Heehee...I decided to write even though I only got FOUR reviews...

...(waiting)...

Yeah, anyway, I couldn't wait to put the next chapter up, I'm so glad you guys like it:) Have fun...grins


Tatiana could not move. A moment ago she had been fighting for her life; now she found herself flat on her back looking up into the face of an unbelievably handsome, sharp-featured man, a stranger with long dark hair pulled back with a silver clip and equally dark eyes that stared down at her with something akin to shocked wonder. "Who…who are you?" she gasped out, chest heaving from exertion and fright.

The stranger blinked as if remembering where he was, and smiled suddenly. It lit up his entire face, and Tatiana realized even more acutely how very handsome he was. Devilishly handsome, almost—he even had a small earring like the pirates she had read about, and a few strands of dark hair framed his face. She found herself being helped to her feet, and her face went red as she saw the damage that the fall had done to her dress. "What happened?" she asked. Why had she fallen? Who was this man? She could not remember. It was as if her brain were in a fog.

He was saying something. "I'm sorry?" Tatiana said, looking straight into his eyes. They jolted her like an electric shock.

"Are you all well? That was quite the fall, Miss…"

"Tatiana."

"Tatiana," he said softly. He had a strong accent that sounded like the Romanians she had met, but…different. "How fitting that it should be so beautiful."

Tatiana smiled, feeling her face growing pink again. Normally she was not one for compliments—she had learned from Elisabet's experience—but this man's voice was…mesmerizing. Like his eyes. 'What name may I call you by, sir?" She knew that her voice sounded strange, but could not well control it while she was looking at him.

He frowned. "How thoughtless of me. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Count Vladislaus Dracula." He pronounced the last "Dragulya" and bowed, taking Tatiana's hand and pressing his lips to it. Something like fire rushed through his empty veins, and he almost jerked away in shock—vampires were not supposed to feel anything. Instead, he slowly, deliberately looked up into her eyes, which told him instantly that she had felt the same thing.

"Count Dracula. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." Tatiana felt as if she were in a dream.

He had not let go of her hand, and reluctantly released it. "Please, call me Dracula. 'Count' sounds so…formal. As we should not be."

Once again, she vaguely wondered why they were here, in the midst of the garden. "What will Father say? About my dress, I mean."

He was taller than Tatiana, and she had to tilt her face up to look at him. "You were frightened, milady. It's not uncommon to…see things at night in this part of Romania."

"See things?" Tatiana frowned, then she gasped and clutched Dracula's arm as the memory of the creature flooded over her. "Oh, my God!"

Dracula's face twitched almost unnoticeably, and he covered it with a look of concern that astonished him, for it was genuine. "What is wrong?"

Tatiana began to shake. "A monstrous, winged creature…it is in the garden. I saw it!" She looked up at her rescuer. "You must help me! It is coming for me!"

Dracula pulled her into his arms, careful not to let her notice that he had no heartbeat. She buried her face in his shoulder, almost shivering, and her murmured into her hair. "It was nothing, milady, a mere trick of the eyes. You should not believe everything you see in this country, for nothing is as it seems." He laughed softly. "My manservant thought he saw a werewolf last week. The fool. Even if such things existed, it was the new moon. Do you think it is a coincidence that one of the villagers has several large wolfhounds that he lets roam the forests in search of game?"

Tatiana's face was very close to his, and again he felt his breath catch as she smiled tremulously, eyes lit with hidden laughter. "Perhaps," she breathed, "it was nothing more than one of the giant mountain eagles that Father tells me about. An overstuffed goose!" She laughed at the notion. Dracula noticed that, far from relaxing, his breathing had become more handicapped. If she looked into his eyes one moment longer…

Without warning, Dracula tilted her chin up and set his mouth against hers, hard. His kiss was so passionate that Tatiana felt her bones would melt. She was shocked, but did not resist; instead, she put her arms around his neck, her fingers brushing his ponytail as it slipped forward. The unexpectedness of it all was so overwhelming that for a few moments the only thing she was aware of was the slow burning sensation of his mouth on hers.

Abruptly she pulled away, eyes downcast and a red flush creeping into her cheeks. "This is unseemly, sir. I thank you for helping me, but I must go now."

"Please." She looked back up into Dracula's eyes. "Allow me to escort you and explain your…appearance. It is only proper of a gentleman." He smiled disarmingly, and Tatiana nodded assent, head still whirling from his unbelievable kiss.

They walked arm-in-arm to the terrace stairs, climbed them, and crossed the balcony to the house. A maidservant was hurrying down the corridor toward them. "Mistress Tatiana!" she cried. "Where have you been?" She looked at Dracula, and her expression became a curious mixture of astonishment and indignation. "And who is this gentleman?"

Tatiana smiled up at her escort. "Peace, Brunhilde. This is Count Vladislaus Dracula, one of my father's guests." She assumed this was the case, and he did not react otherwise, inclining his head ceremoniously to the maid.

Brunhilde squinted at Dracula. "Is he, now?" Then she smiled. "Ah! I remember. You came with the Prescott party, no?"

Dracula smiled noncommittally. Brunhilde took that as a yes and hustled her charge off down the hall, calling back, "The guests are still in the ballroom, Your Lordship."

At the end of the night, Dracula had shared seven dances with the castle's beautiful heiress, now in a deep wine-crimson dress that made her eyes even more brilliant, if that were possible. He was reluctant to leave the ballroom for any amount of time, save one trip that resulted form the fact that if he did not feed very, very soon, he would not survive the night. Upon his return, he saw that an older man—for all practical purposes, twenty years Dracula's senior—was dancing with a disgusted-looking Tatiana. He felt a strong emotion that he identified with some surprise as anger. Two emotions in one night, or was it three? He could not remember. How dare that man dance with her, and why did Dracula care in the least?

When he left, he kissed her hand and looked deeply into her eyes, realizing that he was afraid to say what he so badly wanted to, and finally blurting, "May I…I mean…might I call on you, milady?"

Tatiana's eyes lit up. "Yes," she said softly, and when her father was out of hearing, she added, "And please, Dracula, call me Tatiana."

He gave her his devil's grin and vanished into the night.


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