Seeing a smile, even if it was but a flicker, had made every sharp barb, ever backhanded insult almost worth the sting. My mysterious host, even despite his fangs, had a truly beautiful smile. It was a shame he did not put it on display more often.

Dinner was finished by the time I tore my eyes up from my long fingernails when the same gravely voice caressed my ear. "Follow me."

The command took me by surprise- while I wanted to ask why, not directly, I approached the question a different way, "You wish me to accompany you?" There had been a note of excitement that felt out of place. Even when the words replayed in my head like a music box, why did I find myself pining to hear what I knew wouldn't be his answer?

"I do not want you poking around my castle." That had been what I had anticipated, but not the reply I had wanted. I didn't quite know what I had wanted- maybe a joke? Another smile?

I replied by unfastening my heavy cloak and laying it over the back of one of the chairs, sauntering over to the door to wait for the mysterious stranger to whisk us away to another part of his castle.

"Why is it you call this castle yours? If memory serves, you did not argue with me when I said the castle belonged to you when we first met. Is this not Dracula's castle, or do you simply claim it is yours because he is no longer alive?" I'd been wondering this very question since I'd entered- Dracula had been gone for some time, and I'd found it odd, up until recently, why bandits or thugs had not taken up residency here.

I could feel the tension crackle in the air before I heard the stranger huff tiredly- perhaps I'd asked too many questions. Thankfully, my worry was put to rest when he responded, his pace never slowing, "I call it my castle as Dracula was my father. With him gone, it thus has fallen into my care and charge."

I wish I could have said that I'd been anticipating this new information, but when the words filled my ears and buzzed about, it rooted me. For a time, I stood frozen staring after my pale acquaintance- was he truly the son of Dracula?

The golden-haired man ceased his walk and paused to look back at me, that same questioning expression painted across his handsome features. As we stared at one another speechlessly, I, for what felt like was the first time, earnestly examined the mysterious man. I knew I had never seen Dracula, but the man before me did not remind me, save for his proclivity to impale the corpses of his enemies, of the vampiric count. "Was your father truly Dracula?" I croaked hoarsely, not finding my voice quite yet.

"That is what I just stated, yes," the exasperated tone in the vampire's voice denoted his impatience. Whether I realized it or not, I'd begun to wade onto treacherously thin ice, but this fact had not registered yet as my mind was fixated on Bess. The words the old woman, spirit, wild figment of my imagination or whatever she'd been, repeated again and again inside my mind.

Why was it, I gulped as I stepped closer to the beautiful man, that he resembled Lisa? Could he be her son? I stopped inches from him, looking up into his searching amber gaze, for the answers I already knew.

"You-" I breathed, drawing in my bottom lip as I attempted to collect my thoughts before I continued, "-you said your mother was human, yes?"

The frustration that bloomed between us snapped like a whip as I realized I'd asked too many questions, and the ice beneath my feet cracked, plunging me into the cold depths, that I had overstepped his limit.

"Yes!" The man barked, causing me to stumble back cautiously, my eyes transfixed on the long gleaming fangs in his mouth, "Does your incessant questions have a point or are you simply attempting to change my mind on sparing your miserable life?!"

Frightened, like a rabbit running away from a wolf, I began to quiver. "N-No!" I quickly blurted, raising my hands again, this time in an attempt to shield myself, "I-I just knew your mother, Lisa!"

Like water dousing a flame, so too was my host's anger extinguished and, in its stead, was sorrow that stretched on into the dark depths of eternity.

We stood there again, silent, as we allowed the proverbial dust to settle around us. I was already questioning whether I'd signed my death warrant when that already familiar deep voice inquired of me but a single question.

"How did you know her- my mother?"

I had not realized every muscle in my body was tightly wound until I felt the stiffness ease, and I lowered my hands. "Lisa helped deliver my younger siblings." The memory flashed across my mind like a storm, igniting brief images of the night the twins had been born to fill my head. "If it had not been for your mother and her aid, all three would have been lost."

My words seemed to extend across the distance that separated us and caress the fair-haired man's smooth cheek. His eyes had not left me once, and I found myself falling into their fathomless liquid depths again, "I will always remain eternally grateful to her."

The look which crossed the man's face next was as if the loving caress that my words had offered, now sucker-punched him in the gut.

I had wanted, more than anything, for him to say something, even if it was to bellow at me again, but he didn't. Instead, he turned from me and walked away. I stood fixed in place, feeling a leaden weight press down across my shoulders and threaten to crush me. I was sorry, so profoundly repentant for whatever I had said, that I wanted to beg for his forgiveness, but I didn't. I couldn't. Instead, like the dutiful house guest, I should have been since his invitation, I chased after.

We continued to walk wordless, side by side through the halls of the castle until we came upon a narrow winding stairwell, which we followed down into a basement- no, a wine cellar? The majority of the bottles had been damaged, broken open as they'd been toppled over. As I looked around the damp room, wondering briefly if any had survived.

My question was answered when the stoic stranger marched forward, leaving me to stand beside the threshold as he collected a single green bottle. Quietly I watched my host appraise it with a scrutinized glare before he turned, and we were ascending the stairs again- likely to return to the kitchen.

My tongue burned with the desire to apologize for my earlier behavior- I had never intended to cause the sullen man strife. Damn my curiosity! I began to berate myself for how I had acted- I was no better than Katherine and her imbecilic fancies.

We were once more within the warm kitchen, the savory smell of garlic, fresh fish, and rosemary wafted through the air like a hypnotic perfume. My stomach was the first to break the silence with an audible grumble.

My cheeks immediately ignited with warmth as I knew the beautiful man had heard my hungry belly's unladylike demand for food. I didn't want to look, I knew I'd die there on the spot from embarrassment, but I had to know for sure. Finally, forcing myself to see if he was watching me, I lifted my chin. I was unsurprised when I caught the golden-eyed vampire's gaze flick to me once and then away again.

Oh god, I thought as I began to fidget anxiously with the frayed sleeve of my undershirt, he'd heard it!

I had begun chiding myself again when the sound of clattering dishes filled my ears, and I couldn't resist the urge to follow the sound with my stare. I watched, lost, as Dracula's son began filling not one but two plates. While I salivated at the thought of eating far better than the charred white fish and bland turnips I'd consumed the night before, I felt my stomach twist in shame.

I continue to follow his movements, watching as he floated across the room to set one plate at the head of the table and the other to his left. He finished by placing two sets of dining ware, a cloth napkin, and filling two long-stemmed glasses with white wine.

I'm suddenly struck dumb. Do I say thank you, or do I apologize for assuming the other setting is free for me?

"I-" my voice finally returns after a moment, my fingers still picking at a loose string on my undershirt, "What is this?" Internally I roll my eyes- was that honesty the best I could come back with?

"It's supper."

Of course, it was, I had eyes! My tongue burned to reply my internal thoughts, but I forced myself to swallow them and then shook my head twice before I forged onward, "Why?"

I couldn't bring myself to look up at him again; I knew that if I did, I'd crumble into a pile of ash from the scorching embarrassment I could feel igniting my body in invisible flame.

"Why what? Are you not hungry?"

For the briefest of moments, so quick it rivaled that of a single beat from a hummingbird's wing, did a note of hurt hang off the end of my acquaintance's question; I forgot my shame.

"N-no! I am, it's just-" I struggle to find the words, "I can't pay you. I mean, for the meal."

The man's irritation knocks into me like a blast of frigid arctic air as I hear him huff and watch from behind the curtain of my ebony lashes, as he crosses his arms again.

"I never expected repayment," he pauses to suck in a breath, his voice soft as he continues, "instead, I had hoped to repay you."

What? Was my mind playing tricks on again, or had I heard him correctly?

My head snaps up so quickly I think I'll fall over.

"For what?!" I squeak surprised, the warmth from earlier reigniting beneath my ivory skin and filling my head with a million questions.

The same breath of a smile returns to his lips, and I feel myself wheeze- I must be dreaming!

"For your almost enjoyable company."

"My almost enjoyable company?" I repeat before I pause to drop my head to hide my smile. " Careful," I tease, finally lifting my face to flash a cheeky grin, "that was almost a compliment."

A soft, throaty chuckle- not one of bitterness, or humorlessness but of genuine joy, issues past his pale lips. "Please, don't make me reconsider doing so again."

I didn't sully the pureness of this moment with idle chatter or any more witty jokes- not after hearing a kindness I thought didn't exist here.

Dinner had progressed smoothly in relative silence. I didn't mind it now- in fact; I cherished every second we sat there side by side, eating our meals. It was nice to have someone there.

I wondered as we ate if Dracula's son felt the same. If the same thoughts that filled my head, ran through his too? Occasionally I'd steal a glance up over the edge of my glass or peek up from my supper to see if his face denoted the answers to my unspoken questions. Much to my dismay each time I looked, I'd find his features unreadable.

To be privy to his private thoughts even for a moment, I would have paid anything to know.

My acquaintance was the first to finish dinner. However, instead of clearing away his plate, he waited silently for me, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Heat returned to my cheeks the moment his molten gold eyes bore into the side of my face. Try as I might, I couldn't ignore his weighted stare. Did he have to watch me so intensely?!

"Thank you," I mumbled, dabbing the corners of my mouth with the cloth napkin after my last bite, "it, the food I mean, was divine."

The golden-haired enigma nodded his head once before another hint of a smile danced across his mouth, "I'm pleased you enjoyed it," was all he said as he reached out for my dirty dish.

I didn't give him the opportunity to when I quickly took both our plates away and marched over to the white basin, intent on repaying him for his kindness by way of cleaning up. It was only fair. This time I was smart enough not to chance a glance over my shoulder to see if my companion's angular features reflected one of disapproval. I didn't care, I was grateful, and that was all that mattered presently.

I made quick work of the supper mess and moved to collect my satchel and cloak as I needed sleep- I had no desire to stay out in the cold after I'd enjoyed the warmth of the castle the last few hours, but I didn't have any other alternative.

"You plan on sleeping outside during a snowstorm?" The golden-haired man's voice caught me off guard again. Surely I'd get accustomed to his sudden questions, right?

"I don't have much other choice," I voiced my earlier thought, "I'll be-"

"You'll be frozen before dawn."

Had that been concern in his voice, or perhaps kindness? I dislodged the thought with a chortle of laughter, "I'll survive. If not, what's one more corpse for your growing garden?"

I didn't want to die, but I certainly wasn't going to impose either. The angel-faced enigma had fashioned himself a monster. Who was I to attempt to change his skewed thinking? No one. It wasn't my place to prove to him otherwise.

"Perhaps then, you would consider an alternative solution?"

Adjusting one of the long straps of my satchel to sit more comfortably on my shoulder, I quirked a brow, interested, "Such as?"

My host paused for a moment even as I stared after him, likely considering his words carefully, "I'll permit you to stay in my castle for the evening. When morning comes, you may leave."

If Dracula's son had been attempting to play up his monstrous nature, he was doing rather poorly! What evil, bloodthirsty monster spared the life of an intruder, shared a peaceful meal with his victim, and then offered them a warm place to sleep for the night?

None that came to mind. I smiled to myself briefly- whoever this man was, there was still goodness in his heart, even if he didn't want to see it.

"Are you certain?" I challenged, "I thought the monster of this keep hated my kind." I knew I was pushing his boundaries, and I knew I had no right to attempt to change his mind- even if he was wrong.

Check.

"If you truly wish to see a monster, then I could always throw you out into the biting cold myself. However, if you're done trying to goad me, then maybe you'll allow me to show you to your room for the night instead."

Checkmate- damnit.

As if to pour salt into the already blistering wound, my host began walking away without so much as a sparing glance to see if I was following.

He knew I'd follow- of course, he knew! I'm sure he'd also know I'd resist pridefully for a moment before falling in line behind him quietly- like I did.

For the first time that day, I didn't need to see his face. I gleaned, just by the bounce in his step, he wore a triumphant cheeky grin.