by Angel A.
Sophie needed a moment of quiet. The kids were screaming again and
rambunctious, but then they always got that way after a rain. She gazed
out onto the damp sand of the beach and sighed as the sun flooded the coast
with rays. Her group played peacefully in the sense that their enjoyment
caused their noise and not their tendency to torture each other. She
daydreamed about the next summer, the summer after she received her degree
with honors from the university. No more summers serving as a camp
counselor to pampered rich brats on a deserted island.
Still, there was nowhere on Earth that she could deem more beautiful than this private island in the Mediterranean Sea.
That was before little Pierre threw an empty soda can at her head, missed, and knocked over a lamp.
Well, music could always be her private escape.
So, when Katherine relieved her, Sophie returned to her cabin for her violin. As the sun began to kiss the horizon with the early embraces of dusk, she took the violin to the beach. She propped herself on her favorite rock and began to play. Her eyes were gently closed as her body rocked with the rhythm of the music and the sound of the breaking waves. The smell of salt tickled her noise.
She heard a clamor in the distance. Someone was rowing a boat.
Sophie opened her eyes. In the distance, like a profile against the expanding colors of the sunset, there stood a large wooden ship with tall sails. Coming toward the shore was a massive rowboat with two figures in it, one rowing the heavy oars and another reclining in the bow. She squinted to try and make out the scene better.
Birdwatching! She had taken the kids birdwatching today and the binoculars were still hanging around her neck. Sophie placed the violin in its case and pulled the binoculars up to her eyes. The ship in the distance had striped sails and a black flag . . .
There is no such thing as pirates, at least not in big wooden ships, not in this day and age. There was only one logical explanation. It was staged. It's another way to entertain the kids.
She grabbed the violin and went down shore to meet the rowboat when it landed.
The sun was down now. The beach looked gorgeous in the silver blue light of early nightfall. Sophie was about 20 feet away when she saw the rower pull the boat ashore as the figure in the bow hopped out. She moved closer. The breeze caused the rider's white shirt to billow. He had a colored sash belted across his hips and he even carried a sword with a fancy gold hilt.
He saw her, took a step toward her, and for some reason Sophie found herself removing the ring from her finger that depicted Christ on the cross.
He probably wanted her to play hostage or something.
Suddenly, he disappeared from view. In that same second, something gripped her wrist fiercely and twisted her hand behind her back. Sophie dropped her violin. She whimpered.
"I do grow tired of your pathetic reactions," a voice said from behind her.
A voice that Sophie knew and had carelessly forgotten the danger of.
He turned her to face him. Sure enough, the pirate in the tight black pants and sleek black boots had the cunning smile and evil glitter to his eye that she had only ever seen on one creature, Count Dracula. As he turned her, Lucard noticed a reflection stemming from an object in her hand. He plucked it away from her. The ring fell to the sand and was washed away by the water. Lucard placed his hand on her shoulder and she felt her tension dissolve when Lucard leaned forward and kissed her.
Sophie was left paralyzed by the sheer dreamlike quality of it all. She wasn't sure whether to be repulsed or attracted by the whole affair. By the end of his embrace and a few other attentions that one would not expect from one's archenemy, Sophie simply collapsed into the sand and watched the rowboat return to the main ship.
Perhaps she slept a bit.
She woke with her clothes tousled, hair a mess and her sensibilities greatly altered. And she was missing a few buttons. Sophie stumbled in a daze back to her cabin where she did think to check her neck for marks.
Than what was that all about?
Maybe . . .
No. . .
But. . .
Did Lucard . . .
A strange burning sensation consumed her and she blushed.
Back at the castle, Lucard sat before the fire with Klaus, in one of his more obedient phases, by his side.
"I don't understand what value you would find in the seduction of her," he said with evident distaste of Lucard's deed.
"Of course, you don't," Lucard replied. "Fantasy and emotion and pleasure are all deeply intertwined things. Each one as equally fickle as the others."
"But why toy with her without even a drink for yourself?" asked Klaus in his normal impatient tones.
"Because by successfully seducing my enemy, Klaus, I have managed to destroy one of the fundamental principles of her mind."
"How is that?"
"Because she will never look at me with such blind hatred again. I have changed my status as something to be feared into something to be desired."
"And what does that achieve?" Klaus answered curtly.
"She was on our side once, Klaus, and I was reminding her of the exhilaration I can offer. Or call it a mind game. Imagine the possibilities if I could use my charms to get Maximilian or Christopher under my influence."
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