Sensing the beautiful girl’s reluctance, the count smiled, and his smile was the smile of all the sadism in the world. His smile was the smile of a man who had taken what he wanted, always without the slightest hesitation, except where one of his precious brides was concerned. Had the stunning redhead been anything other, anything less, than who she was, he’d have killed her parents and broken her with the aid of his precious Izolda. Broken her while the two vampires had laughed and laughed.<br/><br/>But, perhaps for the best, she was who she was.<br/><br/>“We should retire soon for the night. You have had a long journey and will need to refresh yourselves. I can arrange for warm baths and arrange for you to be escorted to your rooms, if you are ready?” The count didn’t even glance to see how much of their respective meals were devoured, or how deeply Izolda had entranced Jonathan. In a way, the man lived within himself – his own empire of age and desire and ambition, myopic one moment, grandiose and generous the next.<br/><br/>Now, he was eager to move the game forward, to see what the parents were made of, to seed the girl with his nature, to grow and expand and consume. Such was his nature. Never fulfilled. Always eager for some new game, some new satisfaction.<br/><br/>At that thought his dark, blood-splotched eyes flicked up to Izolda, the only bride present, and a shimmer of desire thrummed through him. Oh, how he loved her! His rose, his beauty! How he longed to share such death, such beautiful music with her! And Lyanna too – though in a horribly different way. She, he wanted to corrupt. To use. To take. To pay back for her venomous, distant glances.<br/><br/>She would learn soon enough. All while Izolda watched and laughed. She was his favorite, after all.<br/>