The storyline, the character development, and new characters are my intellectual property.

This is a Fantasy take.

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Warning: This story contains some violence, not too graphic. It alludes to a rape, but after it happened, with minimal descriptions. This as many of my stories, whether fantasy, or not, contain a dosage of realism when related to social conditions of the time. I like to research historical and social elements and conform somehow.

Proud and Prejudiced

Prologue

He had promised never to fall into temptation, he knew the dangers, and in this case, the attraction was too great to resist. He tried, but she called, a beckon to welcome him to her paradise. In the end, his efforts to resist were futile because her scent and life force had lured him with a siren's song.

At the Beginning- A Beckon

The young heir and his friend, the steward's son, sat in the curricle.

"You can stay and wait for your father. I'll be back in a tick, I'm going to look at the new caps, maybe my father will buy me one," his friend told him as he jumped down.

He looked at the street when a pretty toddler caught his eye. An elegantly attired blond man held her while he strolled the main street, just across from him.

The young lad seized by an unusual impulse jumped out the three-seat carriage and ran towards the man. He had nearly reached him when the little girl pointed at him, waved her hand, and smiled.

Her shining eyes provoked the strangest of reactions, namely his heart squeezed, and the powerful tug made his chest ache. His chest hurt severely, he couldn't breathe, and a wave of dizziness overcame him. The world was fading, and before all went black, his legs went from under him.

His father alerted by their small terrier, hurried and barely caught him in his arms before he went down. Meanwhile, his friend ran out of the shop hearing the commotion, watched and worried because he had disobeyed by not keeping his friend company. It was not the first time that he didn't do as he was told.

Why must I be his guard? I am just as good as he is, even better. It isn't my fault if his majesty is a ninny. Now my dad will tan my hide because of him. It is his entire fault if my Lord gets mad me. Bloody fool, cannot leave him for a minute. While the boy's mind reeled in anger, he was neither moving nor running to help.

The boy's father picked up the tall, lanky boy, "Son talk to me," he begged anxiously, but his son was out. Lovingly, he carried the boy close to his chest, his face fraught with anxiety. His hands were trembling, nothing could happen to his heir, the future of his people. He looked around and finally laid him on a bench next to the sweetshop. At that very moment, the man carrying the little girl turned around, seemingly at the child's insistence. They were coming while she pointed and chattered loudly.

"May I be of assistance?" He asked clearly concerned, his voice was slightly accented yet educated.

Meanwhile, clerks, shopkeepers, customers, and store owners gathered around the bench, all wanting to see the young master, concerned for his health. Many worried and wondered if another tragedy had befallen the beleaguered family.

The stranger placed the child next to him and crouched on his knees, ready to assist. The toddler approached the fallen boy, she gave him a big and loud smooch on his forehead ancaressed it clumsily, "Kiss hoit 'an makey berer," she spoke in a stern and clear squeaky voice.

To the father's surprise, the serious boy opened his eyes and grinned from ear to ear at seeing the little girl, but when he stretched his hand to touch her, she wailed so loud that several onlookers and the two men, covered their ears. "Up, up, Tiki up," she climbed the man's leg with great urgency. Just at that moment, the man was called from a moving carriage that stopped to let him in.

"Sir, we must hurry up, you know that we cannot stay long," a man wearing a hooded cloak obscuring his face called, and the words that followed were spoken in a foreign tongue, in hurried words not understood by anyone else.

They appeared to be in a great hurry and nothing much was else was said; he was being prompted to climb aboard the waiting carriage with the toddler. She was still crying, and before getting aboard, she turned and haughtily pointed her small finger, "No ba boy, no lik tuchey, me pincess!" She stated haughtily.

The boy's father let out a hearty guffaw and raised his eyebrows in wonder. The boy sat on the ground dazed and frowning, and with the back of his hand he dried the tears he couldn't stop from coming, as he looked at the carriage driving away at a fast gallop.

"Father," he spoke just loud enough for his father to hear, "I don't know why it hurts so, I just wanted her to stay. It feels as if I am breaking inside." And the tears kept coming. The sobs were heart-wrenching, his body was cold to the touch, and tremors ran along his body.

His father only said, "Oh dear, oh my, my." Lost for words, he bit his lip and shook his head, his forehead wrinkled with worry.

He looked at the ground, bent, and picked up a shiny object, "She dropped it," he said and gave the boy a small glowing disk. It was somehow transparent, with an engraved monogram. ''Don't lose it." The boy heard the warning in his mind.

"My Lord, what happened? I had left for a minute to look for you," the steward's son lied; he often did it, and his friend was too distraught to contradict him.

The lord missed his sly smile, busy carrying his son to the curricle. Before climbing, the steward's son pocketed the shiny pin fallen from the girl's head near the shop. He had noticed that it held several hairs tangled around it, my treasure. The smile got wider. I'll find her, and the hairs will make the girl mine, my very own. He thought. He was always one step ahead.

The father commanded a party to find the destination of the foreign carriage within minutes of the occurrence, but not a trace of the hurried strangers was ever seen, and he forever regretted his decision. He kept saying he should have chased them that same instance just as his logic had dictated.

During the short time that it took to get a team to chase the carriage, it had vanished into thin air. Further inquiries and a thorough investigation bore no fruit; they had just disappeared.

All they knew was that the carriage had stopped to get the horses fed and watered, and one of the occupants had picked up food to eat away.

The foreigners were all unusually tall and fair and dressed in finery. One thing was exceptional, the stately, lavish appointed carriage bore not seals, but the rare blond wood was extensively carved. Many agreed the wheels shone brightly as if they hadn't touched the dusty road.

That evening after the boy talked to his uncle and his father, he learned that he had met 'the one,' a perfect match who would make him happy.

Sadly nothing came out of it, a lot of good the knowledge did him. After a while, everyone agreed that it was hopeless since nobody knew who she was or where had they come from. Albeit of his youth, the boy understood the implications of having found a match and lost it at the same time.

Though he wasn't entirely human, he wasn't a monster or a vampire, but his kind thrived on blood, a fact he learned early on. The Roman soldiers who found a few of them called them Lamia, meaning blood drinker; while others, later on, called them vampires, although neither was right. The soldiers harmed many of them, but not for long, and soon they became just as a story, a tale that only a few believed.

Not that they needed blood to survive, it wasn't like that; and while it was true the blood of their enemies made them stronger and supreme warriors, they never drank enough to kill or hunt for blood. It was simpler; they thrived in the blood of their beloved spouse if the one ever accepted them; as for the blood of their enemies, it made them powerful, so why waste it.

There were others like him. He came from a long line of males cursed with his blood, every male was, and sometimes females were equally afflicted. Their exact origins had been lost during a conflict thousand of years before. Of course, there were oral records and those were preserved, but they were far from complete or accurate. As far as they knew, there were no others like them; albeit some thought they had become separated during those Dark Years when the wars raged. There were always discussions that they were not alone, but it was mere speculation.

Like all of the males, he had another form besides his human one. In his other self, he was made out of darkness and shadows and blended with the night, a time of day preferred by his people. Their human bodies were altered at birth, a more permanent disguise of their differences; even those who served them couldn't see their differences.

Because nobody outside their kind knew of their existence, they wanted to keep it that way; thus no outsiders were accepted into the fold, and only a few exceptions were known. Their experiences with the Romans dictated their need for secrecy.

His kind was able to transform energy obtained from the streams, and basically from all around, but none would release magical pheromones nor enthralled the one they were fated to love; as legends would have it, if only. In reality, as a rule, they knew little about romance.

To make matters worse, it was often the case that the one they loved usually didn't return their feelings, much less wished to marry them. If one of the young man's brethren could get his beloved to reciprocate the love offered, they lived a very long and prosperous life; otherwise, their lifespan was shortened.

His uncle was an excellent example of the later, he had found his beloved, and after a lengthy pursuit, she had fallen for him. He shone with good health and was happy, not like his father and others like him. His father loved his wife, but she wasn't his first choice. There was a family council who had to approve the choice of spouses, and they only wanted descendants from the older ones. In the heir's case, the rules would strictly be enforced because he was the only son.

The day he met his beloved, he had known that she was too young for him, and his rational mind grasped the concept, however, neither he nor his beast understood it or liked the idea. Moreover, both he and his beast wished for her presence every day, for a while.

Yes, he'd known how his beast felt, even back then. It was during those days when his inner beast announced his presence. The moment he heard the clear and distinct voice, he became fully aware of the real entity residing inside of him and wanting to be let out. He understood the facts, he and his beast wished for her and often dreamed of disobeying if they should find her.

The beast was he, yet it wasn't. He'd just turned eight years old when his father had explained that one-day soon, 'he' would 'talk' and would try to force his desires upon the human mind.

''My son, I must warn you," his father's eyes were mischievous, and the boy could see the bluish rim around the pupils thru the veneer of their disguise, "Some alter egos are more vocal than others and like to stir up trouble. Be aware and be careful you are no led like a horse; if so, just don't drink the water" He explained and laughed. His father was right; days later he heard his other half.

Why are we just waiting for others to find her? If I lead during the night hours we could find her and bring her to live with us; allow me to make my presence felt. That was Shadow. His heart was so loud that he could hear the blood pumping. His beast wanted to find her, but it was hopeless. His uncle had emphatically pointed it out, thatmuch later he would find the reasons behind his uncle's assertion.

After a while, he stopped thinking about her. He later reasoned something had been done to him to help him forget, thus with time, the memory faded away. The memory came back the very same day he became of age, and the need to find her became his reason for storyline , the character development, and new characters are my intellectual property.