IMPORTANT NOTE: This chapter earns me the M rating for sex. If this bothers you, scroll down to a triple line break. I'd like to think the scene is important to the story, but hey, it was also fun to write. ;)

Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews. It really means a great deal to me! I was inspired to write this after the Netflix series as well - I loved the interesting take on Dracula for a change, and I wanted to keep going with it. I also try not to write anything predictable! So let's see where it goes.

It took her a solid ten minutes to pull herself off of the floor. Her back and neck ached badly from being put through the coffee table. She had been in a few decent dust-ups in her years traveling the world - so she knew when she was going to get one hell of a bruise.

She took a step, winced, and stretched. Bending her head to the side, she cracked her neck, and felt a little better - for what it was worth.

Isabel walked up to a dresser with a large silver-framed mirror, and stretched to peer over her shoulder at her back. A red and angry mark decorated the skin between her shoulderblades revealed itself to be the source of the burning she felt.

This was the first time Dracula had raised a hand to her. For all that he'd done, he hadn't ever hit her. Not until she couldn't keep her cool any longer and decided to open her big fat mouth. And now… god help her. Was it worth it? Was it worth it to throw his stupid demand in his face? Why had he asked her to kneel? Why ask her to debase herself like that?

A small buffet table was against the wall, decorated with decanters and she walked over to pour herself a drink. She'd need it. Maybe if she got herself half trashed, she wouldn't feel whatever torture he was going to levy on her. Oh - look - bourbon. Thank god for small favors.

Dracula must have known how she would react when he commanded her to kneel. She sipped the bourbon. He must have known what she would do-

Oh.

That fucker.

Of course he knew… Of course Dracula knew how she would react. He wasn't testing her - he was playing her.

A roar of fire from behind her, and she felt him wash over her like hot water. Fear gripped her, and she downed the glass of bourbon. She didn't even flinch as it burned her throat. Tex would have been proud.

It must be him having fed from her and her blood in his veins that made it feel so bizarre when he was close. When he was near her, she could feel his presence like it was a physical thing wrapping around her mind. It was both somehow horifying and… she didn't know a word for the other half of it.

She poured herself another bourbon, and turned around to face him. He stood there, watching her, his features dour and unreadable, his emotions simply that of… waiting. Watching.

Isabel wondered what he expected her to do.

She imagined that he had seen it all - seen people cry, weep, beg for forgiveness. Scream, fight him, sling punches or claw at his face. Or righteous defiance, pitching invectives and curses, pledges that they were untouchable in the eyes of god. A flash of a memory of a quiet resilience of a nun, who refused to say anything or do anything at all. He had seen all of it before in scores - thousands of people had chosen one path or another over his countless centuries. Isabel felt the knowledge hovering beneath the surface. Their link. She wondered if she would ever have a quiet moment alone in her own head in her short days she had left.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, sipping the bourbon. "Which one of those people do you want me to be?" Isabel knew that despite her attempt to be nonchalant about the ordeal, the fear that raged beneath the surface was impossible to hide. So, she didn't try to mask the fact that her hand was trembling as she had raised the glass to her lips.

Despite how much time she had spent in his presence - his looming stature, red eyes, and his ever-frowning expression was as intimidating as it ever had been. He could end her with a gesture. And yet, now she knew the horrible truth. If she died here… she would never leave. Isabel assumed that the revelation of that little fact was also part of his plan for the evening.

She had decided it was easier to stare directly ahead - at his vest, instead of into the flickering gaze that stared straight into her. "You knew what I'd do - you knew I'd open my mouth and say something stupid in anger."

"I did."

"You played me. This was all a scheme - Adam, and now Tim and Maverick proving that even if I die, I can't escape. You set it all up."

"Yes."

"Why?!"

When he lifted his hand, she flinched - and she heard him laugh once. His hand went to her chin, and a single pointed nail lifted her head to look at him. "For no other reason," he sneered. "Than my own amusement. The continuation of our… game."

"I-"

"And since your outburst was public, your punishment must be so as well."

"Wait-"

He cut her off, stepping towards her, his hand moving to cup her chin as he held it tilted to look up at him. His long dark hair was loose, and shone in the candlelight of the dark room. His eyes glinted as if they had their own source of light. "But perhaps…" he paused, and ran his thumbnail ran along the edge of her darkly painted lower lip. His gaze flicked to follow the path he traced, and his expression shifted to something… darker, something she didn't want to name. "It may wait until tomorrow…"

His other hand took the glass from hers, and he moved away from her to set it on a table. His sudden closeness and then his moving away from her made a shiver run up her sore back. "You put me through a piece of furniture," she reminded him as she, too, was reminded by the sudden lancing pain.

Dracula ignored her, although she felt his amusement. He circled her like a shark would circle his prey. It took every ounce of self control to not turn to follow him. "Some wish to be taken… so that their dignity remains. Some to be seduced, some to perform the seduction. Others desire to be broken entirely... Some, too shy and naive to even know what they want. I have spent much time, determining which you are…"

His sudden shift to innuendo baffled her - she turned her head to look at him, and he had stopped behind her. Dracula's comments mirrored the thoughts in her mind that he had echoed of those who begged for forgiveness.

And then it all made sense. Isabel realized suddenly it was all about power… All of this. The giving, taking, and negotiation of power. It was what thrilled him… or bored him, if he played an unworthy opponent. "You still haven't answered which you wish I would be," she said, quietly - very unsure of her position on the board.

Dracula walked back towards her, moving to stand behind her, and she felt stalked like so much prey. At any moment, he might snap and end her. She had insulted him, and Isabel had expected him to lash out at her - expected him to hurt her, to hurt Adam or Eric. Dracula raised his hands to touch her - and her jaw twitched as she gritted her teeth, and waited for the blow.

She felt his nails run along the line of the dress she had chosen, tracing the wound between her shoulderblades, and she stiffened at his touch - and if she had to admit it, only partially out of fear.

Dracula seemed to be examining his handiwork, his fingers gently running along the forming bruise, and she half expected him to press into it to cause her pain. Goosebumps appeared on her skin as she jolted as one of his nails traced a sensitive nerve. She wanted him to just get it over with - to hurt her, or do whatever it was that he felt she deserved for what she had said.

Dracula laughed at her reaction - and likely her thoughts - and she felt him step in closer to her. Isabel felt his cool breath on her skin as his face hovered close to her ear. She shut her eyes tight, and clenched her fists. Waiting. Waiting for the blow that didn't come.

Instead, she felt his lips against her skin, on the spot on her neck just below her ear. She went to step away from him - but one of his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her back against him, pressing her up against his body.

Dracula ran his other hand slowly through her hair, pushing her head just slightly to the side. His lips grazed her ear as he whispered, his voice low and deep. "What I wish you would do… you may find remarkably distasteful."

The hand that had run through her hair was now dragging his nails faintly down her throat, and to her collarbone, and then further south, tracing the line of her dress across her bust. Isabel pulled in a sharp breath and shut her eyes as she twitched under the sensation.

"You are wonderfully responsive," he said with a small chuckle into her ear.

"You're cheating…" she muttered back.

"Oh?" he pulled his head away from her ear, and she could feel his playful indignancy. "You accuse me of cheating simply for playing an instrument never before touched?"

Isabel growled and opening her eyes, elbowed him in the stomach. It was like elbowing a wall - and she knew it wouldn't do any good. It hadn't been the point. Dracula laughed, and she shrieked as he suddenly grabbed her and whirled her around to face him. Before she could react or register what was happening, he had picked her up, taken two large strides then sat her on top of a table against the wall. "What do you-" she tried to protest - but her words were cut off as he kissed her.

Isabel's mind emptied of thoughts as his lips met hers with a fiery need that washed over her. Her stomach felt like it had fallen into a pit. His hand snaked around behind her neck, lacing into her hair and pulling her head to him as he deepened the kiss.

She moaned against his lips, eyes shutting, unable to help it as he assaulted her senses. His other hand pushed her knees apart to stand between them, moving closer to her and angling her head up towards him, arching her back. His hand slid up her leg from knee, slowly inching north until it slipped under the fabric of her dress, and she let out a small 'mmnh!' against his lips. Whether it was a noise of protest, or out of the thrill that ran through her nerves, she herself didn't know.

He broke the kiss slowly, leaving her breathless, his hand still cradling the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. She looked up at him, seeing the smoldering lust in his eyes.

After a pause, he stepped back away from her, his hand releasing its hold on her hair and leaving her, sitting on the edge of the table. She slipped off, back to standing, her hands gripping the edge of the marble top as she did. Isabel was trembling - overwrought.

Make your choice, his voice echoed in her mind.

Her heart was pounding, and she looked at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He was letting her decide… and she knew he meant it. If she said no, despite the burning she felt from him, he would leave her be. Well, at least until tomorrow...

"You… plan on torturing me publically," she reminded him.

Dracula sighed. "You must meet some recompense for your actions, yes." He paused, and added as an afterthought. "I am complex, I understand." He shrugged once, unapologetic.

"Will… Will I survive it?"

"That will be up to you."

Isabel shut her eyes, conflicted. With a pause, she finally admitted to herself that she… wanted him. He was gorgeous - built like a statue, and his danger was both terrifying and thrilling. He was like some dark greek god. But older… she reminded herself. Isabel hated him for what he had done to her, to her friends. But he, himself... and his touch… had become intoxicating, and she couldn't help but relish in her first real contact. It was a terrifying thrill that she couldn't deny left her breathless. He could have made this simple, and just forced her. Or, honestly, just kept going - leaving her helpless and unwilling to say no.

But he had stopped. Dracula wanted her to embrace him. And tomorrow, he might end her life. Isabel tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation - and that hey, if she died tomorrow… this was her only shot. I wonder if this counts as Stockholm Syndrome, she pondered quietly to herself.

She took one timid step towards him, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her dress.

Such beauty…

That felt different - those words inside her mind. Isabel looked up at him, curiously, and blinked. "Did you… mean to - 'say' - that?"

Dracula's jaw twitched as he clenched it. "No. Your gift makes this… challenging to control." He was unaccustomed to being at any kind of disadvantage, and the constant effort it took to keep the connection under control had slipped.

Isabel watched him curiously for a moment, and she took another timid step towards him. "If I-" she started and then stopped, not even sure what she was trying to say. What if she did? What would it mean? Was she surrendering to him? Not really, if she was making a conscious choice… "This doesn't… This doesn't mean you win."

"Of course not…"

Isabel would have accused him of mocking her again, but he seemed… sincere. With one last timid movement forward, she was standing in front of him. Taking off her gloves, she tossed them aside to a nearby chair. Turning back to her, she reached up and for the first time, touched him. Her fingers ran along his face gently, and she let her palm touch his cheek.

He shut his eyes, and leaned into her touch. It had been so long since someone had touched him willingly. It was a strange and grateful pain, loneliness, lust, joy and… self-loathing, all at once. The thoughts fluttered around her mind like they were her own.

She had made her choice. God help her.

She let her other hand run up along his chest, running up the edge of his dark vest, tracing up to the collar of his shirt. Her fingers ran along the skin of his neck, and she stood up on her toes to place a kiss against his lips. It was the first time she had ever kissed anyone. And it was Dracula. The thought almost made her laugh.

His moment of exposed reflection shattered as quickly as it had come. She let out a startled yelp as he suddenly broke the embrace and scooped her up, setting her back down on her feet in the bedroom. Fear suddenly stung at her, panic about what she had chosen.

"Ssh," he ran his hand slowly through her hair, fingers running along her cheek as he bent down to kiss her - slowly, but deeply. Savoring it. Savoring her. One hand went to the back of her neck again, the other slid slowly down her shoulder, fingers brushing along her skin.

She felt useless, foolish in her inexperience. He broke the kiss only to trail slow kisses down her neck to her shoulder. His hands slid around behind her, and began to slowly undo the laces of her dress. Isabel was shaking - but she didn't protest, didn't fight him as he undid the last one, and let the dress slip to the floor.

She hadn't worn a bra, with the strapless dress - it had been a corset-style, so she hadn't needed one. Now she regretted the choice as cold air touched her skin. He returned to kiss her slowly - trying to ease her fears. She fought the urge to cover herself - modesty was pointless now. Isabel stepped out of her heeled boots, and he pressed her back onto the bed, coaxing her to kneel, then lay back on the sheets.

Isabel looked up at him as he climbed onto the bed next to her. He had shrugged out of his coat and vest. She jolted as his hand slid across her side and to her stomach. Dracula smirked down at her at her reaction. With one arm propping him up, he bent down to kiss her. The fiery need grew as he delved his tongue past her lips, deepening the kiss with a low growl.

His hand slowly slid up her stomach, slipping up slowly to run his fingers along one of her breasts. One of her hands quickly found its way to his shirt, gripping it, the other clinging to the sheets. She was terrified - unsure - and her choice of partners didn't help matters. His hand squeezed her flesh, then - and hard, causing her to arch her back, crying out.

Dracula broke the kiss with a laugh and occupied himself by running his tongue along her neck beneath her ear before whispering into it. "Did you expect me to gentle, little dove? I feel as though that would do you a disservice." He kneaded her breast in his hand as he whispered in her ear, and she took in a shuddering gasp.

His head traveled lower, trailing kisses down her skin as she laid there, breathlessly unable to argue. Dracula reached his target, and she let out a low moan as he circled his tongue around her nipple before pulling it into her mouth. Her moan became another sharp cry as he bit down, but not hard enough to break the skin.

Good idea...

Her hand was tangled in his hair now, needing something - anything - to hold onto as he assaulted her skin. He made good on his comment, and she felt his fangs pierce the skin of her breast.

Isabel arched her back into him, unable to even make a noise as her mind went white-hot with pleasure. She was able to finally admit that was what it had always been - a pain and pleasure both that cut straight through her. The strange purr came from his throat again as she felt his own ecstasy echoing in her mind as her hot blood met his tongue.

He only took a mouthful before pulling his fangs from her skin, and lazily began to lick the wound.

"You… you bastard," she muttered weakly in between heavy breaths. Her mind was reeling.

Dracula laughed quietly in response, and sat up onto his knees. Taking the edge of her tights in both hands, he gently pulled them down her legs and tossed them aside. Isabel found the strength to sit up, kneeling in front of him, surprising him as she ran her hands up along his chest. God, he felt like marble.

He knelt there, content to watch her unbutton his shirt as the flame smoldered within him. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and let her hands wander across his skin. Isabel had never touched anyone like this… and it felt… amazing. His pale skin was cool under her own touch, but she didn't mind. Isabel could feel his own desire flare at her timid explorations. She leaned forward, and kissed his skin just at the collarbone.

A low moan left his throat - and Isabel saw in his mind a memory of him cutting himself across the chest with a nail - to let a woman drink from him. She blinked, looking up at him curiously.

Not yet.

He shrugged out of the rest of his shirt, and placed his hand against her lower back, and pressed her to him, feeling the strength of his body against her skin - and feeling his arousal pressed against her stomach through his pants.

For some reason, that made it all real. A feeling like a pit welled in her, like when you pitch over the edge of a rollercoaster. He tilted her head up to his and kissed her again before easing her back down against the bed.

He kept the kiss going as he trailed his hand down her - running down along over her breast, slipping across her stomach, and delving lower to where a fire had begun to grow in her own body.

His fingers slipped under the edge of her underwear, and she let out a 'mnh!' against his lips as he found her core. She jolted, squirmed, and he paused to let her calm down. He lifted from the kiss just enough to run his teeth along her lower lip. Her carefully applied dark lipstick had long since vanished. How I adored to see you in crimson...

Isabel managed to still her body for a moment - long enough to satisfy his patience. A moan escaped her lips as he began to slip one finger inside of her. Her back arched up against him, and he kept the kiss insistent, firm, but not the devouring fire he had before. Isabel knew he was pacing himself for her benefit.

Dracula moaned against her lips as well - and pressed his finger in slowly deeper, before pulling the digit halfway out and then pressing back in, the tempo maddeningly slow. The fire in her body demanded more - what he was doing wasn't enough, even as sensation wracked through her.

His thumb pressed against her sensitive spot and she dug her nails into his skin, gripping him harder as pleasure lanced through her abruptly. He laughed against her, and continued his slow ministrations.

Suddenly he pressed his sharp thumbnail down against her and she writhed, almost bucking his hand off of her and breaking the kiss as she gasped for breath, pleasure flooding her body as an orgasm unexpectedly ripped through her like a train. "Fuck-" she swore through a gasp.

"Generally the idea, yes…" he muttered against her cheek, and she felt his lips curl in a smile. She punched his shoulder weakly for his sarcastic remark, drawing a small chuckle from him.

He pulled his finger from her body, and he slid her underwear away from her, down her legs and discarded it with the rest of her clothing. Shifting, he bent her legs and moved in between them. Holding himself over her with one hand by her head, she felt him undo his pants with the other.

When she felt him press against her entrance, she tensed in fear - and he lent down to kiss her. Everything in her cried wait - but his waiting was over. This was her choice, and it was time. With a hand wrapped around her hip, he drove himself into her in one sharp motion, straight to the hilt. He snarled in pleasure, his eyes shutting. Isabel's back arched, pressing her breasts to his chest as her mind went blank as many things happened at once. He was splitting her apart, filling her - and it hurt. But she had other, more overwhelming sensations to worry about.

She had forgotten about 'her gift' and it's implications… that if this were to happen, there was no telling the outcome. It was easy to forget that she was not allowed these kind of things - easy to forget that it took great control on Dracula's part to keep her power at bay.

He was inside her body - and now… he was truly inside her mind. And she, his. Before, she could feel his thoughts flitting about the surface of his mind - the ones that he let slip. They had explored each other's dreams. But this was to be laid bare before him… and he before her.

It was an echo chamber of emotion - a feedback loop of pleasure that crashed through them both. His lips found hers with a devastating and crushing need. He had wanted this since first he laid eyes upon her - since first he touched her skin and found this little impetuous firebrand invading his mind. He could have taken her at any time - but such weakness would destroy a greater prize. Take the body, and lose all the rest. She had given her body to him willingly - and this let the game continue for the rest of her.

Isabel moaned against his lips, her body slowly calming from the onslaught - feeling her muscles unlock from his thrust into her. She had dug her nails into him - hard enough to leave marks - and she slowly let up her tense grip on him.

As she did, he withdrew from her slowly - almost all the way, before slowly slipping back in. Isabel arched her back against him again as the sensation flooded her mind. He moaned loudly against her lips as her body tightened around him again. Her body fit to his flawlessly - and he felt her buck her hips up against him as he finished his push forward. The simple action almost made him lose control. Dracula wanted nothing more than to eke out against her violently that desire that he had withheld - what he plied his practiced self control to contain.

No. Not yet. Savor this.

Isabel slid her hands to his face, running her fingers through his hair as he kissed her hungrily. It hurt - the feeling of his hard length inside her body - but god… it ached at the same time with a sensation that she thought might drive her insane. His tongue delved past her lips, and this time, she let her own respond to the dance. He moaned against her as she did, and he pulled himself back again, pushing forward back into her body with the same methodical tempo he had used with his finger.

His hand slid from her hip up to cup a breast. Her skin was soft, and impossibly hot under his cool hand. He traced the bite marks he had left there, running the hard nipple between his fingers. Dracula moaned low against her lips, feeling her lift her hips against him again as he bottomed out his stroke. It had been a long time since he had lain with a woman, and this one was not disappointing after the wait. Her body was an inferno around him, and he happily burned within the flames.

How he wanted to destroy her beneath him - push her limits and discover of what she was truly capable.

Finally, he allowed her to breathe, breaking the kiss. Isabel panted for air, her chest heaving, as he rocked his body against hers, methodical - slow - almost a machine in its unwavering force. Her thoughts were his, and vice versa - heard his mind as she felt his restraint - felt the great beast he kept at bay…

Isabel pulled his head to hers - trailing slow kisses up his jaw, to his ear. She nipped his earlobe, and she heard him growl deep in his throat - the hand he used to keep from falling upon her clenching in the sheets.

Finally, she whispered into his ear. "I thought you weren't going to be gentle…"

That was too much for him. Her mind was around his, as vice-like as her body, burning away at both. Her words sent him over the edge, and he happily abandoned his restraint. His hand snaked around under her knee, bending it up towards her, her knee now in the crook of his elbow as he leaned forward, exposing her to him.

Isabel let out a wordless cry as he thrust into her hard - burying himself into her body to the hilt with an impact that drove to her core. He kept his hips against her, not letting up the pressure. She felt him - hard against her end. God, the ache was painful - and god, it was wonderful.

He pulled back slowly - withdrawing from her almost completely before ramming into her again like a piston. Isabel cried out again, writhing underneath him. A third time, and she moaned as ecstasy flooded her, her body unable to handle the onslaught of sensations.

Dracula growled low in his throat, feeling her tense around him as she came from his thrusts - but he would not be stayed. Not now. His tempo increased, his impacts into her still bruisingly strong. The sensation of filling her so completely threatened to end him.

A small wordless noise of ecstasy and pain escaped her throat each time he drove into her and met her end without pity - and she laid there, hips meeting his blows - lost in the pleasure same as he. A glorious creature lay before him - taking his violent need with joy.

Isabel was lost in his mind - lost in the feeling of his body as he leaned back to ease his leverage on her. He gripped her hip now, and pulled her against him with each thrust. Every time she thought it was impossible for her to be driven further, he proved her wrong. A cry of pleasure left her as her body lit up as an orgasm crashed over her like a wave - and this time her body tightening around him was simply too much.

Dracula doubled over her, and let out a loud growl as he met his end. He moaned, and drove his fangs into her neck, drawing another from her as he did. Hot blood splashed against his tongue as he tasted her, taking some of her as she took some of him.

Isabel felt her mind slowly come down from wherever it had flown off to, feeling him sucking on her neck, the speeding tempo of their hearts echoing through her in more ways than one. He pulled his teeth from her skin, licking the wound with a slow, lazy circle.

He pulled himself from her - his tongue still licking the sensitive wound in her neck, making her twitch and whimper underneath him. Dracula was purring low in his throat, and she felt the vibration in his chest. He was utterly content to stay here like this, forever, basking in so many sated hungers.

Isabel laid there, her eyes shut - too overwhelmed for much else. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and she was focusing on breathing. Dracula shifted, moved from her for a moment before she felt a blanket pulled up over her, and felt his weight on the bed next to her.

He wondered if regret would come to her, and if so how quickly - if she would curse him for his seduction. Deny her participation as a trick of her 'gift.' If she would send him away this night. She would curse him for the bruises he left, he was certain. He laid there next to her, propped up on an elbow, watching her.

Isabel slowly opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. She could still hear him in her mind like they were the same person. She reached up a hand and ran her fingers along his face, and pulled his head down to hers. Isabel kissed him slowly, letting her eyes drift shut again. Exhaustion was filling the places where pleasure had been - it was overwhelming. Breaking the kiss, she kept her hand on his face. Stay.

He smiled faintly as he sunk down to the bed next to her, and pulling the blanket up over them, let his arm drape over her as sleep claimed her.

Isabel woke with the feeling of a hand tracing its way slowly through her hair. She was lying on what felt almost like cool marble - but she knew better. Her mind had been quiet of dreams as she slept, and what had happened the previous night came back to her quickly. She felt… rested, for once.

She felt a lot of things, to be fair. Sore, for one, as she shifted slightly. Her back ached from when he had put her through the coffee table at the banquet - the rest of her achine from, well, when she had decided to sleep with him.

Isabel wondered if she should feel shame - regret - if she should be angry at herself, or at him, for what had happened. The hand in her hair stilled, as though waiting for her to decide how she was going to react now that she was conscious. Although his thoughts weren't mingled so directly with hers anymore - she could still feel his emotions roaring away at the surface of her mind.

Content, but wary of her reaction. He seemed eager to know how she would react to what they had done.

Isabel opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at him - she was still naked, underneath the blanket he had pulled on top of them. He was half-sitting against the headboard, looking down at her as her head was on his chest.

"At least if I die," she muttered to him quietly. "It won't be as a virgin."

Dracula laughed once in his throat, and smirked down at her - pleased with her response. Evasive - not admitting defeat, not arguing the point. Speaking of arguing the point, she looked at him curiously. "You still plan on… whatever it is you're going to do for what I said."

His face turned cold, looking much like the statue he often resembled. "Yes."

Isabel narrowed an eye - trying to figure out how that made sense. He - oh. "That's why. That's why you set me up in public like that. Because I embarrassed you in front of your minions… you have to publically display my punishment. … Or else they will think less of you for it." Isabel shifted to sit up, looking down at him - trying to ignore her nudity. Nothing he hadn't seen already.

"Clever," he responded, confirming her theory. "I wonder if you put that together on your own, or if by benefit of your gift."

Isabel shrugged, not knowing the answer. "What I want to know is… okay - why?"

He looked at her, face still cold and empty. "You will have time to come to a conclusion on your own."

She sighed, and ran her hair through her wavy hair. He was still such a mess of contradictions - of quicksilver shifts between emotions and demeanors. Even the fallout of her gift - when their minds were tangled together - gave her little real insight into the 'why' of his actions.

Dracula sat up, placed a hand against the side of her neck, and a kiss against her forehead. He lingered there for a moment, fighting the desire to do more, then released her as he slipped out of the bed. He gathered his shirt from the floor, and began to redress himself.

"Have fun doing the… fire-swirl of shame back to wherever it is you're going," she smirked at her joke.

"I do not understand," he looked at her vaguely confused.

"It's a joke-" she started. "People call it the walk of shame. When you have to walk home in clothes from the day prior, because- oh nevermind," she gave up with a half laugh. She forgot that he had been dead for quite a while.

"Modern humor." Dracula shook his head. "I will give you some time to wake and dress before I return for you."

"Wait-" she stopped him, something occurring to her. He looked at her and raised a thin eyebrow. The vampire wondered if she was going to plead and argue. "I… what do I call you? I've never… I've never referred to you by anything other than your last name, and it… seems really silly calling you anything, knowing how many names you've had…"

"Vlad," he said, his hard expression softening to one that was surprisingly tender. "You may call me Vlad."

And with that, he was gone in a rush of fire.

How do you dress for public torture? Isabel stared into the wardrobe with a sigh. Function over form was hard when you had a vampire king picking your clothing. A deep red halter-top blouse and black slacks, ankle boots. Something she could run in if she ever had the chance. All her options were either black or crimson - and she found herself annoyed and vaguely offended that he wanted her to dress like his possession. Her forearm length gloves gave her some sense of protection, at least. What she wouldn't give for her hoodie.

And so she sat - and waited. She didn't have to for long, as a column of swirling fire appeared in front of her, Dracula at the center of it. She jumped in her seat, startled. Isabel didn't think she'd ever get used to that.

He stood in full regalia - long black coat that reached down to his ankles, deep red shirt, black vest with a silver pocket chain. His long black hair was pulled to the back of his neck, and he looked like the perfect image of a victorian nightmare.

Isabel stood up slowly, and tried to look unafraid. God, he was intimidating. Even with what had happened. He did not speak as he held out a hand to her - and wincing, she put her hand in his. This was going to happen - whatever it was - no matter what she did.

Vlad pulled her close to him, and put an arm around her as the fire exploded around them.

This time, because he didn't drag her through the fire like a rag doll, she appeared on the other side with him without the desperate urge to be sick. He released her, and she took a step away from him, her arms wrapped around herself in a nervous attempt to protect herself.

Isabel looked around and what she saw took her breath away. They were in a giant indoor… arboretum. Monstrous and beautiful plants grew around them - roses of white and crimson ran around them on waist-high walls that ran through the garden. Statues of angels and demons dotted the garden, many with vines growing up their form as though the garden was attempting to consume them.

This didn't look like a place where he was going to wreak some horrible punishment on her. But before her hopes could rise, she felt something prickling at her mind. Turning her head - her heart fell.

The path on which they stood was met by several others in the center of a large circular opening. The center of which was dominated by a gigantic fountain - At least twenty feet tall. The centerpiece of the fountain were the figures of three angels - the one in the middle standing, holding a vase, pouring liquid down towards the hands of the other two who knelt on either side of the standing figure. They looked all in deep pain - their faces forlorn and lost, weeping.

It was beautiful… and horrible.

They were like the angels in a cemetery - and she hated cemetery angels. They were worn by the liquid that flowed through the statue - one was missing several fingers from a hand. Their wings were shattered and broken.

What had prickled at her mind and caused her to turn was the… liquid that flowed through the statue. Isabel didn't know what it was - but it wasn't water. It almost looked like mercury. It ran off the surface of the statues without losing its form, running in complete droplets down into the pool of the silvery, reflective substance in the base of the pool.

Isabel felt dread well up in her and she didn't know why - something in her instinctively knew that this… this was horrible. That this must mean her end. Whatever this was, seemed designed just for her. She turned to flee - turning straight into Dracula.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and another under her chin, turning her to look up at him. Terror was bright in her eyes, and she silently begged him now not to do this - even though she didn't understand it.

"It is called the well of souls," he said, coldly, as he turned her to face the fountain. His hand on the back of her neck pushed her forward, and she staggered as he forced her steps. "What you see… is the physical manifest of the souls in this castle who no longer have the strength… or sanity… to remain whole."

That's why she was so afraid.

That is why this fountain filled her with terror.

What she felt was not one mind - but countless millions. Lost, shattered, broken pieces of souls that screamed in wordless pain. As she was forced to walk forward, the statues… moved. Isabel let out a small squeak in her throat as three stone faces turned to look at her - pupil-less eyes staring into her.

The two who knelt reached out their hands towards her - calling for her - wanting her to be with them. Isabel let out a single sob of fear, and tried to back up. "Please…"

Dracula didn't let her move. "This must be," came his dark voice.

Isabel shut her eyes, and felt tears run down her face. She lifted her hand, and wiped them away. Fine. Fine. This was how she died. As part of a fucking fountain. Alright.

If she was going to die like this, she wasn't going to be thrown into it like a weakling. She angrily shoved his hand off of her neck, and she looked up at him, angrily glaring at him through the tears.

He stood there as cold and impassive as the marble figures around them. Dracula moved to stand aside, hand raised to gesture towards the statue, like one would gesture towards an open door.

Isabel clenched her fists, and looked towards the fountain with its hands outstretched. Stepping up to the lip of the statue, she was shaking in fear. As tough as she tried to be - as tough as she wished she was, she was terrified of what she saw and felt in front of her.

Climbing up onto the edge of the fountain - she tried not to scream as one of the kneeling angels reached out to grasp her arm - yanking her off the edge of the fountain, her arm now over her head as it turned her to face front like she was now part of the fountain. The other angel grasped her other arm. Suddenly she was now being held, suspended by their hands - which were the size of her forearms - over the liquid.

Isabel let out another frightened sob and tried not to kick, scream, or fight. There was nothing she could do against the marble grasp - let alone the vampire king beyond. They pulled her in closer, and she looked up to see the third angel with the pouring mercury-esque liquid. The angels were pulling her under the stream.

She turned her head down, shutting her eyes - and felt the freezing cold liquid hit the back of her neck and run down her back.

And that was the last cohesive thought she had.