Eternal Night

(I) Chapter 18: There's Trouble Brewing

The entire walk home, Frankie struggled to maintain her composure.

Her every step was precise, fierce; fists periodically clenching and unclenching slowly as she wrestled with the swarm of conflicting emotions that felt forever on the verge of overpowering her sense of reason. It took a tremendous degree of self-mastery to keep moving forward in the direction of her flat instead of turning around to head back to Carmen's so she could smack Leinhart as hard as she could across the face before proceeding to kiss him.

It was entirely irrational, but just the thought of her lips against his had her quickly lost in fantasy, the daydreams of violent and passionate sex distracting her just long enough until she discovered she was already home. She entered her flat and sealed herself inside, removing her jacket in an agitated manner as she made her way through the front room, struggling to banish her conflicted feelings of frustration and bourgeoning lust. The woman raked her fingers shakily through her hair, taking deep, controlled breaths as she felt a familiar ache awakening inside of her.

God, it had been so long – so long since she had felt this way. The addicting, destructive, and delicate balance between fury and a borderline desperate need to be filled, to be touched, to submit and lose control.

No, she thought, attempting to nip her yearning in the bud before it could take proper root in her. I will not lose control. I will not lose control.

She would not grant Vlad Leinhart any further victory in this war for dominance. Her self-inflicted humiliation at his manipulative hand had been enough for one evening, and considering how masterfully he had performed, how it had caught her completely off guard, she'd have to better prepare herself for the encounters to come. Clearly the man had developed some sort of strategy – he was using her attraction to him against her.

But a question kept nagging at her – how in the name of God did he even know? She had been so careful not to drop any hints or indications of interest. Had this just been a lucky shot in the dark? What was she to do? Frankie needed to think, needed to focus, to plan, to make preparations. She wasn't going to survive another meeting like that without losing herself. She did not need another man's blood on her hands – especially not another close friend of her brother's.

As the quiet of the apartment enveloped her, Frankie began to feel the tension gradually ebbing away as she returned to a more neutral state of calm. Concluding that she would only be able to approach this Leinhart matter with a clear head, she decided to turn in early for the evening and she made her way to her bedroom with a glass of blood in hand.

Well, at least there was one bit of good news in her life. It was finally getting easier to feed again, and the nourishment proved beneficial to her state of mind – it was less difficult to achieve that sense of normality with herself than it had been previously and by the time she had finished her liquid meal, she felt more like herself again – calm, rational, and in control.

Though a vampire and not necessarily in need of actual sleep, Frankie had found in her long years of life that regular rest helped in rejuvenating her body and mind, and so, after thoroughly banishing Mr. Leinhart from her thoughts, she crawled into bed, immediately opening herself to the welcomed state of unconsciousness – an empty plain of serenity and a gray mist.

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The stone corridor was always freezing, even during the summer months when the heat seemed almost unbearable. There were whispers that the reason for the perpetual cold was owed to the man who resided within this particular set of chambers. With every footstep down the dimly lit corridor came a tangible foreboding, a sense of unquenchable dread, and even for one of the undead, the supposed damned of the world, it was unsettling.