The pack of Werewolves raced across the city, and into the forests on the outskirts. With the moon shining down its ominous glow, the fifty or so remaining werewolves had made a meal out of the Ball goers, just as the Count had planned. At the lead of the pack, the largest wolf and Alpha roared in anger as its paws clawed the earth, sending up tufts of grass and mud. The wolf’s black fur saturated from the heavy rain fall, and the blood of Edward, still soaked into its fur.
Maybe the Count did not get the true prize for the night, for the Father Amos was attacked by one of their own it seemed, causing a change in plan. But he did give Lillian one hell of a smack down, and she was now more than aware of the Werewolves declaration that they had come to London…to dominate all others in their path. So many demons and angels fell to the attack of the werewolves, it was an odds on certainty, that the war had only just begun.
Passing through the opened gates of the castle grounds, the wolf pack spread out till reaching the front drive, where each slowed down, and started to change back from their werewolf hides, to that of their human personas. Each rising to stand tall, their fur falling away to reveal the naked ones beneath. None was so notable as the Count himself, who had two bullet wounds. He had been shot, and though this did not kill him, it did injure him. Also his chest was scarred from the blue electrical attack that Edward had committed, trying to save Lillian.
“All of you .. innen. Als der Junge kommt … du wirst ihn zu mir bringen … personlich.”
(translation: “All of you..inside. When the boy comes…you will bring him to me…personally.”)
That being said, his staff and guards all nodded in unison, before reentering the castle to change into their clothing, whilst the Count stared out at the silhouette of the city.
“It’s not over. It has just begun.”
The redhead, Esmeralda appeared smug to see the Count had returned without Elvira upon his arm. She shot a sideways glance at Clarissa, who fanned herself and chuckled darkly. Clarissa was a striking woman with platinum blonde locks, done up fashionably as one would expect of a noblewoman of that era. The Count merely walked on past them, though he knew their thoughts on the matter. They saw the infatuation that the Count had for the English woman, that bore a striking resemblance to his dead love, Katarina, as nothing more than an obsession, and one that would bear no fruit.
The Count came to stand at the fire place, where Katarina’s image looked down from the ancient oil painting. Eyes that seemed to be staring straight at the Count. Why he held a candle to his lost beloved for all these centuries remained a mystery. The Count did not like to speak much of her death, or why he believed Elvira was her new vessel. Esmeralda was unable to hold back any longer.
“You found her, yes?” She said, rising from her chair, and glided over toward the Count, reaching to stroke his back with her gloved fingers. The Count allowed this. She was part of the pack, and knew her place. He used her as much as the other females, but the one he truly wanted eluded him. Without looking back at Esmeralda, the Count answered her curtly. “I did.”Clarissa actually stopped waving her fan, and closed it, setting it down upon her lap. ” And…?” Clarissa clearly wanted to hear the juicy details, of what may have transpired. Did the Count attack her, curse her with his blood? The Count glanced back at Clarissa, while Esmeralda continued to fawn over the Count. “Her Father is dead…she was in mourning. I let her be.”Esmeralda loved the sound of this. The idea that he did not bring her into the fold, gave her more time to work on him, and claim the place of mate to the Alpha for herself. “The poor girl. Too bad…so sad.” Though she appeared to be glum about this, inside she was rejoicing. “Yes…I must agree. You can hardly court a woman who suffers grief and loss. It’s far from romantic.” Clarissa added, giving Esmeralda a sly wink. The Count shrugged, and then headed off to his den, to enjoy a cigar and brandy, while the two women both cackled, and went back to plotting against Elvira when the time came.
Esmeralda was prowling around her room in a long fur coat, scantily clad in a middle-eastern bikini outfit underneath that accentuated her curves marvelously. A dream had awakened her from a long slumber, a rest she desperately craved after going on a nightly prowl in her wolf form the previous evening. As she couldn’t control herself as a wolf, she also couldn’t remember her actions when she was in that form and always felt drained when she came home. With a scowl, she turned towards her large desk in the corner of the room where various magical instruments were stored. Felix came slithering from the above raptors, crawling down to the floor and over to his mistress. Climbing up her body, he wrapped around her shoulders and a deep rumble of approval came from Esme. Turning her head to kiss him gently on the head, her thick Romanian accent came through “My love, we have much work to do…” Stepping towards the desk, she lifted a sheet off of her crystal ball. Resting her hand on it, she lifted her face toward the ceiling as her power surged through her body. Her breasts heaved up and down as she began to breathe heavily, Romanian chants leaving her plump lips. After her chants were over, she looked down at the ball and raised an eyebrow. What she saw was a bit disturbing.[/center]
With a dramatic sigh, she whirled around and stalked over to her armoire. Pulling on a simple black dress with the appropriate lace and cinching to show off her form, she then stalked out of her room to prowl down the hallways. As she walked, she could hear the cackling of the atrocious women in the estate. Growling, she caught glimpses of the conversation about the count courting a woman. Who would he be courting so suddenly? Turning away from them, she continued down the hallway.
Stepping into the den, Esmeralda looked around the room carefully. Though she knew she was perfectly safe here in the count’s home, there was still always a feeling of anxiety evident around her as she entered a new room. You could never be too careful. Walking around the room like a jungle cat, her hips swayed and her eyes flitted around the room. So many things to discuss with the count. Amos was dead, and it happened at the ball her “cousin” had thrown. To top if off, Juliette was now on a power trip and was accumulating the help of Lillith’s minions and hell hounds to help overthrow the balance of power between good and evil. And now, the count decides to have a love life. Sighing, she rolled her eyes and turned around to wait for the count to come in as she had anticipated his movements in the crystal.
After a few hours with her dressmaker and hairstylist and an hour sucking up to the ladies of the East London Gossip Circle, she finally had the location of Count Marulo’s estate.
She paused at the end of the main road, simply staring at the massive estate before her. It was impressive, much like the man himself, she admitted. With lush lawns and sprawling land, it looked as if it could have been made into a postcard.
Making sure her hat still remained on her head, she directed Jezzie into a light canter up to the main entrance of the house. Standing on the steps were two very large and identical looking men. As she approached, they met her on the walkway to render her assistance.
Before she knew what had happened, one of them had placed his very large hands about her waist to haul her down from Jezzie’s saddle. The change in height caused her to get dizzy and stumble slightly but the hands were steady and sure. The other led Jezzie to the stables to feed and rest.
Once she had caught her balance, she stepped back and had to actually crane her neck upward to stare at the two of them.
“Devil’s teeth! You’re some large ones aren’t you?” she stated in shock.
For some reason these twins found this hilarious and erupted into huge barrels of laughter. She found herself smiling against her will.
“How may we be of assistance, Madame?” the twin on the right.
“Well…yes…um. I was wondering if I could have a private word with Lord Marulo, please?” she asked, feeling nervous all of a sudden.
“And who shall we say is calling upon him?” asked the twin on the left.
“Lady Elvira Roxburg.” she replied. The twins looked at one another before stepping back and giving her a formal bow.
“On behalf of Count Marulo, we offer our sincere condolences on the passing of your father. He was well-respected and a great warrior.” the both stated. She had to turn away for a moment, quickly removing a handkerchief from her reticule to dab at her eyes.
“Thank you for your words of kindness.” she replied after she had collected herself. They took up her arms, tucking her hands into their forearms to lead her into the house. She felt kind of….lost….next to these walking, talking behemoths.
They lead her to the main foyer and indicated that she should have a seat while they went to see if the Count would be amendable to seeing her. They headed up the main stairs and out of view. Nervously, she wiped her gloved hands down the front of her dress, smoothing any wrinkles that may have been formed on the ride over before she took a seat.
Now the question was, would he be kind and allow her audience, or would he toss her out on her arse?
The strike of the match set off the flame, that would burn the tobacco that was packed into the wooden pipe. Clenched between his teeth, he tossed the match into the fire place, and then picked up a large crystal goblet of brandy. Still sporting the silk black robe, that was opened at the front, exposing much of his chest and abdomen, along with a daring view of his lower torso, where his black pants just rested upon his hip bones. He was well formed, you could almost say it was like he had been chiseled from stone itself. The Count stood with a regal air, enjoying the taste of the tobacco, which went well with his brandy. It was moments like this, he almost felt human. Of course, he wasn’t. He was the Alpha male of the Bavarian pack of werewolves that were set to conquer London, if he had anything to do with it. Course, there was the matter of the Roxburg beauty. She had bewitched him, and quite rightly so, as she bore the striking resemblance to that of Katarina.
While his thoughts were filled with images of her, showing fury at his logical questions and retort, he had to admit, it was hard to contain himself, against her. Literally, she aroused him to no end, but as a Gentleman, it was uncouth for him to even entertain the notion of ravaging her, whilst she grieved for the loss of her father. He was a gentleman first….wolf second. Little did he realize that by his act of simply leaving her in a state of undress, and without attacking her, she would follow him. It was not his plan, not at all, but it seemed curiosity got the better of the young Elvira.
The twin guards had done their duty and well, by showing her the way into the Estate, and to the foyer, where they made her wait for an audience. The twins would venture to the door of his den, to see the Count just underneath a grand portrait of himself, painted well over five hundred years before. The days, when he lived to please only his love, Katarina, and the days before war had taken him from her….forever.
“You have a visitor, Count.” Said one. “Tis the Lady Roxburg, Count” the second said, smiling with an odd expression. The Count looked at the pair with a mild disinterest and then nodded. “Escort her up here, if you would.”
The twins both bowed low, and went back down the stairs to fetch Elvira. There was about to be one very interesting meeting, when she was to see the Count again. But now, it was on his turf, and not the ruins of her garden. Would she stay?
Glancing over at the svelte Esme, who had entered the room draped in her pet snake, the Count raised an eyebrow sharply. “Do the females not keep you amused, dear cousin?” he asked, approaching her and then picking up the snake’s tail before dropping it, like it was something foul. His musky wolf scent would be overpowering, as he cracked his neck and then looked at Esme. “Surely I bore the likes of you. Ever thought of romping with Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum?’ he meant the guards of course, since he often wondered about Esme’s appetite for male flesh.
They knocked on the door for her before leaving her alone in the hallway, vanishing silently, which was a feat in and of itself since they were so large.
Patting her tightly-coiffed hair and adjusting her hat once more, she took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves before opening the door and stepping inside.
The first thing that caught her attention was the large painting of the Count hanging over the fireplace mantel. She was instantly drawn to his eyes…they seemed to stare into her very soul.
The second thing that caught her attention was the woman with the large snake wrapped around her shoulders.
“Oh! I’m sorry…I didn’t realize you already had company. I can come back later?” She turned to leave…and then spied The Count. Her tongue threatened to make a fast exit from her mouth. She had caught the barest glimpse of him as he changed into the wolf at the ball and thought he was an impressive specimen then. But seeing him standing there in a robe, open and pants barely hanging off his lean hips…not only was her succubus screaming to be let out…but the woman in her had also sat up and taken notice. And she liked what she saw. Her eyes traveled down his torso, devouring him with her eyes, following the trail of hair that dipped beneath the waistband of his silk pants.
Was she drooling?
Realizing she was making a fool of herself, she whirled around to face the door, a red tinge to her cheeks.
“I-I-I…uh…I hope I’m not disturbing you.” she stammered. Devil’s teeth! What was wrong with her?
Esmeralda shook her head slowly as a small smile curved her deliciously plump lips. Striding over to the count, she dropped her head in a polite bow before facing him again. Raising an eyebrow, her thick accent rolled of her tongue. “They do not…” As he touched Felix, the snake lifted its head to stare at Marulo. No one hardly ever touched him but Esme, but the smell of the wolf combined with just looking at the count was enough to make the snake lower its head once more. She laughed softly and turned to kiss his head“There there.” Turning away from the count, she began to waltz around the room and rolled her eyes. “You cannot be serious…you could never bore me.” As he mentioned the twins, her dark eyes turned to gaze upon the count in mild disgust. If it were anyone else who suggested such a thing, it would not have ended well. However, she knew Marulo meant no harm and was just curious. Shaking her head, she turned away and resumed walking around the room. “I wouldn’t let those men touch me if they were the last on this earth.” Esmeralda had never had a man and hoped she never did. Deep down she feared that if she should lay with a man, he would impregnate her and history would repeat itself. Men could not be trusted and she would not leave the fate of an innocent child in their hands.
Esme was lost in her lost thoughts but was soon pulled from them when the sound of a female voice entered the room. Turning her head, her eyes fell on Elvira assessing. Stepping towards her slowly, her hips swayed and Felix lifted his head to get a look at her as well. Tilting her head, Esme stepped close enough to reach out and lift her hair, her face leaning in close to inhale her scent. Her eyes closed as her mouth set in a thin line, her face tightening in concentration. After a few awkward moments, she let her go and walked away as if nothing happened. While walking towards the fireplace, she stroked Felix’s head as her accent was rolling off her tongue again “You were interrupting nothing important, I assure you.” Her eyes flicked between the succubus and the count and she count just smell the pheromones coming off of the both of them. Rolling her eyes, Esme’s head swiveled just in time to see Elvira face the door as a blush stained her cheeks. She couldn’t help but smile at that but she remained silent. There was something familiar about this woman and she was too eager to leave.
But their conversation was to be short lived, on the arrival of the female that had aroused the Count’s desire before, and it would seem just by seeing her again, it would have the same affect. ~Elvira~ the Count could only think her name as she appeared in the door. The young Roxburg looked astonishing. So immaculately dressed, the fine attention to detail with her gown, and the way her hair had been styled. He mentally started to undress her, imagining what it would feel like, to remove the pins that held her hair in place, and watch it cascade down her shoulders and back, like a torrent. The sight of her almost stole his breathe from his lungs. Such an affect this woman had on him. The fact he wore such fine black pants of silk did nothing to hide his arousal. The only thing to break his concentration was Esme’s retort, that Elvira was not interrupting anything important.
“My cousin jests, for I was curious as to her talents with…snakes.” The Count strode past Esme giving her something of a sly wink, then headed over to Elvira, were he did the gentlemanly thing, of taking up her hand and bringing it to his lips. Pressing them softly to her gloved hand, but letting them linger a second longer than was fashionable. His eyes lit up just by presence of her , hard to believe that she sought him out. It took a great deal of courage to enter the Wolf’s den. Elvria acted like a lamb…about to be slaughtered. Timid. The Count found it endearing. His smile reassuring, that she would come to no harm.
“I must say, you do look stunning, Lady Roxburg. If I were a painter, my brushes would be wet, and I would be trying to capture you on canvas.” The words spun were meant as they were implied, though it would make her wonder, just what brushes he meant. He moved to her side, gracefully, and placed a hand around the small of her back, and gestured her to enter his den. “Do come meet my cousin, the insatiable Esme.” By the way he kept her close to him, the Count was making it clear to Esme, he wanted this woman to be shown the respect of a leading pack member.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end once more and she simply knew The Count was standing close. Now that she was aware of him more closely, she seemed to have this sixth sense of when he was near. Thoughts were paid into actions when he took her hand in his much larger one to place a kiss upon her knuckles, holding it much longer than politeness dictated. She turned, her hand still within his and began to feel light-headed. Too close! Too close! Her mind screamed and it was all she could do not to faint right there.What the hell was wrong with her? She mentally slapped herself. But his scent was calling out to her, drawing her in and that’s when it clicked…for both her and her succubus. MATE!?!?! OH HELL NO!!!
This was simply NOT possible!! There was no way in the Nine Levels of Hell this man, this werewolf!, was her destined mate!
She had no time to step away from him for he had stepped to her side, still holding her hand while placing his other at the small of her back. Her whole body tensed as a jolt of desire, strong and potent lanced through her. She grit her teeth as she was lead across the room. “I must say, you do look stunning, Lady Roxburg. If I were a painter, my brushes would be wet, and I would be trying to capture you on canvas.”
Oh he was a smooth talker. Her free hand clenched at her side as she mentally struggled with her succubus. She wanted out. She wanted to bond and she wanted to do it NOW! A sheen of perspiration beaded on her brow as she fought for her much-valued self-control.
It was a mistake to come here. And now she wanted to leave as quickly as possible.
“Thank you for your kind words, My Lord, and for allowing to see me.” she stated, finally finding her voice. He introduced her to his ‘cousin’ and she turned to the woman. “A pleasure, madame.” she nodded. She turned back to The Count, pulling the locket out and placing it on the table before them. “You left this behind. I knew it meant much to you so I am returning it.”