.Song. .of. .the. .Siren.

Twilight-staruby

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Summary: A made vampire, Shadrach Silverthorne is everything a NightWorld leader is expected to be: Ruthless and powerful. Until Kiele, a vampire slayer so closely linked to the his treacherous past, shows up...it will all turn out for the better, or worse.

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For the sword outwears its sheath

And the soul wears out the breast

And a heart must pause to breathe

And love itself have rest.

Lord Byron, (1788 - 1824

Chapter Eleven: Broken

Flowers, acres of them, surrounded her, releasing their heady fragrance into the crisp night air.

She could smell the fresh, salty smell of the sea, hear the crash of waves.

Quietly, she wondered in awe where she was, afraid that if she did make a sound, all of these would disappear.

Illuminated by the faint moonlight only, the place glowed with the ethereal light only a magical place will have. She wanted to stay here forever, where she was away from all the pain and harshness of reality...away from the truth...

A sudden rustling sound had her snapping around, her hand automatically reaching down to her thigh where she always strapped her knife to.

It was then she realised she was dressed only in a flimsy looking white dress that hung by straps on her shoulders.

It wasn't exactly an ideal dressing for one to be facing an unknown enemy in.

Kiele did the only thing she could do: wait.

Apprehensively, she waited, her body tensed as the footsteps came closer and closer, the heavy sound of footfalls heavy and dulled by the carpet of flowers.

She held her breath as the shadowy figure came closer, step by ominous step.

Then the person stepped into the moonlight.

"You!" Even as she snarled that out, she was backing away.

He was danger, a murderer and everything she loath.

"Where am I?" She demanded edgily.

"Your dream." He answered simply.

She started. It really had not been the answer she had been expecting.

Her dream?

"As if I would believe you." She spat out.

"Please don't." The soft command startled her.

She couldn't help it: she stared.

It was a tone she never expected to come from the most ruthless of the vampires. She wouldn't even have bat an eyelid if that blasted Angelo, known for his varied mood swings, had spoken in that tone, but Shadrach Silverthorne?

"Please listen to me...Gwenivere."

The softly uttered name had the impact of a fifty-kilogram boulder thrown at her.

Her breathe whooshed out of and for a moment, she could only stare. Stared as he neared her. Stared as he reached out a hand to stroke her cheek softly. Stared as he smiled a sad smile at her.

"I am-not...Gwenivere." The words came out with an effort, forced out as she jerked back from the man she was taught to hate for her whole life.

Too many unwanted memories, struggling to break out within her. Memories that were Gwenivere.

Kiele realised she was afraid; afraid of being forced to see things previously starkly black and white change into grayscale.

He didn't say a word but simply reached for her.

This time, she didn't resist, couldn't and she simply let him pull her into his arms.

A hand on her waist, they began to waltz a timeless waltz that was theirs and theirs alone. Music, imaginary perhaps, floated in, soft and melodious strains of Haydn...just like the first time.

Is dancing with me such a torture?

Memories, memories that made Gwenivere who she was, long-forgotten brushed in, giving Kiele glimpses of her past.

You are...you. Unique.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" She whispered out.

Then the people who think like that are idiots.

"Because...you were everything to me." His grey eyes were solemn as he looked down at her.

Strangely enough, she believed him. Just like Gwenivere did.

"Sha-"

"Christian." He cut in softly. "Christian."

"Christian."This time, when she said his name, a small smile curved her lips.

As they danced to the music to their own time, she let herself drown in the grey depths that was him and him alone and let herself forget everything.

Just for now.

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When Kiele woke up from her dream-like stupor, she knew he was there in the room with her.

His aura was one that was hard to ignore when he was not soughting to hide it.

She sat up.

Seated across her bed, he was there in a chair, hands clasped in front of him in a deceivingly pious look. Unnervingly, his grey eyes were fixed on her face, piercing and intense.

Instinctively, her hand went up to smooth her hair before she realised what she had done and hurriedly shifted her hands into her lap, a blush staining her face as she prayed feverently that he hadn't noticed.

Damn the vampire. She cursed inwardly.

A small smile of amusement crossed his face as he stood up in a fluid movement.

Unfortunately for her, it appeared he had.

She glared at him, daring him to laugh.

He did neither, even though the smile lingered. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back, never breaking his gaze from hers.

"You have questions, I gather."

"You think?"

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A tad abrupt, sorry about that but R&R please :')