A.N.: Thank you so much for all the reviews! I suppose we all needed a Tuesday pick-me-up! This chapter: the repercussions of torture. PTSD. And some Giulijah smut, because, why not?!

Dangerous Beauty

36

The 'L' Word

The contents of the trunk and the mystery of its concealment gave Giulia an unhealthy outlet through which to pour all her considerable mental faculties, rather than confront what the werewolves had done to her.

She was a master at concealing her emotions, her pain; but her behaviour at home was her tell. Outsider, she kept it together; with what they had going on, everything they anticipated, she had no option but to keep going. But at home, she was suffering. Elijah didn't need a degree in psychology and profiling to see Giulia was, whether she acknowledged it or not, suffering from PTSD.

Sleepless, restless, she never turned her back to the windows or door, seeing things in the shadows, jumpy, going deathly pale and almost catatonic as she sat on the study floor in her t-shirt and underwear, Firenze purring on her shoulders, tail switching idly, nuzzling her ear and neck affectionately, sensing her inner-turmoil and pain, hands shaking as she pulled her silver headphones on, her homework and projects and the contents of the old Louis Vuitton trunk spilling over the polished parquet floor, illuminated by a few lamps at three a.m., the shadows darkening under her eyes like bruises as the sun started to rise, memorising the contents of neat leather journals, poring over vintage photograph-albums, looking confused as she read old letters and grimoires and recognising her own handwriting, on vellum envelopes of seeds, and the annotations in paperback novels.

Finally, he'd had enough. He didn't dare go through the contents of the trunk and boxes, just the look on Giulia's face as she had gone through that first handful of photographs told him that it was none of his business, that Giulia was confused by it. But that didn't stop him moving the trunk out of Giulia's reach. He had had enough of trying to coax her away from it and talk to him; so he hid the trunk.

"You hid – you have no right to do that!" Giulia gasped, staring.

"I have every right, when I'm concerned you're using its contents to avoid having to face what the werewolves did to you," Elijah said fairly. "Giulia, you were tortured."

"And Sheila healed me," Giulia said, with a bite, not meeting his eye.

"No-one can go through what you did without it having an effect," Elijah said gently, "not even you."

"I'm fine–"

"You are not!"

"Don't – tell me how I feel!"

"I'm not – I'm telling you how I feel!" Elijah said shakily. "I have to watch you, in pain, not knowing how to handle it, not – not letting me in… You were there for me, in a way no-one else has ever dared be. I have never shared those memories with anyone… Seeing you in that chair broke my heart. Please don't push me away… You don't always have to be the protector; please let me be here for you."

"I don't – The only person I…" Giulia blurted, biting her tongue, her eyes full of frustrated emotion, and her voice was thick with it when she shuddered a gasp: "I want my dad, Elijah. And I can't have him; he's gone. Because of Damon, and Stefan protecting Elena, and I was hurt; and they're still protecting Elena. And I'm on my own, because of them; because of Damon. And they don't care… I am working things out, Elijah, it may not be the way you want or the order, but I am. I'm letting go of the relationship I used to have with Damon. I'm not an innocent little girl who doesn't see the bad things; I'm too disillusioned by him to ever be able to go back to the person he wanted me to stay like forever. It upset me that he doesn't care about me anymore; but I don't need him, not the way he needs Stefan. So they can have each other; they can have Elena. I'm not going to let it upset me that they prefer her; it's their mistake to lose this time with me."

Elijah gazed at her, frowning gently. Her relationship with Damon and Stefan had been fractious since he had known her; it had devolved to toleration rather than friendship. Now, it was live and let live; Giulia didn't seem to care about being actively involved in their lives at all. That was her decision, her self-preservation, and he couldn't help feel there was a subtle lesson in that for him.

"And…what the werewolves did to you?" he asked hesitantly.

"I took it as an excellent time to learn who my true friends are," Giulia said softly, after a moment's thought. Caroline Forbes' friendship, he knew instinctively, would never be questioned; as much as she claimed she didn't need Stefan or Damon as her family, she had willingly put herself in harm's way, fighting despite the odds, conquering what was about her strength, to protect her friend. If Giulia was diagnosed on the autistic spectrum, he wasn't surprised she had bonded even more deeply with Caroline while the rest of her life crumbled around her.

"You know Stefan and Damon didn't kill the alpha?" he said carefully.

"I know; Mason got back into town that afternoon," Giulia sighed, shrugging slightly. "It's better he was there settling things with that Brody guy rather than helping me. He's helped all of us by dealing with the alpha."

"We did not manage to scare them all off," Elijah murmured, and sighed heavily, drawing Giulia to him by her waist, coaxing her to put her arms around him.

"I'm not worried about a slut," Giulia sighed softly. The only werewolf foolish enough to stay in Mystic Falls was the pretty, younger one Giulia had nicknamed the 'party favour'. "Mystic Falls is pretty, it's affluent, there are few vampires, and it's surrounded by woods, of course it appeals." He knew Sheriff Forbes had impounded the vehicles belonging to the now-dead werewolves; he and Giulia had discussed the unlikelihood Jules would get far, having fled Mystic Falls. Werewolves were a rare breed.

"If she stays and gets killed, that's not on me," Giulia said softly. "She was warned to leave."

His own misgivings and Giulia's suspicion had drawn them together, for the first time working with rather than against each other. The game had changed; lines had been drawn. Alliances had not so much shifted as solidified; arguments had shaken foundations, feathers had been ruffled, egos bruised, and Elijah was proud to have Giulia as his ally. When push came to shove, she placed her faith in him.

And that meant more to him than she could ever know.

She was not a breathless acolyte starving or his attention; she was not concealing her duplicity, using him for her own means. Giulia was herself. Brilliant, courageous. Devoted to those she cared about, making it no secret her motivations differed from his; appreciating he had his own reasons for putting her friends in danger; but not believing he was capable, even after what Elijah now knew of him, to kill his brother And disagreeing with him that it was best to do so.

But they both knew theirs was the strongest alliance. His past, and her brilliance gave them an indisputable advantage; as did their dissociation from Elena Gilbert. They could do whatever was necessary, without guilt, to achieve their ends – and now, because of her newfound freedom from emotional ties or loyalty to Damon, Stefan or Elena, Giulia could act without regard for their feelings, their approval, and seeking none; she was doing this because she could, and she cared about him. People could think of Giulia as arrogant for manoeuvring the sacrifice to her favour without any emotional attachment to the people involved; she was loyal to the memory of her friendship with Elena, and that was enough to keep her interested in pulling the strings, shaping the future. It wasn't just that she enjoyed; she did. But she was also…a very generous, unselfish person, courageous and loyal to a fault.

But she was still struggling; and she wouldn't let him in.

And that hurt, because he knew why. He knew Giulia. And no matter how much she wanted to enjoy him, lived in the moment with him, accepted but did not dwell on the inevitable tragedy of their separation, he knew she wouldn't let herself rely on him. And that was a horrible thing to know.

As much as he loved her, for her own self-preservation she would never truly let him in. And that broke his heart more than witnessing her torture, powerless to help her; he wanted to…to be the one she turned to, her partner in all things…he realised how futile that was. Giulia was mortal; she resolutely avoided any possibility of turning into a vampire; and so she could not join him. Nor would he truly want her to. He wanted her to live. To have divine adventures; to love; to grow; to enjoy a family of her own; he could offer her only danger. The prospect of an existence defined by his sadistic, lying murderer of a brother. The sacrifice was but a taste of what Niklaus was capable of; they both knew he was lurking in the shadows, waiting, stalking. Because that was what he did; there was no-one who understood Niklaus' tactics better than Elijah, only in this game Elijah had the advantage. He had Giulia. And she was glorious.

Her recent trauma had only served to sharpen her already devastating brilliance; she used her intellect as a shield, the way Elijah used his skills as an artist, carpenter, jeweller, a lover of music to create things. Giulia used her schoolwork and research to push aside the memories she could not face, and the sacrifice, the game. When it was over, when she had to relax…that was when it would truly hit her, if she kept going on this way. It was her intellect that protected Giulia; not him. She could always rely on her own brilliance: Mind over mind.

She devolved, though, day by day; what the werewolves had done to her, combined with no acknowledgement of it by people who should have protected her – Damon, Stefan – continued to scar her mind, affecting her more than she realised. Only he was close enough to notice; it was the only way she trusted him to be relied on. She allowed herself to be vulnerable around him, to be frustrated and confused and overwhelmed by what she didn't understand, upset and distracted and physically ill from what had been done to her, on edge, jumpy, tearful at four a.m. after a sleepless night, jolting awake in a cold-sweat after reliving the same nightmare, finding her father's dead body by the cellar-door in the Boarding House – the same place she hadn't brought herself to set foot inside since she was tortured there. If that wasn't an indication of how she felt about the whole incident; she wouldn't she wouldn't go into the library even for the books. Elijah had cleaned up in the mess, hidden away the scrawny wolf for a lingering death, and taken the ruined rug to be incinerated; the bodies, he had dumped in the tomb with Katerina. Giulia hadn't asked what happened after Sheila healed her; and Elijah hadn't told her.

To say Alaric Saltzman was angry and concerned that Giulia had been tortured, and was romantically entangled with Elijah, was an understatement; he wondered which upset him more. In his mind, either way Giulia was in danger.

He turned on the light, chasing away the meagre dawn light gently kissing the room; Giulia jumped, her eyes glazed and bloodshot with desperate exhaustion, Firenze glanced over, purring from her shoulders, and Giulia pulled her silver headphones off one ear.

"The nightmare again?" he asked gently. If it wasn't discovered her father's dead body, she relived the night Tyler Lockwood had turned; or the night she realised Caroline Forbes had been murdered; or the night he had been murdered. She carried his trauma with her. During her waking hours, Giulia blocked what she could not handle; it leaked into her dreams, trapping her in nightmares. The venom had plucked at the scar; her torture had sliced open the wound, and her psyche was warring for control, to heal, to face what she had to for her own survival.

"I can't close my eyes," she said hoarsely, her hands shaking as she raised them to her head, Firenze dipping his head curiously, nuzzling her hand. She scratched his head distractedly, looking desperate and delirious, small photographs, lettered envelopes, journals, sheet-music and grimoires spread around her. Elijah sighed, padding into the room, barefoot, and squatted down behind her, hands on her waist.

"Did you leave the house earlier?"

"I went for a run," Giulia said heavily.

"You showered without me," he said softly.

"Comes a point where a girl's got to shave her legs and use a hot-oil treatment on her hair alone," Giulia said, turning to stamp a kiss against his jaw. "Especially when someone keeps stealing her conditioner."

"Guilty," Elijah sighed, lips twitching into a smile. He peered over his shoulder at the elaborate diary-entries, the illustrated, incomprehensible grimoire pages, baby-photographs in an old album, annotations in Call of the Wild, a photograph of Giulia. "Have you made any headway with all of this?"

"None. The more I look into it, the more confused I am," Giulia admitted. She held up a photograph of her and the similar featured man he had seen in the other photographs, grinning with a baby in his arms in the album. "This is me." She turned the photograph over, where someone had written 'Joshua with Giulia, Milo's 13th birthday'.

"Who's Milo?"

"I have no idea," Giulia said. "But Joshua – he's my uncle."

"I didn't know you had any other family."

"He disappeared years before I was born," Giulia said quietly. "My father had him legally pronounced dead after it became clear he wasn't going to find him."

"It appears you did," Elijah said thoughtfully. Giulia passed him a yellowed newspaper. The date on it read Saturday, July 31st, 1954.

"How can I have found him, when I've never met him; when even he wasn't born in 1954?" Giulia asked.

"The thirty-first of July… Does that have any significance to you?"

"Other than being Harry Potter and J.K. Rowling's shared birthday… On the thirty-first of July, 1954, my grandparents got married," Giulia said. "This was the evening paper – my grandpa and my grandmother, Doll, have their wedding-picture in here."

"How curious," Elijah said.

"I think we'll just have to face facts," Giulia sighed heavily, setting the photograph and newspaper down. "I'm a Time Lord." Elijah laughed, smiling and shaking his head.

"You're certainly mad enough to be one," he agreed, kissing the back of her neck. "Only one heart, though; though, I suppose it's big enough. Does this make me your companion?"

"If you like," Giulia smiled, exhausted. She sighed, the amusement fading from her tired face as she looked over the grimoire. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I wouldn't let it drive you mad," Elijah advised. "The greatest mysteries in the world are merely stories that have been half-forgotten… One day, you shall have to ask Gyda about the Princes in the Tower." Giulia turned to him, her lips parted in a curious, delighted 'O'. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling. "Perhaps this story hasn't been written yet."

"And how do you explain that?" Giulia laughed.

"I can't. My mother used to say time is fluid," Elijah shrugged. "And your life is steeped in magic and the supernatural. I wouldn't take anything for granted."

"What did your mother mean, time is fluid?"

"I was never a witch; there are things I could never fully understand; but what I've learned over the years is that…there are many layers to this world. The natural world around us; the hidden supernatural, things like magic, werewolves; then there are things even witches cannot explain, things our modern world has forgotten. And witches are limited by their own creativity. There's no knowing what they've done to our world, what's happening under the surface, concealed from our eyes."

"It does make you wonder," Giulia sighed. She frowned at the photograph of herself with Joshua Salvatore. "Oh, speaking of witches, can you get yours to stop creeping around Bonnie?"

"I'll do my best; I make few promises where teenage hormones are concerned," Elijah said, and Giulia smirked. "Where did you go for your run?"

"The Gilbert house," Giulia said, and Elijah raised his eyebrows. "Your Dr Martin isn't the only one who can sneak in there."

"You snuck in?"

"Jenna stayed at Ric's last night; she can't stand John Gilbert," Giulia said. "Jeremy's a deep sleeper."

"Why did you sneak into the house?" Elijah asked, stifling the urge to roll his eyes. "You're welcome into that house anytime."

"I was curious," Giulia said. Firenze mewled softly and slunk off Giulia's shoulders.

"Well…did you find anything interesting?" Elijah asked, and Giulia pulled her phone toward her, swiping into it and accessing her photographs. Gyda would adore the instant nature of digital photography; she loved taking pictures. Giulia held up her phone to Elijah, whose heart missed a beat.

"A silver dagger."

"Willem never had one made for him; you and Kol are still alive," Giulia said thoughtfully. "Klaus has three he can readily use, including his own. And he's the only one who ever kept control over them. If your brother was trying to keep under the radar, giving John Gilbert that dagger is about as subtle as Hiroshima."

"So Niklaus got to John Gilbert."

"Better him than Elena's birth-mother," Giulia said.

"The vampire, and an occult research expert," Elijah remembered, and Giulia nodded. "Still, it's worrying he got to John Gilbert without anyone knowing. There's no knowing what he's told my brother."

"You have to wonder? Everything," Giulia scoffed. "And that is why I tucked Isobel safe in the tomb, desiccating." Elijah raised an eyebrow; that was news to him. But once again Giulia had displayed her incredible foresight. "I'd rather have a compelled human than a vampire."

"How do you imagine we shall resolve this?" Elijah asked.

"We can't kill him…I suppose," Giulia sighed. "For the first time in his life, John is actually valuable."

"Most likely he is heavily under the influence of Niklaus' compulsion," Elijah said. "It is safe to assume whatever John knew, now Klaus does. He will be receiving regular reports."

"Luckily everyone hates him; no-one would tell him if his hair was on fire," Giulia said, yawning. "So I've invited him to dinner."

"Klaus will insist he attends," Elijah smiled, giving Giulia a kiss. "Who else have you told?"

"Only Sheila knows," Giulia said.

"Did you take the dagger?"

"Too obvious," Giulia clucked her tongue, giving him a look. "I think it wise to let Klaus believe it's all going the way he's predicted, until the very last moment."

"I agree," Elijah said softly. They had both known the potential was there for Niklaus to discover the rumours, to be drawn to the town by the promise of the doppelgänger's appearance, his chance to remove the 'curse' Esther had placed on him a thousand years ago. They knew their situation was precarious at best, that at any moment Klaus might make his move. His first: to try and remove Elijah from the situation. It was Giulia's guess that Klaus meant for Damon or Stefan, the two most desperate to try and protect Elena, to use the dagger against Elijah; they would either succeed, or be killed in the attempt, getting rid of at least one obstacle in Klaus' way to Elena. She had picked over Stefan's diary from 1922, guessing Klaus would prefer it be Damon rather than Stefan who died. Stefan was too consciously conscientious to hurt even Elena's dick of a biological father – Damon wasn't bothered by it. Neither was Giulia; he had tried to barbecue Damon, and was the cause of Caroline being put in the hospital, leading to her death and ultimately her transition. All because of Elena.

"So your dinner-party should have some surprises," Elijah said, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. "I can't wait for dessert." Giulia glanced over her shoulder, her smile warm. He smiled back, leaning in to nuzzle her nose with his, stealing a kiss. "Perhaps you could take a nap while I cook breakfast."

"I'm too wired to sleep," Giulia said softly, her eyes glowing.

"I have something for that," Elijah said, and Giulia's eyes brightened before she let out a laugh, hoisted over his shoulder effortlessly. He clapped a hand possessively over a bare butt-cheek and enjoyed the idea of the view of Giulia in her little black Brazilian panties, slung over his shoulder. He dumped her on the bed, and her laugh was soft and rich, reaching for him; she cupped his jaw and pressed a soft, searing kiss to his lips, as he hooked his thumbs under the sides of her panties, swiftly tugging them off, down her legs, nudging her knees apart with his as he leaned over her, savouring her kiss, pushing her t-shirt up and cupping her bare breast, her piercing a sting of chilled metal against his palm, unexpected and enticing. He shivered, and pressed kisses down her throat, across her collarbones, lavishing attention to the breasts he adored and the constellation of tiny beauty-spots across them, tugging at her piercing with his teeth as his hand sought lower, teasing, the slow, torturous way that wound her up so tight, her release was always violent, every muscle in her body relaxing, boneless, thoughtless. Hand between her thighs, he lavished kisses and little nips on her breasts, kissing a trail down, replacing his hand to wind her up so dangerously tight – and bring her to several violent, relentless orgasms that made her thighs shake and her toes curl.

He sat back, panting, relieved, as Giulia's eyes drifted closed, her breathing gentled, and she licked her lips, curling onto her side, rumpled and asleep. He covered her with a blanket, wiped his mouth and made his way downstairs. She wouldn't be out for long, but it should be enough to stop her walking around like a zombie; he was concerned about her getting behind the wheel of a car, or coming across the wrong person on the street. They both knew Hayley Marshall, the young slut werewolf, had stayed in town; if Giulia saw her in person on the street, without warning… He was concerned. With what he believed to be PTSD, Elijah knew anything could trigger a psychotic break in Giulia. And with her personality, and what she had to cope with and what she had done… He was just worried about her. He put a bread-and-butter pudding in the oven for breakfast, and climbed into bed with Giulia, wrapping himself around her, drawing the blanket over them. Whenever she stirred, his hand sought between her thighs, gentling her back to sleep, making her boneless.

He'd thought about crushing sleeping-pills into her food; this was better. Even in sleep she responded to him so exquisitely.

And he knew when she had woken; she preened like a cat, gasping softly as he massaged her, moaning softly and biting her lip, her toes curling. Her silver eyes glinted in the sunrise splashing across the bed, her hair a tumble of dark waves around her head, and her chest rose harshly on a gasp, eyelashes fluttering as she dug her heels in, groaning as she rolled her hips to his hand.

"Did you sleep well, my petal?" he asked casually.

"Not—fair," she grunted, squeezing her eyes shut, seizing his wrist in her hands, gasping as her knees fell wide, rolling her hips.

"Well," he sighed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and shrugging as if doing nothing more scandalous than bringing her a cup of coffee, while he worked his fingers the way he knew drove her mad, "it was this or drugs."

"This!" Giulia gasped, writhing. He chuckled evilly, leaning in to nibble and tug on her earlobe, liking the bite of her delicate piercings as he thrust his fingers deep, circling the tiny swollen little bud of nerves. She panted, and came on a throaty cry, throwing her head back. He laughed breathlessly, nipping her throat the way that made her shiver, and he groaned when she shoved her hand inside his pyjama-bottoms, bare beneath them. Eyes bright and wicked, Giulia cupped him, giving a taunting tug that would have made his knees buckle if he stood, and shoved him to his back, climbing into his lap and crying out as she took him in one sharp thrust of her hips, making him grip her thighs, hard, hissing, as the aftershocks from her last orgasm squeezed him deliciously. Naked and writhing above him, he panted, reaching up to cup her breasts, to gently tease her clit, she leaned back, hands on his thighs, grinding her hips against his, the ends of her hair tickling his skin, her warmth searing him; he sat up, gripped her hips, and let her drape her arms over his shoulders, letting him take control, to thrust up to meet her as she rolled her hips, biting her piercing and suckling her, her pants and the quiver of her muscles and the sounds of their meeting a sonata in his ears as the scent of her hair enveloped him, her taste still on his tongue, and he kissed her throat and nipped at her jaw, thrusting up with as much strength as she could take, languidly rolling her hips in time, her arms trembling on his shoulders, leaning down to press delicate kisses against his lips. She buried her head in his shoulder, coming violently on a gasp silenced as she bit into his shoulder, her muscles clenching and quivering around him; he groaned, clasping a fistful of hair in his fingers, and pressed a punishing kiss to her lips as he came so violently he couldn't see straight.

It was the first time he'd had her since finding her in the library. They had been struggling: Giulia flinched at any movement toward her, and Elijah couldn't bear to touch her, set her off, make her associate him with what had happened to her. Giulia panted, bracing herself against him on her forearms, looking dazed but more relaxed than she had in days; he clasped her waist loosely in his hands, leaning back and relaxing into the mattress. She caught his eye, still panting softly, and she gazed back at him, emotion softening her features. She leaned down, draping her upper-body over his, letting him clasp her loosely to him by her waist, trailing a hand up and down her back soothingly. She leaned up, and Elijah glanced at her; she leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss against his lips. He tightened his arm around her shoulders, her hair silky and fragrant against his arm, and took her hand, threading his fingers through hers, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. Still semi-hard inside her, he drifted off with her.

He woke to her being wicked, feasting on breakfast. Grinning lazily, he sighed and bent a knee, giving her better access, choking on a breath as she taunted and teased and nipped, suckling with her tongue, taking him deep and moaning so he felt it, giving him stinging kisses with her teeth that drove him mad, blinded by ecstasy. He groaned, and he heard her chuckle softly – he cried out, feeling it; she took him deep, pumping him, and cleaned him up with her tongue. He felt her weight shift, felt her searing warmth against his side, felt the tickle of her hair, and sighed as he forced his eyes open.

"I couldn't resist," Giulia whispered, gazing down at him. He smiled lazily. "I helped myself."

"Well, I suppose…if you must," he yawned, stretching luxuriously. He looped his arms around her, and she stretched herself over him, propping herself up on her hand, gazing down at him. He reached up and stroked her cheek. "You look better."

"I feel better," she said softly. Her eyes were gentle, glittering when she bent her head and gave him a lingering kiss. "You gave me sweet dreams."

"I'm glad," he said softly, hugging her to him gently. He became aware of something hot dripping on his chest, and was heartbroken to see Giulia silently crying. She sniffled, wiping her eyes, and let out a hollow, shaky breath.

"I'm struggling," she finally admitted. He hugged her tighter.

"I know," he said, voice constricted. He knew, and he couldn't do anything for her except what he was doing; just being there. He hated being so helpless, it was the one emotion he absolutely could not handle, he had never been able to; he could not stand by while the people he loved suffered. Giulia propped herself up on her hand, gazing down at him, her expression gentle and searing with emotion, she frowned down at him as if confused, but her smile was tremulous, her eyes bright.

"I love you."

Elijah let out a shaky breath, his eyes burning. "I love you."

He took her in his arms, turning her to her back, and leaned over her, kissing her slowly, savouring, something ripped away between them, leaving nothing but raw emotion, an overwhelming truth shared between them; they didn't look away as he slowly fed himself into her, he took the tiny moan from her lips with a kiss, and savoured every glide of his hips as if it were the first, never breaking eye-contact, their delicate, raw kisses and that truth heightening everything until they shook and writhed in each other's arms, and her fingernails bit into his back as she gasped and writhed under him; he leaned down, stealing a kiss as he pumped into her, gently bringing her down, only to reposition his hips, moving her hand to where they met to tease herself, he pinched her nipple as he reached up to use his arms for leverage, and she whimpered, bit his shoulder, and held on, laughing breathlessly, her face a wash of ecstasy as he surged into her again, giving her searing, biting kisses, powerful, long thrusts that took her breath away and made his toes curl, heat and teasing sensation tightening behind his testicles, surging into her in a blinding thrust as she clenched and rippled around him, fondling him, teasing herself, biting his nipples, writhing beneath him. His arms shaking, he hung his head against her shoulder, and she dusted his face with tiny kisses, massaging his lower-back, his sides; she pressed frantic, shaky kisses against his neck, and he turned his head, capturing her lips.

He shook as he rolled onto his side, drawing her with him; she smiled, sleepy and sweet, and rubbed her cheek against his in a catlike display of affection; what more was there to say?

To know it was one thing; to hear it from her lips was another.

He had her love. And she would have his for the rest of eternity.

A.N.: I know, right? Next, the dinner-party. Trying to figure out exactly how to introduce Caroline to Giulijah.