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arabwelHere is another bit of teh nano. Shorter than the first one and nowhere near as interesting, I'm afraid..l but hope you will like. all the wartnings apply.
Number of gratuitious Lordi references: 1
Chas watched the girl swallow hard. He clenched his hand around the crucifix and pulled it from his pocket, throwing it towards her.
To his surprise, she didn’t shirk back – thralls did.
She blinked, and picked up the rosary, the beads clinking against the scratched wood of the table. “Want me to swear by this? Want be to swear by the cross that I have no master, I am no one’s pet or toy or thrall, and that I want to help you find and kill that bastard Dominic?”
“That would be a start,” Zladko growled quietly. “Then you can tell me why your neck’s full of bite marks.”
the girl’s blue eyes darkened and her knuckles turned white around the crucifix. “Fine. I swear by the holy cross, by Jesus Christ, our Lord, that I am not a vampire’s toy nor pet, nor do I have a master. I sweat that I want to help you to find and vanquish Dominick.” She fell silent. “Satisfied?”
”The marks,” Zladko growled, his voice sending a delicious shudder down Chas’s spine; his arm throbbed where he’d cut it, where Zladko’s fingers had dug into the cuts when the older man fucked him against the dirty wall.
“Long story.” the girl looked sullen, and almost hesitant. Someone, he.. he tried to make me a thrall. He didn’t succeed, I don’t know why, he couldn’t… he couldn’t cloud my mind,” she shrugged.
Chas raised an eyebrow. Mental shields that strong? interesting. “And now you’re what, running away?”
She looked down. ”I…”
Before she could continue, a loud crash came from across the room. Both Chas and Zladko stood, weapons at ready; Zladko was gripping his Glock, whereas Chas’s blood-stained fingers were wrapped around the bonsai oak still in her pocket.
“Ye dog, ye think ye can jest say no to us? Yer not coughing up the dough, dog, ye be coughing up a lung!”
Chas blinked when he saw what was going on. there, on the bar, stood a grizzled creature about a foot tall, clutching the bartender by the lapels of his shirt – and the bartender, a guy closer to seven foot than six with an unibrow looking like Mothra’s baby, was not getting up and shaking him off.
”Holy Mary on a moped,” Chas swore quietly, “It’s the gnomes.”
**
It was such a shame, Dracula thought as the limo passed through the never-silent streets of the city, that so many preternaturals clung to the past.
Take the wizard he had just seen – still cloistered in a tower, crumbling around him, hidden from the prying eyes of tourists by nothing but his bad-tempered nature. Such a shame, it was…
He was embracing the twenty-first century with as much passion as he once had embraced young maidens in their freshest bloom. The heartbeat of humanity had changed as the world had, and he had no intention to be anywhere but at the pulse point.
Of course, he could have been even closer still – at the pulse point that was the young, the beat that was their music… but he had no desire for such publicity. No, he left that to others – like Lady Paysant and her little band. They were doing well, in their guise of men as monsters. Enthralling the masses through something very primal.
His idle musings were interrupted by a sharp pang of pain where his blackened heart lay. His face twisted in a grimace of anger – he knew this feeling. One of those bound to him was in pain…
Mari!
The girl was under threat - serious threat. He was certain she could have prevailed against those fools he had sent her to accompany, but this?
With a snarl, he hit a switch on the door of the car, the sunroof slid open, far too slowly - even before it was entirely open, the back of the car was filled by a cloud of bats escaping into the cool night air.
**
The bar was in chaos.
The gnomes had decided to make an example out of the Hanged Man – they were breaking things, berating up the patrons, and fuck, Mari thought hazily, did she smell smoke?
She’d never realized garden gnomes could be so vicious.
Most of the clientele had fled, but some were fighting back – a big, hulking brute, at least eight feet tall was fighting three of the gnomes… and losing, Mari realized with gasp.
Chas and Zladko were standing with their backs against the wall, Zladko holding his guns and Chas a… miniature tree? The blond man was chanting something that seemed unintelligible but it seemed to keep the creatures at bay…
A sudden, sharp tug in her hair made Marui cry out and stumble, away from the two men, away from what protection Chas’s chant had offered.
She fell down, the creature clinging to her hair falling on top of her – a foot-tall gnome, with blazing red hair and ferocious eyes that screamed of insanity and bloodlust.
”Yer gonna die, lassie,” the gnome cackled, its immensely strong hands grasping her by the throat. They should have been far too small to hold her but the long fingers curled, a crushing pain in their wake…
Bright sparks and blackness warred at the edges of her vision as she struggled to breathe, to dislodge her attacker, to live….
Vlad…
Suddenly there was a loud noise, a bang, and the gnome on top of her seemed to disintegrate from within in a shower of gore and crumbling clay.
She gasped, her chest heaving s she gulped down the sweet oxygen, her vision still swimming as she looked at the man holding the smoking gun.
Zladko smirked. “Explosive rounds.”
”With mistletoe,” Chas added. “Get here, love, things are about to get messy.”
**
They made it out of there alive, before the place went up in flames .
The squalid little motel they stumbled into did not care to ask questions about their sooty, bloody appearance – only hard cash.
Chas was supporting the stumbling girl, Mari – she’d gotten quite a bad whack from that gnome before Zladko had wasted it. The little fuckers were as strong s an ox, and vicious little buggers.
H felt a pang of guilt, just dumping her in a room on the bed that barely passed as not being filthy, but he had to talk to Zladko lone.
In the room they shared, he threw himself on the lumpy chair and crossed his long legs. “What are we gonna do w with her, mate?”
”You tell me,” Zladko said quietly; he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, cleaning his guns. “You dragged her along.”
”Yeah, and you saved her life,” Chas reminded him. “She was speaking the truth – she’s got no master. She wants to help us.”
Chas did not nee to elaborate – the crucifix, now nestled safely in his pocket, he’d gotten from the Old Man himself. It was not exactly a lie detector, but if the girl had lied when swearing the oath… well, it wouldn’t have been pretty.
Zladko didn’t look up. “And is that the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
Chas shrugged. “I dunno, but I figure, if we keep an eye on her, she might be useful,. She’s not a thrall, which means she’s got some really good plating in that pretty skull of hers.”
Now that got reaction out of Zladko; the Russian raised his head, his nostrils flaring.
“Jealous?” Chas taunted.
“No,” Zladko said with a wolfish expression, setting his weapons aside. “Because I know you’re mine.”
**
A he pushed Chas down on the bed, Zladko briefly remembered the first time they’d done anything like this – had it been this very same motel? He couldn’t remember, the places had blurred together a long time ago…
Snarling, he bit the curve of neck and shoulder, almost hard enough to draw blood. The blond arched his back, his hard cock digging into Zladko’s side through the fabric of their clothes.
”Impatient little bitch,” Zladko murmured, lapping at the reddening skin, “Don’t worry, friend, I will fuck you.”
“You better will,” Chas gasped as Zladko’s hands found his wrists and pinned them down.
it was hard and fast and messy, just like it always was, but it left both of them sated, slumping together on the bed. Zladko knew, faintly, that this was wrong in many, many levels but as he pulled Chas’s head against his shoulder, the warmth seeping into his bones, he knew it was right as well.
As they drifted asleep, neither man noticed the cold fog drifting in under the door.
**
So these were the hunters he had sent his Mari to.
Dracula watched the two men, deeply asleep on the bed. One dark, the other light, they were quite the fetching contrast, twined together in the aftermath of brutal passion.
He had believed them hapless, but the fact that they had saved his Marti from the accursed gnome spoke well of them – indeed, so had Madonna. They were not the sort of zealous professionals as, say, Van Helsing and his league were, but they had talent and passion for their hunting craft.
They would be useful.
And they had saved Mari. He had been there, arriving at the edge of the room the moment the dark one had aimed his gun at the gnome – he had watched the two of them rescue her, shield her, take her into safety. As soon as he knew she was on the path to safety, he had let his anger flare and the fire of his wrath had engulfed the scene.
They had left her alone and come here, into this room, to indulge in their passion. He knew well the lusts that took over a warrior after battle –it seemed that the dark one had wound quite the willing companion in the blond magician.
He could see why - the blond was all sharp planes and angles., but in no way frail; he was the perfect compliment to the dark one’s built warrior’s body. Indeed, watching them twined so, the evidence of coupling still strong in the air, Dracula felt a stirring in his loins.
Perhaps, he mused, if they succeeded in their quest, he would pay some closer attention to them… but now, he had elsewhere to be.
Concentrating, he once again began to turn insubstantial, his body dissolving into cold fog that slowly seeped out of the room – to where his Mari lay. It was fortunate for him that the big welcome signs were everywhere at the hotel; they negated the blasted need for invitation.
She lay on her bed, not stirring as he entered the room. She was still fully dressed in clothes much like those she wore when he first saw her, save for the lack of heavy jacket. Her head was resting upon one pale hand as she had curled into a ball.
“Wake, girl,” he murmured, his eyes flashing red- she did not stir.
A part of him was amused – she was impervious to his mental touch, so his words would not stir her unless they were as loud as a mortal’s… but he knew he could wake her in other ways. Much more pleasurable ways.
**
It was the touch of cool finger son her face that woke Mari from her slumber. The deft touch was as delicate as a spider’s web, she was certain she was still dreaming as her eyes fluttered open.
The vibrant green, tinged with red that met her gaze was both so alien and yet so familiar…
“Vlad,” she breathed, reaching out to touch his face.
His eyes flared crimson, and suddenly she realized that she was not dreaming – that she was awake, that he had come to her, and she had dared to address her prince so…
”Yes,” he growled softly, his eyes still the colour of blood as he leaned down, his lips nearly brushing hers. “You may call me that, my Mari…”
His Mari.
“Yours,” she whispered, heat suffusing her body from where his cold hands brushed against her, “Only yours, my prince...”
He growled a little and she gasped, her back arching as his touch shifted. “Only yours, Vlad,” she whispered, her heartbeat quickening even more.
“Yes.”
She didn’t know what happened to her clothes – one moment he was simply stroking her face, their eyes locked, and the next she was pulled tightly against his chilled body, her heated skin burning under his touch.
There was both urgency and tenderness in his embrace that she had never felt before; she found herself whispering his name, his Christian name time after time instead of incoherent screaming as he took her, no, as he…
As he made love to her.
Afterwards, he did something he had never done before; he gathered her in his embrace, pulling her tightly against his chest; if his heart had beat, she knew it would have thundered in her ears….
“Why do you cry?” he whispered, and Mari was startled; she was, indeed crying, the heat on her cheeks that of wet tears that flowed freely.
”I... I don’t know,” she replied, closing her eyes as his long fingers came to stroke her sweat-soaked hair.
“Cease,” he said softly, his tone the familiar, comforting reassurance of a man used to being obeyed, “And be happy, my bride-to-be.”
**
the sunlight didn’t make it through the grimy windows to curt into his eyes, but Chas groaned anyway, pulling the pillow over his face. After a moment, he changed his mind and pushed the disgusting-smelling thing away.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Zladko grunted from the other side of the room; even with his eyes closed, Chas knew that the Russian was cleaning his guns. He could have recognized the distinctive smell of the oil and the sound of soft cloth against metal anywhere.
“Morning,” Chas groaned s he attempted to sit up; to his surprise, he was not tied up. “How drunk did I get last night?”
”If you mean, did you pass out and therefore e make it unnecessary for me to tie you up, no,” Zladko said wryly. “You did get drunk enough to bring in the girl, though.”
Chas blinked. The girl? “Did I..”
”No, you didn’t,” Zladko smirked. “You think I’d let you? No, you didn’t do anything with her, threat than make her swear on the Pope’s crucifix that she was not a thrall nor had a master despite the fact that she’s clearly been some vampire’s bed toy not too long ago.”
”Christ,” Chas moaned, letting his head drop into his hands. “I need to stop drinking.”
**
Now, in the little sunlight the grimy windows permitted, the girl looked even paler than the night before. Perhaps it was partially due to the dark clothes she wore, still rumpled and stained from the night before, but Zladko was certain there was something not quite right here.
And... the scent of a vampire was stronger now.
Perhaps it was because here, unlike at the bar, there was no mingling of preternatural scents and incense to mask it… but that seemed unlikely. It was much more likely that she’d had a vampire visit her – or maybe, she’d gone out and sought one.
Zladko knew that she had no vampiric master… so the more likely explanation was that she was one of those people who’d been bitten, and gotten hooked. No doubt those clothes that left only her face and hands visible hid a veritable mass of marks… someone like her, plump and healthy-looking, was probably able to let quite a few bloodsuckers have a go at her before it gave her any trouble.
“Morning,” she said, blinking a bit as she sat up straight in the chair she had been huddling in. “I don’t think you are just coming to take me out for breakfast, are you?”
Zladko shook his head. “No. We are going to sit down, girl, and you are going to tell us all you know about Dominick.”
**
He had let her well before the sun graced the sky with its infernal rays; there were certain things he needed to attend to.
Thee derelict building he slowly approached, cold fog swirling around his dark form, housed the mob of gnomes- they believe d they ruled the shady underworld of the supernaturals; that they were the mob.
They might very well have been; he did not care. The only thing he cared about was that these creatures had dared to touch what was his. The one who had directly assaulted Mari was nothing but fragments of clay and leather now, but the others… oh, they would all pay.
There were two gnomes guarding the entrance; to one their stature, the double doors were grand but to Dracula, they were barely adequate – had he been forced to stoop his head when stepping in, he would have blown them through with the strength of his will.
The guards, of course, attempted to stop him – but despite their unnatural strength they were no match for him, and their shattered remains were cast aside.
Inside, the leader of the gnomes sat upon a high chair, resembling a throne.
”Who dares?” he cried out, “Fellas, get the big ‘un, he ain’t gonna stand here.”
”I dare,” Dracula said coldly, throwing his arms wide, he no longer wore a cloak and some of the dramatic effect was lost, but even so, the gnomes stopped; only the foolhardiest carried on.
As they approached, he growled, his eyes burning crimson as he reached for something he had not wielded in a long while – from he folds of his long coat he drew a sword, the same one he had struck into a stone cross centuries ago, and began his bloody task.
**
Mari sighed. She had told them what she knew about the vampire they were chasing – not a bloody lot – and her hand still felt uncomfortable. They had told her to hold the crucifix as she spoke and although she had not been burned, her pal m was reddened and tingling.
She supposed it was because she had never drunk Dracula’s blood – she had only provided for him. Even the night before, their... joining had not been complete. Therefore, the holy object only gave her discomfort instead of searing pain.
They were having breakfast in a small, greasy diner; Mari had a large cup of tea to go with her pancakes whereas both the men were drinking bitter black coffee and eating greasy, fried food that made her stomach turn.
“So,” She said after a while. “What are we going to do now?”
”Eat,” Chas mumbled through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
Mari shuddered. “I meant, after we eat?”
”We need to go back to our place to get some supplies,” Zladko said quietly. “You’ll be coming along.”
Mari wrinkled her nose. “You wouldn’t happen to have a… selection of clothes in my size, or do I need to go shopping?” she gestured towards her shirt, which still bore bloodstains. “I’m not exactly presentable.” She had almost said have a sister but she knew that would not have gone well – Zladko’s eyes were flashing dangerously even now.
”No,” the Russian said, his voice even quieter now. “We can stop by a market and you can get something.”
Mari finished her meal quietly. It was not long until they made their way to the store. Under the fluorescent lamps she picked out some clothes quickly, not bothering to try them on; she was buying a few sizes up so they should fit her easily enough.
“Looks like the gnomes pissed someone off,” Chas remarked quietly as they made their way to the checkout; the blond nodded towards the tabloids on the rack, few which had headlines that definitely caught Mari’s interest.
Halloween comes early! One of them proclaimed, the picture on the cover that of garden gnomes impaled on a fence, gore everywhere.
Mari bit her lip, trying to not to laugh in a way that would have been a maniacal giggle. Dracula.. Vlad was living up to the name he had earned as a mortal. And he had done it for her sake.
In a way anyway. She was, after all, the particular possession of his they had messed with.
Number of gratuitious Lordi references: 1
Chas watched the girl swallow hard. He clenched his hand around the crucifix and pulled it from his pocket, throwing it towards her.
To his surprise, she didn’t shirk back – thralls did.
She blinked, and picked up the rosary, the beads clinking against the scratched wood of the table. “Want me to swear by this? Want be to swear by the cross that I have no master, I am no one’s pet or toy or thrall, and that I want to help you find and kill that bastard Dominic?”
“That would be a start,” Zladko growled quietly. “Then you can tell me why your neck’s full of bite marks.”
the girl’s blue eyes darkened and her knuckles turned white around the crucifix. “Fine. I swear by the holy cross, by Jesus Christ, our Lord, that I am not a vampire’s toy nor pet, nor do I have a master. I sweat that I want to help you to find and vanquish Dominick.” She fell silent. “Satisfied?”
”The marks,” Zladko growled, his voice sending a delicious shudder down Chas’s spine; his arm throbbed where he’d cut it, where Zladko’s fingers had dug into the cuts when the older man fucked him against the dirty wall.
“Long story.” the girl looked sullen, and almost hesitant. Someone, he.. he tried to make me a thrall. He didn’t succeed, I don’t know why, he couldn’t… he couldn’t cloud my mind,” she shrugged.
Chas raised an eyebrow. Mental shields that strong? interesting. “And now you’re what, running away?”
She looked down. ”I…”
Before she could continue, a loud crash came from across the room. Both Chas and Zladko stood, weapons at ready; Zladko was gripping his Glock, whereas Chas’s blood-stained fingers were wrapped around the bonsai oak still in her pocket.
“Ye dog, ye think ye can jest say no to us? Yer not coughing up the dough, dog, ye be coughing up a lung!”
Chas blinked when he saw what was going on. there, on the bar, stood a grizzled creature about a foot tall, clutching the bartender by the lapels of his shirt – and the bartender, a guy closer to seven foot than six with an unibrow looking like Mothra’s baby, was not getting up and shaking him off.
”Holy Mary on a moped,” Chas swore quietly, “It’s the gnomes.”
**
It was such a shame, Dracula thought as the limo passed through the never-silent streets of the city, that so many preternaturals clung to the past.
Take the wizard he had just seen – still cloistered in a tower, crumbling around him, hidden from the prying eyes of tourists by nothing but his bad-tempered nature. Such a shame, it was…
He was embracing the twenty-first century with as much passion as he once had embraced young maidens in their freshest bloom. The heartbeat of humanity had changed as the world had, and he had no intention to be anywhere but at the pulse point.
Of course, he could have been even closer still – at the pulse point that was the young, the beat that was their music… but he had no desire for such publicity. No, he left that to others – like Lady Paysant and her little band. They were doing well, in their guise of men as monsters. Enthralling the masses through something very primal.
His idle musings were interrupted by a sharp pang of pain where his blackened heart lay. His face twisted in a grimace of anger – he knew this feeling. One of those bound to him was in pain…
Mari!
The girl was under threat - serious threat. He was certain she could have prevailed against those fools he had sent her to accompany, but this?
With a snarl, he hit a switch on the door of the car, the sunroof slid open, far too slowly - even before it was entirely open, the back of the car was filled by a cloud of bats escaping into the cool night air.
**
The bar was in chaos.
The gnomes had decided to make an example out of the Hanged Man – they were breaking things, berating up the patrons, and fuck, Mari thought hazily, did she smell smoke?
She’d never realized garden gnomes could be so vicious.
Most of the clientele had fled, but some were fighting back – a big, hulking brute, at least eight feet tall was fighting three of the gnomes… and losing, Mari realized with gasp.
Chas and Zladko were standing with their backs against the wall, Zladko holding his guns and Chas a… miniature tree? The blond man was chanting something that seemed unintelligible but it seemed to keep the creatures at bay…
A sudden, sharp tug in her hair made Marui cry out and stumble, away from the two men, away from what protection Chas’s chant had offered.
She fell down, the creature clinging to her hair falling on top of her – a foot-tall gnome, with blazing red hair and ferocious eyes that screamed of insanity and bloodlust.
”Yer gonna die, lassie,” the gnome cackled, its immensely strong hands grasping her by the throat. They should have been far too small to hold her but the long fingers curled, a crushing pain in their wake…
Bright sparks and blackness warred at the edges of her vision as she struggled to breathe, to dislodge her attacker, to live….
Vlad…
Suddenly there was a loud noise, a bang, and the gnome on top of her seemed to disintegrate from within in a shower of gore and crumbling clay.
She gasped, her chest heaving s she gulped down the sweet oxygen, her vision still swimming as she looked at the man holding the smoking gun.
Zladko smirked. “Explosive rounds.”
”With mistletoe,” Chas added. “Get here, love, things are about to get messy.”
**
They made it out of there alive, before the place went up in flames .
The squalid little motel they stumbled into did not care to ask questions about their sooty, bloody appearance – only hard cash.
Chas was supporting the stumbling girl, Mari – she’d gotten quite a bad whack from that gnome before Zladko had wasted it. The little fuckers were as strong s an ox, and vicious little buggers.
H felt a pang of guilt, just dumping her in a room on the bed that barely passed as not being filthy, but he had to talk to Zladko lone.
In the room they shared, he threw himself on the lumpy chair and crossed his long legs. “What are we gonna do w with her, mate?”
”You tell me,” Zladko said quietly; he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, cleaning his guns. “You dragged her along.”
”Yeah, and you saved her life,” Chas reminded him. “She was speaking the truth – she’s got no master. She wants to help us.”
Chas did not nee to elaborate – the crucifix, now nestled safely in his pocket, he’d gotten from the Old Man himself. It was not exactly a lie detector, but if the girl had lied when swearing the oath… well, it wouldn’t have been pretty.
Zladko didn’t look up. “And is that the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
Chas shrugged. “I dunno, but I figure, if we keep an eye on her, she might be useful,. She’s not a thrall, which means she’s got some really good plating in that pretty skull of hers.”
Now that got reaction out of Zladko; the Russian raised his head, his nostrils flaring.
“Jealous?” Chas taunted.
“No,” Zladko said with a wolfish expression, setting his weapons aside. “Because I know you’re mine.”
**
A he pushed Chas down on the bed, Zladko briefly remembered the first time they’d done anything like this – had it been this very same motel? He couldn’t remember, the places had blurred together a long time ago…
Snarling, he bit the curve of neck and shoulder, almost hard enough to draw blood. The blond arched his back, his hard cock digging into Zladko’s side through the fabric of their clothes.
”Impatient little bitch,” Zladko murmured, lapping at the reddening skin, “Don’t worry, friend, I will fuck you.”
“You better will,” Chas gasped as Zladko’s hands found his wrists and pinned them down.
it was hard and fast and messy, just like it always was, but it left both of them sated, slumping together on the bed. Zladko knew, faintly, that this was wrong in many, many levels but as he pulled Chas’s head against his shoulder, the warmth seeping into his bones, he knew it was right as well.
As they drifted asleep, neither man noticed the cold fog drifting in under the door.
**
So these were the hunters he had sent his Mari to.
Dracula watched the two men, deeply asleep on the bed. One dark, the other light, they were quite the fetching contrast, twined together in the aftermath of brutal passion.
He had believed them hapless, but the fact that they had saved his Marti from the accursed gnome spoke well of them – indeed, so had Madonna. They were not the sort of zealous professionals as, say, Van Helsing and his league were, but they had talent and passion for their hunting craft.
They would be useful.
And they had saved Mari. He had been there, arriving at the edge of the room the moment the dark one had aimed his gun at the gnome – he had watched the two of them rescue her, shield her, take her into safety. As soon as he knew she was on the path to safety, he had let his anger flare and the fire of his wrath had engulfed the scene.
They had left her alone and come here, into this room, to indulge in their passion. He knew well the lusts that took over a warrior after battle –it seemed that the dark one had wound quite the willing companion in the blond magician.
He could see why - the blond was all sharp planes and angles., but in no way frail; he was the perfect compliment to the dark one’s built warrior’s body. Indeed, watching them twined so, the evidence of coupling still strong in the air, Dracula felt a stirring in his loins.
Perhaps, he mused, if they succeeded in their quest, he would pay some closer attention to them… but now, he had elsewhere to be.
Concentrating, he once again began to turn insubstantial, his body dissolving into cold fog that slowly seeped out of the room – to where his Mari lay. It was fortunate for him that the big welcome signs were everywhere at the hotel; they negated the blasted need for invitation.
She lay on her bed, not stirring as he entered the room. She was still fully dressed in clothes much like those she wore when he first saw her, save for the lack of heavy jacket. Her head was resting upon one pale hand as she had curled into a ball.
“Wake, girl,” he murmured, his eyes flashing red- she did not stir.
A part of him was amused – she was impervious to his mental touch, so his words would not stir her unless they were as loud as a mortal’s… but he knew he could wake her in other ways. Much more pleasurable ways.
**
It was the touch of cool finger son her face that woke Mari from her slumber. The deft touch was as delicate as a spider’s web, she was certain she was still dreaming as her eyes fluttered open.
The vibrant green, tinged with red that met her gaze was both so alien and yet so familiar…
“Vlad,” she breathed, reaching out to touch his face.
His eyes flared crimson, and suddenly she realized that she was not dreaming – that she was awake, that he had come to her, and she had dared to address her prince so…
”Yes,” he growled softly, his eyes still the colour of blood as he leaned down, his lips nearly brushing hers. “You may call me that, my Mari…”
His Mari.
“Yours,” she whispered, heat suffusing her body from where his cold hands brushed against her, “Only yours, my prince...”
He growled a little and she gasped, her back arching as his touch shifted. “Only yours, Vlad,” she whispered, her heartbeat quickening even more.
“Yes.”
She didn’t know what happened to her clothes – one moment he was simply stroking her face, their eyes locked, and the next she was pulled tightly against his chilled body, her heated skin burning under his touch.
There was both urgency and tenderness in his embrace that she had never felt before; she found herself whispering his name, his Christian name time after time instead of incoherent screaming as he took her, no, as he…
As he made love to her.
Afterwards, he did something he had never done before; he gathered her in his embrace, pulling her tightly against his chest; if his heart had beat, she knew it would have thundered in her ears….
“Why do you cry?” he whispered, and Mari was startled; she was, indeed crying, the heat on her cheeks that of wet tears that flowed freely.
”I... I don’t know,” she replied, closing her eyes as his long fingers came to stroke her sweat-soaked hair.
“Cease,” he said softly, his tone the familiar, comforting reassurance of a man used to being obeyed, “And be happy, my bride-to-be.”
**
the sunlight didn’t make it through the grimy windows to curt into his eyes, but Chas groaned anyway, pulling the pillow over his face. After a moment, he changed his mind and pushed the disgusting-smelling thing away.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Zladko grunted from the other side of the room; even with his eyes closed, Chas knew that the Russian was cleaning his guns. He could have recognized the distinctive smell of the oil and the sound of soft cloth against metal anywhere.
“Morning,” Chas groaned s he attempted to sit up; to his surprise, he was not tied up. “How drunk did I get last night?”
”If you mean, did you pass out and therefore e make it unnecessary for me to tie you up, no,” Zladko said wryly. “You did get drunk enough to bring in the girl, though.”
Chas blinked. The girl? “Did I..”
”No, you didn’t,” Zladko smirked. “You think I’d let you? No, you didn’t do anything with her, threat than make her swear on the Pope’s crucifix that she was not a thrall nor had a master despite the fact that she’s clearly been some vampire’s bed toy not too long ago.”
”Christ,” Chas moaned, letting his head drop into his hands. “I need to stop drinking.”
**
Now, in the little sunlight the grimy windows permitted, the girl looked even paler than the night before. Perhaps it was partially due to the dark clothes she wore, still rumpled and stained from the night before, but Zladko was certain there was something not quite right here.
And... the scent of a vampire was stronger now.
Perhaps it was because here, unlike at the bar, there was no mingling of preternatural scents and incense to mask it… but that seemed unlikely. It was much more likely that she’d had a vampire visit her – or maybe, she’d gone out and sought one.
Zladko knew that she had no vampiric master… so the more likely explanation was that she was one of those people who’d been bitten, and gotten hooked. No doubt those clothes that left only her face and hands visible hid a veritable mass of marks… someone like her, plump and healthy-looking, was probably able to let quite a few bloodsuckers have a go at her before it gave her any trouble.
“Morning,” she said, blinking a bit as she sat up straight in the chair she had been huddling in. “I don’t think you are just coming to take me out for breakfast, are you?”
Zladko shook his head. “No. We are going to sit down, girl, and you are going to tell us all you know about Dominick.”
**
He had let her well before the sun graced the sky with its infernal rays; there were certain things he needed to attend to.
Thee derelict building he slowly approached, cold fog swirling around his dark form, housed the mob of gnomes- they believe d they ruled the shady underworld of the supernaturals; that they were the mob.
They might very well have been; he did not care. The only thing he cared about was that these creatures had dared to touch what was his. The one who had directly assaulted Mari was nothing but fragments of clay and leather now, but the others… oh, they would all pay.
There were two gnomes guarding the entrance; to one their stature, the double doors were grand but to Dracula, they were barely adequate – had he been forced to stoop his head when stepping in, he would have blown them through with the strength of his will.
The guards, of course, attempted to stop him – but despite their unnatural strength they were no match for him, and their shattered remains were cast aside.
Inside, the leader of the gnomes sat upon a high chair, resembling a throne.
”Who dares?” he cried out, “Fellas, get the big ‘un, he ain’t gonna stand here.”
”I dare,” Dracula said coldly, throwing his arms wide, he no longer wore a cloak and some of the dramatic effect was lost, but even so, the gnomes stopped; only the foolhardiest carried on.
As they approached, he growled, his eyes burning crimson as he reached for something he had not wielded in a long while – from he folds of his long coat he drew a sword, the same one he had struck into a stone cross centuries ago, and began his bloody task.
**
Mari sighed. She had told them what she knew about the vampire they were chasing – not a bloody lot – and her hand still felt uncomfortable. They had told her to hold the crucifix as she spoke and although she had not been burned, her pal m was reddened and tingling.
She supposed it was because she had never drunk Dracula’s blood – she had only provided for him. Even the night before, their... joining had not been complete. Therefore, the holy object only gave her discomfort instead of searing pain.
They were having breakfast in a small, greasy diner; Mari had a large cup of tea to go with her pancakes whereas both the men were drinking bitter black coffee and eating greasy, fried food that made her stomach turn.
“So,” She said after a while. “What are we going to do now?”
”Eat,” Chas mumbled through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
Mari shuddered. “I meant, after we eat?”
”We need to go back to our place to get some supplies,” Zladko said quietly. “You’ll be coming along.”
Mari wrinkled her nose. “You wouldn’t happen to have a… selection of clothes in my size, or do I need to go shopping?” she gestured towards her shirt, which still bore bloodstains. “I’m not exactly presentable.” She had almost said have a sister but she knew that would not have gone well – Zladko’s eyes were flashing dangerously even now.
”No,” the Russian said, his voice even quieter now. “We can stop by a market and you can get something.”
Mari finished her meal quietly. It was not long until they made their way to the store. Under the fluorescent lamps she picked out some clothes quickly, not bothering to try them on; she was buying a few sizes up so they should fit her easily enough.
“Looks like the gnomes pissed someone off,” Chas remarked quietly as they made their way to the checkout; the blond nodded towards the tabloids on the rack, few which had headlines that definitely caught Mari’s interest.
Halloween comes early! One of them proclaimed, the picture on the cover that of garden gnomes impaled on a fence, gore everywhere.
Mari bit her lip, trying to not to laugh in a way that would have been a maniacal giggle. Dracula.. Vlad was living up to the name he had earned as a mortal. And he had done it for her sake.
In a way anyway. She was, after all, the particular possession of his they had messed with.
