Vlad The Impaler (VAMPIRE-ELF)

7. In Which He's In A Bad Mood

The Count carelessly tossed away the body of the skinny redhead after draining it of all its blood. She had had the misfortune of bearing the brunt of his anger that night.

He took out his white spotless handmade silk handkerchief and was wiping the stray blood running down his chin when Alexander, his right hand man burst through the French doors of his newly opened exclusive tavern.

"Ah, not again," he swore as he surveyed the four dead bodies on the floor of his now empty famous tavern. He had opened it the previous decade with his bonus from the Count. Dracula could be very generous if his orders were carried out to the dot.

"I was in a bad mood," Dracula replied simply as if that was an excuse.

Normally no one would dare to question his actions but Alexander had been present for the better part of his life that Dracula could describe him as somewhat of a friend. Therefore unlike everyone else in Dracula's kingdom, Alexander could afford to be a little insolent without worrying about his life.

"Now I have to recruit more serving maids. Again. Couldn't you have gone into the streets or a blood tavern?"

Dracula scrunched his face up in disgust.

"They're all walking symbols of that common infection, what is it? Leucosarysis? " he said with disgust.

"You know you're an Ingester and Neutraliser, Leucosarysis wouldn't affect you."

It was true, Dracula was a Matter Ingester, and he could basically eat anything without being harmed. His blood neutralised everything.

"Doesn't mean it's hygienic."

Alexander rolled his eyes. "Anyway, how is it going with the princess?" he asked curiously as he stepped over one of the dead bodies on his way to the cold room to get a drink.

"She might need a little convincing," Dracula hedged, knowing in his mind that that had to be the understatement of the year.

"A department we both know you thrive in," Alexander chuckled as he returned with a bottle of whiskey.

"She's too stubborn, strong-willed and ill-disciplined," the Count grumbled.

"Sounds like someone I know," Alexander teased him. Dracula shot his friend a warning glare that would have frozen any other person or vampire.

"I hit her."

The action had been more reflex than intent. Dracula was a vampire who did not like to be challenged ; he always responded violently. His bride had made the mistake of challenging his authority.

He had regretted it afterwards; another one of the many foreign feelings Erinna was arousing in him with each passing second. Like always when he was agitated, he went on a killing spree; but unlike other times, the guilt did not go away; it remained glued to him. He felt like scum.

He had never cared about any woman beyond the pleasure of one night and he was clueless on how to treat Erinna. He was a novice, in this new world of feelings and completely lost. How many mistakes was he going to be allowed to make before he lost Erinna forever?

"You must have had your reasons," Alexander said vaguely not wanting to question his master yet dying to give his friend some desperately needed advice.