Northern Lights, Familiar Faces (Shiva x Vekraihr)

[Shiva the Cat]

It was quickly turning into the best summer of Amy Erickson's life, despite her struggle to find a man who apparently did not exist.

She'd had some hesitation when she was first offered the Edwards Fellowship; the twenty-year-old student had never been out of the US before, and she didn't speak a lick of Swedish. But the representatives assured her there would be no problem; all prospective host families spoke perfect English, as did everyone affiliated with the Red House Foundation. After all, Anna Edwards had written all thirteen of her books in that language, even though she'd written the first three at her maternal grandfather's estate in Alost, near the Gulf of Bothnia.

In the four weeks since she'd arrived in the area, Amy had already visited the the Andreas Ljung House six times, her eyes bursting into tears the first time she stood in the exact hallways where Anna Edwards had stood more than a hundred years earlier. Other girls might have preferred Jane Austen or the Brontës, but the dark romance and seductive horror of Edwards had always resonated deeply in Amy's heart and soul. The headstrong heroines and their brooding lovers, the scandalous language, and the isolated settings of haunted castles in the Scandinavian woods had always proved an escape from the young woman's unremarkable Midwestern childhood, and now as an adult her great love was translating into a budding academic career. This was the first time an undergraduate had ever been offered the Edwards Fellowship, a unique opportunity to live and work near the Andreas Ljung House for an entire summer, during which Amy would spend a few days of the week giving tours, and the rest of the time be granted access to some of the famous authoress' private papers and records. Best of all, during the last month of the program, she would actually be allowed to live in the house itself, where she would be expected to write either a work of fiction or a thoroughly researched paper on her discoveries.

Most fellows chose the former, and several had gone on to be respected authors in their own right. But Amy always considered herself a more productive consumer of literature than a producer, and already she was building the outline for her research paper. While most scholars had already torn apart Edwards' first book, Song of the Silver Tree, very few records survived regarding the period in which she had written it. The debut novel had always been Amy's favorite of the thirteen, and she was determined to find out what had been going through Edwards' mind at the time she wrote it.

She'd already managed to gather some basic information leading up to the publication: in 18xx, Edwards and her parents, William and Klara, had traveled to the home of Andreas Ljung—Klara's father—for the winter. It was during this time that William had begun writing his famous treatise on DeFoe, while Klara was busy working on a series of short pieces that would later be turned into Mrs. Edwards' Tales for Children. The family remained in Alost for almost six months before returning to their home in London, and it was during the tail end of this visit that the then twenty-year-old Anna wrote Song of the Silver Tree in an astonishing four weeks.

But that left five months unaccounted for, and Amy was determined to find out how Edwards had spent them. The authoress had kept no diary, although a few other members of the household did. Unfortunately these were all written in Swedish, and even if Amy could have understood them they had already been translated decades earlier, with only the occasional mention of Edwards' daily activities. Undaunted, Amy had decided to expand her circle of research, and that was how she had found out about Ulbrechtställe.

The manor was located almost an hour away from the Andreas Ljung House, but all sources could confirm it had been standing there for well beyond a century. While there was no evidence that Edwards had ever visited the grand old hall, it was known that the current inhabitant was something of a scholar himself, and rumor had it that he was in possession of several valuable documents pertaining to the authoress that, for whatever reason, he had refused to share with the Red House Foundation. Then again, the current Herr Ulbrecht didn't seem interested in sharing anything at all with his neighbors, and indeed Amy had a hard time finding anyone who had even seen the man.

Deciding a more direct approach was necessary to make contact, she had then moved on to trying to find a phone number for him, or an email, or even a social media account would at least be something. But other than in the rumors of the locals, Herr Ulbrecht didn't seem to exist at all. Finally, she decided the only thing to do was to visit the house herself and see if it really was inhabited. After all, if she got caught she could always play the Dumb American Tourist card and try to bluff her way out of whatever awkward situation might arise.

Amy wasn't going to be in the country long enough to validate getting a driver's license, so in order to make the trip she would need to take the bike her host family had provided her for day-to-day transport. That meant waking up extra early on her next day off, which was far from pleasant considering how chilly the mornings could be even in the height of summer. But the alarm wouldn't shut off, and so it was with a groan the young woman rolled out of bed, her shoulder length mass of white-blond hair falling forward in front of her sleepy brown eyes.

Her host family, the Nybergs, were a retired couple in late middle age whose children had all grown up and left home, and they'd been able to provide Amy not only with her own bedroom but a private bath as well. Unfortunately, the house had been built rather compactly, and at nearly six feet tall the American needed to duck a little in the shower to ensure she didn't concuss herself on the shower head. The narrow stall also tended to make her feel a little claustrophobic, considering she'd been dealt well above what she considered her fair share in the T&A department. Even now it was sometimes embarrassing to hear some of the teenage boys in town whispering and pointing at her bountiful chest, which was why unless formalwear was absolutely necessary, Amy always stuck to wearing loose sweatshirts even in the warmth of the afternoon.

There wasn't much she could do to conceal her equally prominent behind, but at least that and her thick thighs would serve a purpose today as she pedaled her way out to Ulbrechtställe. Pulling on a pair of comfortable jeans and durable sneakers, Amy decided not to bother with makeup. Her naturally dark brows were already striking enough against her light complexion, and she had been blessed with a set of plump lips that hardly needed further emphasis. She would have considered herself pretty if it weren't for her weak chin and just-a-little-too-big and slightly-upturned nose, but there wasn't much cosmetics could do to fix that. Instead, she slipped two small silver rings in her left eyebrow, an enhancement she always hoped would draw people's attention upward and away from her less attractive features. She wore a few more similar rings in both ears, those additional piercings having come from teenage rebellion more than any practical purpose, but she rarely bothered wearing any other jewelry.

After a quick breakfast, the young woman filled her water bottle and packed a few snacks, then set out into the misty morning for Ulbrechtställe. As far as Amy was aware, it was far off of the main road, but plenty of research on Google Maps had helped her find the estate and put a pin in it, so all she had to do was listen to the periodic instructions to find her way to the ancient manor. Strangely enough though, a journey that shouldn't have taken her more than an hour and a half quickly doubled in length, with the atonal voice of the navigator constantly “Recalculating...” every twenty minute or so. By the time the ivy-clad, red-roofed manor house came into view it was past noon and ominous clouds were beginning to gather in the sky.

“Great...” Amy muttered, having completely failed to pack a rainjacket in her backpack. Dismounting from the bike, she walked it across a sturdy-looking bridge that crossed was was either a moat or a very still stream, marveling in the beauty of the place while at the same time looking for any sign of inhabitants. As far as she could tell there were no tire tracks, no waste or recycling bins, not even a footprint in the gravel courtyard. At the same time though, every window she saw was wholly intact and curtained, and there wasn't the slightest sign of disrepair anywhere.

A low grumble of thunder rumbled overhead, making the young woman shiver. Trusting that if no one was around her bike would be relatively safe, she carefully stored it beneath the overhanging roof of a locked outbuilding, then decided to approach the first door of what she assumed was the main house.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked sharply against the aged yet solid wood. “Hallå?” She called out hopefully, leaning over to peer in a dark window nearby. ”Hello? Is anyone there?” The odds that whoever lived here spoke English was probably slim, but it seemed worthwhile to give it a shot.

Overhead, the thunder grew louder.

 

[Vekraihr]

How many years had it been since Jerrik had left behind the mortal coil and unified with the night clans as one of their vampiric kin? Years tended to blur together as the centuries past and he often found himself losing entire days merely perusing dusty old tomes and ancient scrolls. It took him quite some time to become the man he was today, his initial transformation taking place after the slaughter of his kinsmen in his village of Gothenstad. After fighting until he was the last standing, an offer was made to give him life everlasting in reward for his bravery and ferocity. With great deliberation, he accepted and underwent the painful sequence of days that followed until his heart beat its last as a living man. He'd been a boat builder before, crafting the finest longships and most beautifully ornate canoes. His hands had been hardened from the days of toil and he always seemed to carry the scent of wood with him. He used his knowledge in undeath to sail the seas for pleasure, at first. It wasn't long before he was scouring the world for hidden treasures and secret whispers to pillage and amass for his own pleasure.

Moen, who'd been the lord that turned Jerrik, bequeathed a keep to the fledgling vampire as a token of appreciation for his quick acclimation to the lifestyle. Over the years, the halls filled with boundless amounts of wealth and knowledge, of which he spent more and more of his time on as he grew obsessed with the expansion of his mind. 50 years following his death, Jerrik ceased adventuring out and instead relied on his own personally turned brood of emissaries and scouts to collect items for him to decorate his expansive home with. Rarely, someone nosy would come along and try to poke their head into his keep but hardly anyone ever dared enter. Jerrik formed a trust and transferred ownership to the castle to it and paid for the upkeep through an account managed by the trust and funded entirely through his personal hoard and his use of his discerning mind to give himself an advantage in the markets and allowed his trust fund to flourish. Jerrik had needed for nothing since.

It was the throes of summer and Jerrik's reclusive lifestyle lead to even further isolation as he couldn't even stroll his castle grounds for fear the sun might burn his flesh. However, he received brief moments of reprieve during the occasional rain and thunderstorms which would blot out the sun for an easily tracked number of hours. Outside the window of his study, thunder rumbled the panes of glass, and a soft smile formed over the gaunt visage of the vampire lord. His fangs were wicked and broad, protruding ever so slightly from his lip when his mouth was closed. His eyes were cold, icy blue, and set deep within the sockets due to the unnatural condition which afflicted him. Golden blonde hair adorned the top of his head, pulled into a tight warrior's knot in the rear while the sides of his head remained completely shorn to the pallid skin beneath. His features were angular but soft, traditionally Scandinavian with his heart-shaped jawline. He wore a long cloak of black with a midnight blue lining over top of a fine, white silken shirt with a similarly midnight blue cravat knotted near his strong neck.

Jerrik had been tall in life, his shoulders were broad and his body muscular and firm from the years of hard labor. His lavishly fitted clothes did nothing to diminish his intimidating, statuesque appearance as he rose from the dark wooden desk littered with scrolls and books with a candelabra lit in the corner. His long legs straightened within a pair of black slacks which had been pressed neatly and the legs ran crisply straight. He had seen many fashions over the years and he found an elegant simplicity in these clothes; but his shoes were a little primmer, a pair of black and white wingtips which gleamed with meticulous polishing. Thunder rumbled once again as he heard the call of a female voice ringing down the halls towards his ears. Certainly, she was still outside as he could pick up on the subtle shift in vibration which occurred when speaking through the old glass. Intrigue brought at least a solitary visitor every year, of this he was accustomed and he shook his head slowly as he began to stride smoothly towards the foyer. “Det ligger en hund begraven här, (There is a dog buried here,)*” he muttered to himself amusedly as he made his way down the hall. His voice was deep and rich, almost guttural from its low pitch and he spoke in near a whisper, though his voice carried strongly.

His halls were dimly lit via gas sconces of bronze every few feet, though modern electrical lighting had been discreetly installed at some point. Jerrik simply didn’t care for it as much. Ruined the mood of the estate, in his opinion. The stonework floor had a long, flowing carpet made of regal colors-- blacks, reds, and purples -- which beset itself against the natural earthen tones of the stonework the estate was fashioned of. Footsteps were silent, quiet as the grave as his eyes narrowed upon the approaching foyer. No one had entered, not yet, though he could smell the scent of a young woman in the air. He always managed to be at odds with himself in these moments, as the gentleman he was long ago would have welcomed the company more hospitably. However, the monster in him had cravings, specific and unkind, which would pale skin and invoke terror among normal humans. Though he’d found those who wandered onto his estate typically weren’t of the normal variety. No, these had been people who filled their time with fantasy horror and consuming all the lore on offer surround a specific authoress.

He couldn’t blame them for enjoying her work. He, too, had enjoyed her for a time; entertaining her within his halls and teaching her of things that only the eyes of immortals still knew. He showed only a portion of the wealth he had to offer, but it was enough to lend hesitation to those who read to dismiss her cataloging as mere fantasy and conjecture. Her stay ended shorter than Jerrik might have desired, much to his dismay. He’d grown fond of the woman in her time there and she with him and, yet, when the time came for her to continue her life’s journey, she answered earnestly. Jerrik would not cage the bird meant to soar. Outside, he heard the sky rumble again as hit footsteps drew him into the darkened entrance hall. Small pillars supported the higher ceiling within this large chamber and elaborate tapestries hung from each, alternating in their depictions of an azure falcon rampant on a field of deep gray and a brown stag upon a field of green. One for his family and the other for the village which had been lost so long ago. Thick, charcoal hued drapes hung from the tops of the windows and were drawn open by velvet ropes of silver.

Outside, he heard the sky threaten to open once more as thunder loomed closer, rattling the windows softly as the powerful waves vibrated through the air. Jerrik himself grew intrigued as he wondered if the woman outside his door would brave the interior of his keep rather than the wrath of the coming storm? His form slipped into the shadows as he moved further away from the door, gesturing with a hand and, via some form of control, the door unlocked and began to creak open ever so slowly.

*Idiom meaning something suspicious is occurring

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Despite her love for the works of Anna Edwards, Amy was hardly a fan of horror movies. Still, the mysteriously opening door was enough to give her pause and send her glancing back hesitantly towards her bike. But now the wind was picking up, sending a cold spray of rain against her back and practically forcing her into the room. Once she was inside it close again with an audible bang, and for one brief moment the young woman was sure it had locked behind her. A quick test of the knob soon assured her that egress was still possible, if she wanted to get totally drenched of course. That settled she relaxed somewhat, but the desolation of the room was still more than enough to unnerve her.

"Hello?" she called out again, looking for any sign of human inhabitation. The door might have opened automatically of course, but as she glanced towards the ceiling and windows for signs of alarms or other modern security features, nothing was immediately obvious. While the Andreas Ljung house had been mostly preserved in its 19th century state, it at least had sensors on the windows and illuminated exit signs near the doors, along with everything else one might expect in a tourist attraction. This house seemed much more private, and the air felt strangely heavy, almost tomb-like.

The dark colors of the curtains and carpets didn't do much to brighten up the place, but there were a few electric lights trying to offset the dimness. It seemed Amy had found her way to the end of a long hallway, a part of the house that might have been servants' quarters once upon a time. She supposed she could have waited in the little sitting area until the storm had passed, but every now and then she thought she could hear something coming from the other end of the hall. If the inhabitants of the house were to find her there, what would they do? Probably not shoot her at least, considering this was Sweden and not the deep south, but it would still be embarrassing for her as a representative of the Red House Foundation. Perhaps the best thing to do was to try to find whoever lived here and just explain the situation.

Lowering the hood of her sweatshirt, she took a few tentative steps down the hall, periodically calling out "Hello!" and "Is anyone there?" in the hopes of alerting someone to her presence. There were several closed doors to her left, but it didn't seem right to open them. After all, if someone was inside and could hear here, surely they would come out and investigate, wouldn't they? It was only when she reached an open door at the end of the hall that Amy paused to poke her head inside. "Hello?" she murmured again, half-hoping and half-fearing someone might be inside.

Again though, she found herself alone. The room appeared to be some kind of library, with a wall lined with books and a beautifully carved desk near the wall. Despite the emptiness, a few lights were on in this room as well, with one in particular illuminating a small portrait of a young woman with white-blonde hair and eyes like rich chocolate.

"No way..." Amy gasped, forgetting her situation for a moment as she approached the painting. She'd seen plenty of paintings of Anna Edwards throughout her studies, but this one was something entirely new. The authoress was young, without the lines of toil around her eyes and mouth that had appeared in some of her later portraits. In this image she was fresh and young, barely past her teenage years, and her shockingly voluptuous body was covered in nothing more than a loose white sheet and her own thick main of hair. Her plush mouth was curled in just a hint of a smile and her eyes seemed to sparkle mischievously as they followed the observer around the room.

There was no signature in sight, but just beneath the painting an open book had been placed in a glass display case. Once she'd managed to tear her gaze away from the painting, Amy squinted a little as she attempted to read the spidery writing, which seemed vaguely familiar to her. It seemed to be a diary of some kind, dated from November 30th, 18--.

I went to visit Jerrik again today. I know I shouldn't, but I could not help myself. He exerts such a strange influence upon me that I cannot explain, and I fear I may be growing far too attached to him.

But how can I help myself? He is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. If one were to take a golden-haired, blue-eyed viking of the ancient world and refine him until his body is sharp and hard as a knife, they might come close to him. But he speaks with such elegance and wisdom that he often reminds me more of an elder statesman than a brutish warrior.

Do not mistake me though, he is not old! At least he does not seem so to look at him. Jerrik tells me I am older than he thinks, but surely he is no older than Cousin Tomas (that is to say, about thirty or so). Tomas is a foolish country lout though, whereas Jerrik seems the most brilliant man I have ever met. Not only in books, but in his experiences as well. I would never admit it to anyone but these pages, but I am horribly jealous of all the other women he must have had. Surely no man can make a woman's body respond to him the way mine does without plenty of practice! Why, just yesterday he had me strip naked and--

Amy immediately felt her face coloring as the page turned into a rather lewd description of the author's encounter with the mysterious "Jerrik," but when she reached the end of the page she found herself immediately starting over at the beginning. The letter "J" was particularly distinctive, and she found herself staring at it until she realized where she had seen the handwriting before.

"It's her journal!" she whispered aloud, feeling like Carter when he first discovered the tomb of King Tut. No one had ever found the journals of Anna Edwards, and it was a common point of contention between scholars whether they even existed. But the portrait and the script was enough to convince Amy of its authenticity, and she was half tempted to find a way to free the book from its glass case when a noise behind her made her freeze in place, heart pounding almost as loud as the thunder outside.

 

[Vekraihr]

Jerrik watched on as the young woman slowly entered his home, cautious with her every step but curiosity urged her forward. She seemed afeared, testing the door in order to ensure her safety and a small grin tugged at the corners of his lips. 'Hello?' she called out with an unmistakable accent. Americans truly didn't respect anyone's privacy, did they? He scoffed silently at the notion, remembering how frequently it was that American tourists had entered his home. Always lost, they claimed. Jerrik easily saw through the thin pretext as his mind and eyes were sharper than any mortal. It'd been some time since his last visitor, however, and he supposed it might give him good reason to practice his speech again. Her inquisitiveness led her on a mission down the hall, towards the chambers in which his acolytes would rest during their brief returns to the estate. Though, fortunately for her, these chambers remained empty. His juniors hadn't the same sense of control of their bloodthirst nor his own amusement with human women.

Flanking her on each side as she traveled the hall were works of art from all different periods and cultures; Edo Japan, the Ming Dynasty, the Ottoman Empire, to name a few. It seemed whomever lived here was a collector of all things rare and fine and the various frames and pedestals upon which these artworks were displayed seemed to be painstakingly crafted in order to not detract from the beauty of the originals. Jerrik followed, maintaining enough distance that the ensorcelled shadows which he pulled around him to obfuscate his appearance were never suspicious enough to draw her eye. As her hood lowered, Jerrik couldn't help his eyes drawing towards that familiar hair color of hers. It was one he had a positive association for ever since the extended stay of the authoress.

She came to the door at the end of the hall, a private library of his with an exhibition to her favored author; and his paramour. Anna had been a warm light in his cold afterlife which he'd remembered fondly throughout the years. Many a night, she warmed his side and he rewarded her with his knowledge, his attention, and, after some time, his affection. Were he a more wistful man, he might have shed a tear for her loss. However, his existence was tempered and persistent, which had seen the monster harden and strengthen over the years. Occasionally, he'd leaf through the journal, the case opened with the key which fit snugly in the breast pocket of his shirt. He was ever bemused by her prose and the way she described him and their various acts, carnal and otherwise, were nothing short of captivating at times.

Around the room, the various shelves of tomes, of differing states of use, rose from floor to ceiling and there were two tables set about in the room over top persian blue rugs of fine craftsmanship. In pride of place and with a spotlight illuminating rest the image of a young Anna Edwards. Commissioned by his own hands, Jerrik had painstakingly communicated every aspect of her with his very strokes. He often had to scold her to remain still as the woman desired to tease him too much during the painting. He didn't mind the interruptions, but the paint certainly did. However, he was greatly pleased with the end result and sufficiently ravaged her as both punishment and reward for her mischief during.

Silently, he slipped through the open door behind Amy as she gawked, bewildered at the portrait and then her attention drew towards the book. Her journal, he remembered, had been left on a page of a particularly flattering account of himself and his various talents for extracting delight from the young woman. The delicious flood of color to his face was enough to make Jerrik's mouth water. Too long had he gone without a fresh meal, opting instead to have blood bags delivered to him via a secret service which existed solely to collect blood to donate to vampires who had the means to pay for it. He wondered to himself how she might taste, how she might groan as his fangs sunk within her porcelain flesh, and how she may swoon from the lightheadedness of the affair and the force of his presence.
It seemed that the intruder had come to an epiphany and his suspicions as to her appearance were confirmed as she proclaimed herself familiar with the handwriting. Jerrik had allowed her to go on long enough, however and he began to slowly approach from behind.

His footfalls were as soft as a mouse, but his cloak was loose and heavy. As he spread his arms from beneath and reached towards her, a telltale rustle would alert her just a split second before his strong fingers closed around her shoulders and firmly held. It would be very nearly painful for her as Jerrik craned his head down, mouth scandalously close to her ear. She felt no heat from his fingers, nor from his breath as he spoke, though she felt the wind at her ear, "And who are you who enters my home without permission and rummages my personal effects at her own discretion?" Even though he spoke quietly, the deep rumble of his bass tone resonated to great effect. His accent was ancient, reminiscent of a long dead form of English combined with older dialects of Swedish.

His will was strong as he withheld his urge to drink from her then and there; his jaw reflexively tightened with the desire, however. He drew a long, slow breath through his nose as he pulled Amy's essence within, if only to savor it as he straightened behind her to his imposing stature. His hold on her was sure, neither gentle nor aggressive as he rolled his neck slowly to ease the building tension in him. His assertion that the home belonged to him and the effects as well seemed to be deeper than merely an ownership of possessions. His sentimentality almost broke through at the statement, his tone bordering on nostalgia.

Were she to gaze upon him, she would find he was well-groomed and his face was devoid of anything which would give away most of his thoughts or feelings. Lips were pulled in a taut line, the tips of his fangs pressed slightly against the lower. His neat brow was fixed with a slight angle of inquisitiveness, though nothing more. His eyes were as ice, silvery blue and crystalline with a depth unimaginable to a human, as their lives cut short too quickly to build the experiences he'd accumulated. His jaw was accentuated by a full beard, groomed and waxed with precise care which framed his face handsomely and his golden locks were pulled into the warrior's knot of which he'd been so fond of in his life. As a vampire, his hair grew much more slowly than when he'd been living and so he was able to maintain an image much easier than others.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

She was aware of him a split second too late. Amy's reflexes weren't great on the best of days, and even if she had sensed the man in time he probably still would have been able to catch her with minimal effort. He only touched her on the shoulders, hardly anything unreasonable considering she was technically trespassing, but his grip was stronger than anything the young woman had ever felt. Her body began to tremble sharply under his hands, but after taking a few deep breaths and swallowing hard, the scholar did her best to steel her nerve.

At least the man spoke English, albeit with a strange accent that didn't seem exactly Swedish to Amy's untrained ears. Hopefully communication wouldn't be an issue as she tried to explain herself. "I'm very sorry for barging in like this," she said slowly, trying to force her shoulders to relax and failing miserably. "I did knock, and I made a bunch of noise when I came in. I wasn't trying to be sneaky, I was just trying to get out of the rain and find someone to speak to." Despite her best efforts, the words that should have been strong and even a little self-righteous came off as weak and submissive, especially when compared with that deep, rich tone of his that seemed to resonate all throughout the young woman's body, particularly in the pit of her stomach.

Although his voice seemed warm, it contrasted sharply with the feel of his hands, and even the breath that brushed against Amy's ear, making her shiver again. Summoning the remainder of her courage, she turned her head to look her host in the face, gasping softly as she did so. Amy had never seen a man as pale as this one, and the golden color of his thick hair only seemed to bring out the silvery tones in his skin and make his eyes look an almost unnatural shade of blue. She might have guessed he was about ten years older than her, without a streak of gray in his flawlessly groomed beard, and no doubt if she'd encountered him on the street or in a bar, the student might have even found him extremely attractive. At this close range though, in an isolated house with his vicelike grip on her shoulders, he reminded her more of a predator than anything else, and all she wanted was to escape him unarmed.

"My name is Amy," she said slowly, hoping there was nothing defiant in her voice or eyes that might set him off. "Amy Erickson. I'm an Edwards Fellow, working at the Andreas Ljung House for the summer. I...I'm a really big fan of Anna Edwards." Raising one hand, she pointed back towards the portrait on the wall. "I guess you are too, huh? I had heard the person who lived in this house had some of her papers, but I never knew about her journal."

The subject of the authoress seemed to relax the student somewhat, and she turned her gaze back towards the book. "It's real, isn't it?" Amy's tone was hardly questioning, and a little thread of determination had crept back into it. "Can I ask, how in the world did you get such a thing? The Red House Foundation would offer a fortune for...oh. Oh." Her eyes had fallen again on the line describing the mysterious "Jerrik." Golden hair, blue eyes...yep, that was a pretty accurate description of the man beside her. A descendant, no doubt, of Anna Edwards' mysterious lover, and considering the lewdness of the pages she could understand why he might be hesitant to share such a thing with the public. Some of the things his ancestor had done would be absolutely scandalous even by modern society, let alone that of previous generations.

"You know, I really came here to speak to you," Amy continued, rolling her shoulders slightly in the hopes he would release her. "Again, I'm really sorry about coming uninvited, but I'd love to know what ties your family has to Anna Edwards. Is there anything I can do that would make you agree to an interview?" She thought for a moment of the money in her wallet; she only had maybe twenty or thirty euro, plus fifty American dollars just in case. A pretty paltry bribe, but then again if the guy lived at an estate like this, he couldn't have been short on money, so maybe that didn't even matter. Maybe she could offer to do some work around the place for him? As far as she could tell there wasn't anyone else around, and the estate was so big it was probably a huge hassle for him to take care of it all on his own.

"What's your name, by the way?" she asked, not wanting to seem even more rude as she wracked her brain trying to think of anything else to offer him, or at the very least figure out a way to escape the place without ending up on the wrong end of a murder weapon.

 

[Vekraihr]

Instantly, Jerrik was all too aware of the delicious fear which overtook her and led to her trembling beneath his grasp as he spoke to her. The way the heart rate spiked, the blood pressure rising, it made his thoughts of drinking from her all the more alluring. It took her several breaths and an audible gulp before she spoke up again. Her explanation, among other things, had earned her Jerrik's full attention as he listened to her. Unusually still was he, as if he didn’t need to breathe. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest at her feeble attempt to persuade him and his eyes sharpened on her, “And I didn’t answer, yet you crossed my threshold. I understand the weather is inclement, but I am not the one who was unprepared for it.” He nearly sounded as though he was teasing her, wanting to extract every bit of torment he could from this young woman.

She looked at him, appearing to be rapt, and his eyes trained on hers. Slowly, his gaze seemed to soften as he looked into that familiar color. His grip eased on her shoulders, though only enough to take away the discomfort and his eyes scanned her face thoroughly. Then, very briefly, his eyes snapped up to the painting before finding her face again and he looked upon her, seeming briefly vexed. Her white hair was cut shorter and she’d little metal hoops in her eyebrow, and her clothing didn’t compliment her figure well at all but there was no denying the similarities. She continued, introducing herself to him and his eyes sparked with recognition at her mention of Edward’s name, as well as the Andreas Ljung house. Often, scholars would find him and claim to be from the same, much to the frustration of the lord. “Anna holds a special place within my heart...Yes,” his voice held a quiet passion when he spoke her name and he looked at the journal.

“Indeed...She kept that journal while she was here and left it as a memento as she couldn’t deny her calling in life for her passions,” his tone became more solemn and reserved at this and his eyes steeled over once more. Once again, his nostrils pulled in as he called in the essence of the young woman. His mouth was watering and he felt a familiar, yearning pain searing through his withered stomach. She looked so much like Anna that his mind briefly considered the possibility that he was going insane. Certainly, she was drawing connections as well as she kept referencing the journal and looking at him with surety apparent in her posturing.

She continued, saying she was there to speak with him and asking again about the woman who had briefly ignited the vampire to acts which he’d not committed since. “An interview…?” his voice was more reserved now than before and his hands trembled softly against her shoulders. Had something she’d said struck a nerve? No, the monstrous man struggled to subdue his hunger, even as she offered anything for the opportunity to interview him. It was all driving him mad, his head swimming as he tried to both quell his appetite and remain composed for this young woman so as not to send her screaming to the authorities.

‘What’s your name, by the way?’ her question was very much the same as Anna’s when he’d discovered her in his home so long ago. Jerrik bellowed with tacit frustration, palpable and tense as he spun Amy on her feet quickly. She might have fallen if not for his powerful grip on her, which tightened as he pushed her towards a nearby bookcase and pinned her back against the sturdy wooden frame. “I...Am...Lord Jerrik Ulbrecht the First. And, for information, I require a drink…” his response was much the same as it had been before, though he was more reserved with Anna.

Before Amy could have the opportunity to contemplate what he’d meant as his hungry, unnaturally blue eyes honed onto her neck. Quickly, he’d pitched his head aside her neck, and his mouth opened before closing directly onto her jugular vein. Two small piercing sensations preceded a vibration of delight rumbling against her flesh as her warm, vital fluids spilled into his waiting mouth. Despite his hurry to drink, he seemed to do so slowly and with great relish, his tongue seeming to dance against her skin in a way that was more sensual and provocative than one might have expected from such a sudden, violent act. He was suckling from her, though not quite hard enough to leave anything other than the two small pricks as a reminder. Every other second was punctuated by the sound of Jerrik gulping down the collected blood with satisfied, low moans. Counter to his desires, he parted from her before too long with great hesitation. His tongue, with one final, nearly lascivious stroke, scooped the remnants which trickled from the small wounds he’d left in her.

As he pulled away, he looked renewed and refreshed, his skin slightly fuller and his eyes brighter than they’d been previously. His hands were still holding her by the shoulders, though the way he held her seemed supportive rather than oppressive. Jerrik cleared his throat and slowly looked at her with what appeared to be satisfaction swimming in his eyes. It was strange, how she hadn’t noticed it before but, when he smiled at her there was no mistaking those gleaming, sharp canines which extended further than the other teeth of his. “Mmmm...That was worthy of my information,” as he spoke, he guided her towards one of the chairs at the table. She would certainly need to sit down after that. Despite his restraint, he knew she’d feel rather drained. As he sat her down, he took a seat near to her and his eyes swept over her, full of intent, before settling onto those warm chocolate hues. “Ask of me whatever it is you desire,” his words seemed to hint that more than just information was available to the curious student.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Lord Jerrik Ulbrecht...the First? Did that mean he had kids then? Amy hadn't seen any sign of them around, and he certainly didn't look old enough to have children that were past the "loud" stage (she'd babysat enough times growing up to determine that was from ages zero to about thirteen). Then again, if there were kids nearby, the place was certainly big enough to keep them away without causing too much trouble, but such isolation couldn't have been good for them. Or her, for that matter.

That same unsettling air was beginning to weigh on her again, and she stiffened as she felt Jerrik's hands (Jerrik again...a family name? she thought) tightening on her shoulders. Amy wanted to break free and run for the door, but it felt as though her entire body had turned to stone. "A drink?" she repeated softly, hoping he just meant splitting a bottle of aquavit but sensing something much more dangerous in play. "I'm uh...only twenty. That means I can't drink yet. In the U.S., I mean--that's where I'm from." Not that her age had ever stopped her before, but it didn't seem prudent to bring that up at the moment.

But no, he hadn't meant a drink for her. With a soft cry, Amy felt her head jerked to the side, and a moment later his mouth was on her neck. "No! Stop it, let go!" But the protests were all in her voice, not in her body. She'd expected his hands to drop lower and grope roughly at her breasts or ass, but they remained exactly where they were, holding her in a position that would keep her neck exposed. Then came the two pricks in her flesh, sharp but brief, and then the unmistakable sensation of sucking.

No way... the student thought to herself, squirming a little in his grasp before her strength began to fade. No goddamn way. This freak thinks he's a vampire!

With every passing moment, Amy was sure she was about to become the subject of a Lifetime movie warning about the dangerous of a woman traveling alone abroad. "She took shelter in the wrong house, where a backwoods maniac killed her by ripping out her throat with his teeth," the narrator would say. And yet, the pain was rapidly fading, and while the young woman knew she must have been losing a fair amount of blood, a bizarre sense of pleasure was beginning to fill her as well. She couldn't help but moan herself as she felt Jerrik's tongue caressing one particularly sensitive spot on her neck, and it was with more than a little horror she realized a familiar tingling was beginning to grow between her legs.

Then, as quickly as he had started, he finished. Amy's head was spinning and she could feel her knees threatening to give way, but his strong hands still held her on her feet. Reaching up carefully, the student brushed her fingers against the spot where he'd bitten her, and to her utter shock they came back totally clean, although the wound was still tender and sent a little shock of mixed pain and pleasure through her, threatening to send her collapsing to the ground. She could hardly fight back against him now, and let him guide her easily to a tall chair, where she finally looked directly into his face.

Compared to her first glance of him, he looked almost human now. His coloring was much better, and his eyes had lost that predator-like hunger, making him look almost human. Almost. But those teeth as he smiled at her...those weren't human teeth. No wonder he'd left such tiny wounds with fangs that sharp. Why did he leave me alive? Amy wondered. Surely he must have known she would go to the police about this? Anna or no Anna, she couldn't possibly leave a madman who thought he was a legendary monster to prowl the countryside.

Unless...no. No way. It was impossible. There was no such thing as vampires. There couldn't be.

But Amy's gaze was doubtful as she stared into those ice blue eyes of his. She decided if he wanted a question, there was only one she could ask at the moment.

"What the fuck was that about?" she gasped, fingers brushing the bit again. Reflexively she had to press her legs together, and if she'd had enough blood left inside her she might have blushed at the sensation, but at the moment she was too bewildered to do anything but watch him.

 

[Vekraihr]

Pleasured noises escaped from her which merely encouraged the fiend to continue a bit longer than he might have other wise. Though, all the same, he left her conscious instead of draining her past the point of darkness as he, too, had curiosities to satisfty. She inspected herself and saw no evidence of his harm, though she certainly felt it by the way her body nearly went limp in his grasp. As she looked at his renewed and emboldened self, he saw the questions swimming around in her mind. Part of him should have been concerned, but he was far too thrilled at the prospect of bending her to his iron will.

It seemed realization was starting to set in on her behalf, and he gave a low, soft chuckle at the look of bewilderment on her face. "Difficult to believe, is it not?" he asked simply, leaving his statement as vague as possible to further unravel her mind and keep her on the back foot. Though, he needn't play any mind games for that. He was capable of doing so through more forceful methods, but where was the fun in that? Jerrik enjoyed the thrill of cornering his prey, having become a consummate hunter after his transformation. Before, he'd lived a simple life, doing simple things but the man underwent more transformations than one on the day he was turned.

As he watched her response towards him, he couldn't keep his mind away from Anna. Much like her, his previous confidant had taken an unusual delight in his feedings as well. Such was the nature of those who enjoyed her work, he thought. How curious a mind must be in order to seek out what could likely be certain death in search of potential pleasure or fulfillment. Their demeanors were different, however. Quite a stark contrast from each other. Amy was more brash and wise as opposed to Anna's nearly carefree naivete, though both girls seemed to be stern at the outset. Both had resisted him at first and the first hadn't succeeded at keeping him away for long. He had high hopes for the second as he thought of all the mischief he could get into with her.

Jerrik couldn't help but be amused by the defensive nature of the woman in front of him, a grin tugging the corner of his lips. Training his eyes slowly, as though taking stock of her form beneath her clothing, he stopped at her waist and took note of her pressed together legs. He took a brief moment to revel in the excitement she was trying to desperately to hide before bringing his eyes back up to meet hers. "You remind me so much of her...She was confused too, at first. But she came to understand what I am, and we came to understand each other...Intimately, as you no doubt read," he began, the memories still fresh within his ageless mind as he reached across the table and appreciatively ran his fingers upwards against the wound he'd left on her.

"You are hiding your true feelings...Defensiveness in the face of misunderstanding and realization. You enjoyed what I did to you, did you not? I heard your sweet voice..." his tone was provocative and smooth as his fingers traced the shape of her jawline and his thumb caressed the crest of her throat. "You said you are an Edwards Fellow? A scholar, no doubt? I have countless literary treasures...All of it can be yours, for a price," again, the mention of price as his grin grew further, exposing the gleaming whites of his. Whatever he was, he seemed keen on making a deal as he stood rapidly from his seat and, with inhuman speed, was behind hers as his hands snaked along her shoulders. This time, he sought further purchase along her figure, deliciously outlining the shape of her breasts in his fingers as he brought his head towards her neck and brushed his lips against that tender mark.

"Many things I can offer you...Hidden secrets and forgotten lore...All you need do...Is just one thing," he spoke quietly in her ear with confidence and his hands grabbed firmly onto the globes beneath her hooded sweatshirt. Women were so soft and warm, antithetical to his cold and hardened exterior and he craved that warmth for himself. He'd forgotten since that time shared with Anna but he was quickly remembering what excited him most about human women. For all of the bounty he'd collected over the years, only one had captivated him enough for him to be willing to relinquish it. And Amy was her spitting image, the flesh incarnation of a romance long past and his mind was lucid with the memories. Her reactions to his touch only encouraged him further, a growing need building within his lower stomach; yet another feeling he'd forgotten.

Jerrik growled heatedly as he continued his exploration of her body, one hand fondling and massaging her breast as the other trailed down her midline. His fingers encircled her navel as they passed and lingered momentarily before serpentining their way in a wave-like pattern down her waistline. As if the right had already been granted, Jerrik's strong fingers pressured her mound through the fabrics she wore and pressed the middle against the very top of her slit, taunting the button-like cluster of nerves therein. "For me to grant you the world...All you need do is submit!" his words were more forceful this time around, his mouth still hovering the near the sensitized part of her neck. He gave her a soft bite, not enough to sink his fangs in again, as if punctuating his desire.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Difficult to believe, is it not?"

It was neither a denial nor an affirmation, and Amy had no idea what to make of it. Jerrik might not have believed himself to be an actual vampire, but it was pretty clear to her at this point that at the very least, he was unable to keep those creepily sharp teeth to himself. And yet...aside from scaring her, what harm had he really done? True she felt a little lightheaded, but the student was sure in a few more minutes she'd be fine. Probably. And there was no denying the weird, arousing effect he had on her. Maybe I'm more of a masochist than I thought she mused, distantly noting that this wasn't exactly the appropriate time to be exploring her sexual tendencies.

Now he was speaking of their similarities. Whose? The student's dark brows knit together as her gaze shifted to the portrait on the wall. "You can't mean...Anna?" Amy whispered, swallowing a little as the sensual portrait seemed to take on a new air, given the circumstances. "We kind of look alike I guess but--wait. Are you saying you knew her?" Shit, he really was bonkers. Maybe his name wasn't even really Jerrik. Maybe he'd just gotten his hands on Edwards' journal and cooked up this entire fantasy for himself, pretending to be her immortal lover while scaring the shit out of unsuspecting American girls who had the misfortune to stumble into his lair.

And yet...what if it was true?

Amy's thoughts were beginning to race, and the tender little touch against the wound wasn't helping matters. She knew vampires weren't real, but the more she looked at Jerrik, the more she would have been willing to guess that if they were, he definitely was one. So what if she assumed he really was one of the creatures of the night? According to folklore they could live forever, and it would make sense how he could have gotten a hold of Anna's journal if it came straight from the source. It would also be reasonable to assume he'd lived when she did, and if he really did know her...oh, the possibilities.

One thing was for certain: the journal really was real. The portrait was undoubtedly of Edwards. If Amy wanted to write about either of them, she would have to make nice with their owner, regardless of his delusions. And if she could successfully pull it off, wouldn't that make a story for the Foundation?

The young woman swallowed hard as Jerrik's hand began to slip ever so delicately down her throat. Fuck, it seemed like he could have snapped her neck like a twig. Why did that send such a pleasant shiver down her back? "You...you won't hurt me?" she gasped finally, arching her back a little as she tried to lean away from him. It was no use; in the blink of an eye he was behind her, and Amy could feel his fingers closing on her heaving breasts, overfilling his hands. A noise between a whimper and a moan escaped her lips, the coolness of his hands penetrating through her hoodie, t-shirt, and bra to the point it felt like he was touching her skin directly.

So this was what he wanted. Well, it was better than being killed. Besides, it wasn't like Amy was a virgin. She'd had her share of quick, emotionless tumbles in dorm rooms and the back seats of cars, and most of those guys hadn't been half as good-looking as Jerrik. It hadn't felt nearly as wonderful when they'd groped her either. She took a few more deep breaths and fixed her gaze on the bookshelf on the far side of the room in an attempt to ground herself. He has first-hand accounts. If you have to fuck him to get a look at them, just do it. How bad can it be? she tried to assure herself, but it felt like she was creeping up on the edge of a bottomless pool of water, and trying to tell herself it was no deeper than a bathtub.

"If you want to hook up, we...we can do that," Amy stammered, gripping the arms of the chair in an attempt to stand up. No dice; one hand still firmly gripped her breast while the other held her waist, keeping her locked in her current position. "I've even got condoms in my backpack. If you'll just let me up to go get them--" Her words were cut off by a soft cry as she felt his teeth pressing against her neck again, making her squirm in her chair. Embarrassingly enough, she could feel her arousal had soaked through her jeans and was threatening to dampen the cushion beneath her, and her toes were rhythmically curling and uncurling in her sneakers.

"Please, I'll submit!" the student whined, trying to keep her head still and avoid puncturing her skin on the waiting fangs. "I'll do whatever you want. Just let me look at the journal when you're done, okay? I really, really want to read more of it." It seemed a more reasonable request than pleading for her life at this point, and besides if he thought she was into some of the events described on the open pages (and to be fair, underneath all of her fear she really was interested), he'd probably be more open to showing the book off. Hopefully whenever he was done playing with her he would turn his attention to the glass case beneath the portrait, and that would be her chance to make a break for it.

It never occurred to Amy that if Jerrik really was a vampire, she would never stand a chance.

 

[Vekraihr]

Amy seemed to go back and forth with her summation on how much of a threat he was or wasn’t to her and Jerrik watched as the conflict continued to roil just beneath her surface. He almost felt bad for being at least partially responsible for the conflict, but he couldn’t help the nature of what he was. He had it thrust upon him without asking and, as it stands, had developed significant improvements in his life since. Her eyes left his as he brought up Anna and, as she looked at the portrait, her throat briefly bulged with her gesture. “I do mean Anna, Fröken Erickson. And, I did know her...Quite intimately, as you might have read. I saw the color turn in your cheeks,” his speech was as provoking as he could make it sound, each trailing ‘r’ sound terminating in a low growl in his voice.

Jerrik watched her throat again as she swallowed, the gesture enticing him for a further feeding despite his hunger being sated. However, he ignored this foolish whim to continue to more pressing matters. He had remained in control of his strength, ensuring not to press so hard on her that he hurt her but with enough force to display what he had at his disposal. She questioned him as he slipped behind her and began his lavish assault on her, his mouth pulled into a delighted grin. “And why do you think I would hurt you? Is it because society tells you I will or has something I’ve done elicited the thought?” he whispered to her with that seductive tone of his, eyes slowly closing as he allowed his other senses to guide his motions. Feeling the overflowing amount of flesh in his hand, he nimbly trailed his fingers to discover the sensitive nub beneath the fabric and secured it with a squeeze before resuming his caress with the other parts of his hand.

Slowly his eyes opened, lids hooded with lust as he continued his depraved escapade of her voluptuous form. She offered him condoms, though he hadn’t any interest. Besides being sterile, another perk of being a vampire meant he was immune to disease as well, so neither she nor he had any risks associated thereof. Not that she would have been knowledgable of that. Jerrik merely chuckled at the thought, feeling the soaked exterior of the jeans and how she was nearly soaking the cushion beneath her. With a scooping motion that began at her inseam with two fingers and stroke upwards overtop her womanhood, allowing his fingers to collect the evidence of her extreme arousal. “You feign that you are coyly interested, merely because I am...And yet…” he lifted his fingers in front of her face as he spoke, spreading them apart to show her the strands of nectar he’d gathered. He gave her nipple a squeeze, urging her to cry out so he could plunge the two soaked fingers into her waiting mouth, forcing her to taste of herself as he bit a little more firmly onto her neck.

Almost pierced, his teeth ached with the want to further drink from her though he continued to hold off. She wouldn’t be of any fun unconscious--though he could still utilize her if he so chose. His fingers plunged back and forth in her mouth and, despite his nails appearing sharp and hard, she never felt him cut or otherwise gouge the insides of her mouth. Instead, his fingers danced around her tongue in what could best be described as a mischievously taunting manner. Satisfied that his fingers had been thoroughly cleaned, he pulled them from her mouth and plunged his arm down her body once again. With lightning celerity, he’d undone her jeans and plunged his hand within her clothing to more directly stimulate the student’s pleasure centers. His index and ring finger pressured her mons, coaxing her to open as his middle slipped within her and buried to its depth. Familiarity caused his finger to curl upwards, pressed firmly against the root of nerves which laid therein as his palm pressed and gyrated slowly against the pinnacle of her slit. Back and forth his finger slid with ease thanks to her bountiful lubrication, Jerrik taking his time to fully prepare her for what was to come.

His slacks had tightened uncomfortably by this point, strained against the rise of his arousal as his desired a warmer, more humid place. His rhythmic motion inside of her suddenly ceased as his hand withdrew with urgency before his arm wrapped ‘round her hip and he lifted her without so much as a strained grunt. She felt light as a feather to him, and it would be noticeable with the ease with which he handled her. He kicked the chair which she had just been sitting in moments prior and it flew to a skid against one of the shelves with a raucous clattering. He threw her onto the table with her waist hanging just at the edge and, while forcefully done, his hand had quickly ensured her neck would not snap to and fro nor would her head slam upon the wood with any damaging force. With her pants already undone, it was merely a matter of peeling the clothing away from her so he might appreciate her more fully. He didn’t waste any time, she felt the speed with which his hands tore the fabric from her skin (though not literally, in this case at least.) Her jeans and panties wrapped around her ankles, Jerrik took to undoing his own with the telltale ‘zrrrr’ of a zipper being rapidly undone.

Suddenly, Amy felt a thick ‘slap’ against her wonderfully round rear as Jerrik unsheathed his manhood in preparation to claim her. At this, she might be able to tell his thickness at a few inches but his length was as of yet determined, though there were a few pressed in that direction as well. At odds with the rest of his flesh, his manhood seemed pleasantly warm and pulsed with rhythm, not unlike a heartbeat. The vampire assured her legs spread enough with one hand as the other guided his tip along the seam between her cheeks and towards the glistening folds which invited him so sweetly. She could feel him dragging along before he finally hitched in her entrance, his head pressing in as he poised to irrevocably claim her.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Amy had to bite her lower lip to keep it from trembling. His hands moved with the surety not only of a man who knew the attractiveness of his appearance, but with the experience of one who had done this many, many times before.

And he'd done this with Anna Edwards? the student wondered. Well, in the authoress' debut novel, there had been a rather salacious scene between the heroine and the mysterious prince in his isolated castle, but Amy had always assumed Edwards had dreamed the encounter up in her imagination, rather than having lived through such a tryst herself. Interestingly enough, while the scene in the book was undoubtedly arousing, the American had never really found it scary in the traditional sense. It was more intimidating than anything else, the idea that a man like Prince Kristian could exert such control over a girl like young Alice Ellesmere that she would be willing to risk her very life for a mere moment of pleasure at his touch.

Well, Kristian had never really hurt Alice in the book. Not enough to drive her away at least. Of course, Prince Kristian never claimed to be a bloodsucking monster. "You're...you're a vampire," Amy said finally, deciding now was not the time to express any doubt about his claims. "Vampires kill people, don't they?" The last word came out in a yelp as she felt his hand pressing between her legs. Like a sprung trap her thighs instantly slammed shut around his wrist, and while the student told herself it was her body reacting by trying to shut him out, she couldn't help but feel like perhaps she was trying to hold him in. Her hips already raised a little in offering, and the thick fabric of her pants was already so soaked she could feel his individual fingers teasing against her swollen lips.

"Please..." she whispered, although it was unclear if she wanted him to stop or continue. Either way, he had no trouble pulling his hand free, and Amy's face turned scarlet when she could see the evidence of her own arousal on his fingers. She had to shut her eyes to avoid the sight of it, but if she hadn't she might have at least seen the blur seizing towards her nipple. The zipper of her hoodie was pushed down enough now that he had no trouble seizing onto the hardened nub beneath the cotton, and the sensation was so intense she could help but let out another cry as her hips jerked again.

A moment later, she could taste something thick and salty-sweet in her mouth, and she realized in a mix of horror and curiosity that it was the taste of her own juices on Jerrik's icy fingers. Like a charmed snake her tongue wrestled with the two long digits, never quite able to catch them or force them out. Even her teeth proved useless in the fight, and she only managed to graze the inside of her cheek, tasting a hint of blood on her lips as the vampire finally withdrew his fingers.

Amy's eyes opened when her mouth did, and they stared at Jerrik with a stormy mix of fear, arousal, and even a little challenge as he pulled his hand back. This latter light quickly died though as she felt the button ripped clean off her jeans and sent flying across the room, the zipper almost broken off in her captor's attempt to force past it. Then she felt his fingers inside her, bitter cold and easily slipping past her black silk panties until they were stretching her almost painfully wide. Her feet began to kick and drag helplessly against the floor as her hips tried to raise, tipping the chair backwards until the vampire's iron-hard grip was the only thing keeping her from clattering to the floor. She could feel that long-nailed middle finger teasing and tickling that most sensitive part of her, almost bringing her to her peak before withdrawing at the last, cruelest moment.

"Fuck...!" was all she could gasp, and the young woman went so far as to actually glare at the vampire in her frustration, barely caring anymore that he was a stranger and probably psychotic. She'd never felt this horny before. With every passing moment the risks seemed diminished in her mind, and if she could think of anything at all besides the prospect of getting off, it was the idea that at least when they were done Jerrik would at least let her go, if not let her get a closer look at the journal. That was a win-win, right?

It was clear Jerrik's own patience was beginning to run thin, judging by the size of the bulge in his trousers. Amy had expected he would just push the chair back and do her right there, and she squealed in surprise as she suddenly realized she was being lifted. That was no easy feat for the average guy, considering her height and curves, but the vampire didn't seem to have any trouble with her. Reflexively, the young woman's arms wrapped around his neck, and before she realized what she was doing she had pressed her face against his chest, inhaling the surprisingly pleasant scent of his shirt--or was that just his natural smell?

She didn't have much time to think on it. He had lain her against something hard--the desk? she thought absentmindedly--and was making short work of removing her pants and underwear. Amy winced a little at the discomfort of having her large breasts squashed against the wood, but that was nothing compared to the smack on her ass that made her shriek and grip the edge of the desk more tightly. And yet...she didn't try to escape. In fact, if a neutral party were in the room witnessing the interaction, they might have even noted that her firm round rear began to wag even more invitingly after that first blow. Thankfully, it didn't seem like she would need to wait long for that next bit of contact.

Amy groaned as she felt his manhood probing between her cheeks. For a little while there, she had thought fucking him would be like shoving an icicle up her snatch, but she was pleasantly surprised to feel he was warm there. Hot, even. He felt larger than any other man she'd had previously, but she was so wet and hungry for him that she doubted he'd have any trouble entering her. And even if he did met some resistance, the student doubted that would stop him. She didn't even want him to at this point.

"Please," she repeated again, her voice barely a whisper as it blew across the dark polished surface of the desk. The wood was shiny enough that she could almost see her reflection in it, and although Amy was humiliated at the desperate, unarguably slutty expression on her face, she couldn't help but spread her legs wider for him.

 

[Vekraihr]

Jerrik enjoyed the way Amy was soft and pliable beneath his grasp, as did any who truly appreciated the full voluptuous beauty which was the female form. Amy was beautiful, in his eyes, both as a reminder of his Anna and as the warm-blooded enchantress present before him now. There was almost a brief pause when she spoke the truth of his nature and a low, pleased laugh rumbled from him. “Yes...I am..Astute observation, Amy...And, to answer your question...Some do...Others, like me, tend to get our blood from paid volunteers,” his voice was a combination of heavy and informative as he replied to her, speaking while her mouth was filled with his fingers.

Every moment that passed, with every forceful touch and each test of a boundary, he was almost surprised at how little resistance she put up. Defiance, on the other hand, was in abundant supply and fuck did that turn him on. As he tore into her clothing, spreading his touches over her, he couldn’t help but growl in satisfaction as he felt her hips lifting for more gratification. She wouldn’t have to wait long for it, he was already impatient as it was and her rapturous behavior was all it took for him to reach his boiling point.

As he lifted her into the air, he found unexpected pleasantness in the way she’d clutched onto him and drew her face into his chest. Her nostrils would be greeted by a pleasant combination of cedar, various aromatic herbs, and a note of blackcurrant and bergamot, with an underlying, aquatic musk; all in all, creating a subtle but powerful scent. Jerrik couldn’t help but notice the way she wiggled enticingly at him after he’d slapped his throbbing head against her. Her arousal was so that he was confident he wouldn’t have to take it too terribly easy on her, evident from the warm moisture that further seduced the vampire lord.

Her final ask was punctuated by the feeling of her suddenly and utterly filled with him as he grabbed her hips and slammed his own forward with a ‘clap’ which echoed down the halls, followed by a deep, pleasured groan from him. Either no one was home or he didn’t care who would hear. “Amy…” his low voice drew her name out appetizingly as if he were savoring the sound on his lips. Fully hilted, he’d pulse inside of her with that same incessant rhythm that she’d felt before and he wasted no time in withdrawing back to where the peak of his crown poised at her entrance before claiming her depths again. Each thrust saw him build a rhythm as his hips began to dip and gyrate, seeking out each spot within her which would elicit the loudest cries in order to target them with his throbbing cock. He’d groan and growl in ecstasy every few cycles, very apparently enjoying her as much as she had him just a moment previously.

After a moment, his hands had left her hips and begun to roam her, one trailing across to her spine and tracing up along with his clawed fingertips with just enough pressure to really instill how dreadful sharp they were. His other hand wrapped around her front, diving beneath her shirt and bra so he could more directly show his appreciation for those large globes of hers. His strong, dexterous grasp kneaded her flesh in pleasing, sometimes nearly wave-like fashions as his hips struck her ass with increasingly louder ‘slaps’ echoing around them.

The fingers which had traced her spine led to her neck and Jerrik shuddered at the feel of it beneath his grasp, his pale blue hues locked on her with a passionate fire burning within them. He wove his fingers up through her hair, ensuring plenty within his grasp as he wrapped the large bundle of strands around his hand and slowly pulled her upwards towards him. He’d nearly her entire head of hair in his grasp, ensuring the pressure was more evenly distributed in the hopes it wouldn’t cause her too much distress. He’d remembered being chided more than once for pulling too eagerly on too little. His arm at her chest helped to alleviate some of her weight from her head though as he pulled her back until her shoulders were flush against his chest and she was in a standing position. His angle was deliciously steep inside of her, the underside of his shaft grinding against that sensitive spot he’d paid so much attention to earlier.

Her hair, as out of the way as it was, gave him perfect access to her appealing neck and she felt his beard tickle at her nape as he brought his head down to tantalize her again. His lips brushed her skin as his breath came in deep, strong puffs while again he began to nibble on her, his tongue swishing patterns along her skin as he slowly ascended. His eyes never shut, rather looking for any opportunity to drink her in further as he kept a firm but eased hold on that bundle of locks in his grasp. He breathed her in, mouth beginning to water again as he craved another bite. She’d enjoyed it so much previously, why wouldn’t she now? His thrusts were powerful and swift, however, controlled, and the rhythm she felt pressuring her slickened walls had slowly increased in tempo as he rose closer and closer to a peak. As he layered pleasure upon pleasure, Jerrik bared his fangs once again and gave a luxuriously thick groan of pleasure as his sharp teeth slipped through her skin again. He’d hit the vein less directly this time, seeking less from her as her flesh vibrated from his euphoric noises. Delectable as she was, he still didn’t want her losing consciousness on him for he fully intended for her to enjoy this as much as he had.

His twitching within her had grown more obvious, telling of another need that had yet to be fulfilled and grew rapidly from their lascivious act. His hand had finally released her hair, rather coiling around her abdomen like a snake and further reinforcing their closeness as he drove into her as a man possessed with heated lust. He was nearly mechanical in his smoothness, though he continued to subtly manipulate his angle so that every other plunge was unique in its path. His fingers rest at her hips and gripped firmly, his other hand continuing to work the breast beneath and subtly provoked her nipple It wasn’t apparent if he needed to breathe or he was merely making it obvious how much he enjoyed her. It was indisputable, however, the end to which he was approaching and seemed as if he’d no interest in withdrawing from her in order to do so.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

There was something in Jerrik's voice when he said her name that almost made Amy lose control right then and there. Most of the guys she'd been with had been more of the "grunt and jackhammer for two minutes then pull out and ask if she finished" type, without ever saying a goddamn thing to her before putting their pants back on and heading for the door. And those that did feel the need to talk tended to just quote whatever they'd heard in porn in such a halting, falsely-aggressive manner that Amy usually ended up killing the mood entirely with her amused giggling. Maybe it was just Jerrik's accent that made her inner walls quiver around him, or maybe it was the hungry dominance and desire in his tone, but the student found herself wishing he would say her name again, practically feeling his voice running like a warm finger across her spine.

Maybe his voice wouldn't have been so enticing if his hips weren't taking their sweet time in their movements. Amy couldn't help but moaning in longing each time he pushed a little farther into her, his rhythm leisurely and uncertain so she never knew when to expect the delightful friction and pressure that made her twitch with each push forward. He was a tight fit, not painful exactly, but that was probably because she was so ready for him. If Jerrik really had intended to rape her in the worst sense of the word, without caring for her own needs and condition, the American had no doubt he could have done some serious damage to her. Strangely enough though, he seemed as keen giving her pleasure as taking it, although he definitely wasn't in a hurry to finish her off any time soon.

He still hadn't even bothered to strip the rest of her clothes off, although for all Amy knew he didn't plan to. Still, she felt a little self conscious as her shirt began to ride upward over her back, and she wondered for a moment what he would make of the stark black branches of the birch tree she'd had tattooed there a few years earlier, the only color on it two small red birds nestled together in the top branches. Would he recognize it as a reference to Anna's book? If not, once he'd removed her hoodie and could see the lines of script on the student's left forearm, so similar to the writing in the journal across the room, that would surely have to resonate with him. As Amy felt his hand closing on her breast (well, attempting to close; even with his large hands she still easily overflowed his grasp), she couldn't help but wonder if Anna had ever spoken the tattooed words to Jerrik, or if he'd spoken them to her.

𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉

She didn't have much time to think on it though, considering she felt her head tugged gently but firmly backward, and suddenly all she could see was the cold blue infinity of Jerrik's eyes. Amy's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she thought he was about to kiss her. She even shut her eyes in anticipation, though they shot open again as her torso straightened and she could feel his cock driving somehow deeper inside her, making her whine as her hands shot upward to cover his, her short nails scraching lightly into the back of his hands in a helpless bid to make him release her--or encourage him deeper. He didn't release her body of course, but she could feel his mouth dropping lower, making her cock her head in response to the teasing scratches of his beard and exposing more of her white skin to him.

Jerrik was going to bite her again, Amy had no doubt of it. But the anticipation of it made her wriggle and shake against him almost as much as the anticipation of the next thrust of his hips. Every moment she expected the tell-tale prick again, and every moment game another swirl of the tongue, or a cool breath against the metal in her ear, and she wanted to scream at him to just do it already. Nothing came out though except ever-faster breaths and desperate cries, until finally the prayed-for impact came. As the fangs dug into her skin, Amy screamed, then felt the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced tearing through her body.

There was no stopping the spasms that milked the cock deep inside her with surprising strength, or the uncontrollable flexing of her thighs or splaying of her fingers. Although Amy's eyes had gone wide she couldn't see a thing, and as the scream died away into panting she almost felt like she was ready to pass out. No doubt if Jerrik hadn't been holding her so tightly she could have collapsed to the ground entirely, but instead the waves subsided into little quivers, particularly in her hips and shaking ass. By the time sense had come back to her though, the student realized that despite cumming harder than she ever had before, the vampire showed no sign of stopping in his ministrations. He was still thrusting deep inside her, still playing with her swollen and oversensitive nipple, and already the pleasure was beginning to build inside her again.

He's going to fuck me to death she thought grimly, reaching her hands upward to settle in his soft blonde hair, too weak now to do anything but stroke gently as her eyes drifted shut again.

 

[Vekraihr]

Through his focused gaze, he noticed something peculiar on Amy's back which wouldn't have been visible if not for their positioning. He noticed the branches of a birch tree, specifically one which he and Anna would visit and watch the various birds which would roost there and she'd based a book cover on. He wondered if Amy had noticed the tree in his courtyard, or if she hadn't inspected the property closely enough to notice. He'd have to show it to her, but another time would be more appropriate. As he lifted her, she clutched at his hands and clawed softly at him or, at least, what the vampire perceived as softness. Every action she took seemed to encourage him to further ravish her and the vampire lord was only too happy to indulge her.

Eagerness seemed mirrored in them both as she coaxed him at every turn, begging him deeper, pleading for his fangs, and he hadn’t missed that anticipation she’d felt before he turned his attention towards her neck. His tongue flicked against the wounds beneath his teeth, lapping up the small droplets of blood that leaked thereof. Then, as Amy’s orgasm tore through her body and sent violent spasms along his twitching cock, his arms held her more steadfast as he maintained his piston-like rhythm within her. His movements mirrored the tides of pleasure which flowed through her body, seeming all too aware of her as he all but savagely took her. As she reached into his hair, he couldn't help but to lean towards the touches as if requesting her to continue. Though he wanted to look at her face now, releasing his fangs once more and— rather than pull from her and flip her— he withdrew almost entirely before dropping a hand to her hip and he rolled her onto her back with ease. His hand released her overstimulated nipple and wrapped around to her back, undoing the clasp of her bra with surprising alacrity before the vampire peeled the clothing the rest of the way from her and exposed her fully to him.

His throbbing head was all that remained in her for the moment as he loomed over her, breathing deep and heavy as he reached up with the hand that had undone her bra and untied his cloak, loosened his cravat, and allowed both to fall away before tearing his undershirt off with the rapid-fire sound of his buttons clattering to the floor. His chest was muscular and broad, with fair hair running coursely through the middle and bisecting his abdomen rather cleanly. A large, old-looking scar ran from shoulder to shoulder just below his clavicle, and there were several scars which appeared like stab wounds in his chest. After he'd bared his upper body, his hands reached down to trace along her stomach, enjoying the supple skin of hers against his firm touch. He'd obviously done very physical work in the past, something of an artisan craft due to how skilled he was with his fingers as they traced the various lines of her body.

It was then he noticed the script on her arm and he felt a surge run through him and straight into his undead heart. He looked at Amy and what had been burning lust was shifting rapidly towards unbridled passion as he replied, wholeheartedly, "And by my heart shall you be liberated." These were some of the last words said between he and Anna and-- whether it was merely the words alone or the way Amy appeared while laying below him-- Jerrik was nearly stunned by the wave of nostalgia which washed over him. He planted his hands to either side of her head and gave her a look of longing need as it was apparent something had sparked within him.

However, passion redoubled and his hips began to move in their sensual way, driving his pulsing shaft to the root within her as he pressed his body down against hers and took her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He kissed her like it was his birthright, as though she belonged to him and him alone-- and, in his mind, she did. He moaned against her lips and moved his entire body to feel the touch of her skin against his and move himself within her. Their chests rubbed against one anothers, friction warming his skin ever so slightly but not enough to where she wouldn't still feel the apparent chill in him. Where he had been silently building to crescendo before was now more apparent as his movements hastened and she could feel his core tightening as his lower stomach firmed firther as it brushed against her, attempting to draw out these last few moments and savor her all over again. His tongue intruded between her lips, swirling down and around her tongue as the slight metallic tang of blood could still be tasted within his own mouth and hers.

Resolve finally faltered, though and just as suddenly as he'd kissed her, he pulled his head away and with a deep, heated moan, "Amy..!" As his back arched towards her, hilting him to her reaches as he released all he'd been withholding with twitching, nearly violent spasms of his cock. His was hot and thick, erupting into her as a series of torrents as he drained himself entirely. His body twitched ever so slightly as he breathed deep, shuddering breaths, evidence of his satisfaction as he looked at her in a way only he could; a combination of curiosity, nostalgia and-- stranger than the others-- rekindling warmth.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Maybe it was just the feeling of afterglow, but Amy could have sworn Jerrik's touch had become gentler. His grasp was still firm of course, but it felt more like an embrace than a grapple, and she actually allowed herself to relax against him, breathing in that heady, woody scent of him. To her surprise, he was actually pulling out of her, although as she glanced downward the student doubted he'd had his fill of her yet. She was too exhausted to resist as he removed the rest of her clothing, although the cool air of the room did make her shiver a little and sent fresh vigor through her limbs.

Face-to-face with him now, he seemed slightly less terrifying than he had before he'd gotten her off, but there was still a strange light in those cold eyes of his that made Amy feel uneasy. Instead she dropped her gaze to his chest, watching bemusedly as Jerrik began to remove his own clothing. Why? she wanted to ask. He had seemed so much more powerful than her, so in control while she was exposed to him and he was still dressed in his formal shirt and cloak. Seeing his bare chest though, particularly the long scar and well-chiseled muscles that hinted at familiarity with physical work, he resembled something much closer to the young woman. Maybe he really was just a human, albeit a crazy one. But when Amy's fingers reached out to brush across the scar, she still felt that bitter chill beneath his pale skin, that idea quickly evaporated into nonsense.

"And by my heart shall you be liberated."

Amy's face jerked up. "W-what?" she gasped, unsure she'd actually heard Jerrik speak the words aloud. But she could see he'd caught sight of the tattoo on her arm, and suddenly it made sense. So he's read her books as well the student mused. There was a note in his voice though that made her think the words resonated more with him than they would have for the more casual fan. His face had changed too, and the American noticed with more than a little shock that the vampire almost looked sad, if not at least lost. Without knowing why, the young woman raised her hand again, stroking his beard gently in the hopes of...what? Comforting him? Coaxing him to release her?

In either case, Jerrik wasn't about to quit now. She suddenly felt him driving into her again, and while Amy could feel the cry of pleasure and surprise rising in her throat, it was immediately swallowed by a powerful kiss from the vampire. Her eyes went wide for a moment at the taste of blood on her tongue, but once she realized what was happening Amy shut them again, and even went so far as to wrap both arms around his neck. A split second later, her legs had hitched over his hips, and her entire body began to move in opposition to him, encouraging and goading him to go faster. Despite her earlier release the pleasure was growing again, and Amy felt as though her body was hot enough to burst into flames. Only the cool touch of Jerrik's skin against hers kept it from being unbearable, but even then she couldn't stop herself from peaking again.

"Jerrik..." Amy moaned, as she felt him filling her, her own body responding in kind as another round of waves radiated out from her core. Some distant part of her mind noticed that her voice sounded strange when she spoke his name, almost affectionate and alarmingly unconcerned that he'd failed to pull out of her (of course she'd been on the pill for years, but it was still alarming to consider the risks). Her legs relaxed and unwound from his waist, but her arms held firm around his neck as she pulled back far enough to look back at his face.

This time there was no doubt he'd gotten what he wanted, and Amy might have gone so far as to guess that he was even happy, if those icy eyes even knew how to express happiness. "Well...that happened," she muttered, unsure what else she could say considering he was still balls-deep in her. Blushing, she let go of his neck and tried to lay back against the desk, but exhaustion was quickly settling into her limbs, making her movements awkward and a little shaky as she tried to pull away from him.

 

[Vekraihr]

Unable to help the rolling shiver which rocked up his spine as she moaned his name with their simultaneous climax, Jerrik reveled in the sensation as he'd released in a manner he'd not done so for years. Or at least, that's what it felt like. As she clutched him with all of her limbs, he couldn't help but grin broadly as his eyes wrinkled ever so slightly at the corners. As she looked up at him, she would see the effervesence in him as the afterglow washed through him like a calming wave. His eyes had warmed considerably by this point and that predatory, nearly animalistic lust had disippated in favor of reserved delight. As she spoke, a low, bemused chuckle rumbled from him, causing his manhood to twitch with the movements of his abdominal muscles.

"Enjoyable, wasn't it?" he didn't sound as though he were asking her, his tone more teasing as if he knew she'd never gotten off that well before. Perhaps he was merely that confident in himself. As she made motions to pull away, he carefully and slowly withdrew from her with a final gasp as he slipped free and slapped heftily against the table beneath. "And...I think you will find yourself most pleased with the bargain you've made...Although, I believe I've ruined some of your clothes. I may have something which will fit you in the interim," his voice shifted to a more cordial vibrancy, a stark contrast to his tonality mere moments ago. Something had certainly struck him in a meaningful way, whether it have been the intimate words scrawled on her or the fond memories of moments long since passed that were now springing into his mind. Amy truly did bear the most striking resemblance to Anna and he began to consider how some cultures in the world believed in reincarnation and the thought of soulmates.

Utter silliness, he dismissed these thoughts with a shake of his head as he brought himself back to reality. "I should adjourn briefly to make myself...More appropriate. And to bring you something to enrobe yourself with. You'll likely need some time to recover, in a few ways, as well," he said as he stood straight up, moving with unnatural speed to collect the chair he'd kicked to the side and he brought it back over to the table. Then, he scooped up Amy by sliding his one arm beneath her knees and his other around her shoulders and lifted with the same ease he'd done previously. His muscles barely seemed to tense with her weight as they briefly flexed beneath his skin as he, without seeming to care whether the cushion would be stained, placed her at rest in the chair.

"Stay put. I'll return momentarily and then we can have a more...open discussion," his tone was firm but charming and it felt nearly as though he was promising he would come back to her as he simultaneously pressured her to stay. With a blurred swiftness, Jerrik left the room with her the sole occupant as he rushed through the labyrinthine halls towards his own chambers in order to recollect himself and dress. Within a separate wardrobe, he remembered he'd some old clothes which had belonged to Anna during her visit. Ever untrained in thought, she'd left some of her effects behind when she'd departed and Jerrik kept the reminders of her as pristine as she had enjoyed them. He thought of how the student was dressed, realizing Anna's particular dressing style probably wouldn't be suited to her, but perhaps she would like to see a dress regardless? Otherwise, she'd basically swim in one of his shirts. However, he leafed through his wardrobe anyway and plucked forth a long-sleeved and comfortable merino wool sweater which he typically found appropriate for a cooler, rainy day. Collecting both one of Anna's dresses for her and the sweatshirt, Jerrik went about putting a short sleeved, dark blue button-up shirt on and he'd left the top button undone, collar neatly pressed as he ran his fingers through his hair to confirm no errant strands remained.

He'd only been gone for a few minutes by the time he'd began his return journey to the study. A part of him wondered if she would have tried to make an escape by now or if, perhaps, her curiosity and desire to learn were too great for her to succumb to the fear he still no doubt inflicted upon her.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Enjoyable, wasn't it?"

All Amy could manage in response was an exhausted grunt as she felt him pulling out. He seemed to take the last of her strength with him, and she lay on the desk limp as a fish, staring up at the medallions on the ceiling. For a few moments the only movement in her was the heavy rise and fall of her breast, and when she finally did summon the will to sit up straight, she winced a little as she felt Jerrik's still-warm seed flowing out of her. Fuck she thought, trying to recall if she'd seen Plan B in the pharmacy back in Alost and wondering if she even knew enough Swedish to recognize it. Next time, she'd make him use a condom for sure.

Next time? What do you mean, next time? she scolded herself, turning red and immediately crossing her arms in front of her chest. At this point, it was sort of like shutting the barn door after the horse had gotten out, but it was better than nothing she supposed. "My clothes are fine, don't worry about it," Amy mumbled, sliding off of the desk. In all of the chaos she'd kicked her pants and underwear off somewhere, but she was able to find her hoodie at least. A white bit of fabric that might have been her t-shirt was sticking out from under the desk, but she'd have to get down on her hands and knees to pull it out probably. But before she got a chance to grab for it, she could feel the vampire's strong arms wrapping around her once again.

"What? Hey!" she gasped, trying to struggle against him but still feeling that heavy exhaustion in her limbs. The only thing she managed to accomplish was dropping her sweatshirt before Jerrik carried her across the room back to the chair he'd originally placed her in. "Jeez, I can walk you know," Amy began, although as she sat back in the chair she was wondering if that was true. And despite the more relaxed tone in the vampire's voice, there was still something of a warning in his words when he told her to stay where she was. Once he was gone though, Amy assumed that applied more to staying in the room itself rather than the actual chair, and shivering a little in the cold she crossed back to the desk to grab her hoodie again. As she pulled it on she realized it was still damp from the rain outside, but it would have to do for now.

The rest of her clothes seemed to have utterly evaporated though. While she could still see her t-shirt under the heavy desk, it had been kicked beneath the drawers on the right side and seemed to have caught on something. So that was how Jerrik found her when she returned: still naked from the waist down, ass in the air and cursing under her breath as she reached to free the other garment. The girl didn't hear him approach, but she could feel the coolness of his shadow washing over his back. Blushing at the indignity of her current position, the student swallowed hard and rose to her feet as proudly as she could manage, which was to say not very much.

"I was uh...trying to get my shirt," she explained, zipping her hoodie all the way up to the top while simultaneously trying to tug it down to cover her still sightly-swollen sex. "You wouldn't happen to have seen what happened to the rest of my clothes, did you?"

Apparently he did not, considering the other garments he had in hand. The coolness in the room was enough to make Amy accept them without a second thought, but she had to pause at the old-fashioned style of the dress. "Where did this come from?" she asked, trying to find some sign of a zipper or other easy point of access. "Is it your wife's?" Something like a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Wouldn't that make this afternoon absolutely perfect? After fucking a delusional stranger on a desk in a strange house in the middle of nowhere, his wife comes in to chase her out with a broom. It'd certainly make an interesting sidebar to her paper for the foundation.

Turning the dress around, Amy realized the only way to put it on was by undoing the long line of buttons down the back. An easy enough task on its own, assuming the dress would even fit a frame like hers, but redoing them was going to be a challenge. Once the bodice hung loosely over the skirt, the young woman tried stepping into it from the top, only to realize there was no way her wide hips would ever fit through the small waist. She'd have to go in from underneath, which meant taking her sweatshirt off again. Despite the fact she felt Jerrik had seen more than enough of her naked body for one day, until she could find the rest of her normal clothes she'd just have to suck it up.

Tossing the hoodie aside, she burrowed underneath the thick skirts of the gown, popping through the waist like a top-heavy rabbit. It was a tight fit, but Amy made it work, though she had to turn around and present her back to the vampire in order to be completely sealed into the garment. "Could you help me with this?" she asked, thankful he couldn't see her face as she pulled her hair away from her neck, giving him a full view of her tattooed back. As she waited for him to either help her or not, her eyes fell again on the portrait of Anna Edwards and her journal underneath, and it suddenly occurred to her that now that her end of their bargain was fulfilled, Amy was well within her rights to demand Jerrik of his.

"Can I see it?" she asked, turning around a minute later. "The journal I mean. I'd like to read a few more pages, to see what else she wrote. Will you let me?"

 

[Vekraihr]

As Jerrik re-entered the room, he couldn’t help how his attention gravitated to her exposed lower half and he bit the inside of his lips just a little. Had she shown a little more resilience, he might have had her again at that moment. However, he felt she deserved a break and, moreover, what he had intended to give her all along. “I’m keenly aware as to what you were after, dear Amy...However, I must admit that I, too, lost track of your clothes amidst the frenzy,” he responded to her cordially and with a mildly taunting tone to his robust, chocolatey smooth voice. Did he sound clearer? Perhaps the drink he’d taken had revitalized him in other ways, his voice having lost some of the harsher qualities it’d had at the outset. “Though, I do know that I ruined your jeans in my...haste,” he sounded more pleased with himself than he should have and he cleared his throat a little before flashing a charming grin with his extended canines proudly on display.

“This came from one of my wardrobes, of course. Anna was rather forgetful at times...Or, perhaps, sentimental and wished me to have some things of hers to remember...Not that I’d need them. Who could ever forget that woman?” Jerrik’s tone was sweeter as he spoke so highly of her, which seemed to be a recurring theme of his. She’d surely find it highly unusual he waxed so romantic for the authoress were he laboring under the delusion of having met Anna personally. Everything about his physicality, despite his calmed demeanor, still warned her instincts of the dangerous predator which lurked beneath those icy blue eyes.

Jerrik smiled earnestly as she undressed and began to pull the gown over her voluptuous figure and he indulged himself to enjoy the view of her a little more as he drew a deep, slow breath. Once she presented her back, he was there just as she had asked the question. Apparently, he’d experienced this once or twice. As she pulled her hair up, exposing her lovely neck, he couldn’t help but lean down and plant several soft, slow kisses to her pale flesh. His hands worked in tandem, fastening the buttons without him so much as looking as he spoke close to her ear, quietly, “I’m surprised you didn’t notice the tree outside...Though, I suppose it has grown since Anna last saw. I would love to take you out to see it when the weather is more...agreeable.”

He fastened the last button and stepped back away from her after filling his lungs with her essence, savoring every last drop of her. “Of course you can. I am a gentleman of my word, after all. If we cannot keep our word, what better are we than animals?” he asked her with a devilish grin as his gaze darted about the room for a moment before finding the shirt he’d torn off. “Ahh!” he exclaimed as he descended on it and reached into the breast pocket, withdrawing an old, bronze key. With unnerving fluidity, he moved over to the case, seeming to soundlessly cross the room in a fraction of a second before the lock clicked as it was turned open.

As the display opened with the gentle ‘creak’ of well-worn hinges, Jerrik could still smell the lingering remnants of Anna upon the pages. Hidden beneath the gentle vanilla smell of the aged book were the scents of a dalliance long since ended. “Please, be careful with handling it...I feel as though I don’t need to remind a scholarly woman but...It’s very important to me,” his voice seemed to convey the gravity he felt when offering the opportunity to her. This journal held great weight in him and it was plain to tell he was fighting every compulsion to protect the binding against hands other than his own.

Once she’d retrieved the book, Jerrik would busy himself gathering up the garments which had been strewn about the room. He shifted the large desk without so much as a grunt of effort or a strain of his visage, an incredible feat considering the desk must have weighed at least a few hundred pounds. Jerrik discovered her pants and panties half-hidden beneath the rug and his cloak was with his shirt off to the side of the room just in front of a bookcase. He’d fasten his cloak back around his neck, draping his body with the smooth, black fabric which highlighted how much taller he was than the average man.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Amy's breath caught in her throat, and not just because the tight bodice of the ground was squeezing it out of her. It wasn't just the touch of Jerrik's fingers running down her spine or the feel of his lips lips on her neck (although both made her knees shake a little under the heavy skirts). No, it was the knowledge of the gown's previous owner; the last woman who'd been buttoned up into the frock and run her own fingers over the dainty white flowers on the blue silk, still soft after more than a century.

"This was hers?" Amy murmured, surprised she even fit in it. Weren't women back then smaller than thinner than now? True it was a tight fit, the bodice pushing her breast together so tightly she hardly needed a bra, although it was cut low enough that she would have liked the extra bit of modesty. The sleeves were long enough to give her a little bit of warmth though, and the shawl collar provided an extra layer of fabric around her neck and shoulders. "Is it really okay if I wear this?" she asked, turning around to face Jerrik head-on. With the portrait of Anna behind her, she couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind as he saw the American wearing the dead woman's gown, but those cold eyes of his were expressionless as ever.

Luckily, his voice had become more friendly, and Amy gratefully accepted the sweater he held out in offering to wear over the gown. It looked a little dated too, though hardly as old as the dress, and it was oversized enough that it wouldn't crush the fabric as she slipped it over the bodice. "The people at the Foundation would loose their goddamn minds if they knew I was doing this. If they knew you even had it," she remarked with a small smile, shrugging into the warmth of the wool. Tilting her head a little, she looked more curiously at the vampire. "Do they know about you? The Red House Foundation I mean."

As soon as the words had left her lips, realization dawned on her. "It's your house isn't it? The Red House. Like in the book." Edwards' fourth novel of the aforementioned title was often considered to be one of her most controversial, though more for its lack of licentiousness than an excess of it. It was a story of a lowborn shipbuilder who rose through the ranks to marry a beautiful noblewoman, only for her to be slaughtered by his enemies on their wedding day. Amy often wondered why the foundation that had dedicated itself to the study and preservation of Anna Edwards' life and writings had been named after that particular book, and but so far her Fellowship hadn't touched on that question.

Did Jerrik have any ties to the Foundation? It seemed unlikely, considering how possessive they were even over the artifacts left behind in the Andreas Ljung house, but she'd heard weirder claims today. In either case, she supposed if there was something wrong with wearing the gown, then touching the journal would be nothing by comparison.

Her fear and hesitation began to fall away as Jerrik began to unlock the display case. For a brief moment as he lifted the book, Amy could have sworn a shadow of emotion had crossed his face, though it was over too quickly for her to say just was it was. Grief? Love? Regret? In either case, by the time he placed the journal in the student's outstretched hand, he'd reassumed that well-bred, cavalier expression that had a habit of making Amy feel so much smaller and weaker than him. For now though, she was able to ignore it. Anna Edwards' journal was in her hands.

She couldn't have been more awed if she'd held one of the Dead Sea scrolls. Sinking into the armchair, Amy merely held the leather bound book on her lap for a while, tracing her fingers over the faded gold snowflake design engraved on the deep red cover. Had Anna gotten it from her father? Her grandfather, Andreas Ljung himself? Had she bought it at some shop in London or Oslo before making her way to Sweden that winter of her first novel? The questions were spinning with possibility all around her mind, and for several minutes Amy was too scared to dispel them by opening the book.

Then, as if some outside force were controlling her hands, she very gingerly opened the cover and turned to the first page. There was that same spidery schoolgirl handwriting scrawled in long paragraphs all down the page, with a date in the upper left hand corner.

November 1st, 18--

My name is Anna Edwards, and I am twenty years and six months old as of today. I must admit I have not kept a journal in a very long time, although a thing occurred today that has prompted me to start a new one. Father, Mother, and I have come to visit Grandfar and Grandmor Ljung for the winter, and so far it has been dreadfully dull--how I wish we could have spent the season in London, as we did last year! But Father and Mother must have their peace and quiet to write, and I must suffer for it. Father gave me this little blank book prior to leaving home in the hopes I might write something useful while he and Mother are at their work, but until now it has been sadly neglected. Not for lack of trying; I think I would make a very good authoress if I could just think of something to write, but how am I to find inspiration in a place as isolated as this?

Well, My Good Reader (so I shall address whoever it is that might find this journal someday and pass a few hours' entertainment in perusing it), I think I have found a muse in the strangest place. His name is Lord Jerrik Ulbrecht the First, and I truly believe he is the most handsome man in the world...

*****
​

"Oh bother, that does look troublesome," Anna Edwards sighed as she came to the clearing in the trees. If she'd been home in England she would have expected those dark clouds on the horizon were threatening rain, but considering the thick blanket of white already on the ground and the little clouds of breath before her lips, she knew it could only be more snow on the way.

At the moment, she was still quite warm. Grandmor would never let Anna out of the house without at least four wool petticoats, three sweaters of varying thickness, a heavy jacket, and two sets of stockings she'd knit herself just last week. Not to mention the vibrant red mittens and the matching scarf that wound around the young woman's face, and the contrasting bright blue hat that covered her thick mane of white-blonde hair, currently plaited into two waist-length plaits down her back. It was more than enough to keep her cozy even if she'd been going for a stroll out to the barn, but the Englishwoman had spent almost the entire morning on a pleasant ski trip through the forest surrounding her grandfather's house, and had worked up quite the sweat in the process.

Normally one of her cousins would have joined her on such a venture, but Rika was in bed with a fever and the boys were busy tending to a sick cow out in the barn. The others were all either too young or too old to keep up, so Anna had been forced to amuse herself for the day. At first she'd considered going to call on a neighbor or two, but in her own opinion the farmers and overall peasant stock of the area were hardly enough to occupy the mind that had graduated with honors from the White Lake Finishing School for Girls. Most of the young men her age didn't even speak English, and while Anna's Swedish was acceptable, she knew she never got the accent right, and that some of the more mean-spirited girls she'd met often made fun of it behind her back.

Grandmor had been hesitant to let Anna go off on her own, but Grandfar had waved it off as nothing. She was a good skiier and the area was safe, and the worst thing that could possibly happen would be that she'd come back with a little more color in those usually pale cheeks of hers. He had made her promised to be back before dark though, and sooner if the weather turned bad. Grandfar could have a violent temper when crossed, so when Anna sensed the coming storm, she decided it would be wisest to turn back immediately.

Although she moved quickly through the woods, following the exact tracks she'd made on her way out, the snowstorm was fast catching up behind her. She guessed she was still an hour or two away from the house when the first flakes began to fall, and it was with some alarm a short time later that she realized her ski tracks were already filling up. Panic shone in her dark brown eyes as she pushed the poles with greater vigor, but it was no use. Before long the trail was gone, and she was lost in the woods, and it was getting colder.

We should have stayed in London Anna thought glumly, turning towards what she hoped was the main road. The trees were clearer some way over to the west, and if she couldn't find her way all the way home, she might at least find some other house willing to take her in until the storm had passed. It was getting darker now too, and the wind was beginning to howl mournfully through the creaking branches overhead. Anna had just about given up hope when suddenly she saw something red through the trees: the white trunk of a birch contrasting sharply against a wide brick wall.

"Thank God," she muttered, turning towards the building and pumping her legs as fast as she could. It wasn't just one house, as she had hoped. No, this was an entire collection of outbuildings, beautifully constructed but dark and desolate-looking. There was a lamp in one of the windows of the main house though, and that seemed worth a try at least. Skiing all the way up to the front door, Anna jammed her poles into a deep drift of snow alongside the steps, then bent over to unfasten her boots. Another gust of wind blew up, sending her toppling face-first into the snow, making her gasp and sputter as she struggled to regain her footing.

By the time she'd managed to make her way up the steps, Anna was cold, cross, and her clothes were dusted with white. There was a fresh fire of determination in her eyes though as she pounded her fist on the heavy wooden door, yanking down her scarf with her other hand so whoever answered would be able to see the frosty face of their unexpected guest.

"Hallå? Är någon hemma?" She called, accent be damned. When the door didn't immediately opened, she decided to try again in her native tongue, just in case. "Hello? Is anyone there? Please let me in, it's freezing out here!"

 

[Vekraihr]

Apparent was the care in which Jerrik treated the dress, as the fabric was still soft and comfortable even after all this time. As Amy expressed her disbelief as to the previous owner of the dress, Jerrik smiled broadly and nodded his head slowly. "Indeed it was...She was a little more slight than you are, but it fits you wonderfully. You are absolutely ravishing, Amy," his tone was a mixture of nostalgia and sincerity, the compliment rising from deep within his core. As she turned to face him, Jerrik gasped softly and looked her over slowly with a look of warm affection brimming. If he hadn’t known Anna to be childless, he would have felt assured Amy was a relation of hers. As she took the sweater, he briefly reached up and stroked her cheek; the touch was more akin to that one might get from a lover than a stranger and he withdrew his hand from her slowly.

"Well, the Foundation is primarily funded by me...There are other benefactors but its coffers are mostly filled from my own. And, once again, that is very astute of you. Indeed, the Red House is an allusion to my own and the Foundation was originally my doing. Of course, I couldn't continue running it and so they merely think my descendants continue my legacy...People would become suspicious of an unchanging, persistent entity who matches strikingly to the words written by my dear Anna," he answered all of her questions openly after they had all come and he took a brief, far-off gaze through the window before turning his full attention back towards Amy.

As the book left his grasp and into Amy's hands, there was trepidation as he released the pages and, for a brief moment, he'd been left trembling before his nails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists. He'd hoped this momentary lack of composure would go unnoticed as Amy found herself immediately compelled to dive in. Taking a seat nearby, Jerrik leaned against one arm of the chair with his elbow planted firmly against and his knuckles supporting his head. One might mistake him for being tired, though his eyes revealed he was anything but. He seemed studiously keen on Amy as her eyes scanned over the pages, line by line drawn into the world of a century past in which he had lived and loved. Statuesque, he sat in patient vigil over Amy as she devoured the words written by Ms. Erickson.

---

Jerrik had a roaring fire burning in the faintly lit den in which he sat upon an oversized armchair with a high back, plush tan material cradling his hard physique as he let his gaze wander to the windows. Drawn, deep crimson curtains framed his vision of the sky as dark, stormy clouds loomed ever nearer. Opposite him was a similarly luxurious armchair, both of which rested upon a plush white pelt that appeared to come from some large, arctic creature. Between the two chairs was a tall table upon which a decanter of golden, sweetly alcoholic drink aged. Several bookcases lined the walls and bronze sconces illuminated with soft firelight spaced several feet apart.

He'd heard a blizzard was in their future and he was pleased to see this news was correct. Storms were one of the few times where he could freely traverse outdoors, unmolested and unbothered by prying eyes and curious neighbors. In addition, there was a comforting silence afforded by the thick blankets of snow which dampened the harsher tones of the world and softened the melodies which carried upon the winds. Dressed as he was, in a tight, button-up shirt of deep gray and with a silver fur-lined black cloak around his shoulders and a pair of long, dark pants, he wouldn't seem terribly out of place in the snow. Though, it wouldn't matter much for only the foolish would brave such intense conditions.

Jerrik had spent quite some time as a vampire and less in the area, still being relatively (comparatively to the time he'd lived already) new to the keep and all its trappings. Surely, it'd been bestowed upon him by the lord which had turned him, however, the fledgling used his prior life's talent as a builder of boats in order to fashion himself a vessel befitting of traveling the world. Slowly and surely, he'd seen lands far and wide and bartered in coin, metals, and secrets in order to obtain vast quantities of items, pieces of knowledge, and curiosities. However, as the world transitioned and shifted towards the burgeoning industries that used mechanical power to further the goals of men, Jerrik found himself increasingly frustrated by the changes and returned to his homeland. It was here that Jerrik had compiled his vast wealth and where he deigned to spend the rest of eternity, reclusive and shut away from an ever-evolving world. It wasn’t because he couldn’t adjust, but rather that he’d preferred to keep himself from interfering too much in the affairs of men.

On one hand, a book without a title or legible text on the cover laid open, and within were foreign runes and diagrams of strange and alien-looking devices. Jerrik seemed puzzled at the pages, occasionally glancing at a page that likely was a cipher for the strange language. Slowly, he closed the book and set it on the cipher to which it belonged and he rose to his feet and ensured his hair was properly kept in his preferred style. Outside, the blustering storm had arrived and the hoary howl of winter’s cold embrace resonated through his keep. “Mmmmmmm…” he mused as he walked out of the den and walked down the hallway towards the foyer. There, intricate tapestries hung downwards from the ceiling, adorning the support pillars which held the larger ceiling of the room aloft. A few statues of different origins lined the walls, a few made of beautiful marble and one made of deep green jade which was intricately carved into a lovely three-masted schooner which stood at the pride of place in the room.

As he made his way towards the door, his ears picked up the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow before a voice called through the door. At first, in well-spoken but improperly accented Swedish and he almost replied before closing his mouth as he heard, more clearly, a woman calling in British English. Truly, were someone caught out in this blizzard they likely wouldn’t make it through the evening. Momentarily, he considered whether it was his responsibility to provide her shelter from the biting cold. He shook the thought from his head; he was undying, not callous. Jerrik produced a key from the inside of his cloak and slipped the key into the waiting lock and a few metallic clicks proceeded the door creaking inwards.

What awaited the young woman was the statuesque figure known as Jerrik the First, who looked down at her with eyes of ice and a visage carved of stone and beard which looked well-groomed and waxed. His eyes narrowed scrutinizingly towards her and it was almost as though he loathed the idea of allowing her inside. Wordlessly, he stepped aside from the threshold and swept his arm through the air with a rustle of his cloak, gesturing her inside. Once she crossed indoors, Jerrik moved into the doorway and thrust his head outside, looking about slowly and then giving a soft chuckle as the thick flakes of snow tickled his cold skin. Then, he slammed the door shut and looked at the dusted and frigid looking girl. “Come, I have a fire,” his demand was followed by him moving gracefully around her and back towards the western hallway through which they could reach the warm, cozy den.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

When the door finally opened Anna let out a sigh of relief so great it created a blinding cloud in front of her eyes. At first she didn't even notice the figure standing in the gloom inside, but she assumed it was some servant or another, given the size of the place. She didn't need to be told twice to brush past him out of the wind, and it wasn't until the door had shut behind her and she was already stamping the snow off of her boots that the young lady bothered to look back and really scrutinize her host. As she did, she paused with her arms awkwardly lifting up her outermost sweater, ready to strip the snow-crusted garment off and lay it near some warm place to dry, but the expression on the tall man's face made her think twice.

The first thing that came to mind when she looked at him was an illustration of Leif Erikson she'd seen in one of Grandfar's history books. He must have had Viking ancestors without question, although his clothes were elegant and well-tailored enough that he would have fit in among the most fashionable crowds in London, except for his beard of course. Although it was well groomed, it simply wasn't the style in Anna's homeland, although here in the bitter Swedish woods it did distinguish him as of a rather gentlemanly class of people. That should have given her some relief, but there was something in the man's cold blue eyes that made her think he was more than just another rich landowner like her grandfather (though judging by the house, this man must have had at least three times the fortune of Andreas Ljung).

Anna wasn't frightened exactly. A bit embarrassed at her rather brazen intrusion of the man's home--and she could definitely determine now that this was no servant who'd greeted her--but more perplexed at who he was. The only thing that gave her some relief was the brief, yet firm and unmistakably English sentence, "Come, I have a fire."

"Oh thank heavens!" she cried out, tugging off her hat and giving her frosty braids a good shake. "I didn't think anyone around here spoke English. That'll make things much easier." Following him without a second thought, she began to slip off her mittens and unwind her scarf, the relative warmth of the room quickly helping evaporate the sweat that had gathered on her long white neck. "My name is Anna. Anna Edwards. I'm here visiting my grandfather, Herr Ljung? Do you know him?" Quickly, she began to run through the list of neighbors Grandfar had ever mentioned or introduced to her. The Englishwoman was quite sure this was the first time she'd ever encountered this particular gentleman--who could ever forget a face like his?--but it was possible his name had landed on her ears in the past without her ever knowing.

"I was out skiing when the storm blew up," the visitor continued, noting the odd statues and paintings that lined the walls, but unable to take much time to study them without falling behind. She'd often prided herself on her height and long legs, but the man in front of her had an even greater stride, and she had to scamper lightly after him to keep up. "I'm afraid I got a bit turned around in the bad weather and wandered away from road. Please tell me, am I very far from Alost?" Her dark eyes glanced out the window, and Anna felt a sinking feeling in her heart. The storm looked like it was going to get worse before it got better, and that meant her family was going to throw a fit when she didn't come home. She might have asked her host if he could spare a servant to carry a message to her grandfather's house, but so far she hadn't seen any sign of another person in the house, and even if she did it would have been nothing short of murder to send them out in this weather.

"Oh dear...I shall never hear the end of this," she muttered under her breath as the man led her into a small, but cozy room with the promised fire blazing merrily away in a hearth near the wall. That was all it took to drive Anna's fears clear out of her mind, and dropping her hat, scarf, and gloves onto a white pelt draped over the nearest chair, she practically ran to the fireside to warm her chapped extremities. Once her front was comfortable enough, she turned around to slowly warm the back, taking care not to let her petticoats get too close to the flames, and that her posture wouldn't assume any inappropriate angles. With her eyes facing the rest of the room, she saw the master of the house had a library that would have put even her parents' to shame, and she couldn't hide the appreciative smile that slowly crossed her fate.

"You have quite the collection of books, don't you, Mr..." It was at that moment the young woman blushed crimson, realizing she had been so rude as to forget to ask his name. "I'm so sorry, you must think me quite the nasty little intruder. I do apologize sir, it's just that today has been so trying, and your house is so warm and lovely that it seems I've completely forgotten myself." Standing up straight, Anna approached the man and offered him the deepest curtsy that twelve years of finishing school could offer.

"May I ask your name, so I can offer proper thanks to my savior?" As she rose back up, Anna flashed him the smile she had always used on her father and grandfather when trying to reclaim their good graces, praying this man would be just as susceptible to her charms. If not, she supposed she would end up having to drop to her knees in order to beg a cup of tea, and she wasn't quite thawed out enough to attempt that just yet.

 

[Vekraihr]

Jerrik stood and his eyes narrowed softly upon the snow which she tracked onto the fine carpet, his brow furrowed ever so slightly and his lips drawn in a taut line. His expression didn't soften as he observed the way she seemed to be taken aback by his appearance; rather, the lord seemed to further scowl as she forsook a proper greeting. What woman was this who seemed so obliged to enter a lord's keep and not observe any pleasantries at all? Though it wasn't as if he'd offered any, either, but he deigned it his right as the lord to withhold as much as he pleased.

She proclaimed thanks, though not for the reason he'd expected. English was becoming more widespread, though he supposed most of his village had yet to apply themselves to learning it. He'd found English as being one of the more common languages among naval forces and, as he'd sailed for some time, it became a requisite for him to facilitate any sort of bartering for the English colonies and countries as well. "I'm sure it must be a pleasant surprise to hear your mother tongue," his warm bass voice had a soft rasp to it, as though fever and cough had injured his vocal cords as a child. Anna was her name, she offered and continued to speak with haste and fervor he'd not anticipated nor welcomed. He followed her easily enough, however she seemed keen on the sound of her own voice. Perhaps she spoke so out of nervousness or anxiety? Whatever the case, the sound of her voice was at least pleasant to his ears and her accent didn't grate on him the way some others might've.

"I am aware of Herr Ljung, and the others. Though, I have not found the need to make any public appearances for some time. As such, I merely know them by name and reputation," each response was matter-of-fact and as succinct as it could be. His footsteps clicked along the stone floor and the well-polished boots seemed to be of the variety one would have worn outdoors. He certainly appeared as though he was ready to travel out into the blizzard, albeit interrupted by the necessary rescue of the young maiden. It was surreal how easily he moved, a man of his size with the grace of one much smaller and lithe. If not for the sound of his feet, one might have thought he merely glided through the air as an apparition might.

As the neverending barrage of speech continued, Jerrik noticed her need to hustle in order to keep up with him. It seemed unfair for him to continue moving so quickly and, thus, he dropped to nearly half-step pace. Her question dragged him from his thoughts as he looked back towards her briefly. "Not quite far, perhaps a couple of hours on foot. Skiis are much faster, however," he answered as he followed her gaze out of the window. Outside, the bitter cold howled as the winds picked up and nearly whited out the windows as the blitz of snow continued to fall from the heavens in heavier and heavier blankets. She would be here for a while, he thought while he wondered what he might do to feed her. It wasn't as though he kept food in his home. Now he thought better of that decision. What if someone of import decided to stop by and found his shelves and kitchen barren? Even the richest of nobles who never touched a single pot or pan still had food stores enough to feed themselves for weeks if need be. He'd need to do something before morning, of that he was certain.

They'd arrived in his den and the fire still danced jauntily within the hearth and Anna wasted no time at all warming herself before the fire, dropping her sodden outerwear onto the water-resistant pelt. "I'm sure your family will be understanding. If not, you may tell them that you sheltered at Ulbrechtstalle. Herr Ljung should grow quiet at that," Jerrik told her as he walked over towards the desk which contained the decanter of aged honey wine and began to pour two glasses of it. As she gazed around to see the books, she would see a litany of tomes in all manner of bindings, of all ages, and some with and without titles on the spine. Some were written in beautiful calligraphy, while others still were written in alphabets and symbols she couldn't even hope to decipher let alone read. Some were still beyond his comprehension as well, such as it was.

Finally, she seemed to wisen to the proper way to conduct oneself in a Lord's home as she hastily straightened herself and apologized. She approached him and he took a step away from the table before her offering of a deep curtsy following carefully selected words to which he felt obliged to sweep his cloak back as he took a deep, cordial bow in return. "And I am Lord Jerrik Ulbrecht, first of my name. It is a pleasure to formally meet you, Ms. Edwards," his response was warmer at this and for a moment, his features seemed less than severe and his eyes even wrinkled a little at the corners as he smiled, exercising a little restraint on how much teeth he displayed. Her smile up to him was full of life and naivete, of a young woman who had much to learn. Jerrik almost found it endearing as it reminded him of his own smile in the water's reflection so long ago. Quickly, his features returned to a position of tacit indifference and he turned back towards the table. He'd said nothing to assuage any of the other concerns she might have had; and, he didn't care to.

"You know of mead, yes? Here, this will warm you inside," he held a glass towards her, noticeably less full than the one he'd reserved for himself. Such signaled that his intent was not to get her drunk and take advantage but merely to offer her small comfort. Even at the seemingly kind gesture, Jerrik's face did little to soften. "I know you might be more fond of tea, however, I find myself lacking at this moment." Once she had taken the glass, Jerrik raised his own towards her and proclaimed in a prominent boom, "Skål!" before taking a large gulp of the liquid. It tasted sweet and slightly floral, with notes of elderberry and plum and its age had lent it a rich finish which left a refreshing herbal flavor lingering. Mead (or melomel, in this case) was the only thing he could consume other than blood, which he'd found unusual considering his condition. All other foods and drinks made him wretch and seize, save for some other alcoholic drinks. However, the various honey wines he'd collected over his years persisted as his favorites.

It dawned on him after that he'd neglected to respond to her assertion on his collection of books. A proud grin spread over his lips and he looked around slowly. "Indeed, I do...You should see my library," even his tone was profuse with satisfaction and he hadn't missed how she'd appreciated the tomes. Perhaps they would have something in common yet. Jerrik didn't entertain much and, as such, he walked over to his armchair and slowly took a seat and took another sip from his glass. "So, tell me, Ms. Edwards, what do you enjoy doing with your free time? I presume reading already, but what else makes a lovely woman find herself in the company of strange men?" he flattered her, though he did find her to be of conventional attractiveness. Her plaited braids of white blonde and sublime, womanly figure (as much as he could tell, anyway) to the soft, gentle features of her face and the deep warmth of her earthen eyes, Jerrik would have been smitten as a man. But, as a monster, Jerrik's heart had turned cold and even a visage such as hers did little to warm it through.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

The more her host spoke, the more Anna decided she rather liked the sound of his voice, although somehow it didn't seem to match his face. The tone was much too warm for his cold eyes, but something in it seemed to resonate in her bones quite nicely, and as the warmth crept into her body the young woman found her gaze more and more drawn to the mysterious stranger.

"Grandfar never mentioned any of his neighbors spoke English," she remarked as she began to remove her outermost sweater again, not quite as worried about propriety now that she knew the blonde man wasn't a complete stranger. Beside, she had several more layers underneath to protect her modesty, although Anna was quickly wishing she was back in her grandfather's house so she could strip down entirely to light, yet still cozy wool shift. "In fact, he told me quite the opposite." But perhaps he'd intended to help protect his neighbor's privacy? Unlikely. The more the young woman stared at the elegant angles of the bearded man's face and the stately form of that well-dressed body, the more she was beginning to suspect Grandfar had a different reason for wanting her to stay away from Ulbrechtstalle, as the place was apparently called.

Mysteries began to circle Anna's mind like ravens. Was she in the presence of the neighborhood scoundrel, the kind who could charm well-behaved young ladies out of their fathers' homes and tempt them into scandal? Or had he perhaps come by all these marvelous books and fanciful decorations by less than honest means? He hardly looked like a common thief, but there was something vaguely military about him. Perhaps he had a network of thieves that all answered to him as their general, while they went out and scoured the land for beautiful things to fill his home.

Unlikely. He'd probably end up with nothing more than birch boughs and wildflowers Anna thought with a little giggle, chasing the thought out of her mind. This was hardly London after all, and all the wealthy families were more interested in investing in livestock than paintings or jewels. If only his beard were blue, that might give the Englishwoman some idea of why Grandfar had never mentioned him, but as far as she could tell her host was just another wealthy, well-mannered country gentleman.

No, not just a gentleman. A lord! Immediately, Anna dropped into a deep curtsy. "Forgive me, My Lord, I wasn't aware there even was any nobility in this part of the country," she apologized quickly and rising slowly. Thankfully Lord Jerrik hardly seemed any more offended at this than any of her other faux pas, and he even went so far as to smile at her, albeit it was a rather stiff and uncomfortable sort of smile. All the same, Anna was just pleased not to find herself thrown out in the snow again, and gratefully accepted the glass of golden wine that he offered her.

"Oh, yes! Grandfar makes his own as well," she explained, taking a delicate sip and feeling her stomach warming almost immediately from the inside. As the flavors danced over Anna's tongue, she couldn't help but widen her eyes in surprise and hold the glass up againt the firelight behind her, marveling at it s rich color and aroma. She would have never dared tell her beloved grandfather, but Lord Jerrik's mead absolutely put his to shame, and she realized she would need to be careful not to drink it too quickly and risk losing her head. "My, that's lovely! Do you make that here? You must have quite the apiary!"

Between the warmth of the fire and the warmth of the wine, she decided to remove her second sweater, and laid it neatly over a screen beside the heart along with the first. Taking up her glass again, she finally felt comfortable to sit in the other chair across from her host, taking another light sip of the mead before looking back over towards the lord. Her cheeks flushed again as she heard him calling her lovely, and she tried to laugh the comment off as she would have with any other flirtation. "Blizzards and a poor sense of direction seem to be the primary factors. Perhaps a bit of good luck as well," she retorted with a smile.

Behind her light tone and shining dark eyes, she was quickly trying to gauge Lord Jerrik's age. Older than herself, of course, but younger than her own father, she'd guess. Maybe even younger than some of her oldest cousins. Certainly of an age though where he ought to have had a wife and children for company. "I do not mean to be rude, Lord Jerrik, but I feel I must ask: do you live here alone?" Anna continued, raising her glass again. "I did not see any sign of servants outside, and it seems so very quiet in this place. Surely you don't tend to the entire estate all on your own?"

If he did, the fact was both impressive and a bit pitiful. How could such a handsome man with an apparent fortune not have a beautiful helpmeet at his side? Again, the mysteries of who Lord Jerrik really was and why Anna hadn't heard of him previously began to circle her mind. Perhaps he'd had a wife after all, and killed her. Maybe she had been rich, and that was the origin of all his great fortune and splendid house. But it still didn't answer the question of who helped him run the estate now. His tall, broad frame might have hinted at some ability to manage things partly on his own of course, yet what laborer still bothered to wear such fine clothes as his, especially on a snowy night when he certainly hadn't been expecting any company?

"Have...have you lived here very long?" the young woman asked slowly, draining her glass and setting it aside as she relaxed back in the chair, crossing her legs at the angles and folding her hands neatly in her lap, although it was still hard to sit comfortably with so many stiff petticoats on.

 

[Vekraihr]

"You may have taken my words incorrectly. Merely because I know of your Grandfar does not mean he knows of me," he corrected her with a firm tone as his eyes focused sharply on her. Behind the coldness of his eyes, there was a curiosity growing and the faintest light began to illuminate the icy hues. However, his disposition seemed slow to change, much like the advance of winter into spring; the last vestiges of ice and frost clawing and holding on for as long as possible. Anna seemed to take a great interest in him, though and did little to hide it. Her eyes continually searched him for his features and repeated every so often. Had he a weakness for flattery, he'd certainly have felt it by this point. "Perhaps he wished to protect you," he added as his eyes briefly gleamed with an indiscernible emotion. Mischief, mayhaps. As she removed another layer of her clothing, Jerrik couldn't help but take in the aroma which wafted from her as she further exposed her warm skin.

She contrasted him, soft and mild to his hard severity, and, for reasons he didn't quite know yet, he found her company pleasant. Albeit, having not expected a guest he was still quite taken aback and the back of his mind was still plagued with thoughts of how he was to feed this poor creature who'd sheltered with the beast. He wondered what she might like for breakfast; a recollection of hearty English full breakfasts passed through his mind's eye and he tried to shake the thought as he was certain he'd not find all the proper accouterments to treat her to such. Jerrik reached up and stroked his fingers through his beard pensively, straightening it just a little further before brushing his fingers back through the golden locks on his head, liberating a ribbon of strands which framed the side of his face.

Suddenly, she felt compelled to curtsy much deeper than she had before and he raised his hand to protest but her quick speech cut him off. "I--" he began before she labeled him as nobility. Oh, how little she understood of him. He did not call himself Lord because of his now noble name, but because of the longevity which had been bestowed upon him by this blessed curse. Jerrik ruminated for a moment before a prideful look overtook his face as she praised his melomel. Her pleasure was written directly on her face as she took a drink and then proclaimed the taste to her satisfaction. "I haven't for some time, but that's only because I've yet to drink through enough to justify it. Though, my apiary is quite grand. Do you know much of the craft?" his tone had warmed as he was mildly boastful and seemed even jovial to discuss such things. She'd found a weakness in that cold armor of his that allowed her further access to the man beneath.

Her crimson shade as he complimented her looks didn't go unnoticed, that delicious flush which threatened to ignite another thirst in him were he not careful. "Oh, you think yourself fortunate for finding my company? You poor, sweet soul. I'm afraid I might turn out to be a dreadful host," he'd even engaged in that playfulness with her and he found himself smiling a little broader, the slight shape of his long canines coming into view for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and his face was as stone once again. As she began to probe about his household and whether or not he’d a family, his expression became dour as he looked through her for a moment.

“I do live here alone. Solitude is necessary for one such as I. I am the master of this estate and therefore its care falls onto my shoulders,” he spoke matter-of-factly and he’d continued to gaze far off before snapping from his contemplation. Lord Jerrik took another slow draw from his glass before opening the decanter to refill it halfway and he looked on her glass to see if she needed refreshing. “Of course, you know your limits more than I, but if you desire more there is plenty enough,” he offered as he sealed the bottle once again and took another sip with a low sigh.

He’d no idea how to further dive into conversation and distract the woman from the questions which begged to be asked. “I have been in the possession of the estate for some time, but I haven’t lived within for terribly long,” he answered quite non-specifically and didn’t delve further into the matter. “For how long do you plan to visit your family? This weather is good for the complexion but poor for the constitution,” he questioned her in return, wondering to himself if there might be any further opportunities to run into each other after this. He noticed how stiff her posture was and he felt a little silly just looking at her and he shook his head slowly. “You know, if I need add another log to the fire to warm it to your liking in here, you need only ask. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable, as you are a guest within my walls.”

Jerrik glanced towards the book he’d been translating before he’d decided to go out into the snowscape beyond his windows. Outside, the wind howled through bare trees and whipped white blurs into furious whirls beyond the thick, clear panes. Jerrik’s eyes were deep as he found her again and he thought further on her behavior. Certainly, she was a learned lady as was apparent by her demeanor. However, whatever school she’d attended hadn’t managed to beat the joie de vivre from her which was uncharacteristic of women of her tutelage. At least, it had been in his experience. “Did you have a specialty in your studies?” he further pried as he allowed his interest to take a further hold, in no small part due to his desire to distract her further.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Anna nodded slowly at the offer of more mead, but her face was twisted with perplexion. Grandfar, not knowing of an estate like this, so near by? Impossible, he knew the entire countryside like the back of his hand. But if Lord Ulbrecht really was dangerous--and that was an entirely separate matter to be considered--it was perfectly understandable that her grandfather would avoid speaking about him. He was so old-fashioned, and storm or no storm she would probably get an earful of enraged Swedish whenever she made it home. It would have been bad enough if she'd been force to spend the night at some genteel farmer, but spending an extended amount of time with a rich, handsome man without another soul about? Even London society would be scandalized at that.

But...was it really so bad? Anna swirled her glass thoughtfully before taking a sip. Surely more mercenary young ladies would have done the same in the hopes of landing a rich husband. Not that she needed money, but perhaps a little scandal would liven up the dreadfully boring neighborhood, and give her some proper inspiration to finally launch her own writing career. "You must be quite the dangerous fellow to warn me off so sincerely," the young lady teased gently, uncrossing and recrossing her ankles as she leaned forward. "I'm afraid, though, that you've allowed one small crack in that villainous facade of yours. Would you like to know what it is?"

Giggling a little, she glanced out the window, where the snow was falling thicker and heavier than ever. "If you were really a terrible murderer, you never would have invited me inside. It would have been much easier to simply shut me out in the snow and let me freeze to death, and that truly would be something to warn people off. However, since you did allow me in--and yes, another log would be lovely if you don't mind--I can only imagine that, at the very worst, you are a scoundrel, Lord Ulbrecht. But certainly not a monster. And I think it perfectly acceptable that if one must choose between death and a scoundrel, only cowards and martyrs would choose the former. And while I may only be a silly schoolgirl, I am certainly neither a martyr nor a coward. And I don't really think you a scoundrel at all, nor even a dreadful host. As far as I can see, you are a very kind gentleman who saved a lady in distress from a very unpleasant demise indeed."

That matter settled, she seemed more than content to go into the details of her life at White Lake. "Oh, you know, all of the expected accomplishments for a proper young lady. Some painting--I'm not bad--and a little sewing--I am bad--as well as dancing, music, French, proper conversation...dear me, I imagine Mrs. Fisher would be appalled at how I've conducted myself on that last point," she added with a giggle before taking another sip of the mead. "Regardless, it would appear the esteemed faculty of the White Lake School has imparted unto me all the knowledge they are capable of, the dear creatures, and now I am left to conduct my further education on my own. Hence my presence in this fine nation."

She paused a moment, an idea suddenly occurring to her. "You seem to be a man of great learning, Lord Ulbrecht. I doubt you would trouble yourself with the novels of Klara Ljung--though I think they're quite wonderful, myself--but perhaps you have read some of the treatises of Mr. William Edwards? He wrote a wonderful series of essays on Paradise Lost," Anna beamed with pride, then blushed a little. "They're my parents, you know. My mother, Klara, is Herr Ljung's youngest daughter. We'll be staying with Grandfar at least through the spring, possibly longer. I think while we're here they're expecting me to improve my Swedish--it's awful, I know--and perhaps do a bit of writing on my own."

Her blush deepened at this last statement. It wasn't a secret, exactly. How could it be, with such literary people as Mr. and Mrs. Edwards for parents? And Anna really did like making up stories in her head. But somehow...they never seemed as good on paper as they did when they were fantasies dancing through her mind. Most of the notebooks she'd filled in the past had been burned in shame. Father had given her a new one prior to leaving London, and while it sat waiting for her on the desk back in her room at Grandfar's, Anna had yet to even open it.

She drained her second glass of mead, then let out a sigh. "It's quite the challenge, for a child to try to write something worthy of such brilliant parents. I suppose that's why I went out skiing today. With the storm, it would have been a perfect excuse to sit down and try to get something out, but I'm afraid...well, you know." Anna's dark eyes brightened a moment as she looked up. "At least it allowed me to make an acquaintance as interesting as yours, Lord Ulbrecht. Tell me, before you took possession of this estate, where did you live? Your English is impeccable."

It occurred to her a moment later that the comment might have been a bit rude, but Anna was beginning to feel too weary to care much. She nodded her head quietly in response to Lord Ulbrecht's answers, feeling the melomel settling heavily in her head and limbs. Some distant part of her warned her that it was dangerous to allow herself to become too intoxicated while she was alone with a strange man, but there wasn't much she could do about it now. Besides, as she fixed her gaze on her host's face in an attempt to keep her eyes open, the dangerous shadows seemed to be fading from him. As far as Anna was concerned, he was a polite, if peculiar, creature of solitude that had been kind enough to give her shelter from the storm, and that was good enough for her.

"Oh...do forgive me..." she murmured as she felt an irresistible yawn rising in her. Covering her mouth quickly, Anna blushed again and quickly shook her head. "Please don't think me rude, Lord Ulbrecht, I do not mean to imply there is anything uninteresting in what you say. But now that I'm properly warm it seems I'm much more exhausted than I thought. I don't suppose we might switch from melomel to coffee?" Although at this point, even coffee might not be able to keep the exhausted Englishwoman awake.