I cough wetly, flecks of crimson spraying Erik's calloused hands as he barrels down the path, his face a mask of fury. "Brigitte, my love...taken before her time..." he snarls through gritted teeth. "And now the fates seek to rob me of my second bride as well? My key to unlocking the prophecy?"

His emerald eyes blaze with impotent rage. "Damn the Norns and their cruel jests! I'll not surrender my destiny so easily, mark my words!" Another violent coughing fit wracks my tiny frame, and Erik tightens his grip, pulling me protectively against the slick warmth of his bare chest.

"Cling fast, little one," he growls, quickening his pace. "I'll not allow Hel's bony clutches to claim you this day!"

At last, the looming silhouette of the village church appears through the swirling snow. But as Erik reaches for the heavy oak door, it remains stubbornly shut against his frantic tugging.

"What fresh devilry is this?" he roars, kicking the unyielding wood. "Damn you, Father Brogan! Damn you and your fool acolyte Timothy to the nine frozen hells!"

Another vicious kick, and still the door refuses to yield. Erik's face contorts in a rictus of pure, animalistic fury.

"You addlepated bastards dare bar the way on the very morn my bride's life hangs by a thread?" he bellows, raining blow after blow upon the unforgiving portal. "I'll have your wizened skulls mounted on pikes for this outrage!"

At last, the ancient wood splinters and cracks, the door bursting open to reveal the church's solemn interior. Erik charges inside, his boots echoing loudly off the vaulted ceiling.

There, beside the altar's flickering candles, I glimpse three figures - a tall, regal woman with an ageless, timeless beauty, and two young girls, one with hair like spun sunlight, the other a cascade of rich violet tresses.

My breath catches in my throat as I recognize the pair from that awful day in the village square, when the slavers paraded them and others through the streets in chains, bound for some unspeakable fate at the hands of Lord Eamonn's soldiers.

But why are they here now, in this sacred place of worship? And who is the striking, ethereal woman regarding us with those smoldering crimson eyes?

"You there, woman!" Erik's bellow shatters the hushed stillness. "Identify yourself at once! Can you render aid, or have you naught but a pretty face to offer?"

The woman rises with boneless, predatory grace, those full crimson lips curving in a slow, sinister smile. She moves towards us with the prowling gait of a jungle cat, each step a hypnotic sway of her curvaceous hips beneath the shimmering burgundy silk gown that clings like a second skin.

Her raven tresses seem to shimmer with an otherworldly luster, framing a face of unearthly, classical beauty - high regal cheekbones, a delicate nose, and a strong jawline sculpted by the gods themselves. But it's her eyes that transfix me most, those glowing ruby orbs smoldering with insatiable hunger.

As the woman draws nearer, I can't help drinking in every detail of her lithe, impossibly voluptuous form. Her every curve is a masterwork of preternatural allure, from the gentle swell of her full breasts to the flare of her womanly hips. Her alabaster skin glimmers with an ethereal, almost translucent radiance, and her long, elegant fingers are tipped with wickedly sharp crimson nails that glisten like freshly sharpened talons.

"Well, well..." The woman's voice is a rich, musical purr that seems to echo strangely in my ears. "What have we here but a strapping young warrior bold enough to demand an audience?"

She laughs then, a low, cruel chuckle that raises the fine hairs on the nape of my neck. "Though I fear your bravado shall avail you naught in the face of what's to come, good sir..."

Erik glares at the woman, his jaw clenched. "Are you friend or foe?" he demands.

The woman peers around Erik, eyeing me with a sly smile. "Why didn't you knock, good sir? I would have gladly opened the door." Her voice drips with haughty condescension. "Unless...you are here to do harm?"

"I need the priests," Erik growls. "And vampire blood, as soon as possible for the tattoo ritual."

The woman's full crimson lips curve in a wicked grin, revealing wicked fangs. I cough wetly, spraying flecks of blood that speckle Erik's tunic. My eyes widen as I gape at the vampiric woman.

She bends over me, her face mere inches from mine as she takes an exaggerated sniff. Straightening, she purrs, "My, my, what an interesting specimen you've brought me."

"I don't care about that," he snaps. "Can you help or not?"

"But of course." The vampire smiles indulgently. "Though my craft does require...compensation."

Erik's eyes narrow. "Name your price."

"Three silver coins."

He nods curtly. "Done. I'll pay whatever is needed."

The woman laughs, a rich, musical sound that raises goosebumps on my skin. "Lucky for you, pet, you've come on a day when I can provide the necessary vitae myself. For I am Dumitra...a vampire."

She beckons Erik forward with one crimson-tipped talon. "Place the child on the altar."

Erik obeys, gently laying me atop the rough wooden surface. The vampire circles us with a predatory grace, drinking in every detail.

"I am Erik Ragnarsson," he states gruffly.

Dumitra moves behind him, one clawed hand caressing the shell of his ear as she murmurs, "I know who you are, boy. I smell the stench of Ragnar upon you. We have met before, in the past."

Erik's eyes widen in shock and he whirls, shoving Dumitra away. "You...you are the vampire whore witch who coupled with entire towns? Who didn't stop at mounting even the stallions and mutts?"

Dumitra cackles, throwing back her head in wicked delight. "Well met indeed, pet!" She licks her lips slowly. "I am she."

Erik sighs, turning back to face me. "You are in good hands now, little one."

I stare at Dumitra's face, taking in her unearthly beauty and cruel, fanged smile. Good hands? Yeah, right. After what Erik just revealed about this freaky vampire chick, I'm pretty sure I'd feel safer getting a prostate exam from Pennywise the Clown!

Like, seriously? She fucked an entire town's worth of people AND all the family pets too? What is she, some kinda mythological Mrs. Slocombe with her "puuussay" constantly crying out for the D like a horny Alf? I can just picture her going door-to-door: "Alright lads, who's got a nice juicy banger for Auntie Dumitra's famished fuckbox this evening?"

And let's not forget her penchant for interspecies Beastiality either! I bet this twisted bloodsucker was Lassie's worst nightmare - coming home to find Dumitra balls-deep in her doggy hubby, howling at the moon as she got railed by the entire Kennel Club.

At this rate, I'm honestly more terrified of catching a million different strains of vampire-transmitted dia-REEEEE-as from this oversexed Countess Chodula than I am of her just straight-up draining me of blood! I mean, talk about a one-woman Petri dish experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong. Yeesh!

But hey, at least we know the old bat has a healthy appetite, am I right? If this whole "healing tattoo" thing falls through, I'm sure Erik could just toss me into Dumitra's gaping maw and she'd be happy to nibble on my tender haunches for a while. Waste not, want not and all that!

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Yeah...I'm definitely in the most capable, hygienic hands imaginable here. Dumitra the Depraved Vampire Vixen has got this shit on lockdown! What could possibly go wrong?

Dumitra turns to the violet-haired girl with pointed ears and commands in a silky tone, "Eilis, fetch the vials of ink and a small silver dagger from the chest beneath the altar."

Eilis immediately moves to my left side, her movements graceful yet purposeful. I hear rummaging sounds as she retrieves the requested items from the chest. Moments later, she returns with two vials of dark liquid - ink, I presume - and an empty glass vial, placing them carefully in Dumitra's outstretched hands.

Dumitra examines the empty vial, giving it a slight shake before taking the dagger from Eilis. The young girl looks at me with large, solemn eyes. "Do not be afraid, little one. This is for your own good."

I open my mouth to respond, but a series of ragged coughs wracks my small frame instead. Dumitra turns to Erik, her crimson lips curving in a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Step aside, good sir."

The pink-haired girl - pipes up in a high, childish voice. "Friends?"

Dumitra's gaze flicks to the girl, her expression one of mild annoyance. "Mary, be good, will you? Go play hide and seek with Eilis."

As the two girls scamper off, I study Mary more closely. The small horns protruding from her brow seem larger than I remember. Furrowing my own brow, I look up at Dumitra. "What's up with the girls?"

The vampiress arches one perfect eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean, child?"

Before I can clarify, Erik speaks up from beside me. "The lasses appear to be under Dumitra's tutelage, from the look of things."

I try to ask another question, but more coughs force the words back down my throat. Dumitra takes the opportunity to slice open her finger with the dagger's razor edge, allowing a few crimson drops to well up and trickle into the empty vial. She then uncorks one of the ink vials and pours its inky contents into the vial now containing her blood, swirling the mixture with a deft flick of her wrist.

From somewhere within the folds of her burgundy gown, Dumitra produces a strange implement - some sort of medieval tattoo device by the looks of it. She turns her smoldering gaze on Erik.

"Disrobe the child so that I may have access to her belly."

Erik moves to comply, helping me shrug out of my sapphire dress until I'm left in just my lacy underthings. An odd sense of vulnerability washes over me, though I'm uncertain why. This is hardly the first time I've been unclothed in front of others.

Dumitra's eyes rove over my nearly nude form in a way that makes me shiver. "And what is your name, little one?"

I meet her crimson stare levelly. "Lile."

"Hmmm..." She purses her full lips thoughtfully.

As Dumitra settles over my belly, her lithe form hovering mere inches above me, I feel the cool metal of the tattoo implement graze my skin. She dips it into the vial filled with an inky crimson mixture that glistens ominously.

"Little one," Dumitra purrs, her ruby eyes boring into mine. "Have you ever met a woman with skin as pale as fresh cream? Hair like spun moonlight and eyes the color of blood?"

I know exactly who she speaks of - that pale, terrifying woman with the crimson gaze who claimed to be some kind of alien overseer. But I dare not reveal that truth, so I simply shake my head mutely.

"Hmm..." Dumitra's full lips curve in a wicked smile as she leans closer, her raven tresses caressing my cheek. "Then hold still while I work, pet. We wouldn't want to mar that pretty skin."

As she bends over me, a few errant sunbeams filter through the church windows to bathe Dumitra's head in brilliant golden light. I tense, expecting her flesh to sizzle and smoke like the vampires from storybook tales. But to my bewilderment, nothing happens - the sunlight seems to have no effect on her at all.

"Why doesn't the sun burn you?" I blurt out, unable to contain my childish curiosity.

Dumitra chuckles, the sound raising goosebumps along my arms. "Silly girl, sunlight cannot harm me. Nor can your pious crosses or even this sacred ground." She smirks at me. "Those are merely superstitions to scare mortals into obedience."

"Enough prattling, Dumitra," Erik growls from beside me. "The lass could perish this very day. I need you to focus and complete the ritual markings."

"Hmm..." Dumitra leans back, raking her crimson gaze over my nearly nude form with an appraising look. "I begin to see what ensnares you about this one, Norseman."

Then, with a wicked laugh, she presses the inked implement to the soft skin of my belly. I gasp at the strange, prickling sensation as Dumitra begins tapping intricate patterns into my flesh, her movements almost hypnotically rhythmic. The sharp, coppery tang of her vitae mingles with the musky scent of the ink, assaulting my senses in dizzying waves...

Dumitra's raven tresses caress my cheek as she bends closer, her full crimson lips curving in a wicked smile.

"Indeed, a very singular beauty blooms amidst the muck and mire here," she purrs, her ruby eyes raking over my nearly nude form. "The girl echoes the ancient goddess Freyja herself. Or mayhap even wily Gullveig reborn into mortal flesh?"

Erik shifts beside the altar, his emerald eyes narrowing. "Nay, she is no goddess given flesh, Dumitra. Merely an ill-fated peasant child in need of our aid."

Dumitra throws back her head with a rich, musical laugh that raises goosebumps along my arms. "Come now, warrior - even cloaked by this tender youngling's flesh, you cannot disguise treacherous ambition's restless hunger haunting your gaze."

She leans closer, her breath warm against my cheek as she murmurs, "Did you truly think me blind to your designs on this singular prize?"

Dumitra's crimson nails trail lightly down my belly, leaving a trail of fiery tingles in their wake. "Why, you have crafted yourself quite the cunning scheme here."

Erik's jaw tightens, but he holds the vampire's smoldering gaze steadily. "Whatever do you imply? I seek only to rescue this frail waif from her death."

"Of course, naturally you nurture purely selfless motives," Dumitra croons, her tone dripping with mocking condescension as she resumes tapping the intricate patterns into my flesh. "How silly of me to suspect otherwise of one bearing the storied Ragnar's noble blood!"

Her full lips curve in a slow, sinister smile. "Still, I must applaud the elegant trap you have laid claiming this prize peasant child. Once properly groomed, the girl could near pass for goddess-touched with her uncanny beauty."

I shiver at the predatory hunger in Dumitra's crimson stare, though I'm uncertain if it's directed at me or Erik. The vampire laughs again, a low, cruel chuckle that seems to echo strangely in my ears.

"Now I grasp your true aims here at long last," she murmurs. "This prize shall secure your place in Norway and more besides."

Dumitra's eyes glitter with wicked delight as she continues. "Bewitch the credulous peasants there with her preternatural beauty...dazzle your backward kinsmen with tales of ancient völva reborn to herald your rule...breed lusty sons upon her fertile young loins to found a glowing dynasty."

She throws Erik a conspiratorial wink. "Thus you shackle destiny itself to your triumphant return from exile. And naive little Lile serves as the perfect lynchpin binding all to your cunning will!"

Dumitra tosses back her head with another peal of laughter. "Why, I salute your ruthless ingenuity, warrior! Ragnar himself could not have crafted more devious snares to trap honor and glory."

She leans back, raking her crimson gaze over me once more as she purrs, "I remain humbled by your inspired cunning!"

Erik turns to Dumitra, his jaw set in a hard line. "Tell me, vampiress - do you even care what I want? Or do you simply delight in mocking me at every turn?"

Dumitra chuckles darkly as she continues working on my tattoo, the inked implement tapping an ominous rhythm against my skin. "We stand alike in ruthlessness, you and I." She smirks up at him. "Though you lack the courage to admit it."

A muscle twitches in Erik's cheek. "So you remain bitter that Ragnar refused to plant his seed in your womb? Is that what fuels this spite?"

Dumitra's full crimson lips curve in a slow, predatory smile. She turns her face towards Erik with agonizing slowness, those smoldering ruby eyes glittering with wicked delight. "Oh no, warrior...I have the next best thing right here in this very village."

A harsh bark of laughter escapes her as she leans back, raking her hungry gaze over Erik's powerful form. "In fact, I think I shall take you as my stud tonight and be done with it. Rape you and breed myself with the children of Ragnar's bloodline, since the great man himself proved too craven."

My eyes widen at her blunt words. Dumitra arches one perfect eyebrow at Erik.

"You may resist, if you wish...or agree to it consensually. I care not which you choose."

Erik chuckles nervously, the sound brittle. "You cannot be serious, woman. It is impossible for a female to rape a male against his will."

Dumitra throws back her head, peals of rich laughter echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "Hmm...I would not be so sure of that, boy." She leans in close, her breath hot against Erik's ear. "If Ragnar did not have the entire town of Kattegat behind him, I would have taken his seed by force long ago."

I cough wetly, specks of blood dotting my lips. "Why...why do you want babies so badly?" I rasp out.

Dumitra's crimson gaze slides to me, her full lips curving in an indulgent smile. "Why, I simply enjoy taking trophies from great bloodlines, pet. Claiming the seed of legendary warriors and kings as my own."

My eyes widen further at her words, stunned by her casual arrogance.

Are you fucking kidding me right now? So let me get this straight - not only does this crimson-tipped succubus go around porking entire villages like some depraved pied piper, but she's also into shagging the beasts too? Beastiality on top of everything else? Christ on a cracker, this vampiric vixen is straight out of a Marquis de Sade fever dream!

But wait, it gets even more deranged - Dumitra has some kind of breeding fetish where she gets her curved talons into famous bloodlines to pop out little monster babies. Like she wants to be the Ghengis Khan of the supernatural world, spreading her demon seed far and wide by raping legendary warriors and kings.

Poor Erik honestly doesn't stand a fucking chance against this lust-crazed harpy. He can either get rock-hard and dick her down himself, or she's going to straight up violate him and use him as a living dick-sheath to breed her demon spawn. Not exactly an enviable set of options there, my guy.[...]