Diana returned to her room, getting away from dealing with more people gawking at her. The nobleman fellow seemed nice enough, but he was just another person to stare at her instead of feel anything. She sunk onto her bed starting to cry again, the only person that had understood her had died. She started singing softly, a beautiful, rich voice that was only untrained and sorrowful…

The Russian man watched her from the shadows, she was beautiful, more then that, she wasn't the usual idiots this place dealt out. There was something special about her. That voice… Something he admired, but it was distracting him from things needed to be done…he would have it.

He stepped out then, moving over to her without so much of a sound across the creaky boards, sitting next to her. No one would hear her scream outside of the room. The idea of finding any man you didn't know sitting on your bed next to you would get anyone to scream after all.

She scrambled backward away from him, pausing only when he didn't make any move after her. Staring at him in a awed and fearful silence.

The man was strikingly attractive. Stark black silken hair around pale, smooth flesh, powder white with age. He had angular, aristocratic features, thin lips, high cheekbones. He had a deep midnight blue colored eyes that seemed to have sparks of silver as though they reflected the night sky outside. His eyes were the window to his soul. If his age wasn't apparent in his seemed mid-twenties, his eyes gave away the centuries that lie oh so close under the perfect skin. He wore gentleman's clothing, with black dress pants, and a button sleeved and tied deep crimson crushed velvet shirt. Black leather boots and gloves on his feet and hands. A pin to show his coat of arms and his position as the count of the realm rested on the right side of the neck of his shirt. He had an ambience of superiority about him, a complete and utter aura of confidence and dominance….of power.

There was little he did to hide his true nature, little he could have done, he was too ancient to be weak, without being weak he didn't need to hide what he was. In every movement he made, the speed, the grace, the arrogant style, you could see the predator in him. Lurking there so naturally under the surface.

Diana couldn't help but just watch, overwhelmed.

"Do calm down my dearest lady goddess," he said softly, his voice an easy purr. As striking as his appearance, washing over her and calming her as was his desire. It was a deep voice, and though gentle at the moment, she had no problems imagining how frightening it could be if it was to be raised in anger.

She inched away from the wall, scooting slightly closer and finding herself unable to take her eyes from him.

"Don't fear me my lady," he continued, reaching out and stroking her cheek with his gloved and still cold hands, "I will not harm you. I want to give you more then this mundane life. You could be so much more then this simple…"

"This simple what?" she asked with a almost childlike curiosity that drew a rueful smile from him.

"You will see my dear," he answered, he was in control, he was always in control. He knew it and Diana simply accepted it.

"I heard you that day," he explained as he petted back some of her hair, "I heard your prayer. Your fear. You want a reason to live. I want to give you a reason to die."

She stared at him, falling more and more under the entrancement of his voice and his presence, just nodding some in response for a while before realizing what he had said really and growing very wary of him for the first real time.

"Why would you want me to die?" she whispered, as though unable to raise her voice above that weak refrain.

"You must die to live forever," he answered in a return whisper, leaning toward her as he spoke, his tone implying it should have been obvious.

She paused, not backing away, not leaning into his coming embrace. Time slowing for her, as some long lingering note. She knew she could back away, scream, someone might hear her. Did she honestly desire to be heard? The answer was easy enough. It was why she never made a movement to back away from the sharp embrace of his fangs. Or protest as she felt the life start to drain from her body, the warm start to fade into the coolness of his form. She didn't remember the whole evening, only the easy answer to her question….

No.