The house was old and menacing. It had a long, wide yard full of green grass and a well-cared for garden. The establishment was large with many windows that hinted to the many rooms. Despite the lateness of the hour the home looked awake. Candlelight flickered behind dark painted windows and the doors frequently opened and closed, letting people in and out as they went to explore the city by night. Gustav brought the carriage to the right side of the house.

Marcel let himself out and took Alexandria's hand in his. Once she was safely out of the carriage Gustav took it away as if to return it to the carriage house on the far right side of the grounds. Marcel took Alexandria's arm and led her into the house without a word.

He pushed open the French doors and stepped inside. Alexandria held in a breath as she took in the sight of the mansion. The foyer was large and spacious. The ceiling was tall. A crystal chandelier hung high above them. But yet it wasn't as she had expected. It was built more like a hotel than a home. There were several sofas around the room almost making a circle. All of them had occupants except for one, the only blood red sofa in the room. It sat in the middle of the half circle. The tenants of the house avoided it as if it were reserved.

The room went quiet as Marcel appeared. Everyone turned their heads to look at him. Then focused their attention on the girl attached to his arm. They eyed her hungrily as he led her across the floor, speaking in hushed whispers, their pale eyes glistening under the lit chandelier. He led her to the red sofa and motioned for her to sit down. She did as told and he bowed to her ever so slightly. Then turned to face the room.

"Your Queen," he spoke softly, though everyone nodded in understanding. They all stood and bowed their heads gently.

She was unsure of what to make of it all. She did not feel like a Queen. The room was filled with a mix of men and women. All of them had a regal quality to them. All of them were finely dressed. The men were just as beautiful as the women. She felt small and unwelcoming in her ragged clothes and messy curls.

Marcel lifted his hand again and she slipped hers into it and stood, unsure of the ritual of the couch. He led her away from the sofa and everyone bowed their heads as they passed. There were two large staircases on either side of the room and Marcel led her to the left one. Her untrusting human eyes searched the room as he led her up the stairs. She looked at all the tenants of the house. All of them had the same unearthly quality that Marcel and Gustav had. She spotted him at the foot of the right staircase. He was watching her with his hands clasped behind his back. Their eyes locked and he gave her a crooked smile.

When they reached the top of the stairs Marcel led her to a room. The third room on the left, she counted. It had a large four poster bed in the center. The duvet was blood red. The walls were black. On the left side of the room was a thick oak wardrobe and a door that led to an adjoining room. There was a set of glass French doors that she assumed led to a balcony, though the glass had been painted black along with the walls. The right side of the room had a vanity already full of expensive and luxurious things she never would have been able to afford.

Marcel led her to the foot of the bed and turned her to him.

"Your room," he told her. She nodded.

"Thank you," she replied as if unsure of what to say.

Without a word he reached out to take her coat from her shoulders. Then he discarded it on the floor as if he had never seen something so disgusting. She felt uncomfortable and over exposed in her ragged dress with her breasts swelling out of the top of her bodice. He let his eyes linger over them for far too long before moving again.

Still silent he began removing her clothes. Her breathing grew heavier and labored. Fear prickled at her skin mingled with an excitement she couldn't explain. He pulled the pins out of her hair, letting the curls fall around her shoulders and frame her face.

When she was in nothing but her corset and under dress, he pushed her onto the bed and climbed on top of her. He pressed his lips to her throat and adrenaline rushed through her body. Her blood prepared her body for the bite. It weaved its way through the intricate web of veins under her skin, preparing her for death or rebirth. She couldn't decide which sounded better at that moment. She figured this was the price she had to pay. Her body for her life.

He ran his hand up her thigh, pulling her dress with it. Then without warning he filled her with himself. She let go of a whimper and a gasp. The fear and excitement still fought for dominance. The scent of her blood reached his nose, signaling the loss of her virginity. The scent brought up the monster that had been lurking under his shell and she saw the change in his eyes. The sudden lack of color in his already pale irises. The fear won over and her human instincts told her to run. But there was no place for her to run to now. It was already too late.

He lifted her arm above her head, touching her fingers to her curls. And then he pulled her arm to his face and laid soft and gentle kisses on her wrists. He locked eyes with her and her instincts told her to escape. But she did not listen to them. The fear had gripped her, frozen to the bed. Then he parted his lips, closed his eyes, and sank his teeth into her skin.

And then very suddenly everything had been reversed. The fear faded away to a dull numbness and was replaced by the ecstasy of his bite. He let go of his grip on her arm and laid it down gently to rest by her head. Then he moved lower, finding favor in planting his lethal kisses on her neck. She felt the same sharp pierce of skin as he bit into her, the same pleasure, and then the pull of her blood. The slow and gradual weakening as he removed it from her body.

She felt nothing but pleasure as the blood slowly left her body. His skin became flushed pink as her blood filled him. His body became warmer as hers grew colder. His eyes returned to their previous color and he released her. He stood up and away from her.

Her body remained frozen to the bed, unmoving due to the lack of blood in her body and the feel of his infection as it latched itself onto the remaining blood cells. Her breathing remained heavy as she tried to contemplate what was changing in her. But there wasn't enough blood in her body to fully sustain the thoughts of her mind.

"Sleep, my queen," he spoke. He planted a gently kiss on her sweating forehead. And then he was gone.

...

Okay, so a lot of people have mixed feelings about vampires having sex. Mine can. And my reason is because their entire existence is based on blood. As is sex. Also because the way these particular vampires function is rather that... it's a disease. It makes them sort of like extreme hemophiliacs. Their bodies don't generate enough blood so they take blood to make up for it. They can't survive off of animal blood because that was made for animals. They need human blood. They ARE immortal however and the reason for that is explained in the sequel. And they do heal rapidly but not like... ridiculously. And also sunlight causes rapid and extreme sunburns. But they don't sparkle.