Of Warmth and Blood

She felt cheated somehow! It had all gone so fast, and yet...she blushed again to realize the wetness of the clinging cotton that was her panties. Some element of this had been real, all right. She rose to take a trip to the restroom...Craven\'s icy stare in her head.
Gabrielle awoke with a start. She had been dreaming of her dark Prince again, and now she was curious. She dug up an old book she had, on the shelf in her bedroom. It contained old histories, and one chapter told a story of a crude Wallachian Prince, by the name of Vlad Tepches. They had called him Vlad the Impaler and it was said in folklore that his is how, at least according to members of the occult, the legend of Dracula was formed. Dracula was said to be the son of the devil, hence Prince Vlad, who had never really died, but had lived on through the centuries and became known as the ultimate vampire.All of this had seemed kind of pointless to Gabrielle at one time, but if she could find out just who this dark man was....
This is stupid, she thought as she closed the book. The artist\'s image of Dracula stood out in her mind and ever since she was a girl she\'d secretly found him attractive. Yet that was again, silly, because this was only an artists\'s rendering and surely not the real thing. The real man for all she knew was hideous as well as cruel. No matter. Tonight, she would dream and then ask him. She would know she was dreaming and this time demand answers. Before laying down to sleep, she said prayers this time and wore a cross around her neck. Her grandfather had given it to her months before he\'d died and it was a special item to her.
\"Sentimental value means nothing unless it\'s fought for with your own blood\" Craven had once said to her. She was beginning to think that Craven was patronizing her. Teasing her....slowly her green eyes opened. She was staring at a high golden, ornately carved ceiling. Scaffolding reached to the gold column and the walls were stark white. Where was she now? She knew she could not falter this time. She had to know the truth, had to get some answers this time. Yet, the site of Craven, as he called himself, both chilled her yet repulsed her. She felt her body recoil within itself. She did not want to pay attention to what she wore this time yet she couldn\'t help but notice she low cut white dress, a slit up the side. Her hair hung loose down her back, not a style she would normally choose. She cleared her throat, and addressed him.
That same _expression and eye brow\'s raise told her he understood. Yet she remained calm.
\"I have to know\" was all she said. The brazieres threw hazy shadows all over the grand ballroom. Ah, yes of course. The man did like to dance, and if she didnt\' know any better each dream was another wine and dine session for him. For her? Who knew. At this point she couldn\'t afford to take chances. She let her gaze fall into his eyes and her throat was dry. She tried to clear it, but the surreal blue in his eyes was making her neck sweat. Instead of answering her burning questions he cupped her face, ever so gently in his hands and kissed her passionately on the lips. Her mind was telling her to demand answers of him. Her mind raced--she didnt\' even know if he was alive yet his body was warm and pressed against her, it felt more alive to her than it ever had. As if he was reading her mind he pressed one of her hands, palm side toward him and held it to his chest.
\"Does my heart not beat, as any man\'s?\" He let the question sink in. She had a rebutal this, if need be, a back up plan. \"Yes, but this is my dream and I could will life into you. If you are real why have you not shown yourself to me before?\" For answer, Craven said \"Does my face not show desire for you?\" The pout that suddently appeared could rival any angst ridden rock star and she was reminded briefly of a teenaged boy, awestruck with love. As quick as he\'d been pouting, his sensual mouth formed into a smirk. \"Did I not demonstrate to you my desire....last time we met?\" That coquestish grin that usually turned her knees to mush, allowed her to add fuel to her fire. She had to know, to hell with his denial.
\"You could be denying the fact that you aren\'t....\" She couldn\'t let herself finish. But she\'d gone too far. \"Alive.\" There , she\'d said it!
Instead of an emotional reaction she had been predicting, she got another kiss for an answer. ANd though she tired to protest verbally, she found her body doing something else. She felt the warmth she knew was for him spreading from her loins to her waist and her knees were weak.
\"You cannot desire what is not life\"
He pricked a tiny hole in her shoulder, close to her neck. Where had that needle come from?
\"And. blood is life\"
He tenderly licked away the red line forming, and let his tounge wander to her throat then down to her cleavage. His hands got their first and he gently cupped her breast.
\"And life...is precious\"