FYI to my veteran readers - a fair amount of the following was rewritten. Although the ideas are very much the same as the original, the actual writing has changed somewhat. Maybe you'll be able to tell, maybe not, but oh how I love the idea of Hera giving Marishka a music history lesson.
Let me know what you thought of the chapter when you finish. I'm curious to hear your feedback/comments! Forgive any errors I may have missed and enjoy!
XX
Music Lessons & Pushing Buttons
Marishka turned and looked over at Hera with unabashed amazement.
"I've never heard anyone play like that," she exclaimed. "Not even the masters themselves."
Hera blushed.
Here was Marishka, one of Dracula's brides, and she was in awe of her? It was a beautiful compliment.
"You are very talented," the vampire added with genuine earnestness.
"Thank you," Hera answered humbly. "I forgot how much I missed playing. I used to do it all the time before I wound up here. Music has always been my life – well, outside of books, I suppose."
"Yes. The master has expressed his admiration for the extent of your knowledge. It would appear you're talented in music as well. Tell me Hera, is there anything you can't do?"
"Plenty of things," the mortal said with laughter in her eyes. "I can't dance for the life of me. I have two left feet," and Marishka smiled sympathetically. "I can't draw or paint or sculpt or anything artistic like that. I'm not very athletic either, and I'm absolutely no good at fencing."
"So you're really not a duelist, then?" the bride teased.
"Definitely not. Although I'm a fairly decent shot, and I've been told I have a mean right hook."
"Do you play anything else besides the piano?"
"I can play some string instruments – the cello and the violin. But the piano is my passion."
"Can you sing at all?" Marishka asked.
Hera stared back down at the keys of the piano, a sheepish grin curving her lips as her modesty blossomed in her cheeks.
"A little and not very well at all, if you ask me. I'm no pop star or opera singer, though I can certainly appreciate those with the talent."
"I'm sorry, a pop star?" the vampire asked curiously. "What's that?"
Hera suddenly realized what she had said and she laughed.
"Never mind. Let's just say music in the future is very different from the music of today."
"What's it like?" Marishka inquired with genuine interest.
"Well, let's see… we're reaching the end of the nineteenth century which means jazz hasn't become much of a thing yet," she thought aloud, and it was here when an idea popped into her head and her smile became a little mischievous. "So the music you're used to listening to is stuff like this," and she started to play an impromptu melody of Beethoven, Haydn, Bach, Dvořák, and Tchaikovsky. When Marishka nodded, confirming that she recognized the beautiful and very emotive classical music, Hera continued.
"Well, in the next century, we start to get something called jazz," and she began to play a melody of Joplin's "The Entertainer" and a handful of songs made popular by Louis Armstrong – tunes like "All of Me", "Hello, Dolly", "Mack the Knife" and "It's a Wonderful World." In fact, as she played those particular tunes, the memories in Hera's head allowed Marishka the rare opportunity to hear old Satchmo play and sing himself, that iconic trumpet echoing throughout the otherwise empty room.
The bride, though unaccustomed to the sound, appeared to like what she heard and Hera even caught her tapping her feet to the rhythm. When Hera finished, Marishka sent her an approving smile.
"It's catchy."
"It is, isn't it? There were naturally offshoots, or subgenres, like the blues, and country music sort of sprouted from that as well. And then there came genres like funk and one of my personal favorites – rock music."
"Rock? You mean like a stone?" Marishka inquired, clearly confused.
Hera had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.
Never could she have imagined having the opportunity to explain the evolution of music to a vampire. Well, then again, she never saw herself living in Castle Dracula or befriending his brides or being perused by the Count himself. Nobody could have foreseen any of this.
"If I remember my musical history correctly, rock music shows up in the late 1940s, early 50s, I think, in America. It used to be better known as 'rock and roll' – the name was kind of a sexual analogy, as the conservatives of the time felt the music with its beat encouraged promiscuity. Although that's really just one theory behind the name."
"What does it sound like?"
Hera thought about it for a moment, trying to decide what song to play on the piano that would best illustrate what she was talking about. When the right tune popped into her head, Marishka watched with interest as the human seated beside her smiled to herself before banging out the King's "That's All Right", and as she played, the sound of Elvis' voice came into the room.
The memory and emotion behind this song appeared particularly strong because the power of Hera's imagination coupled with the magic of the room and the music allowed an almost ghostly manifestation of the singer to appear, guitar in hand, his body swaying to the beat. Marishka noted this and stood up, deeply fascinated not only by the music, but also by the man's clothes, his hair, his voice, and even his gyrating hips.
"I like this one!" the bride exclaimed, looking back at Hera, who had started to play another tune of the King's – "Burning Love."
As the imaginary Elvis Presley serenaded the thoroughly entertained Marishka, Hera watched on, amused by the bride's enthusiasm, but also kind of moved in a way. Never in her life could she have imagined that she'd have the chance to accompany the likes of Elvis Presley – even if he had been conjured up through her imagination and that unexplainable power that coursed through the room.
For the first time in days, she allowed herself to let loose a little, her fingers flying over the keys with great skill and precision and the more passion that poured from her finger tips, the more vibrant the room seemed to become, as the apparition of Elvis was soon joined by an entire band.
Unbeknownst to Hera who had lost herself to the music and the joy that was now radiating from her being, a specific set of ears picked up on the peculiar music. Dracula had been in his office, pouring over a set of notes that Doctor Frankenstein had left behind, but his attention to the nearly indecipherable scribbles came to a grinding halt when the sound of drums, guitar, and Hera pounding away on the piano reached his ears – and the sound of some unknown man singing?
Dracula stood from his desk slowly as he reached out with his mind for Hera and he noticed that she and Marishka were in the enchanted ballroom. Curiosity got the better of him and he quietly slipped out of his study and made his way over to that part of the house. What he found was what looked like a party unlike anything he had ever seen before in his four-hundred years of experience.
There was a dark-haired man with a guitar in his hands, his hips swaying in a way that was almost vulgar, a highly energized band accompanying him. Marishka appeared to be dancing in front of the musicians and Hera was seated at the piano, rocking out over the keys. He couldn't recall a time he had seen her so energetic and unwilling to break the spell, he slipped into the shadows of the room so he could investigate further.
When the song was over, Marishka clapped her hands excitedly in Hera's direction, a brilliant smile on her face.
"That was fantastic!" the bride exclaimed. "I like this music – it's kind of addictive," and she started to snap her fingers to the beat as she made her way back over to the piano, humming. "Is all the music from your time like this?"
"No – music evolves a great deal in the future, especially the rock genre. Next thing you know, you're getting subgenres like glam rock, metal, punk, gothic, power metal, symphonic metal, grunge, indie, black metal, hip-hop, R&B… the possibilities are virtually endless. Especially as the technologies advance."
"That sounds so exhausting," Marishka replied, leaning against the piano. "I don't know how you keep up with all of that."
Hera chuckled, running her fingers mindlessly over the keys, playing whatever popped into her head, just grateful to have the feeling of the cool and slick ivory underneath her fingertips once more. It was like being home.
"It does seem a bit overwhelming, doesn't it? Having so many options – but people's tastes are so different and so diverse and music speaks to everyone in such unusual ways. In my time, it's like there's a genre for everyone," and as Hera continued to play, that mist from before began to flood the floor again, the room painted in soft hues that illustrated her present sense of serenity.
"Music is like water, like the air we breathe, and the blood that runs through our veins. It's one of the few things that keeps humanity united – we can't live without it."
All Marishka was able to utter was a sound of profound amazement as she visibly struggled to comprehend the idea of those different forms of music, when she had been so certain until just a few moments ago that the classics from the masters and the occasional folk was all she'd ever need.
The bride listened to Hera play for a little while, enjoying the music that resonated in the belly of the piano, a comfortable silence lingering between the two of them as Marishka digested Hera's miniature music history lesson.
"Are there any undying songs in your time? Songs that you think will last through the centuries?"
Hera mulled that over for a moment as she ceased her playing, her hands resting in her lap as she thought it over.
"I'm not sure – timelessness is such a subjective concept. But I suppose there are some songs that are covered repeatedly, or completely made-over."
"Do you have any favorites?" Marishka asked, clearly eager for more.
Hera thought about it and then she noticed the twinkling of the beautiful yellow diamonds in the bride's necklace and earrings and it gave her an idea. There was something about Marishka, something about her face – or maybe it was her hair or the look in her eyes. But the most perfect song popped into Hera's head and once it was there, she couldn't seem to get it out and the most impish grin curved her lips, a sly glint in her eyes.
"Actually, there's one I've always been rather fond of," the mortal confessed and she started to play a set of chords, repeating them so it sounded like a march as she introduced the song. "There's this woman in the twentieth century – a beautiful blonde who turns the world upside down and there's one particular song of hers I've always liked."
"Who was she?"
"Marilyn Monroe," Hera explained, motioning with her eyes to the swirling mist behind Marishka. The bride turned to see the mist building and billowing until it started to take the shape of a curvaceous woman with short blonde hair, an exquisite pink gown, and the most stunning jewels the vampire had ever seen.
"She's beautiful," the bride said with a sigh of envy.
"She is, isn't she?" Hera agreed.
"What song does she sing?"
Hera smirked and started to sing quietly to herself while the illusion of Marilyn's voice, accompanied by a full orchestra, overshadowed the human.
But Dracula could hear her and there was something foreign, devious, and exciting in the mortal's voice that he had never witnessed before. Though the striking apparition was quite the thing to behold, it was Hera he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of. She had a delightful fire in her expression as her imagination coupled with the magic of the room started to manipulate the mist as numerous young men dressed in black formal wear started to dance around the imaginary Marilyn.
"The French are glad to die for love… They delight in fight duels. But I prefer a man who lives, and gives expensive jewels."
Hera looked up from the piano to see the famous scene from "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" had taken over the ballroom and Marishka watched in breathless wonder as one of the most famous females of the twentieth century performed one of Hera's favorite songs – almost 65 years before it would ever be released. The woman played and sang along, bopping her head to the music as she remained blissfully unaware that Dracula was taking in her every movement.
It was after the first verse that the atmosphere began to change and both Marishka and the Count noted it immediately as the visions of Marilyn melted away and a heavy drum began to beat somewhere in the mist.
"What's this?" the bride inquired.
"Forty-eight years after this version of the song was released, it gets redone – updated, modernized…"
The drum began to beat louder and harder, pounding out a rhythm that was very foreign to the vampires, soon accompanied by the blaring of a trumpet. The scene had changed from a plain red backdrop to a lavish set of something Marishka couldn't have even begun to fathom – a gentlemen's nightclub for the elite, set in the backdrop of Paris. The Moulin Rouge.
From the recesses of Hera's overactive imagination came an entirely different world – a world of light, luxury, music, and vice unlike anything either Marishka or Dracula had experienced before. There were men, hundreds of them everywhere, dressed in expensive tuxedos and top hats, women donning provocative costumes and gowns, others in hardly anything at all.
And though still seated at the piano, Hera was in the center of it all, suddenly dressed in a silvery black, diamond studded corseted bodice, black nylons clipped with garters. The outfit was completed with a pair of black satin gloves and a velvety top hat, the mortal's luxurious mass of hair cascading down her partially exposed back and over her bare shoulders in rich, luscious curls.
Marishka had never seen this side of Hera before… and neither had the Count, who remained hidden in the shadows, watching the woman's imagination come to life.
The mortal had stood up from her seat at the bench, her fingers masterfully dancing over the keys as she bounced her head to the music, surrounded by dozens of imaginary gentlemen who were enraptured as she played. She was smiling flirtatiously at them, brazenly shaking her hips, a fire in her eyes and in her voice as she shouted out the various diamond companies – Tiffany's, Cartier, Black Starr, and Frost Gorham – all the while the brass section from the orchestra blared in accompaniment.
She then straightened up from the piano and pointed over at the vampire bride, face positively radiant.
"Talk to me, Marishka! Tell me all about it!" Hera shouted and she made her way over to the woman and grabbed her hand as she continued to sing the rest of the song.
Dracula looked on, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle.
He loved the expression in Hera's eyes, her liveliness and playfulness as she climbed up onto the lid of the piano and danced about provocatively as if she were the star of some illicit show. He silently moved farther into the room, blending in with the other gentlemen, observing the woman with increasing interest – and a hunger that only continued to grow.
In that moment, he would have killed a hundred men to have her look at him in the way she was looking at the figments of her imagination.
Dracula couldn't quite understand why he wanted her attention so badly, but he did. He craved it. Even when Hera was teasing the imaginary men, smacking her lips together to make a kissing sound before strutting away as if they were nothing – Dracula wanted that. He wanted her to hold him in her grasp, to tease him just as he constantly teased her. The Count yearned for the playful banter, the fight for dominance, and the longer he looked on, the more voracious he became.
Marishka and Hera sang the song at the top of their lungs, thoroughly enjoying themselves as they danced about, soaking in the attention of the amorous make-believe crowd and as the song began to near its end, that's when Dracula decided to move in closer to them – not because he desired to reveal himself, but because he could do nothing else.
He was like a helpless piece of graphite, and Hera was the magnet.
As he neared the piano, the spell slowly began to break, though Hera was blissfully unaware as she belted out the last part:
"'Cause that's when those louses go back to their spouses! Diamonds… are a… girl's… best…"
Hera made a move to jump off the piano and into the sea of men with waiting hands, all eager to catch her, but the world seemed to be moving in slow motion as she realized the spell was rapidly breaking and instead of a mob of attractive, well-dressed suitors, she flew straight into the waiting arms of the one man she had not expected to be there.
The instant her eyes met Dracula's, the illusion vanished and as Marishka finished off the song with a loud and belted "friend", Hera landed in the Count's arms.
Still dressed in her Moulin Rouge-esque inspired outfit, Hera was paralyzed with shock as Dracula held her in his arms, the smirk on his face unrepentant.
"Why Miss Garret, you're so forward," he teased.
That seemed to snap her back into reality.
Hera shrieked, pushing herself out of Dracula's hold and backing away in mortification, making sure the piano stood between the two of them. The Count threw back his head and laughed heartily at her surprise as Marishka turned around to see that the vision was no more and they were back in the otherwise empty ballroom.
"Hera, what's the matter?" she asked curiously. "It's just the master."
Hera almost tripped over the bench of the piano in her attempt to get away from him and those flaming eyes that left her skin to burn.
Why was she still in this outfit?! Why wasn't she back in her regular clothes?! Everything else had returned to normal, why not her clothes too?
Her panicked mind came to a screeching halt when the look the Count gave her told her everything she needed to know.
Hera stared between the two vampires, practically hyperventilating as she tried to regain her composure, still in shock that Dracula was actually still standing there while she was dressed like this! THIS! Of all things!
At last, she looked over at Marishka, a reproachful expression in her eyes.
"You knew this would happen!" she shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at the bride. "How could you do that to me? How could you distract me like that? You knew this would leave my mind open and unguarded! How could you Marishka? I trusted you!"
"I had no idea he was watching, honest!" she insisted with the utmost sincerity and though Hera knew she meant it, she was too furious to let it go.
"She's telling the truth, Miss Garret. Marishka had nothing to do with this. I just happened to hear the two of you and came to see what was going on. I'll be honest though, I wasn't expecting a show," and he folded his arms under his chest, openly examining her with wolfish eyes. "I like the outfit… you should wear it more often."
Hera's glare was lethal, and with her embarrassment came a flood of the most obscene Romanian Dracula had heard – ever.
She swore violently at him, her accent and inflections flawless, each word articulated for maximum effect as she insulted not just him, but his ancestry and even his country. Dracula was not taken aback by her childish outburst – if anything, it relieved him on some level, entertained him even. He did his best to remain civil and unmoved as she unleashed a good number of weeks' worth of anger on him. But it was when she brought up the Turks and a slew of other foul obscenities, a nerve was struck and his smile turned into a scowl.
The Turks had always been a sore subject for him.
But she wasn't done yet. Words that he had never heard even the vilest of women utter were soon effortlessly rolling off of Hera's tongue and when she unexpectedly moved toward him, enraged and humiliated and ready to tear his face off with her bare hands, he pushed her back against the piano, towering over her.
"That is quite enough!" he bellowed, his raised voice silencing Hera and causing Marishka to jump a little in surprise.
Hera, although in any other circumstance would be petrified at the thought of evoking his wrath, in this instance, she refused to be afraid of him. Her fury forbade such rationality. She glared boldly into his eyes, daring him to do his worst. He had already done it before.
Fortunately for her, this defiance of hers was something he still found relatively amusing, and the fact that their proximity had only increased reminded him of how fetching she looked in the outfit he was willing her to stay in.
Yes, that was his doing.
"Marishka, our guest and I need to have a little chat. Could you give us a moment alone?"
"Master-" the vampire began in Hera's defense, but the Count looked over at his bride, offering her somewhat of a reassuring smile.
"I give you my word, I will not harm her," he said, and she nodded, satisfied, obediently making her way towards the doors as the Count turned to look back at Hera. "…much," he finished for only Hera to hear and the two continued to stare at one another as Marishka sealed the two of them inside the room.
When the Count was certain all were out of hearing distance, his irises flamed a wild blue, an expression of which the mortal had never before seen. His lust was amazing and frightening to behold, but he had been right when he had accused her of enjoying his more carnal attentions to her. She knew she should have hated him for it, but there was a darkness in her that was getting harder to deny, a selfishness that thrilled at the thought of being desired by this man. She tried to fight it, tried to forbid herself to feel such things, but she couldn't help it. His countenance made her heart skip and her insides turned to liquid. Oh how she prayed he couldn't tell what his gaze was doing to her.
Hera swallowed bravely and managed to speak up.
"Much?" she questioned, giving him the best conspicuous look she could muster, despite the agonizing pulsations between her legs. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You're smart, Miss Garret," he replied, his face inching towards hers just slightly as he continued to stare into her eyes. Her attention diverted towards his nearing lips before going back to his eyes again. "Figure it out for yourself," came the lustful growl as he brought her closer to his person, snaking an arm around her waist.
His willpower twisted and played with her mind, forcing her body to feel the urges she was frantically trying to suppress, painting her mind scarlet with erotic scenes bleeding from the pages of the most graphic of romance novels.
"Why am I still in this outfit?" she managed to ask, their proximity heightening the ache that was already naturally inside of her.
"You look ravishing, spitfire," he purred, his lips teasing her, always threatening to move in for a kiss, but never quite getting close enough. "I enjoy looking at you," then came the confession he had not intended on giving her, and the look in her eyes reminded him of that.
"Really?" she asked, staring avidly at his mouth, absently moistening her lips. Her breath was hot and heavy as her heart continued to race, something in the back of her mind fully aware of the web he was tangling her in… she should have cared, but she didn't.
"Oh yes," he whispered, his voice a dark husk. "You've been avoiding me, Miss Garret. Are you really so angry with me?"
"Not as much as I was initially," she breathed, voice hitching when he wrapped her arm around his neck before smoothing his palm down and along her side. "I just wanted to make you suffer."
His chest vibrated in a rich chuckle as he leaned in a little closer.
"You naughty woman."
And then he was kissing her.
And God forgive her, she loved it.
Wanted it—and more.
All rational thought screamed at her, telling her that he was toying with her mind again, and she knew it was true. But a part of her didn't care.
His kisses seemed to erase all cares from her mind, and when he used his tongue, she went hot right down to her toes. Every coherent thought, every sensible argument that this was a bad idea, fled her mind.
The only thing that remained was the sensation, the way he made her feel: wanted beyond all reason.
There was more than just lust behind this onslaught; she could taste it. It was heady, and it was too powerful to resist. This man, this terrible, glorious, alarmingly powerful man made her feel wanted.
And she wanted him.
Had from the moment she set eyes on him… maybe even before, she was unsure.
But all sanity left her as she held him back, allowing him to plunder her mouth without protest.
She went to twist her arms around his neck, to bring him closer to her, but he grabbed her wrists and held them steadfast, not permitting her to touch him. Although the action took her by surprise, she still opened to him, kissing him with as much passion as she could muster, and with as much hunger as he was kissing her.
God, it was so good. So unbelievably good.
Dracula pushed her back against the piano and urging her to lean against it, her head tilted up and back as if she were drinking deep and his tongue dove in for more of her filling taste. There was something about her as he kissed her, something changing inside of him—his incentives, his motives. What had started out as a game was turning into a dangerous and bewildering desire to please someone other than himself.
He was so savage, so aggressive, so intense… and Hera melted beneath the man that he was with his powerful hands holding her weak and pitiful wrists, forbidding her to touch him the way she wanted to.
Why was he doing this?
Was he toying with her?
Did he mean any of it?
Her mind was awash in conflict and Dracula could sense it.
He hated her confusion, hated the silent drone she had been for the past few weeks. He didn't want to apologize for what he had done, because truth be told, he wasn't entirely sorry . But he didn't want her to hate him anymore. He wanted the fiery, defiant, intelligent Hera back, the one who was turning to liquid in his arms.
Her body was young; he could feel it as he pressed her harder to him. Her breasts were slightly firm and perky smashed against his chest. They had barely been touched or fondled from what he could sense. His hands itched to change that, but he resisted, knowing that he couldn't move too fast.
So to keep him sane, he sated himself by continuing to kiss her. He even nibbled her jaw every now and then, forcing her head farther back till her chin pointed to the sky and the most beautiful whimpers vibrated in her throat and escaped her pulsating lips.
"Are you still mad at me?" he breathed, asking her subconscious, not the defiant mortal who'd certainly lie to him.
"Not really," came her repeated response from earlier.
"Not really?" he clarified teasingly before kissing her again. "Hera, either you are, or you're not. Which is it?"
Hera suddenly licked the length of his throat before biting his jaw in return, her hips moving slowly against him. He knew he should stop her, to regain his slipping control of the situation, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to see what she would do.
"I don't know," was her dreamy reply and Dracula sighed heavily. "I can feel you in my mind. I don't want you there... but I do."
Well, she wasn't mad at him, at least not right now… but everything wasn't perfect between them either.
He'd have to fix that.
Later.
Slowly and with great care, Dracula began to release Hera's will while cautiously ceasing his kisses and backing away from her slowly, despite the pleas her eyes sent him.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
But he did stop, and when it was done, Hera was in her normal clothes again with a blank expression on her face.
It took a moment for everything to register and Dracula almost took her silence as a good sign, that is, until she slapped him hard across the face. The action was so unexpected, he didn't even have time to stop it.
Her hand collided with his cheek with a deafening smack – and it actually hurt.
Hera wasn't sorry she did it and Dracula quietly acknowledged that he had it coming, so he remained composed and didn't react. But when she tried a second time to strike him again, he stopped her.
"Don't push it, Miss Garret," he warned her gently, but she only glared at him.
"Don't push it? Don't push it!?" she shouted at him. "How DARE you!"
Dracula stood like an immovable wall as Hera attempted to shove him away, but it was useless. Her strength could never even dream of surpassing his. Not by a long shot.
"You know, if you wanted me to open up to you so bad, you're doing one hell of a job of pushing me in the complete OPPOSITE direction, you fucking bastard!"
His eyes narrowed.
"Watch your tongue, Miss Garret. Or else."
"Or else what? You'll bite it off?!" she tested, kicking his shin like some kind of indignant child until he finally stepped out of her way.
With a huff, she was soon stalking off towards the door, thinking of every curse word in her vocabulary until his voice reached her ears.
"Your language, woman," he advised her, turning to look back at her, meeting her venomous gaze. "I can still hear you."
Stay out of my fucking head and you won't have to listen to it! she screamed into his mind by thinking it. He turned fully to face her, his glare matching hers.
Seeing as how our minds are bound by our blood, I frankly don't have too much of a choice, he shot back.
She grabbed hold of the door and threw it open before pointing a treacherous finger at him.
"I am going to make you regret ever connecting our minds, Count Dracula! Mark my words. I will make you regret it!" she shouted at him now, her voice echoing throughout the entire room.
"Consider them marked," he snapped back, watching as she let out a growl of frustration before slamming the door behind her, marching away.
As soon as she was gone, he broke character and exhaled loudly before touching the cheek she had slapped.
It still stung.
That kiss, though. That positively sinful kiss still pulsated on his lips. Her mouth-watering taste still lingered in his mouth. And the devil forgive him, he wanted to taste more of her.
He shouldn't have done that, he thought to himself, rubbing the sting out of his cheek. But then again, at least he had gotten fiery Hera to make an appearance, and he hoped he'd be able to see more of her in the days to come.
Some answers to your questions... (because I haven't answered them in a while)
Are there going to be any lemons in this story? If so, when? I get this question A LOT, and though I've reached out to a number of you individually to answer it, I figured after what just happened above, I might as well answer it for all of you right now. In case you didn't read my chapter 1 A/Ns, this story IS rated M for sexual content (that's the first thing I listed off). Yes, I may have toned down a lot of the smuttier bits in this story, but as I've mentioned before, it was for a purpose. I needed to keep Hera and ESPECIALLY Dracula (who in the original can't keep his hands - or fingers - to himself) in character. I also needed to better nurture the sexual tension between them, which meant more teasing, less actual touching. But for those of you that are here just for a lemon - first off, I think you're reading the wrong story ;) and secondly, without spoiling this for my non-veterans, the first full-blown, old-fashioned sex scene/chapter (and yes, there's more than one) will get posted at the end of the month. So it's coming (pun intended), just... be patient and enjoy the foreplay? I don't know... just... keep your pants on :P
Did you intend to draw paralells between your story and the happenings in Beauty and the Beast? Actually, no. That was totally accidental/subconsciously done, but that IS my favorite Disney movie and one of my top 3 favorite fairytales and I've always been a sucker for stories with relationships that start off rocky and end up legendary because the persons involved over-come great obstacles (including their own flaws and characters) and put in a great deal of work/effort to be together.
From jenny: Is Van Helsing going to join in on the competition for Hera? Van Helsing does make an appearance later on in the story (as a great deal of the events here will coincide with the movie), but whether or not he joins in on the competition for Hera's heart... well, in the words of River Song: SPOILERS! ;) Are you still going to kill Velkan? 95% of the events in the film happen on or off-screen in this story. I can tell you that there are two characters that died in the film that won't die in this story, but as to who, again - SPOILERS! ;) But we haven't seen the last of Velkan. He still has a bit of a role to play.
From alexc1209: Is Jane the housekeeper human? Jane is a vampire. She's been working for Count Dracula for a very, very long time!
From ForeverACharmedOne: (in reference to chapter 16) Do you fence or did you do research? My dad used to fence in college, so some of that wisdom was imparted on me as a kid. But most of the content in that chapter was just thoroughly researched. And it gave me an excuse to rewatch The Princess Bride.
If you have anymore questions, feel free to send them my way! Thank you again for reading and I'll see you all Monday for the next chapter!