Hey, remember me? I got lost in my Master's degree, but I've popped back for the holidays. Happy Easter!


A shape in front of her, pale, and a smell of leather and something heady and metallic. She was lying on something soft. The shape was the Count's bare back. He lay with his back to her, clad only in his breeches, on his cloak which had been spread on the leafy floor. She found herself oddly fascinated by the sight of his bare feet; they were both thinner and longer than any she had ever seen on a man and with rather sharp toenails.

"You broke your promise," she muttered, nervously feeling her neck - there were puncture wounds there that were sticky with blood but did not seem to be bleeding.

He turned to face her, his larger frame looming over hers. He had unfastened his hair and it hung about his shoulders in a curtain, and he leaned so near that some strands tickled her face. Terror made her flesh crawl, but if she ran he'd catch her in a heartbeat. She steeled herself to remain still beneath him.

"Do not twist my words girl; I made you no such pledge. I said only that I would not kill you before we were done here. You live still, do you not?"

She didn't speak, but he pressed her, his will crushing behind her brows, till an "aye" was forced from her lips.

"Then you've nothing to complain about have you?" he said sardonically, and before she had had time to answer he had pressed his lips to hers. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as his tongue skittered across the roof of her mouth, barely having time to respond as she realised he was finally kissing her, but he pulled back quickly, his hands caressing her easily, almost absently.

"I took but a little, girl," he murmured, "never fear. It will not harm you - you fainted more from fright than anything."

She put her hand up to her neck again to finger the bites. "I see."

"I'm glad. Lean back now." His was pushing her down, and, fleetingly, she wondered what he would have done if she had protested this. But then he was on top of her, and she could feel him all and at once became acutely aware of her remaining petticoat, tight and barely covering her. His lips were soft and his tongue probing her, goading just enough for her to return the favour. He lips touched her face; the corners of her mouth and then under her eyes, licking away the remnants of the tears she had shed. She let herself sink back, her eyes closing, resentment forgotten momentarily with his kisses. She could not tell how long they lay there but she opened her eyes when she felt the pain in her throat fade. The Count drew back then and she sat up, feeling up to her throat to find it whole.

"You see," the Count said, "what your young men don't know is that it's important to build the anticipation for something like this."

"Really?"

"Aye, and you need to learn that simply falling to the ground and lifting your skirts will get you nowhere. Proceed slowly, and believe me you shall reap the rewards later."

"Oh? Strong words Count, how are you going to prove them?"

He laughed at her boldness. "Have a care my dear, you do not wish me to lose control again do you? No, I fully intend on proving my words to you, in due course. The kiss for example," and he was leaning back with her, drawing her close against him, "a kiss may do many things. It can be tantalising, affectionate, or perhaps even comforting. For vampires, it can carry life or death in its wake. But," he paused, "then again, at times it can be something else entirely."

And his mouth was descending on hers again, his lips forcing her mouth open and he explored with an intensity that stopped her breath. She kissed him back with equal fervour, he responded by twisting his fingers tightly in her hair. All thoughts of her fate, of Doru and the others slipped right from her mind as they duelled for control, and she pitted everything she had learned from each casual encounter against him. Her hands slid up around his neck, holding him tightly to her as she tried her utmost to give as good as she got but he was stronger; his fingers roughly exploring her – hips, breasts, and in-between her legs until she moaned. He nibbled at her bottom lip before he pulled back to whisper in her ear.

"You see my point, dear Adelina?"

"I do not trust you," she said, though her insides felt hot and liquid.

"Little fool…"

There was no trifling this time; his mouth went straight to her nipple, grazing and tugging it until she gasped. One hand gathered her petticoat, pulling it up to her thighs and then long fingers slipped between. She moaned, her legs quivering as he persisted, the coil in her belly tightened so much it was almost unbearable. Her fingers twined in his hair, holding him tightly to her.

"You see now?" he murmured into her skin, and when she didn't answer he nipped her shoulder sharply.

"Yes..."

"Excellent." And suddenly he pushed her from him. Her breast and belly were extremely cold without his contact, and she sat up, staring, hating him for pulling back just then. But he was unbuttoning his breeches.

"You understand then, what I told you earlier. You are young still, and there is much life can teach you." He raised one eyebrow. "I believe that this will be a prime example for you." And he grasped her hand and placed it between his legs. She gasped; he was not chilled as before, but warm, so warm in her hand.

"You are ready for me now," he whispered, and she nodded eagerly. He took her waist in his hands, turning her over and loosening her petticoat ribbons, then drawing the garment from her and tossing it aside. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and wondered why; surely he did not need to breathe?

"Oh, devil but you're beautiful," She found herself giggling.

"Truly?"

"Aye truly," he chuckled, and his fingers slipped between her legs again, pinching and caressing until she squirmed on the cloak. "And don't you be getting conceited, Madam."

"Never," she murmured as he eased her back over again. He was white, very white, as he settled himself against her, his skin almost transparent against the black wool of his cloak; the veins showing through skin like paper. She could not think him weak though, as he spread her thighs apart and lay between.

He laid her back onto the cloak; catching her hands and placing them above her head, holding them there, cool fingers fetters about her wrists, though at this late stage she could barely bring herself to care. She was warm, so warm inside her; coiled tight as a spring. And then he was within her and he was icy cold, and it hurt, worse than with her gypsy lad all those years ago. But when he began to move; deliciously slow, it brought more heat to her belly. Her legs quivered where they lay spread and she strained against his hands, but he shook his head.

"Not just yet." She frowned at that, not understanding, and it was only when he increased his pace; that she realised why. She strained harder, wanting to reach her arms around his neck and hold him to her, but he would not allow it. He kept her hands pinioned there until he coaxed soft moans past her lips and she wondered how she could bear it. It was only then that he released her. She reached up and kissed him then; never knowing why she did it, and he smiled – gentle, but with some sadness in it.

He was a forceful lover; marking her neck and breasts with bites until they bled; his eyes red and eager. Tears sprang up at the pain, but once he was done he lifted her up and on top of him, holding her hips tightly and it felt deeper and hotter than anything she had ever felt before, and she forgave him his cruelties. He worked her with fingers and tongues and thrusts until she begged for him to end it, and he would ease from her until her sweat cooled before he struck again. And it wasn't till she was almost there – hair damp and body aching with need, that he released her, and twined her arm about his neck.

"Not long now, pet. But you must do this one thing for me first." He took her hand to his mouth and sucked at her fingers. She whimpered; his fangs were drawn and her fingers were cut on them; she watched as his eyes grew red while he licked the blood away. Then he was leaning forward and placing them firmly between her legs. "Show me," he whispered in her ear.

She knew what he wanted; none knew of it but herself on nights alone in the forest after lads had left her for home. But she let him see it, and he watched with eyes growing brighter and redder and rocked into her. And then with a shudder she was done, her eyes rolling back and her hands clutching out wildly, holding him to her with her spine and fingers and toes flexing.

She drifted as she caught her breath, hardly noticing, with the satisfied twitch in her belly, that he had laid her out, leaning her against his shoulder, kissing the marks he had made, or that he was breathing as harshly as her. She cared not about anything - not even the promise he had made her earlier - as long as he would let her lie still.

Seconds or minutes or hours later he raised himself and murmured in her ear. "You cannot sleep here, Adelina." There was a musky smell in the air, and a chill was setting into her limbs. Damp wool prickled her back. She opened her eyes to find him standing, dressed, and her lying the cloak wrapped around her. How long had she lain there?

"You must dress."

She stood then, shivering, and gathered her clothes up from around them. She turned away from him to dress – God knew why; she had never been one for modesty – but once she had pulled on her skirts he came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. He caught up her stays from where she had tossed them when Doru had been here – Lord, it seemed days ago – and laced them for her. She remained motionless, letting him raise or drop her arms to dress her as he wished. She felt as though she was watching them from a point across the clearing. He even tended her hair for her – combing it with an ebony comb from his pocket, plaiting it and pinning it about her head. When her head-cloth was neatly tied he turned her about to face him.

"So steady," he murmured, slipping a cool palm inside her blouse to lie over her heart. "Do you not fear me then, my dear, here at the last?" She didn't, perhaps couldn't answer him, and he raised her chin gently with two fingers.

"Adelina. Look at me, Adelina." She swallowed – her throat was dry, she found - but looked up to find his eyes were dark and steady, no hint of the red of lust or even bloodlust.

"Have you learned now, pet?"

She swallowed again. "Aye." Her voice was cracked. He smiled, and there was no hint of mockery in it.

"Learned what? Tell me."

"I – I was wrong. There is more, much more, about life that I wasn't thinking of." She imagined that here, at the last, it was what he wanted to hear. She could not bring herself to care that right now, she could not even tell if it was the truth.

"Good," he murmured, "good." And he bent and kissed her forehead, once. "Then go."

That roused her from her stupor; her breath caught in her throat; she almost choked as she stared at him astounded.

"Go?" He smiled.

"Go, and live properly," he waved his hand impatiently, as though pushing a nuisance of a child to amuse itself, "well, play as it pleases you but one day let yourself love, and live for yourself and not for Vaseria, your parents or even the Valerious."

"T-truly?"

He smirked. "Yes, truly. I have taken my fill from you. But go, quickly, before I change my mind." His eyes flashed briefly; a reminder of what she had learned, once and for all, what he was capable of. She saw herself turning; darting away to her own bed where she would hide her head under the blankets like a child and not raise it until dawn light showed through the window. And then what? Rising with the sun in the morning and not seeing her bed again until it had set, with only the distraction of the occasional traveller. She would likely have to marry one someday. So instead, amazing at herself, she looked up and looked the vampire right in the eye.

"No."

For the first time he looked rattled, confused, his brow furrowed. "No? Dear girl, what can you mean?"

"I mean no. I will not go back to a – stifling – life like that. I cannot. In years to come it will kill me."

He raised his eyebrow. "Really? Well, what then, my dear, do you intend to do?"

"I want to come with you."

He stared, frowning, in disbelief. She almost smiled, knowing she had caused the look, but did not dare, struggling to keep her breath quiet she was so afraid of his answer. Finally he reached out his hand, took hers and led her back to the stump they had sat upon.

"You do know what that would mean my girl, don't you? If you come with me you will spend an eternity at my side. You cannot know, now, how long that is. In centuries you may well decide you have made the wrong decision, pine for those years with a husband, and a child. Yes, even you may find yourself longing for that."

She raised her eyes to his, earnest, steady, trying to reassure him. God, why would he not listen.

"It will be the right choice." But the vampire shook his head.

"You are too young my dear. You do not know enough of life to be able to make that kind of choice." Flickers of temper at that.

"Truly? Too young? You did not think me so a few minutes ago on that cloak."

She expected the slap, but not the absentness with which he delivered it, barely glancing back as she put her hand to her swollen cheek.

He faced away from her. "No, you will understand what I have to say. If you make this choice there can be no turning back."

She was starting to grow impatient, though she did not dare show it. "Please? I know what I am asking." Cold fingers raised her chin and she stared into the Count's eyes. They were clearer than she had seen them before, and though she knew what a figure she must cut, with her wrinkled clothing, musky scent and flaming cheeks, she met them fiercely. If he didn't take her, she had nothing.

"You're sure, my dear?"

"I'm sure." He stood.

"Very well. Then come."

She barely believed her ears till he removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders; it swamped her, but he secured it the folds tightly about her, raising an eyebrow at her disbelieving look. "Well, the journey to my home will be a cold one, my alluring Adelina." She blushed at that, and he grinned.

"Why has no young lover called you that?"

"No – they – they have always called me Aleera."

"Aleera," he murmured, testing the name on his tongue. "It suits you well. Come then, my darling Aleera."


I don't deserve reviews, but I'm going to shamelessly beg anyway. *Begs*