Oh well, I was hoping to update sooner, but I had a bit of writer's block for chapter thirteen, and because I didn't finish it till the other night, I wasn't able to update (I TRY to write a chapter… then post… write a chapter… etc etc). For those of you who wanted an early update… I'm very sorry. And just so you know - I wanted to update too! But HOLY CRAP! Look at the response I got for my second chapter. OMG! To all my reviewers … I love you all! -happy tear- You all have all just…wow… been so supportive and kind. I hoped people would like this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it and, heh, it seems that it is working out that way. Anyways, enough …

Here chapter three… and a very good chapter if I do say so myself… lots of Draccy goodness… -sighs, with a glazed look in eyes-

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"We caught three Turkish thieves in the marketplace today, the whole lot of them working to steal… and doing it quite efficiently if I might add," said the advisor, a tall, slim man with narrow eyes and a long nose.

Vladislaus Dracula stood in front of a cloudy window, his back to the man and hands clasped behind him in a noble fashion, that befitting of a Prince, which he, in fact, was. His hair was raven and typically pulled back in a clip (something he had done for as long as he could remember) except there were a few rebellious strands that dangled to his cheeks and chin. He had ever-watchful, piercing blue eyes and all his attire was in black – shirt, vest, pants, coat, all the way down to his military-styled boots.

Although he was a Prince, there wasn't anything blatant that would distinguish him as so; he abhorred the thought of a crown or any sort of headwear. He was fond of tradition but he was allowed to dislike something of it! The only thing that did tell his status (not that anyone would doubt who he was) was a silver signet ring on his right hand that had been his father's. The seal was of a dragon, the family insignia since his father's name was Dracul, meaning dragon. His name, Dracula, in simple meant, son of the dragon.

There was a strange silence in the room as the advisor waited for the Prince to respond but he seemed to be in deep contemplation of something – he noticed he had been that way since he had come back from riding. What he would never know though, was that Dracula couldn't get that simple yet enthralling young woman he had met earlier that evening out of his head. Her unique brown eyes, so light and so different from most Romanian eyes that were very, very dark and her smile, that bright, beautiful smile she had freely and genuinely given him.

"My lord, we are keeping them in the dungeons as we speak," the advisor said again. "What would you have us do?"

Dracula shook his head as if coming out of his thoughts and turned to the man.

"Question them first, to make sure they are just thieves and not spies working for someone…you may use whatever means necessary, if they are spies, inform me immediately, if not… kill them anyways." He strode over behind his desk scattered with papers and took a seat in the large, wooden chair, comfortably and fittingly covered with black leather in the seat and back. "And remember to put them outside the village gates. I won't have thieves and damned Turks over running my country," he growled with a sudden loathing passion.

Just then, there was a light rap at the door…that knock was all too familiar to him.

"Yes?" he asked, though he already knew who it was and what they wanted.

"May I?" came a female voice, asking for entrance to the room.

He sighed. "Enter."

And in she swept, wearing a crimson, daringly cut yet redeeming opaque nightdress, with her almost black hair down, past her shoulders, ready for bed. Swiftly, she moved around his desk and sat on the armof his chair as if were her throne and the greatest entitlement was to sit beside him. Her name was Nedezda… she was his mistress. She had been given to Dracula by the sultan of Turkey as part of a peace offering between them. The now twenty-year-old had been a timid virgin when she was first brought to the castle about a year ago but it seemed time had worked its wonders.

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked.

"Soon," he answered simply, looking up at the beautiful female perched beside him. No, she was beyond beautiful. He would admit that. Her Middle Eastern blood gave her a tan complexion, her hazel eyes were in deep shades and although it was actually brunette, her hair looked black.

"Will that be tonight?" she joked lightly but there was a slight suggestiveness in her tone and eyes.

"When I'm finished here," he said, his very tone…flat. Business came before her little whims and even his own desires. "Why don't you go on, I'll be there later."

"I'm fine staying with you," she said. "If that's alright?"

He chuckled; she was so willing to please him. "That is quite alright my dear," the r's rolled off his tongue smoothly, making her skin crawl wildly, "but I thought I recall you saying that you found this business boring?"

She snaked her arm around his and took his hand in her own. "A small price," she mumbled, playing with the cuff of his shirt and examining his long, pale hands. He diverted his attention from her to his advisor who was now turned away, rightfully giving them their time. Dracula cleared his throat and the man looked up.

"Continue," he ordered, with a motion from his one free hand that wasn't being pinned and lavished in innocent adorations from his mistress.

"Well… um…" the advisor stuttered, unsure where to begin again. "There wasn't much else that happened today my lord, it was pretty uneventful… but there are a few outstanding tax debtors that need to be taken care of." He held up the paper with a list. Every case was ordered to be brought before the Prince, heard and then signed off by him before action could be taken place. It assured him that he knew what was going on at all times in his kingdom, which was the way he liked things.

"Go on," said Dracula.

The advisor then began to read off the list, each debtor's last name, how much they owe, and for how long. After only a few cases, Dracula intentionally tuned out the droning voice of his advisor, watching as his mistress played with his hands. She seemed fascinated by everything about them, the length of his fingers, their calloused tips, the battle scars that marred the top of his hand and palm; she turned it over and back again still examining it, sometimes comparing the length with her own small hand, and every so often pressing his fingertips to her full lips. He could never understand why she found such fascination in his hands but he knew enough to know those silly gestures meant more than just a simple fancy; it was something deeper, an obsession. He had her wrapped around his finger… literally.

Suddenly, a familiar word caught his ear.

"Say that again." His eyes shifted up.

"Hm?" The advisor looked up from the page. "Say what?"

"The last name that you just read, what was it?"

"Shevich?"

"Yes…" he said to himself then repeated the name.

"What is it, my lord?" asked Nedezda, wanting to know exactly what interested him and why.

He ignored her and asked the advisor, "Is there any other families that have that name?"

The man tapped his thin lips with his finger, thinking. "I believe they are the only one… but I'm not positive. I could check for you, if you wish?"

"No, I do not believe that will be necessary. " Dracula reclined in his chair more, rubbing his chin with his index finger, looking contemplative but was really scheming.

What would the chances be that the beautiful you woman from the village fountain belong to that same family? If so, would she be the daughter… or the wife? It wasn't uncommon for girls to get married even in their early teens and he guessed that she was somewhere between sixteen and twenty, it would make perfect sense that someone like her would already be taken. Although, she acted so free, so unlike any wife he had met or seen and there were those rare girls that stayed home for a long time before marriage…could it be possible? There was only one way to find out…

"I want you to bring the… whole family here," said Dracula.

"Family? All of them?" the advisor questioned, making sure he understood correctly. "But, my lord, we don't usually bring the whole-" He was silenced by the very stern expression on Dracula's face. "I will see to it, my liege."

"Good. First thing in the morning, before the sun rises… and make sure they all come. Every member of the family."

The advisor nodded.

"Why," asked Nedezda again, still curious and refusing to be ignored.

Dracula lightly chuckled off her question. "Boring business, darling. Nothing more." She sighed dramatically, not quite convinced but didn't press the matter. "You look tired," he said. "And you have no intention of leaving this room without me, do you?" A sly smile formed on her lips and she shook her head. "Of course not," he said. Even at the corner of his lips sat a discrete smirk. With that, he stood up and closed with the advisor in a simple word, "Tomorrow."

The man knew enough not to protest, so he nodded and began gathering up his papers.

Dracula strode for the door and to leave the room. "Come along," he said to his mistress… but the words were pointless because she was already bright-eyed and at his heels.

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Oh, FYI my good peoples, the name Nedezda is totally a real name. Yup. I thought it sounded bride-ish, which is why I picked it. She sort of has some of the brides' traits, all rolled into one, but mostly Aleera's… later on you will see why. Yeah, I'm pretty darn proud of this chapter… but 'tis a pity I didn't have muse helping me with it then it would have been so much better. I mean, yeah Dracula pops in every once in a while to help out with a review here and there… but he doesn't stay very long. -sigh- So it looks like I'm going to go on a quest for a more… er… more loyal muse. While I do…

Review my lovely darlings!