Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Yu-gi-oh. Never have and never will. If you keep reminding me of this, I might have to kill you.

Author's Note: I just wanted to thank my reviewers not only for your kind words, but for inspiring me to continue what I expected to be a one-shot. This isn't as long as the first chapter, but I hope you enjoy it just as much.

The cold night air was shut out abruptly, though the interior of the cabin was no less chilly. Shizuka felt her back hit the door hard enough to halt her breath, the back of her head screaming in protest at the brief contact, pain flaring up again and nearly bringing tears to her eyes. His cold eyes were boring into her, holding her pinned against the wood as sure as his heavy grip on her arms. He did not smell of alcohol this time, but she did not think it mattered. There was anger swirling in those azure depths, anger directed towards her.

The silence was overwhelming, pressing down on her, choking her. The natural sounds of the night did not extend here, leaving the cabin in an almost unholy quiet. His breathing was even and calm while hers was erratic, her frantic breaths the only audible noise aside from the violent pounding of her heart, which she was surprised he could not hear.

One hand rose to her face, thumb gently stroking one of the scrapes marring her cheeks. His thumb coaxed fresh blood to spill down her skin and elicited a pained gasp from her abused throat. He continued his almost gentle stroking, covering her other cheek and her forehead, before tightly gripping her chin.

Still he said not a word.

His eyes trailed over her form almost contemptuously, taking in every inch of her torn and stained clothes, her mussed hair, the numerous scratches along her arms. He made a sound deep in his throat and snapped his eyes back to hers, his face expressionless but his eyes a tempest. His hand slid back to her arm, pressing her against the cold wood implacably, fingers digging into her skin.

Shizuka began to tremble, memories assaulting her, and she found – to her great disgust – that, despite all he had put her through, she wanted nothing more than for him to wrap his arms around her and devour her with his kisses. Her trembling broke into full-blown shivering, her hitherto hidden desires warring with the chill in the small cabin so out of place in the desolated area. They were completely alone there; no one in their right mind would randomly wander the zoo at this time of night. No one would be coming to save her.

Did she even want to be saved? Had she not dreamed of this happening, both with longing and fear, of Seto catching up to her and…and what?

She remembered Otogi then, hanging from that branch, his once-bright eyes staring at her accusingly. It was her fault he was dead; all because of that one incident that seemed to have happened so long ago. He was dead because he made the mistake of loving a marked woman. The blood had been everywhere, and she could imagine the way he had struggled, so futilely, against whatever had ripped at him…

A scream caught in her throat, choked back by her fear. There was blood smudged on the CEO's forehead, and a quick roll of her eyes spotted a darkened knife lying abandoned on the moldy floor. The single lamp flickered uneasily, casting shadows that danced grotesquely along the walls of the one-room cabin.

Shizuka swallowed heavily, her eyes wide.

"So." He finally broke the silence, his voice as quiet and dignified as she remembered. "You thought you could get away." His fingers pressed harder into her arms and she whimpered, squirming in his grip. "You thought it would be that easy, didn't you. Hn. I'm not surprised. You are a Jounouchi after all, the little brat sister of a bonkotsu duelist, someone typically not worth my time."

Shizuka did not respond. She did not know what to say, what he wanted to hear, or what would set him off, so she held her tongue. She could not pull her gaze away, and she was acutely aware of his fingers on her skin, the rough wood against her back, and the steady pounding in her head that threatened to push her back over the edge of consciousness. The shadows in the room were almost monstrous; reaching out as far as the scant light would allow them, they seemed eager to touch her, to taste her, to consume her. He seemed almost as if he were one with the shadows, the light bathing his slender form the only thing lending him any humanity.

Abruptly he threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing hollowly. She took the brief moment to glance around the room, drinking in the sight of a four poster bed in the corner and a few desks and chairs scattered haphazardly amongst photographs and crumpled papers. She did not see more before his gaze snapped her up once again, making her feel small and helpless and absolutely at his mercy. She shivered.

His fingers trailed down her arm, causing little sparks to erupt along her skin, until they twined with her own. Surprisingly gentle, he lifted her hand to touch the pale, barely noticeable scar on his forehead, almost entirely hidden by his dark bangs. He forced her fingers to trace the scar, mirth filling his eyes, reveling in her fear.

"You marked me," he said softly, pressing her hand against his cheek. He was so calm, so completely composed, that she almost wished he would yell and scream and verbally bring her down for what she had done; at least that would have felt more real, more natural. He nipped at her fingers with a little growl. "No one marks a dragon and leaves unscathed. You're mine now, and I'll make sure you learn your lesson."

He yanked her backwards, drawing her towards the bed, and with the pain filling her senses she could barely fight. He easily ignored her weak struggles, treating her like a newborn kitten for all the good her wild blows did, and tossed her onto the bed heedlessly. She hissed with pain and immediately curled up, one hand touching the back of her head and then pulling away, fingers wet and sticky. The room spun in her vision, forcing her to close her eyes momentarily and swallow thickly, almost certain she was on the verge of losing her dinner. After what seemed an eternity but was likely no more than a few seconds, the world calmed down, and she opened her eyes again.

She felt his weight shift onto the mattress, and then he was stroking her hair, so soothingly that she was caught off-guard. His fingers seemed to make the pain dwindle until there was nothing left but a dim ache. The fresh scent of her blood filled the air, but it was distant, almost as of something nearly forgotten, a fading dream. His touch was like magic, an intoxicating press of fingers chasing away the pain and nearly relaxing her. She forgot herself enough to tilt her head back into him, pressing against his hand like a kitten nuzzling for affection. For a moment – just a moment – she forgot that she was his prisoner, that there was a bloodied knife laying on the floor not far from the bed, that there was likely not another human being for miles and miles around. The moment did not last.

Warm lips touched her ear, fingers brushing hair back. "I hit you a little hard, didn't I," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. Shizuka shivered, gooseflesh rising on her arms. "Not nearly as hard as I had to hit your pretty little boyfriend though. What a fight he put up." A sound erupted from him that sounded almost like a giggle, something she would have expected out of that psychopathic Egyptian rather than the cool, calculating CEO.

His words sunk in slowly, effectively shattering the warm contented feeling she had so desperately surrounded herself with. He had all but admitted he had killed Otogi, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the new suit his tailor had made him. Shizuka squealed softly and tried to pull away, but his arms slipped around her, pulling her into his lap with barely any effort. She pushed against him, squirming and scratching, but his hands grabbed her wrists and held her still. His warmth seeped into her, fighting away some of the chill that had caught her in its grasp, and her shivering lessened noticeably, though her eyes were nearly impossibly wide, the fear never leaving them and yet tinged with an odd glimmer of anticipation. Once again she was in his arms, helpless and entirely at his mercy, and he was going to…

Otogi's dull eyes staring at nothing, staring at her, accusing her, hating her…

He was going to…

Otogi, swinging lifelessly from the branch, blood still dripping from his mangled corpse…dead, dead because of her…

Would he kill her, too?

"Does that upset you?" he purred, lifting her arms over her head and leering down at her, noses nearly touching. "If it makes you feel any better, he put up a valiant fight. It's a shame, really, losing such talent, but he touched a dragon's property, and for that he had to die." His tone was so matter-of-fact that Shizuka began to shiver again.

"But don't worry," he continued, an odd grin forming. "You don't face the same fate." He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply, murmuring against her skin. "Not the same fate at all."

Shizuka bit back a whimper at the sensations his lips against her neck caused. She suddenly wasn't cold at all, feeling a little overheated despite her scant clothing, and her wrists went slack in his grip. She could feel him smirk against her, and then suddenly his tongue replaced his lips, and she could not stop her gasp.

Seto chuckled. "That's it," he coaxed, nuzzling her and trailing his nose up the side of her throat until his lips were inches from hers. "Submit to your fate, little one. Your lesson will go much easier if you do."

His lips covered hers and time seemed to stop.

"What do you mean she's not home?" Jounouchi exploded, screaming into the phone. "Otogi called me hours ago saying she had left the concert. Where could she have gone?"

Yuugi watched in silence as his best friend appeared on the verge of a breakdown. Jounouchi really should not have been screaming at his mother like that, but Yuugi knew better than to interrupt him. He was worried, and his mother likely was as well. He put his head on his arms and watched as Jounouchi continued his tirade, wincing every now and then at the boy's language and trying not to get lost in his own worries.

He was not particularly close to Shizuka, but she was Jounouchi's little sister, and a very sweet girl that he likely would have been drawn to without the intervention of his best friend. He included her in his little circle of friends, even though the girl was nearly as quiet as Bakura and just as unassuming. She never spoke unless she had something to say, never went out of her way to fill up comfortable silence, and was always ready to lend an ear or a shoulder to those who needed them. The thought that something horrible might have happened to her made his skin crawl.

Jounouchi's face turned an impressive shade of red as he pressed a button on the phone and chucked it at the wall, the phone clattering lifelessly to the floor.

"No luck?" Yuugi asked gently, wide eyes concerned.

"She still hasn't gone home," Jounouchi said, his voice surprisingly soft.

"What about Otogi-kun?"

"She's not there, either." Jounouchi paused as if remembering something. "His mother hasn't seen him since he left yesterday afternoon to pick up Shizuka." He shivered and rubbed his arms absently, seemingly unaware of his actions. His dark eyes were furious, covering the worry that was gnawing him to pieces.

"Maybe they stopped at a café or something to get some coffee, or even some cheesecake. You know how much Shizuka-chan loves cheesecake," Yuugi suggested, though he did not believe it himself. Wearily, he rose from his perch on the computer chair and approached his friend. "Otogi-kun wouldn't let anything happen to Shizuka-chan."

"I tried his cell phone," the blonde replied tiredly, fisting his hands in his already messy hair. "It was out of service or something. Damn it, I knew we should have gotten Shizuka a cell phone of her own!" Not that it would make a difference if something happened to her, he mentally added, his fury only increasing.

Yuugi reached out and touched his friend on the shoulder. "Why don't we round up the guys and go looking for her, Jounouchi-kun?" he suggested, prompted by his darker half's urgings. Shizuka meant little to the dark spirit beyond being Jounouchi's sister, but he sensed his aibou's distress and wished to abate it.

"Is that such a good idea at this hour?" Frustrated, Jounouchi balled his hands into fists and punched the wall, leaving a decent sized dent in the already dilapidated walls. Yuugi could hear Jounouchi's father yell something from the other room.

"Would you rather sit here and wait?"

Silence met his question. Jounouchi's face slowly returned to its normal color, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. "If someone has laid one finger on my sister, harmed one hair on her head, I swear I will make them wish they were never born! I don't care who it is; they're going down!"

Shizuka could not hold back a whimper as his lips gently caressed hers, his tongue darting out to briefly taste her. He shifted her wrists to one hand, his other snaking around her waist and pulling her tightly against him, fingers slipping beneath her shirt. His hand trailed up her skin and came to rest near the middle of her back, fingers splayed wide and holding her tenderly, but tightly, leaving barely any space between their bodies. His lips drew away from hers to trace a wet trail along her jaw and down her throat, nipping every now and then.

His free hand slid over her sides, tickled her stomach, and then drifted higher, slender fingers tracing over the thin fabric that stood between him and her bare skin. She gasped and arched her back, pressing closer to his teasing touch, her cheeks feeling warm. Sparks danced across her skin, and she cried out when his fingers slipped beneath the fabric. No one, not even Otogi, had been able to make her skin catch fire like this, make her feel like she was tumbling headfirst down an endless tunnel with one small caress.

"I've waited a long time for this," he breathed against her skin, causing her to shiver. His fingers continued to stroke, nails grazing lightly over her sensitive flesh, and she squirmed in his lap. "I've watched and waited and planned and prepared myself for the perfect moment to strike. I don't think even Mokuba knew what I had in mind."

His grip on her wrists tightened painfully, and his other hand slid out of her bra, retracing its way over her shoulders and down her back. He smirked at her disappointed moan.

"It's been so long, so very, very long," he murmured, gently kissing her skin. Shizuka closed her eyes tightly, afraid to interrupt him. "It nearly killed me, knowing you were with him, knowing you were just out of my reach. That night…you ensnared me, intoxicated me, and I knew as soon as I pulled you into my room that I had to have you."

He pulled away and smiled down at her, though there was no warmth in it. His eyes were no longer so cold, but his smile was enough to chill her to the bone. "But then you had to fight me, even though you knew, deep down, that you wanted me as well. You made a mistake, little one; the biggest mistake of your life."

His nails dug into her back, piercing the skin, and he laughed as she squealed and began trying to twist away from him again. Blood trickled down her back slowly, thin lines staining her already grimy shirt. He bent his head and kissed her fiercely, tongue forcing its way into her mouth. Frightened and on the verge of panicking, Shizuka bit down.

He pulled away, swearing profusely. He withdrew his hand, stained with her blood, and slapped her. "It looks like I'll have to teach you several lessons tonight," he snarled, "one of which is to never…ever…ever fight me." He gripped her chin hard, squeezing painfully. "Do you understand?"

All she could do was squeak in reply, unable to nod. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and she was frightened to even blink, to lose sight of him for even a brief second. His face was twisted in rage, a sick caricature of his normally attractive features, his eyes seeming to burn straight through her soul. Something had happened to him that night, something that turned him from the cool, collected CEO of Kaiba Corporation to this monster that held her in his grasp.

His features relaxed, once again assuming the unruffled expression she was so familiar with. He bent his head and gently, tenderly – though there seemed to be some mockery in his actions – licked away her tears.

"There's no need to cry," he murmured against her cheek. His hand slid out from beneath her shirt and trailed down, slender fingers stroking her legs. Slowly, as if he were savoring every motion, he began unbuttoning her pants. "You really shouldn't waste such precious tears when we have only just begun."

Yuugi eyed the small group that gathered in the abandoned concert area, some still in their nightclothes. Bakura was yawning and rubbing his eyes, his white hair looking more mussed than usual, a few tufts rising away from his head like odd horns and appearing quite out of place with his placid expression. For a brief moment, his dark eyes were tinged with annoyance, but it was gone so quickly that Yuugi pinned the blame on his own lack of sleep. Honda, fully dressed and looking as if he had never gone to sleep, had a fierce gleam in his dark eyes. He was busy complaining, rather loudly, to a pink pajama-clad Anzu.

"I told you Otogi wasn't good enough for her!" he was yelling, waving his arms around. "He can't even get her home from a concert in one piece! When I find him, I'm going to make sure he never steps foot near her again!"

Anzu shook her head, her tired eyes scanning the debris left over from the concert, though she did not know what she was looking for. "We all know your feelings towards him," she said calmly, trying her best not to grow irritated with the boy. He was only worried, after all, and letting it out in the only way he knew how. They were all worried. "Let's concentrate on finding them first."

Yuugi and Bakura were already walking away from the pair, following Jounouchi's fierce steps towards one of the paths leading into the city. The tall boy's eyes were raking the surroundings as if he expected to find Shizuka hidden behind every blade of grass. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, trembling from the effort of not lashing out and taking out his frustration on something, anything.

"What do you think we are going to find, Yuugi-kun?" Bakura asked quietly, watching Jounouchi as if he expected the boy to explode at any moment.

"I don't know," he admitted, feeling helpless and irritated. He refused to let his darker half take over, however; this was his friend, and he wanted to do all he could, not run away and hide in his soul room while the once-Pharaoh took complete control of the situation. For once, he wanted to accomplish something on his own, and his other half fully respected his decision, promising he would be there if he was needed. It was a comforting thought.

"This place is deserted. There's not even anybody to question." Yuugi could have sworn that his white-haired friend sounded almost bored.

"We have to keep looking," he said firmly.

A cry caught their attention.

"Hey, isn't this Shizuka's?"

Yuugi turned and squinted, barely making out what appeared to be some sort of sweater in Anzu's raised hand. Yuugi shrugged uncomfortably – he did not know Shizuka's wardrobe – and glanced towards his best friend. Jounouchi was staring at the article of clothing as if it were a live viper.

"Yes." Though quiet, his voice carried back to Anzu and Honda, who were eyeing the sweater unhappily. Frowning, he turned and continued along the path, not giving the pair a second look.

Yuugi sped up his pace until he was side by side with Jounouchi, reaching out to tug on his sleeve. "Where are you going?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"I…don't know." Jounouchi's frown deepened. "I'm just following a feeling I have. Something tells me Shizuka came this way."

Bakura looked vaguely amused. "Instinct is often correct," he said, almost as if to himself. He was strolling behind them casually, eyes scanning the path and the woods to either side, not appearing the least bit tired anymore. "It has never led Me astray."

Yuugi nodded and continued on in silence, alternately watching his best friend and the path, wondering if Shizuka really had come this way or not. It would have been great luck if Jounouchi had chosen the correct path out of the dozens she could have taken, more luck than he felt comfortably trusting, but right now he would take any advantage he could get.

After a while, Bakura spoke up again, voice still quiet. "Hn. Look at this."

Jounouchi and Yuugi paused, glancing back. The white-haired boy was holding a soiled, twisted lavender ribbon in his slender fingers almost uncaringly. Jounouchi ran over and snatched the ribbon out of his hand, staring at it.

"It might be hers," he said slowly, squinting as if he could see her face in the fabric if he only looked hard enough. "I don't know anything about hair products, and you know girls have so many…" His voice trailed off.

"I'm sure she's all right," Yuugi called to him, pausing to rest against a tree. He jerked back when he felt something clammy and wet soaking into the back of his jacket. He spun around and stared at the bark, reaching out to touch it timidly.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you."

Yuugi had not even heard Bakura step up beside him. The white-haired boy was looking above his head, up into the limbs of the tree, his gaze unreadable.

"Hn. Looks like we found Otogi."