Many thanks to the golden trio for reviewing over the weekend! - Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, and inkmagpie. You three are absolute MVPs and the main reason why I'm even making the effort to update today, because let me tell you, I almost didn't (I feel like I didn't even get a weekend, I am so physically, mentally, and emotionally drained... *need for a proper vacation intensifies*)
So all the thanks to those three ladies for being so damn awesome and reliable and supportive. I adore you guys.
Another person discovers Dracula's identity in this chapter... which means we're about to get another individual added to the ranks of meddlesome matchmakers, lol! So there's that...
ENJOY!
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 7
The Art of Discontentment
A few evenings later found Frankie seated in the alliance war room.
There had been a heated discussion going on between the various members of their band of rebels for some time now, all trying to agree upon the next course of action when it came to the threat of a resurgence of the anti-vampire virus. The last few nights had been filled with seemingly endless sessions of dedicated strategy as the core members poured over three-dimensional holographic maps of the factory district while reviewing sentry plans, security details, the number of people the Spider's men had abducted in the last year, where they were housed, what they would do if any of them were still alive.
The group had been quick to put together a series of plans of how to go about their upcoming venture, who would join in on the action, what weaponry they would bring, where they would retreat to if things went awry. But the room proved consistently divided on which course to take the longer they reviewed their options.
Rémy led the discussion night after night, eager to finalize a strategy quickly instead of going one more evening with the current threat still in existence. But while everyone else seemed fully engaged in the conversation, his sister had been mostly quiet – maybe even a little distracted. Unbeknownst to all, her mind had become more agreeably engaged with that of the man seated at the other end of the table.
Frankie and Vlad hadn't really had a moment alone since the events of a few nights prior when she had paid a visit to the Spider. And due to this general lack of one-on-one interaction, she found herself falling prey to old habits as she began to question the motives behind his present behavior. The man was sociable enough, always considerate of her whenever she entered a room, but beyond the usual pleasantries, it was as if Dracula had suddenly made the decision to keep his distance from her and it left Frankie wondering why.
For instance, when she had arrived earlier that evening, she had been surprised to find the man there before her, already engaged in conversation with Danny and Damon – Carmen's in-home security detail and now close friend. Their eyes had met for a moment when she had first arrived and the air that had passed between herself and his majesty had been pure electricity – the distance between them only seeming to intensify that tension. But unlike before, when he would have slyly excused himself in order to engage with her, he had remained rooted to the spot, guarded, restrained, with just the twinge of indifference – or perhaps she had imagined that last part.
He had nodded in acknowledgement of her presence upon her arrival, of course, but that had been all.
Frankie was surprised at her own reaction to his sudden lack of open interest, astonished that she should care so much. As she had watched him carry on in his discussion, she couldn't help but wonder if the man knew.
Was he doing this on purpose?
Was this part of some new game, a strategy – to make her crave his attention while denying her the pleasure?
Was this a ploy to get her to bend to his will and come to him?
If so, she was loathed to admit it was working; and while a small part of her resented him for it, she could not deny the cleverness of the strategy (if it was indeed such a thing). Frankie had often applied similar techniques in her own days as the dominant and manipulative la sirène.
Leave them wanting… make them come to you, her maker had taught her.
It was strange to be suddenly on the receiving end of such Machiavellian practices – but that was only if the intentions behind his behavior matched her assumptions. Frankie recognized that there was a very good chance that her own conflicted interest, sexual frustration, and general state of mild insecurity could have her projecting … but what if she was right? What if he was trying to manipulate her? Were his actions as calculated as she believed?
Not knowing for sure was exhausting.
There was at least one thing she was certain of – their time apart had changed him.
The more mischievous and teasing nature Frankie had been previously exposed to had been exchanged for quiet confidence, control, and cordiality. Where he had been more passive in the matters surrounding the alliance, he was now actively engaged.
Even now, he appeared completely absorbed in the conversation that was taking place, his attention always fixed on whomever was speaking; whereas she seemed incapable of focusing on anything outside of stealing glances at him, even if he wasn't speaking.
It was rather fascinating, witnessing Dracula taking such an invested interest in the topic at hand.
She could still recall how once she had taken offence on her brother's behalf when Vlad had declared he allowed Rémy to lead. She was beginning to see the validity to the claim now. Frankie had never seen the man so vocal before. In fact, Dracula appeared to be taking it upon himself to question every plan that was brought to the table as if the final decision was his to make – a mode of thinking that was probably more instinct than anything else.
At first, his merciless cross-examination of the earlier proposals had been greatly appreciated, allowing the company to effectively weed out weaker strategies and suggestions. But by the fourth night, Frankie could see that Rémy had grown particularly weary of Vlad's constant questioning, and while she sympathized with her brother's plight, she was finding it increasingly difficult to come to his aid or defense.
Especially when the arguments of her betrothed were so convincing.
For the first time in her life, Frankie was starting to see their king – her king – in a new and proper light and it made holding onto those old preconceived notions of him damn near impossible.
"I am still of the opinion that going in so close to sunset is foolish," Vlad maintained, this debate between himself and Frankie's brother having been going on for some time now.
"How is going in while the sun is still up foolish?" Rémy insisted. "The vast majority of the city's population is still endangered by the light of the sun. By that logic, the Spider would never expect a vampire attack during the day – which means those on sentry would have to be mortal and are, therefore, of no threat to us! We neutralize the guards here, here, and here," and he pointed to the different locations on the three-dimensional holographic map on the table, "and it's an easy in-and-out job! We disable the security system, do a quick sweep for survivors, rescue those that are still alive – if there are any – and we dispose of the rest when we torch the place."
"But what about the infected blood?" Dracula interjected. "Even if the plan you've proposed could be carried out without any disruptions, you still haven't addressed how you plan to neutralize the actual threat to the city."
"He's right, Rémy," Frankie chimed in, much to the chagrin of her brother and the surprise of not only Vladislaus, but to both Lyra and Carmen as well, the two females exchanging looks.
"Oh come on, Frank – not you too!"
"The whole reason we're doing this in the first place is to avoid another outbreak like the one a few decades back," she reminded him and in a tone that could only be described as purely rational. "And even if we could find a way to destroy all of that contaminated hemo without having it leak out into the city or into the sewer systems below, that still doesn't change the fact that your itinerary doesn't give us much time to do anything effectively. I mean, taking care of the survivors alone..."
"Another reason why I think we should do it earlier in the day," Vlad interrupted, sending Frankie an appreciative nod for her support. "The extra time would help in eliminating the chance for error."
"But we're more likely to get noticed during that hour, which is why around sunset is better," Rémy said. "We'd be getting closer to the end of the mortal's shift, which means they'll be less alert and we'd have the cover of darkness on our way out! I don't see why we're even still arguing about this."
"Because there's not enough turnaround time to get the job done with the care it deserves," Frankie explained patiently.
"Which increases our margin for error," Dracula agreed, trying not to appear too pleased that the woman was taking his side in this. "I can see the merits of your plan, Rémy, but there's too much risk involved. You yourself said at the start of this that you wanted to make sure we played our hand right – that no one would get caught in the cross-fire if violence broke out."
"And the plan I propose guarantees everyone's safety!"
"But you cannot know that for certain. I'm not doing this to demean or discredit your authority… but you need to consider the very real possibility that this could go awry very quickly. I am only trying to help you see…"
"Clearly we've been at this too long," Carmen announced rather abruptly, standing from her seat at Frankie's side. Evidently, the woman had reached her limit watching the man she secretly adored getting ganged-up on for the second time this week, only this time by his sister and his best friend. The woman's strategic interruption proved welcomed by most in attendance, anyway – the whole lot of tem looking rather worn out. "Why don't we call it an evening and return tomorrow with fresh eyes, hmm?"
"Best idea I've heard all night!" Danny proclaimed, standing as well, followed shortly by Lyra and a few of the others. "Rémy, come on – I'll grab the poker chips. Carmen, why don't you break out that new brew you were telling me about the other night?"
It was evident by the conversation of silent looks that passed between both Rémy and Vlad that this discussion was far from over, but with a heavy sigh released to dispel some of the tension, Frankie's brother relented and began to make his way to the door where Danny was waiting for him.
"Very well. Frankie, are you coming?" he asked, turning to glance at his sister who was still seated at the table, her eyes fixed on the holographic projection in front of her.
"Yes, shortly. I need to decompress."
"Fair enough. Vlad? What about you?"
"I'll join you in a moment. I too could use a minute to myself," Dracula answered cordially, though he couldn't seem to keep from stealing glances at the man's sister on the other end of the room.
"Hey, I get it. And I hope you know I'm not angry with you or anything…"
"I know. There are no hard feelings – just a differing of opinion," Vlad offered reassuringly. Rémy smiled, relieved that they could still be friends despite their disagreements as he patted the man on the shoulder in passing. On his way out, however, he paused to look back, studying his friend and his sister for just an instant.
For the first time ever, Rémy thought he saw something pass between the two still seated at the table; an unspoken, inexplicable sort of intensity that entered the room once the majority of the company had retreated to the front to drink, play cards, and socialize. Though Frankie and Vlad never really looked directly at one another, Rémy was sensing something strained, suppressed even – try as they might to conceal it.
But before he could think on it further, Damon came up beside him and wrapped his arm around Rémy's shoulders before engaging him in conversation and leading him out into the hall.
The door remained open, the room empty save Dracula and his intended.
The two were silent as the female struggled to focus on the map in front of her, whereas the man was now free to study her openly without fear of being caught.
Frankie was seated at the opposite end of the table, arms folded over her chest as she leaned back in her chair, eyes fixed on what was in front of her, and yet she seemed to be struggling to keep her attention forward.
After a few moments in the oppressive silence, Dracula stood, the movement sending an odd jolt of excitement through the woman as he began to approach. She was desperate to appear unaffected by him as he took a seat on the edge of the table in front of her, but there was a rush of warmth that overcame her at his nearness and she almost smiled, wondering if he knew exactly what he was doing, what his presence did to her.
Frankie tried not to look at him, knowing that if she did, her resolve would crumble even more than it already had, but she couldn't help herself. She was immediately pulled into those soul destroying eyes of his, that staggering blue like a vast ocean of depth and implicit feeling and something about him made her feel weak and helpless in the best way.
"You know, I haven't had a moment to really speak with you since that evening after the incident in the east side," he commented. "How have you been faring the last few days?"
Frankie became aware of an involuntary tremor that shuddered pleasurably through her at the sound of his voice, and her body's reaction to the undivided attention he was now giving her had the female forcing herself to look away – afraid that if she looked for too long that he'd see right through her.
"Well enough, I suppose," she replied with gentle confidence. "I've had a lot on my mind lately."
"Anything I can do to help alleviate that?"
The words themselves were harmless enough, but their delivery had an underlying suggestiveness to it and Frankie touched her face in a subconscious effort to conceal the faint blush she was certain had appeared in her cheeks.
Oh, there was so much he could do to "alleviate" the chaos in her mind.
Kissing her would be an excellent place to start… perhaps she could remind him of the promise he had made her almost eight months ago in the kitchen when he had kissed her hand, but she quickly banished the thought, fearful that he would somehow see inside her mind and behold the frightening lust of her heart.
What a fool she had been, thinking they could be just friends; not when deep down she desired them to be something entirely different.
When they had kissed, they had opened a door, and even after all the time that had passed since, Frankie still couldn't seem to get it closed again. The acknowledgment of their physical attraction lingered like an elephant in the room – a constant reminder of what both secretly desired. Yet, all of the suppression in the world couldn't seem to change what Frankie found herself feeling, try as she might to talk herself out of it.
"Sadly, I can't think of anything," she lied with a half-convincing smile, standing so she could put some distance between them in some vain hope that it would help relieve her suffering. But when she rose from her chair, it only put them in closer proximity to one another and her thigh brushed against his when she passed.
"I am sorry to hear that," he confessed, sounding sincere as he watched her move away slowly. "If there is anything I can do…"
"I'll be sure to let you know," she finished, switching off the holographic projector on the table in an effort to appear busy.
With the piece of technology off, however, the room had immediately darkened, growing more intimate. Isolating. Frankie desperately tried to keep herself together, but it proved quite the struggle.
It would be so easy to will the door shut, to materialize in front of him, to push him back onto the table so she could crawl up into his lap and put an end to this agonizing sexual tension.
But Frankie remained rooted to the spot, determined to maintain her sense of self-control. And yet, she could have sworn she could feel him calling to her in the silence, as if his very soul were reaching for her own. Despite her best attempts to appear indifferent, Frankie could feel something unseen in herself reaching back for him.
His stare was intense, though not at all unpleasant to be under.
Every ounce of his attention was fixed on her person, undivided; his expression remained unchanged, anticipating, as if he were waiting patiently for something – perhaps for her to make the next move? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that when she dared to meet his gaze she couldn't bring herself to pull away from it.
He was the very epitome of masculine perfection, seated casually on the edge of the table, trousers tailored to perfection, the sleeves of his dress-shirt rolled up to his elbows, toned forearms exposed, those first few top buttons undone. And his consideration of her – unwavering. Everything about the man drew her in, from the carefully guarded yearning in his eyes, to the way his hands now rested on the table's edge at his side. There was a deliberate pause of uncertainty in the air that surrounded him, and then a flash of decision as he then rose from his seated position.
He moved to face her more fully now and the earth seemed to still as he took a single step in her direction, his expression and body language inviting her to do the same. Frankie could sense it straightaway, the way every particle in her body demanded she obey his silent bidding, the magnetic pull incomprehensible and illogical… and yet, on some deep, primal level, it made perfect sense.
She was about to submit to her more base instincts, to take that single step forward in some unconscious sign of surrender when Carmen entered the room.
"Ah! Frank… there you are!" her friend exclaimed, eyes darting between the pair who had lingered behind. "What are you still doing in here?"
Frankie had visibly startled upon the interruption, but even after the initial shock had passed, she remained strangely mute.
"I was just helping Miss Chase clean up," Dracula explained casually in an effort to keep things from getting any more awkward and he turned to greet the woman with a charming smile.
"Well thanks for saving me the trouble," Carmen replied, her cheery disposition never fading, though her eyes continued to bounce back and forth between the pair in growing wariness. "Anyway, Frankie, I need to borrow you for a few so we can talk about this weekend. If we're going to France with you and Rémy, we're going to need to work through a couple of things."
The mention of France caught Vlad's attention as he turned back to glance at Miss Chase, sending her a peculiar look.
"You and your brother are leaving the country?" he repeated with what casual indifference he could muster.
Carmen nodded, supposedly thinking nothing of it.
"Yeah – right after we take care of the blood factory, which is why Rémy's been so eager lock down on a plan so we can get it done before they head out."
"But I thought getting out of the city was impossible? Especially given the account of your aunt's death."
"The werewolves have a tunnel they've been using for years," Frankie explained, having found her voice again. "They usually let us use it during the summer months so my brother and I can visit our relatives, but the arrangement had altered that year after Tristan and I split. Isabella was gracious enough to reinstate that portion of the truce after what happened. She took my deceit a great deal harder than her brother did."
"I see. And, um, how long will you be gone?"
"About ten weeks or so, this time around, right?" Carmen replied, looking to her friend for confirmation.
Frankie merely nodded, suddenly intrigued by the expression Vladislaus was wearing.
He seemed… strangely taken off guard by the news.
Maybe even a little wounded by it – or was that worry? She couldn't be sure.
"Carmen, I just remembered I have another one of my interviews tomorrow for that…" and she glanced over at Vlad for just a moment, "that thing I've been working on and I still have some preparations to take care of beforehand. Can we talk particulars later?"
"Sure thing, hon. Are you leaving now?"
"Yes, I think it might be best. If I stay here anymore, I won't get anything done tonight."
The words were delivered with a degree of mirth that belied her true feelings. Carmen remained all smiles and understanding, playing ignorant to the obvious look of intensity coming from the man's direction on the other side of the room.
"No, no – of course. I understand. Probably a good thing I called an end to our meeting tonight when I did."
"Yes, I know Rémy appreciated it. Well, I better get going. Goodnight," and she quickly made her way passed Vlad before stopping in the doorway to hug her friend. Frankie knew she should have kept walking, but she couldn't resist one last look back at the man. "Goodnight, Mr. Leinhart."
Before he could properly react or respond, the woman made her exit, leaving Dracula both stunned by the news of her upcoming departure and a bit miffed that her friend had interrupted them in the first place. His expression gave no indication of his true feelings, however.
But Carmen Guillermo was no fool.
Though still very ignorant of the particulars, she had seen the way Frankie had been looking at Vlad the last few days, fully cognizant of the tension between them – the unconscious exchange of longing, the way the two seemed to be existing on the fringes of some soul-devouring passion that she couldn't even begin to fully fathom.
Because of this, the moment Frankie was gone, Carmen turned, eyeing Rémy's friend with suspicion.
"Alright. What is going on between you two?" she asked rather brusquely.
"What, with Miss Chase?" the man asked innocently. "Nothing that I'm aware of. Why?"
Carmen's eyes narrowed in his direction.
Stepping fully into the room, she shut the door behind her and stood in front of it, blocking his only exit as she folded her arms over her chest in a show of defiance.
"Try again," she demanded.
Dracula chuckled, amused by her paltry display of dominance.
The woman had no idea…
"Carmen, I commend you for your sense of loyalty to your friend, but I assure you, whatever it is you think is between Miss Chase and I is merely a figment of your imagination."
"Bullshit," she shot back without missing a beat, boldly making her way over to him, nothing but the fiercest determination in her eyes. "Rémy might be totally oblivious, but I am not. I know there's something going on between you and Frankie."
A little perturbed by how the woman had confrontationally gotten in his face, Dracula chose to remain stoic.
"Is that so? And what exactly do you imagine is going on between us? Has she confessed to such a thing?"
"Of course she hasn't," Carmen replied. "I may have been born at night, but it certainly wasn't last night. I could smell it on you two after we got back from Scarlet a few months ago, and then you disappeared right after and she wasn't the same."
"My absence was not related in any way to Miss Chase," he lied with ease, but he knew the instant the words had left his mouth that the woman could see right through his falsehood.
"Oh please, don't insult me. Frankie might not tell me everything that goes on in her personal life, but I've been around long enough to know the signs. I know something happened between you two."
"Nothing happened," he maintained, but his caustic dismissal only infuriated her more and Carmen grabbed him by the front of his shirt so he'd be forced to look her in the eye.
"Listen, pal… I don't take kindly to being lied to. I'll put up with it when Frankie does it, but hell better be frozen over if you think I'll let you get away with that."
Affronted that she had been so bold as to lay her hands on him and already on edge by the woman's earlier interruption, Dracula's guard slipped without him realizing it. His stare was hard as he took the Carmen's slender wrists in his hands, forcing her to release him as his true nature flooded the air around them.
"You will unhand me, madam."
Carmen's dark eyes went wide – at first in recognition and then horror as she realized who was standing in front of her.
Dracula.
The man was quick to realize his error, and while his face never betrayed any acknowledgment of the revelation of his true identity, internally he was berating himself for losing his cool so easily.
"Oh my God," Carmen declared with a shuddering breath and he watched as she began to rapidly connect the dots in her mind and when he was certain the woman had made the connection between his presence here and his evident interest in her friend, she repeated the declaration with a little more gusto, pulling her wrists out of his hands. "OH MY GOD!"
As anticipated, Carmen turned to make a run for the door, but Dracula was quicker and she was terrified to discover his hand holding it shut when she tried to pull it open.
"FRANKIE! Frankie, ru-" she began to shout, until a strong hand fell over her mouth and she was pushed back against the door, pinned between it at the man in front of her. Carmen was seeing Mr. Leinhart with new eyes and given all of the stories she had heard and the things she had witnessed, a part of Dracula could understand her fear.
Understanding, however, was not the same as tolerance.
"You will be silent," he commanded.
Carmen's dark eyes were all fire and he could hear her response in his mind.
I most certainly will not!
"I do not wish to harm you, Miss Guillermo, but if you do not desist this instant, I will have to use force."
Fuck you, Dracula! Oh my God, you're Dracula… I can't believe you're Dracula! Shit, shit shit… Let me go! Let me go!
"Carmen!" he barked in her face, growing impatient. He immediately regretted raising his voice, sensing a shift in the air outside the room as someone beyond heard him. He took a short breath to steady himself before he looked directly into her eyes. "Carmen, I need you to calm down."
Why are you here? What do you want with us? If you hurt Rémy or Frankie, I swear to God, I'll…
"I have no intention of harming anyone," he assured her in a much softer voice, his hand still over her mouth. "Especially Francesca."
You know who she is, don't you?
Upon hearing her query in his mind, Dracula felt something shift inside of him.
Carmen watched as the look in his eyes altered and what she saw there caused her to calm down some, her struggle against him waning.
"Yes," he confirmed, the word barely even a whisper. "I've known for some time."
She knows about you, doesn't she? That's why you were gone… she told you to leave.
"Yes," he said once again. "She asked me to go and I respected her wishes."
Then why did you come back?
"Because Rémy said it was urgent. As much as I respect Francesca, I could no longer neglect my duty to my people, nor could I ignore my friend in his need."
And Frankie is okay with this? Her inner voice sounded rather incredulous.
"From what she's told me, yes. Now… are you ready to use that tongue of yours with civility or would you prefer I keep my hand over your mouth?" he asked a little archly.
Although Carmen knew the true identity of the man before her, that familiar hint of teasing in his expression was the same one she knew Vlad Leinhart wore. It made it easier to come to terms with the fact that the two were indeed one in the same. She nodded, accepting his offer and he slowly removed his hand, though he continued to hold the door at her back shut.
"There," he said softly. "That's better."
"I can't believe you're… well, you," Carmen said at last. "And that Frankie knows! She's known for almost a year and she never said a word…"
"Don't be quick to judge Francesca too harshly," he interjected. "Although I'm still working at acquiring all of the details, our time apart has granted me the perspective I need to better understand her hesitance to commit – at least in part."
"You mean the prophecy of Marie Laveau."
"Mariella Bernardini, actually, but yes – that prophecy," he corrected.
"So you and Frankie… you both know who the other is, what is meant to happen," Carmen stated.
"That's mostly accurate," Dracula admitted. "There has been no open acknowledgment or confirmation between us. I know who she is, but she does not know that I know. Likewise, she knows my true identity, but she also remains ignorant of the fact that I'm aware of that as well. In her mind, she is convinced that I remain utterly in the dark."
"Why haven't you told her you know? In fact, why haven't you told any of us who you actually are? Why the charade?"
"Given your previous reaction, can you blame me for my discretion?" he asked a little cheekily. Her look of shame was response enough. "Miss Guillermo… Carmen… there is nothing I want more than for Francesca to openly acknowledge the truth of our present situation, but she isn't ready. Her rejection of me eight months ago proved that. Believe me, I'd prefer to handle things differently…"
"What? You mean push and prod until she buckles under you?" Carmen asked a little curtly, and while she had a point – his reputation did suggest that that would be his desired method – he sent her a disapproving look.
"I like to think I have a little bit more respect for her than the picture you're presently painting of me would suggest."
Carmen huffed.
"Sorry… habit."
"I am not ignorant of the general disdain and prejudice people have when it comes to my character. Some of my past actions and my grossly hyperbolic reputation certainly make it easy for all of you. But there is more to me than my supposed infamy suggests and I would appreciate at least a modicum of doubt before you give way to all you've heard. I am still the same man you've known for nearly a year now, Carmen. The only thing that has changed is my name."
"If you were anyone else, then yeah… sure. I could work with that. But you're Dracula, Vlad. You're… you."
"And do your preconceived notions of me align with what you what you know me to be?" he asked.
She pondered that for a moment.
"Not entirely, no… but how am I to know what is really you and what is Vlad Leinhart? How am I supposed to trust you?"
Dracula sighed.
"Unfortunately, I have no ready answer to offer you," he admitted. "But I do know that Francesca has chosen to grant me the benefit of the doubt. She has also kept my true identity a secret and I hope you will grant me the same courtesy."
"I still don't get why she would keep that from me… from Rémy, too!"
"Her reasons are her own," the man explained patiently. "As for myself, I have chosen to respect her prudence, even if I don't quite understand the need for this pretense."
"I don't get it either," Carmen confessed, relaxing now. "But given how confusing all of this must be for her, I suppose it makes a little sense. She probably wants the chance to come to her own conclusions without Rémy freaking out and everyone watching or pressuring her. I guess in her mind, keeping it quiet allows her the chance to deal with things on her own terms."
"I had suspected as much but did not wish to assume. What she and I have before us is not something that should be taken lightly. It speaks greatly of her character, the fact that she's chosen to approach this with caution and care. Even if her present pace is admittedly a little maddening."
"She has a right to be cautious. It's her heart – not any of ours. And then there's the fact that every vampire she's ever been with in the last two hundred or so years has ended up dead if they weren't kicked to the curb beforehand. She's told you about her blood condition, right?"
"No. We have yet to have that conversation. I had to hear it from someone else."
"Rémy?"
"No, but that doesn't matter. The point is I am aware of the dangers that come with being with Miss Chase."
"Given your cavalier attitude, it seems to me that you don't know the whole of it," Carmen pointed out rather bluntly.
"I know that her blood acts as a corrosive agent when it comes in contact with undead flesh."
"And that alone doesn't bother you?"
"I am no mere nosferatu, you'll recall. The usual threats to our kind often don't affect me."
"The usual threats weren't scientifically engineered with you in mind."
Dracula's brows furrowed a little at that.
He knew that there was more to the story of Miss Chase than what he had been made privy to, but the full picture had always eluded him.
He would have pressed Carmen for more, but he could hear Rémy calling for her from the front of the bar. Their time together was about to be cut short.
"Well, if the opportunity ever presents itself, it's a risk I'm going to have to take."
"You'd risk your own destruction, not to mention the possible destruction of our kind – of Rémy, Frankie, me… all of us. You'd risk the demise of an entire species just to be blood-bound to her, on the off-chance her blood didn't kill you the second it touches your lips?"
He opened his mouth to retort, instinct and his own innate sense of superiority readying him to declare that he would risk the fate of the entire world to possess what he wanted, but Carmen's phrasing forced him to take pause, to reflect.
It was true, his own destruction could possibly lead to the extinction of every vampire that walked the earth – whether they had been created directly by him or not. That is why when he had been reborn as the monster that he was now, Lilith had instated certain fail safes to ensure his longevity. He may have been one of the most feared and hunted creatures in all of existence, but at least he was immune from mortal danger.
It's why being one of his blood-bound sire-lings was such an honor – to taste of the dragon's blood was to taste true immortality, or the closest thing to it. But there could only be one Dracul, only one true king of the undead, and if he were ever to perish, the rest would be condemned to follow.
Whether they wanted to or not.
It was not something Vladislaus could take lightly, as much as he may have wished he could.
"I comprehend what is at stake," he said at last, rewarding her calm and rational behavior by granting her a little more space as he took a step back. "Better than anyone. But until I find the means of circumventing the obstacles before me, all I can do is strive to be worthy of her trust and then proceed from there."
That seemed to satisfy the woman and at this natural lull in the conversation, Carmen quietly processed the revelations that had just taken place. Dracula waited for her verdict, for he had to be certain his secret would never leave the room they were now in, but they were running out of time. Rémy had shouted Carmen's name again from the front room and it would be any moment now before the man would actually get up to go look for them.
Vladislaus looked at the woman before him expectantly.
"Vlad… or Dracula, whatever I'm supposed to call you."
"Vlad is fine," he assured her.
"Okay… Vlad," she said with a newfound sense of deliberation. "I want you to tell me the truth – did something happen that night after we got back from Scarlet? Something between you and Frankie?"
"I don't see how that's any of your business…"
"Just answer the question."
Once more, Dracula scowled a little, clearly displeased with her continued belligerence, despite her knowing who he truly was. Although in any other situation, he would have disregarded her question and instead demanded the respect his station deserved, in this instance he chose to take a leap of faith. He knew firsthand the kind of influence the word of a friend could have on a woman, and so he yielded to her request – though the devil knew he had little desire to do so.
"Yes, something happened between us that evening," he relented, "though I will maintain that the particulars are none of your concern." She looked a little disappointed by that, but Carmen nodded in acceptance, waiting for him to continue. "The following evening, when we crossed paths again, something in her had changed. She demanded – quite emphatically – that I stay my distance and so I did."
"But why? Why didn't you fight for her?"
"It's complicated." That clearly wasn't good enough for Carmen, but before she could persist further, he continued, "What matters is that I'm here now trying to rectify the situation."
"So I noticed. You didn't exactly refuse to go with her the other night."
"I've come to learn that Francesca and I tend to do better when there aren't dozens of eyes watching every move we make," he said pointedly. "Besides, anything that takes place between she and I is our business and ours alone; and considering that she has yet to divulge any details regarding our relationship to the rest of you, I think it's safe to assume she feels as I do."
"So wait… you two are already together then?"
"I didn't say that."
"You said relationship."
"I meant that in broader terms."
"But you're actively pursuing her… and she's receptive?"
"Our time apart proved to be a struggle for us both, but I'm doing what I can to make up for the lost time while maintaining a certain level of discretion. It's difficult – as I'm sure you've noticed – getting that woman to let go of her armor and her fear. Hell, even getting her alone for more than five minutes has proven a challenge. And now that she's leaving for France at the end of the week, who knows what walls she'll have up when she gets back."
Dracula of course had divulged these private concerns of his intentionally.
He knew that if he could acquire Carmen's sympathy, her good nature could perhaps be used to his advantage. He only hoped that he'd be able to see the fruits of his labors sooner rather than later. Time would tell.
The sound of Rémy heading down the hall promised an end to any further conversation the two could have had.
"I must insist that you keep this conversation between us to yourself for the time being," Dracula said softly. "Francesca cannot know what I have told you, and I think you know what the implications would be if her brother found out."
"No, I understand," she said. "I give you my word."
But for all her virtues, Vlad knew from previous moments of eavesdropping that the Spaniard wasn't always the most discrete.
"I wish that could be enough," he said. He then grabbed her abruptly by the throat, startling her, before staring directly into her eyes so he could ensnare her will before she could effectively fend him off. "As your king, I command you to never utter a word of this conversation, nor of the things you have learned, to a single soul – dead or otherwise. Do you understand?"
Carmen's dark eyes went empty as she temporarily lost herself in his gaze and she nodded her head in acknowledgement.
"Yes, master," she said softly.
He released her from his hypnotic hold slowly, using her moment of distraction to raise her hand to his mouth as if to kiss it. But instead, he pricked one of her fingers with the sharp point of his nail before lapping up the small amount of blood on the print just as she came to. With her blood in his system, Carmen was quick to discover herself temporarily connected to the man – all against her will.
She would have slapped him, but the door behind her opened suddenly, hitting her in the back of the head and pushing her into Vlad's waiting arms. Rémy peeked his head in, eyes widening immediately in surprise at what he beheld.
"Oh! There you two are… I…" and he paused, brow furrowing as Carmen immediately pushed herself out of Dracula's hold so she could put some distance between them. "What's going on?"
"Nothing!" the woman said immediately, flustered and blushing slightly. "Nothing at all. Vlad was just leaving…"
Rémy's expression grew suspicious as he eyed his two friends.
"Oh?"
"Yes," Dracula confirmed, all charm and ease as he straightened his jacket a bit. "I think I'll be heading home for the evening. Carmen was kind enough to explain to me the merits of the plan you had proposed earlier tonight and while I still hold some reservations, you are the leader of this alliance and I trust your judgment. Perhaps I'm just being overly cautious."
Carmen opened her mouth to speak, but one subtle wave of his finger compelled her into silence, much to the vexation of the woman who sent him a scathing look that was utterly missed by the man in the doorway.
"Well… I appreciate your support," Rémy managed, though he didn't sound wholly convinced and he looked to Carmen for further explanation. "I don't know what you did to change his mind, Carmen, but thank you."
"It was my pleasure," she said, though the words were not her own and try as she might to glare in Dracula's direction, she could not do so any longer. Some unnatural force wouldn't let her.
His majesty remained all smiles.
"I suppose then that I'll see you tomorrow to review the logistics. So for now, I bid you a good night, Rémy. Have an enjoyable rest of your evening. Goodnight, Miss Guillermo," and then he exited from the room.
When he was gone, Carmen's tongue was loosed and she fidgeted nervously, trying to grapple with all that had taken place in the last few minutes. She was so distracted she hardly even noticed the way Rémy was looking at her.
"So what was that about?" he inquired as casually as he could, trying not to appear too suspicious, but she never even noticed, her eyes fixed on the hallway beyond his head.
"It's nothing," she answered without much conviction before retreating from the room, leaving her best friend's brother to look on with doubt in his eyes, and… dare he even admit it… a twinge of jealousy.
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