Raven Darkhölme, Bride of Dracula

Reclining in a coffin was a beautiful pale blue skinned woman, her long red hair hung about her as she stared upward with her red and yellow eyes. Her red irises gave off a sheen as she smiled, thinking of her master and the new sister he promised to bring back. He had left her for the last two nights, this being the fourth moon, she wondered why her love was taking so long. Her eyes then wandered to her left, staring at her elderly, former lover, Irene Adler, or Destiny to those closest. She had been changed into a vampyr by Rachel van Helsing as instructed by Dracula. It was through her blood and memories that he found this current bride before Rachel was slain by the Wolverine. The bride shifted her lips, so an inch of her white fangs peeked past her lower lip.

“Irene?” asked the bride.

“Yes, Raven?” replied Destiny.

“Why do you think, Master is taking so long for my new sister?” continued Raven.

“I’m sure he’s taking his time,” added Destiny, “remember, he is ‘courting’ the mutate, Susan Richards. Keep in mind she is a potential Queen, should he succeed.”

“Yes,” said Raven, “you’re right as always, Irene.”

Raven’s eyes shifted as she looked up and smiled, as she closed her eyes she began to remember when she first encountered her master. It was around her time in Europe as Mallory Brickman when she encountered a Romanian Count. Decebal Vladislav Ardelean he said his name was and he was curious on her name. She gave it, thinking nothing of it at the time until she met him in New York during one of her Fashion Shows. He was never in the vicinity of a mirror and always at night or during an extremely cloudy day. It was when she invited him to her apartment for secret meetings of nightly dates, after she said her goodbyes and went to bed that she would wake up feeling weak, light-headed all awhile feeling a stinging sensation on her throat. This kept going on every couple of nights until the eighth night when she turned around to find him behind her.

She was so shocked she cried, “How did you get here?”

“Through the door, my dear,” he answered with an amused smile.

“Don’t look at me!” she cried as she quickly turned her back, she did not want her to see her true appearance.

“Turn around Mallory,” he said, “you don’t need to hide from me.”

She turned around confused, “You don’t find me hideous?”

“Now why would I care for the color of your skin, Miss Darkhölme?” Vlad answered.

Stunned, Raven asked, “How…how long have you known?”

“For quite some time, my dear,” the Count replied.

She knew that they had sexual relations several times and she never showed her true appearance. So, why…why wasn’t he repulsed?

“I’m a mutant you know!” she said.

“Tell me Raven,” he responded, “when did I ever claim to be human?”

Confused Raven spoke, “Does that mean you’re a mutant too…or one of those altered humans?”

“Does it really matter, my dear?” Vladislav asked.

Raven did not know what to say; what was there to say? Out of all the men she had been with, what could she do? The idea of killing him like Kurt’s father came to mind. The next words she heard broke her out of her reverie, “Tell me, Raven, will you be my bride?”

“You want me to marry you?!?” she cried.

Vlad smiled, “In a manner of speaking. There is special ritualistic rite that if you agree to, not only will you be my bride, but you will obtain greater power as well as never have to gaze into a mirror again.”

“Greater power, huh?” she answered, she was interested now, “No more mirrors, right?”

Before Raven knew what hit her, she was in bed with Vlad on top, pining her arms; she could feel his physical strength and knew he was not human. She knew nothing but pleasure of the flesh as she spread her legs and received his large member. It was amazing, all Raven enjoyed was orgasms twice, as she panted, she looked out the glass window and only saw her own reflection and a sudden realization dawned on her, but it was too late. All Raven felt was pleasure as her **** throat was pierced by needle sharp fangs and the draining of her blood. She laid under him, weak and helpless; he then lifted her upper body and supported it with is right arm and used his left hand to position her head while opening her mouth and parting her blue lips. All the while holding her, he put his left wrist and moved so a sharp nail on his right hand cut the skin. His ‘ichor’ flowed as he positioned his left wrist over her lips to ensure the transformation occurred.

“Now, drink my blood,” he commanded, “drink the blood of Dracula.”

Raven obeyed and allowed the blood to flow into her mouth then swallowed. She then passed out and within a few hours Raven awoke, stronger than ever and ready to serve her master both in bed and any other way he saw fit, for that was the **** of Mystique. She knew little of how Destiny insured her meeting with Dracula, and perhaps that was for the best.