Traces of the past

4. Him and books

Dracula POV

Why was I hearing this fucker's thoughts? It was annoying as hell.

I have never heard a human's thoughts until this fucker appeared in front of me. And now, only now, not before when we were standing face to face, when he looked so curious at my trousers asking himself what were they made of.

For a moment I panicked, I never felt this weak before. I hearing the thoughts that roamed inside another head was something new. Not even when I drank their blood, I just got some memories and some feelings I wanted to get rid of.

So I put him to sleep with a touch of my long and sharp fingernail.

If there were no guards I had to handle to dirty jobs myself. 

He was bleeding too much for a human being, I thought and tried to rip a piece of my shirt with my nails. 

Carefully I press the cloth hard on his chest to stop the bleeding, but the fabric was to sheer and the blood didn't stop coming out.

It was just a scratch, why the fuck are you bleeding so much?

-Petrov! Tell the boy to bring some bandages and a towel! I shouted so I was sure my voice had made it across the rooms, exactly were I left my advisor.

This pale creature with dark hair, just like mine was waking up some interest in me. I might be mistaken, but for a mere moment I saw a bit of intelligence in him, an intelligence I saw lacked in this cold castle.

 It was a pity for him to die so easy!

Why was the boy taking so long? I really needed to get a vampire servant, at least he would have been already here with everything that I asked for in his arms.

I looked disappointed at my expensive shirt I had ripped a pad of and put it on the fucker's chest.

Why was I even going so far? I should have just sank my fangs into the crock of his neck and disposed him, just like I did with the others.

With his worried look and his confusion, he seemed to naive to die, at least for now. Maybe later I will change my mind and drink his blood and not regret it. Maybe I will skin him and make a rug out of his soft skin...

How did I notice his skin is soft? Ew...I thought in disgust. Am I that lonely? To fantasy about a men's skin? What is wrong with me, dear lord?

The servant arrived running and brought exactly what I asked for. He wanted to immediately take his leave, but I stopped him with a sign of hand.

-Help me with this... I said as I knelt down to check if the blood was still piecering the white cloth.

-Is the great Dracula himself asking for help? 

I looked up annoyed to meet his eyes. He was Armando, my other servant. A guy with a sharp tongue and ego as big as a lion, with an oval face and green eyes, he resembled a lion indeed.

I collected him nine years ago, when he was about to be executed for witchcraft. I found it very strange for men to be acused of something only foxy women did, so I kept an eye on him and brought it here.

To my absolute relief he has asthma, so his blood wasn't available to me.

-Tie his wound up! I ordered ignoring his insolence to stop making myself mad.

He did what I told him to do and in a few minutes I saw the stranger wrapped into white cloth. 

-You can go! I waved my hand, wishing he wouldn't be disobedient again and shoot at me another round of humiliating remarks.