.
And later when Erin came into his room, her cheeks flushed with colour, her eyes over bright, the incriminating scent of the slayer clinging to her hands and lips, when her mouth, her beautiful, treacherous, lying mouth stammered out those dreaded words, "We need to talk," Vlad didn't wait for her to finish. He couldn't stand it; he didn't want to hear the words that would make it all final, he didn't want to hear platitudes about how it was never going to work anyway, how it wasn't him, it was her because they both knew it was untrue. They both knew that when it came down to it, Vlad was simply unlovable. So he brushed past her, ignoring the way she tried to grab his sleeve, the apologies that came tumbling from her lips.
He found himself heading towards Esmeralda's room, it wasn't what he truly needed or wanted but it seemed it was all that he would ever be worth.
In the dimness of the corridor, Bertrand watched intently as Vlad disappeared into Esmeralda's room. Allowing himself a small smirk of satisfaction, Bertrand headed downstairs towards the training room. He had much work to do. Finally, temptation had broken Vlad. Soon, it would be time to put him back together, in a true vision of the perfect vampire leader.