Ever since childhood I'd been obsessed by all things supernatural. It didn't matter what it was: Vampires, werewolves, faeries, trolls. I loved them all. My mom always blamed my unnatural obsession for all things mystical on my father. Dad let me read scary children's books since the early age of six. I always slept with a nightlight on because of this. Looking back, I roll my eyes at that night-light. Like it could prepare me for the next years of my life. It's kind of funny though. Even though I loved reading scary books, they still frightened me. So whenever I had a nightmare, my dad would come charging into my room and chant in Latin.

Afterwards, he'd tell me, "Isabella, now you may go to sleep in peace." And I believed him. Sometimes I really miss that innocence I had as a child. Every time he spoke in Latin to the 'monsters' in my room, I'd get a chill down my spine. I actually thought that my dad was a magician when I was a child; I thought he was the most wonderful person in the whole world. But now I know him for who he really is: Van Hellsing, vampire hunter. I suppose he might have eventually told me...yet, somehow, I doubt it.

Unfortunately, the way I found out was hardly pleasant. I'd just gotten home from school and my parents weren't home. Naturally, I assumed that they were visiting a neighbor or talking to each other in the shed out back behind the house. I sighed and sat on my bed, waiting for them to walk back in when I heard a strange noise from my window. Curiously, I went over to the glass and looked outside. There was nothing but the slightest breeze. Then came a low whistling sound from behind me. I turned around quickly, in a fright, to see a large silhouette in the form of a man in front of me.

For some reason, my heart dropped to my toes and I gasped for breath. It was like someone had taken the air from my room. A voice came from the figure, neither sinister or dangerous, just...lilting.

"It has been a while, Isa."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "Um, I'm pretty sure that I don't know you, though you seem to know my name. None of friends sneak into my bedroom past light."

The voice chuckled. "My dear, I am certainly not your friend. Rather, I am your master."

"Your voice doesn't sound familiar to me. And I know all of my schoolmasters so I'm afraid that I do not understand..."

The voice hissed violently and suddenly, I could see him. Whoever he was, he was the handsomest man I'd ever seen. By the way he was dressed, I knew instantly that he was some count. But why would a count be in my bedroom? His beautiful face was in a scowl.

"I see Hellsing has told you nothing about me. How pathetic. I should have expected better manners from my best mortal enemy."

At this point, I was at a loss for words. This man seemed to be insane. That idea frightened me even more than having a stranger in my room. Before I could scream bloody murder, I caught the name he said.

"Wait...Hellsing? Who is that?"

"Van Hellsing is your father's name, my dear girl. Tsk, so he must have changed your last name to protect you. What a foolish waste of time. Tell me, what is your father's 'real' name?"

"Allen Cross. Why did you say he was your mortal enemy? My dad has never hurt anyone in his life."

My stomach was in horrible knots and sweat began to grow on my hands. Who the hell was this guy and what did he want from me? I was just an eighteen year old girl, not yet graduated from high school. He didn't seem to be the cop type and I didn't trust him one bit.

The man sighed exasperatedly and stepped forward to me. My throat locked up and my eyes narrowed. What was he going to do?

He had this eerie smile on his face as he ran his fingers on my neck. I tried not to close my eyes, but he kneaded the skin with such care that I dropped my defenses in an instant. I sensed him move behind me, fingers still running on my skin. He whispered in my ear, softly and lightly.

"I will help you remember how we met since your beloved father blocked those memories."

I then felt a sharp pain in the back of my neck, like scissors. After a few seconds, the pain left and images flashed before my eyes in a rush, yet I could still see and understand them.

I saw myself as a child, perhaps around age twelve, hugging my dad goodnight. My window was open and the wind was blowing fiercely. I sat up in a start and saw a figure standing in front of my bed. It was the same man who was with me now. But...there was some kind of red mark on the side of his neck. He was bleeding.

My eyes widened but I didn't seem to be afraid. He sat on my bed and said something to me that I couldn't really make out. Whatever it was, I nodded and moved my lips to his neck. I was drinking hisblood.

Once I'd been sucking the blood from his neck for a few seconds, he pulled me back. His hands reached for my nightgown and his fangs came out; he smiled at me and lowered his canines to my own neck.

Then my father came into my room in a rage. He held a sword in his hand and I screamed at him. Dad ignored me and sliced the side of the man's stomach, not enough to kill him, but good enough to make him back away. The man clung to his side and flew out of my window.

Blood had gotten on my gown and I whimpered as my dad came to me. Then he hit me on the back of my head, rendering me unconscious. That's when I forgot. Now, back with the man, I stared at him in amazement.

"...Dracula."

"You are blood-bound to me, now you remember. Isabella, come away with me from this place. You are my mate; your father cannot hold you here anymore."

"I follow you anywhere, my Lord."

With a smirk, Dracula kissed my parted lips. The simple connection between my mind and my will had been broken. I was under Dracula's complete control as of that moment. Then he scooped me into his arms and took me to his, well, our home.

What a fairy tale romance, right?

Not.

Let me tell you something, Dracula and I only have a bond and that's it. He never loved me, never even said anything to me of the sort either. That might sound like a crazed romantic's talk, but it's the plain truth. A woman likes to hear those kinds of things. The only things I've heard him say to me are, "I want you" or "You are so desirable." That little tidbit of information tells you what kind life I've had living with the lord of all vampires.

Sixty-nine years of pure, unadulterated dull. Oh, don't get me wrong, Drac is good when it comes to sex and stuff, but beside that...he misses the mark oh, so often. He stinks at having good conversation, in fact, I haven't had a conversation with him that over one-hundred words. Not only that, but he cheats on me like, all the time.

Okay, yes. I know that there's never a lack of hot and good-looking women in the world, but does he really have to have sex with all of them? I mean, damn. It may 2011, but that is no excuse. I bet he doesn't even know that I know about his wandering eye, incompetent ass. He drives me nearly insane now but I manage to get past it. I may not like him but if the opportunity comes to sleep with him arrives, I'll take it. That may sound slutty or cold and heartless, but as the old saying goes, "Waste not; want not." Drac is so clueless about my thoughts and if he actually did know about them...I wouldn't care. He's just too damn old to care about my feelings.