AN: Wonderful people, I'm back! Sorry for the long wait, I'm horrible, I know I said this would come earlier...but at least it's here now, right? *hides away from splash of rotten tomatoes*.

I also have a surprise for you. Something VERY VERY BIG is going to happen in the second half of the chapter. So excited to hear your opinions about it! :D

Thank you as always for your support, guys! I could not have made it here without you. HUGS! LOVE!

Fearsome Hamster

PS: That's how I envision Zachary's manor.

The sun had already set when the carriage arrived at its destination, their fancy transport oh so graciously provided by Lord Frost. Dark foreboding clouds were heavy in the evening sky, warning any travellers not to dare venture outside tonight if they valued their life. Nature itself had been deadly quiet on their journey, even the crickets' song muted in fear. All wild animals hidden away in their nests, as if waiting for a terrible storm to strike down and tear everything in its path. Something dark was indeed brewing 

Still, her father had not backed down, insisting to honour her fiancee's invitation to his house. Of course, HartWell would not let such an opportunity pass by. 

Ignoring her father's outstretched palm, Margo stepped out of the elegant cabin and stared at the imposing structure before her. His home was not an ordinary abode just like the owner himself– the stunning stone manor rose high, an ancient man-made giant among the forest trees surrounding it. Gothic grey towers were guarding each side of it, their high arched windows revealing nothing but encompassing darkness. During the Old Times, this place must have surely belonged to a mistrustful king with enemies aplenty. It was easy to imagine archers positioned on each strategic balcony and fatally shooting any trespassers. The unforgiving November air swept, making her tremble and wish she were not so out in the open, as if the ghosts of those soldiers were very much alive and targeting her with their crossbows.

Strangely, the small castle,  reminded her of the man responsible for so many of her troubles and pleasures lately. Dark, unreachable and solitary. Her heart pulsed painfully. How she wished she were wrong about him. Why did he have to force himself in her life and prove otherwise?

Out of the corner of her eyes, Margo noticed the curtain of a dimly lit chamber move. Was that him watching them?

"Imagine how rich he is to have such a palace. And if the rumours are true, it's not his only one," her father snickered, walking proudly in front of her and Nana as if he already owned the place.  

Behind her, bouncy steps accelerated on the wet pavement. Her brother was also in a daze seeing the humongous mansion and garden. He most likely viewed everything as a big playground field.

Too bad Thomas had accompanied them as well on this visit. Margo hated it when her little sibling was forced to see this dark avaricious side of their parent. And it was only going to be uglier as the night progressed. The richer the people, the more HartWell would try to get in their good graces. And Zachary was a very wealthy man if his opulent behaviour so far was anything to go by. 

Wealthy enough to buy people and mould them to his own dark desires without their consent. Her treacherous heart twisted at this cruel condemnation, while her head burnt with resentment. She could still not believe he had left without her job at the tavern.

Besides her, Nana rubbed her hand comfortingly. Her grandmother was the only to know her misery. Between whispered words and hair tugs to bend her insolent locks into a semblance of submission, she confessed to Nana about Zachary. Unfortunately, not even her sweet consolations could calm the ravage caused by his actions.

As she was climbing the last couple of stone steps to the manor's entrance, the strong wooden double doors suddenly swung open. Two male servants were waiting for the family. Once inside, warmth started blossoming on her frozen cheeks. Just as expected, the interior was as stunning if not more than what the exterior of the manor suggested. However, Margo's envious gaze only fell on the grande finely crafted fireplace dominating the opposite wall of the beautiful parlour. She longed to thaw her frozen fingers near the flames.

"Good evening," the attendants bowed their head while turning to help the guests out of their heavy cloaks. When one of them approached Margo, a dark striking presence made itself known behind her. The hairs on her neck raised while her heart sang a fast paced song. 

Only one person could cause this flurry of emotions in her.

Zachary.

"I shall handle it," his voice was deceivingly calm, but the underlying order was crystal clear. Get away from her. At this, the poor servant instantly stepped from her and disappeared from the room.  She did not turn towards him while his strong sure fingers worked her cloak off her form. She did not fail to notice his touch lingering on her shoulders. 

"You are frozen, my love." He admonished gently, turning her towards him and taking her hands in his warm clasp. Now that she faced him, Margo let her gaze rest on him. It was not fair that a devilish man should be this handsome. He was dressed in an expensive black velvet coat, specifically tailored to fit his broad shoulders while a crisp white shirt peaked out underneath it. A white bow encircled his powerfully corded neck like a present.

 Ashamed at her obvious perusal, her gaze lowered, glad he did not notice. He was still focused on bringing the warmth back in her limbs. Tenderly, he massaged her cold skin, the blood flowing again properly at his caresses.

Margo wanted to hold on to her righteous fury, but at his sensually attentive touch, she felt it slowly slipping away like water. She had to get away from him.

Still holding one of her hands captive in his, despite her half-hearted struggles, he turned towards Nana. "I am glad to have the pleasure to see you again, Ms HartWell. I've only heard wonderful things about you, my Lady," he raised her grandmother's hand and brought it to his lips. Her Nana kept her composure, but Margo noticed the blush betraying her emotions She could not blame her. Next, Zachary shook Thomas's who excitedly asked about their next visit to the house farm. The seductive man only winked, turning to smile at her.

"That is entirely up to your sister, champion. She is the master," however at her emotionless expression, Zachary's boyish grin dissolved into a frown. He had obviously charmed his way into her family, but she would not fall victim to his spell as well. She knew what he was truly capable of underneath that angelic visage.

Lastly, a now tense Zachary only shared a short nod with her father. Lord HartWell' pride must have been severely injured for this rude acknowledging of his person. Margo could not help but feel a short burst of satisfaction.

"Let us proceed to the dining room, I have had my chef prepare only the best for tonight. It is a great day after all," Zachary squeezed her hand, not relinquishing his now possessive hold on her. That was pattern of this chaotic man she was beginning to decipher. The more she resisted, the more he tightened his control on her, as if afraid she would flee. Only when they arrived in the immense chamber, did she manage to distract him and take a seat opposite his, not adjacent like he had desired. 

As soon as she had her chair pulled out, Margo realised her error in judgement when Zachary's frustrated smoldering gaze pinned her in place. The dim light of the candles cast flickering shadows on his face, igniting the indigo in his orbs.

She would now suffer his intensity for the rest of the dinner. Something whispered that not even if she had chosen the seat at the opposite end of the vast dining table would she have gotten rid of him. 

Margos sighed. It was going to be a long feast.

As predicted, the night dragged on slowly and painfully. While the delicacies served were indeed mouth-watering, no one could dispel the tension that settled over them. Zachary had tried endlessly to engage her in conversation with him, seeking her gaze but never succeeding– her answers were brief and never invited other topics. While he obliged her Nana and answered her grandmother's numerous questions, it was soon clear it was Margo he longed to talk to. Meanwhile, her father trudged on in his attempt to approach subjects pertaining to coins and finance, trying fruitlessly to turn everything in his favour. However, Lord Frost barely acknowledged him.

Out of the entire ordeal, Thomas was possibly the only one truly content. Being still too young to sense the strain of the conversations around him, he was the sole one to appreciate the chef's work. It was a long time since he had seen so much food. And even better, Margo seemed too distracted to watch over how much chocolate he gorged himself on.

When dessert was finally served, the pressure had reached a suffocating level. Margo unconsciously tightened her grip on the intricate cloth decorating the oak table when her father opened another uncomfortable topic.

"Lord Frost, I am a man nearing my painful years of life. I have only one daughter and you're taking my only precious gift away leaving me with nothing," HartWell pitifully complained even daring to smooth his hand down her cheek. Her gaze immediately darted to Thomas, scared her sensitive brother would take their father's words to heart. Luckily, he was happily munching on his vanilla cake. 

How dare HartWell spew such dishonest hurtful affirmations in front of Thomas and Zachary, he had no shame. Her blood started boiling in her veins. She gripped the closest object to her, needing an outlet for her anger.

 "You are intimately acquainted with my family's situation," her father smiled, the greed apparent, "or should I say ours now. When my boy grows, he will have nothing to inherit, I may not even have the coins necessary to take care of him. I may even be–"

She tightened her fingers on whatever she was holding, her breath coming far too quickly to be healthy.

 Lord HartWell pretended to choke a sob, for she could easily see through his theatrics and continued "–may even be forced to send him to an orphanage–"

The young woman saw red when she heard this.

"How dare you!" Margo jumped from her seat in indignation, the chair falling to the carpeted floor, while she registered a faint shock of pain in her right hand. In the background, she heard a strong male voice yell out her name in panic. She could not believe the aberrations their so called father had said. 

Give up on her dear brother? Never. Never would she allow such a monstrosity to happen. 

All of a sudden, somebody embraced her tightly and whispered in her ear hotly: "We need to take care of your injury, little one." Looking down, she noted the bleeding slash on her palm and the crimson stained cutlery. So it was a knife she had been grasping for dear life. Bewildered, she let it drop.

"Thomas, he–," she tried to say.

"Shhh, shhh, I will take care of all your problems. For now, let me take care of you first," Zachary murmured, sending a piercing glare towards her father. "Stay where you are, HartWell," compulsion seeped his glacial tone. He knew he should have killed the human when he had the chance. The father was proving to be much more trouble than he was worth. His beast agreed viciously.

"Excuse us for a moment, I will take Margo to some fresh air," he announced to Nana and Thomas, ushering the fuming young woman out of the dining chamber. His instincts demanded him to punish his mate's reason for fury and sooth her. The former was impossible. For now.

Passing vast hallways each with more paintings and sculptures than the previous, the couple finally arrived in a quiet saloon on the east wing of the manor. There Zachary tenderly placed Margo on a soft padded sofa. The only light in the chamber was provided by a slow burning fireplace, with the occasional branches hitting the window panes and breaking the silence.

A man on a mission, Zachary rapidly unwound the elegant tie around his neck, teared a part of it and wrapped dutifully around her injury. 

It was an intimate atmosphere, making Margo all too aware she and the towering man were alone together. Perhaps too ease her discomfort, Zachary slowly kneeled in front of her taking her hands prisoners again. She felt trapped, instead of comforted.

"Your father is an insensible man, I can easily imagine the childhood you must have had by his side." His features tightened with repressed anger. "The past is impossible to change, yet the future is within our grasp. And I promise you, I will ensure a good future for us." His voice roughened with emotion.

Centuries had passed cruelly over him, desolate with the painful knowledge he might not have the only thing keeping many of his kind sane. Now, he had found her. His light in eons of darkness. He would be damned to let her walk away. His sense was screaming at him to wait a bit more, to let her come to terms with their bond. 

However, his beast could wait to no more. Already it was snarling at him in impatience, not understanding the forced etiquette keeping him away from her. 

Margo watched many emotions flash across his face in rapid succession– her fiancee seemed at war with himself. Suddenly, as if coming to a conclusion, he reached in one of his coat's pockets and fisted something with resolution. When he opened his fingers, the object took Margo's breath away. 

Talk about bad timing. It was a ring. Majestically encrusted with tiny white diamonds which encircled a sumptuous blood ruby. How could he think she would accept this after what he had done?

Without waiting for her permission, he slipped it on her finger. Not surprisingly, it was a perfect fit. She was trembling with conflicting feelings when his gleeful indigo eyes pierced hers. "You are shivering, my little one. I vow I shall be a good husband. There is no–"

She leapt from the sofa. She could not bear to hear another sweet word. "Do you truly not understand?" She hunched into herself, her pain too heavy to carry. Zachary was just a beautiful mirage, her senses lulled into a false sense of security. But, when she looked further to his core, it was all smoke and shadows.

A tortured expression crossed his face seeing her like this. When he fought to take her into his arms, she jerked out of reach. She looked like a wounded animal. She felt like one too.

"You are just like him. Controlling and not giving a damn about others. Why did you have to go behind my back and leave me without job at the tavern?" She continued "It was not much, but it helped make ends meets. I know you cannot possibly understand what desperation is," Margo waved at the lavish paintings gracing the walls.

She could not have been more wrong.

Her tears were torturing him. In one quick stride, he lunged in her direction and caught her. "I am well acquainted with desperation, my love. I feel it everytime you are rejecting me so mercilessly. As for your job, you can't possibly believe I would let you work in such a dangerous environment. I have seen how you're treated," he peeled his lips in an animalistic fashion remembering Boore's sullied hands on his Margo and his pitiful screams when he died.

He pinned her form on the cold glass of the high arched window. Outside, a tempest was brewing. The frost coming behind could not compare with the frigid madness in Zachary's eyes.

"And who is this person you are comparing me to?" his thunderous raged voice turned into a calm whisper. His tone was completely opposite to his body language, his form plastered over hers and ceasing any attempts of escape.

Margo fought his grip in vain. He was too strong. "I was wrong about you, you are like my father, a person who destroys everything around him," she hissed.  "I will never tie my destiny to yours. You are a monster." Her stabbing words were punctuated with defiance. In a stroke of luck, she managed to free her hands and flung his engagement ring in one far corner of the room.

Her open rejection hurt him. Deeply. The beast in Zachary snapped its chains. 

His fingers began inching towards her neck, a pure gesture of domination between vampire mates, while one arm caught her injured hand.

"You could not have been more right, my love." His sudden laugh sent beads of sweat trickling under her corset. When he grinned, shock stilled any movement. "I am a monster." He had...he had fangs. Pearly white, extremely sharp fangs. "I am a monster who will do anything to be with his obsession."  He kissed her chin.  

"I a monster who will kill anyone to protect you." He leaned closer and kissed her nose, whispering. "Just like I did with that pathetic excuse of a man in the graveyard."

She felt ready to faint.

He kissed her forehead. "I am monster who will use any means to free you from a life of slavery," he started tearing the bandage protecting her hurt hand. "That is why I bought you from your father."

In her struggle, her slash opened again, blood flowing freely. Margo started crying helplessly, Zachary, or better said the creature was finally going to finish his job long started in the cemetery. Terror-stricken, she watched his pupils turn into thin crescent moons when he brought her now bare palm closer to his face. He opened his mouth, his deadly canines ready to strike.

Outside, angry drops of rain hit the window glass, a funeral march for her soon demise. She readied herself for his bite.

A bite which never came.

His tongue touched her wound and started licking. The taste of her blood was pure ambrosia sent by the gods. But her injury needed to be taken care of. Even when healed smooth skin greeted his lips, his kisses lingered.

The moment he raised his head, a strike of lightening outlined his bloodstained full lips and preternaturally glowing indigo orbs. He was a predator in its most lethal form, how could she have not seen the signs?

"But, most of all, I am your monster." He laid a final kiss on her mended flesh.