The Count carelessly tossed away the body of the skinny redhead after draining it of all its blood. She had had the misfortune of bearing the brunt of his anger that night.

He took out his white spotless handmade silk handkerchief and was wiping the stray blood running down his chin when Alexander, his right hand man burst through the French doors of his newly opened exclusive tavern.

"Ah, not again," he swore as he surveyed the four dead bodies on the floor of his now empty famous tavern. He had opened it the previous decade with his bonus from the Count. Dracula could be very generous if his orders were carried out to the dot.

"I was in a bad mood," Dracula replied simply as if that was an excuse.

Normally no one would dare to question his actions but Alexander had been present for the better part of his life that Dracula could describe him as somewhat of a friend. Therefore unlike everyone else in Dracula's kingdom, Alexander could afford to be a little insolent without worrying about his life.

"Now I have to recruit more serving maids. Again. Couldn't you have gone into the streets or a blood tavern?"

Dracula scrunched his face up in disgust.

"They're all walking symbols of that common infection, what is it? Leucosarysis? " he said with disgust.

"You know you're an Ingester and Neutraliser, Leucosarysis wouldn't affect you."

It was true, Dracula was a Matter Ingester, and he could basically eat anything without being harmed. His blood neutralised everything.

"Doesn't mean it's hygienic."

Alexander rolled his eyes. "Anyway, how is it going with the princess?" he asked curiously as he stepped over one of the dead bodies on his way to the cold room to get a drink.

"She might need a little convincing," Dracula hedged, knowing in his mind that that had to be the understatement of the year.

"A department we both know you thrive in," Alexander chuckled as he returned with a bottle of whiskey.

"She's too stubborn, strong-willed and ill-disciplined," the Count grumbled.

"Sounds like someone I know," Alexander teased him. Dracula shot his friend a warning glare that would have frozen any other person or vampire.

"I hit her."

The action had been more reflex than intent. Dracula was a vampire who did not like to be challenged ; he always responded violently. His bride had made the mistake of challenging his authority.

He had regretted it afterwards; another one of the many foreign feelings Erinna was arousing in him with each passing second. Like always when he was agitated, he went on a killing spree; but unlike other times, the guilt did not go away; it remained glued to him. He felt like scum.

He had never cared about any woman beyond the pleasure of one night and he was clueless on how to treat Erinna. He was a novice, in this new world of feelings and completely lost. How many mistakes was he going to be allowed to make before he lost Erinna forever?

"You must have had your reasons," Alexander said vaguely not wanting to question his master yet dying to give his friend some desperately needed advice.

"Come on Alexander, I know you're just dying to say something."

"I just don't think hitting her is the best way to make her smile at you. Why don't you give her time to adjust to her destiny and leaving her father?" he suggested.

Alexander was among one of the few vampires who knew about his upcoming union with Erinna.

"Her birthday approaches Alexander, I do not have time to tiptoe around her."

"Fine, just don't hit her again. The last time you hit me I wasn't able to feed for three days; and I'm a vampire."

"What happens to her is up to her. Anyway, I felt you try to mind link with me," he switched the subject.

All vampires were telepathically connected to him as he was their sire and could mind link with him anywhere, anytime unless he deliberately blocked them.

"Yes, you blocked me."

"I was feeding."

Alexander nodded in understanding. Dracula hated having his meals disturbed. In fact it was a sin worthy of the death penalty. Yes; a lot of things with Dracula were warranted a death sentence.

"What did you want me for?" he asked.

"I have something you might be interested in."

"Where?"

"The dungeons."

***

Dinner was a sad and lonely affair for Erinna. She couldn't even get the food past her constricted throat, not that she could chew it anyway. Her jaw was still on fire from the slap the Count had given her. She was surprised that he had not knocked off a tooth.

After nearly choking on a spoonful of her expertly made shrimp soup, she decided it was not worth it. She was still enraged at Dracula's audacity, his mere colossal nerve to raise a hand to her. Her head was still ringing with the impact. He could not even pretend to be civilised with her for a few hours yet expected her to marry him for the rest of her life.

******

A sense of peace washed over Dracula as he arrived in the dungeons, a place he had spent a lot of time and energy designing to the last perfect detail. It was like a second home.

The dungeons were built in a maze form that ensured no one who entered them could escape them. Not that they could, even if they did manage to find their way magically; the exits were bound by an ancient spell that one of Dracula's sorcerers had unearthed.

As the Count and his right hand man passed the dark cells with groans, moans and dying gasps emanating from within, Dracula's blood raced with unhealthy excitement. Apart fom his bride's heaven-sent, magical voice; screams of pain and fear were his favourite type of music.

Bony, skeletal fingers held the sturdy iron bars of every cell with a death grip, begging for a quick death; something he was not generous with.

Alexander led Dracula to the torturing chamber where man hung from the ceiling with his hands bound together above him; exposing him to any form of torture his captors might have in mind for him.

The Count smiled, a completely inappropriate and unexpected gesture given his surroundings. The man, a human was covered in blood, remnants of his sessions with the Count's right hand man.

"We found him snooping around in the tavern, asking about the Countess," Alexandra explained.

The news made Dracula extremely angry to the point where he was only seeing red and the urge to tear the man's carotid became unbearable. It was only the promise of sweet long torture that stopped him from ripping the man's heart out right then. He had to suffer for even thinking about his property; so Dracula reigned in his demons.

"Who are you?" Dracula asked, it was a stalling question as he tried to come up with the most agonising form of torture for the meddling fool before him.

"Go to hell," the man spit out, a decision he clearly didn't think through.

Anger flared through Dracula at the blatant disrespect and in less than a millisecond his clawed hand was inside the man's guts, gripping onto a tangle of intestines.

"I don't think we have been properly introduced; the name is Dracula," he said, twisting to maximize the main. The man's cries were loud, angry and annoying, tempting Dracula to just end his life there and then and do the whole world a favour.

"I know who you are you bastard, she is not your Countess!" The man spluttered after a semi recovery from his pain. The Count growled angrily and dangerously, not reacting well to the indirect challenge.

"If I were you I'd shut up; you do not want to mess with me right now."

The words were spoken calmly but the warning was loud and clear. For the man's sake, Alexander hoped he heeded the warning. Only he knew that Dracula was at his most dangerous and a second from snapping your neck when he was this calm.

"She will never marry you."

The words were an instant trigger of the demons The Count was trying to keep in check, bringing back to mind Erinna's earlier brutal rejection of him.

"And she'll marry you I guess? Is that why you are here?"

He was shouting by then, his legendary temper gripping him in its merciless unforgiving hold. His usually enticing, mesmerising dark eyes bled over until they were a terrifying demoniac inky red. His canines extended to a length which was humanly impossible; becoming sharp little daggers which promised instant death to whoever defied their owner.

This time the Count gave in to his desires and decided to indulge himself a little. With a sharp movement of his hand, he manipulated the air particles around them, telekinetically taking a razor edged whip where it hung on the wall amongst other gruesome-looking torture devices.

In an instant the whip landed on the man's very bare back, immediately drawing out blood. His screams of torture filled the torture chamber.

"Erinna is mine. And mine alone. There is nothing you or anyone can do about it. Is that clear?" The last words were spoken slowly and with emphasis as if he were talking to a demented imbecile.

He only granted the man a fraction of a second to reply before he harshly brought the whip down on the man's back again, leaving a deep gash across the first one. Only two stripes from the Count and his back was already a torn tattered mess.

"I expect an answer."

"Y-y-yes," stammered the man amid his abuse. Dracula swung the whip again, drawing sharp tortured screams from the man as it made contact.

"Yes what?" he spat out impatiently.

"Yes I u-u-understand."

"You're catching up," Dracula affirmed in a satisfied voice. Delivering punishment and instilling discipline was a subject he had studied to the last degree.

"Who sent you? What business does a human have with elves?"

He only gave the man a second to reply and when he hesitated, his temper flared again.

"I do not ask a question twice. That was just courtesy; your mind is accessible to me with or without your will."

Before his victim could even blink, Dracula was at his side; the creature of the night's inhumane canines digging into his throat. The action opened the man's mind to Dracula and what he saw didn't surprise him.

He had known only one being would be at the centre of all this. Eric Ellington had never hid his feelings about Dracula's marriage to his daughter. It was clear by the desperate length's he had gone to make sure no one knew of her existence.

After getting the answer he wanted, he didn't linger to analyse the rest of the man's thoughts; a reckless decision he would regret later. Dracula roughly removed his fangs from where they were buried in the man's throat, tearing the skin off and leaving flesh hanging out.

"Alexander bring me the tongue tearer," he instructed, verdict decided. The cogwheels in his mind were turning fast as he tried to decide what to with his newly found information.

"No, no please. Please no, I will talk. I will tell you anything," the man broke into full begging mode, sobbing unashamedly as he looked his fate straight in the eye with fear and trepidation. Dracula was not vampire to change his mind though.

He could have laughed had he not been in such a foul mood. It always amused watching his victims begging for their lives.

Sometimes he would toy with them, making them believe they could convince him; that they stood a chance. He would give them false hope; lure them into a false sense of security only to brutally pull the rug from underneath their relaxing feet. They would beg and beg and he would let them because he knew his answer, his bottom-line was always the same.

"You had your chance but decided to play me for a fool. Since it appears you have no use for your tongue, why don't we remove it and save you the labour of carrying it around?"

His voice was sickeningly sweet and seductive, a stark contrast to what he was implying.

Dracula took the tongue-tearer from Alexander. It was one of his personal favourites from his vast collection of torture devices. Alexander already knowing what to do, forced the man's reluctant mouth open with a mouth-opener.

Dracula stuffed the iron tool uncomfortably into the man's mouth, roughly gripping his tongue while Alexander held it open. Once he managed a firm grip, he tightened his hold on the tongue-tearer, and roughly tore the man's tongue.

Immediately the human's ear-piercing screams and pleas of mercy which had been drowning the room were reduced to gurgling sounds as he choked on his own blood.

Dracula roughly tossed the iron tools aside before holding out his hand. Alexander dutifully placed another white handkerchief, the second one that day into his master's hand.

Dracula wiped the man's blood off his hands, removing all evidence that might associate him with the gruesome event that had just taken place. He was a naturally hygienic vampire and also did not wish to scare his bride.

"Shall I throw him into a cell and let him languish there?" Alexander asked his maker but Dracula was distracted.

Something was not ringing right. No one would be foolish enough to snoop around about Erinna in his territory. Especially in Transylvania right under his nose. There was a detail he was missing, a hidden agenda. His line of thought was broken off by Alexander.

"My lord?" He repeated after failing to get an answer.

"Yes Alexander?"

"I was asking if..."

"I heard you the first time," the Count interrupted him before he could finish, "And no, do not throw him in a cell. Just break his knees and elbows. Take him to Death Town tomorrow; I will decide what to do with him then."

Alexander was curious about what the Count had seen in the human's head but lacked the guts to ask. It was not his place to question his master.

The Count being the Sire, the original vampire from whence they had all come from had extraordinary abilities. Even Alexander after being with him for over 3000 years did not know the full extent of his powers.

Every time he thought he had finally figured his maker out, Dracula would totally discredit his theories by doing something out of this world. His ability to look into people's heads was the least of his talents. It was a gift that made Alexander very uncomfortable, not that he had anything to hide from his maker, but still...

"Don't worry, I will take care of the trespasser," he promised.

"Don't stop the whipping. If he reaches the point of death, revive him with vampire blood and do it over and over again."

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