Chapter 7: Metamorphosis

Volkov Palace, Budapest – September 1895 – two days before the fall equinox

There had been a tension in the air ever since the Count's letter had arrived two weeks ago, and in the last couple of evenings, it had only gotten worse. Miruna, Agnar's wife and life-long companion for the last three-hundred and forty years, had been handling it with the utmost grace and calm, something Agnar himself wish he could mirror. He leaned back in his favorite leather chair beside a roaring fire, taking a sip of the blood of a drunk from a glass in an effort to calm his nerves.

Ever since Count Dracula's return, the notorious vampire had remained effectively under the radar for nearly six years, and Agnar couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change.

There was a soft knock at his door, followed by a lovely face peeking into the room.

"Mother wanted me to remind you that the Count will be arriving shortly. You may wish to come downstairs."

"It is about that time, isn't it?" he said with a sigh.

"You seem troubled, father."

"I am troubled, my dear. When last I saw Count Dracula over five years ago, he was in such a state of defeat, that I never thought he'd leave those cursed Transylvanian mountains, and as much as I respect and admire the man, I was glad for it. But something has brought the Count out of hiding and I have a feeling that he'll be using our annual equinox masquerade as a platform for his return."

"Is that so bad?" his daughter inquired, making her way over to him and resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "As a species we have always flourished under the Count's hand. Perhaps he means to finish what he started and bring us out of the shadows."

"The last thing a man of that kind of power and influence wants after losing everything is to bring the rest of our kind out of the shadows, my dear. No, I fear anything he does from here on out will be for revenge, and he'll drag all of us into it, one way or another."

"I would not utter such things, dear husband, when the Count arrives," Miruna stated, suddenly standing in the doorway. "Such talk could be misconstrued as traitorous."

"The Count has no quarrel with me," Agnar insisted upon standing. "He's too busy being at war with the world and every living soul in it." He pulled his daughter into an embrace with one arm and placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. "But I hope you are right, my dear. Indeed, I do."

As they made their way down toward the grand foyer, Miruna and Agnar began to discuss the final preparations for the masquerade ball that was to be held in two days, along with the list of confirmed attendees, and the room arrangements for their distinguished guest and his mysterious female companion.

In the past, when the Count visited Agnar and his family, any female companions he brought with him usually shared his room, or at least had an adjoining chamber. This was the first time in all of history where the Count had made explicit instructions to have the rooms be completely separate.

They were soon joined by their eldest son, Andrei, as well as a close friend of the family and member of the coven – Nicolæ. Nicolæ's girlfriend, the vampire Zsófia, was attached to his arm.

"Is it anyone we would know?" Andrei asked, in reference to the Count's unknown companion.

"No, I don't believe so."

"I heard she was a newborn."

"Is she a new bride?"

"If she was, why would he request separate chambers?"

"Even if she wasn't his bride, he wouldn't want separate chambers. He'd have us put them together and then convince her it was some kind of mistake."

Laughter followed.

"The poor woman. Whoever she is, she doesn't stand a chance."

"They've known each other for over a year, and from what I've heard, he hasn't made a single advance towards her."

"That is remarkable!"

"What's wrong with her?"

"We'll find out soon enough, I suppose."

"Is she his, then?"

"That's the strangest part! No one knows!"

"I wonder what she looks like."

"Or where she comes from."

"I heard she's an orphan."

"An orphan? What would the Count be doing with an orphan?"

"Maybe he's been resurrected one too many times."

More laughter ensued.

"That's very unlike the Count. Why would he sire a nobody and take the trouble of looking after them? That isn't like him at all!"

"Most irregular."

"Maybe he was lonely. The man did lose everything."

"I still can't believe his entire line is gone."

"And his brides! I do miss Marishka. Vigdís was devastated when she heard the news."

"And what about the Selkirk twins – Adnraste and Reunan? I remember when the rumors were coming out of Transylvania, and people were saying that Aleera had been killed by Anna Valerious!"

"Slanderous lies! Killed by a Valerious? What utter nonsense."

"She was very young, though."

"Adnraste had such high hopes for Aleera. It's tragic that their line has all but wasted away."

"How did Dragoş take the news of Verona's passing?"

"Not very well. He was still mourning the loss of Alrik, and then to receive news that another member of his bloodline had been destroyed by a member of the Order."

"Dracula should have ended the Valerious line ages ago. I told him as much, multiple times, but he wouldn't listen."

"Well, he's paid the price for that now."

"In a way, we all have."

"Indeed."

"I sincerely hope he's abandoned his ambitions of conquering the world. Connecting the bloodlines was controversial enough."

"Did his Doctor Frankenstein ever discover the means of doing that?"

"I hope not. I've said it before, and I'll say it again – as much as I respect the Count, I would not want to be blood-bound to that man, no matter what he offered me! His ambitions make him arrogant and careless."

"Master Agnar, a carriage has just arrived," a servant interrupted.

When Count Dracula's entranced was shortly thereafter announced, a hush fell over the family as they turned to see him standing in the doorway, alone. Dark storm clouds veiled a war of lightning outside giving the notorious vampire quite the entrance. Eyes soon drifted to the handsome and expensive-looking carriage in the driveway just outside, but no one else made an appearance and the doors were soon shut behind the Count.

Agnar was the first to acknowledge Dracula and he did so with his arms opened wide in welcome as he made his way over to his distinguished guest.

"Count! This is indeed an honor. Welcome to Volkov! It has been many years since we were graced with your presence," he exclaimed. The Count's stoic expression melted away into a charming smile.

"My dear Agnar! It has been too long, my friend," and the two shook hands with an act of warmness that would have fooled anyone. The tension between the two men was expertly guarded. "I would like to thank you for being so accommodating."

"It is no trouble, no trouble at all, my old friend. It pleases me that you have decided to leave those solitary mountains and reenter society. Your presence has been sorely missed."

"You are too kind."

"You, of course, remember my wife, Miruna," and Agnar motioned to his wife. The Count kissed her offered hand, everything about him full of charm and effortless grace. Miruna was a lovely woman. Though immortality had stopped the clock at age thirty-eight, she looked wonderful for her age, with her honey-suckled eyes and light brown hair pulled elegantly back.

"You look as enchanting as ever, my dear. Thank you for opening your home to us," and he bowed deeply.

"The pleasure is all ours, my lord. We hope you do make yourself at home. And your companion?" she inquired expectedly, but the Count never answered the last question.

He merely smiled and moved on to Agnar's eldest – Andrei. Andrei was the embodiment of everything a young man ought to be. Blessed to be forever twenty-three years of age, with hair and eyes similar to his mother's, he was accustomed to being a favorite among the ladies. He was naturally charming, attentive, and an exceptional fighter.

The Count was then presented to Dorina, Agnar and Miruna's only daughter, who looked a great deal more like her father than anything else. She was a beauty, eternally twenty years old, with eyes for the Count. He had taken advantage of her admiration on several pleasure-filled occasions in the past, and though both parties claimed that the interactions were merely a diversion to pass the time, for Dorina, she found it difficult to commit herself to any other man, for she was cursed to always compare the unlucky soul to the Count.

When Agnar finished making the introductions, they all looked at the Count in silent anticipation.

"I appear to be missing something," he said with a quizzical look in his eye. "Were you expecting something?"

There was a round of awkward chuckling, and then Agnar explained.

"You had mentioned in your letter that you were bringing a companion with you."

"Ah, yes. How could I have forgotten? Agnar, Miruna, I'd like to introduce you to my…." He paused for a moment, as if trying to think up a title for her. When the right one came to him, a look of pleasure softened his features and he held out his hands for the closed door. "My bellator." The footmen opened the double doors and standing in the doorway was a woman dressed meticulously in a stunning red taffeta gown with three-quarter length sleeves. The bodice was more like a sleeveless corset with the sleeves attached under the arms, barely hanging onto her shoulders. She had a long, plain black veil drawn over her face that floated dramatically in the wind.

Afina's entrance couldn't have been more perfect.

She was Dracula's masterpiece and she held herself with a pride and an elegance that was spellbinding.

As she began to make her way toward the Count, she reached up and gently pulled the veil from her face, offering it to one of the servants as she continued to walk. Everything about her screamed superiority – from her posture, the way she held her head, all the way down to the manner in which she walked. She was the female equivalent of Count Dracula in air and appearance and even the Count himself, had trouble staying focused.

Over a year of painstaking preparation and it was finally paying off. Afina had been a devoted and studious apprentice and in that moment, any anxiety he may have felt prior to their arrival had melted away. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments and had she fed recently, she would have blushed from the pride that shown in his eyes.

She extended her hand and took his offered one, allowing him to guide her toward the company where he presented her.

"Agnar, it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you, Afina, daughter of Alrik, the blood-niece of Dragoş."

"This is Alrik's daughter?" Agnar asked in disbelief. "We're talking about the same Alrik of the Áki line? The oldest…"

"The oldest of the bloodlines. Yes," Dracula finished for him.

"Are you certain of this?" Agnar inquired, not entirely disposed to believe such a proclamation.

"Utterly and completely," the Count assured him.

"I had heard the rumors that Alrik had fathered a living child, but I had no idea those rumors were true." He took a step towards her and then paused. "But I hear no heartbeat. You're no longer damphir, child.."

"No, I am not," Afina confirmed.

"Are you her sire?" he asked the Count.

"No. I found her shortly after she took to the transition. Whoever turned her must have done it by accident and left her for dead."

Nicolæ, who had been standing off to the side tensed up immediately.

"How terrible!" Dorina chimed in. "Can you not remember who it was?"

Afina's eyes found Nicolæ's gaze and she had to keep from smiling when she saw the look of horrified astonishment in the vampire's eyes.

"Alas, I do not," she lied with confidence. "But it does not matter. The Count has taken excellent care of me," and she took his arm and offered a charming smile. "And you have been most gracious to extend this invitation to me. I have heard nothing but the highest praise for your semi-annual equinox masquerade. What a wonderful way to usher in the fall!"

"Will this be your first masquerade ball?" Andrei asked.

She glanced at the Count expectedly for the briefest of moments and Agnar intervened.

"Forgive me, my dear. We are such terrible hosts for not properly introducing you. This is my son and my eldest – Andrei."

Afina offered a subtly flirtatious smile and offered her hand, which Andrei took without a moment's hesitation, gently pressing his lips to her knuckles.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. And in answer to your question, yes – this will be my first masque."

"You mean you've never been to one? Not even once?" Dorina chimed in with disbelief.

"My sister, Dorina," Andrei mentioned, offering Afina his arm, which she took, releasing the Count.

"I watched many from a distance when I was a little girl," Afina explained with a laugh in her voice. "But I've never attended one myself. When my mother learned of my father's passing, she stopped attending balls and parties altogether."

"How tragic!" Dorina took Afina's other arm and the siblings led her towards the parlor. The Count stayed behind with Agnar, watching on from a distance with a great deal of pleasure in his eyes as his protégé performed. He observed with silent enjoyment as Afina was introduced, unknowingly by the company, to her murderer, Nicolæ, and his girlfriend Zsófia. By the smile on her face, one would have never suspected the murderous hatred she felt for the man. It made the Count want to laugh aloud. She made it all appear so effortless. Yes, he had taught her well.

"How did you find her?" Agnar inquired, interrupting the Count's study.

"The Order sent her to me – unknowingly of course," he explained with great amusement. "Her late husband was a member of the Order, sent to sniff me out. She accompanied him in search of answers about who she truly was."

"Is she a true Áki?"

"She cannot be killed in the normal ways, if that's what you're implying. So yes, she is a true Áki."

"And a credit to Alrik," Agnar added. "If only he could see her now."

"Yes. She is so much like Alrik – so focused, yet passionate at the same time. She still struggles with parts of her humanity, though."

"That isn't always such a bad thing. And she's still a young vampire. She'll harden herself to it all eventually. We all do to varying degrees."

"I have noticed that she tends to excel when she surrenders to her bloodlust. She has quite the sadistic streak."

"Something she picked up from you, no doubt," Agnar said with a teasing grin.

"Her imagination is boundless. I remember being like that, once upon a time."

"You don't give yourself much credit, Count. Your methods of torture were legendary, even when you were a mortal."

"In this case, the student has surpassed the teacher," Vlad said with pride. "She can be quite voracious."

"How so?"

"She slaughtered an entire village within her first week after the transition – every last creature with a heartbeat – human and animal alike. By the time I found her, it looked like she had bathed herself in their blood. And her first successful kill after I taught her the essentials of the hunt was a vampire hunter."

"Extraordinary!"

"You should have seen her when she had first turned, Agnar. Tore a man's heart right out of his chest with her bare hand. I can't remember the last time I witnessed such abandon during a feeding. She was positively marvelous."

"She sounds more and more like her father by the minute!" The gentlemen watched as the remaining company exited the foyer, leaving the two of them alone. "How did she die?" he inquired in hushed tones, not wishing to be overheard.

"By a member of your coven, unfortunately," Dracula replied matter-of-factly. "A vampire hunter by the name of Isabella paid a visit to your son's estate in Transylvania and convinced them that Afina and her husband were also vampire hunters, sent to destroy me. Your son's loyalty does him credit, but a close confidant of his blatantly disobeyed my instructions to leave Afina alive. I had hoped to turn her myself, but my orders were deliberately ignored and I would like to know why."

"Do you know which confidant?" Agnar asked, genuinely concerned. "Despite my son's excellent sense of judgment, he can be a little careless when it comes to his friends."

"I have my suspicions, but if confirmed, I will not tolerate that kind of defiance."

"But Afina is alive – in a way – and everything is fine, Count. I will not accept unnecessary bloodshed, not in my coven, and certainly not under my roof."

If this had been ten years ago when he had been at the peak of his power, Dracula would have snapped the man's neck, just to prove a point. But he wasn't at the peak of his power, and things had changed a great deal in the last decade. But he wasn't concerned. He had an ace or two up his sleeve, and though he was not the most patient of men, he did understand the virtue of waiting for the opportune moment.

"I completely understand, old friend," Dracula insisted with a smile. "However, if I uncover any acts or plans of treachery, bloodshed will become a necessity, whether under your roof or any other. I promise you that."

"You will not find such disloyalty in my coven, Count."

"I sincerely hope not."

When Agnar and the Count joined the rest of the company in the parlor, Dracula immediately noticed an additional presence in the room. On the far end of the room, Afina was seated on a sofa with Andrei on her right and another man on her left whom they hadn't been introduced to earlier. Andrei was an attractive man in his own right, but the vampire on the other side of Afina was an Adonis. With a strong jaw, cheekbones you could cut yourself with, hypnotic green eyes, and hair that begged to be tousled by any obliging fingers, his face alone was the embodiment of perfection. As for the rest of him, well, he was nothing short of a Greek god. His interest in Afina was the first thing the Count noticed and the way the man's hand rested on her knee infuriated him.

"Lucas Craven," Dracula said with a disapproval he tried to mask in civility. "I had no idea you were here."

Craven looked over at the Count and a wicked grin crossed his face as he removed his hand from Afina's knee.

"Vlad! I thought I had heard your voice earlier! Welcome back to the land of the living… or, I suppose, the undead," he said, laughing at his own terrible joke. "I was just getting acquainted with this exquisite creature of yours."

Afina stood upon the Count's entrance and she made her way over to him, resting a hand on his shoulder as he poured a glass of blood which he offered to her first, but upon her refusal, he partook of himself.

"She is not mine," he corrected. "But she is travelling with me."

"Not yours? How fascinating!"

"If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll retire to my chambers. Andrei, would you be so kind?" Afina interrupted. The young man was more than happy to oblige and he escorted her out of the parlor after she bid the remaining company a good-evening.

When they were gone, Dorina, Agnar, and Miruna also excused themselves, leaving Nicolæ and Zsófia whispering in the corner, which meant Dracula was stuck conversing with Craven.

"So if she's not yours, what the devil are you doing with her?" Craven inquired, helping himself to a glass of blood as well before taking his seat again.

"I like to think of her as my ward," Vlad explained. "She's Alrik's daughter."

"That's what Andrei was saying. Funny how you always seem to find yourself drawn to that line, Vlad. How long has she been your 'ward?'" he asked sarcastically, not for one moment buying that the two of them weren't serious in some degree or another.

"Over a year now."

"Have you shared a bed with her, yet?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I have not."

"I don't believe it!"

"She's not interested," Vlad explained, taking a seat in an armchair across from Craven. "Even when she was a mortal, she refused most of my advances."

"Perhaps you're losing your touch?"

"No. If I wanted her, I'd have her. And as lovely as she is, I've had finer women in my time. No, where Afina is concerned, I have no real interest. I have far more important things to occupy my time. And I'm not exactly in a hurry to tie myself down."

"Tie yourself down? When have you ever been faithful to any woman?"

"Faithful – never. But I have been known to be a most devoted lover."

Craven laughed.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this! And from the man famous for seducing entire households in a single evening, no matter the gender or sexual orientation! I would have thought you'd have jumped at the opportunity to coerce such a lovely bird into submission."

"Yes, well, losing everything can put things into perspective for a person," he answered with mild disinterest. "You're welcome to have a go at her, if you wish. But I wouldn't advise it."

"And why ever not?"

"If she rejects your advances and you continue to persist, she may lose her temper."

"I like a woman with spirit."

"I'm certain you'll be singing a different tune when she tears out your tongue after emasculating you," he said with a dark amusement. "Besides, I thought you were still with Miss Nouveau?"

"Elizabeth loves joining me in my conquests. Spices things up, as I'm sure you recall – the debaucheries you and your brides indulged in put Elizabeth and I to shame!"

"How is my depraved protégé?" he asked with affection.

"She's doing exceptionally well."

"Will she be joining us for the masque?"

"She should be arriving some time late tomorrow evening."

"Well then, I look forward to seeing her again. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said upon standing, "I think I'll retire for the evening. The sun will be rising soon."

"But the sun has never bothered you, Vlad! And these drapes are heavy enough. Come! It's been ages!"

"Let's not pretend we like each other, Craven," Dracula said smoothly. "If I have to feign civility for another moment longer, you could find yourself meeting the morning sun, and I don't think I could bear explaining to Agnar why the charred remains of one of his guests was found impaled on the spire of the south wing." He smiled his most charming smile and then bowed. "Good evening, Lord Craven."

"Count Dracula," Craven returned with a civil nod of his head.

Having disrobed down to her corset, with her garters still holding up her stockings, Afina was gently draped her red dress over the back of a chair when she heard a knock at the door.

"Yes?" She pulled on a silk dressing gown to make herself more decent and tied the sash, just as the Count entered the room.

"May I come in?"

"Of course."

He shut the door behind him.

"How are you settling in? Do you have everything you need?"

"Everything is perfect," she assured him. "Miruna has excellent servants. By the time Andrei brought me up here, everything had been unpacked or laid out."

"I'm glad to hear it. And what of your… tools?" Their eyes both moved in the same direction, resting on a chest which had been placed at the foot of the bed.

"Still locked and secured."

"Good. And how are you faring?"

"Nicolæ recognizes me. Of that I'm certain."

"Did he say anything?"

"No, he made certain to stay as far away from me as possible," she said with a laugh.

"Does he suspect?"

"No, I don't think he does. He's certainly wary of me, though. But I think I can break him before the masque, or convince someone else to do it for me, if I like."

"I have no doubt of that," he smiled, taking a seat on the chaise lounge by the window. "What do you think of the family?"

"Agnar is a good man, and Miruna is the perfect hostess. Andrei is impeccably charming, but I'm getting the impression that much of his behavior is owned to the expectations placed upon him. I think if Queen Victoria and that sense of propriety that has infested the continent was no longer an obstacle, he'd have jumped Craven."

The Count roared with laughter, deeply amused at the image in his head of Andrei forcing himself of a very heterosexual Lucas Craven.

"I think you may be right about that," he finally said, still chuckling to himself. "And what did you think of the infamous Craven?"

"Infamous?" she teased, sitting beside him. "Is that what he is?"

"He and his companion, Elizabeth, are a notorious team, although she is much more fluid in her sexuality than he is."

"I don't doubt it. Craven is a very attractive man, I'll own to that. But he's much too sure of himself – not that confidence in a man is a bad thing. But his is an arrogance that is often associated with a false self-assurance, which can lead to an inability to take 'no' for an answer."

He caught onto her insinuation almost immediately.

"There is a difference between seduction and rape, Afina."

"A very slim and delicate difference. The very word 'seduction' implies an initial resistance."

"And what if the woman – or man – is simply playing hard-to-get? Isn't it a basic and natural desire to be perused?"

"Yes. But I feel a mutual understanding and affection are to be preferred over a single evening of carnal delight."

"Share that single evening with me and you may leave it feeling very differently," he teased. She laughed, pushing him away lightly.

"I think I'll just live out the rest of my existence without that knowledge, thank you," she smiled.

"You and your superior sense of morality," he exhaled in teasing frustration. "Are you ever going to let it go?"

"I think I've relinquished a great deal of it in the last year," she defended, the slightest twinge of regret in her voice.

"You are a vampire, now, Afina. You are beholden to no one. Don't let your antiquated habits and mode of thinking stagnate your progress."

"I'm already a killer, Vlad. We can work on the depraved seductress another time," she replied archly. She stood suddenly as if to leave his side, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back down onto the chaise so she was sitting beside him again.

"Now let's focus for five minutes," he insisted. She chuckled, trying to pry her hand out of his, but he held her steadfast. "Afina, I'm serious. Just five minutes." She relented and allowed him to hold her hand in both of his. "First and foremost, I need to remind you to be careful."

"Vlad…"

"No, I mean it. Agnar will not stand for you destroying a member of his coven under his own roof."

"Even if that someone is a traitor?"

"He'll need proof."

"I am the proof!" she insisted.

"But not proof enough."

"I didn't come all this way just to attend some insipid masquerade ball, Vlad. I've worked too hard and have waited too long. I want my revenge."

"And you'll have it. But you're going to need evidence of some other crime that is worth punishment by death."

"Isn't disobeying you enough?"

"It would have been six years ago, but I don't have the influence I once had. If we can find some other impediment and bring it to light before everyone to see, it could change things."

"Do you know of any other impediment?"

"I have reason to believe that Nicolæ may be in league with the Order."

"What?"

"Not directly. But vicariously through another vampire."

"What makes you say that?"

"Why do you think Isabella chose to go to this particular coven when she had been ordered to kill you? I told those vampires not to harm you, yet Nicolæ deliberately disregarded my orders. He knows that such an action is, or at least was, punishable by true death. Yet he did it anyway. A vampire only acts in defiance of his superiors when he feels safe enough to do so, which means he's expecting the protection of someone. If we can find some kind of physical evidence of his allegiance…"

"Then I can kill him, not only without repercussions, but your uncovering of this betrayal can put you back onto the path to power," she finished. "If we find this evidence," she continued after some thought, "do you think we should change up the plan to fully take advantage of this? You know – pardon the expression – milk it for all it's worth?"

"I was hoping you'd suggest such a thing."

"Or even better… do you still have those letters from the Vatican that you found on Raphael's body?"

"Yes."

"We could use those. If we can't find physical evidence, we can forge it."

"That is a brilliant idea. I can get my hands on a replica of the Order's seal in the city at first light while everyone sleeps."

"What about Zsófia? I don't see her taking kindly to a public execution. And according to Dorina, she and Nicolæ spend every moment together. She may be able to discredit any assertions we make."

"I'll take care of Zsófia. Come the masquerade ball, she'll be completely indifferent to him. She won't be an issue."

"Good."

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them before the Count finally decided to bid her good-night. But before he could reach the door, he paused for a moment and turned to face her.

"Afina?"

"Yes?"

"You were exceptional, this evening."

"Thank you."

"I mean it. I could not have been more proud of you. You have come a long way from the uncertain young woman I met over a year ago."

"Well," she began, making her way over to him, "you are an excellent teacher."

"And you are a superb student," he said with a smile. He lifted his hand, hesitantly at first, and tenderly caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You please me, greatly, my dear," he whispered gently.

His fingertips hovered over her lips before his thumb gently grazed over her mouth, his hand holding the side of her face. With a year of built up sexual tension between them, coupled with seeing the fruits of all of his hard work standing before him, it was becoming more and more difficult for the Count to suppress his basic instincts. He was awash in emotion – pride, pleasure, and desire. It was arrogant to think so, but he felt that lying with her, even for a single evening, would be the greatest reward any woman could ask for. But he stopped himself before he could think that way any further. She was his equal, he reminded himself. He had promised to treat her thus, and a consummation of their relationship, in the most physically intimate sense, would, in a way, destroy that sense of equality – no matter how wonderful it felt.

But he lacked the strength and sense of restraint to do nothing. So he leaned forward and kissed her forehead reverently, resting his forehead against her own for an extended moment before murmuring, "good-night," and leaving the room without another word or look.

Afina stood in that same spot for several minutes with her eyes closed, replaying his words and the single kiss to her brow over and over and over again in her mind. His approval meant more than she cared to admit to herself, but his respect for her wishes to not cross over into the physically intimate realm meant even more. She was perfectly aware of the tension between them. She knew his reputation, knew his basest needs and instincts – she had witnessed them from afar, when he didn't know she was watching. And the fact that he respected her and even to some degree adored her enough to keep his word made Afina warm down to her toes, despite the fact that she hadn't fed in several days.

She would make him proud once again, she resolved as she climbed into the large bed with its feather-down comforter. She would be his greatest success, and when the evening of the masquerade came, all the vampire world would know that with her at Dracula's side, nothing could stop him. And then she drifted off to sleep just as the sun began to rise, dreams of blood and bended knees swimming in her head.

My apologies for taking so long to update. Personal life has been... well, let's just avoid that topic altogether. I'm still not completely pleased with this chapter, but I was tired of sitting on it and needed to move on, so there you have it. I'm more keen to get to the masquerade chapter(s) anyway - as clichéd as a masquerade ball in a vampire story may be. I don't care. There are some clichés that I love just too much to avoid!

A huge thanks to those who reviewed, favorited, and followed in the recent week and a half since I last updated (you know who you are)! You are the reason I stick to writing this story! Your feedback has been wonderful and I always look forward to reading your reviews, as long or short as they may be.

Let me know what you thought of the chapter.

Note for the reader: For the non-Van Helsing aficionados out there (just as an FYI for future chapters), Volkov and Vilkova are two completely different palaces in this fictional realm of Budapest. Vilkova is the name of Dracula's summer palace (mentioned in the novelization of the film) and Volkov is of my own creation - just to avoid any confusion that may arise, because there will be references to both of these places in the next couple chapters. Actually, fun fact about Vilkova - there's actually a hotel in Prague (where the Budapest scenes were shot in the film) called the Vlkova Palace (so "Vilkova" without the "i"). And now you know a useless bit of Van Helsing trivia! Hooray!

Musical Influences:
[1] Fortress of Seduction, by Two Steps From Hell, "Classics, Vol. 1"
[2] Un Di Felice, Eterea, performed by Anna Netrebko & Rolando Villazón, "Violetta - Arias And Duets From Verdi's La Traviata"