Vlad The Impaler (VAMPIRE-ELF)

6. Dinner and Attitudes

He felt her presence as she approached, before she even appeared.

His canines unashamedly extended, becoming sharp little daggers that grazed his bottom lip, as the life pumping through her veins called out to them. The scent of her blood was strong and intoxicating, laced with a rare flavour he could not place, not when it was so distracting and nearly driving him crazy.

Hunger and bloodlust flooded his system and he had to clench his fists, his pallid nails digging into his palms, to stop himself from leaping at her and ripping into the juicy flesh of her throat.

A soft knock sounded at the heavy African mahogany door of his study. He flicked his hand, telekinetically opening the door from his stuffed high back chair, behind the imported desk that adorned his primitively styled study.

He hurriedly and forcefully retracted his canines; he didn't want to scare his bride.

The Count stopped all action and zeroed in on his bride when she finally came into view. Awe rocked him off balance and the urge to fall at her feet to beg to worship at her alter for the rest of his eternal life was strong.

The dress moulded her provocative, generously curvy body to perfection, accentuating every breathtaking feature. Her hair was in a complicated updo that left her long fair neck exposed to his eager and itching canines. He bit his tongue to keep the rebellious things under control.

Moving at vampire speed, he appeared at her side in a millisecond. She blinked, a bit startled, he guessed.

"You look beautiful," he told her honestly.

"Is that why I am here? To be a trinket for you?"

He frowned, not pleased by her sarcasm. He understood kidnapping her might have been a bit extreme, but he was trying to make amends.

"You are here to be my queen,  I already said that. If you wish to degrade yourself to a mere ornament, that is up to you."

She closed her eyes, as if asking for patience. When she opened them, she looked calmer, the storm that had been brewing in them temporarily banked.

"Does my choice in this matter at all? I don't want to be your bride." Her voice was soft, deliberately imploring as if being level-headed would make it possible to reason with him.

He stepped closer, his lip brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke and his hand on the small of her back. He felt her violent shudder but she did not move back. So strong.

"You have only seen my unpleasant side, love. Sometimes I have to be cruel to get things done but I assure you, I can be a very generous vampire," he murmured in her ear, then let his lips move down to brush against her jaw.

He felt her breath quickening and her blood pulsing faster through her body as her panic rose. It reached a breaking point and she pushed him away from her. He allowed it.

"Does being generous include letting me go? Ever?"

His jaw hardened.

"No."

She nodded, as if she had known this all along.

"Did you like your dress?" He changed the subject. There was no use on lingering on unpleasant topics. Erinna would come to accept her new reality as his bride, sooner or later.