Hello Everyone!

So this idea has been brewing in my head for a while and I was itching to write something about the delectable Vampire Lord, Harkon, ever since he appeared in the game. There was just something about him which caught my attention o.o

Thank you for giving this FanFic a go, I hope that you will enjoy it. I urge you to please leave a review so that I know how I am doing and I would love to hear what you guys think of the story. It will be very appreciated ^.^

Anyway I'll stop my rambling now haha. Enjoy ~

WARNING. CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE, THEMES AND SUGGESTIONS. ADVISABLE AGE WOULD BE 18+

The nipping ice sting pinched at her wrists when she yanked her arms too hard. The chiming scream of metal clashed against the brick wall, and the sickly rattling ringing and scratching of shackles made her quake. A short gasp sprung from her tongue when she saw the heavy metal chains swathed around her limbs, and her breath was snatched away, when she finally peered up. A lump slowly crawled down her throat, as she met the dark, bewitching eyes, from the vicious, malicious creature that perched over her, with a sinful sneer that dripped of poison and thirst, stretching to his pale cheeks…

The cascade of ice rain, spitting out from the grey sky, penetrated the earth and hissed as it hit the ground. The thunder of the ice droplets crashing on rocks, and smashing against the earth, or ripping at the trees, was enough to send any traveller to scurry into an inn or quickly race back home…Home. Where the blistering flickering fire heats your nose and cheeks like a warm hug, when stretching out your neck to smell the burning logs and sickly ashes. The sweet fragrance of honeyed mead wandering like lingering smoke through the corridors and scented rooms. The smell of roasted food, the softness of your bed; the snug embrace of the covers coating you.

If only it was that sweet…

Each ice droplet of rainwater splashed onto the wandering nord's skin and body, ripping at her skin and freezing her bones, making it even harder for the lost nord girl to tread one foot in front of the other. The earth bled beneath her boots, gushing out pools of liquid mud and spitting out clumps of rock and strands of shrivelled grass. Her body quaked, shaking like a ragdoll in the hands of a wilful child, and even tightly folding her wet arms would not curb the cold that ensnared her. It didn't help with the air being so cold. The ice chill of Skyrim was harsh, with the callous breeze whispering through the trees, nipping at bare arms and clinging onto clothes and amour like leeches. Though the chill now was particularly fierce. The ice air ripped the flesh of the shuddering nord girl who strayed outside, pinching at her pale skin and gnawing on her bones with venomous icy teeth.

A whimper slipped from her lips, stifled from the cold air that was difficult to breathe in. Warm tears brimmed her long ebony eyelashes and rolled down her cheeks, dripping from her jaw and chin and falling to her breasts. She had lost count of how many hours she had been walking. Couldn't recall when the rain began to beat down on her. Forgotten about the hunger that ripped inside her gut. Ignored the pain inflicted across her body. She didn't even know where she was going. Couldn't remember why she began to walk in the first place. No weapon. No food. No drink. Nothing but the drenched clothes on her back that scratched at her skin, and the heavy amulet that scuffed against her chest.

Each step was becoming more difficult. Each lift of her leg a tormenting chore. Even keeping her head elevated was becoming difficult to achieve. Her copper hair clung to her cheek, dripping with droplets of rain; heavy like stone, from the water that it soaked up. She could hardly keep her balance as she continued to glumly trudge in the torrential rain that was crumbling her. She lifted her head, heavy puffs of ragged breath spurting from her mouth, looking into the horizon with her clouded vision. Day was crumbling into night before her eyes, and she watched in despair as the land swallowed up the roaring red sun. The whispers of the wind made her head faint, and the quaking of the earth beneath her feet made her dizzy. Was the earth going to collapse into itself? Or was it all just in her head?

She shuddered, craning her neck so that droplets of rainwater crashed onto her face, and spilled down her skin. Her lips parted, so that a droplet splashed onto the tip of her tongue. It didn't help. Without much more warning she felt her body sway, and her head spin like the spiralling of a coin. Her body began to tremble, swamped with a tingling sensation that made her sick. Then her legs gave up on her, and like the falling of a broken tree, she collapsed - her body crashing into the ground with quaking thud that tremored through the thunderous air. She didn't have time to think. Didn't have time to act.

(xxxx)

The clicking of heavy hooves tapping on the gravelled mud was all that could be heard now. The rain had ceased and the moaning breeze had become mute. A majestic horse, with strong shoulders, a beautiful long neck and long legs, had terminated its trotting. Its beautiful brown fur was like the coat of a bear, with splashes of pale ebony tint on its snout and on its socks. A low whine rumbled in its throat as it prodded the girl that lay on the floor, blowing hot breath on the girl's neck and nuzzling her tangled damp red hair with its snout. It neighed again, scraping its hoof in the ground and nudging the girl's shoulder gently with its long muzzle. Its pointed brown ears twitched when the girl moved her finger, slowly lifting her head with her eyes squinting, like the shape sunflower seeds. Her lips parted, and soon her head slammed back to the floor. The horse whined again, crouching down to its knees and laid beside the girl, nudging her waist and arm once again with its snout.

At long last her hand reached up to grasp a handful of the horse hair that felt like straw when her fingers coiled around it. With all her strength she hauled her body onto the horses back, sinking into its torso once the horse stood up and began moving. The creature had no saddle, no reins or rope. Perhaps it was wild. It was nice to think that this beautiful creature could be so free.

The restless nord girl hardly looked up from the horses back, struggling to keep her eyes open as the horse slowly teetered down the path. The night had swallowed up any natural light that would help the red-haired girl see, and the daunting black air shrouded everything it touched. When she did look up, shivers scuttled up her body and the hairs on her arms and neck became erect. Everything was so damn dark! She couldn't see a thing. She cast her eyes over the horse, and hoped that at least it could see where it was it was going. But why did she care? She had nowhere to go to. No one to go to. She was lost, and she was alone. The horse shook its body softly, and snorted through its nose. Well, not entirely alone.

The golden lights that glimmered through the square shaped windows of the Inn that the nord's new friend had took her to, was more than inviting. The honeyed scent of fresh mead could be detected from outside, even if the doors and windows were closed shut. The gentle hymn of a soothing flute echoed off the walls. It looked wonderful. But why wasn't she impressed? She glared at the building with a vague emptiness to her eyes. They were glassy, and swelling with tears. She didn't want to go in, but the growling roars of her stomach was making it an urgent appeal. The gentle horse swayed its head and kicked its feet into the ground, moving closer to the Inn and nudging the nord to get off its back.

She couldn't help the minor grin that broke in her lips. "Alright," she croaked, patting the horse's neck with the palm of her hand. The horse fell to its knees so that it was easier for her to slide off, and she did, dusting off the speckles of mud off her saturated clothes and folding her arms to her chest as she stumbled to the door.

The inn was pretty much empty. The argonian maid smacking a broom on the carpet in the centre of the hall glared at her, almost hissing as her piercing yellow eyes glued to her. The bard, dressed in an attire with a golden tint to it, tugged his flute from his lips and stopped to gape. The women at the bar, with her locks of brown hair – soon turning white – ceased scrubbing glasses and locked her pale eyes on the girls face. The one that caught her eye, as she stumbled in the door, plastered in rainwater with a tangled mess of red hair sticking to her skin, was the figure sitting in the corner, twisting a septum in his fingers, with a darkness shrouding his face and body. She couldn't tell if he was looking at her, or not.

A gust of breath slipped from her lips, as a dreaded lump slowly made its way up her throat. She coughed, brushing her arms with the tips of her fingertips and scanning around her like a timid child. The bard lifted his flute to his lips and merrily began playing again, still glancing at the red-haired nord with the corner of his eye. The maid when back to sweeping the floor, snapping her head away from the glance of the nord girl, and the women at the bar gave a warm smile and began to move towards her. "Come on in child," she urged graciously with the wave of her hand, "did you get caught in the rain? By the eight, you're positively drenched, come in, come in, have some hot food and a glass of juniper wine. It's delicious. Perfect for warming the soul. There's nothing like a glass of wine, or mead, and some good music by the fire. Now, what can I get you?"

The women took the girl by the shoulder and guided her inside, directing her to a chair beside the fire. The girl glanced over her shoulder and shot another glimpse at the figure in the corner. Was he looking at her? Still he twisted that septum in his fingertips.

"Hello, mam?"

The girl snapped her head up, her eyes flooded with confusion.

"What can I get you?" the women softly asked with a smile, arching her back slightly so she was more at her level.

"I…" the girl stuttered, clearing her throat with a sharp muffled cough, "I have no money."

"None? My dear… oh, but I can't possible leave you without nothing. I'll get you something on the house. Food and drink. I'll be right back dear."

The nord smiled, hugging her body with her arms as she sat awkwardly in her chair. She could feel his eyes on her. Burning into her skull. Searching for her soul so that he could wrench it out and unearth all of her secrets. She couldn't dare look upon him for the third time, could she? Yet subconsciously, she peered over her shoulder again, glaring at the figure who appeared to glare right back her. She shuddered at the shivers that flushed up her spine. Who was he? Not even his face could be made out…

"Excuse me? Hello?"

Jumping out of her skin, the nord girl snapped her body back and peered up at the women who was clutching onto a plate of food and a glass of red wine that smelt sweet, like the perfume of fresh fruit and flowers.

"Good heavens," she chuckled, handing her the plate of food and glass, "are you lost in another world there dear?"

"Who is that man?" she whispered, fearful that he might be listening.

"The one in the corner? I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that one dear. He came in no long before you. Didn't say a word. I brought him some wine but he hasn't touched it, so I've just left him. He's seems like a mysterious character doesn't he?"

"Indeed."

"Didn't even get a look of his face – covered by that black hooded he was wearing. Never seen anyone like him, his manner is curious. There wasn't a soul in here, and I was about to close up when he stormed in, with the blustering wind behind him, dragging an awful chill with him that made your teeth chatter. I went to speak but he silenced me with a toss of a few septums. He's been sitting in that corner ever since."

The nord girl couldn't help but let her eyes wander over to him for another time, his presence was mysterious, chilling, and unsettling. She concentrated on her breath, uneasy about the set of eyes that were searing into her skull.

"Oh look at me rambling," the women gasped with a chuckle, flattening her clothes, and waving her hand "Enjoy your food and drink mam. Holler if you need anything."

"Thank you."

The woman left with a smile, retreating back to the bar, to whip out a cloth and start scrubbing. The girl placed the plate on her lap, slowly biting the harsh piece of meat and gnawing on the overcooked vegetables. She coughed and quickly grasped the wine and took a sip. A twinge of repulsion came over her face. She was never too keen on alcohol to begin with, but the taste of this made her tongue curl. She settled for the bread, placing the plate on the floor beside her feet and chewing on a loaf, nibbling the corners slowly – not really in the mood to eat much.

"Mikheal." The women beckoned from the bar, twisting a white rag in a mug, "you can go, it's getting late."

"Thanks mam."

The bard placed down his flute and skipped over to the bar, snatching a bottle of mead and a loaf of bread from the counter that had been left out for him. He muttered something to the women and she laughed, shaking her head and grabbing her own waist with one hand as she wiped the counter once again with the cloth.

The abrupt bang of a door made everyone in the inn jolt. Everyone except the figure that sat secluded at the back. The door swung ajar and the moaning of the breeze hissed through the doorway, sending in gusts of ice air that gave you Goosebumps. Two slender figures dressed in black stood in the doorway, black hoods covering their faces, with their hands hidden behind their backs. The heavy blasts of wind, and the biting air didn't bother them. They didn't even flinch to the cold.

"I'm sorry, but were closing." The woman at the bar exclaimed, an apprehensive unsteadiness to her crackled voice, "and we have no more rooms."

"Oh we don't want a room," one figure hissed, with a chilling chuckle hurdled at the end of his words. The nature of which he spoke was quite high-class, each word, each letter was like hymn, and had to be pronounced perfectly. Who was he trying to impress? What did he want?

"Well…" the women started, anyone could sense the restlessness that was bubbling inside of her - the disquiet hanging of her tongue and making her stutter, snatching the words away from her tongue before they could leave her lips. She lifted her head, and began to amble around the bar, "we're not serving food either. So, you should be on your way."

"Without collecting what we came for?" the figure teased. Laughing again and stepping inside, swaying on his heels with an un-nerving predatory manner to each flick of his boot. His comrade followed, bowing his head so his face could not be caught in the light.

Before the woman could project another word, not even a minor whisper, he was at her, traveling faster light. The woman shrieked as the man who address her slammed her body into the counter, wrapping his fingers around her neck and perching over her body as she wept and squealed for mercy. The other figure flew towards the argonian maid, who didn't have a chance to squawk before he silenced her. He snapped her neck as easily as a twig, and rushed towards the bard, lifting him in the air by the scruff of his neck and hissing like a snake as he toyed with him.

The red-haired nord flung up from her seat, rushing to the door, panting and gasping for breath, unable to inhale enough breath to fill her lungs as panic consumed her.

"Where are you going?" the monster holding the whimpering woman growled. When she glimpsed at his face terror infested her. His pale skin, an almost grey – the same colour you would find on a corpse. The daunting razor teeth that poked out like knifes as his lip curled into a snarl. Worst of all – the eyes! Burning like a roaring flame, that was as red as blood. Those very eyes would make any man tremble. Cause any mother to faint from despair when their natural, flourishing eyes rested on those callous terrifying, burning orbs for too long.

"I'll collect her." A voice chuckled. It was the very figure that had been watching her. The dark shadow that tried to look into her soul, with the eyes that burned into her flesh as she sat in that chair only a few seconds ago.

She knew that these horrific creatures had crawled from the fiery depths of oblivion. Scratching out the earth and tainting anything good and pure. She could not let them catch her. What would become of her if they did? It would not be Sonvgard that awaits. Death will be no privilege they will grant. They are the very daemons that taint your soul, and trap you in the darkness. She could not, she would not allow that to happen to her. After all she been through, all she had seen on this land, she knew she deserved more than that.

So she ran, swiftly swivelling her body around and rushing out that door. She wished she had some weapon, anything, and something to defend herself with. Even something to help the two poor victims inside. A wave of guilt passed over her, swooping over her mind like a dark cloud. Was she doing the wrong thing? Should she have tried to help? But how could she? With no weapon, and being too weak to fight anyway, it would have been futile.

The thunderous whines of a horse and the clatter of hooves, brought a sigh of relief to burst from her lips. At least now she might have a chance. The beautiful creature galloped over to her, distress flooding in its glimmering bright eyes. Clasping onto a handful of its mane, she quickly leapt onto its back, wondering where she got the strength to jump up so quickly.

"Come back here red!"

There was no need to tap the creature's belly, as it hurtled of almost instantaneously. The wind that blown in her face made her red hair spiral of in all mad directions, making her copper hair look like a wild flickering flame. The pace at which her heart was thumping against her chest made her feel sick; she was certain that it would burst of from her ribcage, if not that, she would fall into a state of unconsciousness and collapse from the charging horse.

That didn't happen at all. Instead, the red-haired girl was flung into the air, hurdling off the horse as it jerked to its two hind legs, and crashing down onto the ground with a heavy thud that triggered a stifled grunt to leave her lips. Automatically her hand rushed to her neck, grasping onto her amulet that she held so dear to her heart. Thank the divines. She still had the amulet.

The screams of the horse made a wail of horror erupt from her lips. She looked up to see the horse on its hind legs, kicking and whining with a red glow leaving its body. It when was she saw two figures in front of the creature, with a pale wave of red spurting from their palms onto the horse, did she become more fearful.

"No!" the girl wailed, trying to stumble to her feet, but a pair of ice cold hands, rigid and calloused, prevented her from moving, locking her in a stone-like embrace and keeping her pinned. One final squeal exploded from her lips before she collapsed to the floor, her head ringing and pounding from the impact of something smashing across her skull. Everything around her dissolved into a black fog, until there was nothing left for her to see.

(xxxxx)

Her head was still pounding when her eyes fluttered open. Her own breath echoed loudly in her ears, deep and slow. She gritted her teeth, from the sudden stabbing pain that lanced at the back of her skull. How hard was she hit? How long was she out for? A wave of shivers masked the nord's body. It was a too familiar custom for Skyrim to endure the cold. The winters hit the land with a harsh blow, delivering a clump of snowstorms and penetrating showers of rain, or the strong ghastly gusts of heavy wind with each occurring day. It was never unusual to find yourself lost in a blanket of teeth-chattering snow up to your knees, or become stuck in a waterfall of ice rain that rolled down your cheeks and drenched your clothing. Though the nights were the worst. Too long in this cold, and you would soon find your limbs falling numb and your skin turning blue.

The whimpering muffled sobs of shivering hostages tremored through the cold ebony night air and moaned like sad hymns of plea through the faint grey mist that hung above the damp grass and the dank earth. Quaking nords knelt to the floor and hung their heads to their chests as swift silhouettes encircled them like sharks. Some were blubbering a load of nonsense, or praying to the divines to liberate them from whatever terror they had been ensnared into. Though some didn't make a peep. Standing like blank statues as they glared into the blackened air with a horrid emptiness in their drooping eyes. It was if something had been switched of inside their heads. As if their very soul had been viciously ripped from their limp bodies, leaving them motionless and detached, like robots that were neither dead nor living. They didn't twitch a limb, or bat an eyelid whenever the dark, unnerving figures swiftly flew past them, like ghosts of the night.

The young nord girl on the end of the row of prisoners, refused to make a peep. She would not let a single whimper or squeal or squeak slip from her trembling lips which she desperately tried to keep sealed. Her body juddered, rattling like a doll as she bowed her head to the floor, casting her almond-shaped eyes on the prisoners beside her who sobbed or remained still. Her eyes focused on one of the few that didn't move or squawk. No light was in the hollow eyes. It was dull, like a grey old sheet of withered paper from an untouched old book that reeked of mould and dust. It was if their soul, the light inside of their hearts, had freed itself from the torments of its body, and instead retreated to Sovngarde. The young nord girl suddenly felt less pity for them, and instead a more sorrowful sympathy went out to the blubbering nords, with tears dripping from their glassy eyes and with amulets of faith dangling from their fingertips. Her assurance was not in amulets of various faiths, divines, or gods, as ever you wish to name them. She instead coiled her fingertips around an amulet with a more personal value. It was not an amulet of Talos, or Akatosh or Arkay, or any other amulet of the divines, it was simply her amulet. The glimmering sapphire stone, with its precise silver border, suspended from a strong embodied leather strap, was the amulet that she held close to her heart. She clutched the stone in her fingertips, and sealed her eyes shut - only now realising that they were wet from tears. It was possible that she was the youngest nord of the bunch, though that would only be down to her looks. Her radiant skin matched the cream soft shine of the moon, and her vibrant copper hair that spiralled in thick loose waves to her shoulders, was like the gentle glow of a flickering flame of a campfire. Her bright eyes were soft and captivating – one eye being a beautiful ocean blue, with the other a vivid emerald green. Her whole complexion was one of a porcelain doll. There was no doubt about it, she was exquisite.

The prisoners hadn't been kneeling for too long, but already the cold and caused their legs to become numb, and they stumbled to their feet, when viciously instructed to do so, like toddlers learning how to walk. They expected that they were by a dock, or a small boat as they had been listening to the crying of the sea for what seemed like forever. At last the prisoners were piled onto the boat, packed close together, shoulder to shoulder, with the rough wood of the boat scratching the feet of those who had lost their shoes when abducted from their homes, streets or inns. There were seven in total, though three of them didn't even appear to be alive, and the last squeals they made was when the black cotton bag went over their heads.

(xxxx)

There was something about the air that made the blind staggering hostages shiver and whine, it suffocated them, chocking them as if a set of cold hands had swathed around their necks and twisted their flesh until they wheezed or squawked. The sound of the hostages' own breath was making them uneasy. It was all they could hear, and all they could see was the knitted black bag over their heads. Why was this happening?

"Well take the bloody bags of their heads," snapped one of them, a startling hostility bouncing in her growl like voice. "They're here now, aren't they?"

"What has got you so annoyed? Hmm?" another voice teased, a calming pompous voice that was still as startling as the other.

"Because I'm starving that's why! Now hurry up and get the cattle down there before I spill their blood all over this floor!"

"Temper, temper." The high-class pretentious voice sneered, clicking his tongue as he ripped the bags off of the alarmed nords' heads. They gasped and panted, weeping and begging. The red-haired nord girl was last to be free from the mask of darkness. Unlike the others she did not wail, or beg or sob. She bit onto her tongue and remained silent and she reluctantly followed the crowd that were being led deeper into the dark depths of the castle.

Dim candles were spotted around the border of the corridor, with grey stone statues beside the grand doors behind her. They were guided towards the spiralling steps that led down into a great hall, were two long wooden dining tables were placed, with gothic chairs surrounding them. At the back of the hall, mounted on a stone stage, was another table, with a throne in the centre, tall and pointed with a red drape cast over the rich oak surface. Two chairs were positioned either side of it. As the girl cast eyes over the tables she was polluted with horror. Moaning in agony, twitching in pain as fiendish creatures buried their heads into them, were nords. They were lashed in the centre of the table, dripping with warm blood, plastered in blood-stained rags as the malicious monsters sank their teeth into their veins - drinking their life fluids until they drew their last breath.

It suddenly came to her, like a shock of electricity. Why hadn't she seen it before? She was blind. Her eyes had opened for the first time and now she knew the horrifying unimaginable truth. Vampires! This was a castle for vampires! By the eight, which meant…

A sharp shriek erupted from the girl as a set of calloused frozen hands snatched a clump of her copper hair and bent her neck to his waist. He looked as if he was nord once, but now he was the living dead. His ginger hair and beard where long, with his glowing red eyes matching the colour of the blood that was splashed on the floor. He dressed in a red gothic gown-like armour that seemed to be the attire that most vampires in the hall were wearing. The vampire curled his lip, purposely showing his pointed fangs as he hissed "this one smells heavenly! This one is mine! I demand the first taste!"

The girl toppled to the floor, landing on her hands and knees as another vampire flung him off of her. This vampire had been once a dunmer, perhaps a high elf. Now as a vampire, his skin was pale and grey, with his hair as white as snow. His cheek bones were high and defined, and his frame was thin and bony. He growled, a cat like hiss, with his teeth dripping with poison, as he barked "how dare you have the audacity to say things such as that! You do not have the power to declare such demands!"

"Are you threatening me Vingalmo? My instincts tell me to never trust an elf!"

"Your instincts are that of a dog, Orthjolf. Now stand aside before things turn ugly."

"Perhaps if you move out my way, elf, I won't tear your arms of!"

Just as they were about to leap for one another, a thunderous voice trembled through the hall. "Enough!" this voice barked. It was a calm voice, but even more chilling. The red-haired girl craned her neck and scanned around her. A man stood on the upper floor, mounted on the balcony, gazing down to the glimpse at the hall. All the vampires ceased their chatter and turned to look upon him, bowing their heads, and one or two even kneeling when spotting him there. The girl looked ahead, but couldn't see the man who spoke. A weird wave came over her, were curiosity plucked at her brain and made her squirm, ceasing her breath. She wanted to know who this phantom was. Know his name. Perhaps see his face. For a second any troubles or distress that clouded her mind vanished, and instead focused on the delicious mystery man that everyone grew silent to.

She didn't even acknowledge that she was holding her breath when the phantom spoke again, his words like melted gold, with the rich gilded accent of each word triggering shivers to scuttle up her skin. "I will not have any pure-blood members of my court, to fall to the filthy ways of the feral animals that dare share our name. If you wish to join the pitiful night-walkers of Skyrim, then you have my vouch to leave and join them, in a cave. I expect more from advisors, much more. Do not let your hunger and thirst take its toll on you. If you wish to stay here I advise you to rid yourself of your insolences and become more decent. Am I clear?"

"Of course my lord," replied the elf, Vingalmo, with a bow, "It shall not happen again."

Just like that he vanished from the balcony, and the clatter of conversations began to rumble in the hall. The nord stayed on the floor, with her locks of tangled copper hair cascading down the border of her face. She ran her tongue across her dessert dry lips and clenched her teeth together. In the trauma of being tossed away, the vampire seemed to drop his dagger. He was still glaring viciously at the elf with piercing eyes, and didn't seem to notice it slipped out from his sheath. Isn't a vampires senses exemplified? Gnawing onto her inner cheek, she slyly reached out her arm and swiftly snatched the dagger from the floor, quickly hiding the blade in her clothes, carefully slipping it down her torso so that she didn't have to hide it in her arms.

The elf marched over to the girl, snatching her by the shoulder and roughly yanking her to her feet. She grunted from the force of his hand around her arm. "I'll ensure that you don't get a sip of her blood," he hissed, with a taunting sneer, "perhaps if you control your thirst. You may find out was she tastes like. But… I doubt that will happen, do you?"

"One of these days I'm going rip off your legs elf!" the riled vampire yapped before storming into an inner room. The girl gritted her teeth when he chuckled and tossed her back into the line. How dare he speak of her like that! Treating her as if she was a piece of meat! She could feel her blood boiling in her veins, and feel the heat radiating from her rosy cheeks. She wondered if the vampires could sense it, as they all began to gape at her with a startling hunger growing in their deepening dark red eyes.