It was black. Black and empty like the hollow, callous colour of darkened coal. There was no gentle golden glow from the blistering sun. No tender blue spreading across the sky. It was black. Dark and harsh, with a wicked chill that nipped and clawed at skin. It was vicious, uncharted; cruel. And if wandering eyes were to look to the sun, they would not see the beautiful, golden eye that had once serenely watched over Skyrim's lands. It was a horrid red and black hole! A chilling black abyss that had swallowed up any gentle light – ripping anything light and pure away from the land. Arianna looked up at in despair, shaking to the cold and grinding her teeth at the brewing sickly sensation that slithered across her skin.

Cries and screams of terror surrounded her - yelps of pain and shouts of confusion and dread. There was a clatter of hisses and roars and screeches and wails - drawing the girl's attention away from the blood darkness that polluted the sky. Around her squealing mortals fled, scrambling through the scratching grass; racing towards love ones or rushing out of burning buildings. Capering after them, hissing and snickering, were swarms of dark, sinful creatures with glowing eyes and corpse-like skin. They had the swift movements of a ghost as they glided through the biting air. They were the sinful predators that enjoyed the unnerving cries of pain and anguish. They fed off fear, and enjoyed the taste of it.

Arianna could only watch, tears swelling in her eyes and pain freezing her body to stone. Her body shivered to the low rattling of a deep chuckle, and the hairs on the back of her neck became erect when a flash of warmth touched her shoulder. She needed not turn; she could see the phantom who caressed her forming in her mind, even without casting her eyes on whoever stood before her. She knew exactly who it was, and shock did not engulf her when the phantom swiftly spun her around, with the flick of his hand. He took her by the chin and lifted her head higher through the air.

The explosions of cries and shrieks of agony filled her ears, and crushed her heart as the phantom pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her body, with them tightening around her frame. The chilling screams seemed to grow louder. The sky seemed to darken. Skyrim slowly crumbling beneath her…

The swallowing softness of the mattress beneath Arianna's body seemed to keep her locked in a slumber, though a pleasant sleep it was not. Her body tossed and turned, with her head rattling side to side; her body thrusting itself deeper into the bed she lay upon. Sweat gathered on her brow, trickling down her arms and sticking to her neck and breast. Again she fidgeted, sharp grunts spitting out from her lips. Minute by minute, her body thrashed more chaotically against the bed with her muted squeals gradually growing louder as they erupted from her mouth.

At long last Arianna's eyes sprung open, with her body jolting upwards; her ragged breath rattling in her throat. Heavy bursts of air spurted from her lips, as she bowed her head to her chest, causing a curtain of her red hair to fall over her face, with curling strands scratching against her knee. With her hand, she wiped away the clammy droplets of sweat that crudely clung to her porcelain skin; raking her fingertips roughly through her hair and softly gnawing onto her bottom lip. How long had she been out? Where was she?

She cautiously observed around her, her body shuddering slightly from a wicked cold that nipped at her skin. She could feel the clinging, hot clammy hands of agitation pinching at her, mustering droplets of sweat on the back of her neck. She snapped it away with the swift, abrupt motion of her hand and vigilantly slipped off from the bed she had been left on. The floor beneath her was like ice, and the callous coldness rushed up her limbs like a zap of electricity – making a blanket of ghastly shivers sweep over her skin. When she looked down she noticed how she was bare footed, with her small toes reluctantly prodding at the chilled stone floor.

The bed that Arianna had been left on was quite large, stretching out wide enough to easily fit two, possibly three people. Draped over the large, extravagant bed, with the rich ebony stone frame and the entrancing gothic carvings engraved into the headboard and base, was a rich, blood-red quilt, that was greatly soothing and engulfing, to Arianna, feeling softer than any king's silk, when she had lain on it. The headboard stretched up quite high, with deep red curtains hanging from the stone wall, falling behind the bed. Arianna gazed at it with confusion. This was a sort of bed fit for kings, or emperors even! But not even kings or emperors possessed such an extravagant luxury as this. Where was she? Why had she awakened on that?

Directly in front of her, to the left of the bed, was a sort of stone balcony, with a single glowing candle mounted on the stone slab of the barrier. Arianna stumbled towards it, grunting and wincing as she moved. She felt awfully weak for some reason, but could not acknowledge why.

When her fingers caressed the low stone balcony, her body trembled. The coldness of it made her teeth go on edge. She cautiously peered down, her eyes growing wide and glassy with apprehension. Blood was splattered on the walls and stained on the floor beside a wooden torture bench with a table ahead of it. There was a pool of blood beside an orange flickering fire – not far from where the table was situated. Deadly torture devices were lashed on the stone floor – the ashy remains of one metal object crumbling out from the fire; a blood axe tossed randomly beside the leg of the table.

With an angered ferocity brewing in her eyes, Arianna brought her eyebrows together, and jolted away from the balcony. She abruptly moved away, following the torn grey carpet to the stone stairs – a long soft, yet thin carpet, speckled with exotic patterns in a blurring silver material. Her arms crossed over her chest; her fingertips rubbing her skin, which was stinging from the bitter cold.

She rushed down the pale stone steps quickly – the patting of her capering feet echoing in the unsettling, quiet air. The silence distressed her. It made her skin crawl with shivers. It made all the muscles in her body freeze. Normally, she embraced the silence –relishing the stillness, and hush of the night, where movements are inaudible, with the land standing still. Normally, silence was her decree; her glamorous domain – she was unashamed to concede. But the silence here… was different. It was wrong, and bitter, and made every trivial, precautious step, as loud as the crashing of a mammoth.

Arianna scuttled across the hall, prancing on her tiptoes, with a soundless bounce to her swift step. She took care to avoid the splashed of blood, splattered messily across the floor, and hurried towards the door, refusing to look back nor stop. Though, when her fingers came into contact with the heavy, brass doorknob of the towering, grand, double wooden doors, she did glance behind her. She cautiously scanned the hall, skimming the stairs, with her inimitable, apprehensive eyes. She could feel a grisly lump emerging in her throat as she stood there – enough of this, she had to get out! With a tug, she tried to haul the door open. It wouldn't budge. Again and again she yanked, being careful not to make too much noise – but the door refused to shift, no matter how hard she heaved at it.

A long puff of air burst from her lips, with Arianna's vexed glance locked on the doorknob. Her thumb ran across the chilled metal – noting the dent in the doorknob. A lock! How sneaky! Arianna analysed the lock more, clicking her tongue and probing at the metal with her fingernails. She'd had a crack at many locks in her time, and knew which ones could be picked, and which sly ones needed a key. A displeased sigh escaped her mouth as she shoved herself away from it, scowling around her with her fingers tapping against her arm. To her disappointment, this was one of them devious, aberrant ones that required a key - something that was going to be hard to obtain.

It could have been anywhere! It could have been on the other side of that door, for all Arianna knew. But she had to shake those contemplations away. She couldn't afford to just give up. She had to try – try, at her finest efforts, to free herself from this place!

Still treading lightly, she proceeded to hurry back up the stone steps – rushing up them as quietly as she could manage. When she reached the top, she examined around her, swiftly, with a fierce look of obstinate determination glowing in her bright, attentive eyes.

"A key," she snappishly said aloud, in a hush voice, rushing towards a long and thin, rich wooden dresser, not far from the bed; against the grey, stone wall on the opposite side of the balcony, "if I was a key, where would I be?"

Her fingers coiled around the acutely shaped golden handle, in which she tugged at it. Locked! Arianna grinded her teeth together, glaring at the locked dresser with awe, "why has everything got to be locked?" she muttered, with a puff. A gleam of optimism suddenly flushed in her cheeks, with her hands rushing up to her hair. She diligently patted around her head, pursing her lips and squinting her eyes as her fingers raked through the thickness of her red hair. She placed her hand at the bottom of her skull, tapping her hair and then grinned, yanking out two tiny objects from her head. In her fingertips, she held two bobby pins, which she had hidden in the curling strands of her hair for predicaments. One was bent in half, fashioned by herself to act as a tension wrench to secure in a lock. Checking around her one more time, she stooped down into a determined crouch, carefully securing her handmade tension wrench into the tiny lock. She exhaled slowly, and with the bite of her tongue, vigilantly secured her bobby pin into the lock. With caution, she slowly rotated and wiggled the pick – analysing the lock intently with an assertive, concentration. The clicking of the lock was like music to Arianna's ears. A triumph grin stretched to her cheeks, as she plucked the bobby pins out from the lock, and slyly secured them back in her hair.

Inside was something she didn't want to find. There was no key – to her dissatisfaction. But curiosity began to simmer inside of her. Why the precaution? Arianna studied the contents inside with speculation and inquisitiveness. There was sharp silver letter opener inside, glimmering and glittering with an intriguing lustre. She picked it up and waved it in the air, analysing the cool metal with a captivated curiosity. There was one other thing – an envelope. It looked quite old, with the edges of the paper shrivelled and grey. It was if, the letter had been opened and resealed, opened and resealed many times. Arianna picked it up gently, examining it; wondering. Why had it been resealed? Why was it locked away? There was no name, or address on it. Was it right of her to open it?

As she stood there, she caught glimpse of her reflection in a long, rich wooden black mirror to the right-side of the bed. The glimmer of the glass caught her eye, and she wandered over to it, shutting the dresser shut; chucking the letter and the knife softly on the bed. Swathed around her neck, was a cotton cloth, with splotches of dry blood seeping through the material. Faint splashes of dry blood had stained her shoulder blade and breast, with even a few droplets splashed onto her cheek. She frowned to what she was wearing, not remembering changing her clothes. Wrapped around her petite body, was a dull, beige coloured tunic – like a long vest falling down her torso – with a pair of ragged shorts to match it. Her pale legs and arms were exposed; her chest prominent.

She scowled at her outlandish reflection, snapping her head away and brusquely spinning her body around, with her arms tightly folded across her chest. A shock of pain stabbed at her, making her skin throb for a moment. It was her neck, it was stinging and burning. With a wince, Arianna rushed her hand to it, wrapping her fingers around her neck and squeezing at her flesh – believing for some peculiar reason that it would curb the pain. It all came flushing back to her – the wave of dreaded fear, the stinging prick of Harkon's fangs and the blood. So much blood. She shivered, grimacing when she recalled that moment. Again, she could hear the unsettling echo of Harkon's groans, and the chilling words he jabbed at her, ringing like a mad bird in her head. It made her body tremble, with the devilish sense of anger gnawing into her.

For some weird reason, Arianna's eyes began to sting, with a clouded, almost grey mask of liquid shrouding her vision. She tried to stop her lip from trembling but it didn't help. Nor could she prevent the beads of tears that slowly trickled down her cheek. The sullen, empty feeling in her stomach was nauseating; the painful emotion yanking at her making her body tremble. The agonising thumping of her wrenching heart was something she hated to endure. She remembered this horrid feeling – it was when the sky was a grim grey, with stones of ice rain plummeting from the sky and harshly crashing down on her, biting and scratching at her skin. She couldn't experience them same emotions – not now… not here…

She stopped herself before a whine erupted from her lips - abruptly slapping her hand to her mouth and gnawing at her skin as the tears continued to slip from her closing eyes. Slowly, she collapsed to the floor, sliding down the toothed, ice wall she leant upon. She sat there for a moment, bringing her knees to her chest and burying her face in her hands. A mixture between irritation and sorrow flooded her face when she abruptly jerked her head up from her hands – roughly smearing away the tears that clung to her skin with the back of her hand. She snivelled, swallowing the lancing lump in her throat, before shakily rising to her feet.

She found herself, glimpsing back to her reflection, where she rubbed her face coarsely, and erased all tears droplets by snapping them off her skin. Puffing out a long gust of breath from her parted lips, she proceeded to turn around, snatching the knife and letter from the bed with the swift flick of her hand. She hid the knife in her clothes, carefully slipping half of it down her shorts – concealing the glimmering blade by heaving her tunic over it. She glared at the letter for a moment, running her fingers along the edges, and spinning the envelope in her fingers. With the click of her tongue, she proceeded to hide it, stuffing the sealed letter under a pillow on the bed – determined to inspect it once she'd figured out how to get out of here. The Key. She had to find the key – no more distractions; there just wasn't any time!

She cast her distinguishing, vivid eyes along the trivial upper floor – where she was still standing. Her eyes locked onto a wooden opposite the stairs – gothic carving whittled along the borders of the dark wood. Why had she noticed that before?

With caution, she slowly ambled over to it– her right hand resting on her hip, with her fingers shaping around the knife hidden in her clothes. The creaking of the door made her nervous, as she vigilantly shoved it open with the tips of her fingers. It was freezing inside – the biting cold made her wince, triggering a blanket of shivers to crudely cast over her barely covered body. She stood restlessly in the doorway, reluctant to venture inside. She couldn't think of the reason why. It was just a room. There was never anything scary, or threatening or dangerous about a room, was there? A load of rational contemplations madly rocketed through Arianna's mind, but still she was, for whatever unknown reason, hesitant to budge.

After a soothing exhale of soft, heavy breath drifted from her lips, she finally treaded inside. She wasn't herself in here, she knew it! The very air put her on edge. She wanted to dash out, like the humorous actions of a child. But, she continued to wander inside regardless, even if her skin was crawling with a sickly sensation that her very being loathed, and even if her teeth chattered soundlessly in her jaw, with her lip trembling and her skin freezing to ice. The loud bang of a shutting door made Arianna jolt into the air. Her heart thudded chaotically in her throat, as she peered behind her, noting how the door has suddenly swung shut. She ignored it, taking a breath and stepping further inside.

The first thing that she was greeted with, was a roaring fire – a blistering orange flame inside a tall, gothic iron brazier. Despite the sizzling fire positioned beside the stone wall, there was still an awful chill in the room. A weird, wicked cold that clung onto Arianna like biting insects. She tried her best to overlook, stepping further inside. The same grey carpet trailing from the bed to the stairs guided her further inside, a faint smell of ash simmered up Arianna's nostrils – most likely drifting from the blazing flame ahead of her.

A look of horror swamped Arianna's face as she craned her neck to the right. Mounted on a raised surface, ahead of two steps, propped up against the wall, was a coffin! It was grand, with the rich oak almost appearing red, when the radiating glow from the orange fire hit it. To its left, inclined against the wall, was a grand wooden dresser, with various carving fashioned into the wood. To its right, was a table, blood dripping from the wilted oak surface, with various gothic goblets stained red, and even a mead barrel – splattered with droplets of dried blood – speckled along the table. Arianna mused that whatever was in the barrel, was not mead – far from it. She stood in shock, hardly able to move as she glared alarmingly at the closed coffin. She wanted to get out, run out now, but her feet had frozen still. She couldn't move! As much as she desperately wanted to, she couldn't move!

At last, her limbs began to move again. Keeping her restless glare, locked on the coffin, Arianna stumbled backwards, crashing her back against the door with a stifled grunt exploding from her lips. She anxiously felt around for the door handle, and once found, hastily rammed the door open and rushed outside. She slammed the door close, keeping her palms pressed up against it as she attempted to control her heavy, ragged breath. It gave her shudders imaging what was inside of there.

Arianna raked her hand through her hair, and slumped onto the bed, twisting her lips and contemplating. How was she going to get out of here? With a sigh, she tugged out the knife from her clothes and toyed with it – trailing her fingertips up the cool metal, and probing the point edge. She studied the handle, an exotic ebony handle, carved from a rich stone. It was more like a work of art than a simple knife. The handle seemed to be some sort of face, with sharp tusks coming out from the sides, and wrapping around the knife. It was a devilish thing. But awfully peculiar and intriguing.

"The beating of your heart was so loud," an amused, chilling voice teased – a venomous golden voice that made Arianna quake. A shushed chuckle rattled through the air, and vibrated in her eardrums. She shivered, with fear holding her still. "I bet the whole castle heard its unruly rhythm," he continued, with the shrill echo of his boots moving towards the bed, "I predicted that you would go snooping. I'm amused, I must confess, it seems that it will take more than one bite to make you obedient."

Arianna quickly spun her body around, gripping tightly on the knife that was locked in her right hand. She found herself sinking further into the mattress, squirming further and further away from Harkon so that her back knocked against the bed's rigid headboard, with her fists snatching clumps of the quilt – twisting the soft material with her stiff fingers. Her knees drew close to her chest, with her quick eyes glued onto the vampire's face – watching his lip curl into a playful sneer, exposing the tip of his fang. It gave her shivers looking at it. It made her wince! She could almost again feel the tormenting agony of his bite - the horrific, torturous sting of it.

"Don't come near me!" Arianna yapped, gripping onto the quilt more tightly; twisting it with more anxiousness and dread. The lump wickedly crawling down her throat gave her shivers, and made her limbs twist. His eyes were burning into her! Those glowing, devilish eyes! Yet, the hot hand of anger still gript onto Arianna tightly, and would not let go. She could feel its sweet poison brewing in her eyes, and spreading across her body, making her shudder and radiate a fiery heat from her skin.

"Disappointing," he said with a bored tone, ignoring her desperate demands and approaching her anyway, standing at the foot of the bed with a threating, predatory manner which made Arianna nervous. "I was expecting a retort, with a little more diversion, and hilarity. My, my, you are positively petrified, aren't you little lamb?"

The claws of ire burrowed deeper into Arianna's skin, piercing her flesh and seeping into her blood – boiling it – making her ready to erupt. Her teeth clamped down onto her lip, with her head snapping away from Harkon, and instead her eyes focused on the patterns in the quilt she lay upon.

"What? Am I infuriating you?" Harkon provoked with a chuckle, placing one foot closer to the bed, "well go ahead. Incite me. Make my day. Go ahead, I dare you."

"Go rot in Oblivion, leech!"

"Is that the best you can do, little lamb? Your tedious remarks are boring me."

"Then leave me. Or even better, let me the fuck go! Asshole!"

"Hmm," Harkon began, placing his hands on the base of the bed, and leaning over it slightly, pressing all of his weight onto the stone – Arianna believed that it might crack and shatter from how forceful he was pressing down on it. "I have better uses for you here."

"I'm not going to be your fucking blood bag! Leech!" Arianna barked, scrambling to the other end of the bed and dangling her legs off of the edge. Harkon studied her movements, like one does when curiously watching the behaviours of a wild animal. He studied the sway of her legs, noting the twitching of her toes as they dangled above the stone ground, and the curve of her foot when it was elevated in the air. Her long legs were firm-looking, shapely and strong, and the pale shade of them reminded him of the pure radiance of snow – unspoiled, unscathed and exquisite. Her cascading hair had the fiery vividness of a flame, he noted, and was like a wave of fire as it gracefully fell down her back. He could smell her from where he was standing. The sensual, enticing spice that made his senses tingle – something that had never plagued him before. The taste of her blood was a constant reminiscence - persistently jabbing at the back of his throat, and tugging at the strings in his mind. Even the faint spice of dried, dead blood on her skin and on his floor was enough to make his throat burn.

"I would like it if you gave me back my knife," Harkon demanded calmly, holding out his hand. Arianna held the knife tighter, glaring up at Harkon's stern, glowing eyes with apprehension. But she held herself strong. Her tongue ran across her lip, and she snapped up her head suddenly with the flick of her hair.

"I don't like to be kept waiting," he warned, cocking his eyebrow and voicing his orders in a more sombre tone. "I'll tell you one more time, give me back my knife."

"And if I say no?" Arianna provoked, looking more sternly into Harkon's eyes. She began to feel more confident – the agitating grip of fear was gradually slipping away from her. It felt good to slowly be free from its torments.

A low chuckle drifted from Harkon's lips, with his head shaking and his nails drumming into the head board. He stopped and looked up, a playful grin stretched across his cheeks. Arianna glowered with bewilderment and uncertainty, sinking further into the mattress and slinking back to the bed's headboard. "Do I have to come and get it?" he taunted, in an odd coquettish tone, craning his head to the side, with his glance making Arianna uneasy. "I'm intrigued," he began, glaring at Arianna with an unnerving hunger brewing in his eyes, "I'm certain that I didn't leave that out for you to yield. Tell me, and do not feed me lies, where did you find that?"

Arianna shrugged. Instead of growing mad Harkon chuckled, he could sense the sweet aroma of trepidation seeping out from her skin. It amused him – her bold efforts to hide her true feelings. Harkon was not easily fooled. She could not hide her true emotions from him. Though, her desperate attempts to do so, was curious to him – captivating even. He was accustomed to mortals weeping and begging at his feet, but this girl was diverse. She was daring and audacious. She fed him the bittersweet rejoinders that he craved. It amused him; fascinated him. It made this girl unique - a trait that enticed him.

"Do you know what it is? The blade you so tightly cling onto to?" he asked intently, in which Arianna shook her head vigilantly. His devilish grin splashed across his face, "it is a tribute to the daedric prince, Molag Bal. That him, there sculptured on that handle you hold onto. I doubt you have heard of him….but…that conversation can be left to another occasion." "Last time, give me the blade."

"Or what?" Arianna goaded, anger turning her words into a bitter growl and crinkling her face into a scowl, "you'll kill me? You drink me dry? Go ahead, because if I' m honest, I don't give a damn. If you think that you can scare me with threats of death, then you can never be more wrong. Death does not scare me, and it never will. So go ahead. I dare you, to give me your best shot."

"Your courage never fails to surprise me."

Harkon slowly began to saunter around the bed; his finger dragged along the base of bed as he trailed past it. Arianna sat uncomfortably on the bed, snappishly jerking the blade in the air and pointing it at Harkon. He chuckled as he cast an eye over her. He walked to her side of the bed, leaning against the balcony, watching her chest rise and fall – noting the veins pulsating heavily against her skin in her neck, and watching a droplet of sweat trickle down her shoulder blade.

"I thought you implied that you have no fear," Harkon teased with his tongue flicking across his teeth, "that you have no fear for death."

"I don't. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to throw myself to you defensiveness."

A chuckle rumbled in Harkon's throat, with his eyes flashing to the floor. When he looked up he gave a devilish grin, analysing Arianna's face. Her arm slowly dropped, with the colour suddenly flushing out from her cheeks. A look of revulsion swept over her, with her body appearing to sink into the mattress. Harkon looked at her with amusement.

"My, my, my dear, you look pale." He teased, in a sarcastic, humorous tone – but his words and quality were only amusing for him, as he continued to watch her with hilarity.

Arianna suddenly threw herself off the bed, hardly able to keep her balance as she stumbled away from it, chaotically swaying side to side as she hurryingly hobbled away, catching herself on the dresser – the same one, where she had found the blade. The knife slipped from her fingers and bounced across the floor with a shrill chime that echoed madly in Arianna's ears. "What have you done to me?" she panted, pressing most of her weight on the dresser; bowing her head to her chest.

"Me? Are you really blaming me for your mortal ailments? Did you forget, that it is a mortal's inconvenience to supply your body with enough food and water, daily? I doubt you have been getting your daily intake."

"You're… lying. What have you done?"

"You are delusional, my dear little lamb. Think about it. Why would I wish to poison your blood? It would prevent me from indulging it."

"F…fuck you." she muttered, shoving herself away from the dresser and attempting to rush away. She felt her head rattling and growing heavy. Her stomach pulled and twisted, with her throat a blazing dessert. She lost feeling in her arms; her legs.

With no other warning Arianna fell forward, plummeting towards the ground – expecting to greet it cruelly. Yet she greeted something else entirely. A force holding her above the ground, gripping gently onto her stomach and holding her torso. It heaved her back – it was a pair of arms, but not just any pair of arms, it was Harkon. Harkon had hold of her! He tugged her away from the ground and snappishly but tenderly lifted her to his torso, flipping her around so that he gript onto her back and legs. He held her limp body gently in his arms, with her body brushing against his chest. Her legs dangled beside his waist, with her head falling backwards. She was like a doll in his arms.

Holding her this close; having her so near, was intoxicating. Her rich smell engulfed him, and ensnared him in a hypnotic, ravenous trance. His eyes would not divert from her neck, stalking the vein that trailed down to her chest. There was something about her! Something that made her different. Something new!

With a shake of his head, Harkon snapped his head away and ambled towards the bed, gently placing Arianna down on it. He took in his scent for another time, brushing his finger across her vivid copper hair. He took a strand in his fingertips and twisted it – leaning his body down towards her, to inhale a deep wave of her delectable spiced scent. He lingered there for a moment, drunk on her honeyed, erotic perfume, before pulling away, and resting his eyes on her for another second.

In a flash he was gone, his movements undetectable and even unrecognisable. His swift movements were as quick as light, and could only be seen as a wave of shadow by the mortal naked eye. But he was back as rapid as he left, slipping onto the bed, and sitting beside Arianna, with his hand slipping under her neck.

As he lifted her up, Arianna's eyes fluttered open, with her face flooded with bewilderment. Harkon went to tip a glass to her mouth but she viciously went to jerk away, in a startled and muddled hostile manner. Harkon held her still, and continued to tip the glass to her. "Drink it," he ordered sternly, "as a mortal, you need water."

Arianna glanced at him, anxious to have him so near, with her lying vulnerably on the bed – hardly baring the energy to move. She reluctantly parted her lips, and allowed Harkon to press the cold glass to her mouth. The cold water flushing on her tongue and rushing down her throat was pleasing to her. She didn't realise how desperately she needed a drink.

"I'm surprised," Harkon chuckled, watching Arianna as she drank the water he tipped down her throat, "I didn't expect you to move out of bed, never mind rush around the way you did. After my bite, normally, you should have struggled to move out from where I left you. In fact, you are the first to survive my bite. Many others, waste away and perish as soon as I drop them to my feet."

Analysing her every move with his attentive, predacious eyes, Harkon hauled away the empty glass and chucked it to the floor. It did not crack nor shatter, but simply roll, before lightly hitting the stone slab of the balcony. Before Arianna could let a whisper escape her lip, Harkon brought his thumb to her bottom lip, smearing away the crystal water droplet that clung to her mouth.

"Why are you keeping me alive?" Arianna murmured, finding her gaze glued to his– the glowing depth to his burning eyes. There was something about him – something mysterious and superbly enticing. Any fear had flushed out of her. Maybe it was his consideration to keep her alive? Or the harmlessness of his actions? It was curious. There was something bewitching about him.

With a grin, he chuckled, "I think you know the answer to that, don't you?"

"Do you think that you can tame me, vampire?"

"Unquestionably."

"You're wrong."

"Am I?"

"You have no idea what type of girl I am- what I can do, and what I have done."

"And, you, my dear, cannot even imagine the things I have done, and will do to get my desires. Do you forget that I am a powerful vampire lord? I am death, and shadow and stealth and superiority. Nothing can stand in my way. Nothing can prevent me from attaining my desires."

"You don't scare me."

"I doubt that."

Arianna couldn't, and didn't, move away when Harkon craned his neck to shove his lips onto Arianna's. The taste of her luscious lips, was erotic and tingling for Harkon – tasting sweeter, with more sensuality than the last time their hungered lips met. He ran his hands through her hair, raking his fingers through her curling strands with his body shifting to perch over her.

His taste was something completely unique; sending shivers through Arianna's body. What was she doing? A part of her was screaming. She wanted to shove his weightily body off of her, and rush away like a child. But she didn't. The contemplations of how this was immoral clicked across her skull like an insect. She wasn't supposed to have her lips on a vampire for no apparent reason! She wasn't supposed to absorb the taste of him! She wasn't supposed to be doing anything but fight! So why was she doing this? It was if she was trapped in hypnotic spell. A treacherous trance.

Harkon continued to throw his tongue into her mouth, dancing it sensually around her tongue. He knew the thoughts that were racing through her mind – they were easy to guess, like reading a child's book. She was completely still beneath him, he noted – like ice. Motionless. But he knew, he knew that she was only battling with herself. Whenever she squeezed her eyes or trembled it was because to her, this was wrong – so dreadfully wrong.

His lips moved away from her mouth, and instead trailed down her neck, with his teeth ripping off the bandage from her skin. Arianna froze, a whimper erupting from her lips, but slowly, she started to relax into him, as he tenderly began to plaster her neck with stimulating kisses; flicking his tongue across her skin, in which Arianna bit down onto her lip – Harkon detected this, and chuckled as he swept his mouth back to her skin.

"I know you want this," he hummed, sending shivers up her spine, "I'm correct, am I not?"

He snickered, noting the way she fidgeted into the mattress; twisting a fist of the quilt in her hands. Her lips barred together tightly, with her head straining to focus on the headboard as Harkon stroked his tongue down to her chest. Slowly, he trailed his tongue up the centre of her neck, running up to her chin and back to her bottom lip, where he kissed and nipped the bottom of it lightly. He kissed her jaw line, and swept his hand down her waist and across her leg, - brushing his leg against her when his fingers ran through her hair.

Arianna could barely contain herself any longer, struggling to keep still beneath him. It was wrong, she knew that, but why? Why would she care? She had done a lot of things that she wasn't proud of her in her life, why was kissing a vampire back worse?

Unable to fight with herself anymore, Arianna roughly brought her hands to Harkon's head, cupping them around his skull as she pushed her lips against his, gasping in his mouth when his tongue moved across hers with such sensuality that it sent an ecstasy of shivers to rush up her spine.

The tremor of Harkon's low chuckles bounced in Arianna's mouth as their lips rammed against each other. Her hot skin was something erotic to Harkon. Her touch was like a blaze – fiery and dangerous. It made his sense come alive! It was something fresh, and thrillingly precarious!

The same screaming thoughts was pounding in Arianna's head as she welcomed Harkon's deep, touch – embracing the taste of him, the fiery hunger of his kisses and the stifling electricity of his embrace. What was she doing? By the eight, what the fuck was doing?