A/N: My take on the pastor's daughter. It'll be 4 chapters and they're all written. Minor edits and up they'll come. Enjoy!

Von Krolock watched from a window as the girl rattled the castle gates and shrieked uselessly against the wind. "Hello? Hello, is anyone there? Hello? Lord Vampire? Please… please let me in…"

Lord Vampire? That was a new one. He was thoroughly curious now, but in case it was a trap of some kind designed to lure him outside, he waited until the cold overcame her and she crumpled. When nobody materialized from the darkness to help her, he took it as proof enough that she was alone, and hurried out to bring her indoors himself.

The girl didn't wake for half an hour, even after he had her laid out on a chaise lounge by a roaring fire, her wet coat and pathetic excuse for boots replaced by warm blankets. When her eyes finally opened, the first thing she did was look around, notice him, and press both hands to her mouth.

"Hush – you're safe here," he assured quickly, before she could start to scream. He rose and moved far away, standing by the window, watching her in the glass. "I found you outside my castle. Are you lost?"

She shook her head, and pulled the blanket tight up to her chin. She was terrified.

He was puzzled, until he realized that he'd moved too fast for her to even see. He sighed. He would have to be more careful. "You are safe here," he repeated. "What's your name?"

"K-K-Katherine."

"Katherine, I won't hurt you. I am Count von Krolock, and I believe you were looking for me." He turned to face her. "Can you tell me why you've come?"

She smiled a little, relaxing. "Good – you are kind," she said. "The stories said all different things about that. I wasn't sure what to believe."

"Ah." Story-hunters made his skin crawl. "Then, you can correct the ones who had it wrong. What else did you want to know – or do you only want to sit and stare at me?"

She cringed, and he kicked himself. "No – forgive me," he said at once. "I don't often have visitors here and I'm afraid I've lost the skill of being polite. Is there… anything I can offer you? Some wine, perhaps?"

She shook her head. "I don't really drink wine – I'm only twelve." She sat up straighter, shivering when a wet lock of hair brushed her neck.

Her neck was very white and very fragile. He looked away from it in a hurry…

But before he knew it he had made his way across the room to kneel by her chair. "Are you feeling better?" he murmured, scooping her hand off her lap to rub it between both of his. "The cold was fierce, tonight."

"I know." Her eyes were wide and unafraid, and she shifted to sit closer to him. "I walked most of the way from the village. My stupid horse got frightened of the woods, and wouldn't take me any further."

"You walked-?" His eyebrows rose. "And in those dreadful boots with holes in them? No wonder you're exhausted." He let go of her hand and crawled down to the end of the chair, so he could tug the blanket up and rub her feet instead. Conveniently this would keep him away from her neck, and from the scent of her breath.

"Ooh – thank you. That feels really nice."

"You're welcome. Now… are you going to tell me why you came here?"

He looked up expectantly and she nodded at him, but since his gaze seemed to make her more nervous he soon dropped his eyes.

"Well… my name is Katherine," she began. "My father is the pastor in town. And in the Christmas season he talks a lot about love, and Jesus… about how Jesus says God's love is supposed to be for everybody."

Headache speared through him at all the talk of God and Jesus, but he grit his teeth and kept his mouth shut.

"Well, and around Christmas we always have to bring things, you know, food and clothes and things, to people who don't have them. But then Father also says, you know, that things aren't important next to God's love, and the spirit of being together, and that at this time we should be especially grateful for our family and the times we have with them. You know. And I thought…" She hesitated.

"You thought?" he prompted absently, trying not to look at her. He could almost smell her blood beneath the skin, so warm and so close…

"And I thought that you're always alone up here," she continued softly. "I thought somebody should come and wish you a merry Christmas for once. Maybe bring you a present. And so I did. It will be Christmas tomorrow, did you know that?"

That surprised him enough to distract him from her blood a moment. "You thought someone should come wish me a merry Christmas?" he repeated. "Me? You thought of me?"

"Yes," she said stubbornly. "Because if we're supposed to be spreading the warmth of God's love, then what better-"

"God and I don't get along very well, my dear," he interrupted. "I am damned. Surely if you've heard any stories at all you know that much."

She crossed her arms. "Well that's no reason. Jesus used to preach to-"

"Please." He held up a hand. "Truly. The name itself is painful to me."

She frowned, at a loss.

"But I am still grateful for your visit," he said. "And I'm touched that you thought of me during your holiday."

"Mm." She smiled again. "I think you're nice," she said.

"I'm glad."

"My grandfather is the man you bit," she said. "Years and years ago. Do you remember? When everybody first promised to stay away from the castle and…" Her eyes widened. "Oh! I didn't think of-… you're not angry that I've come, are you?"

He chuckled. "No, I'm not angry," he said. "I do remember that night. The agreement was only that the village and I would leave one another in peace. I don't consider you a breach of the peace."

"That's good." She smiled at him when he looked up. "But yes, my grandfather was the one. So I've seen the marks he has on his neck... but still he's quite healthy, stronger than any of the other old men, never sick and always in church. So I know you did no harm to him…"

She was hesitant now, almost as though she were asking a question, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. "That's right, I didn't harm him," he said at last, cautiously. "We were sealing an agreement of peace." He waited to see what she wanted.

"So." She sat up straighter and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders, all business. "I think nobody brings you gifts at Christmas, and I wanted to. But I didn't know what you might want, except for this: would you like to bite me?" She tilted her head back.

He dropped her ankle and flew backwards so fast he fell over his cloak. He scrambled to his feet, eyes away from her throat, and crossed the room. "What? What did you just say?" he rasped.

There was no answer, and he peeked into the window. She was sitting with her knees drawn up, holding the blanket tight against her face, hidden up to the eyes. "I'm sorry," she squeaked miserably into it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't be angry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I thought you might like it. I'm sorry. Please don't be angry…"

"No, it's-…" He swallowed. "No," he repeated at last, still facing away. "I'm not angry." He coughed to clear some of the growl out of his voice and explained: "What you hear is… not anger. It's just want, that's all. Just want. You've done nothing wrong."

"Just want?" she echoed, lowering the blanket cautiously. "Then, you do…? Then why did you run away?"

"Because I'm afraid I would hurt you. You're so small. Fragile."

At that she bounced up to her feet. "I am not small and fragile," she declared, hands on her hips. "Look at me: I'm almost thirteen years old, and I'm bigger and stronger than most of the boys I know. I walked all the way here! I am not fragile."

"Forgive me." He tried not to smile. "I meant only that you don't have all that much blood to spare at your age. Bleeding can put you in danger. Do you understand?"

She frowned. "I'm sure I have a little to spare, don't I? Why can't you just have a little?"

He tried to explain without really letting himself think about it, about how she would taste. "It's hard, my dear. Have you ever tried to have just a little of something delicious?" She didn't answer, and only stared at him with more challenge than ever. He sighed. "What you offer is a beautiful gift. But I think…"

He couldn't say yes. But he couldn't bring himself to say no, either. And when he still hesitated, the girl giggled and tugged the collar of her dress down. "Suit yourself," she lilted, almost singing. "But it's probably ve-ry ta-sty…"

It probably was. He laughed, because otherwise he might roar and that would really terrify her. "All right – come here," he rumbled. She came, gliding barefoot across the carpet, smirking and triumphant, and he struggled to hold on to himself. To see her as the little ((morsel)) girl she was and be a ((predator)) gentleman. Even to be considerate of her. "It will hurt a little."

She tossed her head. "I'm not afraid."

"You're not, are you." He looked down at her. She didn't even come up to his chest and he found the idea of swooping down and bending low over her troubling… but if he knelt, then he would be a bit too short to reach her neck. So he picked her up and settled her on his hip, holding her. She rested her head on his shoulder and that left her throat conveniently within inches of his mouth.

His jaws stretched wide, but then he took a breath and closed them on her as gently as possible.

One swift little squeeze and he felt his fangs break her skin. She gasped and tensed against him, clutching at his clothes. But then there was blood on his tongue, blood washing over him and it was all he could pay attention to… but he forbid himself from sucking hard. Instead he rocked her, repeating no over and over to himself and reminding himself that this was a child requiring the utmost care and restraint. He tried to enjoy the taste without really indulging. It was torture, but at the same time it was fascinating to have blood without fear or fighting for a change. And it was delicious and it had been so long…

"It doesn't hurt that badly," she murmured against his shoulder. "You can go on."

But he knew he had pushed his self-discipline far enough for one evening, and he pulled back. "Enough," he said. Talking felt strange with his mouth so wet, and what he really wanted was-

She turned to look at him, and giggled. "You've got it all over your face."

He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look quite this untroubled after being bitten. He bent and put her down before she charmed the control right out of him, and wiped his mouth with his finger so he could lick it. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm."

But he could see… He put his hand to her jaw and turned her head gently. "You've got it on your neck, too," he pointed out, and bent to lick. She let him, giggling even more.

"Ow – that tickles. You're like a puppy," she said, bringing her hand up to thread through his hair as his tongue rasped again and again over the new wounds.

Eventually he stood up again, but she still oozed blood and he couldn't take his eyes off it. "Here," he said, offering his handkerchief. "Cover it up."

She did as she was told, and perched on the edge of the lounge chair waiting for him to come close.

"Thank you," he said as soon as he felt able to talk calmly. "That was the only Christmas gift anybody has given me in many, many years… and I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"You're welcome." She wriggled with pleasure. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I loved it. And I'd like to give you a gift in return. Let me think on it, and I will send something down to the village for you – in secret."

"Oh!" She covered her mouth. "Really?"

"Yes. But nobody will know it came from me. It's probably best that way, I think."

She nodded. "A lot of people are afraid of you."

"I suppose they are."

"And a lot of the girls are in love with you, so it would probably make them jealous."

He frowned. "What? In love with me?"

She nodded again, energetically. "Oh, yes. You didn't know? Do you want to hear? They say – oh it's funny, especially Anna, she's the worst, she says she dreams about you floating through her window at night to kiss her and teach her wicked things. Though she wouldn't tell me what. But they all think you must be terribly handsome, her especially. And she's certain you're going to come carry her off one day."

"That is… it's… no. Truly?"

"Yes. None of the girls know your name though – they only know you as the vampire lord who lives up in the castle – so they make it up for themselves."

He digested that a moment. "Well." He felt calmer now, the blood no longer pounding in his ears, and he pulled up a chair to sit near her. "It seems I have been out of touch. I have an idea: I'll take you back home before dawn, but in the meantime, why don't you tell me what's been happening down in the village?"

"Sure! What kinds of things do you want to hear about?"

"Whatever you'd like to tell."

He regretted almost immediately having said that, because she took him at his word and started prattling as only a girl can. He got her back into her house before dawn broke, but barely.

TBC.