Sometimes Isabelle just wanted to feel something.

She couldn't quite put her finger on when it started, the creeping sense of numbness. It had travelled from her center, to her limbs, creeping through bone and flesh at a nearly alarming rate. She was young. She was a force of nature, leaving nothing standing in her path. She was a protector, of Mundanes, and of her family. She was a secret keeper, for her brother and her mother. She acted like a hurricane, raging on the outside, and strong, but still and achingly quiet on the inside. Sometimes it nearly brought her to tears.

Not that she ever could have shown them.

She had started bringing them home to distract her parents. Alec was to be protected. They would never have accepted him. And they accepted her choices even less, Downworlder men who came and went, leaving nothing behind but a sour impression. And there was an aching loneliness in her that they managed to fill for a time.

She hadn't expected their touch to be so addicting.

The first had been a werewolf, feral in both look and touch. He wasn't her typical type, she'd admit that. But he had a wild spirit in his eyes that tore at her when he spoke. It hadn't taken long for him to make it to her bed, scratching at his skin as she pulled his leather jacket off and threw it to the floor. He smelled like motorcycle grease, and left marks on her porcelain skin, but it was already scarred, and ugly. She could hardly complain. And as rough as he may have looked, he let her lead, allowing her to shove him towards the bed. She was sure she would have broken it if it hadn't been so well made. By the time he's shoved her skirt up, and ripped her panties off with claw -like fingers, she's dragged his jeans and boxers down. She doesn't even bother with the rest of their clothes before she slides herself over him, dropping her head back and rocking her hips hard against his. She loves the moans he makes as she sinks over him again and again. He presses his fingers so hard into her hips he leaves bruises that don't fade for days. She doesn't mind, she loves his fingers. Especially when he moves them to rub their harshness against her clit, forcing her to whimper as she starts to ride him harder. She can't see his eyes then. Hers are closed, preferring to stay in a world of her own as she arches her back to aid her movement. sliding her hands under her shirt to clutch at her breasts herself. It's only a short while before she's thanking the angel for birth control runes, as her body shakes and starts to clench around him and he releases deep inside her with a shudder. She's left breathless, and sticky, but at least the feeling is all she can focus on for long enough to fall asleep without nightmares of something tearing her throat out in the dark.

It had been enough to last her awhile, but she could hardly call herself satisfied.

The next had been a vampire, and while she barely survived the encounter, it fills her with a rush that propels her forward for weeks. He's quick with her, fingers moving imperceptibly to push her panties aside. She's still working at the buttons of his shirt when he forces a moan out, sliding one, then two, then three fingers into her center as his lips hover over hers. He doesn't kiss her, but she can feel a cold sort of breath against her as she moves her hips, working herself over his hand until she's so wet she's practically dripping. He lets her taste herself, pushing his fingers into her mouth to suck at as he drags her skirt and panties off. She's bare to him in moments, and she can only be thankful as his skin meets hers with a dull slap. He's harsher than the others have been, dragging his fingers over her thighs to hold her legs apart as he thrusts with abandon. And she can still see the smirk on his face, watching her intently as she arches her back up off the bed to meet him with force. The skin stretched across her ribs is marked, and bruised and his eyes travel up until his lips finally meet her skin, sucking at her breasts for a time before he drags his tongue up over her flesh to her neck. It's a shock when he suddenly sinks his teeth in just above her collarbone. Her body shivers from the sudden pain, but she finds she doesn't dislike it, allowing her hands to explore his chest as he sucks at her neck and continues to thrust. By the time she starts to shudder around him, she's nearly light-headed, blood running down between her breasts and to her stomach. He comes mid-thrust leaving her cold, and aching. She barely catches him slipping away as she heals the wounds at her neck, but she doesn't mind. She spends the night in the wet spot of an unfamiliar bed, bloodied, rumpled and exhausted. But at least even breathless and sore, she sleeps.

There's Faeries as well, but they're slow, and deliberate, and slim. The encounters leave her sated, but always aching for more. They're selfish by nature and they leave her without care. She finds she likes the women she meets in clubs much more. She had hardly taken it serious at first, surprised when she turned from a bar to find a near strangers lips against hers. But she isn't displeased by the action, and she's dizzy enough from the alcohol that she boldly abandons care and follows her to a near-by hotel. She's used to being fucked, not touched, and she quickly finds there's a difference between the two. It nearly takes her breath away as the pull at each others clothes, leaving her naked as the woman explores her scars with soft fingers and gentle eyes. Her kiss nearly takes Isabelle's breath away, and she wraps a hand in the woman's hair to keep her from escaping. But it isn't long before she does, dragging her lips down Isabelle's neck, to her chest, leaving a warm trail of kisses down her front until she hits her center. She's gentle when she pulls Isabelle's knees apart, lifting her hips off the bed to lap at her middle. Pressing her tongue into Isabelle's center pulls a gasp out. And she works to suck at her flesh with rhythm, pulling her tongue out every few thrusts to run it over Isabelle's clit. Isabelle can taste herself on the womans mouth when he finally kisses her lips again, replacing her tongue with three of her fingers. It doesn't take long for Isabelle to explore the woman's body as well, as she rocks against her hand. She lets her fingers slip down as well, meeting them with warm flesh. She finds she doesn't dislike the wetness between the woman's legs, slipping a cautious finger into her center and shortly following it with another. It's a tight fit, but it's warm, and despite everything it feels safe. And to Isabelle's surprise, the woman doesn't leave when she comes, but continues undeterred. They fuck each other with fingers and tongues all night, leaving Isabelle glowing and exhausted in the morning.

The men she meets in clubs are much more severe, but she finds they leave her with a rush that doesn't fade for days. It's easy to get lost in a crowd, bodies moving in darkness, and she quickly gives not one man permission, but two, and they don't even bother to leave the floor before they start tearing at her clothes. No one notices when he skirt is pushed up, her her panties pressed aside in the middle of the dark room, and she's thankful for her heels to give her height when her legs are pulled apart. She's left resting against the first man's hips as he pushes into her center, thrusting harshly as the second man clutches her hair, pushing himself up into her rear. She shouts from the shock of it, but no one hears, lost in music and strobe lights. The fuck her in tandem to the beat of it. She expects someone to notice, but no one does, bodies pressing against them as they move in unison. The first man kisses at her neck as she pulls at his hair, and the second works at her shoulder. It's not long before she's shuddering with release, and they leave her shortly, dripping and exhausted on the floor. She barely manages to drag herself home and into her bath, but the sleep she falls into is long and deep.

It's only when she's at home, left to touch herself, that she processes any of it. At times, it leaves her choked with tears, the aching quiet of her room nearly swallowing her. But she forces the thoughts of loneliness away in favor of staring at her ceiling. She can survive. She has to. And she will. She's experienced too much, but she's not nearly done. She rarely sleeps at night anymore, not without aid. But it doesn't seem to matter.

Not until Simon finds her.

And everything changes.