The grand clock of Ravenshade Residence struck seven as the manor's gate creeked open. Crimson twilight bathed the polished stones of the driveway, matching the velvet shawl that billowed around the figure who stepped out of the gold- trimmed carriage.
Lady Morganna Ravenshade.
A vision of ancient beauty, her raven black hair swept into an elaborate twist, skin pale as marble, untouched by time. Every step she took whispered nobility by time, pride, and centuries of contempt. Her emerald eyes, sharp and col, scanned the manor she ruled with spine- straightening elegance. A proud pureblood vampire- one who viewed humans not as equals, but as beautifully packaged meals.
The butler bowed low at the entrance. "My Lady Morganna, welcome home. Your presence, as always, blesses these amazing halls with renewed grace."
"Indeed It does, Tomas," she said, removing her gloves with theoretical grace. "Though next time, ensure the gatekeepers don't yawn when I arrive. Laziness is human affliction. I won't tolerate it here."
Dinner was served beneath a crystal chandelier that once belonged to a duchess who'd lost her head to Morganna's grandfather- in war and over wine.
Julian entered the dining room, dressed in his usual luxury- dark velvet, cuffs of lace, rings that gleamed like secrets. He moved like silk on polish floors, seating himself with a carelessness only centuries can teach.
Lady Morganna was already deep into a discussion with Seraphine, her tone lined with disdain.
"Lady Davena invited that insufferable Count Arlen to her gala. Do you know he let his human butler speak at the table? Imagine! A meal with options."
"You need to go soft Mother," Seraphine said with a purr. "Humans are worth more than their blood too."
Julian raised his wine glass with practiced boredom. "Ah, the nighty ritual: roast duck, chilled wine, and good old- fashioned xenophobia."
Morganna narrowed her eyes. "Where were you this afternoon?"
Julian sipped. "Why, mother… are you truly asking about my whereabouts? How touching. You must be ill. Tomas, fetch the healer- Lady Morganna is poking her elegant nose into my pitiful affairs."
Seraphine laughed. "She's just worried about you, Julian."
Julian didn't reply. Instead, he glanced toward Tomas and said, "Bring me a glass of blood. Clean. Unfiltered."
As Tomas hurried away, Morganna pressed on, cutting into her roast with grace sharpened by disdain, "Julian, you're nearly four hundred and still unbound. We've had offers- fine bloodline, powerful houses."
He stood.
Fork and knife still in her hands, Morganna blinked. "You're leaving?"
"I've lost my appetite," Julian replied, voice icy and detached. "Strange how quickly one's hunger dies when peace and solitude are hunted to extinction."
Tomas re- entered with a silver tray. "My Lord, your blood meal is ready."
Julian didn't turn. "I seem to have lost interest in a blood meal where my peace and solitude are so unceremoniously interrupted."
He walked towards the corridor- but paused halfway. His tone shifted, sly and low.
"In fact… I'd rather have a direct drink. Damsel. Fair kind. Green eyes."
Morganna's fork clinked against her plate. Seraphine's brows arched high. Julian rarely showed such specificity- and never excitement- when it came to feeding.
Tomas hesitated. "I…I may not get that exact description of meal, my Lord."
Julian turned slightly, eyes glinting. "Do get something close, Tomas. Or better- you can be the substitute."
Tomas turned pale and rushed off, nearly tripping over his own shoes.
Moments later, on the east balcony, Julian leaned against the marble banister, a trembling slave girl before him. She was pale, soft- skinned, with vaguely green eyes. Close enough.
"Let's get to business, shall we?" he said, flashing a wide grin.
His fangs lengthened, skin paling as the moonlight danced across his irises, turning them a glowing garnet. He moved with supernatural speed, one hand gently cupping her neck, his bite deliberate and controlled- at first.
But as the warm blood hit his tongue, his mind drifted- his senses extending outward like a net cast to the sea.
There.
The road.
A soft mutter carried by the wind: "Ten shillings? That oily, gutless road…"
Elowen.
She was walking briskly, skirt rustling as she moved towards the carriage park, muttering curses at the theatre director.
Julian's smirk returned- but faded when a glossy, black carriage with gold trim came into view. It stopped beside her, and a familiar face leaned out.
Ewan Blair.
Rosebury's charming half- vampire business man. Friendly to Elowen's family. Tall. Handsome. Clean reputation. Revolting.
Julian narrowed his eyes, fangs still buried in the girl's neck.
From the balcony, he watched their conversation unfold with the clarity of a hawk.
"Miss Elowen," Ewan greeted with a warm smile as he stepped down. "Rough day?"
She sighed. "Let's just say I stood very still and got paid very little."
Ewan laughed softly. "Theatre types. Blind to brilliance. You deserve more."
She shrugged but didn't snap at him. "I've had worse."
"You're hardworking. And smart. You'll find your place, Elowen. Don't doubt it."
She smiled faintly.
Julian's jaw tightened.
Ewan offered the carriage. "Come, let me take you home. Walking won't do."
"I can manage."
"I insist."
He opened the door for her gently. She hesitated… then stepped in.
From above, Julian's fangs plunged deeper. The girl in his hands whimpered, then went limp.
Tomas returned just in time to see Julian lowering the unconscious girl to the floor.
"My Lord!"
Julian licked a drop of blood from his lower lip, eyes gleaming.
"Dump the meal for refill, Tomas… will you?"
The butler obeyed, lifting the girl with practical efficiency.
Julian's gaze stayed locked on the distant carriage carrying Elowen away.
so she does smile like that… just not for me
And with that thought, the hunger returned, darker than before.