AN: Hello, wonderful people! Thank you for your amazing support!

 I had this chapter on stand-by for a few days, I am not completely content with it, but it helps with the progression of the plot. :D And we get to see a picture of our lovely hero above! *fans herself*.

Hope you like it! :O If you do, leave some love, please! :)

fearsome_hamster

After donning on a soft looking dress, Margo hesitantly climbed down the stairs leading to the small dining room of their house. Her body glided slowly across the dark flight of stairs, trying to delay meeting her grandmother as much as possible. Nana always had the uncanny gift of guessing her  feelings, no matter how hard she tried to hide them - her grandmother was a true balm for the soul when the troubles proved too hard to conquer alone. However, this time was completely different. How could she even begin to explain the crazy chain of events that had become her life in just one night? Margo feared even Nana's forward thinking would have trouble grasping that. She certainly did not.

Entering the kitchen, the sweet delicious aroma of French toast invaded her senses, making her momentarily forget her concerns. That was the true mark of a dessert done right.

"Margo, there you are child! I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up," Nana warmly greeted her, already arranging a full plate in front of her.

"Good morning, Nana. Thank you! I apologise for not giving you a hand preparing breakfast. It was a truly long night yesterday," said Margo sighing deeply and avoiding eye contact. That must have been the understatement of the century.

"Shush, child. Of course, I do not mind." Then, Nana added sneakily while winking "And I especially do not mind if it was that handsome Benjamin keeping you awake last night."

"Nana!" a red-faced Margo screeched loudly while Thomas furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, continuing to gorge himself with toast.

"Nana, why would Margo and Ben be up together? Were they playing chess? Because I don't really like that game. It's so dull," pouted Thomas, completely missing the innuendo. Thank heavens for that.

"Thomas dear, I'm afraid you are still too young for this conversation. Just trust your wise grandmother when she tells you that adults have much more entertaining games than chess," stated Nana wistfully. "With a few well-placed strategic moves, both parties can be winners actually."

Thomas disbelievingly raised his brows even more. "Your dear late grandfather certainly knew what he was doing," the jovial old woman went on explaining while fanning herself.

 By this point, Margo took it upon herself to cover her little brother's ears. "Nana, please," exasperatedly called the young woman.

"Alright, alright. A tale for another time then, my shy peas," smiled the old woman while hugging her two beloved grandchildren. Just then, the peaceful atmosphere of the dining room was broken by another much more frigid presence's appearance. The laughter immediately ceased. Margo could even swear the temperature dropped by a few degrees.

Lord HartWell.

Or as Margo so infrequently referred to him, her and Thomas' father. The imposing man before them hardly resembled the loving parent he used to be while Lady HartWell was still alive.

Margo remembered the dreadfully painful weeks following her mother's unexpected death. Thankfully, Thomas was still too young at the tender age of four to remember their family falling apart at the very seams.  As a consequence of his love's passing, her father had soon taken up gambling, choosing to drown himself in misleading games of cards and liquour. Quickly enough, the HartWell fortune started dwindling away like grains of sand on outstreched fingers and their renowned bloodline became the town's laughing joke.

However, the real tragedy laid not in their novel poverty, but in the cruel, unfeeling person that now stood for their paternal figure.

"Nana, I told you time and time again to cease your sickly affectionate behaviour towards my children. They are already too spoilt for their own good," Lord HartWell coldly stated while frowning slighly at the remaining slices of French toast. "And Margo, be sure to prepare an actual decent dinner, not this poor excuse, for tomorrow night. A new fellow gentleman is visiting us - he has just arrived in town and is interested in condoning business with us," he proudly announced, greed painting his face in ugly wrinkles.

What you actually mean is that he is a new gambling fellow with whom you are going to waste the already little coins we have, thought Margo bitterly. On the outside, she merely nodded respectfully. Lord HartWell was known to have a volatile temperament and an even heavier hand, a fact she occasionaly felt.

"Yes, father."

Lord Hartwell's dark eyes, so much like her own and yet so intrinsically different, filled up with hungry satisfaction, a frightening smile overtaking his features. Seeing his commands respected, he promptly left the kitchen. Probably on the way of emerging himself in another alcoholic haze.

Margo released the breath she did not realise she was holding and relaxed her shoulders. Meeting her father had always been nerve-wrecking, a reality that also applied to her companions judging by their scared gazes.

After helping Nana clean up the table and offering advice for Thomas' reading exercises, Margo felt the need to get a a much-desired breath of fresh of air. Being cooped up in the mansion all day could be suffocating. Especially when weighted down by a vivid imagination which painted monsters jumping from every dark corner of the house.

Stepping into the cold weather, her steps unconsciously guided her back to the ancient cemetery. The young woman convinced herself that it was just morbid curiosity determining her to see what had become of Boore Quintus' savaged corpse. However, a little voice in her mind whispered the truth. Something, someone was whispering for her to come back ever since she woke up that morning. I think I have officially gone insane.

As expected, the dead body had been removed. Yet, that did not make the scene any less traumatising, even in broad daylight. Horrific dark crimson stains were splattered on every corner of the desecrated tomb, the demonic head statue finally having received its human sacrifice. Too late, she wondered if the unusual stone decoration was meant to serve as a warning. It is all in vain now.

She tentatively bent down to touch the cold ground. The pit was now fully covered with dirt, giving no indication of the demon that had arisen from it. She wondered if the creature was the one to cover its tracks. He certainly seemed cunning enough. After all, he had already discovered the place she lived. Terror crossed her spine at this thought. 

Her fingers slowly embedded in the soft mud. A gentle breeze started to play with the strands of her hair. Perhaps the awful nightmare was taking its toll on her, but Margo could almost hear a whisper echoing in the frigid air. She strained her ears to hear better. 

"Margo.."

She could distinguish now. It was her name being called. That was what she been listening to the entire morning!

"Margo... come to me"

Almost caught in a spell, her eyes glazed over and slowly her form started to bend down, as if trying to kiss the very cursed tomb in front of her. Her lips were almost touching the soft ground when an angry raspy voice grumbled behind her.

"Miss, ya should not be here. This is not a sight for the faint-hearted, especially for ladies," he responded strictly as he ushered her further away. The moment the police officer lightly touched her arm, the breeze escalated into a ferociously strong wind, an angry storm of leaves invading the cemetery. The man viciously swore, tightly holding the hat atop his head with both hands.

The girl eased out of her mysterious trance. Ignoring the slight jab at her sex representatives, Margo instead chose to pry for more information.
"Sir, there was so much blood there. Something truly terrible must have occurred ..."

"Indeed, Miss. I'll tell ya since this will be the talk of town for a very long time. Boore's second eldest son was just murdered sometime yesterday. We believe he was the poor victim of some rabid animal," the officer explained.

Well, they got one thing right. It was a vicious animal's attack indeed. It was just that their definitions did not coincide...

..................

After the fruitless conversation, Margo rapidly sprinted back to the mansion while the sun was still gracing the sky. She did not want to chance another encounter with the monster.   Dejectedly, she realised the rest of her life would transpire under the empire of fear, forever running from the inescapable night and haunted by strange whispers.

Now, in her room, Margo was pensively brushing her wavy dark hair in front of the long mirror facing her bed. Her reflection was starting to show the gloomy thoughts hauting her mind lately. Dark bags decorated her eyes, evidence of her nightmarish sleep and her already ivory skin now looked deathly pale. If the creature was not going to end her, her mad thoughts surely would bring her to an early grave. Raising the brush to tame another unruly curl, the still painful scratches on her arm reopened and bled slightly.

Paying them no mind, Margo forced her heart to calm its beating when she noticed the encompassing darkness outside. Who cares about some minor wounds when an unholy beast was stalking her?  Getting into bed after wrapping some bandages on her wounds, the girl sent a quick prayer for a peaceful sleep while closing her tired eyelids.

Too bad something far more terrible was going to happen that night.

......................

"Margo..."

Snapping awake, Margo sleepily rubbed her eyes, shivering slightly. She could have sworn she heard her name being whispered. Again. She suppressed a yawn, while rubbing her arms up and down. It was a cold night. The sensible choice would probably be to check for thieves, but her sheets were far too temptingly warm to leave and she was also enjoying a well deserved dreamless sleep.

Looking at the sky, the girl judged she still had a few hours till morning. She dove back under the comforter, clutching a tatterred teddy bear close to her chest. She would never admit it out loud, but the fuzzy toy was one of her most prized possessions.

Ben will never let me live this down if he ever were to find out. Margo giggled sleepily while snuggling deeper into the pillow.

"Are you not just adorable, little mate?" a husky masculine voice whispered above her, the owner's voice tickling her forehead.

Terror blossomed furiously inside her, threatening to suffocate her with its intensity. The moment she opened her mouth to scream, a heavy hand plastered itself on her moist lips. She started trashing around and barred her teeth, sinking them into the soft skin of her opressor.

However, it did not have the desired effect. On the contrary, the still hidden man let out an unmistakable grunt of pleasure, his other hand winding itself tightly around her waist and his warm head resting on her chest.

"You are not playing fair, little one. If you wanted to start biting, I should only return the favour." Saying this in a still breathless voice tinted with sensuality, the man rose his head slightly off of her, the moon shining brightly on his face.

Margo gasped. It...could not be. It was the creature! Completely healed, the monster resembled one of God's fallen angels. If it were so, his sin would have definitely been lust, for his looks could tempt even a nun into depravity. His strong defined jaw encased full lips which looked created for carnal endeavours exclusively. Though, their softness was pierced by two pearly fangs pressing upon them, revealing the true demonic nature of the male above her. He leaned a bit closer to her, his dark silken locks caressing her forehead.

Despite all his attractive features, it was his deep unaturally indigo eyes that made Margo snap out of her daze. This time, she could finally stare back into the orbs that had watched her so intentively before. And like before, the same possessive mad glint was lurking beneath them.

She buckled herself up, trying to lift him off of her. Easy to say, it would have been more simple to raise thousands of bricks than this beast. She fumed. Meanwhile, the creature was just staring patiently at her, as if willing to amuse her antics.

"Get off me, you brute!" Margo screamed, frustrated tears starting to mist her gaze. Instead of focusing on the present, her treacherous mind kept sending her painful flashbacks of Quintus' form on top of hers. The way he violently pinned her down, the way he tried to pry her legs open...

Almost sensing the shift in her thoughts, the beast started purring as if attempting to comfort her.

"Sshhh, my mate, my intention is not to hurt you. I am here to heal you. Shhh, calm down," he whispered, stroking her hair. Softly holding her down, his voice turned hypnotic as the irises in his eyes changed into crescent moons, almost resembling a lethal feline.

"Lay still, my mate."

Margo had no choice but to obey him, her body turning completely pliant under his. A sense of deja-vu filled her entire being. That was what occurred in that bloody graveyard, as well.

Next, he gently craddled her right arm, bit the gauze off and did one of the least expected things she could have imagined. Ever. Not even her hidden romances described something like this. To her mortification, he started licking her scraches, every stroke of his tongue careful to cover any inch of wounded skin. Had she been able to move, she would have flinched away from the ticklish sensation. Soon after, he let her go and procedeed to do the same for the other one. It did not escape Margo's notice how diligent he was in his task, his fangs never accidently scratching her, despite their fierce appearance.

Much too slow for Margo's taste, the beast finished licking her arms. By this point, he was breathing deeply, his powerful chest rising and falling rapidly. He let his forehead fall on hers, his nose inhaling her constantly. Somehow, he reminded Margo of the stories Ben used to tell her, of how men could become addicted to certain substances and go into withdrawal without them. She hoped she was not his.

"This is not the right way." His tone was laced with frustration. "I need to go, I need to go". He kept repeating as if trying to convince himself of something.

Then, the second surprise of that endless night followed.

Giving in to his instinctual urges, the beast rapidly bent down and pressed his soft lips to hers. Even though it was just a simple caress, his touch was unpologetic, as if taking something that belonged to him from the start of time.

What an ass!!! This is my first bloody kiss, you oaf! How dare you!, angrily thought Margo while her form refused to obey her violent impulses. At least, her eyes hopefully sent across her message. When he lifted his gaze after a few endless moments, the incorrigible beast had the nerve to grin. He actually seemed to enjoy seeing her eyes glare daggers at him.

"See you very soon, my little one," he quickly laid a peck on her forehead, letting his lips trail her temples. "Until then...Forget."

That very next instant, Margo fell soundly asleep, completely forgetting about the encounter with the predator gazing at her lovingly in the night.