Chapter 8:

Laila came down the stairs wearing a red, crushed velvet, floor length dress with three-quarter sleeves, a slight v-neckline that closed just below her collar bones, and a matching velvet ribbon that cinched in the dress near the top of her hips, showing off her curves exquisitely. Laila was just happy she didn't have to wear heels with this dress. She could walk in heels, and she could walk in floor length skirts, just not together at the same time. She had nearly sprained her ankle that way at her senior prom. No, Laila was instead enjoying the comfort of her thick black socks and white house slippers. Herbert had suggested losing the pink fuzzy ones and wear something that would go better with the dress.

She was incredibly nervous. What if the Count tried to turn her into his dinner? How would she be able to fight him off? She had looked around her room while getting changed for some sort of cross, but had no luck finding one. She began to wonder if making a cross with her fingers would work when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. It was von Krolock, leaning casually against the door frame with his arms crossed and an annoyed, impatient look on his face. As she approached, he stood upright and took her hand, gently kissing it.

"Do you always greet women this way?" Laila asked, avoiding eye contact with the man. She had to suppress a small chill that ran down her spine when his lips made contact with her skin. Whether it was from the coldness of his skin or how soft his lips felt, she couldn't tell.

"You will quickly learn, Laila," von Krolock stated, leading her into the dining room and pulling her chair out for her. "That I am not only old-fashioned by today's standards, but I am also impatient."

Laila held her tongue as the Count took the chair around the corner from her and she looked down at her dinner. Nothing special. Just penne with red sauce and mozzarella cheese with a side of bread to go with it.

"I do hope you enjoy pasta. Like I said last night, our pantry is a bit bare." The Count grinned, showing his fangs and Laila cringed as she lay her napkin in her lap. "Although, you probably can guess the true nature as to why now."

Laila hesitantly picked up her fork and began poking at her bowl of pasta. She was hungry, yes, but how did she know he hadn't drugged the food... again.

"Laila, dear," Laila looked up and saw the Count was looking at her with a mixture of reproach and boredom. "Just eat your dinner, please. I promise you, nothing illicit has been added to your food."

She hesitantly took a forkful of pasta and placed it in her mouth, savoring the succulent taste of the pasta; the perfect balance of vegetable, meat, and cheese. Before she knew it, half her bowl was gone and the Count chuckled, causing her to look up at his amused smirk.

"You certainly eat fast," he remarked, resting his face against his fist, relaxing back in his chair. For some reason, Laila felt her face grow hot.

She quickly swallowed and replied, "Sorry. I was really hungry."

"Trust me, I know the feeling," the Count replied with a bitter edge to his voice. Laila jumped as he suddenly called for Daniel. The boy immediately came out of the kitchen with a wine glass and a single, marked bottle of red wine. Daniel set out the glass in front of Laila and carefully poured the fragrant French liquid until the Count dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Laila could feel the Count's eyes on her as she ignored the glass and continued eating.

"Are you not thirsty?" the Count asked.

Laila swallowed and looked up at him. She didn't trust anything the Count was providing for her, but she didn't want to be rude and set off what she could tell was a terrible temper. "I'm not a huge fan of wine."

"Try it. I can almost guarantee you'll enjoy it."

Laila set down her fork and reached for the glass, taking a small sip. She was honestly surprised. It was a very smooth wine, with just the right amount of sweetness and with a beautiful aroma.

The Count chuckled, "Was I not right?"

All Laila could do was nod as she finished her dinner and when she finished, Daniel came out and collected her dishes again without a word.

"Is he always so quiet?" Laila asked once Daniel was out of the room.

"Daniel is a mute," the Count explained calmly, sitting upright and fixing his eyes on her once again. "The boy hasn't spoken for as long as we've had him."

"How long has he been here?"

"Does it matter?" The Count dismissed, leaning forward. There was something in his eyes that Laila didn't like and made her feel incredibly uneasy. The Count flashed her a fangy grin and said, "Let's get down to my supper, shall we?"

Laila began to panic. She knew this was going to happen, and she had nothing to defend herself with. The Count stood and slowly made his way over to her. Laila automatically stood and began backing up, looking for something- anything- that could ward off the looming vampire. Her eyes darted to the side and saw two brand new, unlit candles lying out on the table; replacements for the ones that were about to go out in the candelabra. Laila grabbed the sticks and held them up in the form of a cross, standing her ground. The Count's reaction was not what she expected.

He suddenly stopped and stared at her blankly for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing coldly. He closed the gap between them instantly and took the candles out of her hands, placing them back on the table.

"Only crosses wielded in faith have any effect on me," the Count said, backing her into a chair. As soon as Laila fell into the chair, the Count was standing over her, his strong hands placed on either side of her on the arms of the chair. There was no way for her to get out.

"Shhhh... It's going to be alright," von Krolock said in a soothing tone, taking a hand and gently brushing a strand of the now trembling girl's hair back behind her ear. His eyes sparkled with that same look, and her uneasiness grew.

Laila closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. "Just, get it over with," she said quietly.

"That's kind of you to offer, but I don't need that much," the Count said calmly. Laila turned to him and opened her eyes, confused as the Count knelt down in front of her. Laila stared at the Count, completely dumbstruck by his sudden switch in demeanor. That look was gone, whatever it was. He seemed so much calmer now, so less... predatory. He began to lift Laila's wrist to his mouth. "I just need a taste..."

Laila snatched her hand away, but remained in her seat. She was not amused.

"You couldn't have told me that earlier? You scared me half to death! That's no way to treat your guest!"

Von Krolock grimaced and forcefully took her hand back, holding it firmly so she couldn't pull away again.

"You're not a guest, Laila," The Count said sternly before quickly piercing Laila's skin with his fangs, enough to cause her to yelp in pain yet shallow enough to only bring forth a small trickle. Laila turned her head away as the Count began to drink up the small trickle of blood that flowed from her wrist. After a long moment, though, he pulled away and pressed a handkerchief to her wounds. Licking his lips, the Count stood and scowled down at her.

"You belong to me now."