"Fancy seeing youngsters like you here, in this old," The pale man with his skin stretched taut over bones said, before grinning and pointing at me (why is it always me!?) to approach him. "rotting place." He finished, smacking his lips and checking me out like I would a KFC weekend delight with extra hot wings on the side.

When Jack had suggested the trip from Dexter to Ann Arbor, and Joyce had seconded it, there was nothing for me to do except comply. After all, we were a team, and every hunter had to start somewhere, right? So when the locals had started whispering about a 'real' vampire spotting in a town near ours, how could Jack, our leader, not suggest a hunting expedition?

Alas, my hopes- my true motivation for becoming a hunter- were dashed, for the walking cadaver in front of me looked nothing like the hunky version of Adonis that I had always envisioned, like the ones pop culture had popularized.

My palms were sweaty, and I could tell that my toes weren't doing much better. As I neared the man, a sweet, honey-like fragrance wrapped around me; it seemed to be coming from Dracula's direction.

No, I am sure that was not his name. Why? Because this was not Pennsylvania. This was Michigan, and the abandoned mansion, which once belonged to a wealthy conglomerate, was not centuries-old; if I had to guess, I would say it looked to be about sixty, give or take a decade. Even so, as a die-hard fan of the classic movie: Bram Stoker's Dracula, I had started referring to him as Dracula in my mind.

Was it my imagination, or did the man look better up close?

"Minmin, come back. This is no time to act like a hero!" I heard Jack's voice, as if from miles away, but I couldn't be bothered in the least. For the Adonis-like man was smirking now, and all I wanted was to bathe in its glow.

"Minmin, are you crazy!?" That was Joyce, but why was she whispering? I wondered. She was the loudest and boldest of the three of us: amateur vampire hunters.

Wait. We were vampire hunters. Well, amateurs, but vampire hunters nonetheless. And we were here to slay a vampire.

The vampire- who had an unnaturally old face, which was as white as the thinning hair on his head, glared at something...someone behind me.

I tried to back away, but I was a little slow for my age, and he was a tad fast for his. Thus, when he pulled me in by my not-so-slim waist, I just kinda fell on him.

However, his slender, wrinkly fingers were sure and possessive as they wrapped around my forearm, steadying me. "Young lady," he tilted my chin up, and honey brown eyes bore into my soul. The young man, with inky black hair parted to its left with not a single strand out of place, continued, "I think you should ask your companions to stay for dinner. After all, I haven't dined on," he shook his head slowly, "My apologies." He chuckled softly, "A slip of the tongue." Correcting himself, he added, "I haven't dined with such a lively bunch in ages."

"Guys, I think we should stay for dinner." I heard myself speak. But even as the words left my lips, something felt odd. I couldn't, however, for the life of me, put my finger on it.

"Minmin, what the hell are you saying!? Kick him in the balls-"

"Shuuuu," The gorgeous man, who looked like he had walked out of a sixties fashion magazine, put his long bronzed finger on his luscious scarlet lips.

There were no more words from Joyce, neither were there any from the other one, whose name I couldn't recall now. Strange, I thought, but all thoughts left me a moment later when the fashion model, looking exactly like the one in my dreams, guided my arm to loop around his. It felt like I was a princess floating, drifting towards the royal ball with the perfect man by my side. My husband.

You are eighteen! Dammit. What do you know about hunting!? A familiar voice- like a fragment of broken memory of a past that I was not sure belonged to me- spoke from somewhere inside me; I ignored it. All that mattered now was the four-poster bed with lacy red sheets draped over the luxurious-looking mattress that my husband was walking me towards.

"Darling, your beauty is out of this world," my husband spoke sweet nothings in my ears. Picking me up like the new bride I was, he lay me down on the vermillion rose petals scattered over our bed.

Honey mingled with rose. It's the happiest I had ever felt. What or who I was before I met him didn't matter. Why, I can barely remember it.

The bed creaked. The unpleasant sound poked at my senses cruelly. But before I could make a move, my husband's cold hands were on my waist, "Just the right amount of flesh for my minions to feast upon." he caressed the soft sensitive skin just over my navel. It excited me, even with a layer of fabric keeping his touch from me.

"Are you having a feast?" I asked, and he nodded, "You are going to be the main course." He replied sincerely, tilting my head to a side, "But first, you need to satisfy me." He leaned in, "Will you do that, my lady?"

Heat rushed to my face. A hunger to belong to the one whose cold breath was fanning the side of my neck coiled inside me like a serpent ready to strike. I nodded, wetting my parched lips, and gulped thickly. "I am yours, husband; I am yours forever," I promised, intending to keep it in life and in death. A death, I knew, was coming, but I did not care