Page 30 of The Naughty Week

“This place is sick.”

“This is the place you chose to call your home.”

“But I didn’t know then…”

He steps closer. “Be honest, Polly. If you had have known, would you have turned away?”

Fuck, he’s got her. Her face tells the truth, because even now, she can’t resist him. I know that feeling in the flesh these days, not just on the screen. Heath may not be a vampire, but he’s got the same thrall. The same mesmeric beauty.

“Come,” the Count says. “Come to me and be the wilting flower. Enjoy being the petals in my arms.”

“For you to scatter me in the dirt when you’re done?”

His fangs are long now – stunning and pointed. I get a bout of goosebumps, imagining them biting down on my tit.

Polly sobs, and fucking hell, I can’t believe it. She’s been in the past two series. I like her. Surely she’s not going to die in episode one? I almost turn to Heath, but I don’t want spoilers. I CAN’T have spoilers.

She drops the branch when he closes the distance, wilting against his suited body as he takes hold of her arms. His teeth graze her neck as he smells her fear.

“I’m not going to scatter you in the dirt. Not tonight. You’re going to go home.”

She stiffens. “What?”

He laughs as he nips his teeth, just a touch.

“You’re free to go, Polly. You’re not going to be a ghost in the woods. Not this time.”

Her expression is incredible. She’s so confused, it’s palpable. Katie Ryan really is an amazing actress.

“But I thought…”

“Thought, thought, thought. So many assumptions. Always so many assumptions in thisgodforsakenplace.”

“But when you chased me…”

I adore the Count’s laugh.

“Even vampires like to have a little fun sometimes.”

This is new. The Count is normally so brutal. I mean, I knew Polly was going to be different, because his stone cold heart had warmed to her, but this is new turf. I glance at Heath, and he’s smirking at the screen, not at me.

“No spoilers,” he says.

I watch the Count walk away from Polly, leaving her like a terrified doll in the darkness. He strolls and she watches, transfixed.

“Are you coming, or not?” he asks, casting a glance over his shoulder. “If you want to trek back to the village alone, that’s fine by me.”

“I, uh…”

He holds out a hand, his fangs still long and glinting under the moonlight.

“Come with me, or muddle your way along the path with the ghosts. Your call.”

She picks up the courage to walk towards him, and her character returns as she calms, walking along at his side.

“I thoughtyouwere in charge of my destiny, not me.”

“I still am.”