The count glanced back at her only briefly. His eyes had narrowed yet again. He refused. 

"I shall not. The conditions remain. My demand has yet to change. You must make a choice. Wed or join them, the curse forever remaining. I truly detest repeating myself. As I have stated, I shall be at my castle, awaiting your decision. You have one week to decide. You have until the eighth sunrise from this very morning. Until then, farewell."


He was soon outside. He had left the house and vanished as quickly as he had arrived. Within the cover of shadows and his dark magic, the count returned to his home. He was not a patient man. It would not be long before he sent minions, created by magic, to check on her, to make sure she did not escape or try to get out of it. 


Lord Christopher Mortimer Edwards Voltaire always got his way, or so he thought.