The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

MA/NSFW

***

Two months later

Aubrey, Daniel and Margot were at the printing warehouse, watching the press print off the first few copies of 'Grenadine.' The smell of ink and metal lingered in the air, something the three found nostalgic.

Margot found her gaze shifting between her secretary and the librarian. The smiles he gave her? The way her face bloomed red tulip? No wisecracks from her? This had her boss snickering into her scarf.

***

"I see," Margot whispered after some time, moving spectacles down her nose, "its strange, seeing you, grinning from ear to ear. Tell me I'm seeing things..."

Daniel piped up from the other side of the room.

"You're seeing things."

He heard that? Margot visibly moved backwards. Aubrey spluttered laughter, patting her boss on the shoulder.

"See? Sharp."

"Yes," her boss sighed, "as a tack. I fear my intellect is severely undermined next to yours, Mr Hurst."

Daniel walked over fluidly, shaking his head.

"Not at all. Merely, I tend to be faster on the draw, is all. A woman of your aptitude for detail far exceeds my abilities."

Margot blushed.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere. However, seeing a new manuscript will."

Aubrey snickered.

"Straight down to business."

Daniel admired the trait.

"I adore that. No need for flowery adornments when you can skip right to the front."

Aubrey concurred.

"Straight to the punchline."

"So," the man sidled on over, "any idea as to when my work shall be published in bulk?"

Aubrey imitated his accent, bedizen, as she heard verbatim.

"Oh dear! We cannot possibly have delays! No folly, no dilly-dallying. Pip pip, workers! Onward to getting my work out there, and onto the shelves of Waterstones, toot sweet!"

Daniel's eyes mirrored smug satisfaction. Margot, upon seeing it left the room as quickly as she could, with the dexterity of a mouse up a drainpipe, running from a cat...

***

"Well now." Daniel followed the older woman's path. "That didn't take quite as long as I thought it would."

Aubrey made a face.

"Isn't that rather mean?"

She didn't quite agree with the idea of the man getting 'rid' of her boss, also her friend.

"What's with the 'I'm on a butcher's hook' and you are the butcher look? I've seen that before. To tell you the truth? Its a bit frightening."

She picked up her bag.

"Going to go after her."

Daniel sighed.

"I did not mean for Margot to leave. She left of her own accord. She knows more than she lets on."

Aubrey nodded.

"Yes, still doesn't sit right though."

The man moved back, face usual impassive, eyes neutral.

The secretary took her purse, leaving for the door.

***

"I know that look, too, Daniel. Not used to getting it without an agenda, not a pretty one either."

Blues sharpened immediately.

"Do you mean to say I would harm you? I would not."

Stern turn of voice worried the woman.

"Not you. Just," she turned, facing him bravely, "that was the look in the past that signalled a guy wasn't taking no for an answer. Now, please don't believe I think you mean me harm of any kind. I don't. I wouldn't think that. If you mean it, mean it. Own it. Don't do it, leave me hanging, cause I will let go of the damn rope and walk away."

Daniel wished to approach her. He kept his distance out of respect.

"I do nothing by halves."

"All or nothing. A bit does fuck all, trust me."

Daniel let out a slight tut.

"I do. I also understand that all at once can hurt a woman, and, again, that is not how I play. I play fairly. We talk over rules far in advance of any games. There isn't any room for cheating, playing the field makes me yawn."

Aubrey swivelled around, bag in both hands, held at her middle section.

"Firstly, you're damn right. That's how I play. Scares off boys, wanton strays. If I wanted to sleep with a vagrant...," she trailed off. "Secondly, did you tut me? The only disapproving sound I wish to hear some any man is if he sees me, legs akimbo, in front of a mirror, because its awkward shaving certain bits. Also, if I accidentally use hair removal cream down there again." She grimaced. "Don't do that. It works, smooth as really, but it stung like I had a portal to a level of Hell down there..."

Daniel mockingly rolled his eyes.

"I could have worked out which 'bits' you refer too, then you went and told me. Burning any part of your anatomy is not highly recommended..."

"No shit, Sherlock. Should I get you his tweed cap whilst I'm at it?"

"Don't forget the heroin needle. I do believe I have a few bands in my car..."

Aubrey squeaked.

"Fuck you, do not laugh at that noise! Just," she held her head, "fucking hell. How do you do that?"

Daniel raised a brow, appearing to not understand the question.

"Rile me, then ease it? Its like you throw hot water over me, then dunk me into cold. I end up shivering, peeved, but strangely intrigued. Not too hot though, I burn easily."

She put down her purse, unbuttoning and raising her sleeve.

"Irish skin. Not too cold either, I despise feeling as my digits are about to drop off, skitter about the floor, under the floorboards, the couch and such."

The man skipped to the heart of the matter in three seconds flat...

***

"So, in here then? Not too hot, not too cold. though I bet it can get cooler at night, three-hundred year old building work..."

Grey eyes glittered, entertained at the topic.

"Ah! I was wondering when the topic of your penis being put in a hole of mine would come up. Lovely way of phrasing it though. Makes a big difference to a sweaty bastard, who hasn't heard of water saying, 'fancy a shag?' No, dear Sir. I do not". Aubrey scanned the space. "In here? Never! Its drafty, sounds echo too. Wouldn't live that down. Just because you are boiling doesn't mean I don't feel chills."

Out of all of that, that impassioned speech, the librarian took one thing, and one thing only.

***

"Are you saying that I'm hot?"

Aubrey groaned.

"No!" Her frustration ebbed quickly. "Savannah said you were. I said 'distinguished." Clearly, I was wrong."

The man tilted his head curiously, as a dog would.

"But, no." She chuckled darkly. "You want to mate with me here. Here! I mean, come on."

"We would be, if things were happening."

"I am not 'plain sailing.' You can wait. You want simple? There's a bar round the corner, I met my ex there. "The woman let out a bitter sigh. "That should tell you a lot."

"I wouldn't take your for granted. I fear your opinion of yourself prevents my affection from truly getting through. Please, you see yourself as less than you are."

Aubrey folded her arms around herself.

"You are right. I let you in so far, then stop you. You need no stopping, you stop yourself. Never overstep my boundaries. I apologise if I seem frustrated, It isn't at you, its myself. I am currently moving to my new apartment. Can I have some time alone?"

The man acknowledged her request.

"I am where I usually will be, if you wish to talk. No pressure."

Daniel held up his hands.

"The library. Don't you have a home?"

"The library is my home. However, I have residence opposite it."

Aubrey bowed graciously.

"Thank you."

She smiled, walking over, offering a hand. Her friend took it.

"Take care of yourself. I have witnessed others, and whilst kind to put other before yourself, it can cause irreparable damage. I don't wish to see that with you."

The woman's cheeks were budding roses, her face twisted with slight bewilderment. She stood on tiptoes.

"Why do you smell like pennies?"

Daniel was taken aback by that, thrown off. He couldn't tell her the truth. Not yet. He deemed her a moral, grounded person, someone who wouldn't judge him, his habits.

Still, he kept his secret to himself, for the time being.

***

"Its my tiepin. Your head is in line with it. It was passed down through generations of my family. Sadly, its seen better days and has begun to rust."

The brunette tipped his head, chin on her forehead. Aubrey huffed.

"Head rest for tall people?"

"Rest for the weary."

She looked up, despite looking at the man's throat, not into his eyes.

"Weary? Need to rest? No good, working yourself to the bone. Wouldn't want you typing with stubs, now."

Daniel sighed.

"Yes. Rest. I sorely need my bed."

He grabbed his jacket, slipping it over his arms, giving Aubrey hers.

"May I walk you to the station?"

The secretary bundled herself up in jacket fabric.

"Thought you'd say 'home' then."

"Please," he waved a long, slim hand, "I like to think myself as less 'creepy', more protective, to a fault."

Aubrey blinked slowly, soft grace in her movements.

"You can, if I can link your arm with mine. Call it soppy, but it helps me feel secure. I need that in my life."

Daniel offered his arm as the two headed towards the factory exit.

"Security keeps us safe, but can mask things we really ought to see..."

***

Three months later found the three in Waterstones, on Tottenham Court Road, huge shelf of Grenadine before them, its cover a scarlet sheet, crinkled from hands clutching it.

"Go on then, hotshot. You're going to need many pens."

Aubrey handed Daniel a pack of them. He pulled out his fountain pen, the same elegant filigree patterned one the secretary admired months ago, in the library.

"Ever the classy gent. Can't possibly use Biros. Commoners use those, aka, moi."

She took one out, sticking it between her teeth.

"Yes, this is rather cheap, and you, Sir, do not strike me the cheap sort. I'm off. Good luck with the launch."

Daniel called her bluff.

"And, yes, this pen means I documented your number. I did not call because I thought it impertinent."

"Wouldn't have given you it had I thought it that, dear."

She tilted her head.

"You'll be needing plenty of tea though," she looked out of the storefront window, "that crowd is huge."

Daniel passing his cup to her over his shoulder did not go down well.

"Sigh. Guess I'd better be old tea lady, slip in hair rollers and an apron. Do mind squirming women," greys scanned the room, twenty women stood before him, "some of them look to have already sorted themselves out..."

If the man was drinking anything, he'd have choked, dripped milky beverage over an open book.

He merely let her comment slide, getting back to signing.

***

Aubrey pulled devilish grins at the distasteful glares she received for being at Daniel's side.

'Yes,' she gloated internally, small victory, 'I get to stand THIS side, and you don't. Boo hoo, honey. Lay off the makeup next time. Looks like you headbutted a makeup counter.'

The woman in question looked down her nose, sneering prominent in frown lines.

"Well, go on then. Tea?"

Daniel followed the sound, looking at the lady himself.

"Oh? Are you offering?"

He kept his tone as cool as a cucumber. Nothing would shake that resolve, no matter how much the women before him hitched up their skirts...

***

"Little milk, one sugar, preferably demerara. Aubrey?" She stepped forward with mention of her name. "She is Margot Parson's secretary, and my associate. I would prefer it if you did not put yourself on a pedestal and Aubrey on the floor. And, yes," he kept on after her eyes turned venomous, "I will call you out on it. If you think yourself better, higher up, you're setting yourself up for a fall. I would know, I have seen it far too many times in my lifetime."

Aubrey stood, in awe of the man, defending her, as if she had 'honour' and he were a prince, vigour and valour fuelling his actions.

'Lifetime?'
Again, an odd choice of phrase. Daniel spoke as if he came from 20th century England, like a proper English gentlemen. That made zero sense in her mind, though, she found she had a fondness for 'old world' speak. It was literate, sounding far better than 'U wot m8', or 'DTF' (those particular acronyms twisting her tongue, baiting her with acerbic sweeties that she wished to spit out.)

***

"Past indiscretion aside?" Daniel waved a hand, offering it to the woman. "Yes, past. I am not one for pettiness, grudges are pointless."

The lady's beady verging on jet black eyes narrowed. She shook the author's hand cautiously. Aubrey wondered whether or not to reciprocate, the woman's actions failing to have her flinch, feel backed into a corner.

The secretary tentatively raised her left hand, non-dominant. She would be civil, though the woman would not derive anything from shaking her dominant hand.

The woman shook it immediately, scowl dropping to attrition.

"Women shouldn't be fighting one another. Should stand side-by-side, unity. Its not like anyone else will do that for us."

Aubrey disagreed, the woman obviously trying to rile her against the male of the species.

Not Daniel, however. Funnily enough, the cement faced bimbo would give him a pass.

He would hand that pass back, likely having laminated it, making sure all creases were smoothed out, and written a note to go with it.

He was flattered, but would have to turn her down...

***

"Glad that is over. All is said and done. Been needing to use the restroom since six..."

Aubrey cleared away the tea tray, small packets of sugar ever elusive to her grasp.

"You could have gone. You're human. At some point, after eight cups of tea, we'd all need to go. I would have corralled the wild animals, no worries."

She held out her hands cheekily, waving them a tad.

"Try to aim, won't you? Seems some men can aim into someone's hole, but not something's hole. Bet that wrist is sore though."

Daniel held up his hands on the way to the back room.

"Ambidextrous."

Aubrey rolled her eyes just as the door opened and closed.

'Of course you are...'

***

Margot long since left, Aubrey finished cleaning alone, not too fussed about the time. It neared ten in the evening. She'd already eaten, and her apartment was spotless, so she didn't go home to a mess. She now lived three streets down from the publishing house, so had much more time in the mornings to fully wake up, actually enjoy the start of the day.

She now sat on her couch, watching the sun rise on occasion, cup of herbal tea in hand. Being naturally a grumpy person faded away with time, enjoying the little things became natural, not a chore. She decided now that, instead of dreading her entering the fortieth year of her life, she would celebrate it. Have her cake and eat it. Sod what dietitians said about being over a certain age meant you can get fat. Fat was subjective.

There wasn't anything wrong with having a few extra pounds, not in her book.

'Speaking of books...'

***

Aubrey potted on over to the stock room computer, typing in 'Grenadine.' All a thousand books had been sold, plus a further five hundred online, on the same day of release. She grinned, turning to face the back room door as it opened.

"Grinning like a madwoman, with her hands behind her back. Should I be worried?"

Aubrey shrugged.

"Well, I have the weight advantage, not the height, so, maybe?"

She shared the good news.

"Was looking at the sales figures. All copies of Grenadine sold out today, and five-hundred online. Projections are it'll sell out completely by tomorrow online. We need more stockists, but, with these figures, that should be fairly simple. You did brilliantly," the woman spoke earnestly, "really pleased for you. I finished the book, by the way."

"And what did you think?"

"Me?" Aubrey gave an air of tumult. "I see why its called Grenadine. Crushed velvet drapes used as sheets to cover bare pale skin, decorated in carmine light, with hints of ruby shadowing her lips. Calling it 'Red' would have done it disservice, personally. Can't sleep on velvet, I find it slides off, especially if I've just shaved..."

Daniel let her carry on, feasting upon her bluntness with conviction.

"And, us women know all about red. Yes. I wish that would hurry up and end too. Dull pain is the worst. It isn't quite a pinch, but it lingers, right where you can do fuck all about it. Anyway," she proclaimed, "you took ages in there. I've noticed men take forever in bathrooms. It can't always be for, well, pulling the chain, right?"

She backtracked, walking towards the desk Daniel used to sign his books.

"I should move this back," she looked around, "there. If you're wrists aren't too knackered, care to help a girl out?"

Daniel gave her that smouldering ice stare that felt like he was soldering into her chest.

"Girl? Woman, surely."

Aubrey agreed, picking up one half of the table. Daniel took the other.

"Yes. Not some sixteen year old, fawning over an older guy."

She winked, walking in step with the man.

"Not quite. A thirty-nine year old woman, fawning over an older man. Slight difference."

Aubrey snorted, having to keep her focus on the realigning the table legs onto their assigned stickers on the tiled floor.

"How old are you, exactly? Don't mind me asking, do you?"

"You wouldn't have said 'don't mind' if you thought I would."

He placed his half down, Aubrey doing the same. Dusting their hands off, the man took some time to answer.

"Damn," the secretary looked stunned, "that one has you all discombobulated. Its alright," she waved him off, "doesn't matter. We're adults, that's what matters."

Daniel paused, not from lack of will to answer her, but the overbearing perturbation of answering her honestly.

Five hundred and eighty six wasn't your stereotypical answer...

***

He went with the age he was when he perished.

"Forty-Five."

"And there's me thinking you'd say eighty."

Daniel's face turned devoid of anything, impassively built, his arms folding.

"Woah, THAT went down like a lead balloon." Aubrey scuttled back. "I was joking." She held up her claws. "Let me make it up? Wine bar?"

"I don't drink...wine."

He breathed through his nose, irritated huffs.

"Uhh, huh." The woman's brain scrambled for something that would placate the offended male. "Bourbon? I have a bottle of single malt at home. Its up to you. Its okay if you want to say no."

"Rum, and my abode has quite the collection of it, amassed over years."

The man dropped his arms to his sides, stepping towards her as if gliding through liquid. He made treading water look effortless.

"I know you were toying with me. I was seeing how you'd handle my, less than charming side."

Aubrey called his bluff.

"Tantrum, you mean. Old man, that is definitely, 100% all kinds of unattractive. I almost want to tut you, maybe smack your arse." She coughed. "What? I'd need a stepladder to hit you in the shoulder. The perils of wearing flats."

"My less than charming side is telling me that, if you smacked my arse, yours is fair game."

"Fair enough. I'll take your up on your offer of rum. Spiced rum is a favourite of mine. Used to drink that with my Dad, long ago..."

"As did I, an even longer time ago. I'll grab my coat."

Aubrey took out her phone.

"I'll call a taxi. Also, you slap my arse? I'd put you on yours. Not here, though. I don't do public displays of affection. I do private displays of it."

Daniel's chuckles grew further away as she opened the door, stepping outside.

***

'Mental note. Did I put on my ridiculously obvious 'devour me' underwear set on?'

She took a peek, seeing that she had, indeed.

'Huh. I'm trying for once.'

Another, self-loathing part kicked her whilst she dared stand up.

'Reaching, you mean.'

She drew a breath, calling the taxi right now was a 'fuck you' to her inner arsehole, who continued to whittle away at her and her confidence, as if she shouldn't have any. The fact Daniel could stand to be in the same room as her, hold conversation with her, not just 'yeses' and 'nos'? That gave her a huge boost.

She was only going to the man's home for a drink, she had gotten to know him, fairly well, at least. Was it really so terrible for her to crave intellectual conversation, drink in hand, with someone strikingly handsome to boot?

No. It wasn't.

***

She answered the operator, telling her her location with glee. There were glimmers, glimmers of potential there?

Somewhere, in her fragility, Daniel had found a solution to seal those cracks. He didn't paper over them. He glued them, holding the pieces together until they bonded.

'If anything, I've made a true friend.'

She nodded, to herself, slipping her phone back into her purse.

MA/NSFW

***

Savannah looked up from her laptop, raising an arched blond brow.

"You look much better," she pieced together Aubrey's day, in her own 'special' way, "you saw Daniel today?"

Aubrey nodded, placing her bag next to the younger woman's.

"Don't tell me you two," she laughed, "in a library?! Girl, that's epic. Lucky bitch!"

Aubrey coughed, fits surprising her. She doubled over the counter, her gut hurting.

"No! Really, Sav? I've known him for a little over seventy-two hours. Don't move that quick. Christ."

She regained some composure, using momentum so she could sit down.

"Besides, he looks like a model. Why would a model sleep with someone who looks like an angry bitch? Not a lucky one. He's an acquaintance, Sav, that's it."

The receptionist shook her head, squinting emeralds.

"You literally have flirty banter when you see each other. Like, he's returning it, you know. You're both smart, so, you can chat about all sorts. I wouldn't understand any of it, so, no need to worry about me understanding any of it."

Aubrey laughed. "To be fair, we'd have to screw in front of you before you got it." She controlled herself with getting her phone out of her bag. "He speaks Latin. That got me, got me damn good."

Savannah giggled. "That's hot."

"Paris Hilton? No. He isn't hot. He's different, unique, his brain is in the right head. He's got charm, but he doesn't use that as a weapon to bed women. It isn't bull, he isn't full of it. There's raw honesty there, I appreciate that."

"That's rare, yeah."

"Besides," the secretary took out the manuscript, "almost done making notes. Oh, and I got Margot some prosecco, to make up for me ignoring her."

Savannah shushed her colleague.

"Woah! Keep it down! She's in there." She squeaked. "I'll get her a glass."

"Make sure to buff it till it gleams."

"And ruin these nails?" The receptionist looked at nude false nails, decorated with little clear gems. "I think not." Her smirk gave her away. "By the way, Margot isn't in there. She left two hours ago. Said she tried to tell you, but she must have missed you." She winked. "Daniel didn't though, did he?"

"What? Missed or tried to tell me something? He already did."

Aubrey's warm, earnest smile had the younger woman's mouth returning it.

"You really like him."

Aubrey nodded.

"It isn't every day you meet someone who can hold conversation, has a mind of his own, does what he loves as a job, has a brain in the right head. Also, groomed just the right amount. Not keen on the trend of annihilating every hair on your body, save your face. Guys have hair, women have hair. Never understood why its disgusting. I understand wanting to remove underarm and groin hairs. You don't want sweat lingering in either. But your legs? Chest? Arms? Too far. Too much."

"How do you know he's groomed 'just the right amount,' unless you've looked at his body?"

Savannah's wry tone made Aubrey's face contort.

"I meant his face, Sav. I have seen that, and a little of his forearm. That's it. Nothing seedy, untoward."

"Shame. Reckon he's got some skills on him. I'd say mid forties."

"Don't need skill. Its wrist action. All in the wrist."

Savannah choked into her tea.

"I love you, you know that?"

Aubrey did something that had the blond regretting her words.

"Too right, sister."

She took the bottle, heading into Margot's office. She placed it in her wine cooler, glasses on top of it.

***

"Margot? Good evening. I'll be heading off soon. Thought I'd stay a little longer."

It was evening now, the secretary wanted to go home, antsy feet under the desk.

"There's a present in the office, to say sorry." Aubrey reasoned. "I wasn't ignoring you. No signal on the tube, and in the library."

That last part she was reluctant to mention. Her boss saw her reticence.

"The library? Daniel? Aubrey," she used her motherly tone, "whilst I feel jubilant that you've met someone..."

Aubrey felt herself butt in, words on her tongue, trying to burst free of her mouth. She suppressed them.

"I'd appreciate if you at least told me where you were going."

Her secretary smiled.

"I don't know why I didn't. Sounds seedy as all hell. It wasn't, by the way. Neither of us are the type."

She added, speeding through word count.

"I know." Margot nodded, knowing wise demeanour telling. "I was your age once." She teased, chuckling. "I see your notes are complete. Excellent. I will take them home, study them tonight. Take tomorrow off, you've been running yourself ragged."

Aubrey shook her head.

"I can't afford to do that. The rent has gone up again, it's over three quarters my paycheck now."

Her honesty was much welcomed with her boss. She'd rather that than lies, office gossip...

***

"That's ridiculous. That isn't worth that amount of money. Absurd." She took her phone from her purse. "I'll sort you something, help you out of that pallor shell of an 'apartment'."

Grey eyes ballooned.

"That's...Margot. That's a lovely gesture, something I could never repay..."

"No buts." Soft honey eyes mellowed. "You've been with me twenty years this year. You're loyal to a fault, efficient, beyond talented. I know you're struggling, though I did not acknowledge how much. I apologise for that, truly. I will find you somewhere nearer the office, save you money on travel. Save you having to deal with other people."

The two shared a smirk.

"Except Daniel..."

***

They spoke, the words used the same.

Aubrey wiggled her nose.

"Eh, he's, tolerable. So is Savannah, and you, Mrs Parsons."

Margot patted her hand.

"Good save. There will be a surprise waiting for you too. Hmm, should I have told you that? Not much of a surprise..."

Aubrey's ears must be mishearing the older woman...

"No, but, its up to you. Again, thank you. Glad I have you as my boss. You've known me long enough to know I am not a wicked fiend. In no way malicious, even mean, so to speak. My tongue gets ahead of my brain, occasionally..."

"All the time." Her boss opened her office door. "See you on Monday."

Aubrey laughed, picking up her jacket and purse.

***

One horridly cramped tube journey later found Aubrey home. No train delays and an empty street meant she made it home in record time.

Her bath called, and, somewhere, buried within her conscious mind, she hoped Daniel would too. She had, after all, left her number on a folded note under his preferred reading choice. She used it as a bookmark, placing slim fountain pen upon it, so it didn't blow off.

She'd left the man her house phone, doubting he'd have a smartphone. He didn't seem the type. Daniel wasn't one for social media, gatherings, parties and the like.

There was something. He hadn't mentioned any family. Aubrey had no rhyme nor reason to ask him something so personal, so, she didn't.

She had no right to quiz him on his life, his comings and goings.

The woman decided to make some cocoa, run a hot bath, slip inside the waters, book in hand perhaps?

'Perhaps.'

Something, not so innocent. Not wanting to admit it, Daniel's presence, seeming interest in her garnered reactions from her body, her mind, visceral, hopefully not too visceral. She wanted him to see coyness, a tad shy, a glint of internal coursing feelings.

Was she really so base?

An ever warming abdomen confirmed that.

'Clearly.'

She sighed, throwing off clothes in all directions, heading into the bathroom.

***

Slipping into warm waves, honeyed suds with hues of mango was sheer bliss, heavenly.

She had a small table beside the bath, mug on a coaster, navy bookmark next to it, silver threaded throughout.

The book she had chosen was forgotten after a few moments, in favour of relaxation, combined with sips of delicious chocolate.

Her mind could fill in any blanks, treading not so lightly into erotica.

Nothing wrong with letting the imagination run wild for a while. Let it off its lead.

**

Aubrey slipped into bed around midnight, late nights a rarity, replaced by early mornings. Pitifully early, stressful. But, she sighed, that was work, that was being an 'adult' for you. Couldn't act like a child when bills called, rent hollered and food beckoned.

Should she feel needy for wanting someone to talk to, who wasn't a woman? Someone, who, intellectually challenged her? Margot did too, of course, but Aubrey liked that someone new was in her life.

The fact he was a man didn't matter. Not one iota.

'Nope.'

'Not at all.'

***

Her brain would have slapped her upside the head if it could have left her head without instantly snuffing out her flame.

'Okay,' she relented,' it does.'

Body wise?

She tilted her head.

'A bit.'

The man wasn't thin, nor broad. Not short, not too tall in stature. Had a neck, not something block-like, his arms not boulders stuffed under skin, though not wiry, veins raised.

She snorted into her mug, swallowing the last of the sweet brew.

I apologise, Daniel (not that he was there, his ears wouldn't hear her manners) but, sometimes a girl needs something more than just kinky words. I bet he'd laugh, that sultry baritone, pretend he knows nada about these things. Please, she laughed, of course you do.

She furtively stopped her hand sloping down.

If I can look you in the eye, next I see you, it'll be a miracle...

MA/NSFW.

***

Present day

Daniel reminisced on his past life, varying degrees of emotion striking him. Radu, Elisabeta, the women after her. How Bram Stoker wrote him, portrayed him. He had read the novel several times, lucky enough to find a first edition copy. He'd been a day away from meeting the man himself, deeming it too ironic, blasé. Earlier base instincts made him consider freeing himself, the depiction of Mina somehow, perhaps a tad cautiously giving him chilling thrill, spine arching. Lucy was pretty in description, but base in other aspects. There was little wrong with seeking happiness, but hers was a fantasy. Nothing short of delusional.

She believed she could tame the dragon.

She could not.

***

The first page containing his name hit him as amusing, memories opening floodgates.

Dracul, he hadn't been called that in millennia, and, whilst he felt no shame in mentioning his former title, he knew society viewed it with scorn. He was a myth, the fever dreams of an overly aroused woman who's husband was hopeless in bed, flopping around for an agonising minute before collapsing in a heap, falling asleep quickly.

Daniel smirked, picking up delicate porcelain, bringing it to his lips, taking a sip of sweet tea.

Men hadn't changed much in his years, his view point.

Women however? My, how they'd blossomed. Able to be sexual beings without ridicule, able to pleasure themselves without cause, simply when the need took them.

***

He was old enough not to give in to such carnal urges. His body did not flare up when he saw a pretty girl. He did not grow hard at the sight of breasts, heaved so high, the lady could use them as a head rest. Nor did his mouth dry, desperate for water when he sat, watching men gaze lustfully at a woman, with a piece of string and scrap of lace combined into what she called 'panties.'

They had wives at home, Daniel knew that.

But, who cared if the dancing female was meat to the wolves?

He did.

In his youth, he was virile, eager to feel a woman's form, especially after seeing women flock to his brother, like he was a deity incarnate. He'd hear their sounds, combination of rutting's good and bad sides. His own flesh would ache, pulse, unaware of what to do, how to do it.

He'd touched himself before, but, to his brother's bellows? Wasn't there a line drawn, even if in the shadows his hand fell upon warm flesh?

Not quite incestuous, but quite wrong. Phasing out grunts from feminine wails wasn't easy, when the castle was so quiet, you could hear a rat's claws scurrying on stone...

***

In his twenties going on thirties, he learned to control his urges, beginning to resent his elder brother and his ways. A woman had been suggested as his wife, Elisabeta Vereloine, daughter of Baron Zeren Verloine. Radu flatly refused the man's request. She was then 'offered' to Dracul, her hand vital in securing wealth, joining territories. Dracul wished to get to know the lady before knowing her intimately. Their Father, Vlad II was furious that his eldest behaved like a teenager well into his adult years.

Dracul spent a few months observing Elisabeta, her quirks, light laughter echoed throughout the hallways.

Now, there was a sound he much preferred to listen too.

And, he did, with her and her Father's permission, of course. He truly respected the family.

***

Eventually, Zeren asked Dracul's Father if his youngest could marry his daughter. Vlad agreed wholeheartedly, he himself seeing how cordial the two were with one another. The two were married in a lavish ceremony three months later, Dracul clad in red velvet, gold accents, Elisabeta in white lace.

Their parents looked on with pride, whilst Radu scowled, attempting to hide it behind his beard.

***

Neither party had touched one another before marriage, neither knew how courtship worked. After their first awkward fumble, laughter ensued, and a promise.

They would respect, care for and love one another, for all eternity.

For now, they were safe, their Father's lands were safe. They could rest in peace.

***

Present day

Aubrey shook her hood of rain, droplets scattering in every direction. It was soaked, faux fur sodden. She sighed, seeing a coat rack just inside the library entryway. She folded the jacket over her arm, hood side as far away as possible. Daniel opened the door.

"Lovely day."

His smirk lightened Aubrey's sour discord.

"Quite. Now," she moved the sopping fabric away from his grey waistcoat, "can I come in?"

A harsh glint took hazed cerulean. Aubrey's brows dropped, suspicious.

"You alright? You've gone from chipper to serial killer in two seconds flat."

'Can you come in? Please. How many times must I hear that trope?'

His mind chimed. A different, rational part threw its two cents in.

'She does not know your nature. It isn't her fault that society paints you as a gaunt sex pest with sparkling skin...'

Grey hooded eyes greeted Daniel when he blinked, shutting out the light to his chaotic thoughts.

***

"Yes," he took the coat in one fluid motion, draping it over the rack, "of course." He stepped aside, letting the woman inside.

Aubrey moved past the man, rather perturbed at his turn. No longer welcoming, as she slipped by him, he felt cold, off, something wasn't quite right with him.

Call her stupid, but she ignored the signs things were amiss.

She saw her reflection in a cabinet mirror, hair in several directions, wet static the cause. She payed it no mind.

She was here to read, not model on a runway.

***

Her eyes fell upon holy books, grin smoothing her lips. She raised a brow.

"Get the feeling if I stay by this bookcase, it'll burst into flames. Or I will."

Daniel appeared behind her, no longer giving off 'ice prince.'

"Apologies for earlier. I've, had an off day. I shouldn't take it out on you."

Aubrey picked up a copy of Baghdad Gita. The man's eyes fell upon the cover.

"Krishna? Didn't you just remark it could go up in flames?"

He smiled knowingly.

Aubrey grinned. "Smoke and mirrors, honey," she waved her free hand, movement akin to a magician after they said 'Abracadabra,' "I'm an enigma."

Daniel got out what he needed to almost as soon as the woman sat down.

"Last night, I was walking home, my path took me past a club. I saw the way men leched. Beguiling."

Aubrey 'ah'ed.

"They're young. That's no excuse, but I believe we've all had times where we may have 'leched'." She snuck in a cheeky ditty. "Did you imagine them looking at me like that?"

"The women I have known in my life, all at once, I saw those men, speaking the way they did, directed at them. When I was their age, I was attracted to women, not for the size of the chest or what is between her legs. Why does society deem only being interested on external looks?"

Aubrey shrugged. "Women do it too. You ask them, and they'll all say the same thing. They want a broad, tall man, perfect body, just right cock, carved by 'gods.' They never say anything other than that, save for if they aren't straight, of course."

She opened the book. "Glad I am here. Work is getting on top of me," she faced the brunette male, "I'm behind on the paperwork for the first copy of your work. That's why," she opened her bag, taking out a thick stack of pages, "I brought it with me! I can look like I'm reading whilst actually working."

Daniel grinned.

"Cultured."

Aubrey nodded, quite proud of herself.

"Quite".

"Tea?"

The secretary wove a hand through her hair, shaking it free of drips.

"Something stronger?"

"After being outside in that?" She looked out the window, rain thundering against it. "Definitely."

Daniel concurred, leaving the room to his 'hidden' liquor cabinet. It didn't hurt anyone if they didn't know it was there...

***

"There's no reception here." Aubrey waved her phone, signal bars non-existent. "I love that. I know, modern age and all that, however, it is nice to put the technology away for a while, concentrate on yourself". She laughed darkly. "Also means Margot can't bother me. Really, I've had seven emails from her in ten minutes. I replied to the second, genuinely missing the first as I was on the Tube, and had no signal there either. Still, she's a bold character, a tough cookie. I ought to buy her a caramel latte before I head back, or a bottle of prosecco. That'll take the sting out of me being late on the project."

She turned upon hearing the clinking of bottles.

"Perfect," she sighed, "dilate my blood vessels for a bit, give me the illusion of being warm."

The room was cool, Daniel accustomed to it. Aubrey, however had come out of the cold Winter air. She was already shivering, discomfort obvious, a mask partially slipped over it.

"Here, give me your wet clothing. I'll drape them over the radiators, turn them up."

"Hey," she teased, "aren't I glad I'm not wearing anything remotely 'sexy.' Totally. Granny pants for life."

Daniel exchanged the bottles for a cardigan and scarf.

"Should I say shame, or what I think?"

Aubrey called his bluff.

"Neither. Just get some tumblers, lest I neck this, like the classy woman I am."

The man used his 'trick' of gazing into her eyes, blue shards piercing her soul, heat blooming taking chills with it.

***

Seconds of silence became heavy, pregnant pause aggravating her. She needed to keep him on his toes, not come across as how other ladies would act around him.

Like Savannah fell apart around him.

***

"Am I supposed to be blushing?"

She took the bottle of rum, acting her way out of his eye-line with it.

"Cause, if I am," she forced herself to return the look, "it isn't you. Its this glorious amber liquid."

"Good," Daniel remarked, "wouldn't want you tripping over yourself from being blinded by myself."

Aubrey's smirk pleasantly occupied her companion.

"Ice?"

He blurted that out, preferring his drink with that, perhaps a lemon or lime wedge.

"Please, I'll pass," the secretary waved her hand, "my soul is cold enough."

The two allowed themselves hearty chuckles. Daniel did as was asked, Aubrey sighing gratefully as the heating kicked in.

She looked down, her bra peaked from prior frozen skin. Her arms folded over her chest, hoping the man hadn't noticed.

***

Ten minutes later found Aubrey, in one hand a tumbler of rum, the other a pen. She began fleshing out her notes on Daniel's work, the piece similar to Charles' Dickens Bleak House. Its narrative told of loss, the devastation of war, repercussions, how many women lost their husbands, ending up alone, with children or pregnant. It very much reminded her of texts she has read regarding world wars one and two. The secretary couldn't imagine how those women coped. Losing even one person around her had her falling apart at the seams, unseen hand pulling free her threads with needles, loosening her resolve.

Aubrey turned, observing Daniel. He'd taken the only book from her and seemingly was possessed via its knowledge, its pearls of wisdom. She coughed rudely, knowing her error, but hating the sombre quietness of the room.

"I don't much believe in Gods, other plains and the like, but the words are awfully soothing, especially in times of heartache and pain. Reading that alongside your work would be an interesting experience."

"You're right," the man smiled, offering a hand, "here."

Aubrey picked up the page she was reading, turning, passing it to the man. He's brow raised, he shook his head softly.

"Your idea wouldn't work if it were only I reading, my dear."

Aubrey thinned her lips, perplexed biting of her cheek.

"Uh...do you mean you'd like me to read Grenadine whilst you read the Baghdad Gita simultaneously?" She stood, smoothing down her skirt. "Sure."

She ambled on over, her decision to wear midi heels not one she now agreed with. She wore them for vanity, the shoes making her legs look less like she enjoyed eating ice cream whilst sat on the couch in her pyjamas...

***

Daniel snorting made her stomach jolt. Was it directed at her? Her folly wearing heels?

No. The short answer was no. Her companion's eyes were upon the page in her hand. She gave it over, no questions asked, standing behind him with folded arms.

"Red pen? I feel I'm being berated by a teacher."

The woman mumbled, annoyed at herself rather than the man.

"Bloody heels. Yeah," she raised a foot, "why did I wear these again? Oh yes! Because I want to look more elegant, less dumpy. Red pen?" She let a corner of her mouth play upwards. "Yes, it was the only one I could find that didn't run out halfway through a sentence. And I am not berating you. If you actually read my comments, you'd see my praise. Its not every day I see literary work that could rival the classics."

Daniel tilted his head, some notes diagonal.

"Should I have doodled? Men tend to be visual creatures, no?"

Daniel swivelled his head at an inopportune moment (in her mind), catching a flash of bra beneath her shirt.

"Yes," he let out measured breath, "we are visual creatures."

Aubrey smirked.

"Please. If you were, you wouldn't be looking at me. A thirty-eight year old woman isn't quite what guys look at and think, she's pretty. Besides, I'm happy being a fossil. Means I have a story, I have lines telling my life's monologue. I didn't have that when young. I just focused on studies rather than life outside that."

"One, not all 'guys' think if you're thirty-eight you are a relic, undeserving of affection. Being focused on education isn't a bad thing."

The woman fell quiet.

"It is when you're friends do what twenty-somethings should do. In fact," she tittered, "they were all kicked out, either due to being drunk, not turning up to lectures, or turning up to them drunk."

"And that's funny, how exactly? They lost their chance to open their minds, broaden their horizons."

Aubrey shot to defend them, but knew the man was right.

"Feel as if I missed out. Hell, I did miss out. I don't know why I didn't let myself go out. My lessons mattered more to me, glow paint, fake eyelashes and mini skirts not so much. A woman of my age in a bar now would attract sad, amused laughter."

"It only would if you acted the part. Sitting there, having a drink shouldn't attract that sort of behaviour. Really, are men of today dullards?"

"Younger look to be, rather smug too. They are better than anything you've ever had, they should own you. Guys my age look to be desperate. They are nearing forty, not settled down, nowhere near marriage. Spend all their time drowning their sorrows on their own, as their friends are settled. I don't want to be owned, nor forced to be a Mother for some down and out vagrant." She waved her hands. "I know, I'm cruel."

Daniel disagreed.

"You're right. Its a true shame. However, you come across as a woman who can live off her own merit, make her way through the world. Needn't rely off men. That attitude is as old as time."

"I doubt you'd struggle to find a partner, or lover, whichever is your preference."

The man grinned, amusement clear on his features.

"Are you calling me a harlot?"

"Never," the woman reasoned, "I am saying women likely turn into one when you are around."

"Not quite. I don't take advantage of that. I dislike when their undergarments hit the floor when they think I missed it. They need to have more care, thought for themselves. I wouldn't harm them, but others would."

"I didn't mean you'd harm them." She smiled. "I don't know why they bother wearing kickers then. I wouldn't, but its too damn cold. I'd end up in A&E very embarrassed."

She made several faces, discord in her head prying open thoughts of parts of her she hadn't bothered with in, months?

No one else had in years.

'Fuck. Don't know why I bother shaving or making myself look acceptable. It isn't like any men give a hoot.'

Her mind spat saliva laced caustic words. She could spit them out, though they'd still hurt...

'That's on you, not them. Its got sod all to do whether you look like Gisele Bündchen or not. Its about how you feel about yourself. If you think you're an ugly wretch, why would men think any different? They are visual creatures, if you think you look like shit, they won't see confident. They'll see stress, hatred, self loathing is rather evident on your face.'

***

"I should be off." She stood, taking her purse, placing Daniel's work within it. "Thanks for the drink. The rain seems to have calmed down. Get back to Margot, then go home."

Daniel paused, the woman's turn in mood confusing him, until he saw her face. She was attempting to hide it beneath her scarf. She looked downcast, internal monologue gone south, giving her discouraging thoughts.

'Disparaging...'

'Ah.' That's when he had the ping. 'Aubrey constantly demeans herself, and, whilst she attempts to mask it with the moniker of 'joke', it certainly isn't one.'

"You're welcome."

***

That's what he went with. Not quite what he wished too, but, those were the words he chose. He turned his back, picking up a fountain pen and tearing some paper.

"Your jacket is draped over the stairway radiator."

He finished writing, unseen by his companion as he slipped by, placing the paper inside a jacket pocket, curling it into a glove.

Heeled clicks stopping abruptly charmed him.

"Er, which stairwell? There are," she walked to an interactive map, zooming in with her fingers, "three nearby, according to this." She felt miffed. "Looks like I have to rely off of technology after all."

Daniel popped his head around the doorway.

"This one. I should have clarified which."

If he had, Aubrey would have gotten a clear view of his sneaky tendencies...

***

"Okay." The secretary walked up to him. "Thanks."

Daniel held up a hand, moving past her shoulder by a step.

"Occultatum ante vos, profunde in tenebris, vos can reperio lucem, si quaesieris eam."

Aubrey put her jacket on, stuffing her hand in her pockets. She felt something in her glove but didn't give it away.

"Okay. I will say that was rather attractive. Latin has a way of uncoiling my stress. You have a way of quelling it."

She moved onto her tiptoes, moving the tall man's head to face her.

"How do you do that? Disarming me is tough, for I have many wires. I reside in darkness for fear of the light. If I find it, what if it takes what I know away? If I know upset, unable to find my way in a world full of paths, how I can find the light?" She smiled, knowingly. "Yes, I know what you said. I learn, I learn quickly, I observe fairly well too. You come off quiet, though inside? Inside I feel there is a darkness, you push through it, wade through its depths with vigour. Intent clear, as clear as those eyes. I will say I am similar to women when they say they enjoy light eyes. An icicle? Not quite so sure"

She swivelled away.

"How cliched." She chuckled. "You can look away now."

Zipping up her jacket with a smirk, peripheral vision viewing Daniel keeping his gaze on her. He had moved his head, owl-like, swift, a strange angle.

Or that could just be her eyes...

***

"See you sometime," she whispered, leaving the warmth of the library and the man within it.

Daniel simply nodded, leaving the space, returning to his office for a drink.

***

This beverage he kept away from prying eyes, even Aubrey's. Though Dracul had heard enough bereavement to fuel a thousand lifetimes for what he needed to survive, he did not do what they believed. He did not slaughter innocents en-masse, not tear through fields of livestock like a lone wolf. He had donors for most of his unlife, they were screened twice a year. Astuteness, tid bits of fear lingered in the cracks. Drinking tainted blood could kill him. He was the only one of his kind, unable to breed, much to his delight (he could take lovers without consequence. They were screened too.)

He kept himself to himself, seeking pleasure occasionally, finding himself along the way.

***

Aubrey waited until she was at the train station before taking the note from her glove, its scratchy surface grazing her palm.

She unfolded it, slipping the garment back on immediately, Winter's chill not appreciated.

'The darkness is only dark if we refuse to turn on a light.'

She raised a brow, brunette hairs bristling.

Then, she laughed, quite loudly, attracting pedestrian's heads.

'Oh, you soppy bastard!'

The cold didn't bother her after that...