Page 34 of Dracula: Bound in Blood

Then, to Jonathan’s surprise, Dracula laughed. A rich, genuine sound seemed to light up the room. “You are impossible, Solicitor,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely impossible.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but feel that rush of triumph. “Does this mean I can stay?” he asked, stepping closer to the Count.

Dracula’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, Jonathan thought he might close the distance between them, might take him in his arms and kiss him senseless. But instead, the Count sighed, a sound filled with equal parts fondness and resignation.

“Yes, you stubborn creature,” he said softly. “You win for now.”

With that, Dracula turned and left the room, leaving Jonathan alone with his racing thoughts and the lingering scent of the Count’s presence.

The Next Night

The day was uneventful. Jonathan spent the day in a flurry of activity, his mind racing with ideas on how to introduce the Count to the modern world. There was so much to cover—technology, politics, social customs—that he scarcely knew where to begin.

As darkness fell, Dracula stirred from his daytime slumber. Even before his eyes opened, he sensed Jonathan’s presence in the castle, the young man’s energy pulsing through the very stones of the building. It was a curious sensation, as if the castle itself had come alive with Jonathan’s vitality.

Vigo appeared silently, ready to assist his master in preparing for the night ahead. As the old servant helped him dress, Dracula couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed within his ancient home. The air seemed less stagnant, and the shadows were less oppressive. He wondered if he was imagining things or if Jonathan’s presence truly had such a profound effect on his surroundings.

“How is our... guest faring?” Dracula asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

A knowing smile played at the corners of Vigo’s weathered mouth. “Master Harker has been quite busy, my lord. He’s madesome interesting arrangements for the evening. I believe you should see for yourself.”

Intrigued despite himself, Dracula set out to find Jonathan. The young solicitor’s heartbeat led him to the ballroom, which had stood empty and neglected for centuries. As he pushed open the ornate doors, he froze in astonishment.

The ballroom had been transformed. Dust and cobwebs were banished, replaced by a gleaming elegance that harkened back to the castle’s glory days. Candles flickered in polished sconces, their warm light reflecting off the newly polished floor. At the center of it all stood Jonathan, a proud smile on his face.

“Ah, Count!” Jonathan exclaimed. “I’m glad you’re here. Tonight’s lesson is one every modern man must know - dancing.”

Dracula arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Dancing? Jonathan, I assure you I am quite proficient in the art of dance. I’ve attended more balls than you can imagine.”

Jonathan’s smile widened. “I’m sure you have, Count. But times have changed. While undoubtedly elegant, the dances of your era are a bit... outdated. Allow me to introduce you to some more contemporary steps.”

Despite his initial reluctance, Dracula found himself intrigued. He watched as Jonathan demonstrated a series of moves, his body moving with a fluid grace that caught the vampyre’s eye.When Jonathan held out his hand in invitation, Dracula took it without hesitation.

Their first attempts were awkward, with Dracula struggling to adapt to the less formal style. But as they continued, laughter began to fill the room. Jonathan’s patience and enthusiasm were infectious, and soon, even Dracula smiled as they twirled around the ballroom.

“You’re a quick study, Count,” Jonathan said, slightly breathless. “Now, show me one of your dances. I want to see how the nobility moved in your time.”

Dracula’s eyes lit up at the challenge. He took Jonathan’s hand, placing it on his shoulder, then assumed the proper stance. With practiced ease, he led Jonathan through the steps of a courtly dance, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft with nostalgia, “my father used to throw the most magnificent balls when I was a boy.”

Jonathan’s eyes lit up with interest. “Really? What were they like?”

Dracula smiled, twirling Jonathan gently. “Oh, they were spectacular affairs. The castle would be filled with music and laughter. Ladies in glittering gowns that seemed to float as they moved, their faces hidden behind elaborate masks.”

“Masks?” Jonathan asked, intrigued.

“Yes,” Dracula chuckled. “It was all the rage then. The more intricate the mask, the more admired you were. I remember one gentleman who wore a mask fashioned to look like a golden phoenix. The beak alone must have been worth a small fortune.”

Jonathan laughed, picturing the scene. “It sounds wonderful. Did you enjoy these balls?”

Dracula’s smile turned wistful. “I did, though perhaps not as much as I should have. I was young, you see, and more interested in sneaking away to the kitchens for extra sweets than in dancing with the young ladies.”

“I can just picture a young Count Dracula, pockets stuffed with stolen pastries,” Jonathan teased.

Dracula’s laughter echoed through the ballroom. “You’re not far off, solicitor. Not far off at all.”

“It must have been breathtaking.”

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