A/N: Yes, I am still alive. I apologize for being such a horrendous updater. While I was away, I have not gained ownership of any of Stephenie Meyer's fabulous ideas. This oneshot is set during Edward's rebellion. I hope you enjoy! Even if you don't, please take the ten seconds and review anyway. Thanks!

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He crossed his arms over his chest as he attempted to blend in with the crowd entering the cabaret. Of course, it wouldn't work, but he could try. It was still tricky getting into places like these. He would have rather ­not been headed to this particular cabaret that evening, but he had unfinished business.

The man in the door, clad in flamboyant attire, easily picked him out from the older men. "Say, I don't think you're old enough to get in here. How old are you anyway?"

"Old enough." His voice was confident and slightly annoyed.

"Well that isn't good enough. Now just turn around and be on your way—"

"No, no, mister," a girl from within the cabaret interrupted. Her voice was high and girlish, with a devious edge to it. "He's with me,"

The boy flipped his hair out of his eyes and looked up at the girl speaking. She was just like the rest of them with her cinematic makeup, dark tights, and a sinfully low neckline on her bodice. He gave her a slight smile, a clandestine sort of smile.

"What'd I tell ya? Come on, mister, we've got an agenda."

The boy proceeded inside the noisy cabaret. He barely had time to look around at the other girls wearing similar outfits, or the men sipping their drinks, when she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his face down to hers.

"You know you do owe me a little something for saving your skin back there," she hinted.

"I could have found a way in without you," he said softly, prying her fingers off his shirt.

She frowned. "I ought to throw you out right now,"

"You couldn't," he pointed out.

"I work here Fridays and Saturdays; I got a right to,"

"No, you really don't. Nobody would listen to you," he slipped through the crowd of sweaty bodies, always searching. Everyone's thoughts here were so similar, it was difficult to distinguish one from another. ­Hedonists, he thought, all of them. Finally, he saw her. She was dressed like the rest, but with the extra aura of flirtation and seduction around her.

How he hated being here… between the music, the alcohol, and the overall din of the place, he wondered why they didn't all get splitting migraines on the spot.

She was wandering through the throngs of people, her thoughts and actions just about as clean as the cabaret's floor. He caught her eye and motioned her to come over to him. She gracefully made her way over to him, hands akimbo. "What can I get for you tonight?"

"I think you ought to come with me for a while," he said, attempting a seductive nature.

Her eyes looked over him approvingly. "That could be arranged." She turned on her heel and started towards a back room.

His chilling touch on her shoulder made her turn around instantly.

"Wouldn't you like to come with me? Outside?" he asked lightly, thought his voice was heavy with implication.

She batted her eyelashes. "Very well,"

She sauntered behind him as they made their way out the back exit. Grateful to be outside of the high-energy atmosphere of the cabaret, the boy cleared his mind for what was about to happen.

He had been watching her for a while now, and tonight he would strike.

"So where do you have in mind?" she asked, her hand brushed against the sleeve of his coat. A wicked smile stole over he face for a moment. "You're cold, I can tell,"

"Perhaps I am," he slowly backed away from her, motioning her to follow. His eyes did not leave hers.

They stole through the city until they had reached a street in which they were quite alone. The darkness hid their every move.

His hand moved along the side of her neck. The pulse beneath his fingers increased slightly. "Have we met before?" she asked, her voice with the same edge as always.

"Not properly, no," he replied, moving his face close to hers. Instead of kissing her, he moved his face down to her neck and stayed like that for a moment before pulling away. He then lifted her chin up with his hand and looked into her eyes.

Yes, she was a sinner. Her mind revealed her most scandalous affairs, and from observation the boy knew she was as clever with persuasive words as she was with a knife. She had played her part to perfection, and now this scene was coming to a close.

He reached down to feel her heartbeat again, and this time she took it as flattery. Her hand, fingers like snakes, intertwined with his. His eyes turned cold and when he spoke, his voice had a hostile edge to it; "Tonight…" his voice trailed off.

"I'll show you something you won't forget for a long time," she batted her eyelashes and moved closer to him.

"There will be no tomorrow for you,"

She looked him up and down. "That's what they all say." She gave a wry smile. "How are you going to prove me wrong?"

"I've already proven you wrong, or more so, you are already wrong," he gauged her reaction.

"What's that supposed to mean, dear?" her brow creased, and the confidence in her voice faltered.

"It means exactly what I intend it to mean; you will never see the light of day again," his face was now very close to hers.

She laughed shakily. "Is that a promise?"

"I swear it," Both of his hands were now on her neck.

"Hey, what are you trying to pull?" her words came out in a rush.

"Suppose I don't bring you back to that disgusting cabaret?" his voice was rough and icy.

"You wouldn't dare—"

"Yes, yes actually, I would,"

"I'll scream." Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes darted helplessly around his face.

"And who will hear you?"

He covered her mouth and moved his face to her neck once more.

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