Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Hey guys, I'm back, but not for definite as I still have a lot going on. But I have wanted to write this story for a long time and I hope that you would like it. I promise to try and be more reliable with the updates but please forgive me if I fail. :(

Enjoy~

1

The back-streets of London were quiet as a young woman made her way home. Her heeled shoes clattered on the wet cobblestones obnoxiously, and she pulled her scarlet coat around her self-consciously. She hated to be out at night, and she had only been coaxed out of her home at this hour because of the young man she had met two nights ago outside the theatre. He had seemed so nice and not to mention handsome, that she had agreed to meet him tonight outside the theatre again. Only he didn't show. And now she was cold, wet and her feet ached from her pinching black heels and the amount of times she had twisted her ankle on the damn stones.

The tinny sound of a falling bin made her jump and she snapped her head to the right, where the noise had come from. She had expected to hear a cat's yowl or something to offer an explanation for the disturbance, but eerily, there was nothing. The young woman felt a shiver down her back and quickened her pace, despite the protest from her shoes. She turned a corner, but slipped on the cobblestones and let out a gasp of surprise, holding her hands out in front of her to brace herself for the fall. To her surprise, she felt something quite different from hard, wet pavement on her palms. She opened her eyes again, aware she hadn't even fallen, but stumbled into the arms of a young, handsome male. She blinked in shock, captivated by the bright cerulean orbs that stared back, taking in the man's wavy, blonde hair and defined jaw-line.

"E-Excuse me…" she apologised, righting herself again and somewhat reluctantly removing her hands from the man's chest.

"Don't worry about it~" the man replied, and she noted that he was French from the rich accent that laced his words. He smiled, and the woman's first thought was: He's so much better than the man I was supposed to meet.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" he asked, his expression one of neighbourly concern. She nodded, unable to tear her eyes from the man's face. "If I may ask, were are you going in such a hurry?"

"I…I was going home…I just felt a little unsettled walking on my own…" she replied, feeling foolish for being scared of the dark and blushing.

The man let out a low laugh, not mocking, but rather in agreement. "It's not safe for a beautiful woman such as yourself to be walking alone at night, wouldn't you agree?" The woman flushed red from the compliment, and let out a nervous laugh in response.

The man offered his hand out to her. "Allow me to walk you back~"

The young woman was sorely tempted to accept his offer and his hand, and be led home by the most charming man she could ever hope to meet, but her intuition held her back a little. "I don't live far, so you really don't need to. Besides," she added in a more flirtatious tone, "I don't even know your name, sir."

The man smiled again, amused by her reasoning, before giving an elegant bow that was way too dramatic for the occasion and made her laugh. "Forgive my manners. My name is Francis~" he introduced himself with a flourish, and she smiled.

"I'm Emily~" she returned the introduction, and blushed again when Francis gently brushed his lips against her knuckles.

"Enchanté, Mademoiselle Emily~" he purred, and Emily's heart seemed to leap from her chest and into the palm of his hand at his words.

"Y-Yes, nice to meet you too, Francis." She felt heated from the contact he gave her, but when he offered his hand again, she accepted it gracefully. He began to lead her down the alley, where she was sure they would come out onto a busier street. She didn't even notice they had wound their way into narrower, deserted alleys and further away from the main streets.

Emily's exposed ankle brushed something furry that scurried away as it was touched, and she let out a scream, making Francis turn.

"What's wrong, ma chérie?" the man asked, a little startled as she suddenly clung to his arm.

"I hate rats…" she mumbled, her grip on Francis loosening again. "Sorry…" she looked up at Francis' face, to find him almost in a trance, staring at her unblinking. It was eerily beautiful, but it still made her uncomfortable. "W-What is it?" she asked uncertainly, pulling back slightly from Francis, but relaxed again when he blinked and smiled.

"Désolé, ma chérie, I was just…mesmerised by your beauty~" Emily blushed again, holding her breath a little as he moved closer to her, backing her against a wall. She felt a flutter of excitement in her chest as she stared into his sparkling, blue eyes, making no attempt to move as he slowly leaned in. Francis paused about an inch from her lips, seeming to change his course and left light kisses on her jaw-line, moving down to her neck. Emily closed her eyes, over-the moon that this happened to her, but they snapped open as she felt something sharp pierce her throat. She gasped but moaned as Francis bit deeper, a strange sense of pleasure and pain mixed together overcoming her. Emily was vaguely aware that Francis had snaked one hand around her waist, and another was holding her hair out of the way. She made to lift her hand, but it seemed to require too much energy, and as her vision went hazy, it was like Francis was sucking the life out of her. The last thing she saw as Francis pulled back from her, licking his lips in satisfaction, was the glinting of his fangs in the moonlight and her blood staining his chin.

A/N: please let me know if this is worth continuing - I know you can't really judge it from such a small chapter, but please review to tell me what you think~