Castle Of Tears

Chapter 14: Toast to Death.

Her body felt weightless-a wicked reminder that she no longer had a soul within her cold flesh-as she sunk to the floor.

The sounds of his heavy boots reverberated throughout the throne room, but they seemed heavier within her mind as she closed her eyes in resignation.

"Come hither," He said, his deep voice a rough yet smooth caress against her skin. Her breath hitched, then her sooty lashes fluttered opened. A pair of leather boots stood before her with blood splatters marring the once shiny coating of black.

Slowly, Angelique lifted her head, her gaze traveling up to two long legs clothed in tight trousers that revealed the powerful outlines of toned muscles.

Dracula assessed her with a steely gaze. His sharp jaw remained hard, his lips stern, and his eyes impassive.

He did not know what this female was like in her past, but from what he heard, she was surely not this meek creature kneeling before him now.

He wanted to snarl, bellow, to force her to come to her senses-he certainly did not want to coddle her-but the furor within him was remaining latent, quiet, and hibernating. It was odd that his temper was not flaring, but his thoughts did not linger on it. Instead, his attention fell on her eyes, two large pools of green that looked at him with loss and bewilderment.

The countess looked pathetic-pitiful. Yet, it did not disgust him, only intrigued.

He slowly offered his hand, telling her with a meaningful stare to follow him without hesitation.

Angelique's brows locked together, confused and scared. The dark lord looked menacing and frightening. His pale face was still covered in blood, some of it dried; covering the bottom of his face and most of his neck. He was a monster, a cold and thoughtless demon.

Why can't I look away?

His dark eyes were enchanting; filled with sagacity, and endless experience. But there was no denying the black gleam in those bottomless orbs.

Against her better judgment, Angelique took his hand, capitulating herself to this demon. The moment she touched him, willingly, she felt death's cold embrace. This was her first experience with it-she was truly dead now.

The Dark Count remained indifferent at their close proximity, keeping her flushed against him as he ordered a guard to come forth with a snap of his fingers.

Angelique's stomached lurched forward from the scent of iron that was stuck on him like a second skin. Sensing her faltering, he clasped tighter against her as he moved his lips closer to her ear. She wanted to push him away, but her body seemed to enjoy being close to his.

"Drink before the blood goes bad. Do not force my hand. I am being rather congenial at the moment." He said, his husky voice laced with dark promises.

She bit back a whimper. She did not reply, she just held her breath as her nails dug into her flesh.She needed to get this over with; she needed to resign to her fate. She, herself was a monster now, just as much as this man against her. She dared to stare back, tempted to touch his face and trace the blood splatter that contrasted against his milky flesh.

How beautiful.

Bewildered, she did not understand why she was thinking like this. Why was her body and thoughts fogged with such dark lust? It was not right, this is not right!

It seemed that her admiration was quite evident as was her confliction because he smirked when he looked back at her. He seemed amused.

Taken aback, she did not notice when his servant came with a goblet of blood.

Dracula's eyes remained glued on hers, his lips still set in that wolfish line. He held the goblet and offered it to her lips.

"Drink." He ordered.

She wanted to protest, but those black eyes kept her from denying his offer. Angelique had no other choice and took the cup. She looked at it, feeling an animalistic instinct to drink without remorse. His large hand pressed her against him until her stomach touched his hip. She looked at his unwavering stare, filled with expectation and curiousity. She knew if she hesitated any longer they would turn hard with anger, so she quickly placed her lips against the rim of the goblet and drank.

Instantly, Her eyes locked with his as she felt the rush of vitality go through her.

It feels wrong, yet so right! God Forgive me!

Crimson tears spilled as she continued to gulp down the drink with great ardor.

She wanted more-she needed more!

Dracula allowed her to be free of his hold when he noticed her compliance. He took a step back as he watched her drink greedily out of the goblet. Watching her throat work as she swallowed seemed to excite him. He was mesmerized by this female, especially as he watched the blood from his victim spill from the corners of her lips and slide down her elegant throat. She was messy, feral, a work of art.

It pleased him to know he had provided her with food, with the essence of life in the form of bounty.

Perhaps she would join him in hunting next?

He let out a dark chuckle. Her beauty was enough to make him almost forget about her transgressions against him-almost.

"Fill her cup until her thirst is slaked." He said before turning away from her. His eyes narrowed as he exited the room. He would not forget why this woman was here. She was not a guest, but a prisoner. He needed that bloodstone-not a partner.

He would get it, even if it meant killing her for her past crimes.

"A toast to death, Lady Anjou."