Disclaimer: I do not own Carlisle, Esme, Aro, or anyone else in this fic. Stephanie Meyer does. She would probably be very upset if she saw what I was doing with them.

A/N: First, thanks to all the people who reviewed and added me to lists of favorites! I was really worried about this story, for the content, and I'm so glad people liked it. I was gonna add this chapter next week, but…I broke my foot. XD So, I'll be updating a bit more regularly from my bed-ridden state.

This chapter contains description of rape. Please please, don't read it if it will be triggering or disturbing to you. Your mental health is more important.

Esme stepped back from him, shock crossing her face as her mind wrapped around his words. Aro's hand was a vice grip on her wrist, and for a moment she thought he might break it.

"A simple question. Would you give you your body to me? Would you surrender your pride, your dignity, your…fidelity, to save your husband?"
Esme felt as though the walls were closing. Her vision went hazy, and she staggered back, away from Aro's cold eyes. "You…you're asking me too-"

"Yes." He nodded calmly. "Exchange a sexual favor for the release of your husband. Of course…" he smiled. "You can always refuse. If he's not worth it-" Esme's dark look silenced him, but his smiled widened. He knew he had won.

Esme dropped her eyes. "You give me your word. You give me your word you'll let us both leave." Aro nodded, his smiled triumphant.
"Yes, my word. On the stones of Volterra, you will leave in peace."

Esme couldn't look at him, but she knew her choice was made. "Alright…I agree."

Aro smiled, a sinister grimace of the mouth, and he went back to the high chairs behind the table. He steepled his fingers, staring at her. "Remove your clothes."

Esme's breath caught in her throat, but she bit her lip to keep herself from sobbing, and starred hard at the wall over his head as she unknotted her scarf. She slowly unbuttoned her coat, and let both pieces fall to the floor. She could feel his eyes on her, tearing through her clothes, her flesh, into her very heart. She shut her eyes, drawing up a picture of Carlisle in her mind. Letting his face give her strength, she let her dress slip off her shoulders and crumple to the floor. She stepped out of it and her shoes.

Aro's sigh of desire brought the chill of fear she'd been fighting and she shuttered visibly.

"Continue." He intoned. She lowered her eyes, fighting a wave of panic as she removed the rest of her clothes.

She'd never been bare before Charles. It wasn't deemed seemly for husbands and wives to see each other like that. Carlisle had been the first man to see her naked, and he taught her there was nothing to be ashamed off. He made her feel beautiful for the first time in her life. But standing here, naked before Aro's hungry gaze, she felt as disgusting and used as she had before he had entered her life.

The rush of air and scent of old dust as Aro came near her brought her slamming back into the present. She had steeled herself for this, for the first touch from his unfamiliar hand. But when his fingers brushed her neck and shoulder, her body instinctively flinched away. Aro's hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her hard against his body. She fought the urge to tremble and held as still as she could, praying it would all be over soon.

"You are indeed beautiful, Esme." He whispered, his hand caressing her breast and she swallowed to hold back a sob. "Carlisle is a lucky man indeed." His hands continued to roam over her body as his lips moved over her throat, leaving her fighting for control, not to run or scream, or beg him to please please get away from her.

"Tell me, do you often lie together?" he moved to her other side, stroking her hair.

"Is he gentle, my dear? He always was a kind heart. Does he coax reactions from you, reactions you never thought a lady could have?" Still, she remained silent. She had promised her body, but she refused to be his toy.

Aro seemed to find her silence amusing. He slid his lips along her jaw, chuckling as a whimper escaped her throat. "He hardly knows you. He lives to protect you, and yet here you are, saving him." His lips pressed to her ear. "I certainly hope you can, even after you're released. We've been starving him. And he wasn't well fed to begin with. If we offered him a human now, what do you think he would do?"

Esme felt white hot rage boil through her, and everything faded to red. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd coiled her arm and struck him as hard as she could across the mouth. It did little, of course, but his eyes went from amused to murderous in seconds.

"On the table. Now." He ordered. She didn't move, stunned by the malice in his garnet eyes. His lips pulled back into a snarl, and he shoved her, hard, onto the stone table. She gasped at the pain as the jagged surface dug into her back, opening long cuts. He was on her an instant later, his hands forcing her legs apart. She nearly gagged, revulsion and horror flooding her, at him, and at herself. She thought of Carlisle, her Carlisle, alone and hungry in some cold cell, and held back a sob. She could do this. She could survive this, and they would be together again.

But no amount of hope or love could have stopped her from crying out when he roughly entered her. The chill in the room, the jagged tearing of the table, even his hands on her wrists vanished in the burn of his intrusion. He tore into her body again, and again, and she was soon sobbing, eyes clamped tightly shut. A thin trickle of blood and venom slid down her leg, and for the first time nearly eighty years, Esme Cullen prayed for death.