A/N's: I have adored reading your reviews and ideas on what the hell happened in Chapter 9. Only a few of you were spot on, so I hope this chapter answers any questions or puts to rest any doubts anybody else had.

My eternal love goes to AcrossTheSkyInStars for being my Beta, my friend and for letting me constantly email her for advice. Check out her entry for the SoS "Captive of a bartender" and her now completed fic "Last First Kiss". Hot stuff Baby!

Warning: This chapter contains extreme physical abuse and is rated M for a reason. If you are underage, you shouldn't be reading. If you are of a sensitive nature I can assure you the scenes are not of rape but can still be found to be disturbing.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer gave us the ingredients and I have loved mixing it up!

Ch10 Necromancy

As the night progressed and James slept fitfully, I stayed by the wall, watching his chest rise and fall and even occasionally pause for a moment too long.

I admitted to myself that I actually prayed for him to die. I would watch his ragged breaths and when he stilled my own breath would catch with the hope that his wouldn't start again.

I knew he was evil and that the acts he had committed made him unworthy of any empathy from anyone, but my Father had raised me with compassion and I felt shame that I was not acting like the daughter he had loved and known.

But there was nothing about this man that deserved a stir of emotion, no matter how small that feeling was. The Christian part of me that felt sorrow for his suffering was swiftly reminded by the cynical part of me of all the awful things he'd done and would continue to do when he was back to full health. And besides, my Father wasn't here and if he was, I told myself he would want this man to pay for what he'd done to me.

In coming here and leaving my family behind, I had also left behind any remnants of the young girl I used to be. So much had happened to me since I'd left home. I had found myself almost begging for mercy, food and water, and even a bath. I had lost my maidenhead to a man who didn't think twice about killing innocents, and I had fallen in love with a Vampire.

My Vampire.

My Edward.

As usual my thoughts went to him and I felt tears well in my eyes as I imagined him downstairs, alone and none the wiser to my current predicament.

I should've told him I loved him when I had the chance. Every moment with him was precious and even though I had convinced myself that it would change nothing for us, I realised now that it would change everything. Right now he was in love with me and wanted to protect me and I was the girl accepting his allegiance but we were still apart, loving each other from a distance. Despite how much I loathed James, and Edward knew this, I was still obliged to commit acts that made me feel like curling up and dying inside. To be honest with Edward would only hurt him more when I left him alone and went to James.

When I finally told Edward how much he meant to me too it would unite us, and even when we were separated, we'd still be joined in heart and soul. He would know that no matter where I was, I was his and he was mine.

But at this moment, I considered myself a fool and couldn't justify my reasons for staying quiet, and I regretted so deeply leaving that room without speaking up.

I let my silent tears fall as I watched James in his fitful slumber. I really hated him and I dreaded acting like I was on his side, but I had to do it, to get Edward back upstairs into his cell and near me again. I just didn't have a clue how I was going to initiate this conversation with James. With every hour that passed he roused from his slumber and stayed alert for slightly longer and I knew it wouldn't be long before he was fully awake.

He made my skin crawl, and as I sat I planned what I would say to him about Edward and Emmett, but each scenario brought up a new circumstance, a new twist that he could possibly throw at me because let's face it, James was lower than faeces, but he was also clever.

I'd watched him sweat and thrash on top of the blankets for hours until eventually the dawn light crept in through the glass, illuminating the room with a pink flush. Its glowing light reminded me of embers in a fire, bringing the dark it touched to life and I watched the small particles of dust dance and swirl in the rays penetrating the air around me. It seemed almost magical and for a moment I was lost in its calm.

But then a cramp would hit James and he'd bend and whimper until it passed; his mews rousing me from my daydreams. As the beads of sweat gathered in the hollow at his throat and his eyes squeezed even tighter shut with his discomfort, I took a small piece of pleasure in every second of his pain.

I thought of my Father again and a sudden wave of sympathy washed over me. I hated myself because I didn't want to feel sorry for him. I glanced up a few times to catch him with his eyes open, glaring at me. It petrified me at first but then his eyes glazed and his stare became vacant until his heavy lids closed and I found I could breathe again.

It was a few hours after dawn broke that James finally leant up on his elbows and opened his eyes completely. He lifted a shaky hand to wipe his mouth and then called out to the guard at the door.

When I had come to his room, Hale had stood watch, but the guard who entered was Crowley. "Sir?" He asked as he stood in the doorway.

James gulped but his mouth must have been too dry to swallow properly because his voice sounded raw. "Water, I need water."

Crowley walked to the dresser and finding the pitcher empty, left to fetch a refill.

"I could've gotten that for you," I said softly.

"Like Hell you could!" James spat, "I'll be damned if I let you near anything that needs to pass my lips again."

"Excuse me?"

"What did you do to me?" James was exhausted and his words were punctuated by his irregular breaths.

"I – nothing – I didn't do anything," I stuttered.

"You fucking – bitch," James lost breath on the last word and dropping back onto the bed, he groaned and broke out into a sweat again. "I know it was you!"

Before I could plead my innocence, Crowley came back in, and pouring a glass of water he approached the bed. "Help me?" He asked and I complied.

James's skin was so pale and clammy. Sitting beside his head I raised him up and leant him against my chest so Crowley could pour the glass. James gulped greedily and sputtered some water from his mouth over his chin as he swallowed. I could smell vomit on his breath and it made me heave but I had to stay holding him, so I breathed through my mouth and averted my face.

Crowley stepped back and James gripped my wrist. I was surprised at his sudden display of strength considering how ill he had been for the last few hours. "Get me some food," he instructed Crowley and watched as he left the room, still not releasing my arm. "My shirt," he whispered, "help me with it." His grip tightened and I nodded. Standing I leant over him and carefully unbuttoned his shirt. I lifted his arms free and tugged the damp clothing from beneath his back.

"Open the window," he said and I walked over and swung it free of its lock. The breeze entering the room was delightful and I gulped down a lung full of fresh air, not realising how stale the room had become until the sweet scent of autumn wafted in the opening. The trees outside were burnished with red and gold and the leaves danced, hanging on tightly to the branches swinging back and forth with the wind. The courtyard below James's rooms was alive with colour, and I stared for a moment at the beauty of the gardens, lost for just a brief time in the world outside this prison.

"I know it was you," James mumbled and I turned slowly to face him. He didn't say anything else for a minute, just stared at me and I stared back, wide eyed and afraid of this man. He was sick and lying in his bed; he required help with his clothing and to take a drink, and yet looking at him from across the room, every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. He completely terrified me.

"James, I –" I shook my head and fought back tears; I didn't have the energy to defend myself all over again with him but what if he sentenced me to death? He hadn't hesitated when he'd sent Lauren to the gallows and I had no doubt he wouldn't think twice about deciding my fate.

Crowley knocked and entered, and behind him was Mary Alice carrying a tray with bread and soup. I opened my mouth to greet her but she moved her head the tiniest amount to signal me to stay quiet. I didn't know why but I didn't push her, she was probably just as afraid for her own life as I was for mine.

Crowley helped James sit up, propped by pillows, and Mary Alice moved closer to lay the tray across his lap, all the while averting my eyes. Stepping back, keeping her head lowered, Mary Alice awaited further instruction.

"You may leave," James coughed, signalling both Mary Alice and Crowley. I tried again to catch Mary Alice's eye as she left but she was non committal and exited without a word.

"Come here," James said and I did. "Feed me?" His voice dropped an octave and I glanced up at him quickly, wary by his tender tone. I didn't trust this man.

"But you just said –" I started to argue but instead of the anger I'd expected from him, he smiled.

"Well, if I get sick again, we'll know for sure it was you, won't we?"

I stared at him, unsure of what to say. I prayed as I spooned broth into his open mouth, that the cramps had ceased and James would remain in good health. How different from my thoughts of only an hour ago.

"It wasn't me," I said quietly.

"Is it possible you just don't know the strength of your powers, Isabella?"

"It was not me," I stated again, punctuating every word.

"I don't believe you," he returned. Pointing to his jacket laying on a chair across the room he motioned for me to fetch it. I handed it to him and commenced spoon feeding him. When he was done, he pushed the tray aside and rummaged in a pocket, withdrawing a silver necklace and pendant. I couldn't see the design on the jewellery as he kept it tucked in his palm.

"I want you to close your eyes and hold this for me," he said. "I want you to tell me what you can see."

I frowned at his words, what was he talking about? "I don't understand," I admitted.

"What did I say?"

"You told me to hold the necklace and tell you what I can see."

"And exactly what part of that do you not understand?"

I gulped. James was getting his strength back and with it, his impatience. I was annoying him.

"I don't know what you expect from me."

"Just hold it," he said opening his palm. I reached out tentatively and took the pendant in my hand. Its touch was immediately cold, freezing actually, and I wondered how this could be when it had been hidden in his coat. I shuddered and he noticed, smiling he told me to close my eyes.

I shifted the pendant in my hand as its temperature felt uncomfortable to me; in fact, it felt so cold I worried it would stick to the palm of my hand. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply but nothing came to pass.

"What do you feel?" He asked me.

I shook my head, "Nothing, nothing at all."

"You're not concentrating Isabella. Try again."

With my eyes still shut I took a deep breath and concentrated. I felt the cold metal in the palm of my hand, and I wondered at its origins. No sooner had I thought it, I pictured a woman. She was small in height and had the most shocking orange hair I had ever seen. She was slight in frame and stunning, her pale skin displayed small pink cheeks and lips as red as a rose bud. Her body was turned to profile but her face was toward me. She was dressed in a wedding dress and she smiled. "James –" she whispered; her voice sounded melodic and clear, like she was in the room.

I gasped as James slapped my hand, knocking the pendant from my grasp, and I realised the voice had come from me, but its tone wasn't mine. As I opened my eyes, he drew back his hand and slapped me; hard.

My head snapped back with the force of his aggression and I tumbled off the side of the bed, landing on all fours on the floor.

"WITCH!" He screamed at me. I shook my head to clear it; I was dazed and confused, I had no idea what had just transpired. James was above me, gripping my hair and pulling my head back, he snarled in my ear. "Witch."

I clutched at his hands, trying to ease the pain on my scalp. He tugged and pulled me to my feet. Pushing, he flung me down on the bed.

I sobbed and blinked rapidly, trying to clear my blurry vision. James stumbled slightly and hit the bedside table with his hip. Steadying himself with his hand he slumped onto the bed beside me.

"James –" I began, not even knowing what I wanted to say.

"How dare you!" He said, looking down at the floor and not at me. The necklace lay at his feet but he made no move to retrieve it. I lay there, breathing deeply but otherwise unmoving, and waited.

It seemed like a lifetime before he spoke again. "How did you do that?" He asked.

I shook my head, I had no idea.

"What did you see?"

I stayed silent, if I told him the truth I was sure to be burnt at the stake, he had his proof and I couldn't deny it. I didn't believe it made me a witch, but my opinion didn't really matter.

"Isabella," he said softly, and turning his head to look at me, he asked again. "What did you see?"

I swallowed past the lump in my throat but said nothing. Standing, he quietly walked over to the other side of the bed, and picking up his jacket he unsheathed a small knife. I leapt off the bed and tried to run for the door but despite being ill, he was faster than me and grabbed a fist full of my hair. Yanking, he pulled me back against his chest and pressed the blade to my throat. "What the fuck did you see?" He asked through gritted teeth.

I started sobbing, begging him to spare me. I couldn't tell him anything, if I did I was doomed.

He pressed the blade into my skin and I felt warmth trickle down to my cleavage. I cried harder, knowing he had cut me.

"If I press in any further, I will lacerate your windpipe," I swallowed and felt the knife shift with the motion. "Now, tell me what you saw."

"A g – girl," I hiccupped between sobs. I couldn't catch my breath.

"What did she look like?"

I cried again but his response was to just press the blade in deeper and this time I felt the scratch as it perforated my skin. The first cut had been a surface wound, this one felt worse.

"Red hair," I screamed, "she had red hair."

James released his hold on me and stepping back he told me to lie down. I clutched at my throat, desperate to stem the bleeding, but impatient, he screamed at me. "I said lie the fuck down!"

I did as he commanded with my hand still at my throat. The flow spread over my fingers but I calmed a little when I saw it wasn't life threatening. I closed my eyes and thanked whoever was listening for sparing me, although I was sure my nightmare was nowhere near over.

I opened my eyes to see him unbutton his trousers, and sliding his hand inside he pulled out his cock. He was hard and I felt sick at this man perversions. Threatening me and wounding me had only aroused him and now he needed release.

"I don't want you touching me," he said, stroking himself slowly from base to tip and back down again. "You are full of sorcery and may curse me. I have no wish for that." He laughed, but I found nothing about this conversation amusing. "You also smell a little strange to me, different than usual and I'm not sure a bath would cleanse it. This seems to be seeping from your pores and quite frankly, Isabella, it repels me!" He tightened his grip on his dick and carried on pumping it, spreading his legs slightly he let his head fall to the side and opening his mouth he groaned. "But I do like to look at you."

I averted my eyes, feeling nausea overwhelm me.

"Look at me," he said and I had no choice but to obey. "Why do you smell and taste different?"

I closed my eyes again as he started to thrust his hips in time with his hand, meeting the descent of his palm with the ascent of his groin. "Why?" He demanded.

"I don't know," I whispered.

"You have a scar on your neck," he stated and I lifted my hand to finger the cut he had made. "Not there," he said and I looked at him, too quickly, eyes too wide as I realised he'd seen Edward's bite mark.

"Ahhh, Edward." He laughed and then walked closer to the bed. "Has my Vampire finally eaten? I'm surprised you've not changed or died." He shrugged as if the latter thought didn't matter to him. "He did bite you, yes?"

I contemplated lying to him but he had seen the mark, he was no fool. I nodded, keeping my fingers pressed to my neck.

"But he didn't kill you and he didn't change you." He thought on that for a moment while he moved his fingers around his erection and then he smiled at me, a lazy, half smile and I felt my stomach pitch. "We'll discuss this later, but for now untie your bodice," he spoke quietly and I fumbled with the laces, unable to loosen the knot Edward had fastened. Reaching down he picked up the knife and before I could react he threaded the blade under the laces and lifted, slicing them apart; my breasts tumbling free from their confines.

He bent down to place the knife at his feet and when he stood I noticed the pendant hanging from his fingers. He wrapped the necklace twice around his balls, and tugging on it he moaned then leant against the bed frame with just his knees and worked his hand along his length a little faster. His eyes remained on my nipples and his lips parted as he breathed deeper and pumped faster and tugged harder on the binds around himself; I just lay there, thankful his hands weren't on me.

"Touch your-self," he moaned as his hand gripped tighter and moved faster.

I shook my head and cried. "No."

"Fucking touch your-self!" He screamed, and sobbing I lifted my hands and placed them over my breasts. I didn't need to do anything else, that small motion was enough for him and grunting the name "Victoria," his sperm hit my dress in a vertical line from my lap up to the ruined laces.

He lowered his head and shuddered, holding himself in the palm of his hand; a few minutes passed before he moved. Untying the necklace from his scrotum, he perched himself on the end of the bed.

I watched him breathing deeply. "Who is Victoria?" I asked.

He responded by slapping me again, his palm stinging my other cheek, the resounding clap reverberating round the room. I clutched at my face, tears streaming from my eyes.

"Never say her name to me again!" He hissed.

"Can I go back downstairs now?" I asked tentatively, still crying.

"You prefer a cold cell to this?" He gestured round the room and then over his body; grinning he lay down beside me and threw an arm over his eyes.

"Yes," I finally answered.

"Really? Why?"

"Because you terrify me," I confessed. "And disgust me."

"That's what I like about you, Isabella, your honesty." He sat up and put himself away; fastening his trousers he indicated my ruined dress. "Take that off."

I stared at him, wide eyed and disbelieving. Could he really go again, so soon?

"Why must I say everything to you twice?" He sighed and stood. Walking over to a closet, he opened the door and stepped aside. Behind him I could see a line of gowns hanging from the rail, a multitude of colour and fabric. He ran his hand over each and stopped at a simple white dress. It had no petticoats or sleeves. It fell to the floor in a plain drape with no intricate cut and despite its modest design, I agreed with his choice.

I stood and covered my breasts with my hands. My ripped dress fell to the floor and I was left naked. James had taken my underwear from me the first day I had arrived here and I'd been given no replacement ever since.

Smiling and sweeping his eyes over my body, he held out the dress in his hand but made no move forward; it was up to me to advance. I walked over and took it from him but before I could blink his arms encircled my waist and he tugged me closer. Pressing his face into my neck, he inhaled then licked me. I pressed my hands against his chest and tried to create some distance. He released me.

I covered my nakedness with the dress and rubbed at the saliva on my neck. He chuckled and spat onto the floor.

"Yes, you really do taste disgusting." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pointed to the bathroom. "Sort your-self out," he said and turned his back as I practically ran and slammed the door shut behind me.

Sliding to the floor, with my back pressed against the cold wood, I sobbed into my hands, pushing the dress aside, not wanting to soil it with my grubby hands and tears. I stayed like that for such a long time, vaguely aware of voices from beyond the door as people came and went from James's room. I had no idea who they were or what they wanted, I just remained hidden, hoping to be forgotten.

The cold eventually gave me no choice but to move, and so I made my way over to the fireplace and ladled some hot water into the wash bowl. Taking a cloth from the pile beside the basin, I wet it and wiped it gently across my neck. The water and cloth tinged pink with the remnants of my blood and I emptied it on to the coals and refilled the bowl with more fresh water which I used to wash my face and armpits, crotch and feet. When I was satisfied I had done all I could with the small amount available to me, I picked up the dress and pulled it over my head. The bodice twisted over my breasts and the waist was high, leaving the skirt to fall in abundance to my feet. I felt feminine and clean in the gown but I worried James would forget his new found repugnance with me, and take advantage.

I walked over to the door and listened for sounds from the other room. I could hear mumbles but nothing coherent. Opening it slightly, I heard the voices clearer.

"You promised me his head!" It was Rosalie and once again, she was inebriated.

"Yes, my love, I did, but you must know he has something I need and although he deserves to be punished, I couldn't kill him."

He couldn't kill him because to kill Edward would be impossible, but James didn't tell Rosalie this truth for he needed her to believe him capable of anything.

"I hate him, I want him to suffer," she sobbed.

"What would you like me to do?" He placated her.

"Bring him up from the dungeon and let him witness her suffering!" She spat vehemently. "I want him to suffer like Ava and I, but nothing seems to affect him except her. Let him see her in pain."

Despite Rosalie's words, I was thankful, for unbeknown to her she had played into our hands and made the request I had been finding so difficult to approach. There just hadn't been the opportunity to lie to him and pretend I knew the truth behind Emmett's demise, but Rosalie had walked in and aided me.

Her threats didn't scare me, not right now at least. I knew later when James made it known what he had in store for me, I would be petrified. But at that moment, I was just happy she'd brought up the subject of Edward.

"You really are an evil bitch," James chuckled and I peeked through the gap to see him lift her face with his finger. As her head moved, her eyes flashed across the bathroom doorway and I knew she'd seen me hiding, yet she didn't mention it to James. He leaned in and kissed her neck and she moaned, letting her head fall back, allowing him further access.

I stepped back and pressed the door quietly closed, waiting for their intimacy to pass. I did not want to be in the room with them during that.

I heard groans and furniture move and then a gasp; I could only imagine their moment had progressed further. It wasn't long before I heard skin slapping against skin and Rosalie calling out to James as his body impacted with hers.

"Isabella," he grunted and I stiffened, I'd hoped he'd forgotten about me but it wasn't so. "Isabella!" He demanded and I reluctantly opened the door and stepped into the room.

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled, keeping my head lowered.

"Watch me fuck this bitch," he groaned.

I had no idea why he would want an audience, but when it came to James and his sexual appetite he was of a more lewd nature and I had learnt not to question or disobey him. I lifted my head to witness Rosalie on all fours; she was naked and her breasts had fallen down towards the bed, pulled by gravity. James's hands were at her hips, and as he pulled back I could see his cock slide out from her and then plunge back in again. Her breasts swayed back and forth with the motion.

I didn't want to watch, but if this was all he required of me, I would try to comply. He pulled his dick fully out of her and she whimpered, but he patted her bottom, and licking his fingers he spread the saliva over the head of his penis and then opening her butt cheeks slightly he entered her again but this time in a different orifice. She groaned with the sheer size of him, because that hole was not designed for this purpose, and despite his desires her muscles contracted around him, automatically trying to push him out.

He relished in the feel of her, tight and warm, and as he slowly pushed himself inside, I could see every inch of him disappearing into her flesh.

He began to fuck her and I closed my eyes and turned my head. What was the purpose of my being here? It served no one and nothing, just watching and waiting. All I wanted was to be free of this room, for it had surely become my own personal hell.

He ground himself into her harder and harder and I heard Rosalie whimper.

"Look at me," James demanded again and I peeled my eyes open and rested my gaze on his face. I tried not to look anywhere else but as he thrust into her, his hands gripping her flesh, his lips pursed as his groin connected with her backside, I couldn't help but look down at where their bodies joined.

As my eyes fell on them, he gasped and stilled, filling her with his release.

He pulled himself out of her carefully, sighing and chuckling as his dick popped free. He was still erect and he glistened with their mutual secretions. I could see a small droplet of semen gathering on his tip, and to my utter disgust he wiped it with his finger, then putting his finger to his mouth, he licked it clean.

"You look very pretty," he smiled and walked past me to the bathroom; as he walked by he reached out and caressed my breast before closing the door.

Rosalie lay down on her back and stretched her arms above her head. I stood where I was, just watching her.

"Don't look at me like that," she hissed and sat up, glaring at me.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like I make you sick," she said, burying her head in her hands. "I don't blame you, I make myself sick."

"Then why do this?" I whispered.

"I have my reasons," she said quietly, "I just can't explain them. Not yet."

I walked over to the bed and sat beside her. "You don't need to say anymore. But Rosalie, I have to ask, why do you hate me so much?"

"Who says I hate you?"

"Well, you told James to punish me to get to Edward. You can't say something like that and feel compassion for me."

"Then I guess that means I hate you," she stated. Standing, she walked around the room, picking up her clothes and without even dressing she glanced at me once from over her shoulder, opened the door, and stepped outside into the hall.

I watched her leave and wished I could exit this room so easily. I waited for James to finish in the bathroom. He took his time but eventually re-emerged with his hair loose and hanging round his face and shoulders, darkened from water. He ran his hand through the length and pushed it away from his eyes. He was wearing only his trousers, which hung low on his hips, the slight rise of bone the only thing holding them up. His bare chest displayed toned muscles and smooth skin. He was a handsome man and he had stability and standing within the community, if he so desired he could be whatever he wanted. But James was high on power and he didn't care who he hurt, because all he wanted was to win.

"I'm going to send you back to your cell, Isabella, but before you start to look quite pleased with the prospect I should warn you, there may be consequences."

"Consequences for what?" I hated him.

Walking over to the bed, James held his hand out for me. I placed my palm in his and he pulled me to my feet. I was standing so close to him I could smell the soap on his skin.

"I want you to stay here with me, Isabella. I wasn't lying when I said I could love you but I know how you feel about me. I can't say I blame you, I have acted abhorrently but for you, I could change."

"You're incapable of change and you're incapable of love, I don't believe you know how to."

"I've loved before," he said softly, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand.

"How can you say you could feel for me then treat me this way?"

"Because you're dangerous and I need to keep you in your place."

"Is that what you're doing with Edward? Keeping him in his place?"

"Let's not talk about him. I want to talk about us."

"There is no us."

"There could be. That's what I'm requesting of you, to stay here with me. I could treat you like a queen Isabella, we could harness your power, teach you how to adapt it and together we could be happy. I want to be happy."

"You said there would be consequences; does that mean there's another choice for me?"

"There's always a choice."

"What's mine?"

"You stay here with me and I will take care of you but you'll never see or speak to Edward Cullen again."

"Or –"

He smiled, moving his hand to my chin, tilting my face up towards his, "or you go back to your cell and accept whatever treatment befalls you. You won't be happy, Isabella, but at least you'll be able to look upon your precious Vampire as the both of you pray for the speedy release of death. Because I swear, if you choose him, I will ensure that every day of your miserable life, you will wish you were dead!"

"You're asking me to choose between heaven and hell?"

He nodded, his eyes flickering to my lips. I held my breath as he lowered his head and pressed his lips to mine. He was soft and unlike Edward, warm, but I felt nothing as his tongue swept out and tasted me. I kept my mouth closed tight, not surrendering to his kiss, just waiting for it to pass.

He finally raised his head, and with hooded eyes, looked at me, his finger still holding my chin.

"Yes," he replied, "heaven or hell."

"I choose heaven," I whispered and watched his face break out into a grin. He looked triumphant. I stepped backwards and turning, I walked to door.

"Isabella, where are you going?"

I stared at the door as I answered him. "Back to my cell." I heard him move to stand directly behind me. He grabbed my shoulders and spun me round to face him.

"What? But you said –"

"I said heaven, James."

"Yes," he nodded.

"And that means Edward because no matter the path that leads me to him, he will always be heaven compared to even a second with you. You are my living hell!"

His eyes narrowed and his breath hitched, and I waited for him to take a swing at me. He didn't move, but instead of feeling relief for him not hitting me, I felt a shiver of fear run down my spine.

"You will regret those words, Witch," he promised me and walking to the door he called Crowley into the room. He whispered something to the guard and then stepping past me he walked over to his cabinet. "Get out of my room!" He spat at me and lifting his decanter he held it out to Crowley, "and fetch me some fresh wine. That bitch has tainted mine!"

Crowley took the bottle, then my arm and led me from the room. I walked with my head held high, down the hall, back to my cell, back to my haven.

When I reached the cell, Crowley and another guard I didn't know, pulled me to the chains hanging from the ceiling again. Turning me to face the wall and not the cell doors, Crowley dragged the dress from my shoulders and let it rest at my waist; I was bare-chested and cold.

They lifted my hands and chained my wrists. Nobody spoke, the silence was deafening. I heard a crack split the atmosphere and jumped, frantically turning my head to try to see what was happening. Out of the corner of my eye I spied a crop in the hands of the guard. He flicked his wrist again and the whip flew out and cracked in the air.

Oh my God.

I felt sick and faint and squeezed my eyes shut, praying for something or somebody to help me.

The guard raised his hand behind me and without hesitation swept the crop across my back.

The sound was sensed before the pain; it took seconds for my skin to react and when it did, it was excruciating. I cried out as the whip heated my pelted flesh but before I could catch my breath, he cracked the whip again and the pain hit, adding new torture to the dulling ache of the first.

My knees buckled beneath me but the chains held me up, in place, unable to flee.

"Edward!" I screamed and sobbed his name over and over again. I didn't believe he could come for me, I didn't believe he could help, but I needed a balm for this persecution. He was all I could think about through the blinding agony of each stroke.

I wept, breathless sobs as he thrashed me over and over again, and just when I thought I couldn't take anymore the sway of the crop ceased and the next crack I heard was not as loud, nor terrifying but muted and almost fleshy. It happened a second time and I waited, again to feel the heat from the guard's weapon but all that followed was the heavy thud of things hitting the floor.

I was slumped in the chains, no weight on my legs; the pain tearing into my back was all consuming.

"Please –" I begged, "please."

No one replied at first and I dropped my head forward, believing them to have gone. My hair was hanging down my back and sticking to the blood seeping from my wounds. I was unable to pull it away as I was unable to move, so I stayed hanging there, just feeling.

Moments passed and suddenly I felt a cold hand touch my back, as if anticipating my last thought, it carefully scooped my hair up in a bundle and lifted it over my shoulder, away from the abrasions. He breathed on me and the chilly air he exhaled momentarily numbed the pain. Amidst the coppery scent of blood that fragranced the cell, I smelt him. His sweet perfume was intoxicating and as I inhaled, I cried his name.

"Edward," my voice broke; my throat was raw but all I cared about was the fact that he'd come.

Without saying a word, he reached up and snapped the chains in two, leaving the wrist cuffs attached but my arms free of the ceiling and I collapsed into his embrace.

Edward cradled me against his chest and smoothed the tears and sweat from my face, the coldness of his skin soothed and I lay there sobbing, a concoction of complete despair and exhilaration that he'd rescued me.

I opened my eyes and looked up at him and wished I hadn't. If my face was a mirror of emotions, Edward's a myriad, agony being paramount. It was as if the guards had beaten him to a pulp and not me, and I reached out my hand to touch his beautiful face.

"Where are they?" I croaked.

Edward closed his eyes and turned his face into my palm. I watched the torture cross his face and then looking beyond his arms, I saw them.

Crowley and the guard were lying in a heap by the door. Their bodies limp and necks broken. The lifeless eyes of Crowley stared unseeing at the back of Edward's head and I wondered if they had even known what hit them.

Yet I didn't care. I was glad they were dead, but as blackness threatened to consume me I wondered how we could ever hide this from James. Edward had answered my prayers and kept to his promise that he would try to stop any harm befalling me again but in doing so, had he possibly just sealed our fate?

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"You came," I cried, "that's all that matters."

"I should've been here sooner."

"How...?" I winced as the pain cut through my sentence and I closed my eyes to brace myself until it passed.

"Bella, I'm going to help you but I need you to lie very still, do you promise?"

I nodded, unable to form the words. I didn't care what he needed me to do I just wanted to feel nothing.

Lifting me in his arms Edward draped me forward and then turned me so I was face down on the floor. I cringed as my back throbbed with the movement but held as still as I could, like Edward had asked me to.

I felt his hands settle on either side of my body and his breath as it fanned out over my skin, then his lips touched me and I yelped as the venom on his tongue took over the sting of the welts. It burned and I silently begged him to stop.

How was this helping? It hurt even more.

But Edward didn't cease his ministrations, he lapped at my skin and cleansed away the blood drying and sticking to the surface. Sometime after he'd begun, the sting of the venom dulled and started to act like an anaesthetic; the pain faded until eventually all I could feel was the tightness of my lacerated skin.

I lay perfectly still till he was done, then gently turning me, Edward cradled me in his arms and kissed my forehead.

"Thank you," I said quietly as I was finally able to breathe without suffering.

"Don't thank me," he murmured, "thank Rosalie."

"Why Rosalie?" I asked.

"She let me out," Edward replied. "She said you needed me." He gathered me closer and kissed my face all over. "I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner, Bella, I'm so sorry."

I didn't reply for sleep was pulling me in. I drifted on his words and fell into dark dreams where a gold haired beauty set a trap, and like a fool I fell into it, over and over again.

End A/N's: The Summer of Smut voting has commenced. My entry "Free from desire" can be found on my profile page or over at the Summer of Smut community. When visiting the community to read the entries, don't forget to change the rating from T to M to show all entries. To vote you need to click on "Manager – Summer of Smut" and it will take you to the voting page. I will be eternally grateful if you read my entry and considered voting for me :o)

If you're a facebook user, look for a group called "FanFicAholics Anon" we pimp our own fic's as well as our favourites so there's plenty of recommendations there for the avid reader. I'm on the admin so join up and come and chat.

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