Eternal Night (I) Chapter 27: The Promise, a van helsing fanfic

Ah, Monday. We meet again.

All the thanks to Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, cneajna, Arwen17evenstar, and Riona Winters for the reviews over the weekend! Absolutely love you guys!

Today's chapter is mostly just an indulgent little interlude. It admittedly adds very little to the plot, but then again, maybe it does on some level, considering what develops between Francesca and Vladislaus near the end... I can confirm that the promise in question will come up again (and again) as the story progresses ;)

CW: sexual innuendo, but nothing crazy explicit. Just a whole lot of suggestion... Dracula is definitely upping his game in this one.

Chapter 27
The Promise

It was the weekend at last and the evening succeeding found Frankie at Carmen's once again. While her brother was busy hosting a celebratory event with the greater supporters of the alliance, Frankie was situated in her usual spot at the far end of the bar. Displayed on the screen of her laptop were a number of maps and digital charts of the palace and surrounding areas, and in very neat and legible script, she made hand-written notes in an otherwise nondescript notebook.

Despite the revelry going on about her, she remained focused on the task at hand, eyes fixed on the way the graphite tip of her pencil ran across the page, bringing her thoughts to life through sketches and succinct annotations. Taking a sip from her glass of blood-spiked whiskey as she reviewed her current outlines, she noticed Vesper climbing up onto the empty barstool beside her.

"I finished my algebra. Can I go watch the others play cards?"

"You'll have to ask Carmen if that's okay," Frankie answered absently.

Vesper grumbled something of her disapproval under her breath before growing intrigued by what the woman was reading.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm devising a plan. Can you grab that bottle over there?"

Vesper slipped out of the seat to follow-through with the entreaty.

"What kind of plan?" the girl continued.

"Do you remember Vivian? Isabella's sister?"

"Yeah, vaguely, I guess."

"Mr. Leinhart offered to break her free of the palace dungeons."

"Then why isn't he coming up with the plan?" Vesper asked incredulously, handing Frankie the requested bottle of whiskey.

"Because Miss Chase believes me to be incompetent," the man chimed in from behind, leaning over Frankie's shoulder to get a better look at her notes… or perhaps it was just because he enjoyed being close to her.

The explicit details of her most recent dream were still fresh in the woman's mind and it took everything in her to keep from appearing affected by his sudden proximity. Though God in heaven, that man was smelling especially divine this evening. She'd have to have a serious discussion with whoever was selling him his cologne.

"But between you and I, Vesper," he continued, "some jobs will always be done better by men."

"A man like you, perhaps?" Frankie asked, managing a sarcastic laugh. "Please! I gave you a chance to come up with a plan and they all included you making an unnecessary spectacle, which would have resulted in both of us getting captured or killed."

"I've always had an inherent flair for theatrics," he explained, not in the least bit ashamed. "Of course, the spectacle wouldn't have needed to be so unnecessary, as you've put it, if you were a bit more accommodating. Then my pride wouldn't be in constant need of resuscitation," he added teasingly before winking at the teenager on the other side of the counter. "Honestly, I don't know why you admire Miss Chase so. She's intolerably cruel."

Frankie could hear the mock-pout in his voice and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

"You must take some masochistic pleasure out of my abuse then, for you keep coming back for more," she pointed out and her faintly suggestive undertone was – thankfully – not lost to him.

"Perhaps the eternal optimist in me is hoping that one of these days, instead of this continuous verbal sparring of ours, we'll graduate to something that ends a bit more hands-on."

"I don't know, I've grown rather fond of our debates," she admitted, struggling to keep her eyes fixed on her work. The sight of his fingers was proving to be quite the distraction. "The encounters lend themselves a bit of welcomed consistency. No matter how terrible my day may be, at least I can always look forward to knocking you off that pedestal your ass always finds itself on."

"Or maybe you've come to enjoy my equally merciless repartee?" he said in low tones.

"Your retaliations…"

"Are what? Effective? Impressive?"

"Are lucky shots in the dark," was her retort and she sent him a side-long glance. He exhaled dramatically.

"You see what I mean, Vesper? Cruel and wicked. She won't even give me an ounce of credit for all the times I've managed to get under her skin."

"Did you come over here for a reason, sir, or do you linger for the sheer purpose of distracting me?" Frankie retorted now, not giving the teenager a chance to reply.

"I didn't know you found me so distracting," he answered, oozing innuendo. "Although, you do seem a bit on edge this evening, dragă. Anything I can do to help you?"

Frankie rolled her eyes at the pet name he insisted on using and Vesper, having silently watched this back-and-forth, decided to participate a little.

"She was already a bit out of it before you showed up. I think you just make it worse," the girl pointed out to the mortification of Frankie and the profound amusement of Vlad.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah… she gets all nervous and agitated when you…" and with a wave of Frankie's finger, Vesper's tongue stopped moving.

"That's enough out of you."

"Aww, come now. Let the girl speak!" Dracula insisted with that smug grin of his.

"She knows what will happen if she does," the woman said with a sharp look at Vesper, who, although she had received the ability to move her tongue again, kept her mouth effectively shut.

"I'm intrigued. I smell another secret, ladies. Vesper, what is she threatening you with?"

Vesper opened her mouth to explain but thought better of it and Dracula dared to pout.

"You two are no fun at all," he declared and Frankie, though amused, insisted on appearing indifferent to this playfulness of his.

"Mr. Leinhart, do me a favor and build a bridge."

"Why? So I can get over it?" he replied knowingly. "You're so witty this evening."

"Vlad! Are you in the next round or what?" Danny suddenly shouted from the other side of the room.

Though it was clear that he would have preferred to stay where he was, Dracula relented, motioning with his hand that he'd be over in a moment.

"Well, I shall distract you no longer," he announced before cheekily snatching the bottle of whiskey from her hand after she filled her glass and before she could protest, he smoothly made his exit, returning to the table where Rémy and the others sat.

When he was out of earshot, Frankie chided quietly,

"Vesper, I love you, but you really need to learn how to keep that mouth of yours shut."

"Yeah, okay. I'll do that as soon as you stop being such a shameless flirt," the girl replied without missing a beat and before the woman could offer a response, Vesper was gone.

Frankie muttered something under her breath as she returned to her studying and plotting. Unfortunately, before she could make any real headway, she was interrupted once more, this time by Carmen.

"I swear," the female exclaimed with a huff as she took a seat beside her friend, "don't get me wrong, I love Damon. He is so helpful and probably one of the brightest and sweetest guys I know, but the man is always reorganizing my stuff! I can't find anything!"

"Carmen," Frankie exhaled, a single push short from outright whining.

"I mean, he organized the alcohol in the cellar by type and brand. I had a perfectly good system before."

"Yes, that no one but you understood."

"But that was the beauty of it! Everything is so clean and tidy now... and anything I would normally be doing to fill up my time he's already done."

"Poor you, having an attractive in-house man-servant. My sympathies."

"Oh, stop being so sarcastic."

"My dear, you're a control-freak, and Damon picking up a fair chunk of your usual responsibilities without even needing to be asked is a good thing. I promise."

"I'm the control-freak? Says the woman who insisted on researching battle plans to break out Vivian instead of having the man in charge do the heavy lifting. Pot, have you met my friend kettle?"

"Shut up," she said with an affectionate smile.

"You're a workaholic, Frank."

"It keeps me from thinking too much."

"If you say so."

"You know, I could have just stayed home this evening to work on this…"

"Fine! All right, I can take a hint. I'll let you get back to your studying or whatever the hell it is you're doing." and Carmen stood up to leave.

"Thank you."

…

"Frankie, I don't know what to do," and suddenly Morene had taken the seat Carmen had just abandoned.

Upon this newest interruption, Frankie snapped her laptop shut and released a loud rush of air as she buried her face in her hands.

"God, please… I'm begging you…" she grumbled before collecting herself and turning to the newcomer with as much forbearance as she could muster. "What do you need, Morene?"

"It's Vlad. He's been so distant and distracted lately and I can't seem to get his attention no matter what I do."

"Maybe you should learn to take a gentle hint," she muttered impatiently under her breath, rubbing at the faint ache that had started to persist between her eyes.

"What hint?"

"Nothing. Just… tell me your problem so I can get back to work… please."

"It's just, you seem to know Vlad so well –"

"A burden that the universe insists I bear, it would seem."

"– and he's always talking to you and he never talks to me about anything and just… I thought there was something between us, you know? This connection and now I'm not so sure. We don't really have anything in common but he's so gorgeous and…" and this went on for another ten minutes.

By the end of it, Frankie was desperately struggling to keep her apathy as unobvious as possible. Morene continued on about how Vlad had never really kissed or slept with her, how he rarely paid any sort of attention to her anymore, and just when Frankie thought she could take it no more, the poor woman finally got to the point.

"And I just don't know how to start a conversation with him. What should I do, Frankie? You're so good at this advice thing and I'm always hearing Carmen and everyone else say how clever you are."

Though a bit amused by the compliment given their shared history, Frankie decided to take pity on her.

"To be perfectly honest, Morene, if you can't think of something to talk to him about, maybe that's a sign that you shouldn't be pursuing him anymore. Maybe you're just not compatible? There's nothing wrong with that," she offered delicately.

"But he is the one for me! I'm just in a rut… please, Frankie. Just give me a topic… I'm desperate for help."

"Oh… I don't know… ask him about… why don't you ask him what wars he's fought in, since he's so ancient."

"But that's so boring! Isn't there something else I can ask him about?"

"Forgive me, but is there something particular that you're looking for from me? I can't help you if you aren't specific."

"Give me something evocative, something that could easily be turned into something more, if you know what I mean," she replied with a very inappropriate wink.

Frankie nearly rolled her eyes.

"If you want sex, why don't you just ask him instead of being coy about it?" she asked a bit more irritably than she had intended. "You're a beautiful, experienced, confident woman, Morene, and I'm positive that Leinhart would be more than happy if you would stop dropping vague hints and just got to the point. Take charge. Tell him what you want."

"But I tried that once and then I overheard him say how he thinks there's nothing as off-putting as undignified desperation," she recited.

This time Frankie did roll her eyes.

If she had to listen to this for one minute longer…

Then it came to her.

"Why don't you try this – ask him about the art of kissing a lady's hand or something to that effect. I'm certain that will spark something. He'll have to demonstrate it of course…"

"Hand-kissing? But that's so… so chaste."

"Not as chaste as you might think," Frankie assured her, "and given not only his reputation, but his age – your interest would no doubt impress him."

"You think so?"

"If that doesn't work for you, Morene, then I don't know what will," she answered honestly. "Now then… as much as I've enjoyed our little heart-to-heart, would you please…" and she waved her hand in a "off with you now" kind of fashion. "I really do have a lot to get done."

"Oh, yes, of course," the woman said, standing. "Gosh, I hope this works! Thank you, Frankie… I never would have thought of this."

Though tempted to make a snide comment on that point, she chose to be silent and instead smiled as Morene finally left in search of Leinhart.

While relieved that she was finally left in peace, Frankie soon found herself distracted, unable to suppress the growing curiosity regarding how exactly Vlad might react to Morene's request. Deciding that the universe was against her and her efforts in focusing on the task at hand were therefore in vain, she carefully scanned her eyes about the room in a manner that wouldn't appear too conspicuous until she located the pair in question just a few yards away near the back hall.

"Why on earth do you want to know that?" Vlad had just asked Morene, honestly bewildered by her request and, for the briefest of moments, genuinely fascinated by it.

But when he noticed Frankie slyly observing them from across the room, it seemed to dawn on him what was going on. The craftiest of smiles curved his lips as he held his upturned palm out before an expectant Morene.

"Very well. First I will require your hand."

The woman was all bashful smiles and giggling. Frankie couldn't help but chuckle at the scene they were presenting. Placing her pencil down on the counter, she reached for her glass of whiskey and took a sip.

"Now then, before I begin I must tell you the first rule when in these particular instances. It is highly recommended that a man never, ever reach for a woman's hand. She must offer it to him, for if he takes it without her permission, he can be classified as unforgivably forward and conceited, and can, therefore, be subjected to whatever humiliation the woman sees fit to inflict upon him. Now, since I cued your hand by extending my own first, I am safe."

Morene's girlish titter became more persistent as he continued.

"The first degree of hand-kissing is also the most basic. I bend my head, but my lips never touch your hand. This is used in a courtly manner when two persons are first introduced." He performed with grace before continuing. "The second is when the lips touch the hand gently, often the back of the knuckles. This is used only between persons who already know one another. How long the lips linger can communicate different intentions – anything from I respect you to I care deeply for you."

He only demonstrated this act with a short kiss to her knuckles, and then he suddenly released her hand. Morene was evidently displeased by this, as Frankie had mentioned that the question could "spark" something and this certainly wasn't the kind of spark she had been hoping for. Even Francesca was a little surprised that he had just… well, stopped.

"Is that all? There aren't any more?"

"Well, of course there are more. They just tend to be performed between individuals in a more intimate relationship."

"Show me!" the woman insisted, offering her hand to him once again.

Frankie stifled a laugh, biting the inside of her cheek in an effort to conceal her amusement, but Dracula had already noticed it. Having confirmation that she had indeed set him up, his eyes narrowed a little in her direction as their gazes met fully. The delight in her countenance seemed to be outright challenging him.

Well then.

Two could play this game.

"Very well," he crooned, suavely taking Morene's hand as his voice and expression took on a much deeper tone. "If I kiss your palm, it implies extreme admiration." He did not demonstrate, but merely touched the tips of his fingers to the aforementioned spot. Evidently the caress was enough to leave Morene spellbound. "The wrist implies devotion." Another soft grazing of fingers to skin. "If I run the tip of my tongue over your palm it means I wish for a more intimate acquaintance." He barely traced over her lifeline with the side of his pinky. "And the last one can only be done if the man is certain the lady in question will not disembowel him."

"What?"

"Never mind, my dear."

"Will you show me the other ways?"

He smirked wickedly and released her hand.

"Perhaps another time. I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

Momentarily placated by the prospect of more in the future, Morene was suddenly light as a feather and she practically floated away with stars in her eyes as she disappeared in order to find Lily and tell her all about what had just transpired. The moment she was gone, Vladislaus met Frankie's gaze once more and was both pleased and surprised to find she did not shy away from his scrutiny.

"Well then, how did I do? I hope my performance was to your satisfaction since it was you, I assume, who implanted that idea into her head," he said after making his way over to her with his arms folded across his chest.

"Your explanations were adequate, I suppose," she remarked with a sly grin. "As to the rest, however, I'd say your performance left much to be desired."

Affronted, yet undeniably intrigued by this new game he found himself playing with her, he continued to advance, leaning against the bar counter when he had reached the place where she continued to sit.

"Pray tell, what have I done to warrant such a harsh critique?"

"The first two demonstrations were tolerable enough, but the intimate ones you avoided doing altogether. Yes, you may have caressed the places with your finger, but there was no feeling in your expression, no depth, no ardor or passion. Though I will be the first to admit that you are a very talented actor, there was a sense of forced interest in your countenance; visibly illustrating to even an untrained eye your general disinterestedness for not only Morene but the entirety of the situation in general. Your descriptions were purely textbook, which suggests to me that you may know of a thing, but you do not have any practical experience. In fact, after that performance, I sincerely doubt whether or not you could pull them off at all."

Her disparagements were delivered with a hyperbolic kind of haughtiness that amused him more than anything else. In fact, the longer she went on, the more dark and suggestive his gaze seemed to become. When she finished, the way in which he ran his eyes up and down her figure was blatant and shameless. It didn't take much imagination to guess what was on his mind.

"I am admittedly out of practice, but in my defense, I have had no woman worthy enough to aid in honing my skill. Would you do me the great honor of obliging me?" he purred as he extended his hand, waiting. "I have no doubt that under your tutorage, my performance will be met with the utmost satisfaction in no time."

Frankie studied his upturned palm for a private moment as the recollection of her most recent dream returned to the forefront of her mind. The man had beautiful hands – large and strong, with long fingers that seemed to go on for days and well manicured nails. Even his cuticles were well kempt, moisturized. But they were a man's hands, and her body quickly remembered what those digits had done to her in that scorching fantasy she had had the day before. She nearly blushed at the thought.

"I'm afraid I must decline," she said at last with overstated elegance, hoping it was enough to distract him from the lust that was undoubtedly burning in her eyes. "And since I have not offered you my hand, you must endure my rejection once more. Please do extend my apologies to your pride. I fear the damages it continues to sustain are becoming quite copious."

With a playful smile and an exaggerated curtsy, she gathered her things into her arms and made her way out of the room toward the kitchen where she would surely find more peace and quiet. She shut the door behind her with a bit of a sigh, pleased with herself for how she had so masterfully declined the temptation for further flirtation and oh how she wished she could see his stunned expression in the face of her rejection.

But her victorious solitude was short lived, as the instant she put her computer and notebook down on the counter, she heard the door open behind her. Turning to face the source of this latest intrusion, she discovered Vlad standing before her, a look of utter determination on his face.

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," she began, but was immediately silenced when his hand snatched hers and with a light tug, she was forced to stand closer to him. The heat of his sudden nearness sent a slight gasp slipping from between her lips, but before she could utter a word of protest, she watched with mute fascination as he brought her hand up to his mouth. When she felt his lips press against her knuckles, any words of rebuke she had possessed were gone.

After once kissing her knuckles, he kissed them again, only firmer this time, longer and in earnest, before turning her hand over and delicately pressing his lips against the inside of her wrist and then her open palm. Frankie could have sworn she felt her heart flutter to life at the contact and her breath stopped. Then he licked his lips while flattening her palm a bit more, lightly pushing her fingers back. While delicately running the tip of his tongue over her lifeline, his breath bathed her hand in a coolness that brought every nerve-ending in her body sparking to life.

He held her gaze the entire time, pupils blown, the thin ring of his irises glowing faintly.

When he had finished reverently worshipping her palm, the man finally flipped her hand back over.

For a brief instant, Frankie thought he was finished until she felt his thumb press between her index and middle fingers, urging them apart somewhat before raising the hand back to his lips. With the tip of his tongue, he licked between the two fingers on the web, lightly at first, and then once more with a little more force before bringing his lips around the small space and sucking silently on the little bit of flesh once, twice, before lightly wiggling the tip of his tongue against the thin stretch of skin.

Frankie visibly quivered in response, knowing exactly what it was he meant by that and she felt something warm and liquid melt and then bloom between her legs in reply. The final teasing flick of his tongue between her fingers she could have sworn she felt between her legs as well, as if he had lightly lashed it against her clit, and she only just barely managed to suppress the soft moan that had near escaped her parted lips.

At last, he was done, and he folded his other hand over her own as if to seal all of the unspoken declarations and promises he had just made, still boldly holding her gaze. The pair stood there in silence for a moment or two until his mouth curled into a slow, lethal smile.

Dracula could not recall a more gratifying sight.

Francesca's pupils were blown, black melting into a hypnotic swirl of glowing purple iris, her fangs extended in arousal, lips lightly parted. A gentle flush had heated her cheeks, already spreading down her throat to her chest. She looked absolutely delicious.

"Well, it appears I have finally discovered a way of rendering you speechless," he purred darkly, voice deep and teasing. Vlad leaned forward, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against hers. Frankie braced herself for a kiss, but it never came. Instead, the rogue whispered in his native tongue, "That wasn't a threat or a warning, Francesca. It was a promise; one that I have every intention of keeping."

When he was finished, he kissed her hand once again and then made his exit, leaving the woman alone – breathless, dumbstruck, and dangerously aroused.

The woman stood there in the center of the room for nearly five whole minutes without uttering a single syllable or moving an inch. Her entire body was thrumming with desire, as if his lips had been a match, and her hand the kindling that would set her whole soul ablaze. His tongue, his mouth, his eyes, and his words had short-circuited her brain, and she only managed to find her voice again when Carmen abruptly entered, shrieking in surprise when she nearly ran into her friend.

"Frank, what the hell are you doing standing in the middle of the room like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!" But when she saw the glossed over look in the female's eyes, her surprise turned to concern. "Hey, are you okay?"

Frankie opened her mouth speak, but no words came to mind except an utterly bewildered, "I have no idea."