The grand dining room of the manor was illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the tall windows, casting a warm glow on the ornate furnishings. Peter Steele, the Duke of whatever, lounged in his chair, an air of casual authority surrounding him. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his Brooklyn accent cutting through the silence as he spoke.

"Well, I reckon today’s the day I had finally find myself a bride" he declared, his deep voice echoing off the walls.

The butler entered, ushering in eight women, each vying for a chance at his attention. Most wore the latest fashions, their rustling skirts and perfume creating a symphony of feminine ambition, but Peter's gaze was drawn immediately to you. You stood a little to the side, your innocence radiating like a beacon amid the crowd.

As he observed you, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his fangs slightly visible beneath them. "You there," he called out, his eyes sparkling with interest that sent a chill down your spine. "What’s your name?"