So this is bekah-lauren'.D's fic that she requested because she won the review contest on my Insanity's Finest story. This was her prompt for me:

If it could be romantic, with Myrnin still being actually insane, and with no Shane-is-a-jealous-weirdo-and-dumps-Claire's-ass drama, that would be wonderful.

So, here we go.

Dust mites fell onto Myrnin's cold skin like snowflakes fall onto the ground. They were slowly accumulating on his shoulders and on his head as he sat motionless in his wingback armchair, staring ahead into the darkness that surrounded him in a loving caress.

It had been three weeks since Amelie had forced Myrnin to take on Claire Danvers as his latest apprentice, despite all of his protests.

And yet, he found teaching her... enjoyable somehow. The girl was smart, there was no denying this; she had the ability to think about things in a more extensive way than other humans could. But she was also innocent and naïve.

Innocence and naivety had never been a thing Myrnin associated with. He never chased after pure women just for the simple reason that they had less fun than those who slept with sin.

But it made some greedy part of him—something deep in the black whirlpool that was his essence—desire the Danvers girl and all of her purity. To steal it away from her so he could possess it. It gave him a new kind of hunger—a darker one—that would only be satiated if he had that glowing part of the girl that called to him so loudly. Something he could only receive if he was the one to corrupt her.

Myrnin would make her his.

Claire used the key she had been given to open up the padlock that was on the door to Myrnin's lab. Claire pocketed the lock and its key as she pushed the door open. It swung in with an ominous creek and the stench of mold and copper danced with her senses as she walked into the darkness.

Claire felt her way down the cement stairs and finally found herself in the lab—but there was no light whatsoever in the place. It was pitch black and Claire couldn't see a thing.

She felt something brush against her back and she froze.

"M-Myrnin?" she said in a hushed tone into the dark.

"Claire." Cold breath blew across her neck and she screamed.

Long, cool fingers covered her mouth mid-yell, muffling the sound until it died out.

This is it, she thought to herself. I wonder what they'll tell Mom and Dad.

For some reason, Claire had slowly been letting her guard down with every visit she took; Myrnin seemed more human than Amelie or Oliver. He seemed more capable of sentiment than both of them in his times of sanity. He just looked so sad, Claire wanted nothing but to help fix him.

Now she realized she had made a mistake. Even Myrnin had told her never to trust him. And she was going to pay the consequences of not heeding advice that had been given to her by several people.

She was about to get herself killed.

With her heart pounding in her ears, Claire realized she was nothing more but another poor person to die in Morganville who wouldn't be properly recognized.

Myrnin removed his palm from Claire's mouth when he was sure she wouldn't yell again. He put one gentle hand on her shoulder and wrapped the other around her wrist at her side to prevent her from running anywhere, keeping her facing the empty lab. He leaned his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.

"Can I please leave?" she asked him quietly. Sometimes if she said this, a flicker of sanity would show in his eyes and Myrnin would let her depart without trying to chase her down; he would respect her desire to go.

This time, however, he smiled against her neck and then whispered into her ear, "No."

Claire felt his smooth lips slide across the place of her throat where her pulse was jumping. She shivered at the sensation of his icy skin against her hot flesh and it made a strange part of her, deep in her stomach, melt.

"I'm not going to eat you, child," he whispered, his accent now a refined English instead of something that sounded slightly Welsh. "I would like to, yes," he said, his mouth still at her neck. "Yes, how I would love it. But there is something more I want from you than your blood."

"What?" Claire asked, surprised. "I don't have anything you'd w-want," she breathed, her voice shaking.

Myrnin laughed low in his throat, and it almost sounded like an amused growl to Claire. "You don't, do you?" he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin.

Claire shook her head.

"I think otherwise," he said.

In one lithe movement, Myrnin spun her around so she was facing him without seeming to have let go of her. Claire desperately wanted to gaze into his eyes to see what they looked like—to see if their depths held a raging sea of dark brown, or a lonely glint in them that represented the man she knew was somewhere in him, however deeply buried under the madness.

"Myrnin—"

In the next moment, his lips were pressed against hers and Claire had no idea how to respond. She tried pushing him away, but her efforts were in vain; he was too strong and hardly seemed bothered by it.

Myrnin smirked against her lips as he kissed her at her attempts to move him. Of course such a wholesome dove would try and rid herself of his debasing presence. Had she never been touched before? But it only made him want her more, to devour her and consume her soul, possessing her and her sinlessness completely.

It was like inhaling fire, setting his senses ablaze with the taste of her, making him long for her blood. He would not indulge, however. Perhaps he would prolong it, stretch out the wait he had until he pierced her neck with his fangs and drank her lifeblood.

The girl tried to speak, as her endeavors to push him away were in vain, but when she opened her mouth, Myrnin took this opportunity to deepen the kiss.

She made a sound of surprise into his mouth and Myrnin chuckled darkly.

In another moment, however, she seemed to relax and start enjoying the intimacy.

How strange, Myrnin thought as he began getting used to the feel of her moving against him. The lion corrupts the poor lamb.

The Bible never mentioned this.

"And shall they lie down together as well?" he muttered to himself when they broke apart for Claire to catch her breath.

Claire was beginning to disappear as Myrnin felt the silky tendrils of madness wrapping themselves around his mind. All too soon, the girl would be nothing but a vague memory he wouldn't be able to remember.

And he would want to kill her.

This game was not going to be as fun if he let the other Myrnin participate. The insane one. The lunatic.

If he let his darker side take control, Claire would surely die.

His lips were powerful and he moved them so expertly against hers, it was if she hadn't even had a choice whether she would begin to respond to his touch.

Myrnin broke away from her to allow her time to breathe which she appreciated. But Myrnin didn't lean in for... well, more. Instead, he put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back.

"Get out," he said, but she couldn't see what was happening other than him pushing her away. "You mustn't be here."

Claire frowned. "But—"

"I'm doing this for your own protection, sweet. Please, do not let my efforts be in vain." He pushed her toward the staircase and placed a quick kiss on her forehead.

Claire turned and started going back up the stairs. She tried looking back, but the darkness in the place was so complete that she couldn't see a thing. Before she left, however, she heard him mutter something that sent chills down her spine, but she couldn't decide whether they were in anticipation or fright.

"I'll be back for you, little lamb."

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