Title: The Psychiatrist
Word Count: 13,221
Rating: M
Summary: . "How can I not destroy you?" astonishment slithered into his voice. "I love you so." His confession made her heart churn.
Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.
"In the past decade, Pandora Psychiatry Association has taken part in several experiments trying to evaluate the nature of the vampire community. Due to the small pool of selection in our hands, we have not been able to come to any conclusion about sociopathic behaviour in the species. Despite this setback, our team of psychiatrists have observed a difference in the psyche of the subjects. Subjectively speaking, the mind of a vampire is comparable to that of a human. Their enhanced senses are a product of awakening dormant brain cells after their change takes place. This enhancement of external senses and mental faculties do not hinder them from forming a conscience, and it is quite possible that any behavioural change in a specimen can be a product of mental illness: be it borne from their human lives or a product of their violent change. Therefore, it is not ideal to pronounce all vampires as a hazard to human society. Since we are incapable of giving the masses a concrete answer, we would like to assure the you all that we are taking action and trying to contain the vampire population so that you can live in peace. As a member of the board of Pandora Psychiatry Association, I will, in behalf of my colleagues reassure you of your safety. We will not stop until we can present an indisputable answer to the public."
He concluded his speech and then stepped down from the podium.
"Mr. Black will not be taking any questions," his secretary said. She followed him out, handing him his cell phone and filling him in on his meetings. Mr. Black looked around the room, trying to spot the woman who had helped him achieve the goals he had set for himself, and made him aspire for more. He gave her a slight nod when he spotted her.
She was leaning against the wall at the end of the room. The cameras and journalists were still focused on the chairman of PPA, and paid no mind to the mysterious doctor who had built the project with her own hands.
She had a smile on her lips as she pushed off the wall. She brushed her hands on her skirt, trying to smoothen out invisible wrinkles, a habit she had acquired over years of questioning serial killers.
Make them feel superior and comfortable, was her motto. Any signs of fidgeting on her part, helped her strengthen her position in front of the murderers.
She turned around and pushed the door open. A rush of warm air struck her; she ignored it and the accompanying high pitched sound of the door closing behind her. She oozed power as she ploughed forward. People moved around her, giving her enough space to move freely. None of them met her eyes in fear.
Oddly, whoever dared to look into her eyes was always stared back at. A few seconds of her gaze could make one want to bend down on their knees and confess all their sins to her.
She was a dangerous creature, Dr. Isabella Swan. They say she reads minds and compels people to confess to things they never did.
One should not be fooled by the beauty of her face; she was a force to be reckoned with. Truly, no other woman could torment a mind as her.
The guards simply nodded, their head downcast as she strode past them without a glance back. She had walked ten miles to reach the facility. Her heels scrunched against the gravel, her muscles strained as she pushed forward. In her mind, she felt no pain, but she did not deny the poor state of her body.
For years she had tried to enhance her body into that of a vampire; build resilience that would make the horrid species trembled on their feet.
They knew nothing of her body, they only knew that they could not escape her.
As she entered the stale hallway, she heard the angry shouts and the screeches. Sometimes, the specimen did not want to cooperate. She knew how to handle them.
"Dr. Swan," she heard someone say. She waited for the person to catch up to her. There was no time for tardiness when the experiments were plotting a thousand ways to escape that very second. The breathless intern found himself running alongside her, trying to keep up with her pace. "Dr. Swan," he gasped again. This time, she gave him a slight dip of her chin to acknowledge him.
"Specimen 49874 tried to escape again," he began. Dr. Swan stopped mid stride and then gave him a hard look.
"Is this not her fourth try this month?" she cocked her brow, feeling particularly irritated with the intern. "49874 is known for her unstable nature." Her voice was calculative. "When did she last go through the cycle? Who is her current attendant?" The intern looked down at his hands, almost apologetic.
"I was not privy to that information, ma'a-" she did not let him finish. She raised one finger, stopping him from rambling.
"Seek me out within the next hour to give me the information," she commanded. She didn't wait for any indication of understanding. "Also, be quick about it," she said simply, walking away. "I'm sure that 49874 will spare you next time."
The intern stood, shell shocked at the image that had been painted in his mind. Grey matter sprayed on whitewashed walls, blood trickling down the vampire's chin as she purred happily and licked her hands clean. He had seen it happen before; had it not been only a week since the intern who had started with him had fallen prey to the wiles of 49874?
His body came to motion, again. He frantically ran, to where he did not know, but he did. He knew that by the end of the hour, he had to produce the information Dr. Swan had demanded.
A miasma of stale fear and poison hung in the air. Dr. Swan stepped inside the confinement cell. It was decorated with handmade goods. A lamp made from woven paper was placed in a corner. Strange pieces of cloth were sewn together to form an unconventional bed sheet. Every surface of the room was covered in a variety of paintings, some abstract, others poignantly lifelike. One, in particular, seemed to look like her face. It was as if the painter had clicked a picture of her person and matted the colours together to revisit her countenance at leisure. She stared, absently at the color in her cheeks, and then looked away.
"Do you like the illustration?" the woman chimed, her hands still filthy from painting. Her fingers were dotted with colours, her hair stuck at places.
"Miss Hale, you are quite talented with your hands," the good doctor commented, pleased that she could contribute to the artistic genius of her patient. "I am afraid that we will have you move you from this room," she said with a slight smile. The other protested, futilely.
"You must understand that we recognize your purpose. You were born to be an artist and you are not a threat to our society, so, from henceforth, you shall be silently observed." Her words were final.
"You speak of me as though you are freeing me. I understand that you find me harmless, but I am quite in love with this room. Don't make me leave it, Dr. Swan," she pleaded. Dr. Swan felt her composure thaw.
Rosalie Hale was the image of perfection. There was no hunger in her. She craved all things that were related to art. She spoke freely and humoured the good doctor whenever she was in a good mood—which was often.
"Do you mean to say that I will not be able to see you as well?" she clucked her tongue, and then sighed as if she were grieving from a great loss. "I will miss your soured expression in the morning. I do love the smell of bread and nutella," she commented, lost in thought. "What does it taste like?" she wondered idly.
"That is a conversation we shall have on a later date, Miss Hale."
Dr. Swan gave the room one last glance before moving out. As she travelled down the hallway, she heard Rosalie Hale singing songs of hope and redemption.
"Specimen 49874 is under Dr. Martin, ma'am," the intern informed her hurriedly. "She went through the cycle three weeks ago. She was kept in isolation so that she would not come across any of the male patients in the facility."
"Who gave the orders?" she asked, her brows drawing together in concentration.
"It was under Dr. Martin's supervision that she was prescribed to isolated therapy, ma'am."
"And what was the purpose of this practice?" she ground out, angry that her irresponsible colleague had led her to lose a valuable member of the staff.
"He wanted to inculcate the virtue of patience and abstinence in her. His notes indicate that it was an experiment that he was interested in and was sure to bring out the true self of the patient." The intern himself looked displeased. He knew that there was something wrong with the diagnosis and the assumption that torturing a female vampire in heat would lead to accessing more information on the working's of her mind.
"Could you please inform Dr. Martin that I would like to schedule a meeting with him as soon as possible? Also, please make sure that 49874 is in her cell two hours from now. I would like to speak to her personally." The intern gave a slight nod and then left the office without uttering another word.
49874 hated her confinement cell. As was expected from her, she pushed against the walls, making them rattle. The walls were weakening with each try, she knew, and within a few more days they would give away to her strength, finally freeing her.
She growled playfully as she began scratching the surface of the wall. Her claws needed sharpening. She could imagine sinking them into her male when she finally got him under her. She tried to conjure the image of him in her mind: ruthlessly polite, a wicked mind and hair that she could tear from his scalp. She knew just the man.
The metal door behind her groaned as it opened. She didn't smell the air or listen to the disruptive sound of footsteps that invaded her private space. She cared little about the perverted old man that tried to force her into reacting. He had tried to seduce her when she was in the heat cycle and she had wanted to rip his head from his torso and hang it on the wall as a souvenir.
"I have been informed that you refused to take your supplements this morning, miss." Her head snapped towards the direction of the voice.
"We finally meet, Isabella," she whispered, delighted. "I hear stories about your prowess." Her voice was filled with awe. She had often heard the psychiatrists and nurses talk about the formidable woman. She had heard stories that had made her gasp in appreciation. "I hear whispers in the hallway, you know," she said, slowly moving towards the woman, trying to get a closer look at her. "They say you broke Colin in. He must have been a difficult one. Did his silence raise your ire? Everyone knows that he cannot speak. How did you do it then? I hear rumors," she said again, awe filling her voice.
Isabella smiled, pleased to find a subject so open and passionate. She could understand why her colleague would think that the exuberant vampire was unstable.
"A magician never reveals her secret," she said, winking conspiratorially at the vampire. "You never answered me, 4987-"
"Oh, please. Don't be so formal with me. My name is Alice," she interjected.
"Well, Alice, tell me why you skipped your supplements and then continued on to try and break out." Her voice was soothing, but this seemed to anger the vampire. In an instant, the fiery red irises turned black and she sneered.
"Go ask that filthy little pervert!" she hissed.
"I will be apologizing on his behalf," the psychiatrist assured, gently. "One of my other colleagues will take up his duties." With that she ended her little apology.
"It won't help," the vampire grumbled almost incoherently. Isabella stifled a smile as she moved closer to the vampire.
"This facility does not want to deprive you of what you need, Alice."
"But it is-" she protested vehemently.
"Not anymore."
She turned around and left the room, the metal door left wide open. Alice stood, shocked for a moment, unable to understand. She then took small, slow steps towards the door. She crossed the threshold and looked around. There was not a single person in the corridor. It was as if it had been evacuated. She kept her hand on the walls, checking the locks on the door. Her hands stopped on a particular door that seemed to creak when she pressed her palm on it.
She pressed harder. The door opened. Inside the well lit room was a bed.
Wicked eyes stared back at her. His lips curled over his teeth in appreciation.
"Hello, there," he said, his voice teasing her senses. "How may I help you?" he asked, amusement coloring his voice. "What do you need?"
"You."
She held on to his golden locks and pressed her lips against his. She smiled to herself as she realized that the psychiatrist had seen through her. She tipped her head towards the direction she knew the camera was situated and then went back to the vampire who earnestly held on to her and let her have her wicked way with him.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The lights came on, blinding her momentarily. She had sensitive eyes; the sun hurt her on some days, and on others it made her break out in cold sweat. She sighed as she placed her keys and wallet on the small table near the entrance. Her shoes were placed clinically on the rack; the coat she kept in her office was slid off her shoulders and placed on the coat rack at the end of the hallway. She then tip toed into the house, merely out of habit, and glanced around to see if anyone was there.
Paranoia, she had learned, was her nemesis. She remembered the therapist she went to in her teenage years advising her to stop over thinking. The woman had come with brilliant recommendations, but had fallen flat when she had refused to acknowledge her fears. Studying to be a psychiatrist herself, she had been stupefied by the manner in which the therapist had spoken to her.
She had reasoned and decided that René Descartes had been right in pointing out, "cogito ergo sum"—I think, therefore I am.
She could not imagine why a person would exist without having their mental faculties open for consideration. She knew that the mind was made to think and contemplate. The idle mind would only attract further torment. She had thought the therapist was a fool, told her so, as well, and then walked out on her.
Life had been peaceful since that day. She had resorted to reading Freud and Lacan, obsessing over the family complex, gorging on words from the Interpretation of Dreams. She wrought with worry of dreams that made her head spin. In some dark corner in her mind, she tried to bury the memories of having her world torn to pieces, literally.
That is where her love for the id, ego and superego had developed. She had analyzed her own mind, using Sigmund Freud's methods to analyze what her unconscious mind was trying to project through warped dreams. As years passed, she came to face her fears; she never overcame them, only tried to suppress them. Somewhere down the line, the dreams became unbearable. She became unable to sleep, insomnia weakening her body the first few weeks. But then clarity prevailed. It was as if a new chamber in her mind had opened up. She could take in information and compartmentalize them in her brain. She could look through them at will and use them for her benefit at any given point of time.
As the vampires started exposing themselves to the public, it became exceedingly difficult for the common people to concentrate on their daily tasks without fearing for their lives. Isabella, having faced the misfortune of gaining the attention of a vampire herself, understood the underlying terror that came with acknowledging the existence of such humanoid creatures that were devoid of emotion and filled with monstrous energy.
The churches pronounced them to have emerged from the pits of Hell. They waited for the day of judgement and the revelation. Cults all across the world were formed overnight: some seeked to desecrate the vampire population, while others tried to imitate their life style. It had been a horrible few months.
Isabella herself had been filled with loathing when she saw their faces everyday on the street. Crime rates went down, the economy flourished and all because a greater species had made their presence known on the planet.
However Isabella had rationalized that they were not greater species. As she lay staring at the ceiling she remembered bringing about the proposal in front of the notorious Paul Black who was known for his ruthless ventures in the field of psychiatry. She had presented a plan in front of him, one she was determined to look through herself. She had plotted the capture and wilful subjugation of the species. She had plans of getting together a team of professionals who would be open to explore the mind of a mysterious creature that shook the very foundation of humanity; a species that sucked out the hope from the hearts of the homo-sapiens.
After decades of isolated research, the association deemed that more funds should be invested in the cause. Concerned governments from all over the world contributed handsomely for it. The best raw materials were used for the walls and the best specialists were brought in. The employees were trained in combat and disaster management, and bonds were signed before anyone even dared to step inside the premises.
Dr. Swan considered her body and mind property of the association, so she built it to its best. She perfected everything around her; she protected herself at all costs. She had no intention of leaving behind the large mansion and the thirty feet high walls she had built around the place to protect herself.
Yes, she was paranoid by nature, and she had no intentions of changing any of it. It only gave her clarity about a situation and taught her to expect the worst in everything. These dysfunctions of her psyche turned her into the perfect candidate to lead the experiment run by PPA.
As she observed the vampires coexist, she came up with her own theory. It was an extension of Freud's idea of the personality, but only, in this case it was for the vampire. She theorized that the three levels of the mind: the id, ego and the superego, were in fact present in the species. The id, inherited or acquired at birth, or to simply put it: the instinct of a creature was extremely strong in the species. Whereas, the ego or the conscious mind, which subdues the uncontrollable nature of the id was lower than needed. Despite of the ego being highly developed, the aggressive nature of their instincts made them a slave to their blood lust. It seemed that through practice, a vampire could subdue their instinct and control their temperament.
Last but not the least, she propounded that there was a lack of the superego in the species. The superego is the mental construct that ties a species with its own society. Bonds such as familial ones and ones made out of friendship are part of it. The vampires, though, kept themselves free from relationships that had the potential to hold them down. They did take mates, which could in some way be concerned with the expression of the superego.
For the continuation of the species, mating was necessary; therefore it could also be considered as the instinctual ritualistic behaviour of the species.
What scared her most was the fact that she knew what she was seeking was a psychopath: a monster among monsters. She had created in her mind, a sociopath or psychopath vampire was stripped from their superego. As the presence of the conscious thought would exceed the instincts of the vampires, these creatures would be the cause of mass destruction.
They would not be bound by simple acts of feeding and fulfilling sexual needs, but they would develop gluttony. As they say, the idle mind is the devil's workshop. A vampire's mind is always—in one way or another, idle.
As she stared at the ceiling, she reminded herself of the dark days when screams were all she heard, and she had been at the receiving end of the very same idle mind. There had been no remains to mark the memory, just a scarred mind and an empty mansion where she locked herself.
49874, or Alice, as she liked to be called, rather enjoyed her time with the mysterious doctor Swan. She tried, futilely, to gauge the reaction of the human, and to school her own that she gave nothing away. In her mind, she admitted to fearing the good doctor. The vampire most certainly found the piercing eyes of the doctor intimidating. They were, no doubt, the most fearless eyes she had seen, yet she sometimes wondered why the doctor was so different from the other employees of the institution.
Was it her position that led her to behave in such a distant, yet polite manner? Or was it her natural persona. It was ironic that the term in its Latin roots meant pretence. She sometimes found herself laughing at it inside her head in her spare time.
The good doctor, though, never deterred from her goal: she wanted to explore every crevice of the patient's mind, and she was fiercely good at it. She asked the most cunning questions that made the vampire stop and think, and those pauses, the vampire realized, were enough to give her a few answers about the vampire.
Her answers were not written down, the doctor kept a little recorder with her at all times, just because she didn't want to be distracted from what the patient was saying, and she had an excellent memory.
As the weeks passed, Alice found herself extremely attracted to the doctor—not in a sexual way, but... one could call it a mental connection. The perceptive doctor always left room for basic and simpler things in life, and believed that the self was the best psychoanalyst. It was a difficult concept to grasp for Alice because she had never been fond of philosophy or psychology, but on a rare occasion when she did not feel like talking, Dr. Swan had volunteered information and told her about the things she had read, what she had understood and what she criticized about them.
It had been a fascinating hour, Alice recalled.
Today, inside the confines of the room, Alice sat quietly, comfortable with the silence. Dr. Swan sat across from her, and silently and swiftly wrote in the notepad she had produced from her black file.
Suddenly, her phone went off, and Alice leaned closer in excitement. It was known that whenever the doctor's phone rang, there was something horrendous about to happen, or it already had. She had never heard any rumors of it happening before.
Dr. Swan did not look stunned, as always. She pressed the phone to her ears and answered it with an air of authority. She concentrated on what the other person was saying, there was not a single hint on her face.
"Ask Dr. Molina to wait for me in my office."
"I don't care about her opinion in this. As her superior, I demand that she meets me." Her fingers pressed the little red button and then she looked at the vampire with a somewhat apologetic expression.
"I will have to cut this meeting short, I am afraid." She tipped her head as Alice waved off her apology. She then turned and left the room. For the first time, the patient saw a crack in the doctor's mask. She saw the doctor's jaws clench as she walked out of the door.
"Dr. Molina, I assure you that you will not be killed." Isabella's firm voice almost shook the younger psychiatrist out of her fearful stupor. She trembled in her seat with a faraway look in her eyes. "Dr. Molina!" Dr. Swan exclaimed, trying to get her attention.
The woman's eyes widened as she stared at her superior's face.
"Dr. Swan, I am so sorry. I ca-can't! He... he will kill me."
"Why do you think so?" she said, trying to soothe her.
"Because I know!" she whispered, frantically. "Please," she whimpered. "Don't let him get near me," she begged. Dr. Swan sighed and then got up from her seat.
"I think it would be better if you took a vacation, Dr. Molina. I can see that you are shaken, and I promise you that I will look into the matter."
"Thank you," the woman stuttered, trying to stand up on her feet, shakily. "Thank you," she said again, before leaving the psychiatrist in the silence of her room.
As disturbing as it was, it was the third psychiatrist to quit in the past few weeks, and all because of one specimen. The man—Edward, which the other vampires said was his name, had driven two other doctors to quit. She was not only curious, but a tad bit irritated with this particular specimen.
She decided that she would go through all the footages taken during his sessions and within the confines of his room. She logged into the database and then extracted all the files that she could find on the man.
It was a delightful project. Suddenly, she had found something worth digging, again.
The following night, she stared at the image of a man within a wide room sitting in a corner with his head tucked inside a book. He only moved to change the page. He showed no signs of distress in being captivated, and he looked positively happy with how things had turned out. He didn't pace like the other vampires; neither did he look up nervously at the camera. It was rather fascinating to watch.
Next, she saw footages of the sessions with the psychiatrists. The two before Dr. Molina, were male. They received no threatening words from the male vampire. He just sat there with a wide, albeit creepy, smile on his face. The grown men later gossiped about how they felt their hearts in their mouth when they were in the same room as that "creature."
They simply quit because they felt as if he knew everything about them. He instilled fear in them like they had never felt before.
Isabella noticed the specimen closely. His eyes shifted slightly a few milliseconds before the men would stop breathing. They would shake their heads within seconds of the contact. A smile spread on her lips when she realized that the vampire was an expert in the art of controlling minds.
As she sieved through the videos, she finally reached the ones where Dr. Molina appeared. At first, it seemed as though Dr. Molina was stronger than the other two. He did not speak to her; neither did his eyes shift as often as they did while he was with the other two. Isabella did notice the gleam in the vampire's eyes, though.
After four excruciating sessions, Dr. Molina attempted to talk to the vampire, push him into answering some of her questions. That was the moment everything changed.
"Why won't you talk to us?" she asked calmly, her pen poised over her open notepad.
"I do not endeavour to offend you, madam, but I find you rather unacceptable." His confession seemed to take the psychiatrist of guard. Isabella found herself scrunching her brows, trying to comprehend what he meant by that. She soon realized what he meant.
"You are not close to God, I understand. You have not been to church in a while," he clucked his tongue, as if disappointed.
So, that is what he was playing at! Isabella thought, triumphantly, as she figured out his plan.
"I would like a woman of virtue," he stated. "I can smell the filth on you... Tell me, who was it last night: the blond from the bar that grabbed your ass? Or was it the blue eyed woman that you wanted so badly?" He licked his lips, his eyes filled with mirth. "Both?" he gasped. "Oh, you little whore. You didn't!" he chuckled. "Was this why your father kicked you to the streets when he found out?" he cooed.
Isabella's eyes widened fractionally. She had not expected him to unravel her past as clearly as he had been doing.
"This does not pertain to the question I asked you," she said, grinding her teeth together in frustration. Hints of fear dotted her features.
"Oh, but it does," he insisted with unbounded glee. "I was going to tell you how to remedy your depravity. I could forget about your transgressions and talk to you," he insisted. His urgent eyes were bound to make the person in front of him believe that he was sincere.
"What do you think is the remedy?" she asked, her voice tight.
"You need to be closer to nature. To shed the effects of the sin that Eve committed. You must lose the effects of the fruit of knowledge. You must let go of your disobedience," he murmured. Dr. Molina looked enraptured by his words.
It was only then that Isabella realized that the vampire's eyes had shifted.
"Shed your clothes, human. Embrace the Lord as he made you. He made you in his image, and you bore the boon of immortality, but your disobedience snatched it from you. Return to the Lord and he shall forgive you. He is but a just God." His voice was lulling, and if Isabella hadn't known better, she would have thought that the vampire was deeply religious, or simply a religious fanatic.
She understood the situation as it was. She could see that the vampire was trying to fool them into thinking that the problem lied with his religious fanaticism. He was far more complex than that, a truly good player at the game of deception.
As she shifted her focus back to the video, she saw Dr. Molina reach for the buttons of her blouse. Isabella felt a laugh bubble at her lips as she noticed the wicked expression on the vampires face.
Edward, she chanted his name in her mind, interest gripping her further. What a wonderful creature he is.
She noticed that the front of Dr. Molina's blouse was mostly undone. She waited, patiently, anticipating what came next and then snorted.
The vampire blinked. So did Dr. Molina. She took a few moments to collect herself. The psychiatrist followed the vampire's eyes, who Isabella knew had stared at the direction of the partially covered body with the intention of mortifying the psychiatrist. And his plan worked flawlessly.
Dr. Molina gasped as she shot off from her seat and then turned to fasten the buttons.
Isabella heard the vampire's booming laughter and a jumble of unintelligible words. The psychiatrist turned to look at the vampire, a look of horror crossing her eyes and then ran towards the closed door. Isabella watched in shock as the usually composed Dr. Molina, banged her small fists against the locked door. It took a few seconds before the door opened and she flew out of the room without a second thought.
It made Isabella wonder exactly what the vampire—Edward, had told her fellow psychiatrist. She couldn't remember being that excited, ever.
The next morning, she decided, she would meet the infamous specimen who had scared not one, but three of her colleagues.
A smile spread across her lips and remained as she stared at the ceiling.
Unable to contain her excitement, Dr. Swan shot up from her bed towards the bathroom. She took a quick shower, after which she tied her wet hair with her handy pencil.
For the first time, she dressed in haste. The bubble of excitement threatened to explode inside her. She took her car. The night shift guards opened the door only when she showed her identification. In their defence, they had never seen her drive to the premises.
She stopped in front of his room. The guards stationed outside were blissfully asleep. She typed in the code to the door. She opened the door slowly, so that she would not wake the sleeping men.
The vampire stood behind the door, his eyes alight with mischief. They stared at each other for a long moment, taking in the other's presence, drinking in their scent. It was a phenomenal moment: the moment where two powerful beings acknowledged the power of the other. They danced to the silent tune, their eyes flitting across the other's face, gauging their body language.
He moved a step one when she took one forward. They mirrored the other's movements to the T.
The door behind her was still open. Isabella knew well that he had no intention of leaving; he loved playing with the people at the facility.
He waved his hand towards the little desk inside the room. Isabella saw that he had placed two chairs on either side of the table. She walked over to one, letting him be the gentleman he was bred to be centuries ago. She could see the curiosity in his eyes. Not once did his eyes move towards the open door. Isabella couldn't help but be impressed with his restraint.
He took the seat in front of her, his expression turning sour. His eyes dilated, marking the beginning of the mental onslaught. Realizing the cause of his sour mood, Isabella fought a smile.
Silence thickened inside the room after that. Not even the sound of the psychiatrist's even breathing could be heard.
She didn't know how long she sat there. She could imagine the vampire counting the seconds, minutes, hours... days. The only thing that reminded her of the time was the cautious guard and interns reminding her of her meetings. She cancelled them all without speaking a word. They all knew the serious look she gave them.
Eventually, they stopped reminding her of the meetings. She sat as still as the vampire. It made him wonder how it was possible for a human to go without food for that long. He could sense the difference in her. Resolve did not come easily to her kind, but he refused to think that she had the patience and the strength to control her bodily functions as she did. He thought of alternative explanations. Surely, such a girl could not be invincible; she could not hide from his probing mind for too long.
She, on the other hand, schooled her mind to remain blank. At first she tried to recollect the week's grocery list, then the expenses, then her bank statement. At one point in time, her mind numbed, losing all thoughts, altogether. She followed his eyes, though, whenever he moved them. He stopped trying to manipulate her after the first day, she estimated. It was day three, she couldn't be certain. She had never gone without her human needs for longer. Soon her body would start acting out, but she refused to bow down to the vampire's mind games. She had maintained a level ground with him that far, she would not give up so easily.
She heard soft footsteps. She tried hard to ignore them. She almost twitched, her body slowly starting to fail her.
"Dr. Swan, 49874 is going into heat." The words made her jaws clench.
"I will be attending to her shortly," she said in a dismissive manner. She felt anything but. She knew that Alice would turn aggressive this time around, and Isabella had promised her to help her through the process unlike her previous psychiatrist.
"She has started nesting and will not let anyone near her." The fear was evident in the person's voice. She faintly recognized it. She remembered the flustered intern assigned to Alice.
"I will be attending to her shortly," she repeated. She heard him shuffle away, trying to get out as fast as possible. The vampire's eyes blazed. His eyes for the first time looked away from her face. He looked positively furious. His body stiffened, prepared to pounce at the retreating intern.
She watched him closely, smugly noting that the news of her absence had lighted discontent in his mind. It was unethical for her to enjoy seeing him like that. She was not supposed to make the patient dependent on her, but she revelled in the attention he was lavishing on her. She felt empowered that she was the only one who could rein him in.
For now, she reminded herself.
"Oh, my little nun, duty calls?" His voice cut through the silence. She had not expected him to speak out in irritation, but she chalked it up to his need to goad her.
"You should try harder next time," she teased, her voice barely concealing her amusement. The vampire saw it in her eyes, though—the delight.
"Hey!" he called when she turned to leave.
She turned around abruptly.
"Wait!" he exclaimed as she started walking away, his voice: a warning.
"I've got a new complaint... Forever in debt to your priceless advice," he crooned.
In a distance, she heard his voice again. She clenched her hands into fists as she listened to him sing.
"I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black."
Alice's heat didn't break easily. The vampire had opted for contraceptives as she had no desire of reproducing. But at the rate her heat was progressing, Isabella feared that the medication would wear off soon. She was worried about the outcome. She might have treated the subjects with care, but she did not intend to let them reproduce and strengthen numbers.
The vampire doctor, Carlisle Cullen, was sure that no one would be able to make her take the next dose of the medication. He said that she is unstable and tear anyone apart if they try to come close to her. Isabella had fought with the doctor, but she knew that a female vampire in heat had let go of all her mental restraints; Alice functioned on her instincts alone.
"There has to be a way," she ground out, frustrated that the doctor was not cooperating with her demands.
There has to be a way!
The doctor, though, looked as if he was deep in thought. A dangerous thought bloomed in his mind. Isabella could see it by merely looking into his eyes.
"How sure are you about your control over the patients, Dr. Swan?" The question threw her off. She felt belittled by the comment, but she could see that the doctor was merely curious.
"Very," she said coolly, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"What are your thoughts on Edward?" he asked, a small smile playing across his lips. "He can control minds; you could use him to calm the mates down and inject the medication into the female." He said it as though he were stating a fact.
"How do you know of this?" she growled. "You are not privy to classified information, Dr. Cullen."
He laughed in reply.
"I created the boy, Doctor. He is my favourite creation," he sounded almost saddened by the statement. The smile was still plastered on his face, though.
Isabella's eyes widened for a fraction of a second.
"And you did not think it necessary to inform the authority that you were related to a specimen?" the harshness of her tone made the vampire flinch. "Do you realize that your association with the most dangerous of the lot makes you eligible to be locked up inside the facility as well?" she hissed.
"I am quite aware of the implications, Dr. Swan. If you ask him, he will let you know that I am not his creator."
"Ah, so he regrets you?" she asked, somewhat amused by the story. She knew that it was common for some changed vampires to resent their creator.
"No." He caught the look she was giving him. "No, I don't regret changing him either. He is a delightful creature, but I never thought that he would acquire so much power on changing."
"What powers?" she inquired.
"You will find out eventually. He is a master of the mind, mind you. Do not think that he is as easily understood as the others. If your research about vampires only had him as the source of information, you would hide in your homes and pray that the demon would not come out to hunt you down."
"He is evil, then?"
"Not to himself, no. He merely thinks of the world in a different light. He is your regular sociopath, just enhanced and much more charming than any human you have ever met."
"This commentary on his character will not influence my reading of him, I assure you. If he is any of the things you accuse him to be, I will surely find out on my own," she promised, getting up from her seat. She heard him sigh softly.
"I just hope that you survive it," he mumbled under his breath.
She clenched her jaws as she walked towards his room. She remembered his piercing eyes and the wickedness of his words. It sent a jolt of awareness down her spine. She took a deep breath before opening the door, wide open.
Just like the last time, she found him standing behind it, greeting her with a smile on his face. She decided to smile back.
"It seems as though your powers are needed," she informed him. She turned around, sparing him a glance over her shoulder and beckoned him to follow her.
"Do you believe in soul mates, my little nun?" he said suddenly. After fifteen minutes of silence, his words sounded too loud.
"No, I don't," Dr. Swan replied, hoping that it would be enough to make him talk.
"I don't either," he said thoughtfully. "Vampires are instinctively attracted to their mates, did you know that?" he spared her a glance. "Look at Alice and her mate, though. They seem like they are meant to be, don't they?" It sounded like the beginning of a confession.
"Over the years, I felt the same craving as they do." He seemed to face a loss for words. "It is not sexual," he began, his brows scrunched. "Far from it, really."
"Isn't mating primarily a sexual ritual?" she prompted.
"Of course, it is part of it, but there must be a higher understanding of your mate, too. Numerous times, I have thought that I found my mate. They cannot stand my strength. They were never compatible to me. They must not have been my mate."
"Where did you encounter them?"
"At different places."
She waited patiently.
"They offered themselves to me, but they could never withstand it," he whispered.
"What could they not withstand?"
"My love," he said, his eyes boring into hers.
"Love?" she asked. "Define love."
"The Oxford dictionary would define love as a strong feeling of affection and sexual attraction for someone."
"And what do you think it is?" He shrugged. Dr. Swan managed to keep the impassive expression on her face.
"I can't define love," he scoffed.
"Why not?" she inquired.
"The politics of language is very problematic in nature. What we think we are saying is not what the listener thinks of when he hears my words. One cannot express their feelings in petty words," he hissed, passion rolling off him.
"You feel passionately about this?" She prodded.
"Yes, I do. I don't know how many people have wanted to me talk about how I feel. That monster—Carlisle Cullen, he was no different. I hate the man. I thought he was a despicable creature for ruining my life." He snorted. "He created a monster. I hope he regrets every moment of it."
"You think he turned you into an emotionless creature?"
"Far from it, his venom has filled me with so many emotions that it is too painful for me to not share it with others."
"And you share them by killing people?"
"Of course," he said, as if it was the most natural conclusion. "Some most die at the throes of passion. Others must suffer the same fright I feel at certain nights. I love the guilt in their eyes, too. It is usually the guilt ridden Christians. I do love them, my little nun."
"You can only experience the true emotions of a person when they take their last breath. In those few moments, they reflect on their light and fear the judgement day. You can see them thinking of all their sins by the flash of their eyes. It is probably the most emotionally highest moment in a person's life."
"And it is a gift?"
"Death is a gift. It rids you of pain, and it is painless. It is in life that you suffer."
"But what about while you are dying?" He shakes his head, trying to stop her.
"Death is painless. You can never die in your lifetime. You are dead when you are not alive. While you are suffering, you are still alive."
"Hence you ended the suffering of those you loved?" He shrugged.
"What happened to them?" she asked, after some time. "Why were they suffering? How did you show them your love? " The word came out as a whisper. To think that the vampire could feel such an emotion was preposterous, but had she not theorized of the hyper activeness of a sociopath vampire's ego?
Was it his awareness of these overwhelming feelings the root cause of his natural behaviour? He had told so himself.
Suddenly, the words Dr. Cullen had spoken, made sense to her. She shook it away.
"I shared my thoughts with them; my past, the fondest and most horrifying memories. I wanted to know all about her."
"I presume it was not how a human lover would get to know their lady love?" She bit her tongue when she almost said the word 'normal.'
"Oh, my little nun, how less you know," he clucked his tongue. Isabella did not interrupt him. "A few very special vampires possess the power to breathe thoughts into a human's mind, and suck out their memories, as well. All it takes is a little bite." His voice was teasing, and his eyes gleamed with excitement as he spoke.
"So you can erase a memory from someone's mind and plant it in your head?" she asked, hesitant. "You can put your thoughts into their head, as well..." the realization unfolded slowly. It seeped into her brain. Her eyes widened as the shock of words stumbled out of her mouth.
"They couldn't handle centuries of memories." In a moment of perversion, she imagined what it would feel like—having all those memories jammed inside her conscious mind. She wondered if she would survive it.
"If you wish, I could pick the poison from your mind and rid you of all your pain," he whispered.
"Would you care to explain?" she asked, her voice professional, not letting him onto any of her thoughts.
"I wish to take care of you," he whispered, his voice filled with an odd sort of emotion. Some would classify it as awe.
"Take care of me?" she asked, taken aback.
"Yes. I want to end all your sufferings," he replied earnestly. He leaned forward, trying to go closer to her. She forced herself to keep her composure.
"Why?" she dug, succinctly.
"Because I love you."
All the records were lying in front of her. She had dug out all the files that even she—the head of the facility, was not allowed to look at. It had taken some serious influencing on her part to get the members of the board to establish that she was indeed close to getting all the answers to the questions that the public wanted.
What she saw left her with a sense of completion. It was a work of art.
She could see the canopy of the bed in each image. The shots showed the most beautiful women on crimson sheets that the psychiatrist could imagine would feel lovely against their skin. Their hair spread over their head like a halo, and their lids open. She looked closer, fascinated with the details. Thin trails of veins lined the eyes of the women. The white part of their eyes had turned black due to the rupturing of vessels.
"I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black."
An involuntary shiver ran down her spine.
She grabbed the images and shoved them inside the folder; she stared at the ceiling and let the questions form in her head.
"You have made it pretty clear that you are close to the Divine. Do you think that your powers are linked to what He has in store for you?" her question was genuine. It was a ploy to let him know that she knew that he was not a religious fanatic.
"I believe it pertains to the genetic composition of a vampire and not on God's will," he said, fully understanding the duality of the question. "I know what your next question will be, so, I will answer you anyway." He shook his head with a smile on his lips. "My biological parents in no manner contained any genetic material that evolved when I changed. Such powers are usually exhibited in changed vampires, but no one really knows the origin of it."
"Does that mean Dr. Cu-"
"Yes. The creator does not use his powers any longer, though. He has transcended beyond that, the condescending bastard," he snorted, looking away.
"Do you not have any further questions?" he asked after a few moments of silent amusement.
"You said in our last session that you are in love with me." He merely nodded. "Why do you think so?" she ground out.
"There is no need to fear me, my little nun," he goaded. "I lied when I said that I did not feel lust." He looked up at her from under his lashes. "I do feel the need to possess your body. Completely, if I might add."
"Tell me about what you meant when you wanted to erase my suffering." She tried to change the subject.
"Have you ever wondered why I call you that—my little nun? It was generated from my fantasy." He got lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly, his eyes snapped towards her. "The moment you entered the room, I pictured you in the clothes of a nun, praying in the church, cleaning up the dried flowers from the Mass a few days past." He paused to check her reaction.
She offered him none.
"I could imagine coming up from behind you and softly kissing the nape of your neck. You would push me away, I am sure, but I would smell the aroma of your arousal. I fantasized that I would not be able to contain myself, that I would push you back against the Sanctum Sanctorum and explore your body as you writhed under me... fought me." He ran his hands through his hair, tousling them further.
"I would reach for the little black book, place it in front of you and make you read from it as I teased you with my cock. You would love it.
"I would hear you read the passages where God created the earth, your voice hoarse, gasps spilling out and mingling with your moans as you skip words. I would punish you gently, teasing you until you stopped reading altogether. And then I would push inside you and fuck you until you forgot that you were a bride of Jesus." His laugh sounded natural. He was finally freeing himself.
Isabella was delighted to see this side of him. She felt a prickling excitement in her stomach that she refused to acknowledge.
"I would keep fucking you until you screamed for mercy. I would not stop. I would never stop. I don't think I could." His eyes were soft as he said it. He closed the gap between them, his hands inching towards her face. Suddenly, he drew back, his eyes boring into hers.
"How long do you have until your heat takes effect?" Isabella shot up from her seat instantly.
Her eyes blazed with fury.
"How?" she demanded.
"You have done a great job of hiding your parentage, but I can recognize the tone of the family you belong to. I have known you for a long time, my little nun." She waited for him to answer. "There is no use hiding from me," he sighed, mocking her. "I knew your father. I chanced upon him one night. I was extremely hungry and in need of some turbulent thoughts to keep me occupied. Sensing a vampire, I pounced on him and fed on his memories."
"Don't leave!" he commanded, when he saw her move towards the door. "I am tired of watching you leave!" his demand shook her. The violence that threatened to spill over made her unsure about her safety. He did love her.
"He loved your mother every second he spent with her. He loved you, too. When he raped your mother in front of you, he just wanted to teach you how depraved humans are. You might think it wrong, but to him, it was the perfect way."
"She died because of him," she whispered, the words forced and angry.
"She was weak. And you learned your lesson. You humans never appreciate it when someone helps you," he sneered. "Now leave," he ordered, his growl reverberating around the room. She turned on her heels and left.
That night she rubbed herself raw to his images. Orgasms that she had denied herself for years hit her like meteorites. She lay under them as they continued their onslaught. Her fingers moved on their own, working to the image of his face. She felt his fantasies blurring with hers.
In the wee hours of the morning, she found herself in the land of dreams, her hand still buried between her thighs.
She was well rested in the morning. She felt every brush of the silken sheets; her skin broke out in goosebumps every time. She stretched, feeling her muscles ripple under her skin. Shooting up, she ran to the bathroom, searching frantically for her medication.
It seemed that Edward Cullen had been right. Her heat was setting in.
Unknown to everyone that surrounded her, she was the product of an affair between a human and a vampire. If their relationship was consensual or not, Isabella did not know. She only knew that her mother used their generous fortunes to hide herself from the child's eyes. Isabella lost herself in the palace that her mother insisted on keeping her in, buying her copious amounts of books to keep her mind off the reality. Sometimes, her mother disappeared for days altogether; when she returned, she would be more distant than when she left.
That one day, when Isabella came home she found her mother lying on the ground and a man over her. When the man turned towards her, she recognized the man instantly. They looked eerily similar, it seemed as though she was just a female extension of him.
Her father had crimson irises and blood on his lips. Her mother looked dazed, drunk on some narcotic. She had yet to find out what it was that he had done to her.
Her monstrous father had gently walked towards her, patting her head and caressing her cheeks. Isabella had stood there, stock still, waiting for the blow.
He seemed like a polite man to her at first, but then again, she had not actually listened to much of what he had told her. He had probably told her that he would tie her up right across from where her mother was lying. He must have also told her that he would mount her mother like an animal and make her watch.
Isabella had closed her eyes, but she was met with screeches as she did. For every blink of her eyes, her mother had been punished. In time, she had fought to control her reflexes. She had forced her lids to stay open. The whole time, the monster had his eyes trained on her, a sadistic smile on his face.
"Learn!" he had screamed. She had been horrified when she had seen her mother orgasm almost continuously throughout the torture. She had sobbed and begged him to stop, but he hadn't. He had asked her to learn, and she had learned.
She had learned to not blink. She had learned to ignore pain and emotion. She had learned to stop breathing altogether and turn into the perfect figure: lifeless, and beautiful.
But once every six months, her body unlearned everything she had taught herself. It drew its power from her vampire DNA and induced a lust in her that left her curling into a ball and wanting to kill herself. She knew for a fact that it came nowhere close to what a full blooded or changed vampire went through during their mating cycle, but her body was too human to handle anything close to the insane torture.
She went into withdrawal for a week in preparation of it. This time, it had caught her off guard. It was not time for her heat to come, but it had.
She rummaged through her supplies to get her hands on the last bottle of the medicines she smuggled out of the facility for her personal purpose. The heat suppressant dulled the need to mate, rendered her infertile for the period, and made her feel human.
When she found the little bottle of blue pills, she gasped and gulped it down as fast as she could. She felt her stomach settle just a bit, but her skin grew more sensitive. Her normally brown eyes dilated and her forehead was perpetually covered in sweat.
She gulped down as many of those blue little bastards as she could and poured all the ice in her refrigerator into the bathtub. She immersed herself in it, letting the chill set into the bones. She hoped that it would be enough to lower her body temperature.
In her mind, she knew that it was time to leave for the facility, but the paranoid part of her forced her to think twice.
She decided finally, that she would have to go at any cost. She would take a small vacation to compose herself. She had to ride through it alone. She sobbed as she slipped on her clothes. She cringed with each step she took.
When she reached the facility, she called Mr. Black and informed him of her absence. As he did every six months, Mr. Black asked her what the cause was. Every time she told him that it was a family emergency. He never questioned her; he knew that she had no living family left.
As she was about to leave the facility after her long day, she decided to take the shorter route. She raced through the vampire cafeteria. Throngs of vampires moved out of her path to let her through. She was glad that it was that day of the week when she did not have to meet Edward. She was not prepared to handle him. She also knew that he would not be allowed to communicate with the other vampires—he was too dangerous for that.
It was then that she noticed that all except one blaspheming vampire had moved away from her. The red eyed demon grinned at her.
"My little nun is in heat," he cooed when she got into earshot. He brushed his hand against the tip of her finger. Her body jolted forward. He chuckled. "It seems that my little mate's body has recognized me." With narrowed eyes she moved past him. He kept up with her with ease. "Wait for me, Isabella," he ordered her.
"You are not supposed to be in this area," she turned, her face flushed, her eyes blazing.
Yes, he hissed in his mind.
Finally.
"Your dear friend and my beloved father, has allowed me to take a stroll of the premises this lovely afternoon. I am merely enjoying the privilege." His smug grin made her want to crush his face.
Her eyes almost widened at the internal outburst. She reigned in her anger and then whipped her phone out.
"Put specimen number 99725 back in his cell," she barked into the phone. She saw the guards filtering into the room. Dr. Cullen, too, entered the room.
As the guards surrounded Edward, he did not put up any resistance. As they were guiding him out of the room, he turned around abruptly with the most frightening smile on his face; it seemed as though he were sneering at the woman he loved.
"Tonight," came the ominous promise. The room, which was previously buzzing with excitement, was dead silent. The most resilient of the lot, looked at her, their eyes wide. They feared... for themselves, and for her.
The night was not going to end well.
Three bottles of suppressants: wasted away.
She lay on her bed, willing her hands above her head. She would not touch herself, she had commanded herself, but her body had other ideas. Her hips somewhat jerked every time she let his face flash across her eyes. She had shed all her clothes in an attempt to lessen the amount of friction; she quickly realized that it exposed her to wafts of air that left her gritting her teeth.
She was in pain.
The suppressants weren't working.
She was going to go mad.
Hours had passed as she stared at the ceiling; never had she concentrated so hard on it. She knew the exact spots she needed to dust when she got the time; she knew the number of small black spots of dust on it. She even imagined connecting them and forming shapes like one would in clouds and stars.
Her mind was powerful, she made sure of it, but she was experiencing a state where her mind wanted to give in to the physical aspect of the heat.
Isabella quickly pushed the thought away.
She heard her cell phone ring on the nightstand, but felt her muscles clench when she tried to move her hand. She pushed herself up, crawling towards the direction of the nightstand. She took a sharp breath as she did so.
She had never thought that one's knees could be so sensitive. She grabbed onto the phone and pulled it to her hears.
"Doctor Isabella Swan," she said gruffly into it. She tried hard to keep her mind away from her tingling knees.
"Dr. Swan," the other person said, urgency clear in her voice. "There is a situation."
"I can't come down, now," she gritted, her time turning and cooking up images of the situation.
"Ma'am..." the person choked. "The inmates..." Isabella felt fear grip her.
"What is wrong? Did they do something? Did someone die?" The person on the other side did nothing to soothe her worries.
"We don't know how many officials are left, ma'am. The numbers are dwindling fast..." she whispered.
"What?" she found herself screaming. "Who is this?" she asked.
"Ma'am, it is Doctor Molina." Isabella took in a shaking breath.
"What is the situation, doctor?" she pressed.
"Someone rigged the security system, ma'am. All the inmates escaped. We don't know what to do." Isabella plopped down onto the bed, shocked.
"They... escaped?" she couldn't believe something like this was possible.
"Should we inform the armed security to take them down?"
"No!" she found herself shouting, stopping the frightened doctor from saying anything else. "You will do no such thing. These specimens are important to the facility. You will not hurt any of them. Just make sure that the walls are activated and no one can escape for now. None of the patients should be killed in the process, do you understand me?" she barked.
"Yes, ma'am," the other woman sobbed.
"Doctor Molina, I know that this is a very difficult situation for you. You need to remain calm and listen to me," her voice shook. She knew that what she was about to ask the other woman would scar her for her whole life, but she had no other option.
"I need you to check on specimen 99725."
"No!" the frightened woman screamed. Isabella ground her teeth together in frustration.
"Believe me, there is little to no chance of him being in his room. And if he is, rejoice. Make sure to not look into his eyes." With that she clicked her phone and hung up on the other.
She fumbled in the darkness to find her remote control. She took it into her palm and then started working on it furiously. It seemed that her security wall was firmly in place. She had locked the house down when she had come in. There was no way anyone was going to breach her security.
Pandora may have been compromised but he would not get to her, of that she was sure.
His words flashed through her mind, though.
Tonight, he had told her, and she was scared. She did not even want to know what he planned to do. She was perfectly sure that it was him who had planned to pull this stunt and escaped. There was no doubt about it: Edward Cullen had used his powers to turn the situation to his favour.
She leaned over with a sigh and placed her phone and remote back in place. As she crawled back to her designated position, she felt an odd thrill.
"Oh, my sweet little nun..." he chuckled. She, frozen in place, felt her body flush.
How long has he been here? She wondered.
"You look positively lovely, all ready for me to take you," he teased. She almost toppled over when she attempted to turn around. "Would you like that?" she heard him say. She faced him now, but swiftly moved away from the source of the voice.
"How-" she began, but he silenced her.
"I've been here the whole time, Isabella," he snickered.
"How did you manage that?"
"I simply made all the guards believe that they had led me back into my cell and escaped," judging from the smugness in his voice, Isabella imagined him shrugging his shoulder as if what he had done was an easy feet.
"And the breakout?" she whimpered. A sudden jolt hit her. She doubled over as she tried to ride the pain out. Sometimes, the pleasure got too intense, and for an unmated vampire, the acuteness of it caused pain.
"You need me," he whispered triumphantly.
"I wanted to complete the irony..." he said after a thoughtful pause. "Who named the facility? I hope it was not you." Indeed, the irony was not lost on her. It had been a stupid move to name the facility and project as it had been. That could count as a horrible omen. "It was fun, though," he chuckled. "I didn't know how long it would take you to realize that I was in the room. Do you think that all that pain was for nothing?" his amusement made her want to rip him apart.
"I am not sure I know what you mean," she said through gritted teeth.
"For a psychiatrist, you are awfully unaware of the natural processes of the vampire, aren't you?"
"If prolonging this conversation feeds your pride, please do continue. I will try to enjoy and pay attention while you have your share of fun." Again, she groaned.
Talking was not helping either.
"I won't be the only one having fun, Isabella." It shocked her to hear him giggle. Was it even possible for such a dangerous creature to giggle? "You've never had a heat this bad," he stated.
"Mating cycles are set off when a vampire finds their mate. It usually happens within a day of seeing the mate, but as you are human, your senses are dulled. You were not able to recognize me for what I a-"
"I know what you are, you bastard," she hissed.
Isabella's eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Suddenly, she could see clearly. She gasped when she saw him.
He was draped over the sofa she placed across her bed, his hands behind his head, his legs thrown over the arm of the furniture. His head was turned towards her, and his eyes glowed.
"You see me," he whispered. She saw his lips curl up into a satisfied smile.
"What is happening to me?" she sobbed. No one knew her better than herself, yet she found herself being betrayed by her own body. How could he know her?
"Because I am your mate. Your body is changing so that it can accommodate me," he seemed too pleased with himself. "Run your tongue over your teeth," he commanded. She complied without thinking. She stiffened when she felt the soreness in her gums, the sharpness of her teeth. "Don't fight it," he forced.
He sprang up from his seat and then stood at the foot of the bed. He crouched down, placing his hands on the mattress and then helping himself onto her bed. The catlike gait he displayed made her shiver and burrow further into the headboard. His grin broadened as he hovered over her, his nostrils flaring slightly as he intoxicated his senses with her scent.
"Don't," she warned, scooting away.
He growled as he caged her under his body.
"Stop trying to run away from me!" he exclaimed. "Do you enjoy making me angry?"
That was the moment Isabella realized the meaning of fear. He placed his weight on his bent feet. His hands slithered over her bare body as he devoured her with his eyes.
"Triggers are a tricky thing, Dr. Swan," he hissed. "Some trigger to kill while others to seduce and ravage." His hands found shelter around her throat. He tightened his hold as he whispered words of possession into her ears. She tried to breathe through her nose, she really did, but his thumb was placed firmly in place, cutting off her air supply. He sucked on her lower lips, insistently, biting and blowing against it on occasion.
Isabella found herself being able to go without the air. The lack of oxygen didn't hurt her, and she suspected that he knew it too well. She could feel the burn of his fingers, the ripple of pleasure it created throughout her body. She wanted to give in, badly, but her self-worth held her back.
Images of her father driving into her reluctant mother flashed in her mind. She tried to wriggle away. His grip tightened further, but now, his hips held her down. She opened her mouth in an attempt to scream, but couldn't produce a noise.
She didn't know where he got his hands on a pair of jeans, but she knew that it was enough to make her tumble into a mind numbing haze.
Her lips were parted; her soundless words driving him further.
"Don't," she mouthed. He grinned and ground his hips harder into hers. She was unable to move, and she felt herself submit. Her body wracked with spasms and he drove on roaring with victory. His fingers slithered away from her neck. The tips of his fingers gently touched her lips and then travelled down, exploring her further.
"I just want to help you, I can't let you suffer when I have the remedy to all your pain," he whispered.
"Please, why are you-" he muffled her questions with his lips. He took care of her needs, helping her through the pain, assuring her body that she was finally submitting to her desires.
"Don't be scared... I love you," he whispered. A strike of lightning swept through her. "Let me take away your pain."
And he meant it, he really did, and Isabella feared that.
His love: it was a dangerous thing. It would ruin her, she knew.
His lips pressed against her neck, kissing her reverently.
"My mate," he breathed against her skin. She shivered, waiting for the torture. She felt the pain as his teeth lodged into her skin. She pushed against him, trying to free herself, but the pain increased.
Until it just disappeared.
The images in her head made her scream. In some, she made love to others; in others she devoured them. She lived through a thousand lives. She saw his face last every time. Right before the dream ended, she felt the pain of his teeth sinking into her, and every time, she screamed.
Who am I? She thought, for she had forgotten who she was.
How could she remember the short life of a human, when her head was filled with those of past lives, his thoughts and those of millions of others who helped him acquire a taste in the most beautiful imageries in the world? She felt their emotions as she did hers, and she felt his love and his lust.
She simply began to forget where she was from, why she existed. In that moment, she just existed in his thoughts, and every single being he had encountered, lived in hers.
"Stop, please..." she sobbed. She didn't know how she did it. The frenzy began, the craving for more, and more she got. Images of wastelands and fields of daffodils blended into those of restored churches and broken bodies. He gave her whatever she needed.
She found herself laughing, hysterically, she dared to think. The voice sounded like hers, but she didn't know how she got the words out. It was a miracle in its own right.
"You embarrass me by showing your love in such a disgraceful manner," she hissed. "You do not love me." Despite the choking, she found her tone firm, determined.
His teeth pulled away, she felt the wetness drip to the back of her neck.
"Do not question my love for you," he sneered. "Your books lie to you. Humans," he spat. "humans know nothing of love. They taught you nothing, my mate. Do you want to know what true love is like? Do you?" he shouted.
"Spoken like a true sociopath," she snapped back. He ignored her completely, but she saw his jaw clenched. She rejoiced in the small victory.
"My heart is like a star, my little nun; seventy-one percent hydrogen and twenty-seven percent helium. It burns brightly, incinerating insignificant entities in its wake. Love: it makes my heart burn brighter. My love for you makes it want to explode. A supernova! Ten octillion megatons of energy: enough to annihilate everything around it. You are my solar system," he insisted. "How can I not destroy you?" astonishment slithered into his voice. "I love you so." His confession made her heart churn.
"And yet you force yourself on me," she taunted. She did not know why she did it, but it seemed like a good idea at the moment.
"When my mate has no concern for her own wellbeing, I take it upon myself to give her everything. You will be taken care of, if you want to or not."
And then he was gone. She screamed out almost instantly, her body convulsing.
She whimpered as she felt him return. His chest was pressed against hers, her forehead against his.
"Feel," he grit out as he pushed himself inside her.
"Don't fill my head with your thoughts," she pleaded. Losing herself wasn't an option.
"You must love me," he demanded. "You must."
She shook her head vehemently, "not like this. Never."
A callous laugh echoed through the house, she almost broke down under him.
"How will you resist me when I stain your skin with my sins?"
"I will smother you with death until you grab onto me."
"I will see to it that you enjoy each depraved thought that passes my mind."
"And you will forget who you were. You will be my mate, just my mate."
As her dreams and memories seeped out of her body and into his, she saw herself transform under his watchful eyes. No, she could not remember why she hated him so much, or why the fear she felt dissipated into a chronic need to suck his soul out of his body. She just knew that she basked in the glory of her transformation.
To him, it was a stroke of genius, a divine act, meant to bring him the mate he had desired for centuries. Through his eyes she saw a woman, whom she at first could not recognize, but the sheer violence of his love, the anguish in his heart, told her that it was her. She almost cried with relief.
A part of her wanted to hold on, it did.
But did she have it in her?
She wished she didn't.
She had never felt euphoria before, and if it was what she was experiencing, she found no reason to hold on. What was the need?
None.
But there was a need, and she fought to grab onto it. She tried desperately to remember why... where had they met? She felt uncontrollable anger in her heart, she felt cheated.
She pushed him away, keeping his face away from her.
His teeth snapped at her, but she pushed and pushed and pushed.
The relentless thrusts came harder and harder until she felt like she would break. She persisted. She pushed.
He roared as he surged forward. He tore at her throat, paralyzing her. Inspiration hit.
She ran her tongue over her teeth. She sucked in a breath, she closed her mind and she bit down on him.
Shock.
That was what he felt.
His jaws slackened as he pulled back. She kept his face pushed away. She did not let him look at her.
He bit down on her finger. She persisted. She sucked her memories out of him.
Rage turned to uninhibited pride.
He let her.
He was proud of his little mate.
Such a good mate.
He bared her neck to her. He wrapped her arms around her and held her close to his heart.
"Finally," he whispered, his head tilted upwards, his eyes closed, a smile on his lips.
Finally, he had found her.