Disclaimer: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Story is produced without profit.

Characters: Leah/Felix

Status: Completed one shot

Rating: Older Teen - Adult

Warnings: Non explicit sex. Mentions of murder.

Inspirations: -

Notes: Leah has not imprinted on Felix.

Summary:A thousand drained corpses and prayers for mercy can't drag her from him. Even when she wished it could.

…

Wither

...

The room is dim, an almost dead light flickering overhead. It bathes the room in a warm amber glow setting a shine upon her skin. Roses droop in a dirty crystal vase and she smiles, slow and daring. His arms wrap around her and she slips out of his grasp, dancing backwards on the tips of her toes. His eyes burn with playful anger and she laughs.

He moves towards her slowly, a predator stalking his prey. Every move is sure and fluid, every action has only one thought behind it. To take her.

She feels her back against the wall and his eyes on her throat. He lowers his head, grazing kisses against warm skin and she moans softly. Nuzzling her hair and neck, he turns to face her. Crimson eyes burn through her soul and not just with lust and passion. They remind her of what he really is, taunting her and forcing her to see the monster behind the mask.

Stolen blood and dreams and wishes.

And mothers crying and children screaming. A dead weight settles in her stomach because she knows she won't turn away. A thousand drained corpses and prayers for mercy can't drag her from him. Even when she wished it could.

Was this evil? Selfish desire that considered no others. He was evil. He drank and drank, taking lives and all their potential. He had once smiled as he recalled a weeping secretary and the taste of blood and sex upon his lips. But was she? Was loving the devil enough to rot your soul?

Or had she sold it to him long ago?

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, lips still working against her skin.

She swallows hard and turns her face into his neck. "Nothing," she whispers and it's still the truth. Her thoughts of death and pain, all caused by his hand, is nothing compared to the feel of his fingers in her hair.

He stares at her for a long moment. His eyes searching and he knows what she is thinking. He knows everything about her. He is her. So deep in her soul that she can't remember where she ends and he begins. He looks worried as if she might run away and his lips take hers, rough and desperate.

His hands find her dress. Lifting and pulling and tearing and she mirrors his actions with his own shirt. Needing to feel his skin on hers. Sometimes she wonders if it is all a dream. Looking at the dark sky and the bright, shining stars thinking Am I here? and is any of it real? He runs his hands up her bare back and she knows.

And she wants to cry and rejoice at the same time.

He pulls her down onto his lap, and buries his face in her neck. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. The desire to taste her is so overwhelming but how could he live? Without his girl, his goddess, his other piece. Cave to the thirst and his existence would be rendered dull and useless. Never looking into bright eyes and knowing that she knows. Every wicked thought that flashes through his head and every fantasy of him and his girl, making love and loving each other in a way that can only be described as twisted.

"Leah..," he groans as she moves against him. His hips meet hers in a rhythm that they never have to think about. His nails dig deep, breaking skin and drawing blood but he doesn't stop because he knows he doesn't have to. She likes it when it hurts and he likes to see her bleed.

He works his way inside her. Deeper and deeper until she stops thinking of death and blood. The world could end and she wouldn't care. All she can feel is strong arms around her waist and thick hands on her back. And lips on her neck and her soul back in place were it always belonged. There's no room left for guilt or pity. Or mercy.

His hands shift to her hips and he brings her down harder. He wants to have her, climb into her and take her over from the inside. He wants her to love him and hate him and need him and want him and never leave him. He sees the disgust and rage that floods her eyes when she looks at him. The utter hatred that flares when he pisses her off and he delights in it. Because she is him and he is her and they can never be without each other. Not even their own emotions and desires can come between them.

"Felix...," she pants, his name a vow on her lips. I can't leave you even if I wanted to. And he moves faster so he can hear it again. Her thighs clench around his waist and he can feel muscle throbbing under warm skin. He buries his face in silky hair and bites her shoulder, not long enough to poison her but hard enough to leave a mark. He tastes sweat and blood but it's the bruise that sends him over the edge. He sees the evidence that she is his and throws his head back with a growl as she arches into him.

She still moves against him even when it's over, not wanting to let go and he grips her hips and rests his head on her neck. He mumbles something into her skin and she doesn't hear him but she knows what he's said. She ignores it anyway. It's cheap and easy...a moment of weakness and she's had them too. Three words that don't tell the whole story. I love you. And I hate you and I want you and I need you.

But in the dark with his arms around her, she knows that he hasn't taken her soul...it was always his in the first place.

….