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A sigh escaped you as your latest creation climbed up the wall and leapt out a window, the last of the body parts you’d been given taken care of, and you could finally return to your room, going to the calendar to mark the day off, freezing when you glanced at the next day
Dropping the pencil, you ran to your quarters, quickly cleaning off the blood and grime from the day’s work, redressing before you were fully dry, and braiding your wet hair as you made your way through the castle, knocking on his door.
“Enter,” Dracula’s voice beckoned, and you found him sitting in front of the fire, “(Y/N),” he said without turning to look at you, “Everything in order?”
“Yes, Master, but I must make a request.”
“Oh?”
“I require a horse, some supplies, and seven days' leave.”
This time, he did look at you, his brow furrowed as his red eyes swept up and down your form, “Denied. I need you here.”
“Master, I’m afraid this is not an optional leave of absence.”
“Why?”
“My menstrual cycle is due tomorrow. Normally, I would continue working, but with so many vampires in the castle, I fear the scent of fresh blood may place me in danger."
“I agree,” he turned back to the fire, “But I’m afraid I can’t spare you a full week. Everyone in the castle is under orders not to harm you, Isaac, or Hector.”
“And if they lose control?” Not everyone has your discipline. You remember what happened when Hector got cut.”
“You are under my protection. While you are menstruating, I will accompany you to your forge, and you will remain in my quarters when you are not working. Understood?’
“Yes, Master, I will go collect my things, it is likely to start in the night.”
He dismissed you with a flick of his wrist, and you bit back your concerns as you left. He could easily protect you from the vampires who couldn’t control their bloodlust, even in his weakened state, but who would protect you from him?
Hector hadn’t quite noticed, but you and Isaac knew that Dracula had been starving himself. Would he be able to maintain his resolve with a human openly bleeding right in front of him?
***
Dracula allowed you his coffin to sleep in that night as he had no bed, telling you he would have one brought in for you in the morning. You’d never slept in a coffin before, and it felt strange closing yourself in a box, but it was surprisingly comfortable, and after the exhaustion of a full day’s work, it didn’t take long to find sleep.
A crash jerked you from your slumber, and you banged your head on the lid when you tried to sit up, cursing and rubbing the spot before you lifted the lid to look out, finding Dracula mid-fight with a group of young vampires, every one of them freezing and slowly turning to look at you, fangs dripping with saliva.
You blinked and they were halfway to you, but Dracula got there first, slamming the lid shut before the fight resumed. You curled up on your side, hugging your knees to your chest as the scent of your blood grew stronger and stronger, biting back a yelp when the lid lifted, heart stopping as you looked up at Dracula, his pupils dilated and nostrils flaring when the scent hit him full force.
“You should clean yourself up,” he said, voice haggard and strained.
You slipped out of the coffin, scurrying to the en suite. When you glanced back, he was holding the towel you’d lain under yourself in his coffin, his knuckles white from clenching it, your dark blood staining the fabric. He lifted it to his nose, breathing deeply. You closed the door, and he cast it aside.
***
He decided the coffin was a necessary bit of extra security and had one with even softer padding brought to his quarters as he accompanied you to your forge, locking both of you inside. It was like an anxiety dream having what was essentially your boss watching you work, but eventually you found your rhythm and he faded from your mind, standing so still that you forgot he was there until the heat of the day when you shucked off your shirt to work in the bandages you used to bind your breasts so they weren’t in the way while you worked, and he sucked in a sharp breath, making your jump, glad your face was already flushed from the exertion of your work.
“I apologize, Master,” you said, starting to rebutton, “I’m usually alone in here.”
“No, please, if that makes you more comfortable, then by all means.”
Hesitantly, you removed the shirt, tossing it on a box and resuming your work.
He had to fight a few more young vampires before the day was through, and after every fight, he looked more and more haggard, swaying on his feet when you finished for the day, which you pretended not to notice.
That night, a sudden shock of cold woke you, and you opened your eyes to find Dracula standing over you, panting for breath and looking even more pale than usual.
“Is something-”
“There is a horse ready for you in the stables. I’ll give you enough gold to buy supplies.”
“What happened?” you asked, climbing to your feet, and he staggered back, “Are you okay?” You reached to steady him, but he cringed away from your touch.
“Go. Now.”
“You’re weakened, you need to feed.’
“I am not weak,” he snapped.
“When was the last time you fed?”
“That is none of your concern.”
“Yes, it is, you’ve been starving yourself for weeks, and you need to feed.
“(Y/N)-”
You grasped his arm, looking him in the eye, “Revenge is of no use if you die before you can see it through. You must feed, even if only enough to finish your plans.” You lifted your arm, “I offer you my wrist.”
“I can’t-”
“You must.”
“If I drink from you, I won’t be able to stop, I'll take too much.”
“Then I’ll use a knife to fill a goblet.”
“If I smell any more of your blood, I will break.”
“Could.. Could that blood…?” you blushed, looking away.
“It would be better than any other source.”
“Wait, really?” You looked up at him, and he stepped closer, stealing the breath from your lungs as he pressed his cold hand to your womb, voice deeper than you’d ever heard it as his red eyes looked into yours like he was reading your soul.
“Were you with child, that which you now bleed would go to nourishing the thing growing within; it is the most nutritious blood you could offer.”
“Then take it,” you said, barely a whisper.
He closed his eyes, a shudder running through him, “Remove your clothes and lie by the fire.”
You grabbed the towel from your coffin, spreading it over the rug before stripping off your nightgown, carefully positioning yourself atop it, watching him walk closer as he removed his cloak, unbuttoning his shirt and draping it over the back of his chair, his eyes never leaving you, hungrily drinking in your form as he knelt before you.
“Are you quite certain?’
“Yes.”
He grabbed your legs, draping them over his shoulders as he pressed his face between them, his tongue dipping into you, warmer than his icy fingers digging into your thighs, and you could feel the flat front of his fangs pressing into your lips as his tongue scooped out mouthfuls of blood.
A gasp ripped from your lungs, your back arching, fingers gripping the towel so hard you were surprised you didn’t rip it.
His groan vibrated against you, and when you looked down, his eyes were closed in concentration, his hips grinding into the rug. Was this arousing him? The thought and all others fled your head when he pressed two fingers to your clit, rubbing in slow circles, pulling something between a gasp, a moan, and a scream from your lips as you fell apart with a gush he drank in greedily, his feeding growing more frenzied, quickly bringing you to climax again, and before you could even try to catch your breath he was above you, licking the blood from his stained face, something hard and insistent pressed against your thigh.
“Let me-” he gasped, “Let me-”
“Yes!” you cried, fingers fumbling for his pants, but his hands brushed yours aside, ripping open his breaches and plunging into you.
You cried out, ankles locked around him, fingers raking down his back as he set a brutal pace, eyes gone black, fingers finding your clit, and you screamed into your next orgasm, a few more thrusts and he pulled out, gushing cross your stomach, and for a moment neither of you moved until he leaned in to kiss you, tongue tasting of copper, one last thrust before he began kissing down your body, leaving smears of red on your skin, pressing his mouth to you again, drinking until there was no blood left for now before collapsing next to you, breathing hard.
“Hector and Isaac may need to take on some of your work this week.”
“When shall I depart?”
“Never.”
You turned your head to find him looking at you.
“Not unless you wish to.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’m afraid much of your time will be occupied with my head between your legs. I won’t allow you to bleed another drop into rags; I could never allow any more to be wasted.”
“Sounds as if I will have a very busy week.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, “That you will.”