For as long as she could remember, Gwendolyna had been warned of the blood of a Belmont.

That which flowed inside of them was special among men.  It had the power to seal evil, the power to open portals within Castlevania, and the power necessary to wield the legendary Vampire Killer.  With this power came a distinct scent, far more potent than the average man’s.  To the supernatural, the family could be identified based off the smell of their blood alone.  When spilled, it was enough to drive a vampire into a frenzy.  Years ago, Dracula believed that it would be the temptation of a Belmont’s blood that would finally crack his fledgling’s naïve resolve against feeding upon man.  Her silly hunger strike would only make it more difficult for her to resist the enchanted blood of the hunter who approached their castle.

Her sire was correct in some ways.  While Gwen’s will was strong, she was truly unable to resist the temptation of a Belmont.  Though, it was not what ran through Richter Belmont’s veins alone that drew her to him, and the thirst she succumbed to was not for what coursed through him.  The blood of a Belmont was powerful indeed, but she had never been warned of the sweat of a Belmont.

Gwen must have been a masochist.  That was the only explanation feasible for what she put herself through.  Subjecting herself to Richter’s alluring scent constantly was pure torture, but oh, what sweet torture.  On an average day, it was pleasant to be in his company.  It was satisfying to her senses to be in a room with him.  She found great comfort in his natural scent more than anything else.  When his emotions were high and his blood was really pumping, his presence alone was near inebriating.  She found him irresistible when he was angry and when he got it in his head that he wanted her.  Yet nothing could compare to how overwhelming it was to her when he put up a fight.

To entertain himself and ensure his skills did not dull, Richter would at times challenge some of the castle’s most frightening monsters in the colosseum.  All creatures thought they could best him, so they were willing to jump at the opportunity, despite the fact that none that came before them had been successful.  As his favorite pet, Gwen was encouraged to be in attendance.  She knew not if it was his subconscious way of vying for her affection, or if his ego craved some sort of audience, but she really did not care about reasoning.  All that she knew was that it drove her insane.

Feeling especially cocky this afternoon, Richter was in the pit with not one, but two of his wicked servants.  This proved to be quite the workout.  While he appeared to be having the time of his life, Gwen was absolutely suffering.  Her grip on the railing was so strong the stone was on the verge of cracking beneath her claws.  Moments like these, she cursed her keen sense of smell.  Despite the distance between them, his scent was prominent.  It made her head spin.  Her thoughts and body felt so fuzzy.  Want boiled inside of her.  Somehow, she felt both faint and like she was bursting with vigor.

The moment the dust settled and it was clear he was the victor, Richter found his way out of the pit and met his most faithful servant where she stood.  Having him so close only amplified her desire.  Such activity had drenched him, which had her feeling wet herself.  The shirt beneath his coat was nearly translucent.  The damp fabric clung to his muscles in the most provocative way.  Before she could think better of it, she gave him a “congratulatory” embrace.  Planting her face against his chest was euphoric.  He smelled so strongly of adrenaline and leather that she grew lightheaded.  If she could breathe, she’d try to suffocate herself with his fragrance.

“My, my,” Richter said as she clung to him.  “That impressed by my performance?”

“Mhm.  I was, indeed…”

A soft chuckle accompanied a hand stroking her hair.  His other arm held her waist.  It wasn’t enough to be held by him.  She wanted more.

“My lord,” she murmured.  It was nearly difficult to speak with how much her mouth was watering.  “Would it be too bold… to request that we retire?”

Richter couldn’t help but laugh at the blunt request.

“Yes, that is quite bold,” he answered.  “Lucky for you, I do have energy to burn.  Allow me to wash up, then I will tend to you, my needy little pet.”

“Please, no…” she whimpered.

“… No?”

Without lifting her head, she shook it.  He pried her off of his chest, holding her at arm’s length by her shoulders to observe her.

“What has gotten into you?”

She could not look Richter in the eyes.  How could she say it was he who dwelt in the place that her thoughts once occupied, and he made no room for anything logical to reside?  Her desperation was mortifying.  It made her feel like she was an animal.  She was absolutely ashamed of herself, yet she couldn’t help it.  She associated the aroma with intimate nights, when the only thing on his body was a sheen of perspiration.  If he did not make love to her soon, she would surely perish.

As she avoided fessing up, Richter studied her face, causing a grin to cross his.  If he didn’t know better, he’d assume she was breathing.  There was a subtle flaring of her nostrils that one would not register as odd if they were not familiar with her kind.  With as clingy as she was and how she so ardently did not want him clean, he had a pretty good guess about the cause of her behavior.  He was aching to confirm his theory.

“Come,” he said, letting go of her shoulders.  “I’ll allow you to assist me.”

Richter turned to be on his way without allowing her a moment to protest.  Unwilling to be apart from him, she followed close behind.

As they walked, Richter shrugged off his coat.  Gwen’s gasp got caught in her throat.  She knew she shouldn’t be surprised.  It was only natural that he’d need to cool down after working up such a sweat, but what came next really threw her for a loop.

“Carry this for me, would you?” he asked, passing it to her.  The moment it was in her hands, he continued onward.  Rolling up his sleeves, he added, “It’s a bit warm in this castle today, don’t you think?”

“Ah… Y-Yes, it is…”

Warm?  Gwen swore she was in hell, and Richter was the devil himself, fanning the inferno that consumed her.  He had to know what he was doing to her, she thought.  There was no way he didn’t.  As she trailed behind him, he teased her further.  He gathered his luxurious locks to get the hair off his neck.  Without something to tie it together, he held his hair atop his head as he walked.

She clutched his coat tight and swallowed hard at the sight of the beads of moisture rolling down his neck and the way that damp shirt stuck to his shoulder blades.  This proved to be a mistake, as she soon found her nose buried in the fabric that she held so close.  It had her stopping in her tracks, and her eyes squeezing shut as she inhaled deeper than she had in centuries. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Richter smirked to himself.  She was too distracted to catch him return to her side, but when he threw an arm over her shoulder, she froze.

“I-I…”

“No need to explain yourself,” he said.  He pulled her in and encompassed her in his arms, knowing full well that he was driving her wild.  “I can’t expect you to resist a Belmont.”