François rears back, barely dodging a clomp to the face. Even with his lightning-fast reflexes, what the human had just done takes him by surprise. Then it enrages him.

At first, her tenacity had been amusing - endearing even - but now he recognises it for what it is; a problem that needs to be solved. A lesson that needs to be taught.

"Vous peu la chienne!" he exclaims, reverting back to his first language, something he often does in moments when his emotions got the better of him. This is definitely one of those times.

Taking hold of her upper arms, François lifts her clean off the ground and throws her away from him. Her body meets the entrance gate with a harsh clang, the back of her head hitting the iron bars particularly hard, and she crumbles to the ground.

Dazed, the girl lifts her left hand and reaches up to feel the back of her skull. When she brings her hand back to look at it, her palm is covered in crimson. Blood.

François inhales deeply, the scent of her setting his throat on fire. This human has managed to surprise him yet again. He never would have expected such alluring blood to run beneath the skin of such an ordinary-looking individual. The scent of it is intoxicating.

The girl looks up at him then, an emotion he's familiar with finally replacing the shock in her dark sapphire-blue eyes. There it is, he thinks with satisfaction. Fear.

Sauntering over to the gate, he crouches down in front of her and murmurs, "Not so feisty now, are you?"

Her face pales when he takes her bloody hand and brings it to his mouth, running the tip of his tongue across the skin of her palm. She tastes the way violets smell. Exquisite.

A guttural moan escapes François' throat.

The girl cringes, repulsion transforming her features, and tries to pull her hand away but his grip only tightens. She winces and bites her bottom lip, clearly refusing to voice her discomfort. Stubborn, François thinks. Stupid.

He considers killing her right there and then. She has been witness to his escapades in London after all and now she knows what he is. This, along with her obvious refusal to submit to intimidation, makes her a liability. Unfortunately, however, he had lost his chance to dispose of her and her friend the moment he brought them here. Their fates are no longer in his hands but in his father's who is already furious about the night's events. François doesn't want to upset the man any more than he already has.

Using the grip he has around her wrist, François pulls her closer and winds his other arm around the back of her torso, imprisoning her against him.

"Remember this moment, ma cherie," he breathes, his chin touching the top of her head. "You might not survive the next time you make me angry."

Raising her hand to his lips again, he opens his mouth and sinks his fangs into the flesh of the inside of her wrist.

Shock makes the girl gasp, then the pain makes her scream. Her body stiffens and then goes wild, thrashing against but he holds her firm as hot, salty blood fills his mouth and trickles down his throat, chasing away the burn of thirst.

It is a euphoric feeling; the consumption of oxygen-rich blood. It is stronger than any recreational drug but just as addictive. Without it, his brain would starve. That's the downfall of having a dormant heart - the organ that humans use to pump oxygen around their bodies doesn't work for vampires and so they must get it by other means.

The human continues to fight as he feeds but as the minutes go by, her limbs become sluggish and her eyes cloud over, the lids drooping as the energy is slowly siphoned from her body.

When she finally loses consciousness, François stops despite the temptation to carry on until every drop is gone.

Bundling her into his arm, François stands and leisurely makes his way back to the chateau.

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Oooh, that was intense! What do you think of François so far? Let me know in the comments and please remember vote if you're enjoying the story so far. Thank you