Author's note: This came from a drabble challenge at Live Journal where people requested a drabble between 100-500 words, gave the title, character/ship, and one line of dialogue. The necessaries:

Title: A Dead Man's Touch

Pairing: Dracula/Verona when she's still human

Dialogue: "Never before have I felt so beautiful."

And all were covered. The person who requested this drabble enjoyed it, so now I'm posting it here. Hope you enjoy and please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dracula or Verona, or anything else in this, including a certain line of dialogue or the title. Also, I don't own Lucifer, he belongs to himself, which is good. The two others mentioned in this fic belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. Please do not sue me. I mean no copyright infringement. Savvy?

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A DEAD MAN'S TOUCH

Cold fingers made their way over flushed, warm skin. Icy tips leaving burning trails wherever they brushed. Frozen hands cupped heaving breasts while chilled lips kissed across a speeding pulse.

She was alive, so alive. He loved it about her and he hated it about her. He desired it, craved it, needed it. Yet something always held him back. A tiny voice in the back of his mind, telling him that once he took a taste, she would never taste as good again.

But he wanted her with him. She made him feel, alive. She made him feel flames lick at his skin softly, the slightest shadow of warmth. But it was more than he had felt since his death. And he yearned for her touch, her presence.

"Why do you always hesitate?" she asked softly, her voice low and husky, elegant and strong. "Why not take a bite, my love. So we can be together. Once and for all," she whispered, her own voice filled with the same yearning his body felt.

"Because, my beautiful, I fear you will grow as cold as I have," he replied, his deep voice thick as if suddenly Lucifer had given back all of his emotions. "And that, I do not think I could bear."

Verona turned in his embrace, her bare body almost as pale as his own. Their skin glowed in the dim light of the crescent moon, and her lips were bruised from severe passion. He could see marks, bruises, bites, all over her skin, but he was certain that she had left temporary markings over his as well.

A delicate hand, long and slender with graceful fingers made its way up his chest to his neck, tangling in his hair. "Never before have I felt so beautiful. Never. Until you," she confided. "You make me feel beautiful and desired."

Leaning down, Vlad kissed his bride-to-be on the temple before whispering in her ear. "You are." As he felt her sigh, knowing she was closing her eyes and baring her enticing, swanlike neck to him, he leaned down, eyes flashing an unearthly, unholy, blue before closing as sharp fangs pricked porcelain skin.

She shuddered, but he held her protectively, soothingly, his mind reaching out to hers and calming any fears or doubts the brief pain might have brought about. She relaxed in his arms, clinging to him with weakening limbs.

You will always be beautiful and desired, my bride. Always. My gift to you.