Her cough was rather insignificant, but crimson staining the white cloth she held to her colorless lips spoke volumes of the unseen. She cringed at the sight of it, but wadded up the napkin and continued walking into the foggy winter night, her fingers wrapping around the collar of her wool jacket, pulling it in as close as possible to gleam some semblance of warmth to her shivering petite frame. Cholera had swept the nation, its icy cold reprieve not a respecter of person nor wealth, age nor status. She shook her head and reached quickly into her pocket as the small cough echoed around her, the taste of metal stinging her tongue.

She contracted the disease a few weeks earlier when her older brother, Jamison took her with him on a mission of sorts. He was a man of the cloth, as was her father and as such, their family often times were to be found with the poor, the hungry, the least and the sick. They’d taken vaccines put out by the Roman Catholic Church, but hers had obviously been less than effective. Her family knew not of her condition and she did her best to hide it from them, staying away until late in the evening and rising early in the morning.

Her situation was quite without resolution and yet she couldn’t help but carry on each day as if nothing were wrong. There was very little time left now that she was coughing the color of death with every other painful breath, but she had a few things left to do. She shivered again as the bellman held the door for her, the quaint bed and breakfast one that her father used to bring them too when she was a little girl, the courtyard filled with small birds each morning that they’d all take turns terrorizing. A smile touched her lips, yet didn’t reach her sea-green gaze.

“Evening, Miss.” The bellman moved to open the door further, a smile on his portly face, the warmth of the inn rushing out to greet her.

She smiled back and licked at her lip, worried of the evidence that would have her turned away for good from anyone trying to remain present in the folds of humanity. She shouldn’t have been there anyways. This disease was one that traveled via the molecules of air that slipped from her lips and into someone else’s waiting unawareness. She turned her face from him and tucked it further into the protection of her coat, her shivers giving him a sense that she was just chilled to the bone. Elle walked to the small room, last door on the left at the end of the hall and slipped her small silver key from her pocket, opening the door and locking it behind herself.

She shrugged off her coat, her long chestnut locks swinging around her as she moved, dancing as if trying to gain her attention. She brushed her cold, bony fingers through the silky locks and pulled them from her face, stopping to stare into the mirror, a frown touching her once beautiful face. She’d yet to reach twenty and looked forty because of the disease eating her very essence deep in the pit of her chest. Her once rosy cheeks were sunken in, dark circles raced around her eyes, dimming the dulled picture of a life once lived. She licked her lips again and reached for the cloth, bending over a little as the next cough racked her small frame, a whimper rushing from her bloody mouth. Her white satin gown hung around her shoulders and concaved in places it shouldn’t, on parts of her that used to be full and curvaceous, but that time had passed.

“No,” she whispered, knowing that she needed to leave them letters, to tell them how much she loved them and what they meant to her. She needed to leave him a letter telling him the truth that he deserved to know, the answers he’d always waited patiently for. She wiped her mouth and steeled her resolved. She would not slip into death’s strong embrace until she’d finished accomplishing all that was left to accomplish.

She opened a large window near the kitchen table letting the coolness of night flood the room, her eyes moving across the shadows and wishing for only a moment that she were one of them. If she could be anyone but herself… Something moved in the distance, but she brushed it off, turned and walked to her small desk. Tonight would be the last night of her existence and she didn’t want to leave without a word uttered endlessly in the human experience – goodbye.

He had been following her for days, watching ever so patiently as her health had failed her again and again. He was no one to notice as he moved slowly through the shadows, slipping through the crowd as if he were nothing but a ghost. He wasn't hunting, nor was he stalking. He was simply a figure among everyone else, a man leading his own life. Among the world of humans, he was no one. He didn't have a name, reputation nor any meaning. He wasn't begging, stealing or causing trouble. He was no one, and yet he was everyone. He was a man whose presence was only known to those he chose. A man not minding anyone elses business and keeping to the shadows wasn't anyone you would lay your eyes upon more than once before the stoic and noble face would vanich from your mind forever.

The young woman twenty feet in front of him was all his golden eyes saw, her coughing - as hidden as they were - were all his ears could hear and the crimson blood staining the handkerchief was all he could smell. Everyone else, all other sounds and smells of the sickening town was blocked out to him. He did not need to take notice of anything else than the young woman. He was a man no one knew, but the man know exactly who the young woman were. It hadn't been the first time he had seen her a few nights back. He had been well aware of her for years.

The soft yet merciless winter winds pulled his long, black hair. He did not mind it, never brushing it away even if it lay in his field of vision. In fact, he would not need his vision to go wherever he wanted. Vision, such a primal thing. His leather coat was casually left open, folding to the wind and his demanding steps. His heavy boots formed deep rifts in the snow, yet it seemed as though his tracks would vanish as soon as they had appeared. He was not a man who liked to be followed and his long years had taught him just how easily a track could be mislead.

As the young woman entered the inn, the observing man stayed on the other side of the street. He was watching, listening and waiting. He had all the time in the world to get what he wanted. Being the man he was, he was used to get what he wanted and rarely stopped pursuing his desires. Closing his eyes, he let his hearing guide him where he needed to be. The soft cracking of an opened window, the flow of cold air into a slightly warmer room. Soft footsteps, breath-taking coughing and whimpers of pain. Letting his feet guide him, he calmly walked around the inn, ignoring the homeless in the alley around him.

Standing in the shadows only a few feet from her window, he watched her closer now than ever. He knew she didn't have much time left. Only hours at most. His calm stare watch her every move as his head slightly tilted.

This does not have to be the end. A painful death, alone... with only letters where ones true feelings never can be written down as they should. How do you say 'goodbye' forever? This does not have to be the end. A word. A wish. That is all it would take. A painful death does not have to be the end. If only to see your loved ones one more time.

His whisper was nothing more than that - a whisper in the wind. It could come from anyone. It could even be your own thoughts.

He stood there, in the cold winters night, watching a young woman who hadn't even begun to live her life as she was dying. But for now, it was too early for him to take action. But soon, soon... she would be his, whether she wanted it or not.

Her pen touched the paper below, her lilly-white hand shaking so badly that the ink smeared and smudged without effort. A soft cry left her lips as blood coated her teeth, her vision narrowing in to the point of darkness abounding. She shook her head, long trestles rushing about in an effort to bring her back to reality. Swallowing hard she reached across the desk and used one hand to steady the other, the letter short and sweet as the breeze brought her a comfort that the dying didn't deserve and most didn't receive.

Jameson,

There is a small chest in my room, under the third wooden piece just left of my bed. If you push hard enough the wood will give way and beneath the wood is a chest that contains all of the proof you need that they do exist. I simply wanted to gather a bit more, but seeing that my life is but a memory in waiting I believe you should take advantage and press the church to act. It is only a matter of time before the monsters come for you and those like us that seek the light and protect justice against their atrocity. I love you and my father and will wait for you in the world beyond this one. Do what we always planned to do brother, bring them into the light.

Your Elle


Her pen dropped as her breathing began to shake the ether just around her, frail hands pressed to the wooden structure below her as the world began to loose color once again. The soft breeze of the wind called to her and forever seemed just beyond her grasp but she knew soon enough she would be in heaven and in the embrace of her beloved mother. Elle took a few tentative steps toward the open window, the desire to fly taking hold of her and giving her legs purpose to finish the short walk to her death, but a death of her choosing, not this horrid end that would become of her. A voice as deep a sin and dark as hell slipped around her, the very essence of it causing her head to drop back and a sigh of desire to leave her cracked lips.

This does not have to be the end. A painful death, alone... with only letters where ones true feelings never can be written down as they should. How do you say 'goodbye' forever? This does not have to be the end. A word. A wish. That is all it would take. A painful death does not have to be the end. If only to see your loved ones one more time.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she choked on a soft sob at the thought that their was another way out of this predicament and yet she knew that her faith allowed nothing but the darkness of fatality to move in like a thief in the night. She shook her head, soft words leaving her lips as she turned and let herself free fall from the second story room, the drop alone enough to kill her. "There is nothing left for me... but this moment."

Her reply and movements towards the window brought a dark grin to his lips. He wondered if these were the actions of a woman taunting or desperation. Believig the latter more he would act the same either way. Moving with inhuman speed from the shadows and caught her in her arms just before she would hit the ground. "Now... that wasn't too considerate of you, was it?" he asked with a dark and ashy voice. He moved her around with ease in his arms, but would still hold a tight grasp of her. He wouldn't want her to slip away to force him to chase her again. Not that he belived she would be able to get very far.

"What use could I have of you if you fell and crushed your skull? We couldn't have that, would we little flower?" Before she would be able to answer or even react too much he placed his hand over her mouth. It would just cause him even more trouble than was necessary if she would scream. Moving quickly, he pulled her away from the light of the inn and vanished with her among the shadows.

He could hear her weak heart beat faster than it should in her condition, and he knew he had to work fact. He wouldn't be able to get her if she were already dead. Keeping her steady in his arms, he brushed her hair from her neck before he lowered his head and opened his mouth. If she had been able to see properly she would seehis canines grow longer and sharper before he let tthem sink into her flesh. He knew exactly where to bite for the most amount of blood.

He knew very well that the bite would hurt, but as soon as his saliva would come in vontact with her wound, it would act as a muffler and erase her pain. He drank quickly and with an unsettisfied greed. He wanted to drain her as soon as possible. Believe it or not, he was vulnerable in situations like these - feeding out in the open.

using her blood pressure to determine when he had drunk enough, he let go of his bite to her neck
Lifting his head he cracked his neck slightly. His otherwise golden eyes had turned crimson by the blood. She was still alive, barely. Biting his own wrist he forced his own blood out and lwt it drip down in her mouth. Only a few drops would do to start her transformation. But after... now that was a different story. She would need to feed, and a lot unless she wanted to go mad.

He watched her with calm eyes as he let his own wound heal. Hers would heal as well in just a few moments, when his blood began to replace hers. Moving her around in his arms again, he now held her more comfortably as he continued down the dark alley. A horse and carriage was waiting for him on the other side. The driver ipened the door for him, and as soon he had gotten in they were moving. Even now, sitting in the carriage he held her tightly against him in his arms.

It didn't take the horse long before they stopped outside his mansion and he stepped out with her. Walkung inside, he climbed the stairs with ease and soon found himself in his chambers. He lay her down in his bed, pulling the covers over her. She would get enough of a chock when she woke up, and being atop the covers didn't have to be one of them.

once she would wake up, he would be sitting in a majestic chair in front of the fireplace, relishing in the heat with an old book and a glass of a deep red liquid in his hands.

His voice was deep, the timbre of it rushing across the nerve endings of her exposed ashen skin as she lay in his arms, her body so far lost that she barely felt the impact of landing in his embrace. She tried to focus on his face, lovely pale skin and dark eyes blurred in and out of her conscious thoughts and she tried to formulate words only to choke on the remaining blood that filled her weakened lungs. She felt the darkness that pressed against her vision call to her and without hesitation she rushed towards it, warmth engulfing her and rest finally finding residence within her aching physique. What happened beyond that moment was lost to her, but the hope of heaven and reunion with her family members past played in whatever small moments she was left to experience.

Elle, gather the supplies we need and meet me at the edge of Herrington's forest." Her brothers voice was hushed and the only vision she held of him was due entirely to the small candle that he held in front of his handsome face, his grin wicked and filled with promise of adventure.

She couldn't help but smile, though neither of them felt giddy or happiness, but more a sense of purpose and a fulfilled calling awaiting them at the end of the night. "You know that father would not approve of us leaving in the middle of the night. We must wake him, Jameson. I will not take lashes tomorrow when he finds out what we have done."

"He will not know, sister. Now do as I say!" Her brother moved back and Elle huffed softly, slipping from her small make-shift bed and pulling off her long white gown. They were still young and deep into adolescence, their sense of right and wrong perfectly in place and yet the call of the wild or the possibility to make a name for themselves well overrode their sense of preservation or looming destruction. Their father would know because they would in fact kill a vampire and knowing her brother, he would talk about it for months and months.

They would be caught - she had no doubt of that fact.

She pulled up a pair of britches and an old white shirt, slipped her feet in some solid brown boots and her hair in a tight knot and headed for the small closet at the back of their room. Deep in the confines of the darkness lay a small board that moved and below it was a few supplies that they would use to kill the vamps. A bottle of holy water, blessed by Saint Stephen, a cross and a long stake that would be used to end the creatures nefarious lifestyle. She finished gathering the supplies and slipped into the night, her brother waiting at the edge of the forest with a gleam in his eye and a smile on his lips.

"Are you ready, little sister?" He reached for the stick and she shook her head.

"We're going to get caught or die trying not to." Elle stuck out her tongue, but nothing remained of Jameson, but a soft laugh he left for her as he forged into the forest.


Soft candlelight filled the room around her as she moved a little, her body so sore and her skin painfully tight. Where was she? Was this heaven? She tried to sit up, but a long burn filled her chest as she muffled a scream, embarrassed by her emotion and yet in so much agony that to cry out seemed the only way to move past the anguish and into relief. Dying was horrid, but this transition into the next world was more treacherous than she'd imagine. Her body shook as her muscles inflated and her skin relit with color. Her eyes bulged as she finally let out a long agonizing scream and her body finished the transition. She breathed in rapidly and felt tears dot her cheeks as her fingers dug painfully into the bed she was laid upon. Giving herself a few minutes to pull through the remaining transition she prayed to the God of her father and finally pushed up to her elbows, a man that appeared familiar and yet not sat across from her, his strong features playing with her against the firelight that bathed him in illumination.

"Where am I?" She muttered softly, her lips pale pink and full again as they sat upon her perfectly smooth alabaster skin. "Who are you?"

Her agonizing screams didn't face the man what so ever. He calmly finished reading the page he was on in the book he was holding. He lifted the glass he was holding to his lips and drank from the deep red liquid. He soon lay the book on the small table next to his chair and stood up. He walked over to the bed, his eyes calmly resting on Elle where she lay.

With his approach she would feep an immense, almost tangible aura streaming out from his very being. He sat down on the side of the bed, placing a hand around her cheek. With a soft, but demanding gesture he moved her head from side to side, seemingly to inspecting her. "Don't you feel better now, little flower? " he asked as his golden eyes moved down to her neck. Letting go of his grip around her cheek and let his thumb stroke the area where he had bitten her. Her wounds had nearly healed, but she was still a bit swollen.

"I don't know if I should be insulted you don't recognize me at first glance. Don't you have portraits of me? Detailed descriptions?" he asked before standing up again. He walked over to a closet and opened it up. "My name is Vincent Silvercrest. And you, little flower, are in my mansion." Looking through the dresses that were hanging inside the closet, he soon pulled out a beautiful, emerald dress made out of satin. "I think green is your color." he said before walking back to the bed and placing it by her feet.

"You should change your clothes. You still have blood stains on your own dress." he said. Voices could be heard from downstairs, a loud argument between what sounded like at least twenty different people. He closed his eyes for a second and sighed. "Stay here. If you wander, they will kill you." he said before walking to the double doors that were closing off his chambers. He opened them, walked out and closed the doors behind him again.

"... pointless! She used to be a hunter! He has no right to do this!"

Vincent walked down the stairs and looked at almost fifty people that had gathered in his mansion. Half of them were having an aggressive argument. He walked into the mass of people, most of them moving and giving way for him. He watched them, listened. They were all members of his clan. The ones arguing that it was a mistake taking Elle into the mansion, or even turning her, wasn't Vincents 'children'. Those were vampires brought in by people from his clan. "You seem to be forgetting your place, Aaron." Vincent threatened the most aggressive vampire with a dark and ashy voice.

She could feel his presence like the drawing up of a string in her chest, tugging ever so strangely as he approached and stood beside her. His hand against her cheek sent tendrils of electricity rushing through the nerve endings on her face and traveled quickly to the pit of her taunt stomach. He was beautiful and she felt almost mesmerized, lost for a moment in a fairy tale that was soon to be realized for the nightmare it was. His fingers moved along her as if he owned her, a jerk from her the only movement given as he brushed by the wound on neck. She gasped at the realization of what had taken place and felt shock rush across her chest. Surely she was not what she once hunted. Death had taken her far from the undead and most certainly she was not soulless and forever to walk outside the gates of heaven but never enter, right?

Surely not...

He spoke with ease, his voice nothing more than a demanding whisper and left as the noise just outside of the bedroom door rose enough to catch their attention. Elle sat in silence after he slipped out, his words pulling her from her reverie. She needed to change clothing. Looking down she quickly took note of the lovely color of her skin, the fullness of her breasts and arms, the strength found in her legs as she stood on them without wobbling. Her small hand pressed against her left breasts, the loss of a solid beating pushed her to want to weep. It was true and though she was given another shot at life, it was not one she would've chosen for herself.

---

Aaron turned to look up at Vincent, a sneer on his handsome face. "I know my place quite well, Vincent. It is you whom have stepped over the line. She is not a normal human, a toy that you might bring into our coven and play with. She is one of the best hunters in the country and her father and brother still live. Do you not think they will find it suspicious that she has disappeared into thin air? You bring death to our door, old friend." He moved back, shaking his head and lost in thought as to how they might bring Vincent to understand the situation at hand.

"Yes, master... why would you choose to change someone that has persecuted us for years? Would not death have been better than the offer of a new life? You have given her a gift that belongs to us and will she not retain enough of her human memories to still want to hunt us?" Sophia spoke up, her long raven's hair moving about her body as she rocked back and forth on her feet.

"He's obviously not thought of these things, Sophia." Aaron spoke again and looked to Vincent. "Well... what say you, old great one?"

Vincent watched Aaron as he spoke, and as soon as he heard another voice his eyes quickly moved to Sophia. He was quite surprise that this timid, young vampire would take a side that could get her killed. She barely had ten years among his kind, and still she would speak against him. "Not another word, Sophia, or I will make you dispose of your own fangs." He growled the warning to her and watched her quickly lower her head and back away. Without their fangs, a vampire had no status or standing even among their own. A fang-less vampire was useless to everyone.

After his threat to Sophia, Aaron dared to speak up again. Vincents eyes shot over to him again, and his otherwise golden eyes had turned black. He had had enough, and within the split of a second he had crossen the room, grabbed a hold of Aarons neck and slammed him into the wall. The stone wall cracking and crumbling against the immense power of the impact. Staring right into Aarons eyes, Vincent gave out an angry growl, revealing a full set of fangs across his upper and lower jaw. His very essence seeming to grow along side his aggression. "You missunderstand, Aaron." he spoke in a voice as deep as hell itself. "It is not I whom has not thought of these things. It is you."

"She was a hunter, yes. A great one at that. It would have been an encounter few of you would have survived. Think of that power for just a second, if your simple mind would allow you to. Think of that power, turned into what it is now. Fully harnest and under control, she would be strong enough to challange any of you. Most likely do me the favor you killing you, Aaron." he spoke, never letting go of his grip around his throat nor letting his eyes stray. "She is not a novis w3hen it comes to the information about us. She is highly edjucated and knows that if she tires to kill herself, to release herself from the hell she is in right now - she will be stuck in limbo. Never be able to reach either heaven now hell. That fact alone is worse than this."

"Let her keep her memories and try to be her old self for as long as she has the energy to. This is the place she will always return to. Being who she was, roaming around on the streets before she is able to control herself or her new powers, she will sooner or later go on a rampage, killing anything that comes in her way. Innocent people. A so called 'holy person' wouldn't allow themselves to doing so. Going back to the church will get her killed just for being what she is now. The church can't risk anything just because she used to be human and one of them. This coven is the only place where she will be safe from the outside world and herself."

"Her family is still alive. Yes, I am well aware of that, and so is she. They will find it suspisious that she has vanished into thin air. And where do you think their thoughts will turn? To us, yet of course. And that is exactly what I want. Just imagine the glorious look of fear and despare on their faces when they finaly realise it." At this point, an evil grin had turned up on Vincents face. "All of this is the reason I chose her. Why I turned her and her alone. It's nothing more than a taunt to the church - the very organisation that has persecuted us for ages. It will send ripples right into thier core and it will never heal. They think they are safe from a fate like this, that their religion protects them." He laughed, a laugh that would tare a whole in a babe's heart.

"Will I have to explain further, Aaron, and while doing so rip your throat out?" he asked, tilting his head as he let his long, sharp nails dig into the sensitive skin around his neck.

Elle caught her breath and tried to slow her racing mind as she knelt down and picked up the lovely satin gown, her fingers brushing along the silky fabric before stepping into it and worrying about it fitting for a fleeting moment in time. She walked to the full length mirror and stood before it, the old wives tale about vampires not having a reflection a complete lie as she could see herself perfectly, her hair long and completely complementary to the jade satin that slid across the soft confines of her body. She reached behind her and zipped up the dress, the fit perfect and her mind not concerned in the slightest about her lack of underclothing. It truly mattered not with all she'd been through that evening. Death had swallowed her up and a demon from hell and pulled her free, forever marking her as unworthy of the kingdom of heaven. Anger rushed across her persona at the thought of forever being far to long to hate someone and yet she figured she'd give it a good try if nothing else.

A soft knock at her door had her jumping slightly, her small feet taking her to see who it might be. An elderly man dressed in butler attire nodded at her and inquired as to whether Vincent was still in the room with her. She started to answer before a deep burning sensation stole her breath, choking her and making it hard to concentrate on anything more than the large vein beating in the man's rather dilapidated neck. She knew quickly what was to come of the moment and used the last bit of her humanity to press past him, running up the small stone stairs and busting out into a large room filled with what looked like humans. The very small of them caused her to hit her knees, her fingers grasping for the collar of her gown and pulling as if she were unable to breathe.

A small female ran toward her and Elle used the girl to pull herself up again and run past them all, various members of the group screaming after her to see that she was alright. She ignored their cries and after a few minutes of ornate halls and lovely hand-crafted painting of various members of a family, she felt the soft grass touch her feet and night swept her up in a small bit of comfort. She fell to her knees and sobbed softly, unsure of where to go or what might become of her. All she knew was that she needed to escape from the smell of human flesh and the desire to rip deeply into it and drink without reprieve.

---

Sophie moved back, their master on a good day was a fright and yet now in front of them and fully angry.. he was a terror for all to lay eyes on. She murmured her apology and sunk back into the crowd, an angry look received from her mate who stood his ground and continued to question Victor. Just because one had years on their side did not give them reason to put the coven in danger and where Aaron was valid in his questioning, Victor was not one to be questioned and they all knew it. The collective group moved back away from the spectacle, leaving Aaron alone and at Victors mercy.

Aaron stiffened as the master lifted him up, a soft growl choking in his throat as to not further disrespect the strong male in front of him. "I am only here to protect you and assist with whatever you need, Victor. My challenge was done with emotion and for that I do apologize. Please do release me and tell me what I can do to he.."

He was cut off my the elderly butler running down the stairs yelling the same thing over and over. "She has escaped, Master, she has escaped."

Vincents eyes moved from Aaron to the old butler as he ran down the stairs, and his eyes returned to their golden shade. He sighed a little and let go of Aarons neck. "She's not really a prisoner." he said. It seemed as though his rage had never been there in the first place. He took a few moments to collect himself again before he followed Elle out the door. As he thought, she hadn't gotten very far.

He walked down the few steps from the porch and walked over to her. "Is this really such a good idea?" he asked, looking at her. "You know as well as I that you're much safer here than you would be out there, among the humans." he spoke softly. He crouched down beside her. "Listen, you need to feed soon, and a lot. Less you want to insane and attack anything that moves." he said.

He placed a hand on her shoulder before lifting her up in his arms. It was no point for her to struggle, even if she wanted to or not. "It would be better for all if you just come to accept your new fate." he said as he carried her inside again. He didn't give the other vampires a single look, for he knew it take a lot from them to question him again. Walking up the stairs, he opened the doors to his chambers again and closed them as he had entered with her.

He sat her down on his bed before fetching a dagger. He walked back to the bed and sat down next to her, looking at her. He cut his own wrist and held it out to her, letting his own prescious blood slowly flow. "Chose for yourself - accept my blood or go hunt innocent humans." he said, looking at her and waiting for her to decide.

The cool air around her gave her no reprieve as she bent over in the grass, the wetness touching her fingers and at one time promising to bring her peace. That time had since passed and she was stuck in the position of a servant, her mind locked in servitude to her hunger. She growled at the sound of someone approaching, Vincent lowering himself to the ground beside her. The colors of his skin and clothing faded into the night as her vision started to shift, shadows moving all around her in an effort to push her past the remaining drops of her humanity and into the monster should would soon become.

His words were more a muted whisper and yet she heard the vibrations enough to understand what he said. She'd not be able to live with herself if she attacked a room full of humans, slaughtering the creatures she once gave up her life to fight for. She leaned her head against his chest, sighing out and gripping his arm tightly to try to keep a grip on reality. He moved them back through the house and she tried to thank him, but her stomach felt as if it were lit up and something had grown from the flames, its claws trying desperately to rip it's way from her core.

He spoke and she heard him not, the smell of his blood - rich, ancient, desire and lust - caused her to leap toward him, her teeth growing and sinking deep into the meat of his wrist as she drew in long gulps, her eyes moving up to this face as if to watch him in carnal satisfaction. He would be the death of her and yet for the moment all she felt was alive. She pulled back violently and growled one word.

"More."

Vincent watched her hunger grow as she dug her teeth into his wrist. He flinched a little as her fangs hit his bones. She needed some work on that, no doubt. The key to a successful feeding had to be done without causing too much damage to the host, giving an easier and less likely damaging - for the vampire - feeding. He watched her, letting her drink almost as much as she wanted. But he was keeping attention on how much she drank. He didn't want her to drink too much, causing him to become weak.

As she let go of his wrist to take in the sensation of her first feeding, he pulled his hand back and let the wound heal. "Patients." he said as he stood and walked over to the small table. He took a piece of cloth and wiped the blood off of his wrist. "You need training." he said, looking back at her before walking back to her. He ysed to cloth to wipe the blood off around her mouth. He was showing her surprising gentleness and tenderness. He placed his hand around her chin and used his thumb to stroke her cheek while looking at her.

He soon let go of her and walked over to the door. He opened it and stepped outside. "Charles!" he called out before walking in again. "Training can wait for now, though." he said. He looked down on his shirt and saw the bloodstains he had on it. He sighed a little before pulling it off. He looked back at the old butler as he had entered to room, standing silent and patiently at the door for his orders. "Bring us more blood. A lot more." he said before holding out the shirt for him. "And get this cleaned up." he said before Charles bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Standing in the middle of the room, his golden gaze watched her and he wondered how long it would take her before her to realize what she had turned into. Only a few minutes went by before Charles came back with a big pitcher with fresh blood and two glasses. He put them on the table begore excusing himself again. "Help yourself." Vincent spoke and held out a hand towards the blood while looking at Elle.

She licked at her teeth, the motions so foreign to her and yet she couldn't fathom not ensuring that every morsel of his rich, fragrant blood was off her lips and teeth and ingested into the burning hunger in her belly. She stopped her animalistic motions when he approached, a sense of wanting to respect and become loyal to the man before her flittered through her wandering thoughts and it stopped her in surprise. It must've been the pull of his own blood in her system because before the events of tonight he would never had drawn this close to her and kept his life.

She watched him in a bit of wonder and nodded her head in agreement. She would need training, of that she was assured. The small fire from the far corner of the room licked at the flames it was fed earlier in the night, the corrosive effect of its heat breaking down the very thing that would keep the fire alive. Her mind sat on the subject as he glided toward the door, his very elegance baffling. So many misunderstood the very physical make-up of a vampire. They were thought to be topical nightmare at best and myth at worse and yet people thought of them as human with the tendencies of a monster. How far from the reality that would become her future.

Vampires were simply monsters with human cloaks. Nothing more.

That Vincent could maintain a hold on the beast that he truly was and converse, glide and speak in hushed tones left her with far more questions than answers. The soft touch of his cold fingers on her face reminded her that he was in essence a child of death. She looked from his strong frame to the fire again, her voice soft and yet she knew without a doubt that he could hear her voice as if she were yelling to him in a crowded room. "What is the necessity of the fire if not to warm the living?"

She walked away from her reverie, her stare locked to his as he spoke to her, his offering one she felt the need to grab and drink with expedience, but she held herself tightly in check and simply took the glass, thanked him and stole a glance at the lovely sculpted planes of his body. For being a monster, she'd admit quickly that he was a beautiful one.

Vincent looked over at her, a calm look on his face. "When offered a drink, it is rude not to drink it." he said before walking past her. His voice was low and calm, but deep down there were a hint of darkness and a warning. If she didn't drink blood, and a lot of it, whinin the first twenty-four hours of being turned, she would perish. Not only that, by drinking his blood - which she had in her glass - their beond would become stronger with every drop she drank, making it harder for her to deny her fate and him. As he walked past her, he crossed the room and opened a large wardrobe. Looking inside, he soon pulled out a new, clean, white shirt that he dressed himself in - casually leaving a few buttons open.

"The fire has its reasons..." he said mysteriously as he walked closer again. He stopped right behind her, put his hands on her waist and leaned in. "I admire beautiful and powerful things. Such as the fire..." he whispered as he ran one of his hands onto her belly and his lips down her neck. "...such as you." he continued. He could smell his own blood flowing through her vains. He held her close to his chest for a while before letting go - quite reluctantly so, himself.

There was a knock on the door and Vincent let out a bothered sigh before asking the person to enter. Opening the door was a young woman, with the same red eyes and black hair as Vincent.

"Vincent, you're needed downstairs. Your guests have arrived and starts to grow tired of waiting for you." She spoke with attitude in her voice, a fierce glare at the man and a posture that would give no doubt of her status.

"Yes, yes... of course." he said before looking over at Elle again. He didn't smile, he didn't say anything, but his eyes told her he didn't want to leave. Turning to face the woman again, he started walking out of the room. "Keep an eye on her." he said as he walked, but stopped beside the woman. "And don't you dare..."

"I know. Now, go." the woman spoke and watched him leave the room before disapearing down the hallway. Turning around again, her red eyes sticking to Elle. She walked into the room and closed the door behind her. "So... it is you." she spoke as she walked over to Elle - a walk so demanding anyone would move to give her room. "You are the one he chose." she said as her eyes started to inspect her from head to toe. She scuffed as a grin turned up on her face. "He could do so much better." she said before walking over to the small table where the pitcher. She looked at it, but never even touched the pitcher. "His own blood... typical."

The woman sighed before pulling her hands through her long, black hair and sat down in the magestic chair Vincent had been sitting on not too long ago. Her deep red and black dress fit her perfectly and folded nicely as she sat down. "Go on. Don't be shy." she said, looking at Elle before holding out a hand towards the chair on the opposite side of the table. "Take a seat. I won't bit, I swear." she said, her grin returning to her face. "My brother would kill me if I did."