Dracula's Daughter

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

Paris, France. 1756.

The sun had set only seconds earlier and with her new silk robe tied around her waist, she leant against the rusting railing of her apartment balcony and soaked up the last few drops of sunlight that hung in the air.

Closing her eyes she tried to forget everything that had happened in her long life but everything flooded back the moment she felt the air shift behind her as he woke from his slumber.

Like clockwork, he rose as the sun disappeared and night descended upon their new playground.

It had been Belarus only a mere decade ago until he had chosen a poor child for a meal and she left once again; something about his nature not sitting right with her once again.

“So,” Valentina stood straight, the robe revealing a high slit of her leg, “What shall we drink tonight?” She asked predictably.

“Don’t you mean who are we going to drink tonight?” Christian loved to remind her of the creature she had become.

“I have not been to Paris in almost a hundred years,” Christian slipped into his breeches, leaving his chest bare to her hungry eyes.

“So much has changed,” he murmured as he joined her on the balcony, “And yet it seems nothing has altered at all,”

“I never took you as the sentimental type, darling,” Valentina turned her back to the railing to face him whilst she bent her back over the side, letting her hair dangle in the air, “Maybe it’s the clean air getting to you,” she muttered still upside down and not even fearing if she fell.

“Maybe it has more to do with you,” Christian rested his elbows on the railing, “Or maybe it has more to do with the fact that you didn’t let me feed last night,” he growled in annoyance.

Valentina sighed and righted herself back on the balcony. He was always so rigid and straight faced, “Was it the fact that I didn’t let you drink or how I made you unable to drink?” She smirked when he growled at her, “Stop whining lover and get dressed. We have the night on our side,”

* * *

“How stereotypical can you get?” Valentina stood and crossed her arms over her bare chest as she stared down at the dead hooker on her floor.

The last few drops of the girl’s blood would stain her hardwood flooring if she didn’t clean it up soon; she’d only polished it the only day.

Valentina stared at the dead girl and let out a bored sigh. They really did have to move her before she started to stink out the room.

“Do you know how hard it is to get the smell of dead hooker out of fabric?” Valentina raised an eyebrow at Christian who was slouched back in bed blood matting his dark chest hair as he sucked his fingers clean.

“I know, I know,” He licked his lips, “Remember the great spectacle of 1506? My god, I thought you’d never speak to me again,”

“I didn’t,” Valentina snapped, “For five years,”

Christian shrugged, “That’s only mild compared to some of our stints and I had to find ways to please myself in your absence,”

“I’m glad I rate so highly to you,” Valentina muttered, “I guess since we’re going down the traditional route that we could just dump her in a dumpster down the street?”