Into The Shadows, page 88
"It's all right, Hera," he said softly, relishing in the feeling of having her in his arms at last. "If you wish to start over, I will more than happily comply."
He held the side of her face and pulled back so he could look into her eyes. His smile made warm tears rush down her cheeks and her heart fluttered.
"I'm just happy that I have you here with me."
She smiled up at him, gratitude and even a little confusion in her eyes as she looked back up at him.
"I don't understand you," she whispered through her tears.
He laughed.
"Nor I you. You were always a mystery to me," he teased, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "You still are," he added with a tender smile. "But we have time."
A comfortable silence lingered between them until the sound of Hera's phone ringing interrupted it.
"That's probably my father, wondering why I'm not home," she explained, reaching into his coat, which he was still holding.
"Well?"
"I'm psychic," she said with a laugh, brushing her tears from her face briskly as she brought the phone to her ear. "Hello? Hey. What's up?" Dracula motioned for her to wait a minute and she nodded, watching as he reentered his hotel room to put the coat away. "I'm in town. Why?... Well, I had something I needed to take care of… Hmm?... Oh, I'm with Vlad."
Dracula soon reemerged from his room with his keys in hand and he shut the door, instinctively taking Hera's arm and curling it around his.
"Tell him we ran into each other and I'm taking you to dinner."
"We ran into each other and he says he's taking me to dinner?" She sent him a peculiar look. He just smiled. "Yes, he's taking me out to dinner," she said, sounding a bit surprised. "No, I have no idea why."
"Tell him I'll have you home before midnight," he instructed once more, and Hera repeated the message to her father.
"He says thank you for keeping an eye out on me, and says he's willing to reimburse you for the gas that it'll take to get me home."
"Tell him that's…" he paused and reached for her phone as they entered the elevator. "May I?" Before she could protest, he had taken her phone. "Henry? Yes, this is Vlad. Look, that's completely unnecessary, and I wouldn't accept the money in any case... Yes, it's perfectly all right with me. It was my idea anyway... How'd she get down here? I'm not quite sure. I confess, I didn't ask."
He looked over at Hera for an answer.
"I hitched a ride with Jonnie who had to run some errands."
Vlad relayed the message and continued.
"Yes. Very well sir, I'll see to it that she does... All right... No, no, it's no trouble at all. My flight doesn't leave until late tomorrow afternoon and I'm having a taxi drive me to Heathrow after breakfast so sleep won't be a problem… I appreciate your concern, my friend, but I'll be fine... Yes… okay. Good night, Henry," and he hung up, handing the phone back to Hera, smirking slightly. "Your father is very protective of you," he mentioned idly as they made their way through the lobby and outside where he led Hera to the car.
"I know," was her answer. "I didn't realize you were leaving tomorrow."
"I had planned to leave the day after, but something came up at home."
"Oh," was all Hera said as he opened the passenger door for her. When he joined her in the car, she asked, "How long will you be away?"
"That's up to you," he replied truthfully as he inserted the keys and revved the engine. "How long would you like me gone?"
"I never said…"
"I'm teasing, Hera," he assured her with a smile. "The business I have with my estate will take a week tops."
"And then you'll come back?"
"Then I'll come back… and will stay as long as you'll have me."
She never said so, but Hera liked the sound of that.
"Well that's good, because I don't believe in long-distance relationships."
"Neither do I."
"Birthday?" was her first question. It should have been easy, but shockingly enough, it wasn't.
"You know, I can't remember."
"You can't remember your own birthday?" she chuckled.
"I know it's in November, and the year was obviously 1422…or maybe it was '32?" Hera laughed at how flustered he suddenly was. "I don't know, Hera! Ever since I became a mortal again, my memory isn't what it used to be."
"Well, you need a birthday, Vlad. What do you have on your driver's license?"
"November 13th."
"That works for me. Next question. Favorite color?"
"Ooh, that's a tough one," he teased, watching as she chuckled once more. "I find I still prefer black – it's classic and always fashionable."
"I never would have guessed," she played. "Alright then. Last book you read?"
"The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov."
"Last movie you watched?"
"I rarely ever go to the cinema, but some Jane Austen adaptation was on TV last night."
"Did you ever meet her in real life?"
"Yes, actually – at an assembly one evening in Bath; a rather unexpected encounter. She was a very clever woman – second only to you of course," he tacked on with a sly grin, loving the becoming flush in her cheeks. "As revolutionary as her work was, I was always a bit put-off by her male characters. Her heroes set an unprecedented standard for us men that is nearly impossible to reach. Take Mr. Darcy for instance, in Pride and Prejudice."
"I love Mr. Darcy!"
"See, my point! Every woman on this bloody planet wants a Mr. Darcy – tall, dark, handsome, brooding, and disgustingly wealthy. The fact of the matter is, there is no such person."
Hera sent him a look that he read immediately and he held up his finger in defense.
"Don't even say it!"
"I was only going to say that by comparison…"
"Hera, don't."
"Fine."
"When do I get to ask you some questions?"
She smiled, taking a sip of her water.
"Later. Now then, next question. Classical or Rock?"
"Both," he answered without hesitation.
"But if you had to pick one…"
"But I can't pick one. It all depends on my mood. Most of the time, I suppose, I like prefer what you call classical: Mozart, Beethoven, Mahler, Chopin, Brahms, Tchaikovsky. Have you run out of questions yet?"
Hera's smile never seemed to fade.
"Of course not, but since you're so eager to ask me a few…" and she motioned for him to begin.
Dracula straightened up in his seat and rubbed his hands together.
"Alright then. First question."
He watched as she leaned forward in her seat a little, her chin resting atop her folded hands, her eyes staring directly into his.
"Favorite film?"
"Somewhere In Time with Jane Seymour and Christopher Reeves."
He smiled in approval.
"Marvel or DC?"
"I'm not much of a comic fan, although my friend Hailey is obsessed. But if I had to choose – probably Marvel."
"Cello or violin?"
"Violin."
"Favorite opera?"
"Anything Russian. I attended the Royal Opera House a few months ago to see Prince Igor and absolutely loved it!"
This went on back and forth for well over an hour until the food was gone and they were both still seated at their table tucked away in the corner, a half-empty empty bottle of wine between them.
"Okay then… hmm, what to ask you next?"
"Ask me anything, Vlad. I'm not afraid," she challenged as she narrowed her eyes playfully.
He paused for a moment, smiling wickedly.
"Very well, I have another question for you, although, admittedly, I hesitate to ask it. You don't have to answer this, but I've been wondering about something for the past hundred years or so and it's been eating away at me."
She motioned for him to continue and he took a deep breath as if to steady himself.
"All right. Of all the times we made love, which time did you enjoy the most?"
He watched as her eyebrows shot to her hairline and he regretted even asking in the first place.
Too soon, you fool, his conscience nagged.
"Never mind, it was a stupid question. Incredibly arrogant of me. I apologize," he said, quickly backtracking, but she surprised him when she held her hand up, motioning for him to stop talking, which he did. Hera thought about it for a moment or two, staring intently at the steaming cup of dessert tea in front of her, a faraway look in her eyes, until at last, she answered.
"The second time," she replied in hushed tones, still observing the faint billows of steam in front of her, unable to meet his gaze at first, her cheeks gently flushed. "Even though the circumstances could be considered the worst. But memories of that evening with you have haunted me ever since."
She finally looked up and they gazed into each other's eyes in silence, the chaotic noise of the restaurant surrounding them seeming to fade into the background, until all that existed was the two of them. It was very evident that he too was replaying the mentioned incident in his head at that moment and the look in his eyes made her feel suddenly warm.
"Me too," he whispered.
"And then there was that time after, with the piano."
"I remember."
"And the way you… as I played..."
"Yes."
"And then after…"
There was suddenly a beautiful tension between them, eyes fixed on the other as they both quietly relived the past in their minds. But the moment was interrupted when a neighboring woman tossed her glass of wine at her date and then stormed out, breaking the spell. Hera and Dracula chuckled away the awkwardness and soon the exchange picked up again from where it had left off. By the end of it, there was nothing but laughs and rich conversation – but despite the delightful evening, something had clearly changed between them.
Hera had become so unused to being natural around the Count that at the start of the evening, it had taken her a little while to grow accustomed to him again. By by the end of the night as he drove her home, though there was still a degree of hesitation for both parties, the conversations had started to flow more naturally and the air between them became less tense or awkward.
In the days that followed, especially upon Count Dracula's return, they acted more like old friends than anything else, both satisfied in conversing, spending time with one another, reminiscing on the past. The gradual improvement in their behavior towards one another was something that pleased Henry Garret immensely.
It wasn't until two weeks later that Hera and Dracula's relationship started to turn into what it had been before.
Although the Count took special care in taking things slowly this time around, there was an evident growing affection between he and Hera, something far more profound than what had existed previously. Dracula reached for her hand more often, and in more public settings, even when Hera's father was present. They ate out frequently, filling their long autumn afternoons with lively conversation and the occasional impromptu excursion through the countryside.
The pace was leisurely, unhurried, and for that, Hera was immensely grateful. Count Dracula's respect of her feelings and her person allowed her the chance to both heal and grow closer to him than she ever had been before.
Though he was very much as he ever was, he had also developed in ways Hera finally allowed herself to take note of. In the past, when he had delighted in pushing her boundaries and mercilessly seducing her, Dracula was now very careful, attentive, and never demanding, seemingly content in enjoying every simple moment, savoring it all without fear of discovery or interruption or condemnation.
This agreeable development continued on for the following two months, yet despite their deepening relationship, any physical signs of affection remained strictly platonic - perhaps the occasional brief kiss on the cheek or brow, but never anything beyond.
Part of it was because Dracula wanted to make sure Hera was all right with everything. When she had previously expressed her desire to take their time instead of rushing things as they had done before, he took her request as gospel and never pushed for anything beyond the simple acts of endearment that they were sharing right now.
There were instances when it was clear they both craved for more, but Hera was privately grateful that he continued being so considerate of her feelings, her fears, and her cautiousness.
Although she had loved the adventure and insatiable passion that their relationship had experienced before, she came to appreciate the more leisurely pace. And though he never expressed it, Dracula found himself feeling very much the same.
The Count came over for dinner on one particular evening at Henry's invitation and the three of them had spent the duration of the meal wildly conversing over current politics, thoroughly enjoying each other's company.
While Henry Garret was in the middle of one of his speeches again about how the present day could relate to the history of the past, Dracula found his gaze continually wandering over to Hera, who sitting across from him. She was so busy listening to her father, adding in her own comments and observations, that she was hardly aware of the Count's regard.
The woman was particularly charming this evening, Dracula noted silently to himself. Not only had her disposition improved tremendously, but her overall person had as well. She was far more pleasant than she had been before, and Henry had expressed to Dracula his delight in the change, inquiring if the Count himself knew of the reason.
Naturally, he denied everything, but Dracula had his suspicions, and with that thought a small curve tugged at the corner of his lips as he continued to observe her, watching as the woman's eyes lit up when she laughed, how she rested her chin on her fist, how several sultry looking locks of hair hung idly in her face, her hair pulled back into a careless bun. She was dressed to perfection, from the crown of her head, all the way down to her feet.
The woman seated before him had never looked lovelier.
True, she had always been beautiful to him, and undoubtedly would forever remain thus, but there was a particular aspect of her this evening that had grown exceptionally tempting to his eye: her lips.
It had been ages since he had kissed her, really kissed her. Yes, the sweet simplicity of their present relationship was nice, but he was starting to ache for a change of pace, for the more vehement passion he had been deprived of over the last hundred years.
With every day that passed by, whether spent with her or not, that ache increased. Naturally, with how much he cared and respected Hera and being the gentleman he was, he never tried to persuade her or seduce her into anything that she wasn't ready for. In his mind, if she was ready, he would know. But the waiting never got easier, and watching her this evening, the way she moistened her lips with her tongue—it awakened a thirst that mere water could not quench.
Part of him – the old him – didn't care if she was ready for him to kiss her or not; he was going to do it.
"So Vlad, what do you think?" Henry suddenly asked, knocking Dracula out of his own private thoughts. Evidently, since he hadn't been paying any attention to the conversation for the last ten to fifteen minutes, he had to think on his toes.
"I think," he began casually as he placed his napkin on the table and pushed his chair back, "this meal has been exquisite, and the company, even more so," he said charmingly, earning a chuckle from Hera's father. "However, it is getting late, and I have a bit of a drive ahead of me."
Henry began to protest, but his words fell on deaf ears. Dracula's attention was fixed entirely on Hera. The woman said nothing, offered no complaint or objection. She simply looked up at him, a soft smile on her lips and an unknown look in her eyes. At last, the Garret's stood and Henry continued to talk as they escorted the Count to the door.
"I suppose we'll see you some other time this week?" Henry inquired.
"Oh, you can be sure of it," Dracula promised.
"Very well then. Good night, Vlad. Drive safe."
"I'll walk him out," Hera offered, moving through the door first and waiting for the Count to follow.
As soon as the door was shut, she began to make her way down the steps and towards his parked car just around the way, shaded from the moonlight.
"So," she began, glancing behind her briefly to make sure he was following, "I was thinking I'd drive down tomorrow and we could have lunch or something?" she offered.
He caught up with her quickly, soon walking beside her, reaching for her arm and curling his around her own, pulling her close.
"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to spend the day in Whitby tomorrow," he suggested. "The weather is a bit too chilly to get in the water, but I understand the sea is beautiful this time of year, and I'm kind of in the mood for some seafood. I find I've been craving something rich and creamy - perhaps pasta with shrimp or even buttered crab. Or lobster. I haven't had lobster in a while. Maybe with some garlic toasted bread with a hint of Parmesan, an antique chardonnay. What do you think?"
Hera chuckled as they stopped in front of his car, and she placed her hand carelessly on his abdomen.
"With the way you eat, Vladislaus," she teased, "your 'godlike' physique is going to disappear…. If it hasn't already." She playfully lifted up the end of his shirt to check and smoothed her palm over his abdomen, not really thinking anything of it.
"Looks like it's still there to me," he commented with a shrug, glancing down at her hand before his eyes found hers.
Still smiling, she playfully punched his sculpted abs and chuckled.
"Yes, for now. Lucky you, you're still hard as a rock."
When she got caught in his gaze, the woman finally noticed that he wasn't laughing. In fact, a very different expression was on his face, and she recognized it instantly. Deep in his eyes was that old, familiar primitive hunger, a look she hadn't seen in years, and as if a wave had just knocked her off her feet and swept her out to sea, a flood of emotions and memories came rushing back, and something hot ignited beneath her skin.
Without even thinking, she reached for the collar of his shirt just as he took hold of her face and then their mouths were colliding in a desperate kiss.
