Dinner and attitudes

The dress was beautiful; an armless gown with a sweetheart neck that popped her ample cleavage in a graceful yet enticing manner. It complimented her hourglass figure, highlighting her narrow waist and flat stomach. It flared from the waist, down to the edges of its skirt which swept the floor. The edges were expertly and beautifully lined with rubies, making her wonder just how rich he was.

Yet after all was said and done, Erinna found herself hating the gown. It was not because of its appearance because it was one of the finest designs she had ever come across, the material so soft and undoubtedly expensive. Fit for royalty.

She hated it because of what it represented. The freedom of choice the Count had taken when he had decided to tell her what to wear. Because as much as she wanted to rebel, she knew there was little she could do. She would play along until she came up with a plan. It was the only way to win against Dracula because thinking she could match him physically was madness and a suicide mission.

She stood in front of the mirror in the darkroom, regarding her appearance and how the dress fit her like a latex glove. Had the Count chosen it himself? Erinna cringed when she tried to think how he could have known her size, the criteria he had used in choosing her dress and underwear.

Erinna felt a familiar presence approaching and turned around just in time to see Hope, her snow white pet dove fly in through the window.

Her eyes widened in shock before a joyous giggle escaped her soft lips. She held out her hand and Hope landed on it. She cooed to the animals stroking its feathers.

“How did you get here?” Erinna had learnt of her ability to speak with animals when she was four and since then had been able to converse with any animal of her choice.

“Your father knew the evil count had you. I came to tell not to worry; the Elves have not forsaken you. There is a rescue plan,” Hope told her hurriedly. She also seemed to understand the danger their current position would put them in if the count was to walk in.

“A rescue plan, are you sure? I can sense his magic and it’s not good magic. He is very powerful, he has a spell in this room and it’s preventing me from telepathically reaching my father. I don’t want anyone to risk their life on my account,” she voiced her worries. It would be cruel to lead her people into an already lost battle. She might despise her captor but she wasn’t oblivious to the extent of his powers.

“You’re worth every life princess Erinna. Stay put; don’t let his darkness overshadow your light.”



He felt her presence as she approached, before she even appeared, making his heartbeat accelerate. 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, 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 her juicy 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 Victorian styled study. He hurriedly and forcefully retracted his canines; he didn’t want to scare his bride.

The Count’s heart skipped a beat when his bride finally came into view. Awe knocked him off balance and he very nearly fell at her feet to beg to worship at her alter for the rest of his eternal life.

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

He moved at vampire speed, appearing at her side in a millisecond. She blinked a bit startled he guessed.

“You look extremely beautiful my love,” he told her honestly.

“Is that why you kidnapped me? To be your trophy?”

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

“I do not like your attitude,” he said with a frown that portrayed his displeasure.

“And I do not like you period.” His face might not have showed it but her words felt like a sharpened stake piercing his undead heart. A feeling foreign and unappreciated.

“Did you like your dress?” He asked because he definitely had. He could spend his whole life, which was basically forever, looking at her.

“I do not think anything associated with you is on my ‘like’ list.”

He roughly grabbed her upper arm, pulling her to his side with very little finesse. She was trying his patience.

“Mind your tongue princess; I do not take insults lightly.”

The End

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