1 chapter 1

Damien was looking down out of the large eight pane window of his manor, the velvet drapes served as a reminder of the dead body that was still lying in his room by the lounge chair. He will have the chair thrown out, it had speckles of blood on the covering of it's cushion.

He took a sip of his wine, and closed his eyes, his sharp ears picking up on all the sounds that disturbed the tranquility of his personal space. A maid was being scolded for her tardiness in the kitchen, the horses were stamping their hooves in the wake of the hail storm, and then were the noises which occurred in a working household. The sounds of utensils being moved, the swishes of brooms and dusters, swipes of the curtains being pulled and thuds of the windows being closed.

The storm would last for a few days, Damien sighed in disappointment. He wouldn't be able to go for hunting as he had initially planned to. At least he found an excuse for not attending the ball dance being held in the neighboring province. The only good thing about attending those galas and parties was getting laid once it was all over. Not that he needed them to have his needs fulfilled, any woman would fall at his feet if he asked for. But maybe that was his arrogance speaking, did it matter?

He finished the wine in his glass and kept it aside, taking a hold of the bottle instead. The butler had come to announce the arrival of a lady to interview for the post of a communicator. He was not gifted with kind words and assuring promises, he needed a person to put up the facade for him and communicate with the others through letters.

Taking a large gulp from the bottle he went to the bar that was situated in one corner of his chambers, stocked up with bottles upon bottles of alcohol. Wine, champagne, vodka, whiskey, gin.......everything that he might need to get through the night.

Replacing his bottle of wine with that of whiskey, he exited the room and proceeded to his study where the lady was asked to have a seat.

He couldn't have cared less if she was a whore from a brothel, or a daughter of a duke, he was utterly unconcerned about the way he was going to appear to her. Why had a woman came in again? He usually did not entertain women for official work that was anywhere close to relating with the throne or his people. Women absolutely could not be trusted with work of significance. The only reason he was entertaining her was perhaps the chance of bedding her if she was pretty.

And what was the harm in interviewing her? Other posts were open for her to try, like being a maid. Or mayhap a cook in the kitchen.

He took a few more large gulps from his whiskey as he walked down the hallway to his study. The large blackwood doors were carved with intricate designs that he despised from the bottom of his heart.

Taking another gulp he entered the room with the bottle still in his hand and closed the door behind him.

Elle, who was admiring the portrait of a woman which was mounted on the wall behind the large wooden bureau, turned around at the sound of the door opening.

Her gaze went over the man who had entered, going from his astray hair to the perfectly curved eyebrows that framed the deep red eyes, the color of which was very alike the red of her favorite wine, and for some reason she wished to get drunk under his stare. Her eyes then traveled to his his straight nose and high cheek bones, she would have admired his lips too, had he not brought the bottle in his hand to his lips.

His gait as he walked inside was perfectly fine, undrunk if one might, but she Elle was busy in taking in his large frame, his bulging biceps and thick trunk of a torso that descended to a considerably smaller waist.

As he walked in, so did his domineering aura, that seemed to make it hard to breathe. His bloodline was pure and it reflected not just in his form but also the way the very air that surrounded him. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up in caution, the man before her was not a person to be played with. He reeked of alcohol and although he wasn't looking at her, she lowered her eyes in submission. 

Dear Lord, was this the King himself!? When she had entered the manor, Ellie had thought that she would be interviewed by the butler of the house. After all, the King ought to have more important things to look after than interview women for meager posts of writers and communicators. She shivered under his gaze, acutely aware of herself, so self conscious she was that under his scrutinizing gaze she could do nothing but clench her hands and pray for her well being. She hadn't even greeted the King properly! What if he decided to punish her just for that?

Damien looked at the woman who had stared at him with a very disapproving gaze, her eyebrows down in a frown as she pressed her lips in a condemnatory manner. As if she was disapproved of him being drunk, but like he cared?

He walked to his desk, sat down in the thronelike chair and placing the bottle on his desk. She curtsied to him as was appropriate when greeting a man of his station and power. The King demanded respect, as did the throne.

She straightened again but her gaze was downcast, waiting for him to speak.

"Have a seat." He told her through the haze of alcohol that was finally kicking in.

She sat down in the chair, facing him, her lips pursed together. Her legs crossed at the ankles rather than her knees and her hands lay in her lap.

"What's your name?" He asked her.

"My name is Elle, your Highness." she replied. Her voice was like velvet, so entrancing. He could keep on listening to a voice like his for her whole life.

" Meet my gaze, commoner" He wanted to feel her gaze on him, mayhap because he could still feel her disapproval in the frown that had settled on her face. Or probably because her voice was a symphony in his ears, each syllable uttered a musical note in his ears. He was just curious. 

All the alcohol had dimmed his senses, her image was not clear to him as she lifted her face up and looked at her. He heard a sweet gasp escape her mouth though. 

She was momentarily overwhelmed by how handsome he looked. But looks were definitely deceiving, his soul, as she looked at him, appeared to be corrupt. A black shadow in place of a luminescent aura that enlightened a person from within.

"What makes you think you are qualified for the post?" He asked her, opening a drawer and taking out a folder of sorts he kept it in front of him.

"Your Majesty, I would like you to know that I am a literate and have also worked at the Milford Mansion as Duke Milford's assistant."

"My, so I presume Milford sent you here?" he asked her and went through the document before him.

"Yes Milord, he suggested that I come here as he no longer needed an assistant for himself." she answered and and tried to pry her eyes off of his face. She seemed to memorize his features on a blank page of her memory. She chastised herself for ogling the Lord and shifted her gaze away from him again. 

She was very self conscious of herself. For one, she was sitting afore one of the most influential people in the world, The vampire king. And she was in her worn out dress that was sullied by mud splashes. Her feet too were covered in shoes, the soles of which were flattened by overuse.

The Duke had paid her well, but all her income went to the rent of her house and to her meals. She had no relative or family, but that didn't mean that she didn't have expenses of her own. She would rather spend her pennies on books than on clothes.

" You were his assistant?" His piercing gaze suddenly looked up at her, boring straight in her eyes. She held her breath at the intensity of his gaze, he oozed of dominance, as if he knew that there was no one above him. But considering that he was the reigning monarch, it was no surprise. He wasn't wrong doubt her, after all, she was just a woman and a commoner at that? A stray picked up from the streets and given shelter by a Duke. Who would trust her? Sometimes she didn't trust herself. 

She nodded her head, unable to muster up any words.

"Were you the one who handled all the letters being sent out of his mansion?" He asked and went back to reading the document. He was testing her, trying to see through her. If she had lied or gave a wrong answer, he would have her dead. Or thrown in the dungeon for the rest of her life.

"Yes milord." She answered him.

"Last month I received a letter from Milford, can you recite it's subject matter?" he asked her with a raised eyebrow. It was not a wonder that he was doubtful towards her. After all, she did not appear to be a lady capable of withholding a position as such. And in a man's world, the sad reality was that women will always be looked down upon.

"You were sent three letters milord, which one would you like me to remind you of ?" was her smart retort. As if questioning his memory was so going to work in her favor.

He glared at her and kept aside the open folder. As he leaned back in his chair, she was reminded again that she was dealing with the Lord of their kind, a King capable of killing at sight just for the fun of it without being questioned by anyone.

She gulped down and squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze, he interlocked his fingers and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. It was after the words had left her mouth that she realized her insolence. No one talked that way with the King. No one. 

"My apologies, Your Highness." she ducked her head, eyes cast down again.

"The last one." he answered.

She seemed to have lost her breath and voice under his direct accusatory gaze. His voice held a promise that  one wrong word uttered would result in a lifetime spent in a dungeon.

He raised his eyebrow in question as he waited for an answer. A woman like her? All he could see of her now was a blurred form, but how dare she talk back like that?

"Milord, It was about the orphanage. Duke Milford had payed the orphanage a visit for making donations but he found the number of orphans dwindling suspiciously." She rushed with her words in a single breath. Her hands sweaty as she wiped them on her dress, her breath too was coming out in small pants.

He continued glaring at her for a few minutes, not uttering a word as she stared right into her eyes, making her jittery under his dangerous aura.

"You'll work for a week without a pay, if I am satisfied with your work you will be hired. For the time that you will serve me, you are required to stay in the manor. Ask the butler to appoint you a room in the servers quarters." he reached for the bottle, took a large swig and threw the now empty bottle in the waste basket.

She blinked at him a couple of times, trying to comprehend his words.

"Off you go, shoo" He ushered her out like an animal, her already flustered being stumbled as she got up and hastily made her way to the door.