#ashlin baxter

But those were all excuses to a truth that she did not want to admit to herself. A truth that, if she was staying with this honesty thing, was as far from the reality she wished to live.

  Her chest rose and fell, a heave to the motion that she could not stop as the shutters ran up the length of her spine. Those fingers moving again to loosen the blindfold, her eyes locked onto multicolored eyes that she never wanted to see again. A face of an angel, perfection personified, with the heart of a devil underneath stared back at her. Those eyes deceiving as always, something soft swam behind them. Something warm and inviting, something she wanted to fall into, and could feel herself lean into that hand. Those fingers that moved under her chin only to make her peer up directly at him.

  A low whine pitched somewhere in her chest, as those eyes took her in. A plague of emotions behind those lids, confusion, worry, and something else. Her heart was hammering as he pulled her up, her blood screaming at her when those fingers once again caught her chin, his thumb finger running right underneath the split in her lip. Those eyes lingering before drawing back up to her own eyes. There was actual concern behind them. A feat that she did not need to fall into but easily did.

  Everything hurt, everything was sore and singing in pain. But she wouldn’t tell him, would not allow her dignity to drop so low as to admit to the leech what he more than likely wanted to hear.

  She had not noticed her own eyes until this moment, of which she hadn’t realized were brimming with tears. The burn that settled behind her eyes seemed obnoxious now. She was terrified, her body shaking in his fingers even though he touched her so softly, his words nothing less than heaven on her ears. But still, her heart was in her throat, her teeth clattered as she swallowed, trying to push some of the pride she had, the little bit of dignity she still owned back up to the fore front of her being.

 “Lucky?... That’s what you call this? Being bound and gagged daily? Being beaten, watching the person I want to protect be beaten? Sitting and waiting and wondering when or how our deaths are going to take place?”

  But god, he smelt, good. His hands felt heaven sent against her flesh and his eyes had her almost melting on sight. There was something lying underneath it all, something screaming at her to fight him, something screaming at her to revolt, retaliate in any way just to get away from the man. He had done terrible things, left her to die and only decided in the last seconds of her life to spare her. No this was a man that would take her life without a second glance, a man that would tear into with a smile gracing those perfect lips.

  Then there was the part of her that was yielding, yielding to nothing but the desire of his touch. Yielding to the comfort that was brought along by his being.

  “In all respect, fuck you, your majesty.”

 -----

  The first thing she heard was footsteps. It was her first clue, besides the voice that had shot out, had answered the men who had brought her here with a hardened voice that resonated with the shiver of a leader. Instinctively, Ashlin’s head snapped up, eyes that could not see turning toward the sound of approaching footfalls, each thump matching another of her heard, every rhythmic sound sending her nerves into a frenzy. The sound of them stopped before her, Ashlin not9ing that though whoever it was did not touch her, kept a careful distance of a few inches between them, she could feel them, sense them like she could sense the coming of a storm, all cool wind and soft breezes along her body. Their body was warm, close enough that she could heard his breath, the slow intake of air as he looked down at her, her lips pulling into a thin line as she lifted her head slightly, a slight effort to look more dignified than she felt. Her throat burned, her body ached and her head pounded with this unknown poison racing through her veins, but she refused to let it show, refused to allow it to show on her Face

 That is, until he touched her.

 The next thing she could feel was fire, bright hot need, burning and vivid along her skin as she felt his fingertips run, lightly, along her skin. It was a soft touch, hardly anything notable but it stung like she had been slapped, the brush of his skin lighting up her skin like fireworks. She stiffened, feeling as he ran his fingers through her her hair, to find the tie that held the cloth over her eyes. She marveled, silently, at how he made quick work of the knot on the back of her head, the cloth falling away to reveal closed lids, ones that she moved, opened slowly as she swallowed thickly enough for everyone in the room to hear. Her gaze remained steady on the floor, violet eyes locked on the chaos of the man before her, taking in every stitch, every slight shuffle as he stood before her, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he forced what he wanted out of her, before she would have to look up at him.

 Her gaze traveled, moving up his legs, his hips. His waist, taking not that though clothing blocked her view of his naked for, it did little to hid the strength that slide under his skin. She could see it in his broad shoulders, wide chest, his arms and legs thick with muscles that could easily annihilate her with a single twitch. He seemed easy in his kin, something that warned her that he was used to having power, and he must have been used to using it, considering he held no hesitation to his movement, simply went in for what he wanted, paying no mind to consequences he might have or may he simply didn’t see her as a threat

 Ashlin believed it to the later more than anything.

 Ashlin was not…. Strong, not in the common sense of the word.  She was small, weighing only about 100 pounds soaking wet and standing at 5’3, that was incredibly small. Her body sported little to no muscles, and he didn’t strike a very intimidating picture when you first met her. She had always been… willowy, waifish in terms of body, but it had never held a problem before, for her aim was more than enough to make up for any physical limitation she may have had. People say her as an easy target…. But you could not kill what you could not touch, and Ashlin’s aim always rang true.

 But her aim did her no good here, and the man before her didn’t seem worried that she might retaliate in the slightest.

 Her heart pounded, exasperating the headache that sang through her veins and made her whole-body ache, made her whole figure shake with some unspoken need, something in her calling, harsher now that he was close, louder now that his hands were on her and that she could feel his breath brushing over the tops of her hair. Her knees felt weak, wobbly, as she trailed her eyes higher, past his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Before she found herself staring at his face, dark blue locked with vivid violet as her eyes widened, and that need she had just barely been managing to keep contained exploded past her hold.

 “A-a….”

 There was no uncertain amount of distress in her voice. No uncertain amount of terror on her face as she realized the words would not come, her lips refusing to form the words that should have fell easily from her tongue. His thumb brushed over her lip. Drawing a sharp breath from the girl who usually had such good control over what she did, had a commander hold on her own emotions.  She stared at him, his features, his face, all new but somehow she knew them, knew them almost as well as her own, and she was absolutely drowning in them, hair as brown and thick as the oak of her home town, eyes bluer then the darkest pits of the ocean.

 Ashlin turned her head, yanking her chin away from him as she breathed in, not realizing she had been holding her breath. She meant to get away from him, to take a step back. But her body betrayed her, instead of moving backwards like she wanted, the moment she began to move she tilted, like something had pushed her, straight into his hold, between his lifted arms as her fore head pressed against his chest, her body shaking hearing his hammering heart just under skin and bone. It matched hers, at the very least.

 She wanted to talk, to say something articulate to make it seem like she wasn’t just throwing herself at him. But there was something in her, something strong, powerful that refused to unbind her mind, pulling tighter against her thoughts the more she struggled against it. This need… It was overwhelming, and there was only so much Ashlin could fight after five days of constant attack from this poison in her veins, the one that refused to go away. Everything hurt, her body, her mind, her soul, and just being near him… seemed to make that pain edge.

 “It’s Ashlin…. What have you done to me?”

 Her voice was dry, hoarse from disuse and pain. She felt both like she was drowning and like she was dying of thirst, her senses overwhelmed as her head pounded with his heart and her mind, not nearly as sharp as it was before, not nearly as calculated as it had been before.

 “What’s wrong with me? What did you do?”

   ------

 Later, he would account his unraveling to the little whine, that little hum of despair that fell past her pretty pink

lips as she leaned into his hand, leaned into his touch like it was her only lifeline in a sea of despair that she could not escape. The sound…. Did something to him, tapped into the similar feeling that had been boiling in his chest for… days now, the aching feeling of needed blurred the lines between each day so that he could not accurately give a number as to how many days had passed in the blur of need, but hearing, hearing her desire something in him with just as much desperation as he had for her.

 It was enough to make his blood boil.

 It took everything in him not to take her then, to not take her at that tiny little sound and to keep his hands still. The feeling of her skin was heaven, silk, satin, lace and everything he equated with sensual desire and longing, but here it was, wrapped up in this tiny human slip of a girl, in one of the few humans he knew he would never be able to have as he truly wanted. Most vampires, who found a human they so liked, would take them, keep them as their own personal living blood source and servant until the end of their days. It was a fairly common practice, one his own court, their blood, their families were not immune to. Aiden himself had taken one long ago, and while Carson had never looked down on him for it, he had never really understood why it was Aiden, of all people, had decided to take a little wisp of a human in as his own, or as they were formally called in Court, as his pet.

 Now he could, and he figured he owed an apology of some sort to the red headed bodyguard, but if he was going to be honest, Aiden would never hear it.

 The only difference was, unlike Aiden’s, who had a long term dependency on him and seemed to wilt whenever Aiden would leave, who thrived when he showed her any bits of attention, despite the need that ran as rampant through him as it did her, this one seemed to despise him, hate his very being with everything she had even as her body was calling for him. There was a look in her eye, he mused as mismatched brown caught hold of watery blue eye, sparkling lakes in a thunderstorm that was the emotions she held, that screamed of her disdain, that cursed his name without even knowing it. It didn’t matter that her body was craving him, that she was leaning into him with the impatience’s of a lover, Requiem’s mind was far from broken, and that brought Carson a bright, vivid burst of joy.

 That joy was quickly diminished by the sudden anger that surged in his gut, burned his throat and eyes as her voice, pure, soft, perfection, filled the space between them.

 She chose to selectively hear what it was he was saying, answering only a part of it as she snapped her answer back at him. There was something seriously wrong with him. He knew, because her words on any other occasion would not have brought such a reaction out of him, and as much as he wanted to think logically, his mind burned, hazed over in rage and he could hardly see through the red fog that had built up around him. His hand moved, steadily, purposefully, catching either side of her face to press viciously into her jaw, feeling as her jaw was forced open, her cheeks, skin and fingers between teeth as he lifted, pulled her up, up up, until she was fighting to stand on her tiptoes, his eyes flashing with a warning most others did not see.

 Carson’s lips pulled back into a snarl, his eyes narrowing as he held himself back from simply tearing into her like he wanted to. He watched her struggle for a moment, a second before his words came sliding through snapping teeth and bitter tongues, his hand crushing her jaw just slightly as he pulled her to him. Her breath was on his skin, and her lips brushed over his for a moment as he spoke, and really, it was the only thing keeping him grounded, from flying off the handle

 How strange that she made him so furious yet calmed him at the same time.

“You’re lucky, because I haven't found it in me to kill you yet. No doubt you’ll make some smart aleck reply on how that is your wish, how you want to die, but you know very, VERY little on what I can do. You’re scared, your fear is all over your face when you look at me, but compared to what I can do, what i am able to do… What I exposed you to was nothing. Death by a vampire is gruesome, but Death from a king is a whole other game. We don’t play nice, we don’t have mercy, and if you think I’ll stop at you, you're dead wrong. I had to stop because One motion I made almost killed you, and You are lucky that something in me made me save you.

 “You are alive simply because I wish it, you are here because I wanted you to be.  I suggest, if you like the privilege of seeing your little friend again…” He turned her head toward Ashlin, the little human now in Abram’s grasp, close enough that she couldn’t run, even if she wanted to, jerked it sharply enough to draw a gasp of pain from her, which only enticed yet another snarl from him, “You’ll start appreciating what it is I’ve done for you. Any and all inconveniences in your life are drawn from your nasty little habit of attacking every vampire that comes your way, so, in tandem, Fuck you, Princess.”

 Carson Dropped her face, letting her go so she could stand on her own two feet again. His hand moved, slid into his pocket to pull out a knife, the blade flicking out and gleaming in the low firelight.

 “Stay still.”

 Carson moved, grabbing her arms and pulling her closer, the blade sinking straight into the ropes that bound her hands and cutting them, letting them fall to the floor in an unceremonious heap. His expression never changing as he spun the blade between his fingers, a little flourish before he closed it and pocketed it once more.

 “My name is Carson, and you have been claimed by me. Meaning your life is in my hands, if you die, it will be by me. I would say you don’t have to worry about it, but you also seem to have a habit of running that pretty little mouth of yours and getting under people’s skin. Not a bad trait, I like a girl with a back bone, but I warn you, there’s only so much I will put up with.”

 ------

 Her hair fell across her face in a silky fall of brunette strands. Faintly shocked that he could see the individual colors, Abram could only stare at her hair. For one moment, he couldn't think, couldn't even breathe, drag air into his lungs. It was impossible, yet the hand he raised to the fall of brown hair was smeared red with blood. Blood that he wiped so tenderly off those lips. Red, not a muddy gray. His fingers brushed her hair back over her shoulder with exquisite gentleness, an instinct bred into his bones, exposing the line of her neck to him. She didn't seem to notice, working meticulously on trying to keep herself up right. Her skin was soft and inviting. Like satin. He bent his head forward, slowly, steadily, the fangs lengthening, the demon roaring, his body clenching. Her breath was warm against his skin. His teeth almost touched her pulse, that vulnerable pinpoint beckoning seductively.

  Her blouse gaped open, revealing exquisite breasts, lush and full and soft enough to pillow his head. He wanted to slip his hand inside her shirt and hold warm flesh as he bent to her neck. Her heartbeat more enticing than any he had ever heard.

  Her words were a melody on his ears, dancing through his mind as his fingers gripped the silk strand of hair, pulling back on them with enough force to snap her head back. His nose ran the length of her neck, his body crying out for hers as he pressed himself against the soft curves of her body.

  “Calm, Khaleen. I won’t let anything more happen to you. It’ll all be explained”

  She made a sound, frowning, still absorbed in her steady work, of steadying herself. Abram inhaled, taking the scent of her deep into his body. He didn't have control of her mind, and he was too enthralled to waste what was left of his control on working out the intricate puzzle. There was a nagging in his mind, screaming for him to claim what rightfully belonged to him. Something telling him to tie them together. And apparently when it came to his one he was a weak-willed man. He whipped up his arms, locking her body to his as his teeth sank deep into her neck.

White-hot pain lashed through Ashlin's body, danced like a whip of lightning through her bloodstream, heating her body so that every nerve ending was alive and pulsing with fire. The pain gave way to a dark, erotic, slumberous ecstasy she was helpless to resist. Abram was certain she struggled, but he was like iron, her softer body battering itself against his hard one, and he didn't seem to notice to the outer world. Didn’t seem to notice the screaming girl in the same room, he was internally lost. She felt the strength growing in him, spreading through him, even as her own strength seemed to slide away from her. There was a part of her that seemed to be separate, standing apart, watching and feeling in a kind of horror. There was fire in her blood, moving through her body, muscles clenching, tightening, going boneless, pliant in his ironlike grip.

  Abram glanced up at the camera trained on him, his mouth twisting in a humorless smile, flashing his white teeth. With his eyes staring straight at the lens, he lowered his head and stroked a caress across the pinpricks on her neck with his tongue. That look would tell them everything. He knew each of them, knew their scent; he knew his enemies. Their stench was in his very lungs, and he was a hunter. He had gone from prey to predator with one small infusion of blood. It wasn't enough to close the bond, but it was enough to allow his fate with hers to entwine. They wouldn’t take her from him, they would not be taking the one thing in this word that he already considered precious.

  He lifted the Ashlin's limp body easily bridal style, moving with a graceful show of strength. He had every intention of drawing his enemies to him and away from his family. But first he would destroy everything they had built out in the world. They hid their laboratory away from prying eyes. They hid their hideous torture chamber deep within the forest, thinking they were far from the law, far from justice, but he would show them who owned this part of the world, who had owned it for a long, long time.

  Ashlin erupted into a wild struggle, attempting to squirm away from him.

 But Abram only tightened his hold on her.

"Stop it," he ordered. "You have no way to escape. It is impossible. Lie still." His voice was a soft, menacing command.

  Ashlin lay quietly, feeling the enormous strength in his arms. She fought down her panic, trying desperately to think. Her body had become lead. It was an effort to lift her arm, make a fist, pound on his chest. She was dizzy and sick. His emotions were swamping her, a wild swirling of dark danger beating at her. She had never come close to feeling such overwhelming emotions. They welled up like a volcano, explosive, violent, very intense. She sensed something wild and untamed, a predator without equal. Her neck must have throbbed and burned as she wondered what manner of demon she had unleashed.

 He knew she felt the strength gathering in him. Felt it.

  Carefully, he helped the small slip of a female, retaining possession of the woman by holding her body close to his, until they made their way to a nook in the room. He felt her. Every inch, every curve. Her skin was unbelievably soft. He bent his head to her thick mane of flowing hair, inhaling the scent of her. It took a tremendous amount of self-control not to bury his face in the silken strands.

  She was very frightened, the fear swamping her despite the fact that he had tried to soothe her. Her brain patterns were different, the most difficult he had ever encountered. He caught her chin firmly in his hand and tipped her head back so her strange eyes were forced to meet his gaze. Her eyes were shaped liked a cat's, a deep violet in color. Her lashes were long and inky black color. He stared down into her eyes, a simple hypnotic technique that should have calmed her instantly, but instead he could hear the frantic rhythm of her heart pick up.

  Ashlin tried desperately to regain her energy. Her legs were very heavy, her arms still leaden and he knew this without even having to touch her mind. He was the only thing holding her up. She was dizzy. She blinked rapidly, trying to find a way to regain her ability to think clearly.

  "What's wrong with me?" Her mouth was dry and her voice sounded far away to her own ears.

  “I took your blood Khaleen, and I took a lot.” His knuckles brushed over her cheek bones, his thumb moving to trace over her bottom lip as he watched her every movements.

  Abram answered softly, honestly. "There is no need to fear me, I will replace what was lost." His arms tightened possessively, his body sliding over the length of hers so that he could watch those eyes that drew him in.

  Her eyes widened with horror as he stared at his hands, the wrist pressed against his own mouth until he bit into it, enough to draw the blood she needed in her system. Ashlin drew in on herself, stifling a gasp as he tore a long cut in his own wrist. Blood dripping as she watched in a fascinated horror. His own mouth working over the wound to draw more of the life-giving sustenance from himself.

  He bent his head to hers, her breath warm against his skin. His lips grazed over hers for a moment, before he moved his mouth against hers, nudging her lips open and pressing his tongue inside. She tasted hot, like spice and secrets, like warm summer nights and a midnight rendezvous. He found himself nudging her lips apart and pressing his tongue inside to get more of her, swallowing her grunts as she tried to push against his form.

Truthfully, it didn’t matter what he chose… It never did. No matter what he chose he knew that he would not be able to leave, that he would stay, despite all of his minds clamoring and pleading and despite the itch under his skin to find the nearest exit, Carson would not leave until the fire of every single light wilted and dimmed and cast the ballroom back into darkness. All it would take would be a look from the man who had turned him, one look from him to root the Vampire King in his place.

 Carson didn’t fear his father. Oh, He was a man to be feared, that was for sure. His Father was ruthless, cunning, showed no mercy to his enemies and held soft spots only for those of his own blood and those who had known him long before he had come to be known as the Lord King. He was a hard man to get to known, all sharp edges and jagged wires stopping those who would wish to harm him from coming too close. He could cut you with a single glance, chips of ice hardened from years of betrayals to match the scars his body bared, but there had never, not once, been a moment when he had turned those glassy dead eyes toward his sons. He had been stern, harsh at times when he trained them but his father had been nothing but silent support in all his years of training. Carson could say that he looked up to his father, and that was why a single glance of disappointment could rip through him harsher and more ravenous then the worst of lectures could do.

 And so the band played on, and he was still here, the wall flower in all its glorious splendor, blooming along the edges of the castle walls to add that dark splash of color along its painted walls. The wall flower would never move of its own justification, and so, neither would he. Until he proved himself, he would be forever a pawn to his father’s rule.

 Which was what made tonight so special.

 He could feel it, a subtle shift in the air as one couple passed by him, The scent of their over fragranced bodies twirling to mingle with the scent of fresh blood that poured smoothly, silently from the necks of those humans still suspended against the wall. His gaze shifted, from the cup in his hand where the dark red clung to the sides in patterns that almost formed the silent screams that were written over the faces of the sill just yet alive humans, their eyes hazing and dimming as they watched his king move to delicately pick up a flute of the life wine they so craved. There was a hum, a low sizzle of energy that had yet to reach the surface of the masses but was growing, the flames edging higher, higher, higher… until he could see it written over the faces of those most familiar to him, the faces of his blood brothers, and the masses that surrounded them.

 It was almost time. Even with no prior knowledge of the events about to unfold, the people in the ballroom could feel the shift in the energy that surrounded those who would wear the crown. Carson moved, his body responding to the call of need that rose in his throat as bile, for this was it, the moment he would prove to all those who would whisper his name under candied tongues and falsely flashing eyes about his incompetency, how he was too soft, to kind, too gentle to be a true king…. This was to be his moment when he finally proved there would be no room in his court of those with far too much kindness bubbling in their hearts.

 Carson watched his father move, a vision of ease even as the room’s loud rumble of laughter and song dulled into whispers of sinister intent, his smile clean, precise and not an ounce of the friendly nature he knew laid behind that gaze. He spotted his mother, turned away from the masses and directly facing his father, a small movement from her enough to entice his father to reach a hand out to her, tan fingers curling around her smaller lighter ones to entwine them with his. He rose her hand to his mouth, lips brushing over her skin as he invested his whole attention into her, the room silent as they watched the King recognize his Queen. If anyone had something to say about it, the words were not found as Soven pulled her to his side,  his hands never leaving her skin, even as he turned to finally address the hush fallen crowd.

 “Welcome! Welcome, my precious friends, dear comrades, I welcome you, to the celebration ball. I know, that many of you hold grievances toward me for the blatant short notice of the ball, but it seems that no harm was done… not many of you could resist a good party, now could you?

 His voice was dark velvet in the night, a rumbling purr that made shivers run down Carson’s spine. His father looked around, a clear disgust flashing in his eyes as he turned his ice blue eyes toward the masses that had gathered despite the protests of it being to sudden and the complaints of inconsiderate timing.

 “But I assure you, this is one party, you will be glad you attended… for those of our community still resting their heads at home, they will miss out on what might possibly be one of the greatest entertainments, this era has yet to see… Bring them out…”

 The last words a snap, an order to be obeyed, and the doors on the far end of the ballroom swung open with a soft and almost silent creak. They moved as one, ropes binding their hands and arms to their back, and even from here, Carson could see the painted red across their flesh, the bruises and wounds that spoke of a fight they had not long since lost. The taller one, her brunette hair tumbling down her back, walked with a sort of desperate limp as her body struggle to keep herself upright, her body trembling and falling into her captors hands more than once as she attempted to make the walk from the door to the center of the room on her own, all pride and dignity stripped away as she let out a muffed call of despair. The other was in no better shape, her pale skin covered in a network of bruises and pretty patterns of slashed flesh. Her ink black hair tumbled over her shoulders, obscuring her face from his sharp vision and she moved slowly, jerkily, as if something inside of her was dislodged and pushed into the soft tissue of her organs. She was drawing shallow breaths as she was forced to walk, blood spilling from her lips, her nose, her arms…

 She was the most stunning creature he had ever seen.

 Carson couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Not for a moment, an instant. It was a marvel, really, at how desperate a man could become in a moment’s notice.

 “I would like to introduce, The leaders of the Rebellion, from right here in Heaven’s Falls, USA. We weren’t able to capture them all…. But the leaders…. They decided to drop in for a little bit of entertainment…. Which My son and Nephew have happily offered to lend them a helping hand….”

 Carson moved, finally stepping from the masses of people to step into the little walk way of the clearing they had created, leading up to the center of the room where the girls now kneeled. He sighed, breathing in deeply as he ran a hand over his slicked back hair and straightened his suit jacket.

 “The black haired one… She’s mine Abram…”

 --------------------

 How had everything gone so wrong?

 This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

 Day, she could recall, days where she had spent countless hours pouring herself over the plans for the riot and the battle plan that she had her sister had settled into place. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a simple supply restock. The riot was meant to distract, to pull the vampires toward the source of the violent out break and to take their eyes off the little pharmacies and stores just at the edges of the town.  All they had needed was some medicine, some medical supplies and possible a little bit of information, but that was supposed to be the end of it.

 The plan had been perfect. At precisely 12:22, she, from her parks stake out station just next to the stores, the police radio in her car sounding off to give a Perfect description of Her friends, the ones place in charge of exposing the riot and fueling the embers of a slowly growing fire, one that, even without the hand of the rebellion, Ashlin was sure would grow into a burning wildfire. At 12: 30, she had stepped out of the car to meet with her Sister, stepped out to see the bright pink of a metal baseball back swing into the air, a low ‘pop’ from her darker sister’s gum more than enough to warn abbot her presence. Ashlin herself simply pulled out the handgun she had strapped to her back loops, a simply caution, not one she had felt she really needed. It was just a simple withdrawal.

 She had been wrong.

 Ashlin’s mind raced, throbbed with pain that exploded like fireworks behind covered lids, every resounding significant beat of her hear sending yet another fresh wave of pain straight to her temples. Her whole-body trembled, shook with the effort of trying to carry herself on bruised and surly twisted ankles, unable to see the darkening bruise, but she could surely feel them as they screamed their presence with every step she took. Every throb was another desperate scream she swallowed, thick and heavy and bitter as a pill, until finally she felt the jerk, the sudden snap of her body being pulled to a forced stop as fingers that circles her upper arms tightened and pushed, pulled and manipulated her to where they wanted her to go. They pushed down, making her already weak knees buckle, the relief she felt as he legs slammed against the ground and she finally took the weight off of her hurt legs was something of a catch 22.

 The pain was only a reminder, an echo, a hint of the pain that had made its way into her veins, visions of it burned along her skin and flash and soul, something she knew she knew she would never forget. It was nowhere near as bright and vivid as it had been in the moments that she had opened the door, only to see an ambush, siting, waiting, who had spared them no mercies as they launched into their attack. They had fought back, of course, and tried to escape and make it out as valiantly as they could, but there had been fore, fire and screams and pain that wove their chains around her neck and squeezed, dragging her back, pulling her into bright white light before all she could see was the darkness of their souls, the hole where their hearts used to be, the blood that was tainted back.

 It wasn’t until she was thrown, carelessly, the laughter and mocking jeers of some vampire waking her from her pain induced come, that she felt her heart start to pound, the panic settling in around her. Her hope that her sister, her stronger, more athletic, far more suited for fighting then she was sister, had gotten away was bright, until she could hear her, hear her muffled cries and her feet slamming against the doors to make them give, a futile effort, and all that hope turned to a black sludge that sank into her gut.

 She had wondered where they would take her…. If they would simply just kill her when they reached the ostentatious castle the Lord King of all that went bump in the night called his home, or would it be public, a spectacle, the thing to see on this particular Friday night, that her death would be met with popped soda cans and popcorn was a thought that made what little pride she held shrivel and die. They would not give her a funeral, this she knew, and they would not give her time chance at last words, especially now, not here, not in this place….

 She could not see, but Ashlin was no fool. She had heard his voice, time and time again as he addressed the people of the nation, the world, Soven Dhouti, King of the vampires. If she was here before him, her chance of making it ot alive had dropped, shattered like the so many hopes she had for her race.

 She didn’t hear him after that, tuned him out as she closed her eyes, even behind the blindfold, and rested against screaming knees to will her boy to stop trembling. God, she wished she could reach out and graze of requiem’s hand, that she could touch her, draw from the bottomless pit of strength and determination her sister had, but rope and chains biting into flesh was a hindrance she could not break, and so she settled for listening, hearing her sister’s breath, little short pants of pain.

 Footsteps came closer, and that breathing hitch, turned into a muffled scream as the sound of gritting teeth and hair bunching together filled the silence that had surrounded them. She could feel it, another one so closer to her that the body heart from him was almost scorching, a strange though as she had always believed vampires to be frigid like winter, no hearts to beat the blood they needed in their veins.

 “I will unblindfold you….” This voice…. It was new, sudden, one she had never heard before. It didn’t come from the one near her, but instead from a foot away, the sound of shifting fabric accompanying it.

 “I want to see your eyes…”

 The voice was so soft… Almost affectionate, but she could hear Requiem’s muffled screams as something slid along the floor, movement making her head turn, though she could not see it, and a muffle yell rip from her bound lips.

 “Let the world see you for who you are…”

 ------

   He was shaking. Unadulterated panic fueling that fire that was sparking in his gut. The room was stark quiet, the audience waiting in awe for what the Kings Son and Nephew would do. Their eyes were on his back, burrowing holes into the clothes and straight through his chest, though he knew logically that the same thing was happening to Carson, but he felt alone in his panicked world. Nerves weren’t supposed to get to him. No to a Lee. Not to one of the Kings sons. But here he stood, his eyes on the brunette that kneeled in front of him. And he could hear the blood rushing through his veins, the roar behind his ears causing the room to sound like there was an uproar about to happen. His heart beat so wildly against his chest he felt as if his sternum might snap.  He watched every movement with precision, watched as the girl’s chest rose and fell with each breath. Watched her even as she snapped her attention to the girls beside her, watched those thin fingers clench and unclench behind her back. There was something about even the tiniest motions she made that made it hard to pull his eyes away from her.

  His movements were slow, calculated in their attempts to cover certain motions. His body crouching over to catch himself on the balls of his feet, elbows catching onto his thighs as his blue eyes moved over the small girl. It shouldn’t be taking this long for him to buck up he knew that, he knew what he had to do.

  Carson’s words sparked some sort of interest in the gathering crowd, their attention shifting to his cousin. But his own attention did not shift, instead he took the open opportunity, his fingers moving up to catch the girls chin, his thumb running over her bottom lip as he leaned forward, enough to feel her breath against his own skin. Her trembling caught him off guard, that panic that was filling him turning, molding into a sort of soft resignation. The small hitch of her breath made his heart yank, and he could hear as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. But his hands moved, lingering on the skin of her cheeks as he untied the bound around her eyes.

  He could feel the low rumble starting in his chest as he looked into her royal eyes, vivid purple irises staring back at him with unshed tears. His thumb brushed over her bruised cheeks, his own eyes closing as he pressed a kiss to each individual eye, tasting her tears on his lips. The beast in him roared, fought to claw its way out, even as he pressed a finale kiss to the top of her forehead.

  Nothing was going to happen to her. Death would not find her this day. But. There was still the matter of pleasing the courts.

  “Calm, Khaleen… You’re going to have to bare through this, for me. ….Shhhh, calm, the faster we get started the quicker it is over. ”

  There was a moment of woeful silence, and the only thing he could do was suck in his breath and start. His fingers  stroked the tendrils of brown silk, letting his thumb run across it for a mere second. Before the reality of the situation had to set in. and with a ragged breath Abram stood, his fist twining around the hair to drag her across the marble floor.

 ----

 ‘Fuck,… fuck. FUCK!’

  The word echoed repeatedly through her mind as the footsteps edged closer and closer to her. Her heart was out of control, thrashing wildly in her chest, warning her to run. Warning her to do something to protect herself. But what could she do with a blind fold on, a gag in her mouth and her hands bound behind her back? The answer? Nothing. There was no retaliation. Not in the presence of what she could only assume was hundreds of vampires. Not in the presence of the vampire king, which if Soven was here, Alder could not have been far.

  The person was too close, she could feel the heat radiating off their body, she could feel their gaze as it dragged over her in what she could only assume was disgust. Could not say she blamed them though, she probably did look a hot mess. And she could not say she would not have looked at them the same way. Even through all this, all it did was prove the worth of the leeches. And just to put it into perspective, that worth, was useless.

  Air escaped her lungs in a desperate cry as she felt the hand fist into her hair, yanking her head back in display as those words were spoken to her. The tone not matching the actions at all.

  “I will unblindfold you….”

  Requiem fist clenched behind her back as tears began to burn behind her eyes a sign of weakness she did not want to give to any of these leeches. Even in her past few days of torture, the shame that accompanied those tears was detrimental to her ego, her pride cracking just a bit more with each instance.

  “I want to see your eyes…”

  The sudden onslaught of the fluorescents caused her to flinch slightly, her eyes squeezing shut at the bright world around her. It took a second for her to force compliance with herself, to force her overly sensitive eyes open to the world around her but all she could see was a world of darkness in a set of multicolored brown eyes. She could feel the tremble wrack her body as she looked him over.

  The moment was short lived however, an instant later she felt those fingers dragging her by the roots of her hair. Her hands jerked, trying to snatch at his hands that had found a home in the black tendrils.

  “Let the world see you for who you are…”

  “FUCK YOU!”

  The words were muffled around the gag, her hands yanking on the bounds still.

  -------------------------------------

 It was her voice, a muffled, tiny, strangled little thing, that made him give pause to his actions, a low burn of curiosity in mismatched as he turned his head slowly, languidly toward the now struggling, writhing girl at his feet. He watched her, eyes giving nothing, lips spilling no words as he took her in, the furious bite to her bright blue eyes and the scowl he could see even past the cloth that bit into her cheeks, kept her from speaking freely. His hand was still tangled in her hair, black strands curling around his fingers like they were unwilling to allow him to go, unwilling to part with him for even just that moment. This was something he used to his advantage to yank her to her feet, ripples of pleasure running over him at the sound of her voice, her screams as her head throb, at the sight of her tears starting to spring to pretty lashed eyes.

 God, he loved that sound. He didn’t even know there was a sound he could love as much as he loved hearing her shout just for him. He wanted more, needed more of the siren’s call, and Carson was not a man who just allowed what he wanted to flutter away…. Oh no, he was a man of standards, of power and position to reach out and take what he wanted.

 And he would do so…. All it would take was a little effort.

 Carson didn’t flinch as he slowly detangled his hand from her hair. The girl before him was nothing less then what he expected out of a leader of the rebellion, strong, poised, the kind of girl who took no shit from anyone and would not back down. She was the kind of girl who hated showing weakness, something he could perfectly understand of course, as he was a man of many enemies, and weakness, in any sort…. Would be fatal. She swayed on her feet as he took his hands off of her, determination flashing in her eyes as she looked at him, chest moving, in, out, in, out, in short shallow breaths, anger pulsing through her so painfully he could almost taste it from where he stood. She didn’t want to show him, of all people, any weakness, and Carson only admired her all the more for it.

 She such a will full little thing, he mused, watching her struggle to maintain her stance with some dignity, but ultimately, she failed, stumbling as her knees gave out and she fell, just as he knew she would, right into his chest. His expression remained cold, distant, but inside, Carson was drowning, burning in a sea of hot ice that seemed to steal his very breath and set his heart racing with electric touches.

  but that just made it all that much sweeter, he supposed, to hear the sound of his fist striking along the already swollen and darkened flesh of her cheek, a bright string in his knuckles as she screamed, involuntarily, of course, and hit the ground with a heavy thud. He gave her a moan, a moment filled with groans and screams as she rolled, stopped only when she hit Carson’s leg, her hands grazing over the black suit of his jacket before he leaned down, reaching out to grab hold of her chin forcibly, harshly, yank her head to the side to face him.

 She would look at him.

 She would look at him until her dying breath. Of this…. He would make sure of.

 “You will respect a King. If you do not find that in you, that’s fine….” He hissed, growled as he lifted her again,

 “I will carve the reminder into you. Now say yes, Master.”

 His fingers moved, trailing along her body deftly to find the cloth that rested between her lips. He took his time in removing it, allowing his fingers to play over pretty swollen lips and to imagine, to memorize the feel of them against his skin. Such a fascinating girl, beautiful, strong…. Things he had never associated with any female, and yet she had his memories with the abyss in her eyes and the way she snarled. He removed the gag, watching her breath hitch, her lips part to reveal white teeth stained in red, a pretty tongue…. And she spit in his face.

 Carson didn’t move. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t think as his brain fizzed out and his thoughts struggled to catch up to him. He was taken back by the action, no doubt, and there was a moment as he simply blinked,  his gaze dropping down to her, her body kicking against what might as well be a immovable statue, watching her chest heave and expanded with each scream and curse she flung his way. He whipped away the pink tinted wad of spit, his hands shaking slightly, before his heart hammered once more, his eyes narrowing as he brought his head back and slammed it into hers. Her screams filled the air as he dropped her, his heart hammering with a vengeance and his breath starting to shallow as pure rage filled his being, a kingly pride in him wounded and such a thing was nothing less than a death penalty.

  He was angry, infuriated, utterly pissed that this bitch of a leader dare sit at him, but there it was, that strange fascination that was bubbling under the surface. He moved, standing as his hands let her go, dropping her to the floor as he turned away again. His hand moved back to his cheek, touching the still wet spot on his cheek as his eyes widened. Everything was blurry, the whispers of the ghouls around him nothing to his tunneled hearing, the snarl ripping past his lips matching the unhinged look in his eyes.

 “You were given fair warning.”

 Carson turned on heel, his jacket now open, and he wasted no time in crouching down next to her, his decision made. His fingers found her hair once more, dark black tresses like silk on his hands, yanking her, pulling her into the crowd that’s seemed to stunned to know what to do, only gaped at him as he reached the first like, the people in the very front who were holding one other’s arms in alarm.

 They had never seen him like this.

 Good.

 They would all soon see what happened when you disrespected him.

 “Move!”

 And order from a King was not to be disobeyed.

 The people moved, making a mall path way as he walked, stormed really, his footsteps sure and heavy as his mind wrapped in the darkness that encased his soul. It was only her screams keeping him grounded as his eyes flashed and his mind flickered with vengeance, his whole body and air seeming to change as the man they knew, the Prince they knew as Carson Dhouti unraveled before their eyes.

 He made it to his destination, a pillar lining one of the ways toward the stage his father sat on, someone already adorning it. He didn’t mind them, inconsequential, not even worth any last words as he moved toward them. His hand moved to the jacket of his suit, eyes widening as he pulled out the black bladed knife he favored so heavily, a blade about three fourths as long as his forearm and a wooden handle, personally engraved with his name. Walking up to the human still hanging, watching his every move, he threw the small girl against it, at the floor but allowing her hurt side to hit the stone. Her sobs were music, involuntary and sudden, and if he had to he would take everything from her without her consent. There was a magic about it, something about making this girl break that had him on the edges, threatening to tumble over.

 His hand moving to the human’s neck, the blade singing as he lifted it to their flesh. It wasn’t anything, a motion he was all too familiar with, something he could do in his sleep, and he slit them, ear to ear, their screams quickly turning to gurgles moans even as his attention moved, to the wrists bound above them, the blood spilling down their chest causing nothing but a mild dull burn in his throat, one that could be easily ignored.

 It was this, he mused irritably, that was the hardest part. He hacked, slitting wrist and nerve and bone, until their arms fell, the body dropping like a marionette with its strings broken. He only spared a few moments with it really, picking them up by their hair, the feel of it nowhere as nice as the one he got from the girl at his feet, using his strength to throw the body, unceremoniously, into the crowd.

 “A little viewing snack… Before the show really starts…”

 It was only after the mummers had died down before he turned to her. She looked up at him, eyes wide, her body still but he could see the fear, lingering, just there in her mind…. There was not much you could hid from a Dhouti, and truly, what a sight he must have been….blood soaking his hands and arms, on his face, dripping from his hair… but there was not an ounce of him that cared.

 His hands felt like they were itching for her, like they were calling for her. They were up before he even knew what he was doing, before he even knew what it was he was reaching for, and He lifted her, until she was standing on her very tiptoes, his knife finding the ropes that held her wrist, cutting through them like butter. Her hands fell to her sides,  almost useless with the way they thumped against her legs, but before she even got the chance to move them, even just a twitch, Carson was already on her, his hands finding hers to yank them up toward the now free bloody cuffs.

 It seemed she didn’t take to kindly to the idea.

 The instant she seemed to realize what was going on, It was like someone had resparked her, the fire in her heart and eyes blazing with a sudden fierceness that made her eyes shin and cheeks flush a pretty pink, something that surprised him with the amount of blood she lost. Her body sprang to life, and suddenly she was kicking, scratching, pulling at him, anything she could to try and wrestle his hands away, her teeth finding him as she screeched her displeasure, which sent a bolt of hot vivid lust straight to his dick, and he just barely managed to bite back a moan from her body grazing him.

 What was she doing to him?

 “Fuck you! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING LEEC-”

 One of Carson’s hands let her arm go, and in a movement too quick for her to stop, almost too quick for her to see, the back of his hand went stinging across her face to draw a sharp gasp and cry from her. Her eyes snapped open, her body freezing before she started again, this time silent, as he was sure he split her lips and tongue on his hit.

 “You’re lucky I want to hear you scream so much, Little one…” he growled, before he finally managed to clap her in the cuffs. He moved back, his eyes narrowing again as she dangled there, watching as she breathed again, his hands playing with his knife, thumb running over the still bloody blade.

 She was such a picture. A blue and black and red….

 The girl didn’t say anything, only glared as he pulled the knife to his lips, running his tongue over the blade, his gaze never once leaving her as he slid his tongue across its length, a slow grin starting on his lips.

 “Filthy….” He muttered, moving to her, crossing the distance with a few quick steps to grasp her throat, Fingers finding home on her skin curling to find the flutter of her heart under thin skin along her neck, a pules like butterfly’s wings. His knife ran along her legs, grazing over her inner thigh, and it pleased him, like no other, that she could do nothing about it.

 She was his to do with as he pleased.

 “Will yours be any sweeter… Or are you nothing but Filth as well?”

 “You disgust me.”

 It was the first words she said to him that weren’t a yell, a shout, and there was logic, somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him that he should not be responding like this to such a thing. His lips shouldn’t be splitting into a more wicked grin, his eyes locked on her, his vision tunneling, and that laughter shouldn’t be boiling on his lips like bile, threatening to spill, he leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers as he used his thumb to tilt her head up toward him.

 “Oh Baby, Just you wait, If I disgust you now, Let me show you absolute repulsion…”

 His fingers danced as he spoke, trailing and lightly searching, until they found it, the light bump that was her rib, displaced, painful and all of that showed on her face. He never allowed her gaze to leave his as he started pressing, pressing… pressing…. The sounds of the bone snapping and slicing, ripping through organs and flesh making him shiver. Her scream filled the air once again, music, madness, but he wasn’t done.

 He pulled away, watching her as she sobbed, her breath sputtering and a wave of blood spilled past her lips, into her fresh wounds and vaguely he could see the darkness creeping around this pretty little creature. She was dying, death was closing in and with it something like dread, a cold stone in his gut, began to build. He ignored it, ignored this disturbing vison he was seeing of her, dead, gone, lifeless, as that was supposed to be what he wanted right?

 He did… He did want this… He had to!

 Carson sank the blade into her leg, in that soft skin just above her knee, pale flesh begging to be stained red, not so deep that he caused any real damage, but enough, enough that she could feel it, feel it as he began to pull it up, slowly, slowly, cutting through her, higher, higher, digging deeper as he went.

 His knee snapped up, hitting her directly on hers, and there was a delightful feeling as he heard her bone snap, crack under the force of it and to hear her curse his name to the high heavens was a sin he never wanted to end. But he could see it, could see that life se so wanted to break fading from her eyes, the life she had, the vigor, fading with each new wave of blood spilling from her lips and ever degree her body lost, was leaving, fading, and now his whole body was shaking, but with a whole new purpose.

 Carson hissed, leaning his face closer to her face, lips brushing over hers for that barest hint of a touch, as he spoke to her, one last time.

 “Take your time healing…. I’ll be back to visit you soon... pet.”

 And his lips crashed to hers.

 His teeth found his own tongue, slicing it to spill rivers of blood into her open mouth, her body shaking as she tried to reject his gift. He didn’t allow her however, nipping at her lips as she tried to pull away and spilled more blood into her, before he ripped away from her with a harsh yank, a grin twisting on his lips to look directly at his father.

 “She’s better of to us…. Alive.”

 His tone was breathy and harsh, over exerted. His father made no motion to move, only watched his own son before his eyes flicked to the other he thought of as a son, and he simply nodded.

 “As you heard all. The show is over…. I hope you enjoyed yourselves, as the show was truly… quite spectacular.”

 Soven moved easily, a king through and through. His hand reached for his wife, pulling her closer and walking the few steps down the stage, along the red carpet. He glided like a true god, a being so ancient the powers themselves feared him. Carson watched as he walked up to him, and Soven placed his hand on Carson’s cheek, his speckled eyes narrowing as he murmured to him, forehead resting on his.

Blood dripped onto her foot, and she watched in an utter fascination as each drop slipped past the gag. She had a split lip, her tongue coated in a tint of her own blood. She really would not be surprised if Ashlin did, not with the moves she had made when they had come to get them. Not a single word was spoken to them as these men dragged Ashlin out of her cell, their lips stern and their eyes lacking any emotion other than a pure rage. They ignored her as she asked on a sort of repetition what they were doing.

  Still there was no answer, and she wasted no time as the cell door opened, the stem of that goblet so beautifully crafted tightened in her grip as her hand slung out, slamming the glass along the wall so that only the stem remained. The first guard made his move pulling onto her arm and she swung, the stem landing its hit directly into his neck. Blood sprayed as she yanked back, taking the glass with her. There wasn’t much room for scuffle when the rest burst through taking her down in a mirage of movements. The only things she could feel was the pain wracking after just a few seconds of fighting back.

  Next she was walking, watching the blood drip from her gag and straining to hear any clue as to where they were going.

   “They are going to get us killed. All of us. You know their little human friends are still looking for them.”

  “Quiet, do you think they won’t take you out for speaking ill?”

  There was sudden pause in their footsteps, The hand resting on her arms squeezing and pulling her to a stop infront of what she could only imagine was elaborate doors, both swinging open with a creak.

 ---------------------  

 God, everything hurt.

 At this point, this was nothing new to her. Pain had become something of a constant, a forever faithful companion that never seemed to leave her side, even in the night when all she wished for was sleep. It clawed her now, dragged its nails along her skin and spine, pulling at her with every step. Every movement she made a fresh wave of pain, a new throb against her temples, a headache that would not fade.

 She supposed a little of that had to do with how she was greeted this morning, or what she assumed was morning. There was something people didn’t tell, or just didn’t realize was something that happened. When you were held prisoner, time passed differently. Everything seemed…. To slow, or speed up to the point she could no longer keep up, all sense she had of being part of the normal stream gone with the light of her days. She had her window, had the glass planes that separated her from the churning skies to tell the da, the time the hour….

 Ashlin had barely managed to fall into sleeps hold, had just managed to allow sleep to trail it’s way past her fitful shakes and trembling hands, when a sudden noise woke her, making her body snap up in instinct, skidding along the floor as she pushed herself backward into the shadows, the only comforting place she had now.

  The doors to their cells were opened with an unceremonious bang, loud, reverberating through the … what she assumed was a large space. She snapped up, eyes wide as she watched them file in, one, by two, by three, until it was all she could see, all she could hear was their voices, snapping at her, telling her to stand, to get on her feet now.

 Ashlin blinked, too surprised to comply.

 That hadn’t sat well with them.

 One had reached out, ignoring the way she flinched away, to grab a fist full of hair to yank to her feet, pulling a strangled yelp from, a desperate sob as she heard her sister calling, pleading with them to tell her what was going on, her voice gaining in desperation as the lifted the brunette to her feet.

 It happened on instinct, a quick surge of desperation and anger that mad her pull back her leg and swing, paying no mind to the pain of being held solely by her hair, the weight of her body dangling on the fistful of stands one of her captors was holding. Her feet planted firmly into the chest of one struggling to get a hold of her, and in that next moment, all she could feel was an exploding white pain behind her eyes as something slammed against her face.

 There was no fight from her after that.

 She tasted blood, she mused as she had walked, solemnly down the halls, guided by a stiff hand and the whispers of those around her, low mummers, hints of a conversation she could not follow. Her eyes were covered again, a blindfold tied tightly around her temples to block her from seeing. Her lip throbbed as she bit more harshly into the gag, blood, or drool, she really couldn’t tell, dripping down her face as she strained her hearing to pick up anything useful.

 “They’ll get us killed…”

 “Still searching…”

 “Don’t see what’s so special…”

 “Wouldn’t talk for five days, why start now…”

 The words, though ultimately useless to her, were heard, stored away in her mind as she tried to place together what was happening. She didn’t know much, but she could gather they were taking er somewhere important, and they didn’t like it, that there seemed to be a general air of tension and discomfort toward the whole situation.

 How curious…

 The doors opened, old hinges on even older doors, the creak of it making her back straighten and her body tense again.

 “Lords… We have the girls…. Per your Request….” There was a stiffness to the mads voice, one she could feel as the hand on her arm tightened to pull her in, toward something warm and homey, smelling vaguely of wood and smoke and cinnamon.

 “Drop them.”

 The reaction was slow, a reluctance that wasn’t there before, but slowly, the fingers left her skin, left her body and she was left to stand on her own two feet, a little wobbly but ultimately, fine.

 “Requiem… tell me you’re okay…”

 Her voice was low, soft, and she knew she risked much with just those few words… but she hadn’t heard from her since that scuffle, and her heart pounded with absolute fear.

  -----

  Honestly, the fascination at just seeing her again burst an emotion he had not felt in thousands of years through his heart. Relief washing over him even as he stiffened in his chair, his pointer and thumb rubbing together in a sort of contingent, the motion soothing an insufferable need to get up and touch her. To make sure for himself that she was fine, to look her over himself, to unbound her and drag her frail frame against his. To whisper apologizes into her ears. Even if they were to fall on deaf ears, how could she have forgiven what he had done to her.

  Though to his defense he was exclusively softer to this brunette that Carson had been to the darkling sitting next to her side. Carson made a move from his side, trying to move towards the two women and Abram pulled on the sleeve of his jacket, his opposite hand coming in a motion of pause. Blue eyes flicked over the girl, her lips moving around the gag in her mouth to speak to what she could only assume was her friend, her colleague. Either way some one of importance to her. Her voice threaded with worry, but spoken so low that even someone of his race would have had difficulties hearing the chime of her voice. But he was a Lee. There was no hiding anything from him.

 “Fine. I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.”

Abram’s head cocked at the interaction, his eyes flashing to the guards that still stood in the room. His hand waved towards them, once again motioning for them to leave a hint they did not seem to grasp. The room was silent besides the foot falls of the guards and the slow creak of the doors closing behind them.

  “You… you don’ think… it’s the kings again do you….”

  He watched as the darkling spoke, her head jerking to the general area of his brunette. And he could feel his own heart pick up with hers. Her heart thundering at the mere mention of them.

  “I don’t know.”

  Abram stood from his chair, his fingers splaying against the mahogany wood of his desk. There was a tick to his blood as he heard the chime in her voice ring again, fear underlying every note. A secret obsession he could not get over, though he had just found it. The sound of her voice touched him like he imagined her fingers on his skin would. A caress of sound. The woman's voice - throaty, husky, erotic - held the promise of satin sheets and candlelight. It played over his skin and sang a song of pure magic in his soul, tantalizing, enticing, sinful. It mesmerized him easily, and he wanted nothing more than to sit here and hear her voice speaking whispered words to him; it haunted and captivated. The notes danced, pure and beautiful, weaving a spell of enchantment around Abram.

  After long, empty centuries, in a single moment, everything had changed and it was all thanks to her. He could feel. He could see the brilliance of the colors in the world. His body was alive with needs and desire, not simply the ever-present gnawing physical hunger for blood. Power and strength ran through him, sang in his veins, flowed through his muscles, and he felt it.

  His feet fell to the ground in a low thump, his eyes on her filled with a desperation that he could not hold out on. He moved with the grace of a predator towards her, his whole humming as he approached. His fingers worked quickly, soothing back stray hairs as he untied the blindfold, then the gag, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip in a motion unstoppable even if he truly wanted to.

  “What’s your name?”

----------------------

 In the moments before they entered, Carson had found himself standing at the large windows that decorated one side of the large den that the cousins had claimed for themselves, the fire roaring to one side of him, behind the chairs they had placed there to form a semi-circle around the fire place. His body was ridged as he stood, arms crossed over his chest and one hand lifted to his lips, thumb brushing over his lip, Brushing over metal to play with the lip piercings absently, languidly, his mind a thousand miles away as his body remained here in the present.

 “Did you consume her blood, Carson?”

 That same line, over and over and over, ran through his mind, a record on lop that he could not stop. His father’s voice drifted over him, pulling him back to his father’s office, when he had entered along on his father’s request, his heart hammering in his chest as he thought about what it was his father could possibly have wanted.

 It was clear that Carson had disappointed him. It was in the way his eyes had narrowed when he had answered his previous question, in the way he had shaken his head and looked away from him for a moment before he had started to speak, his voice low, stern, almost harsh as he told them they could have the girls they so desperately sought. Carson’s stomach, already battling this strange nausea that just would not leave, did somersaults in his gut, his hands clasping behind his back, a sign of respect as well as a way to hide the trebling of his hands, both a nervous tick and a symptom he could not control.

 The question hit Carson as odd. After all, he had expected a lecture of some sort, had expected his father to simply tell him how disappointed in he was, to tell him that he had disgraced the Dhouti name last night and that the position of king would not be handed back to his Eldest brothers, that he had taken both his and his twin’s future away from them with a single mishap. A thousand possibilities had run through his head, but this…. This had not been one of them.

 Carson froze, his mind going, straining to remember that moment, the feeling of her lips against his something he could not forget. It overpowered almost everything else. Her lips were so soft, petal pink with a coating of bright blood red that caught his easily. He could remember the feel of them as he had forced her lips to part with his own tongue and lips, his tongue nearly bitten in two to give her enough blood to back track the damage he had done to her body. However, He had to push past that, tried to see past her lips and her low grunts into his mouth that he had swallowed gratefully…. And still, Carson found that this answer, as well, escaped him.

 Another disappointment.

 “I don’t know.”

 His father had released him soon after that, a simple warning to not take things lightly and to not allow his temper to get the best of him again. Carson had nodded and left, his mind hazy still, and now swimming with even more question.

 Why had his father asked that? Was he trying to see if had taken her blood because he was afraid he would control? Was he saying there was something wrong with her? Did he not trust him?

 Of course he didn’t, Carson had lost that trust when he had lost control.

 “Stupid.” The word was spoken softly, too low for anyone to really hear, but his thoughts were halted as he heard the door creak open, and Carson turn wide, multi colored eyes toward the door, taking a few steps to get closer to Abram as they were led into the room.

 And there she was again.

 God, seeing her was like getting sucker punched right in the gut. She was… absolutely stunning, the most enticing girl he had ever seen, and he had seen many, MANY girls in his very long life. He’d chose her, again and again and again, any day, over any of them, as she was more inviting they any of them could ever hope to be. . In five days, he had nearly forgotten what she looked like, had forgotten how tiny she truly was. She couldn’t have been taller than five foot, if that, her long ink black hair falling, tumbling around her face and body, nearly hiding from view the wounds that covered her body, wounds that Carson knew should not be there.

 Any and all wounds he gave her would have been healed with the amount of blood he had given her, so the blood dribbling from her mouth was not of his hand, and that in and of itself was unacceptable.

 Anger ripped through him, his mind racing as he took a step forward, a step to go toward the girl, but there it was, a light pressure that worked better than ten thousand men when it came to a Dhouti. The hand of a lee was a powerful thing, as they all hand the Dhouti family eating from their palms like tamed attack dogs. Carson stopped, froze in his tracks as he waited, watched their little interaction with a mind interest, his mind and duel colored gaze never leaving the girl as he waited.

 It didn’t take long until Abram was up and moving, already heading to the Brunette he was so obsessed with.

 Carson moved slower, no rush to his movements as he calmed himself. Of course, that effort was wasted, as the storm he had thought he had quelled suddenly surged once more, filling his chest with a heated torment, a desert in his throat as he closed in on her. Everything was pain and longing and need, and he needed… something from her, needed something to make this stop, make it fade, and somehow, he knew it was only her that could to it.

 Carson stopped before her, close enough that he could feel her, her heat, her breath run over his skin as he lifted one hand, his fingertips, in such a striking contrast to the last time he had touched her, brushed over her cheek, her skin heaven on his frayed nerves.

 How was it she could make this hell inside him feel like a heaven?

 His fingers found her hair, moving to the gag that was ripping into her split lip, untying it solely, allowing the cloth to drop to the floor with a near silent thump, his gaze on her as his hand moved again, taking off the blindfold as well, before his hand moved to her neck, nails tracing patterns along the hallow of her throat before he pushed her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

 Carson, for the first time since he had met her, allowed himself to truly breath, taking in a deep breath to catch the scent of what he had now claimed as his.

 And Carson drowned.

 Her scent was something he could not describe, a heaven, an addiction, a sinful hell he had fallen into and held no desire to escape. Her scent was heady, heavy and light, secrets that hurt no one, bike rides on stolen time and day walks in the woods. It reminded him of absolutely everything he loved, brought to his chest a surge of desire that he could not recall ever feeling, his breath hitching as he drew in another breath.

 “Requiem.” The name he had heard the other one call her slipped from his lips as he breath, the name shaky, unsure, like he was tasting it on his tongue and was slowly discovering he loved the flavor. He pulled her closer again, her body flush against him, every inch of him screaming with joy, a revolution in his mind as his body called for something, something he knew all too well… Blood.

 This call was so different. It was powerful yes, but instant, needy, almost raging against his chest. The monster in him beat and clawed, roared it’s need but he paid it no mind, ignored it.

 He would not lose control… not this time.

 “You don’t realize how lucky you are, Xanvek… Tell me, who gave you this? Was it one of my guards? How harmed are you, does it hurt much?” the questions flowed through him easily, too easily.

 Why did he care? Why did it matter to him?

 He didn’t know, It didn’t make sense. She should have been nothing, should have simply been a target....

It had been days since she had seen the outside of the small cell she was in. Her only connection to the outside were those vivid purple eyes that stared at her across the bars. Watching her intently, though to an untrained eye she looked stoic, impassive, Requiem could see. See the worry that lie under that expression, the nerves bundling deep in Ashlin. But her own blue eyes flicked back to the small window in the cell, watching the clouds roll with a new-found intent.

  “You need to eat Req.”

  Requiem pressed herself against the cold stone of the wall, slumping until her arms rested limply over her tummy, knees brought up for the mere comfort. She could feel her eyes on her still, feel their worried gaze passing her, over and over again. It was a bit of habit for the momma bird of a leader. Worrying just to worry about something other than herself. One that Requiem could not quite find the heart to put up with today.

  “Can you talk Ashlin? You haven’t touched anything in days.”

  “Requiem… how do you expect t-“

  “Do you think any of them are even still looking for us? Or do you think they gave up? And think we’re dead… I can’t say I’d blame them if they did… I would have.”

  Requiem shifted her leg, dropping it to allow her foot to press flat against the ground. Her body lifted up but not without a pain filled wince. Sure, the leech had healed her, but it seemed her body was unwilling to fully cooperate. Causing ghost pains at movements that should not have caused anything. But still she could feel her organs tugging at a bone that was no longer lodged into her haphazardly. She could still feel that blade sliding across her skin, flaying pieces. She could still feel those eyes on her, that smug smile turned her way. She could still feel his hands on her, it was sickening. Her own hands traced the patterns over her body that he had and in the midst of it she could feel the nausea climbing up her spin, churning in her guts as she swung her other legs down. Only to allow her body to curl, her elbows resting on the tops of sore thighs catching onto her cheeks as she turned her gaze to Ashlin.

   “Sorry… I’m not feeling myself at all. I feel… different.”

 ------

 Different…. That was one way to put what was happening to them, and it was definitely one of the kinder words that could be used. Ashlin watched her, cool eyes never straying from the body of her smaller sister for longer the it took for the thunder to roll above their heads, outside, through the windows that bared them, more torturous then the hands of the vampires had been because the windows were simply a state of freedom no longer in their grasp. Ashlin watched her sister as she moved subtly, trying to not take any offence to the words flowing from the darkling with an archer’s precision, venom laced in each word to make it hurt.

 Logically she knew that she should take no offence to it. Her sister had always been short tempered, the snapping and agitation was nothing new to the brunette. But there was something about it, a similar song playing in her veins as she felt her body shake just that one more time, her breath still invisible but for the life of her, Ashlin could not get warm. Her body ached, screamed, she couldn’t find one comfortable position to sit in or rest and it was starting to show in the bags under her eyes. Irritation was starting to rip at her skin, at the mask she so desperately clung to now. Her mind raced, even as she shifted once more in that futile effort to get comfortable, her gaze lingering on Requiem before trailing down to her hands.

 They did something to them.

 The question was…. What was they had done? Why was it they hadn’t seen them since that day, with all the creatures, monsters, watching as they spilled their own blood and forced them to drink from them. Was it a humiliation tactic? A way to show them they were nothing? No better than them?

 The thunder rolled again, answers in a language she could never understand.

 The storm moved on.

 Ashlin wished she could take it all away, wished she could simply reach into Requiem’s cell, past the bars that had her cages and locked away in this dark sullen part of the Vampire’s castle. She wished she could sooth her fears, could ease the pain she felt, significantly more than hers had been, and she wished that if nothing else they had placed the sisters in the same cell, so that Ashlin could actually feel her sister, sooth her hair back and whisper her thoughts to her.

 But they didn’t.

 “You know better than that, Reqqy.” Her voice was soft, almost horse as her dry throat closed and surged with pain again.

 “If no one else, Perilium and Abby will never stop. And I feel bad for anyone who dares tell them to stop long for us… You say you would have stopped but I know you…. You would never leave a sister behind.”

“I know, it’s just…”

 Whatever she was going to say seemed to fade away, as the words died on her lips. Ashlin’s gaze moved from her once more, to the plate of food, food that really, she never expected from them. She expected gruel, mash, some sort of loaf and water, something that wasn’t made for taste but rather to simply keep her alive. Instead, every day, a hot meal was brought in, served on a beautiful platter and definitely arranged with care, almost lovingly so. It was never anything disgusting, always something that had her mouth watering and begging her to just dive in, but for the past few days, she had held out, refusing to give them the change to off her off silently.

 But there was only so far that she could go, and Ashlin was starting to break.

 “How are your wounds?”

 She changed the subject, partially because she didn’t want to face the growing possibly that her sister were not coming, that she would die here, in this cell, only a window to let her watch as the outside world passed her by, and the other part was to take her mind off the food she refused to eat.

 -------

  “Their fine. I’m just sore now. Don’t worry about me.”

  Her fingers played over the back of her neck, her head dangling precariously between her legs. The motion did nothing to sooth the nausea that was running wave after wave over her being. Though it was on most part due to the fact it was her own hands trying to sooth herself. She needed something, the feeling crawling through her in a sort of dazed manner. It was the only thing she could concentrate on. The only thing her mind could clearly focus enough on to recognize this.

Her eyes grazed over the food that sat in the elaborately decorated plates. But the mere thought of the food had her stomach doing back flips. Repulsed her thoroughly enough to force her back against the cold slab of stone. What was it… What did she want?

  Blue eyes flicked to the goblet that stood so prettily next to the platter. Inviting all on its own. The longer she stared at it the stronger she could feel the itch in her throat, the burning building up in her chest as she stared the silver down. The motions were slow at first, leaning partially to look inside the content of the cup. If only to see the color of the liquid, which from this stance she could see the vivid red of what she could only guess was wine.

  Thunder rolled once again followed directly by the flash of the lightening that had Requiem standing, her eyes never wavering from the cup that stayed stark still. She stared it down as if a single second of her attention shifting would cause it to up and disappear. Pale finger came up to grasp at her throat, the fingers digging into the flesh just as she bent over the cup, her other hand finding the stem.

  Icy eyes flicked to Ashlin, who still had not let her gaze drift or even move. Her sister watched her just as intently as Requiem had been watching the cup. Her fingers pressed into the silver stem as her lips quirked.

  “What about your’s? Are they doing any better?”

 -----

  “It’s been days. Five, if you want to be exact. We can’t just keep them in cages like wild animals. They aren’t sleeping, they are not even eating.”

  “Do you think we would have got the same courtesy if the situation had been reversed, Abram? Whhat do you suggest we do? Let them leave? Place them on probation? No. The fact of the matter is they are leaders to a rebellion. They aren’t going anywhere and they are not leaving these grounds. Not alive.”

  Abram could feel the frustration rising in his gut, the small rumbles already building again as they seemed to do every time he thought about the brunette. Anytime he imagined those tear-filled eyes. God, she had a way of getting to him when she was not even around. And he did not even know her name.

  His father moved from his mother’s as he stood, flattening both on the oak wood that laid out in front of him. And Abram could feel that sickening feeling rising over him once more. Knew the words that were about to come from his father’s mouth even as he watched him part his lips, the words barely on his tongue before Abram cut him off again.

  “I won’t kill her. Do what you want with the other, but the brunette is mine.”

  There was a crash as his father’s fist slammed against the table, his own blue eyes closing in the frustration. Alder sighed, his finger coming up to press against the bridge of his nose. The slow growl that was building up in his throat tumbling out with his words.

“Abram. She is not a animal. You said it yourself. You cannot just keep her.”

“She’s mine. Not a single person is going to harm her, ill snap the neck of any person that tries. And if that mean you Dad, then I’m just going to have to count you as one of the casualties of this war.”

  “Abra-“

  His mom started, her eyes stern as she stood from her husband’s side. And Abram paused only for a second his eyes shifting over Soven and Arber then Carson. He was shaking again, his hands grasping the table to keep a sort of semblance of calm.

  “I’ll take out the whole court if I have to.”

 -----------------------

 “I really don’t think there’s going to be any need for that, tovak.”

 His voice was soothing, calm, and wholeheartedly….a lie. Inside he was boiling, freezing, raging with the vengeance of an army, and it was just barely he was able to keep the trebling from his limbs, sheer force of will that he had yet to break out into a sweat as the fire licked along the ice that was in his veins. It was a terrible contrast, one that had him tossing and turning, sleep avoiding him like the plague, different from his usual set of nightmares, flashes, vision of what and need, nothing new but still something utterly foreign. Where sleep avoid him, The nightmares filled in the void, a living horror he could not escape, and instead, Carson found himself wandering the halls, his body shaking, his stomach heaving up bile as she tried to shake whatever it was that had gotten hold of him.

  His head throbbed, pounded with every bit his heart made and all Carson wanted to do was close his eyes, curl up with Either Abram and Asher or His brother, to sleep it away… but his body ached, and his throat felt dry, burned with a thirst he could not quench. Oh, and how he had tried.

 Even now, he could taste the still vivid burst of blood on his tongue, could still feel the thrashing as more than ten people had lost their lives that morning, filling him to the brim, to the point that he felt, should he drink anymore, he might just burst…. And he had hoped that this would be enough to sooth the beast in him that had awaked some night ago, the monster in his that plagued his mind and clawed at his throat to draw the ravenous need to the forefront of his mind, but it wasn’t. No not nearly enough.

 Was he dying? Was he sick? He had never heard of a vampire getting sick, not like this, and so his mind, blurry, hazy as it was, was trying to piece together this jigsaw of a riddle, but it seemed he had more than just a few pieces missing, crucial ones needed to see the whole picture.

 “Dad…” Carson started, watching as His father’s gaze snapped toward him from his position of the edge of His Uncles desk. Soven’s hands were playing with his mother’s hand, running fingers along her knuckles and palm, a clear sign his father was thinking, his mind racing, though his eyes flicked back and forth between the two boys, Abram still staring his father down as Carson took that step forward, his hand finding the brunette’s shoulder to off her a light squeeze.

 “It might be… more beneficial to you if you allow us to take them. Think about it.” He spoke quickly as he saw his father’s lips part to say something, the word no already ringing in his ears.

 “As of now it’s been five days. No one as managed to make them eat, or sleep, none of your best torturers, none of your advisors. As it stands now, you are only going to end up losing to very valuable assets, and any information they would have had is lost. Just give them to us… Abram and I will take full responsibility for them, will take on all responsibility for what they do and the information they give us. We’ll take care of them, as it will sooth Abram’s possessive nature and will give me a chance to work them over, get something out of them this time.”

 “What make you so sure you can even do it, Carson?”

 His father’s words made his words stubble, stutter as he fell silent for a moment in blank shock. His father looked up from his mother’s hand turning to finally fully face the dark haired boy, and Carson could feel his body being to shrink back again, falling in on itself as he felt five and mortal all over again.

 “What?” Carson question, his hands clenching as his father moved, easily, regal without even trying, letting go of his mother’s hand with a light kiss on her knuckles before he turned back to his Youngest son, eyes stern but there was that warmth, the one that had been missing from nights ago.

 “What your asking is a heavy price, Carson. The sway, possibly the very result of this war, will rest solely on your shoulders. That means and casualties, and failures, and wrong information they might give you, that all resides on you. You’re asking us to place the existence of our specie in your hands, when you can’t even control your temper at a little spit.”

 “But-“

 “My answer is no, Carson. I can’t risk them getting the better of you. Abram’s already proved he more than willing to let her live no matter the cost, and you couldn’t even control yourself last night-“

 “YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT!?”

 Carson could feel it, that swell of temper that surged up in his chest and burned its way to his tongue. All he could hear was ringing, all he could see was flashes, those visons again of her, bright eyes and dark hair falling around her face, and his father words ringing in his head. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt but that pain fueled him, pushed him forward as one hand grasped the side of the desk, a low roar falling from his lips as he flipped it, pushing it into the air and sending it flying into the wall next to them. The old wood shattered, splintered into nothing under the strength of his royal blood, but Carson paid it no mind, his eyes wide and focused, solely, on his father.

 “YOU THINK NOT A MINUTE GOES BY THAT I DON’T THINK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED!? I planned to kill her, I planned to do what I was supposed to, But I COULDN’T! Something told me to not, that it would be a mistake, and I followed my gut, like you’ve always told me too. And now your punishing me for it? No, that’s BULLSHIT! Give her TO ME!  SHE’S MINE, Been MINE SINCE THE MOMENT SHE WALKED IN THAT DOOR, MY TARGET, AND You keep allowing FILTHY FUCKS to Touch her! I’ll get the information you need, and I’ll do it without killing her. I’ll get everything you want, just give her to me as my pet.”

 Soven didn’t move, only started down his son, who was breathing heavily, his hands clenched and his body shaking with what Carson could only assume was repressed rage. Carson watched his father look over him, watched as he crossed his arms and finally closed his eyes, rolling his head to look over at his Uncle, who seemed mildly disturbed by the fact his desk had been taken as a casualty. Soven’s eyes flickered with meaning, and even with his training, Carson could not hear the words in their minds.

 “Fucking great.” Alder’s voice snapped, his uncle pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. Soven sighed, before he turned his head back to her, blond hair falling in his face as he tilted his head slightly at his son.

 “You fight strongly for her, Ulvar.”

 “I do.”

 “Why?”

 Carson didn’t really know. He could say he did, make up something, but the fact is, Carson could not tell you what it was that drew him to this girl so much. He needed her, needed to see her, there was something drawing him to her and the longer he stayed away, the more it was starting to bother him. His stomach was already screaming, flipping and churning bile in his gut. No words came to mind to explain this feeling, but Carson’s mouth parted. His father wanted something from him, and Carson Strived to deliver.

 “She’s mine. Mine to break, and it feels wrong for someone else to get that victory.”

 Soven narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. Carson’s heart dropped…. He had answered wrong.