This chapter... oh this chapter... this chapter marks the peak of Dracula's battle with his inner demons. That "back-up plan for Hera" that has been mentioned with purposeful vagueness throughout the whole story... it gets unveiled in this chapter. I had considered changing the nature of this back-up plan from what it was in the original, but chose to keep it because it's such an integral part of the story from here on out, so if it seems obvious or cliched or whatever... just... bear with me. Remember, I originally wrote this story something like 7 or 8 years ago.

DISCLAIMER: this chapter also contains some scenes of a sexual nature that may make a few of you a tad uncomfortable (I know it did in the original). It's nothing that scandalous. In fact, I think after most of you read it, you'll probably look at me and say "that's it?" But I remember when I first posted this chapter, several of my original readers were shocked I had posted something like this because it was something they had never seen in a VH fanfic before. Whatever. You've been warned. And now that I've made all of you nervous...

HUGE thank you to those who reviewed yesterday! She-Devil Red, Scarlet Empress, RegencyPoet, Bloodsired, BornRose2, alexc1209, violetrose18, the invisible reader, 12345678910, ForeverACharmedOne, Cosmopolitan Countess, AnimeFan001, Nyx-Arae, Kiriari, bloodyrose2014, and ShadowSpade. You guys are so awesome and I adore you and even though I am so unbelievably burned out when it comes to editing/working on this story, I continue to do so for you because you guys are all so flipping amazing and you deserve something of quality (which I am so desperately trying to give you).

Would really appreciate your feedback on this chapter! The next one is a doozy...


XLIV

A Powerful Hunger

The emblem of day began to sink below the horizon in a gradual submission as the moon took her position in the twilight. As the sun retreated behind the towering Mátra Mountains, the sky was then painted a luxurious and mystical black, with hues of blue and violet, diamond stars encrusted into a sea of rich velvet.

The incomparable light of the full harvest moon grew brighter with every passing second of the brightest star's withdrawal, its light creeping through a heavy pair of drapes that seemed to split apart of their own accord, the high-paned windows that led out onto the terrace opening slowly, as if willed to do so.

The evening air slipped into the room, carrying a soft aroma of the mountains to the east, and the city of Budapest to the west. The moonlight pushed its way through the break in the curtains, only to stop and rest in a soft pillar on a bed.

Its light gently illuminated the pale skin of a muscular arm that was draped over the curve of a feminine waist. The arm moved up to a broad shoulder, which then spread to a powerful chest, strong back, and columned neck. The presence of the moonlight penetrated the comforting darkness, stirring the dark-haired man from his pleasant slumber.

The Count's brow creased slightly from the disturbance before he peeled his eyelids back, the brilliant azure of his irises casting a barely noticeable glow. For a fleeting moment he forgot where he was, but the instant he realized who was sleeping beside him, he remembered, and his lips twitched with a faint smile.

His grip on Hera's waist tightened as he pulled the slumbering mortal's warm body closer to his before burying his face into the disarray of her hair with a content sigh. She smells divine he thought to himself, inhaling deeply. His actions did not awaken her from her slumber, even as he caged her body with his arm and leg that now rested over her thigh. The human unconsciously melted into his hold, as if she knew it were he.

Her involuntary submission awoke a tightening sensation in the Count's groin, sending a deep pulsation of pleasure through his hard body and a small rumble of approval vibrated in his chest.

He wanted her.

He wanted her bad.

The faint movement of her body as she snuggled closer to him whilst she continued to sleep caused her butt to rub against the unplanned erection and his eyes rolled shut as a dark, primal need came to life. The temptation to awaken her and make love to her till the dawn rapidly turned into an insistent need and it didn't take long for that hunger to course angrily through his veins. The demon within, the one which had been awoken by the feel of Hera's soft body, was now pacing furiously behind the cage of Dracula's chest, demanding it's needs be satiated.

But a single thought forced the vampire to abruptly silence the beast as he push himself away from the woman before him, immediately retreating from the bed as he realized what today was.

Happy Anniversary, a voice taunted in the back of his mind and he groaned softly as he took several steps back into the darkness of the room.

His eyes never left the innocently slumbering Hera who lay in the center of the bed, now on her back, her luxuriant mass of hair sprawled out over the pillows like a halo of fire, a look of contentment and peace on her seemingly angelic face.

She looked like sin itself, her knee slightly bent beneath the covers, the front of her nightgown having been pulled down somewhat from her unintentional movements, giving his greedy eyes a view of soft, unblemished cleavage. He licked his lips, his mind recalling what her skin tasted like and he felt the pressure starting to build at the base of his spine.

But he couldn't… Not to her.

Not tonight.

Especially not tonight.

There were consequences, consequences that just weren't worth the risk and before he could lose his nerve and before the demon within could convince him otherwise, he quickly dressed and exited the room in a silent blur of coat tails and black. His pace down the hall was relentless and full of anxiety.

"Why does it have to be now?" he muttered between gritted teeth. "Why couldn't it be while she was unconscious or when she was away and living with Anna?" and he made a turn down the hall towards the stairs.

"I hate this curse," he continued aloud, although his voice remained hushed. "I'll admit, I can deal with everything else. I love being a vampire. It's what I am, it's who I am. But this! Why do I have to be like this one week every hundred years? I mean, yes it could be worse. I could be fertile with every woman I come across every single day. But why now, damn you?"

He marched down the stairs, frustration in his every step.

"Why is it that after all these years, four centuries of not being able to find a mortal that is totally and completely willing, that I find one who is not only willing, but is in love with me, and I with her? And the fact that I can't tell her… I…"

He stopped in his tracks and just stood in the center of the staircase, staring blankly into the distance, his expression etched in a kind of hopeless despair as if his very soul were rent down the middle.

The deal that Dracula had made with the devil all those centuries ago included a certain part of the pact that he never really cared about, let alone understood the purpose for – until Hera had stumbled into his life.

Every hundred years, during the week of his anniversary of being resurrected and given new life, if he slept with an emotionally and physically willing mortal who was wholly ignorant of this part of his curse, she would bear his child. The child would be part vampire, part human. Until the child came of age, it could be killed by the usual methods that often led to the true death of a vampire. But as soon as the offspring had finished its maturation, he or she would not only be immune to those usual vampire deterrents, but they could convert and breed with other vampires, his or her children being just like them: immune to vampire allergens and more powerful than any being on this earth.

They would spread like a disease upon the land, since each pregnancy would last a matter of days and the bearer of the babe could easily conceive more than one child at a time.

The pregnancy of whomever Dracula impregnated, according to legend, would instead of lasting nine months, only last nine days. Tonight was the last evening of his week-long anniversary period and he had been avoiding sex with Hera since it had started, simply because he couldn't force her to go through that. Not only did he not want to get her pregnant without her consent, but the delivery of such a child was supposed to be so intensive, there was a tremendous risk of the mother dying in the process.

When Hera had first crossed his path, the original plan had been to seduce her and then use her for this very purpose as she could give him living children wherein his brides had proved failures as their offspring were born dead. Dracula had once been possessed with the need for world domination, and the idea of Hera bearing him such a child had once appealed to him greatly.

Now that he was on the verge of accomplishing what he had worked so hard to achieve – it just wasn't worth the risk anymore.

But having her under the same roof as him seemed to make the situation all the worse. If he could just tell her the details of this precarious situation, perhaps that would have made things easier. And yet, part of the curse clearly stated that he wasn't allowed to speak of it to any mortal ever, or said mortal would surely die.

Dracula had yearned for a living child of his own flesh and blood for an age and to have Hera as the mother was perfection in his mind, but this sudden conscience which was born out of his love for her – he couldn't do it.

So what was he to do?

Dracula had always hated not having control over a situation, and right now was no different.

He wouldn't be able to withstand the urges he knew would come later on in the evening. The raging beast within, when in heat, was impossible to restrain, and should he come in contact with Hera, he'd be past the point of no return.

She'd willingly submit, and he'd take her without as much as a thought. He knew he would.

The Count slumped down and took a seat on the staircase, trying to think of something he could do.

Since tonight was the last night of this torturous period, the urges would be literally insatiable.

From experience, he was certain it would drive him to act irrationally. If he wanted to spare Hera, he needed to stay away from her tonight. Just thinking about her lying upstairs in that bed and all alone made him hard, and the lingering of her scent on his clothes wasn't helping either. He buried his face in his hands and exhaled loudly, muttering an uncharacteristic appeal to the heavens for strength repeatedly until he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

He looked up to see Jane standing in front of him. She and the other servants had arrived shortly after Hera had retired to bed the night before, and the presence of Jane, in particular, he found especially reassuring as he'd need her help now tonight more than ever before. Someone had to keep Hera away from him and she had always been extremely resourceful.

"Master? Is something the matter?"

Dracula said nothing.

He only regarded the servant with a rare and nearly foreign look of a lost child. That gaze told her everything she needed to know as her expression became grave.

Her master had never appeared so human to her before.

"Oh," was all she said. "Where is she?"

"Upstairs in her bedroom. She's still asleep."

"I see. What… What would you have me do, my lord? If there is indeed anything I can do."

"Until Verona or Aleera arrive, there really is nothing that can be done," he said with a sigh. "I received word from Verona before I retired, however. She said she, Aleera, and Velkan were in pursuit of Van Helsing and Anna. Apparently they found the monster and must pass through Budapest on their way to Rome."

Jane smiled.

"Well master, that's wonderful news!" she exclaimed. "The monster is alive?"

Clearly Dracula wasn't too thrilled with the report. If anything, he appeared disappointed, or apathetic at the very least.

"Apparently," he answered dryly.

He had much bigger problems before him presently and Jane quickly realized this, her smile fading as she watched him rise to his feet.

"Jane, I am not to be disturbed by anyone for the remainder of the evening," he ordered resolutely. "Especially by Hera."

"Naturally, master. I shall inform her when she awakes."

"She is to remain indoors and under supervision at all times. The city at night is no place for an unchaperoned woman, especially with more of our kind arriving for the masque this weekend."

"Of course."

"Speaking of which, I took the liberty of contacting Bozsidán last night. He should be arriving within the hour to drop off some dresses for Miss Garret to try on for the masquerade this weekend. Please help her decide which she would wish to wear and make sure it's fitted properly."

"As you wish."

"And Jane?" he called before turning down a darkened hall that led to a secluded set of private chambers.

"Yes, master?"

He pointed at her for a moment and then recoiled as if he were indecisive. Clearly laboring over his words, something he rarely did, he pleaded:

"Keep her away from me. For my sake and her own… keep…" he struggled, but pushed the words out, "keep her away from me, Jane. I beg you. I… I don't want to hurt her."

The housekeeper nodded her head, bowing.

The Count fought to keep his face emotionless, but the pain in his eyes was evident. He was aching and just the thought of Hera made him crave some kind of reprieve, but he knew deep down he wouldn't get it.

"I shall do my best, my lord, but… are you sure you wish to stay in the house?"

"I cannot risk going into the city and drawing the kind of attention my coming state would attract."

"I understand. Shall I fetch anything for your aid, then, master? Perhaps a few of the ladies in the city?"

"No. I don't want anyone else. I only want…" but the Count couldn't even utter her name without the demon inside of him growling indignantly.

The only aid that would ever help him would be Hera, and he didn't have the heart to inflict any more pain on her than she had already endured. When he gave Jane his answer, she acknowledged him with a look of solemnity and pity, watching as he quickly retreated to his chambers, locking the doors from within.

Upon entering the room, Dracula clutched one of the posts of his bed in the darkness in an effort to keep himself upright, the very distance between Hera and himself stealing his breath. His clawed fingers dug into the polished wood as he strained to keep from grabbing the cursed organ that was now throbbing within his trousers.

Somehow, he found the strength to resist the urge to force a release out of him, knowing that relenting would only make things worse, but he knew he wouldn't be able to withstand the temptation for long. He just had to survive the next several hours, until the hour of midnight. Then he would be free for the next hundred years.

Yet still, the question remained – would he be strong enough to keep himself away from Hera until then?


Hera awoke an hour after sunset, the dim light in the fireplace adding a soothing glow to the room as she rolled over and sighed, a pleased smile curving her lips. What a remarkable sleep she had had. She had never felt so rested in her life.

After stretching beneath the linens, she sat up, noticing immediately that the other side of the mattress looked slept in, the sheets beneath the blankets still bearing the imprint of another body. Curiosity getting the better of her, and having her own suspicions, she leaned forward and inhaled the pillows beside her deeply, only to sigh dreamily when she recognized the scent—Dracula.

Dracula had been here and the thought of him crawling into bed beside her as she slept made the woman want to swoon. She fell onto her back on the bed and giggled.

He loves me she thought, smiling brilliantly. Vladislaus loves me.

Sitting up, she grabbed the pillow that smelled like him and buried her face in it before letting out a powerful scream, unable to keep in her excitement for a moment longer. The moment she stopped, she moved the pillow away from her face, only to notice that several lights in the room had been lit, and Jane was roaming about, turning on the rest before throwing open the drapes to all the windows.

"Good evening to you, too, Miss Garret," the servant teased. "I hope that wasn't a shriek of frustration."

Hera chuckled and fell back onto the bed.

"Quite the contrary. It was a cry of utter joy," and she rolled off the mattress and onto the floor, dancing about the room as if she were waltzing on clouds. "I feel so alive, Jane," she exclaimed, throwing open the terrace windows and soaking in the frigid night air. "I've never felt this way in my life!"

She then spun around quickly, following the housekeeper with her eyes, watching as she made the bed.

"Where's the Count?"

Jane did her best to keep the smile on her face, but it wasn't without difficulty. She had to remind herself that Hera wasn't to know of the situation… that she didn't know.

"I ran into him earlier this evening," Jane explained casually. "Unfortunately, he has a great deal of work to get done this evening and won't be able to keep you company until after midnight. The master has insisted that no one disturb him, including you. He's asked that I extend his apologies."

Hera's smile fell a little.

"Oh." When Jane nodded, Hera persisted. "What kind of work?"

"I don't know the nature of the master's business, Miss Garret, though I assume it may have something to do with the masquerade ball this weekend. But if the master says that he doesn't wish to be disturbed, even by you, then he must be serious. I would advise that you pay heed to his wishes."

Hera nodded.

"No, of course Jane. I had no intention of doing otherwise. Besides, if I only have to wait until after midnight, as you said, then it should only be a handful of hours. I'll survive," and she moved over to the other side of the bed so she could help the servant finish with making it. "Did he say exactly how long after midnight?" she inquired.

"I don't believe so, miss. Hopefully shortly after, although considering the nature of his work, he may be ill company. Worst case scenario – you won't be seeing him until tomorrow evening."

"Oh."

Jane observed the evident disappointment in Hera's features, and though it pained her to have to lie to the woman, it was for the best. Hera would thank her for it, if and when she ever found out the truth.

"So the question now remains," the servant continued, "what do we do this evening?"

Hera shrugged.

"I don't know," she sighed, taking a seat in the chaise lounge by the fire as Jane pulled out some clothes for Hera to change into.

Nothing really sounded that appealing to the young woman right now. All she wanted to do was be with the Count. She found that being denied his company made her feel achy, and in a way his absence never had before.

She should have noticed the change in herself, but she didn't.

"Well, why don't you come downstairs with me, we'll have the cook fix you up something to eat and we can think of things for you to do this evening? Hmm?" Jane offered.

Hera smiled and offered her consent with a nod, quickly changing out of her nightclothes before leaving the bedroom. In compliance with Jane's query, the two were soon chatting wildly about Hera's evening with the Count the night before.


Dracula groaned loudly as the deprivation began to take its toll on him, his entire body raw and aching, begging for the relief he denied himself time and time again.

He was curled up on the large bed, the linens torn and twisted, his shirts and jacket on the floor. Laced in a thin sheen of sweat, he fought and struggled with himself as the need became more and more powerful.

The sound of laughter suddenly caught his attention, interrupting his torment and his ears perked up.

It was Hera.

That was Hera laughing.

He calmed instantly at the sound, crawling to his knees and hugging the post of the bed as he listened, using his heightened senses to pick up her heartbeat. She was in the kitchen with Jane and Emma. The three women were discussing something, but he hardly cared about the topic.

The thought of Hera brought him peace, the sound of her voice soothed his nerves – but the reprieve lasted for only a short time.

Soon enough, that sound no longer pacified him, but caused the ache to start up once more. He held onto the bedpost, wrapping his long fingers around the lovingly carved wood, digging his nails into it as the demon thrashed within him again.

Memories—flashes of them—danced in his mind's eye.

He recalled the one evening he had shared with Hera back in Castle Dracula, when he had made love to her. He could feel her beneath his body, how he stretched and filled her. He could taste her sweat, smell her arousal, hear her grunts and moans, could feel how her nails scored his back. Everything in his mind was wet, rhythmic, and hot.

The throbbing of his cock intensified with every minute that passed and soon, he could bear the denial no longer. There was only one way to find relief from this agony, but his conscience forbade him to leave the room. So he unlaced his pants, clenched his eyes shut, and grabbed himself, moving his hand in a pumping motion, imagining it was Hera's hand.

Within a matter of moments, the orgasm came and a feeling of calm swept through his body as the shaft in his palm went flaccid and the ripples of pleasure pulsated through him. He fell back onto the bed, panting.

It was done.

The useless breath that escaped his lips slowed as the waves gradually came to a halt. Dracula opened his eyes, waiting for a relapse, but none came.

He dared to expel a sigh of relief as the silence washed over him.

Perhaps it was done?

But when his mind took note of Hera's heartbeat once again, he felt himself go hard and he muttered an oath of frustration, a plea for mercy swelling in his breast as his sexual need intensified, growing ten times stronger than what it had been just moments before. He glanced over at the clock on his wall as his senses were too out of wack to detect the time.

It had only been two hours since he had left Hera's room… Just two hours? He groaned inwardly.

Tonight would be the longest night of his life.

He just knew it.


The two servants and the human laughed hysterically as Emma blew a kiss to the footman who had come in for a quick meal. His mood wasn't always the best and the women had taken to teasing him, finding great amusement in how he flushed in embarrassment before exiting with a huff.

The three females were all seated around the island in the middle of the kitchen as Hera ate her meal, both Emma and Jane keeping her company. Jane had rather discretely informed Emma of the situation and the younger maid offered her assistance in distracting the mortal for the evening.

Naturally, being around Hera was more of a privilege than anything else. It certainly beat the mundane of doing chores; that was for certain.

"So back to the story," Emma insisted. "What happened next? After dinner?"

Hera took another bite of food before continuing the tale.

"Well, he decided we'd walk home," Hera began.

"What? He made you walk in those shoes?" Emma asked.

"Good heavens, no. I had slipped those off as soon as we hit the grass of the hill," she explained. "But he reached over for my hand again…" the two servants gave that all too feminine aww, which earned another giggle from Hera who continued her story, "… yes. And he took me up to the cemetery. You know, the one up behind the palace."

"Yes. We know it very well. There used to be a large church where this palace now sits. A few of the original walls still stand," Jane explained.

"She doesn't care about the history of the architecture, Jane!" Emma replied, but Hera just smiled.

"Actually, I love history. But we can save that for later."

"Yes, tell us more," Emma said excitingly. Jane sent the maid a look, but the woman just smiled. "What? The master's brides never talk to us about anything and I don't know about you, but I can't remember the last time the master was this romantic with anyone!"

Jane chuckled and looked back over at Hera.

"You may continue, my dear."

"Right. Well, he took me up to the graveyard and we started talking. He asked me questions about my time period, what it was like… and the next thing I knew he was sitting beside me, telling me he loved me."

"Really?" Emma sighed.

Hera nodded.

"Yes. And how he said it was so… it was so beautiful and genuine, clearly not rehearsed in the slightest. I could tell by the way he fumbled with his words and what not."

"The master fumbled with his words?" Jane asked, clearly as astonished as Emma was. The looks on their faces were priceless.

"Yes. And though it was a bit uncharacteristic of him, it was so sweet. He told me he loved me, and then," Hera could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Did he kiss you?" Emma asked, on the edge of her seat. Hera leaned back, a dreamy look in her eyes as if she were playing the entire thing over again in her mind.

"Yes," was her whimsical response. "Oh I wish I could explain it to you. It makes me melt just thinking about it!"

"He must really love you," Jane replied with a knowing look in her eyes. "Of all the years I've known him, I've never heard, let alone seen him act in the way he does around you. He's become a different man since you stumbled into his life."

Hera felt her cheeks grow hot at the compliment.

"So, did anything… uh… happen after he kissed you?" Emma suddenly asked. "I want every detail."

"Emma, child, don't be vulgar!" Jane laughed. "I swear, you and those tasteless dime novels."

Hera laughed.

"It's alright, Jane. Actually, no. We didn't sleep together. He did show me Ilona's grave, though. And then his father's, and his brothers. He said he had their bodies removed from the original graves and had the remains transported to Budapest so his family could all be in the same place…"

"Yes, I remember when he did that," came Jane's reply. "It was quite the controversy."

Silence lingered for just a moment or two between the women before Jane finally stood from her seat, heading towards the door.

"Well, I better go see if Bozsidán has dropped off the gowns the master ordered for you. Best you finish up your meal, Miss Garret," and she excused herself from the kitchen.

Now, more than ever, was Hera truly grateful she had the stomach of a goat, metaphorically speaking of course, as the meal Emma had concocted had been delicious and rather excessive in size. As she finished her food, she glanced over at the maid who looked like she was trying to be busy by washing the dishes.

"Do you need help with that?" Hera asked, as soon as she was finished. Emma's eyes remained lowered as a sheepish grin curved her pale lips.

"I usually don't do the dishes. I've always had laundry and dusting duties… things like that."

Hera nodded in understanding, placing her dishes in the sink and taking Emma's hands out of the warm, soapy water.

"I can tell," she teased. "Come on. Leave that for Frida. Don't want to be doing her job for her. Let's head to the library and see if we can find something for me to read while I pretend to be your dress up doll for the evening," and the two left the room, talking and laughing amongst themselves, the sound echoing through the halls.


Dracula let out a full on growl, his fangs lengthened and talons extended as he gripped the tattered mattress that he had literally torn to shreds. He was strewn about what remained of the bed, completely naked, his taut, pale skin glistening with sweat in the dimly lit chamber. After the howl in his throat died, he gasped for air, tears of unspeakable anguish streaming down his face as he fought with his hand, not wanting to force a release from himself any more.

It only made it worse… he knew it did, and yet every time the aching need neared its peak, he would reach for himself and force the cursed orgasm out of him. He'd obtain only instants of relief and then the vicious cycle would start back up again.

He had been at this for what felt like years, but had only been maybe a few hours max. The Count's body was flexed, tense, and exhausted with the struggle. He had gone through this before, had experienced periods of heat or needing just like any other vampire, but this… this was hell.

He wasn't allowed to obtain the relief his body so desperately craved.

Instead, he was forced to suffer through the denial, his body's repercussions so much more violent than he ever imagined them to be. He cried in frustration as he sank his claws into another pillow, tearing it to pieces, feathers flying everywhere as he continued to try to keep his hands busy so he wouldn't grab himself again.

He was so tired of this fight, his strength and willpower nearly depleted. Dracula continued to twist and thrash on the bed, grabbing hold of the bedpost with both hands in desperation.

But that laughter.

Hera's sweet, beautiful laughter was moving down the hall above him and although he shouldn't have heard it, his senses were heightened in ways that otherwise wouldn't have been possible. He could feel her heart pumping all that fresh blood through her veins like it was pounding in his head; he could hear her melodic voice as if she were in the same room; her scent seemed to have embedded itself into his skin and was now all over the bed, the gorgeous aroma making his suffering all the worse.

He needed her.

He wanted her….

Only she could give him what he so desperately craved and just that thought in itself nearly had him on his feet, heading towards the door, but he caught himself the moment his foot went to touch the floor and he recoiled immediately. He backed as far away from the door as he possibly could, willing the remaining furniture in the room to block his only exit out.

He wasn't going to touch her.

He would not do that to her, he would not!

He grabbed his head and let out a loud sob as he doubled over, the overpowering scent of his heat and needing a powerful fume that he was certain was now saturating the house. He pleaded with any deity that would listen that Jane and Emma were keeping Hera as far away from him as they could.

And more importantly, that he'd be able to last the remaining few hours until midnight.


"What about a Jane Austen novel?" Emma called from the second floor of the library, leaning over the railing to look down at Hera, who was rummaging through the books on the main floor.

"No. I'm not in the mood," she muttered to herself. "Keep looking!"

Emma nodded, continuing to thumb through the books.

Hera moved down the row, eyeing the hundreds of titles with vague interest. As she walked, naturally her thoughts turned to Dracula. She wondered what he was working on that was so important that she wasn't even permitted to so much as know where he was.

The woman grumbled something incoherent beneath her breath as she ran her fingers aimlessly over the bindings.

She missed him.

Sure, she hadn't seen him since last night after they had arrived home and she had retired to bed, but it had felt like ages… eons.

With a restless sigh, she leaned against the bookcase, wanting more than anything to ditch Emma to go and look for Dracula. It was only ten in the evening, but surely if he had been up before her, he would not object to a brief interruption from whatever it was he was doing?

The human inhaled deeply as if to sigh, when she caught a whiff of something she had not noticed before – a strange, seductive spice in the air that she could not place, but the scent made something primitive within her click. She breathed in that intoxicating aroma once again so she could get a better taste of whatever it was.

The air that filled her lungs as she did so warmed her all the way down to her toes and without even realizing it, she was soon wandering out of the rows of books and into the main sitting area towards the exit. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her subconscious faintly wondered where that delicious smell was coming from, and why the presence of it made her so damn horny all of a sudden.

The fragrance, although faint, seemed to ensnare her senses as if it were a phantom, possessing and beckoning… calling to her. She was about to open the door when Emma abruptly appeared between Hera and the exit, a slightly panicked look on her face. Before the mortal could inquire as to what was wrong or what that smell was, Emma shoved a book in front of her.

"The Illiad," she said quickly.

Hera shook her head slightly as if to dispel a bout of sluggishness.

"What?"

"The Illiad," the maid repeated. "Read that one. I love Achilles and Hector, the battle of Troy, the idea of sexy, half-naked men running around killing each other. Read this one."

The sound of the vampire's voice seemed to pull Hera back into the present and she smiled somewhat as she accepted the offered book, temporarily distracted.

"Okay," was her mildly suspicious response as she flipped open the thick volume, thumbing through its pages. "I've read this before numerous times. Do you have anything else? Maybe some Russian literature?"

"Hmm, we don't have a lot of that. There are some nice French novels though, and Jane says you speak French beautifully."

"Do you have any Gustave Flaubert?"

"I think the master has a copy of Madame Bovary. Have you read that one before?"

"I have, but it's been a while. I can read that one, if you wish."

"Excellent!" Emma replied, materializing into the stacks for a just a few seconds before reappearing with the book in her hand. "Shall we?"

Suddenly the library doors flew open and in walked Jane, the most horrifically concerned expression on her face. The moment those doors opened, however, more of that unknown scent from earlier flooded the room and Hera's senses were assaulted, the aroma instantly saturating her brain.

What she didn't know was it was the Count's heat, a pheromonal call to all mortal females that were within the vicinity of him, although in this particular situation, it was meant specifically for Hera.

The woman felt a coiling in her womb as if something primal and unseen was pleading for her and for the oddest reason, she wanted to heed that call. Jane took notice and quickly put on a smile in hopes that she'd be able to pull Hera back into reality.

"Your gowns are in your bedchambers, Miss Garret. Shall we get you fitted?" and without waiting for a word of consent, the servant grabbed Hera's hand, briskly pulling her towards the opposite end of the palace in the direction of her bedroom.

"Wait," Hera called. "What…" and she breathed in deeply, this strange, addicting sensation of utter bliss making its way through her body, as if the only thing she could feel was that curling heat in her groin and the onslaught of butterflies in her stomach. "What is that beautiful smell?"

Emma sent Jane a worried look and Jane's pace quickened, her grip on Hera's wrist like iron; if the mortal got too close to the Count, there was no going back.

He would take her, Hera would blindly and willingly let him, and there would be nothing Jane or Emma or even the devil himself could do to stop it.

"What smell?" Jane asked, her eyes pleading with Emma to at least pretend nothing was wrong. The girl, fortunately, caught on.

"Yeah. I don't smell anything," she lied.

Hera started to pull against Jane's powerful grip.

"It smells divine," Hera whined. "Oh god!" and she tried to free her hand.

Her skin was crawling wildly, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, goose-pimples blanketing her arms, legs, and back as the scent of the Count's heat devoured her. She could almost feel it entering her nose and mouth, running down the back of her throat and shooting out like wildfire through her veins from the capillaries in her neck, over her shoulders, down her arms and back, all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes and breasts.

It was like being cold and stepping underneath the drizzle of warm water, soaking into her scalp and running over her skin.

The sensation was the most beautiful thing the mortal had ever felt, like a small fraction of what an orgasm was like, that slight tension and excitement before the feeling of release, the tingle, the sparks – only on a smaller scale. Hera could feel her nipples tightening, her sex engorging with heat and she let out a moan.

"Please, let me go," she gasped, a heavy erotic undertone in her voice. "It wants me," she kept saying. "Let me go to it. Let me go to it... it wants me... it needs me..."

"Emma, dear, could you please run ahead and open all the windows in Hera's bedroom? It's awfully stuffy in there and needs to be aired out… now," which basically translated to "air the room out of the Count's heat before we get there."

Emma vanished into thin air the instant the command was given, leaving Jane to drag the mortal down the hall and up another flight of stairs, desperate to get her to the one place she'd be safe: her bedroom. There, they could lock the doors and air out the chamber so the smell wouldn't get to her.

After much difficulty, the two finally arrived. Jane was very pleased to see that Emma had not only followed her instructions, but had had the mind to light some incense and stoke the fire so it was now blazing, not only battling the chill of the night air that was entering through the windows, but also masking what remained of the Count's pheromones.

The moment they were inside, Jane quickly shut and locked the door as Hera stood there leaning against the wall, dazed and staring blankly ahead of her.

The smell finally dissipated as Emma fanned a blanket by the window and Hera gradually emerged from the stupor she had been in. She made a curious expression before reaching for her face, rubbing the spell out of her eyes.

"What happened?" she asked, dreadfully confused. "How did we… why are we in my room?" and she sent Jane and Emma bewildered looks.

The two women smiled brilliantly, pretending as if nothing was the matter.

They were bloody good liars.

"Your dresses came in," Jane reminded her, motioning to the large boxes that were lined up along the wall.

With the clearing of the woman's throat, Emma took the hint of her superior and moved over to the boxes, opening them up one by one, revealing a rainbow of the most luxurious gowns Hera had ever seen. The human instantly forgot about whatever it was that had happened just moments ago as she covered her mouth in awe.

"Oh my God… these are stunning!" the mortal exclaimed, moving quickly over to the boxes, watching as Jane and Emma removed each gown, laying them about the room over the furniture.

"Bozsidán is the finest dress maker in all of Budapest," the housekeeper answered with pride. "And probably the whole of Eastern Europe. The master rarely orders gowns from the man, seeing as how each one easily costs a fortune, and they are only ever ordered for very special occasions."

"There's so many of them," Hera said, picking up a striking emerald gown, trimmed with black lace. She held it up against her body, moved by the beauty of the craftsmanship.

"Obviously he cares very little about price when it comes to you, Miss Garret," Emma replied.

Hera blushed.

"These aren't all mine, are they?" she asked. "I only get one, right?"

"They are all yours, miss. But you must choose one for the masque this weekend so we can get the gown fitted to your precise measurements," Jane explained.

Hera was moved by the Count's generosity, almost to the point of tears.

She couldn't help it; never before had anyone doted on her like the Count did. He adored her, cared deeply when it came to her pleasure and satisfaction, and he clearly spared no expense when it came to spoiling her.

Hera was so used to the paternal kind of dotage she had received from her own excellent father, but this… this was something so much more profound and intimate than that.

She knew the Count was aware that he didn't have to buy her love, but the fact that he had gone through all this trouble to pick out such gorgeous gowns with her and only her in mind… it made her eyes sparkle.

"I don't even know where to begin," she replied, fingers hovering over her mouth. "Which one do you think he'd prefer?"

"I don't think that matters, miss, so long as you wear one of them," Emma laughed.

"What's his favorite color? Black?" and Hera picked up a beautiful ebony silk gown.

"Everyone will be wearing black," Emma explained. "But you are his and should dress as such. I think a dark maroon or violet would be gorgeous," and she held up two more dresses.

"The master has always been partial to women dressed in crimson," Jane suddenly chimed in, helping Hera out of her clothes.

Soon, the mortal was standing in the center of the rather chilly room in nothing but her undergarments as Jane lifted up the emerald gown Hera had been admiring earlier.

"There are some very ravishing looking gowns of that precise color," Jane continued, and she helped Hera into the rich green-colored number first, her strong, busy fingers snapping and lacing up the back of the dress before stepping back, both servants openly admiring the frock. "Although I'll have to agree with Emma; I don't think it matters what you wear, my dear. These will all look absolutely stunning on you."

The flush in Hera's cheeks deepened.

"What do you wish to do, miss?" Emma asked.

The woman didn't have to think twice about it. She already knew her answer.

"Let's try them all on," she announced excitedly as she twirled around, admiring herself in the mirror. "Each and every one."


He was gasping, panting.

The potent scent of his heat saturated the room. His body was hard from the tension in his muscles, his hand barely holding onto the shaft between his legs as he allowed his false release to soothe him for the time being. It had been six and a half hours since he had gotten up early this evening and left Hera's bedroom.

Freaking six and a half bloody hours.

He had endured this torture for so long now and he could feel his resolve slipping. He was so close to the finish line – just a measly forty minutes away and then it would all be over. But he couldn't do this anymore. Every time the ache started up again, he'd quickly force the release out of him. But it was getting to the point where not even he could relinquish it, and he finally admitted to himself as that needing made its way through his veins once again that he could not win this battle.

Dracula groaned in despair as he removed his hand from his pulsating cock before curling into the fetal position on the bed, at war with what his body needed and what his heart was begging him not to do.

He couldn't do this to Hera, even though he knew how willing she'd be if he asked or just took. The vampire bit his lip, burying his face into what was left of the linens as his emotions got the better of him, clenching his eyes shut as if he were on the verge of tears.

I don't want to hurt her, he thought to himself pitifully through his silent cries. Please, don't make me do this to her… give me strength. I… I… I can't, and he covered his face in shame as he felt a power beyond his own will hijack his body, as if the very demon living inside of him were forcing him off the bed.

While he dressed, he pleaded silently in his mind and heart for mercy from anyone who would hear, but soon, only the need existed and it didn't matter what the Count wanted.

The curse came first now and it was running out of time.

All emotion was absent from his face as his lack of resistance allowed the lust to course freely through his veins. Unable to withstand the temptation to embrace his more primal urges, his mind began to rationalize the situation in a final attempt at damage control as he began to remove the barricade from the door.

I don't want to do this, part of him said. I don't want to do this to Hera.

She will forgive you, Vladislaus. She loves you, the demon within seemed to say.

I still don't want to do this to her. I wish there was some way to tell her… to warn her.

But there is no way. It must be done. See? I told you the dangers of falling in love with that human but you wouldn't listen! You never listen!

I thought I could be strong for her, he thought hopelessly.

And you see the repercussions of your choices?

I don't want to hurt her.

You won't hurt her, Vlad. Damn it, get a hold of yourself! She's just a human… just a senseless, pathetic, inconsequential human! Enjoy this, Vladislaus. She will give it to you willingly. Use her love for you as you had always intended. You've wanted a child for centuries, have you not?

Of course I have, he thought as he made his way out of the room, fully dressed, his expression unreadable. I've always wanted a child.

And don't you think this is the most perfect opportunity? Think of it, Vladislaus… she loves you. Hera loves you. We've established that.

Yes. We have.

And you would have asked her to be your wife eventually, wouldn't you?

Of course I would. I'd have it no other way.

Then this is just speeding the process along, Vladislaus. Take what you need from her now and if you must save her from death, you can turn her at the last minute, and then she will truly be yours forever. You have nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. She is a woman, and a willing one at that. She is yours.

The phrase sounded deliciously sweet in his mind and his eyes darkened as a newfound purpose surged through him, that need, though no longer painful, still oh so present.

Mine, he thought to himself.

He began to ascend the stairs, the scent of his heat radiating from him in potent waves. The servants who had noticed his emergence from the room never raised a word of protest as he headed into the direction of Hera's bedchambers. They all sank into the shadows, frightened of the power that was coming from their master, the set purpose and savage hunger in his darkening eyes.

Every light that met his shadow was extinguished.

The warmth in the palace seemed to freeze over as he passed by.

Darkness surrounded him now.

Nothing but sinful, licentious darkness.

It was frightening, and it was beautiful.

He was coming for Hera now and nothing in heaven nor hell could stop him.