The silence stretched for miles around in the open country. In the Dead of night, the sky was pitch black and starless. The night air chilled Maharani's bare throat and collar bone, her dainty ankles also chilled quite thoroughly. The crimson red evening dress she wore was splayed deliberately around her full, round hips. The folds of Chinese silk were neatly arranged to cover her slipper clad feet, which were then tucked up beneath her bottom on the cushioned carriage seat.
A gust of wind sent her silk clad hand to her bosom, the fabric of her dress dipping low off the shoulders and down her front, her milk white throat and the swell of her cleavage bared daringly, framed with gold stitching. The carriage bumped and rattled along the grimy dirt road, cutting its way through the heavy night the best it could by light of one lantern. The wheels screeched and rattled with every dusty rotation, the only sound to be heard in the night aside from the incessant 'clop' of the inky horse's hooves. Suddenly the carriage came to a halt.
Maharani heard the commotion above as the reigns-man cried out. "What the-" his voice cut out in a garbled, wheezing choke. She gasped, the horses rearing and bucking momentarily. Just as suddenly as the incident had occurred, there was a heavy 'thump' beside the carriage, right beneath her window, and all was silent once more aside from the wheels revolving and the carriage returning to its journey, or so she thought.
"Gustav! What was the commotion! Are you well?" she called, standing and peering around the outer wall of the carriage through the window. Gustav, his wide brimmed travelers cap shading his face, and his dusty road cloak wrapped tightly about him, simply inclined his hat her way. Looking back into the night, Maharani's voice leaped in her throat as the lantern light faded away from a horrifying scene. Gustav, stripped of cloak and hat, lay back where the wagon's wheels had just left. His throat was torn open, his eyes widened in terror and glazed in death. She turned around and looked in terror at her new driver.
He was looking back at her, yellow feline eyes glinting from beneath Gustav's brim, a flash of white blinding her as he smiled deviously. She was in for a ride. The driver cracked the reigns, sending Maharani's team of two careening forward into the night, their hooves galloping into the unknown. They weren't headed for home anymore. She stumbled back into the carriage' cab, shrinking away from the opening as those yellow eyes advanced on her. He nearly floated through the window, the team leading themselves.
As he entered the cab, he grabbed for her, catching hold of her waist in his firm hands easily. He banged a fist on the side of the carriage, the horses stopping immediately as if entranced. He hauled her up into his arms, throwing the carriage door open and stepping out into a dark, empty graveyard. He allowed her to tumble free of his arm, hitting the sod covered path and rolling like a child's poppet.
"You have one chance." He said his voice like being submerged in icy lake water in December. It was soft and low, but it clenched her insides in a frozen knot. She ran. She simply stood up on her trembling knees, and forgetting she was Lady Maharani of Moldavia, forgetting all of her courtly manners, she fled. Maharani ran deep into the twisting paths of the graveyard, the headstones and tombs creating a labyrinth around her. Suddenly, her foot caught on something and she tumbled forward.
She hit the ground hard, all of the air in her lungs leaving with a 'whoosh'. As her body came crashing to the ground, her brain exploded with pain inside her skull, the back of her head glancing off of a nearby grave stone. The silhouettes and dark shapes around her swam before her eyes, which were now seeing doubles of everything. Suddenly everything faded into to blackness.
The night air made no stir upon his resurrected form standing stone like and still upon the hill in the old cemetery.
A shuddering breath fought to leak its way into her aching lungs, her terrified sobs racking her frail temple.His hands, so pale and smooth,
wrapped around her wrists though she tried to shy away, his flesh drawing all the heat from hers with his frigid corpse like grip. His eyes were catlike and demonic, and they gleamed in the night. They seemed to...glow.
Maharani trembled in fear, her body going rigid as he pulled her to her feet. Her eyes traveled the planes of his black cape, his black tunic and breeches giving him the look of an eighteenth century lord. His black hair fell in tendrils to his shoulders, framing his pale face. His pale pink lips were curled slightly,
revealing deadly points, wickedly curved and sharp inside his mouth.
Despite her fear he was a beautiful creature. As his face neared hers, her fear evaporated, and became something less predictable. It became wonder, curiosity.
He bent forward at the waist, hanging her over backward in his surprisingly strong arms,
lithe body hovering over hers. His lips neared her bared neck and as she understood her fate,