This chapter... oh this chapter.
Wanted to send out a very heart-felt thank you to those that reviewed over the weekend: Scarlet Empress, the invisible reader, bloodyrose2014, She-Devil Red, Bloodsired, 12345678910, Lunaconspiracy365, jenny, ForeverACharmedOne, ShadowSpade, niccalexandra51, Liz David, and DreamBubbles. You guys are utterly amazing and I thoroughly enjoyed reading all of your comments! It was so nice to hear from all of you and I'm so happy you enjoyed the chapters as much as you did!
But I would be amiss if I neglected to send out an EXTRA thank you to those who reviewed both chapters 19 AND 20 - Scarlet Empress, the invisible reader, She-Devil Red, Bloodsired, ForeverACharmedOne, Liz David, and DreamBubbles. I absolutely ADORE you guys for the chapter-specific feedback and can't thank you enough for taking the time to do that!
You reviewers (and you readers as well) are the greatest and I feel so privileged to have your continued support and approval. *hugs*
DISCLAIMER: bit-o-lemon flavored shenanigans at the end. You'll see...
XXI
Hera's Revenge
When Hera had stormed out of the room that evening, she had immediately retreated to her bedroom, only to slam the door as hard as she possibly could before locking it, throwing herself dramatically onto the bed, and screaming into a pillow.
When her moment of madness was over, two specific thoughts entered her mind.
The first was how utterly irate she was with Dracula, not to mention how completely humiliated she felt.
The second, and more lasting impression was what in God's name had she gotten herself into, threatening him like that?
Hera didn't even know how she was going to get even with him for toying with her as he had. She admitted for just a brief moment how utterly incredible that kiss had been, though. It was the best she had ever had, hands down, no competition. Not even Velkan had been able to elicit such reckless passion in her.
Never before had she felt so wanted, so desired, and so on fire – even if he didn't truly mean it, even if he was just messing with her, manipulating her. But the mere recollection made a warm heat pool in her belly and her cheeks flushed.
Before she could linger on the memory for too long, however, she quickly remembered that the Count could be reading her mind without her knowing, so she cursed his name, blocked the pleasurable memory out, and focused all of her attention on how to get even with him.
Needless to say, nothing ever really came to mind.
How does one get "even" with a four-century-old vampire who also happens to have unrestrained access to one's thoughts?
Hera would have to do something relatively harmless, something that wouldn't earn any kind of major punishment or repercussion. But it had to be effective.
Satisfying.
Something that would infuriate him to no end.
She wanted to make him to seethe, to make his blood boil...to make him thoroughly regret that he had ever bonded them in the first place.
Yes, messing about with the Count's temper, having that kind of influence over him—it was a power trip. A dangerous one, but one of the few she had, and the thought of giving him a taste of his own medicine was something Hera could not resist.
The young woman had never imagined herself as the purposefully confrontational type, but when it came to getting the Count mad, she fit the bill flawlessly. She wanted to make him react, wanted to see how far she could push him, just as he pushed her; and for the present moment, it was all she had against him.
Hera didn't speak so much as a word to the Count for the next two days. In fact, she completely ignored him, acting as if he wasn't even in the room, despite how hard he tried to converse with her. She'd even give him the brush-off if his brides were present, content with talking to them, but if Dracula tried to participate in the conversation, she acted as if he hadn't even spoken.
Her behavior naturally displeased him and it didn't take long for the man to storm out of the room with a huff defeat, much to Hera's pleasure, even if a small part of her felt guilty for being so quarrelsome and rude. That's why on the third day, she lightened up a bit. She never apologized for how she had acted. Her pride forbade it and Dracula was very much the same. It was almost comical how alike they were, but if anyone had noticed, no one uttered a word.
On a particular Thursday evening, the two were in the Count's library, not really saying much of anything.
Hera had an Alexandre Dumas novel in hand as she lounged casually back on the sofa, silently reading while Dracula sat at a desk doing God knew what. Naturally, the woman didn't care, but the silence permitted her the opportunity to privately observe him for a moment or two, seemingly undetected.
Hera stealthily moved the book away from her face and allowed her eyes to slowly rise up to look over at Count Dracula, situated in a comfortable high-backed chair, pouring over some unknown documents. She never knew what he was working on when he spent those long hours in his office or at a desk in the library, but whenever she crossed his path during those few instances, he always had this look about him, something in his expression and air that he hadn't possessed when she first met him.
In truth, Hera hadn't really noticed the subtle change in him until she had started staying in his house.
His eyes, things Hera found entertaining to create metaphors for, were perceptive and focused, as if nothing could escape his notice. A strange but rather cute crease would appear in his brow whenever he read something, as if he had to concentrate when translating different languages silently to himself.
The beautiful liquid eventide of his hair was always pulled back, with those defiant strands hanging loosely in his face, making him appear to be more… enticing was the word she often seemed to choose. He was like a forbidden fruit, candy for the eyes, and always in black. It was the same outfit every evening – or at the very least, a variation on a theme – but the cut complimented him extremely well.
Her eyes then fell to his mouth and the memory of their last kiss brought pleasurable knots to twist in her womb. His lips had to be the most beautiful part of him she had seen thus far. They were on the thin side, but soft, gently parted as he breathed in the useless oxygen only to exhale slowly. She watched from a distance as the tip of his tongue crept out just slightly to moisten his lips and Hera swallowed hard.
God his mouth is so fucking beautiful she thought to herself, groaning internally as memories of what that mouth could do to her now in the forefront of her mind.
Even though he had to control her mind in order to get her submit, she enjoyed it. She'd deny it every time if he asked her, but she enjoyed it. Hera could distinctly remember how his lips felt pressed against hers, how he drove into her mouth with such wanton abandon, how he kissed her as if she were the one thing keeping him alive.
Hera's attention eventually returned back to her book, her eyes scanning over the words but not reading any of them, her mind too agreeably engaged elsewhere.
Oh, how she wanted him to kiss her again, and she replayed the incident in her mind once more, never noticing the sly grin that curved the Count's face as he continued with his work, never looking up at her.
"You seem to have a remarkable memory, Miss Garret," he commented, pulling her from her detailed reverie as she looked back at him, his eyes still having not met her own. "And I'm flattered you think my mouth is… so fucking beautiful, as you put it, although I wish you wouldn't use such derogatory language to describe me. Simply 'beautiful' will suffice."
Hera's whimsical impression of the vampire suddenly turned for the worst as she practically screamed at him.
"Oh my GOD, stay out of my head!" but to this, he only laughed, pleased with her reaction.
"And why would I do that, my little spitfire? It's such an interesting place," he said, finally glancing up at her, that conniving grin of his never fading. She wanted nothing more than to smack it right off his face. "You admit things there that you never would openly."
Hera sat up and threw her book at him, but despite her usually good aim, it fell short, landing on his desk amidst the sea of papers. Her outburst, though a little immature for his taste, did not disturb him.
"There's no need to get angry, Miss Garret," he said with great apathy, momentarily glancing at the book she had thrown at him before moving it off his notes and papers, all with very little interest.
"I would give anything for you to be a piñata right now so I could beat the ever living hell out of you," she declared, having nothing more to throw at him except her insults. "I can't fathom how anyone could possibly stand living with you."
To this, he only smiled and with a snap of his fingers the book opened. He picked it up with one hand, holding it out for her to retrieve, his eyes still on the work in front of him, not once having diverted up to meet her own incensed gaze.
"I believe you were on page a hundred and sixteen. Edmond Dantés found the treasure in the cave and had decided to become a Count?"
Hera moved over to Dracula's desk, albeit begrudgingly, and grabbed The Count of Monte Cristo from the vampire's grasp, sending him a thoroughly disgusted look.
"Even when I'm reading, you're thumbing through my thoughts. Don't you have anything better to do?" and she snatched the book from him, moving back to the sofa to sit.
For the brief time her back was towards him, he glanced up from his work and just stared as she walked. Delicious sexual fantasies of throwing her over the desk and taking her from behind danced in his mind as a wicked grin curved his lips, the idea of driving into her, the feeling of her skin against his, listening to her gasp and moan at how bold he could be...
"Oh yes," he said in hushed tones, feeling so remarkably filthy, it was astounding. "Much better things to do," and he let his eyes follow her as she plopped back down on the sofa before lying down, one leg bent up on the cushions, the other hanging lazily off to the side, her boot clad foot resting on the floor as she started to read again.
What a perfect position for her to be lying in he mused, wondering what it would be like to lay on top of her, in between those strong thighs after taking the novel from her hands, tossing it behind him carelessly before ravishing her.
The fantasy grew darker and far more detailed than it probably needed to be, but it sent a violent and delicious shiver through him – until he felt her looking back at him. In an effort to avoid any further suspicion, he casually diverted his attention back down to his work.
Within moments, the two were back to their mutual silence: Hera reading her book as the Count absently listened to her thoughts while he continued his work at the desk, doing his best to block out the immoral day-dreams of making violent love to the mortal on his sofa. But that sexually-charged silence only lasted for so long as Aleera suddenly entered the room in an uproar, Verona following close behind.
"Master!" Aleera whined. "Verona called me a whining, two-faced minx and said that I can't do anything right!"
Hera rolled her eyes.
That's the most accurate description I've ever heard, she thought to herself. I wonder if they hand out awards for that kind of thing?
Dracula caught what she had thought and snorted quietly, having to hold back his laughter while Aleera and Verona both came rushing toward him.
"Well, it's true!" Verona insisted, pointing an accusing finger at the redheaded bride. "You had asked us to go check on Igor at Castle Frankenstein to see if he had recovered anything more from the fire in the laboratory and Aleera decides to go create mischief in the village and the Valerious brats almost discovered our secrets concerning the progeny! She nearly got us all killed!"
What else is new? Hera thought to herself once more and she noticed the almost-grin on the Count's face as he tried to soothe and console his two brides.
He was listening to her thoughts again.
"Bastard," she said under her breath before returning to her book, doing her best to block out the rather irritating confrontation.
That is, until an idea so delicious and so foul entered her mind as she looked over at the three vampires, soon to be four as Marishka entered the room, her presence only adding to the commotion as she announced that the werewolves had gotten out again and were roaming free across the countryside.
Hera sat up, the novel still in front of her face, but just low enough to where she could see the four vampires in front of her, arguing heatedly. The wickedest of grins curved the mortal's lips as she stood up from her seat, quietly moving toward the main staircase of the library to put the book away.
"I think I'm going to have a bit of fun," she mused to herself, deciding to listen in on the conversation.
"Marishka, I thought I told you to tell Igor that the wolves were getting restless!" Dracula exclaimed, evidently frustrated with the news.
"I did, but he doesn't listen to me!" she insisted. "I swear, nobody takes me seriously around here."
Which only makes sense, as I'm having a secret affair with the imp that nobody seems to understand, Hera narrated in her mind, noticing the confused expression in the Count's eyes as he looked up at her. She just grinned darkly at him, watching as he shook off her comment and tried to concentrate on his brides again.
"Well, you go down there and tell him that if I have to go and round them up myself again, that he will feel the repercussions of it ten-fold," he answered, tone fierce.
"Master!" Aleera griped, interrupting the Count as he spoke to Marishka.
"What is it now?!" he snapped at her, unable to listen to all three of them at once.
But it was about to get worse.
So much worse.
"Do you think I'm worthless?"
It took everything in him to keep from rolling his eyes.
"No, my dear. You are not worthless."
I think you're a pitiful waste of time though, Hera ad-libbed once more. God, all that whining… you even whine when I'm not performing well enough for you. It's not my fault I can't last longer than three minutes.
Dracula's eyes snapped immediately to Hera's direction, but before he could confront her on the unrepentant insult, his brides started to complain again and Hera only continued to throw in her own dialogue.
You haven't bedded me in over three months! Hera thought for Aleera. And last time Verona wanted some too and I had to share! I hate sharing with her!
Well you're going to have to get used to it, because she was the first and I like her more than you, Hera spoke for Dracula, even mocking his accent in her mind.
But I have bigger boobs! She has the body of a freaking prepubescent boy!
But she's a lot less of a whiner than you. And out of the three of you, she probably has the most sense. I love a woman with brains.
Dracula was having a difficult time listening to his three brides and blocking out Hera's commentary. Although the trio of female vampires hadn't noticed his struggle, Hera had, and she openly relished in it.
"Master, when will we start work on the progeny again?" Verona asked him with an elegant degree of fortitude.
"I don't know," he answered, figuring it would be best to block out the other two and focus on one woman at a time. But Hera refused to make it that easy for him.
I don't know darling because I keep getting distracted with the sexy mortal living in my house, she narrated for the Count. She's so beautiful, I can't seem to keep myself out of her mind. Instead of earning her trust and her affection like a respectable gentleman, I take what I want like a selfish pig. I wish she'd let me skip the pleasantries so we could just fuck and get over this sexual tension that I've insisted on nurturing.
Oh master, that's so hot, Hera then added in for Verona. I wish you paid attention to your wives half as much as you pay attention to some human you barely know. You're such a wonderful husband and your inability to stay faithful to us – the most gorgeous women in the world – it makes me wet.
"Hera-" Dracula called in a warning tone, looking up at her on the second floor.
She just flashed him a devious smile.
Yes? she purred into his mind.
"Master! Aren't you listening to me?!" Aleera practically shouted at him as she stamped her foot, on the verge of tears.
"Yes Aleera, I'm listening," he reassured the best he could as she tugged his arm.
I'm listening to your sad, sad story. Wait a second and I'll break out my violin. Darling, go grab your soapbox, will you? Hera started up again.
She noticed how the Count rolled his eyes and Aleera took immediate offense.
"Master!"
"I'm not rolling my eyes at you, Aleera!" he said behind gritted teeth, starting to lose control over the situation.
That was certainly a feeling he wasn't fond of.
"Master, I'm not feeling appreciated! Nobody notices anything I do around here!" Aleera continued once more. "I may be the youngest, but I'm over a century old. I'm not a child and I demand to be treated with the respect I deserve!"
I want you to have sex with me, Hera mocked in Aleera's voice. I want you to ravish me like there's no tomorrow.
I would, but your sisters would be jealous.
To hell with them. I have to wear pink and they don't.
I know darling, but it's for the best. I like the Barbie look on you.
Really?
Truly.
Oh Master!
Aleera!
Hera nearly broke character and almost started laughing as she finally put the book away, missing the frustrated and appalled look on Dracula's face as his brides continued to bombard him with their complaints and concerns.
Soon Marishka was the dominant voice in the room as she tugged on the Count's other arm, urging him to pay attention to her. Hera was having a field-day with this, and poor Dracula could do nothing but listen to all of it, unable to block Hera out and too distracted with everything else that was going on around him.
It was the perfect revenge.
Master, I want a pony, Hera mocked Marishka in her mind.
Marishka, you don't need one.
But I want one! And I want to go to Visceria and make love to Prince Velkan, since you won't sleep with me!
I slept with you last night!
But you kept calling me Verona, and it got really irritating! It's bad enough that Velkan does that to me when he knocks me up! Always calling me Verona…
I'm sorry, but with three brides, how do you expect me to keep track of all your names when I'm in the middle of an orgasm?
Master! I'm the eldest! Why must I share my things with the two of them? Hera now narrated for Verona.
Verona, not you too!
Master, I miss it just being you and me! I don't understand why you can't just throw these two grumblers into the sun and live the rest of eternity with me! Am I not good enough for you? We can be the most unintentionally ironic couple in all the land with our dark hair, pale skin, and gothic sensibilities.
I need variety, Verona. That's why I have Aleera and Marishka too.
I want babies.
We want babies! Wahh! Hera now mocked all three of them, since they were all talking at once about the progeny, asking about when they were going to start work on it again.
God damn it woman! Quit your bitching! I can't procreate any faster! Hera adlibbed for Dracula now, and the poor Count started to feel as though he were on the fringes of madness.
He couldn't take much more of this constant barrage on all sides. It was too much noise, too much chaos. Normally he was able to pull into himself for some semblance of peace, but Hera had taken up every empty space in his brain as she forcefully pushed her every conscious thought onto him.
"Master, we can't complete the task without the monster!" Verona suddenly insisted.
"But we should at least try!" Aleera shouted.
"I agree!" Marishka chimed in.
"What, and let our young die if the experiment fails? Have you no feeling at all?" the eldest bride gasped.
Master why couldn't you have just stuck with me?! came Hera's mockery of the bride once again, her unapologetic teasing relentless.
Because you're flat, that's why! was the mortal's reply for the Count.
Master! I'm insulted! How could you?
And the neck thing is driving me insane! Take the goddamn thing off, for the love of my eyes! I want to scratch them out every time I look at it!
But you picked it out!
I don't care, damn it! Get rid of it!
But Master, our babies!
Oh, shut up! You three are nothing but whores anyway! I can't love! I feel nothing! I. Am. Hollow… and all that shit… and I will live for…
"HERA, ENOUGH!" Dracula shouted, the tail-end of his bark sounding more like a growl.
He was visibly shaking as he struggled to rein himself back in, but his violent outburst had effectively silenced not just his brides, but the mortal on the second floor who had been leaning over the banister, watching the four of them with interest. Now all eyes in the room were on her and the Count's gaze in particular had gone dark with unspeakable rage.
"But she didn't say a word," Verona said, sending her master a strange look that mirrored Marishka and Aleera's.
"Yeah nibs, I didn't say anything," Hera cooed in a sing-song voice.
His glare, if it was even possible, grew darker and his hands balled into tight fists, his knuckles going white.
"You didn't say anything?" he repeated in a tone that informed all the women in the room that he was on the brink of exploding. The temperature in the air dropped dramatically and some of the lights even flickered in response. "YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING?! The entire time you're throwing in your appalling side-comments and vulgar adlibbing dialogue! How do you expect me to concentrate on these three when you're thinking the entire time?!" and the walls shook slightly as the volume of his voice increased.
"I hate to break it to you, your grace, but I happen to think quite often, unlike you. You see, that's the beautiful difference between women and men. We women think too much, whereas you men don't think at all," she answered smartly.
Dracula was ready to strangle her, so completely over her endless defiance.
"Woman, I thoroughly regret creating that bond between us! I really do!" he exclaimed without even thinking about what he was saying.
But Hera's smile reminded him of that as the vehement anger in his eyes abruptly vanished, replaced with recognition and then utter humiliation.
The mortal had bested him.
"And that, my dearest Count, was the whole idea."
And that was the last straw.
"OUT!" he shouted at her, trembling as he pointed toward the door.
When she didn't move, it only incensed him further, his wrath reaching the danger zone. All he needed was one more shove, and Hera would have pushed him to the place where rationality was no longer in existence.
"I will deal with you later!" he snapped.
Hera placed her hands casually behind her back, clearly mocking him as she moved down the stairs in an overly dramatic fashion. Within moments she reached the first floor and she traveled nonchalantly past the four sets of eyes that were watching her expectantly. Grabbing both handles of the library doors, she swung them open and moved out into the hall before turning theatrically to look back at the Count, that mischievous glint still in her eyes.
Her middle finger flew up into the air in front of her as she flipped him off and in flawless Romanian, coupled with an exaggerated accent that clearly made a mockery of his own, she said, "Fuck. You," and then smiled.
Dracula snapped.
For a single instant, he lost control of his temper and in a blind rage he grabbed hold of the desk that was at his side and he sent it flying across the room towards the door with a demonic growl, fangs bared, eyes a pitless black. The desk in question barely missed Marishka by inches and had she not ducked, it would have taken her head clean off.
Hera quickly slammed the doors to the library shut and moved out of the way just as the desk came crashing through, reducing the once beautifully crafted doors, easily worth a small fortune, into nothing but splinters.
The Count's brides retreated nervously backward, holding onto each other as their master clenched and unclenched his fists, desperately struggling to regain his composure and rein his inner-demon back in. But Hera's head peeked into the room through the cloud of dust and she whistled in surprise before tsking at him playfully.
She even had the nerve to continue smiling.
"Somebody needs to control their temper," the mortal teased before stepping over the rubble. Heading down the hall towards the stairs, she began whistle while making her way to her room, offering a chipper "hello" to Jane and one of the other servants who had just come to see what all the commotion was about.
Dracula was seething through gritted teeth when the two servants entered the library, sending their employer concerned and even slightly confused expressions. The vampire felt a tentative hand touch his arm.
"Master?" Verona called soothingly.
He immediately brushed her aside, almost ready to snap at her but she withdrew quickly.
"Get out," he hissed softly, his tone eerily hushed and lethal.
When they didn't move, he pointed toward the gaping hole that used to be the exit, his body visibly rigid.
"I said OUT!"
The three scurried away and the instant they were gone, Dracula let out a roar of untold frustration. He screamed towards the sky, swearing oaths in his native tongue before storming out of the room.
"Clean up this mess," he barked at the handful of servants who had gathered to the library, and then he was marching up the stairs towards Hera's bedroom.
His blood was boiling, his pace fast and murderous while hundreds of curses swam through his head as he neared the entrance of the mortal's private chambers. He could hear her heartbeat from behind the door, very calm and steady. Not even giving it a moment's consideration, he threw open her door.
What he had expected was the woman sitting on her bed or something, jumping in surprise at his sudden presence and then cowering away in fear.
But no. That's not what had happened.
Not at all.
The second he had opened the door, her small, but powerful fist came colliding with his face and the sickening crunch of his shattered nose echoed in his head for a brief moment. Dracula let out an agonizing groan which then melted at the tail-end into an infuriated growl. Although understandably furious that she had hit him, he almost laughed, impressed that she had managed to catch him off guard - clever woman. The Count turned to look at her as his nose healed before her eyes. Hera was cradling her first in her hand, wincing as she made a move to sprint out the door, but he was too fast.
He seized her roughly by the arm, his grip unbreakable as he swung her back into the room while she shouted abuse at him. Despite his superior strength, Hera mindlessly let out weeks of pent up rage on him, furiously kicking him in the shins.
His grip only loosened momentarily, but just enough for her to pull her arm out of his hand and she tried to escape through the open door once more. When he stopped her, her struggle against him was so unexpectedly powerful, it sent the two of them crashing to the floor.
Dracula swiftly kicked the door shut with his foot, the loud slam undoubtedly echoing throughout the entire fortress. He wrestled with her for a time, attempting to pin down the furiously writhing Hera who was still struggling beneath him, punching his chest in an effort to push him off of her. She was surprisingly strong, this one.
"Let go of me!" she ordered, but he ignored her demands.
"Stop… squirming!"
"I said get off!" she shot back. He finally managed to grab hold of her hands and he slammed them to the floor, now trying to get better situated on her body. "You're crushing me!"
"Stop struggling and I won't!"
As Dracula lifted himself up so he could better restrain her, Hera used the opportunity to bend her knee and the sudden movement slammed between his legs in the one place he wished she hadn't hit. He let out a gasp of surprise and then groaned as he doubled over in pain on top of her.
With a grunt and an exertion, she pushed him off of her and tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back, sliding her between his legs before sitting on top of her, straddling her waist and pinning her hands back down onto the floor beside her head.
"That… was uncalled for," he panted, still trying to shake off the throbbing pain in his genitals.
"You deserved it!" she spat. "I finally manage to turn the tables on you and you have to be an ass about it and get all bent out of shape," and she continued to struggle against his powerful hold. He pushed her harder into the floor and perched his face above hers.
"I do not tolerate this kind of behavior from anyone, Miss Garret, do you understand me?"
"Well that's just great, because newsflash! Neither do I," and with a loud growl to get her adrenaline pumping, Hera managed to lift him off of her, pushing him down onto his back, trading places with him on the floor.
She had turned the tables on him once again.
His eyes widened in honest surprise, but the astonishment didn't last long.
"I don't like people walking all over me, Dracula."
"And I don't stand for the disrespect you have been bestowing on me as of late. I have been very generous with you, woman."
"Generous?" she laughed. "Oh, please!"
"Yes, generous! I have clothed you, fed you, provided a place for you to sleep; I allow you free reign over my home, and still you choose to behave like an indignant child."
"I'm a grown woman, you jerk, and I have every right in the world to be treated as such. Helping yourself to my thoughts is inexcusable!"
"Do not raise your voice at me!"
"Or you'll what?" Hera seethed through her gritted teeth, getting in his face as she remained on top of him. "I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be," he growled back.
"Well I'm not, so get used to it!"
"Why are you so determined to hate me?"
"Why do you insist on violating my privacy?"
He flashed her a fake smile.
"Touché madam."
"Oh, you better believe it, buddy," she snapped, unwittingly scooting down along the length of his body when he tried to sit up beneath her, just enough so the notable swell in his pants was now accidentally rubbing between her legs.
Hera was too infuriated with him to even notice the intimate friction, but Dracula felt the contact and his body's instinctual response almost instantly. In fact, his anger quickly melted away as she inadvertently began to grind against him and soon he was only struggling against her simply because he wanted her to move her hips some more.
"I am sick of you walking all over me, using me like I'm some sort of marionette and you're holding my strings. I hate it, Count, do you hear me?" Hera continued, unaware of how ironic that statement was.
"I'm not deaf, spitfire. You don't have to shout," he said gently, trying so hard to stay focused as she continued to unwittingly rub herself against his now very prominent erection.
He had been dreaming about this happening all day!
"But you never listen to me!" she insisted. "I keep telling you to stop, but you don't! You… never…"
Hera's train of thought made an abrupt 180 degree turn, veering into a completely different direction when she realized what her body was doing, and how he was looking at her. She stopped and just stared at him, no comprehensible thoughts in her mind, just the awareness of the lengthy stiffness that was pressing between her legs – and that cognizance made her breath come out in a delicious shudder.
Her eyes met his and a rancorous hunger snatched its lethal grip on the both of them, swooping in to create a maddening tension between the tightly held thighs, vast warmth pooling at Hera's abdomen and spreading down into her womb, despite the internal pleas she made for it to stop.
The feeling was poison, suffocating her anger —slowly killing any malice that she had felt toward the man lying beneath her body. Dracula looked so beautiful below her, gaping at her, and a slight but sudden jerk of his body made her realize how powerful lust could be and it sent her sense of reason spiraling into oblivion as an alarming and unfathomable need for filthy, mindless sex possessed her.
His groin was pressed against hers, and though they were both fully clothed, it caused images to make their peak in her system, mind fleeing from reality to wander into that raging inferno of potent desire, and it made Hera feel powerful. She dared to feed the fire and before she could talk herself out of it, she rubbed herself against him, grinding against his hard and confined length.
The action brought him to moan softly and the sound of his submission sent her reeling on a power trip she never wanted to return from, so she ground a little harder, hardly conscious of what she was doing. All she knew was that the feeling of his hard body between her legs felt forbidden and wonderful, and she was soon submitting pressure into the sexual tension that grew and grew and grew.
He whispered her name, her given name this time, a fluent Romanian accent tickling her senses as she pressed further, harder against him, feeling his hips starting move against hers, neither of them knowing what they were doing or why. All they knew was that if felt good… unbelievably good.
The Count raised his waist off the ground a bit with her on top of him, pushing his need harder between her legs, lifting her up with him and she released a soft shuddering breath of delight, her eyes fluttering open and shut as her thighs tightened and squeezed his waist, her hands resting on his abdomen to keep herself upright.
Pictures from her darkest fantasies clouded her mind as the grinding intensified on both sides, his shaft pushing against her pants and his to the point where the formfitting material now outlined the lips between her legs. She could see herself riding him in her mind, with him sheathed inside of her and a powerful shiver raced down her spine, leaving her skin crawling wildly.
She wanted to make that fantasy a reality.
The Count could feel the heat coming from her, could smell it in the air, and he noticed how her beautiful eyes brightened and rolled behind her fluttering lashes as images of darker things painted scarlet pictures in her mind—pictures of that covered length forcing its way inside of her, stretching her insides to their limits, both of them hot and naked on the floor.
Dracula watched Hera's face contort in an expression of mixed confusion and arousal as she felt him in her head, witnessing the things she was imagining, partaking in her pleasure as she intensified his.
"What are you doing to me?" she whimpered.
He only stared into her eyes.
"I'm not doing anything," he breathed. "This is all you."
Hera stared into his eyes with disbelief as reality slapped her hard across the face, shattering the beautiful illusion their primitive desires had created.
"What?" she asked him as her grinding came to a halt. "You're not controlling me?"
He shook his head "no" and Hera cursed under her breath as she rather abruptly tried to retreat, but he quickly grabbed hold of her wrists again, squeezing them hard.
"No," he pleaded desperately, the single out of character response taking her by surprise.
He only wants you to continue so he can persuade you to make more mistakes, her insecurities taunted in the back of her mind. He doesn't care… he was just acting. He doesn't care about you. He only cares about your body, about his own pleasure. Don't let him use you.
Her overactive and very persuasive conscience vexed her greatly and she struggled against his hold.
"Yes," she answered stubbornly, and she tried to yank herself free from his grip. She half expected him to let her go, but instead he her rolled over onto her back, perching himself above her, his hands on either side of her head.
"Why did you do that?" he demanded and she made a face.
Was he angry with her because she wanted to stop? Why the hell did he care that she stopped in the first place?
She decided to play dumb.
"Do what?"
"That," he exclaimed, referring to the randomly intimate moment they had shared just seconds ago.
"I don't know, just get off of me," she answered in aggravated tones, trying to push him off of her, and he finally relented, not willing to fight.
A strange and awkward silence lingered between them for a few long moments as the two sat on the floor until, without warning, Dracula stood, straightening up his jacket and heading toward Hera's window.
"I need some air," he suddenly informed her for no reason at all and before Hera could even respond, he had shifted and taken off into the night, leaping off the ledge of her terrace window and letting gravity take its hold on him.
The mortal managed to get herself to her feet and she moved quietly over to the abandoned window, shutting it very gently and pulling the drapes over the glass. She stood there for a moment or two, just staring at the curtains before prying herself away and moving over to the basin of cold water that resided on the bedside table.
Without a second thought, she dunked her entire head into the icy cold water, holding it there for nearly a minute before emerging, gasping for air. A loud and almost cruel slap resonated in the otherwise empty room when Hera's hand came colliding with her cold, wet face rather harshly. Then she stared at her reflection in the mirror in front of her.
"What… in God's name… was that?" she panted to herself. She smacked herself again. "Come on Hera, get a hold of yourself!"
After a few lengthy moments staring motionless at her reflection, Hera finally marched in the direction of her private bath.
God, did she need one – an ice cold one.
And oh, how she wished she had a bathroom door to slam, but there was none, so instead she kicked the side of the archway before moving into the smaller chamber and turning the faucet, watching as the freezing water filled the pristine free-standing tub.
Confusing thoughts swarmed her head—like why did she do what she did, and why did she go from being utterly infuriated with him to suddenly craving wild and meaningless sex – and with Dracula, of all people?
She didn't know the answer, but what she did know was that it was a huge mistake on her part. What had turned out as a lovely evening of revenge had ended in an unexpected counter-attack… one she never had seen coming.