Deep within the central region of Romania lies a sleepy little town called Transylvania. Known for its mountainous borders, medieval towns and timeless castles lies a force so powerful that not even the most bravest of men will not venture. Castle...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dracula
Drinking the blood of a human is one thing. But when you hold your mate's life in your hands, its whole another world out there. The blood that resides within your mate is special, tastes different, and makes you feel alive and above all powerful. Even now, as my fangs sink deep into his soft, pink flesh. My body ignites with such vitality and strength that I feel like I have the strength of one hundred men.
But it's Nathan's heart rate that has me worried as I slow down and peel my lips from his throat, sealing the wound closed with a few gentle strokes of my tongue. I cradle him in my arms as his head rests against my shoulder. His body feels weightless, barely moving. I can hardly see his chest moving up and down. I fear that I may have taken too much when his lips part and a croaking sound escapes making me sigh with relief.
"You scared me there for a moment," I said.
"You've feasted and that's what matters."
I shook my head. "Correction: I almost killed you. I won't do that again."
"You can and you will. It's in your nature."
"'My nature?' My nature is designed to kill and drink the blood of those I come across."
If only he knew the real story. The story of how I became what I am. This thing. This demon. A vampire whose sole purpose is to live forever and stay in the shadows for all eternity. I stare at his face and kiss the top of his head as he falls into a deep sleep. By morning his blood will have restored but with the nasty side effects of feeling nauseas and light headed. I brush the few strands of hair from his face and take this opportunity to dwell into his mind and tell my story.
Wallachia Romania, 1448
I was born in 1427 in Sighisoara Transylvania. My father was known then as Count Dracul who later became a member of the Order of the Dragon. But in modern Romanian times, Dracul refers to as "The Devil" which is highly considerate given my bad reputation and sorted past. My mother sadly past away when I was just a boy from a grave sickness that consumed her soul in matter of weeks. I cried for a month. My heart never knew such pain over the loss of a parent.
My siblings on the other hand were another problem. My eldest brother was murdered alongside my father by the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire granted that my father pay homage to him. Shortly thereafter, I quickly became the ruler of Wallachia and fell in love with the most beautiful girl in town. Her name was Antanasia Dragan. The daughter of a respected farmer and servant mother who worked in the castle.
Together Antanasia and I, spent as much of our time with one another as we possibly could. Until the day came when I asked for her hand in marriage against her father's wishes. He saw me as a bad man with the stories that once belonged to my father, but that was different. I was never like my father. I saw and ran my country as I saw fit. I was striving to make a difference in my people's lives.
