You were my fairytale before the castle fell
He has plans for her, he tells her. He talks about how she's smart, a strong girl, calls her beautiful and drifts off into an inappropriately long description of how perfect her skin is.
He's insane, she thinks. And so am I.
He doesn't look burnt at least, this time. She still shudders at the thought of his appearance, of the smell and how unnaturally hot his breath felt against her neck.
No, this time he's all about immaculate appearance, hair coiffed, lips twisted into an almost gentle smile as he traces her collar bone. She's come to try her best to ignore him, but he's always there, always promising, always wanting.
"I can't give you the bite, of course, but with my help you could be so much more, nobody would hold you back anymore."
He's standing behind her while she's staring into the mirror, mildly wondering if it's unusual that he has a reflection at all. He brushes her hair away from her neck and bends down to kiss her shoulder before biting down in an almost casual manner.
She has gotten used to him, but she flinches anyway, can't help but remember his open mouth, the sharp teeth, coming closer until there's just pain and she loses consciousness.
"Shh, it's okay." She can see his smile, can see his eyebrow quirk up just a little. "It's not in my interest to hurt you, Lydia. You have absolutely nothing to fear from me, my dear."
He starts rubbing his nose against her neck again, breathing deeply, when it tickles her in an entirely too pleasant way with the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. It feels like it's been forever since somebody touched her or talked to her. It feels like forever since somebody hasn't lied to her. She wants to believe him, she decides, because he's dangerous, but if he doesn't want to hurt her she's safe. Maybe.
"Anything you want, I'll give you." His hand has found her knee where it starts tracing patterns and suddenly there's claws slicing cleanly through her tights. "I could protect you."
Her desire to trust him is almost instantly gone. She wants to cry and wants to scream instead. It's you II need protection from, but nothing comes out of her mouth.
When she's quiet, he takes her chin between his fingers and turns her head so she faces him directly instead of searching her eyes through the mirror.
"If you won't answer me, I'm going to need a kiss instead." His head tilts in that funny way it always does when he's mocking her, but his expression changes to something more serious when he leans in.
His kiss feels almost exactly like that of his sixteen year old self, it's only his face that feels rougher, scratchier. She likes to think she's driven by want for this boy, who gave her a flower, this boy with whom she'd thought she could fall in love with, when she starts kissing him back.
Her hands are buried in his hair when he breaks free and looks entirely too pleased with himself.
"There's only one thing I need you to do for me first."