Can the hunted really fall in love with the hunter?
Annalee Harding is an upper-middle classed young woman in 1792 London. She spends her days in her large home daydreaming endlessly, wishing a dark stranger would whisk her away. Her wish comes true after Vincent Moor, an American aristocrat, moves into the dark manor just outside of town. He catches her eye; his dark aura draws her in until she finds out that he is unlike other gentlemen—being over a hundred years old and thirsting for blood.
I turned and looked towards the fireplace, feeling the heat beating off of it, warm and comforting. I let my head fall back on the plush armchair, my eyes slowly beginning to close as the heat wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I wasn’t asleep. I was in that lovely in-between place; I was aware of everything around me, yet my mind was wandering. Of course, it wandered back to the same person, his beautiful eyes looking deep into mine. I could see my newcomer looking at me as Dale had never and would never look at me, lovingly, perhaps even…lustfully?
I suddenly felt a cold chill enter the room. I opened my eyes slowly before looking about, specifically to the fire, worrying that it was going to die out, but it was strong as ever. It seemed the heat from it was strangled, stifled from the immense draft that wafted in.
I then got the feeling of eyes on me, like someone was watching. I stood up slowly, putting my book on the table beside the armchair, looking around once more. The room empty, of course, not even Higgins was in the room, which was still quite cold.
I turned and grabbed my shawl off the chair, wrapping it around myself tightly, hugging my shoulders.
I walked out of the room and into the hall, making my way to the staircase. I stopped, the feeling of being watched continuing. I turned behind me and looked around.
“Bess? Is that you? I think I am going to go off to bed now.”
I looked down the hallway, seeing nothing and no one. My heart sped up, fear slithering up my spine.
There is no one there. You are just being foolish.
As I turned around, knocked into Bess and let out a scream.
“My God, child! You scared me half to death!” She put her hand over her heart.
“You? What about me, dear Lord.” I panted heavily, adrenaline running through me.