Into The Shadows, page 43
Dracula struggled as they seduced him with their kisses, their hands, and their words.
There had been a time when he would have soaked in this kind of attention, a time when he'd take advantage of all three of them in a single sitting… but that was a time before Hera, his conscience whispered into his mind.
It was Hera he wanted right now, not these three.
But he was torn.
Hera was a mortal, a human not of his time who had feelings for one of his enemies, not him, even though the prince has used her. But she doesn't know, and she wouldn't believe you even if you told her, part of his mind insisted as his brides continued to shower his body in the kind of attention that most men only ever fantasized about.
You need to convince her that what she had with Velkan wasn't real, the other half of his conscience argued. You need to convince her so when the blow comes, it won't hit her so hard. You know that when she finds out, she'll come running to you. You can already sense the change in her. As much as she resists your advances, she is starting to trust you.
True, but I don't want to be the one to hurt her. She's been wounded enough already as it is. The truth about Velkan will only hurt her more…
She'll find out eventually. The sooner she does, the more chance you have of keeping her all to yourself. Remember why you wanted her to begin with, Vladislaus… you need her. She is the only one who can give you what you truly seek. Have you lost sight of that already? The time is drawing nigh. You need to make your move and soon. You don't have to fall in love with her. You just need to get her to trust you, and if you want to, make her fall in love with you so it will be harder for her to resist. Whatever you choose, you are running out of time.
Yes, he was running out of time…
He needed to find Hera.
He could take care of his brides later.
Besides, it was all just a game anyway… wasn't it?
XXIX
Much More Than a Kiss
Hera grumbled under her breath as she shoved a book back into its place on the shelf. She still had a few hours to kill before sunrise, which was when she usually went to bed—like everyone else—so she had decided to spend some of that time in the library. Maybe find something decent to read, while keeping her mind "Dracula-free" for a few hours, since he was so busy with his concubines. She honestly couldn't understand what he saw in them – other than their perfect looks, sexual prowess, and keen ability to adapt.
That made her stop in her tracks as her eyes widened.
Am I jealous of them? Hera asked herself.
She thought about it.
No, I couldn't be, she insisted silently. That's the most ridiculous thing ever! Why would I be jealous of three perfect women who have an arrogant shadow of a man as a lover? Ha! I'd have to be mental! Besides, I love Velkan… right?
Hera knew the answer to that question before she even finished it.
She didn't love Velkan. In truth, she probably never had in the first place. The woman had only been holding on to the notion in the vain hope that doing so would allow her to better resist the pull she felt towards Dracula. But she had been in the Count's house for nearly four months now and she had barely thought once of the gypsy prince during her stay here.
Whether it was Dracula's doing or some other force at work, Hera wasn't certain. But what she did know was that after Dracula knocked up his brides, he'd come looking for her, wanting his kiss. Well, she didn't care if he had technically won their game. She wasn't going to give him what he sought.
He just wanted to rub it in her face anyway and she wouldn't stand for it.
She deserved more respect than that.
Hera continued to walk through the rows of books, looking for something to read… anything really.
She just needed a proper distraction so she could stop thinking about Dracula.
Actually, she just needed to stop thinking, period, since her mind was still an open book to him.
Hera ran her slim fingers over a few more bindings before groaning in frustration as her contemplations returned back to Dracula again. Why was she still thinking about him?!
She needed something to do.
She needed to get out of this castle.
"I need a drink," the mortal concluded, promptly marching out of the maze of books and into the main sitting area of the library towards a large cabinet that, according to one of the servants, was stocked with a variety of liquors. Why a vampire needed so many options was beyond her, but right now she was grateful for the wide assortment.
"Count, you're turning me into an alcoholic," she muttered to herself, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and a glass. "Oh yeah Hera, that's good. Blame everything on the vampire," and with an exasperated sigh, she stalked out of the library and into the direction of that enchanted ballroom Marishka had shown her some time ago.
She felt like music—and drinking.
Not necessarily in that order.
Hera had never been much of a drinker before arriving in 1887 Transylvania. But all the stresses and drama that she had been forced to endure had pushed her into it. At least, that was her rationalization. What she didn't realize was that her newfound weakness was about to send her world of order and reason into chaos.
She entered the enchanted room, shutting the doors behind her. The thick heels of her boots created a light clicking sound as she made her way over to the piano and took a seat, opening the virgin bottle of whiskey and then pouring herself two fingers because it sounded like a good idea in her head.
The young woman would have preferred to leave the fortress and run off her pent up energy and frustrations, maybe get some proper fresh air, but she was stuck here and since she was desperate for some immediate relaxation that didn't require her to be naked in a tub of steaming water, she turned to drinking.
Hera raised her glass of whiskey to the moon.
"To you God… for sending me here to this blasted place and time," and she took a nice swig, nearly choking on the fowl stuff.
It burned as it ran down her throat and crawled through her system, and though the horrendous taste sent her shuddering, that fire in her belly felt good and she poured herself another glass before deciding to run her fingers over the piano.
She didn't really imagine anything as she played, so nothing in the ballroom really changed. The only difference was the moon appeared notably larger than before, and a mist spread over the dance floor, giving off the appearance of clouds.
It started off as a simple tune… one from her heart.
And with it, after the melody had been distinguished, came a lush array of chords and arpeggios, all swirled together like the alcohol in her brain, and when played together came the most heartfelt music Dracula had ever heard.
He had left his brides, explaining to them that he needed to pursue Hera, to continue to work on her so she'd join their side, and that even if it meant wooing her, he'd do it. His brides ate it up, especially after he claimed that they were the only ones he even remotely cared about, that he didn't want another bride.
But of all the lies the Count had told them over the centuries, that one in particular was the most profound.
The vampire would never admit it, but for reasons he could not yet understand, ever since he had met the mortal, he had felt drawn to her… like he could trust her. Everyone from this time period seemed to feel that way about her. Velkan had been ensnared by Hera's natural charm almost immediately; Anna, though stubborn, had felt that pull too, as had Boris. His brides - with the exception of Aleera - had also been rather quick to trust and respect the young woman, although that trust and respect was in limbo right now, since their master spent nearly every waking moment with her.
But Dracula…
There was something about the human that seemed to draw the vampire in time and time again, simultaneously igniting and nourishing a seemingly endless curiosity, an unfathomable need to know and understand her in every particular.
Her insecurities, her fears, her occasional irrationality and bad temper, her deep understanding and appreciation for history, her playfulness, the way in which she challenged him at every turn, inspiring him to try harder, to do better – Hera seemed so much like the sun to him, and try as he might, he could not resist her gravitational pull. Even now as she sat alone at the piano, pouring her soul into every note she played, he could not deny the ever present need to be near her.
Although he was blissfully unaware of the irreversible change the woman had inspired in him, Count Dracula was even more ignorant of the fact that he was slowly falling in love with not just some woman, but a human. And what was more – in that very instant, he couldn't even see that she had already begun to fall for him as well.
Tragically, both parties involved were too proud and in too great a state of denial to so much as recognize that what resided now between them had become so much more profound than mere lust or physical attraction. They were drawn to one another on an almost spiritual level, a calling of one soul to its perfect mate, its lost half.
They were like two stars preparing to collide, and had Hera and the Count been aware of the supernova-like explosion such a collision would create and the consequences – both good and bad – that would thus ripple through time, perhaps they would have proceeded with more caution and care.
But stars destined to crash and shatter into one another are prisoners to gravity, and nothing in heaven or hell could have kept Dracula from entering that room and silently shutting the door behind him.
He carefully bent the young woman's will with his own so his presence would go unnoticed and as he stealthily made his way across the floor, Count Dracula allowed Hera's music to saturate his very person. The song she was playing had to be the most soulful and intimate composition he had ever had the pleasure of listening to, and though her older sister, Athena, may have been the true virtuoso in the family, Hera was a remarkably gifted musician in her own right.
He loved watching how her fingers flew effortlessly across the keys, playing whatever came into her head, occasionally reaching for her glass as one hand continued to play.
An expression of disapproval narrowed his brows.
She was drinking again… Yes. That was his fault, he'd take full responsibility for ever introducing her to the dozens of liquors that she had never been exposed to before.
He was about to intervene when an idea so deliciously roguish crept into his mind. The woman still owed him a kiss for their game and in all honesty, he wanted to give her her freewill back, but she had to earn it. And he knew just how to do it.
Moving quietly towards her, he slid onto the piano bench beside her, breaking the spell she had been put under by the music and she ceased her playing.
"Why'd you stop?" he asked.
"I didn't know I had an audience," she said softly, her fingers sliding off the keys and into her lap as she stared down.
"You play beautifully," he commented.
She never looked up at him, remaining passive and as indifferent as she could.
"Thanks."
Silence lingered in the room for just a moment or two as she remained quiet and apathetic, trying to think of something to say as she sat there. Hera knew why he was here. He wanted his prize. His kiss. She was so certain that that was all he wanted from her. But was it?
"What do you want?" she asked, deciding to get some clarification.
"Your mind seems resolute on the answer already," he replied with a hint of resentment. It took her by surprise and she looked over at him with curiosity.
"Isn't that why you're here?" came her query. "Because you want your prize?"
"To be honest with you, Miss Garret, I hardly know why I'm in here. I just turned down a kind of saturnalia with my brides so I could come and sit here with you."
Hera cringed visibly and covered her ears with her hands.
"Okay, WAY too much information, Count! TMI! TMI!" she exclaimed, the two of them laughing. "Oh God, a vampire orgy is not an image I want in my head… just… no! How do you even manage to keep the three of them satisfied in one sitting anyway? Seems like too much work to me."
"I am extraordinarily talented," he said with a sly smirk and a sideways glance. Hera chuckled.
"Yes, well, I'd appreciate it if you kept the details of your exploits to yourself."
"My apologies. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he insisted, the remnants of that rare laughter still present in his eyes.
"So explain to me why you have three brides in the first place," she continued. "I mean, I guess I kind of get the appeal of more than one sexual partner, but three wives? And all under the same roof? Don't you ever get tired of drowning in the estrogen?"
"That's a fair point, and admittedly, I often find myself wondering what I was thinking," he said. "I seriously wish at times that I had stuck with one."
"I can only imagine."
She glanced over at him as the laughter died away, her face turning more serious.
"Why did you choose them, though?" came her question. "How long after Ilona did you turn to them? Verona came first, didn't she?"
His expression turned reminiscent as he stared blankly into the distance.
"It was only a matter of years after my demise before I found Verona," he explained. "You know, there are times when I look at her and I genuinely feel guilty for siring her," he suddenly confessed, not knowing why he trusted this human with such personal information, something he had never told anyone before, but it seemed like such a natural thing to do.
"Verona had so much to live for," he continued, "and I took that from her, with no thought for what that would mean to her down the road. She has proven to be the most devoted, has stood by my side through it all … although I often wonder if it's my innate willpower over her or her own choice. I think it's the former most of the time. But she provides equilibrium between the three of them. Where Aleera and Marishka tend to be the younger, more spirited of the bunch, Verona brings a balancing maturity, an elegance that the other two lack. Though don't tell them I said that. The last thing anyone in this household wants is for the three of them to quarrel."
Hera remained silent as he confided in her, not willing to break this moment. She was being permitted a rare glimpse of who he was, what he felt underneath all those layers of secrecy and torment.
"Then there's Marishka. Her father was all she had, until I had unwittingly fed off of him. Haunted with guilt and obsessed with her beauty, she became my second bride and for some time it was just the three of us, until I happened upon Aleera just under a century ago. I'm so hard on her. I think it's because she reminds me so much of Ilona. Sure, she's a jealous little minx, and that's mainly why I had chosen her. I had saved her you know. I found her one evening, in an alley in the city of Bucharest, on the verge of being defiled. I fed off her attacker and offered her a life she couldn't refuse. She used to call me her savior for years after that… until she realized what she had gotten herself into."
He grabbed Hera's glass of the whiskey and downed what remained in a single breath, hardly moved by the liquid amber fire that slid down his throat. Alcohol rarely offered the sometimes much-needed escape he so often craved.
"All three of them knew I could never love them, and they understood why. But… like most women, they are so damn persistent, surrendering to the delusion that they can change another person if they try hard enough." He refilled the glass and offered it to Hera, looking directly into her eyes. "Except you. You hardly care if I pay attention to you or if I act as though you're invisible. You know, as I do, not to get your hopes up, to be wary when trusting people, to keep them at a distance. You've learned the hard way."
Hera took the offered low-ball glass from the Count, watching as another appeared in his palm out of thin air and he poured himself a drink, raising it to her.
"To us," he toasted. "Our misfortunes and our tragedies; that God may reimburse us for our trouble."
"Amen to that," she muttered and he watched as Hera knocked back her drink like it was a shot before he followed suit, taking the bottle and pouring both of them another helping. "Lord, this stuff is disgusting," and she shuddered as the alcohol ran down her throat, setting her insides on fire. He nodded, placing the bottle back on the piano.
"It is… even when you're dead."
She laughed at his comment and leaned back on one arm, facing him a bit more now.
"I wouldn't know," she chuckled. "But I'll take your word for it."
"Do remember when you had that dream a while back… the one when you and I-"
She stopped him before he could even finish.
"You don't need to recount it for me. I think it's safe to say I will always know which one you're referring to," she insisted, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment at the memory. "Just get to the point."
"As you wish. Do you recall the part when I had asked you why you had been resisting me for so long? And then you explained—somewhat—that the reason was something along the lines of the fact that you were scared to give your heart and trust away because of all the times you've been disappointed and used."
"And then I said that I knew you truly felt nothing for me," she finished, following the admission up with a small sip. "Yes, I remember."
"How many poor relationships have you had?" he asked. "Just out of curiosity," and he took another drink, watching her closely.
The alcohol was getting to her, he could tell. He could already sense her mental wall crumbling, permitting him greater influence over her sense of trust and honesty. It was admittedly underhanded of him and if there had been a more honorable way to get her to open up, Dracula would have at least considered it – but Hera was so stubborn and he had learned that often times what she really needed was a push.
This was him pushing.
"Why do you ask?" was her query.
"Well, considering that we have a good few hours before the sun rises, and you still owe me a decent conversation, so… you may begin."
She rolled her eyes, but complied with his request.
"Are we talking actual relationships or would you like me to include flings?"
