It was difficult to tell how much time passed. In Ethan's nights, surrounded by his loss and loneliness, time could only be measured in grief. There were the long stretches of ugly sobbing, followed by the silent, numb weeping, until finally all that remained were the sniffles and the blank stare at the stone wall in front of him.

Tonight was different, in that Ethan was certain he had been able to reel his emotions in much sooner than usual. In Bela's embrace, Ethan's body no longer heaved with sobs. The flow of tears trickled down to a stop. His tight grip as he clung onto Bela relaxed by a degree. Some clarity returned to mind, and Ethan couldn't help but be reminded of the whole reason he'd brought up his nightmares to begin with.

It had been in the attempt to get Bela to open up. An empathetic olive branch to show that he understood how it felt to sleep fitfully and disturbed; that she wasn't alone in this, and he could relate to the struggles and the haunting dreams.

Ethan rubbed his hand over Bela's slender back as he broached the subject slowly, "Why'd you check in with me tonight when you couldn't sleep? Why not your sisters?"

Bela's hum rumbled against Ethan's face, still pressed to her neck. "Cassandra and I have not seen eye to eye lately, so I would rather not bother her with my troubles. Daniela is a darling to speak with, but…" There was a pause as Bela appeared to tiptoe over her words. "It is unpleasant for her to discuss the nightmares; that's not a burden I wish to lay on her."

Ethan knew from experience it was an awful thing to bottle up that negativity. It ate at you and festered like an infected wound. Ethan asked softly, "What's keeping you up, Bela? Why the nightmares?"

Bela's reply was a sigh, and heavy silence.

Slowly, Ethan squirmed around in their embrace. He removed his face from the spot it had claimed in the nook of Bela's neck. He looked up at her through his probably still puffy eyes. With a gentle squeeze, he assured her, "I'm here for you too, okay?"

Bela eventually peeled her amber eyes from his, choosing instead to look straight up. Her pale lips parted, and she took the time to parse through her thoughts and pick her words.

"Sometimes, I wish I could forget it all." Bela shook her head slightly. "I wish I did not remember a single thing from before."

"It is not a lot that I recall. Whatever you are imagining of my past – it's probably more than what I actually remember…" Bela paused to scrunch her face up in frustration, "I don't know if it is better or worse that way."

After a beat of silence, she let out a hollow laugh. "If I remember more, then all the more I will be hung up on the past – a slave to those memories of days long gone. If I remember less," Bela scoffed to herself, "Then I will only wish to find out more – to uncover the truth so shrouded in mystery."

Bela's eyes brimmed with vulnerability when she glimpsed at Ethan. "There is no winning. It's why I would rather not remember anything at all." She closed her eyes and hummed, "To be blissfully unaware that there even was a life before Bela Dimitrescu."

Ethan found that once Bela got started, it appeared she sustained her own momentum, for better or for worse. He didn't need to prompt her when she went on, "Much of what I remember – they are not like ordinary memories. They're… disjointed."

As Bela spoke, Ethan slowly shifted in their position. It felt natural to ease an arm around her shoulders. Bela embraced his midsection and laid her head down on his chest. The intimacy in their position was not lost to Ethan. He was perfectly aware of how they'd smashed through their barriers like a sledgehammer through glass. Yet he felt no urgency to pull away and stop it. To Ethan, it only felt fair – Bela had taken the time to comfort him over the spike of grief over Mia's loss. He had to do the same for her and her complex web of emotions.

"What I remember does not always form a complete image. Sometimes, it's just a flash of emotion. Or perhaps a vivid sensation or feeling." Bela placed a hand on Ethan's chest. She fiddled with the soft fabric for a moment before elaborating, "I remember the smell and taste of fresh Frigănele but I cannot visualize my mother cooking it… I remember the gunpowder sticking to my hands when father taught me to shoot." She glanced at Ethan with a sad smile, "But I do not remember how to shoot."

"You got fragments." Ethan observed. "Bits and pieces."

Bela nodded her agreement, but added, "Although there are some complete memories. Those that I remember the clearest."

Ethan didn't want to overstep his bounds. But just as Bela had granted him catharsis by holding him as he bawled his eyes out, perhaps she could find some catharsis of her own by talking about it. "Like what?"

"I remember the day father got back from the war." Bela left Ethan to guess once more which of the world wars this was. "I was still a little girl. Could you believe there was a time I could play in the snow?"

The image of a little Bela bundled up and standing in knee-deep snow was an endearing one.

"We'd heard that the treaties were signed, and that father would be coming home. We just did not know when he would return." Bela smile grew warm, and Ethan could practically see the memory replaying in her mind's eye. "He took us by surprise that day."

"The air smelled like diesel. That was how you could tell the army's trucks were in the village. If you did not smell them coming, you would certainly hear them. There was no shortage of farming equipment around the village, but the truck engines roared differently."

Bela painted a vivid picture. He could nearly smell the diesel in the air as well – he'd been around his fair share of those trucks while on base and training with Chris.

"Anyway… I was playing in the snow with mother when the trucks arrived. She took me by the hand, and we made our way to the village center." Bela smiled brightly, and she glanced up at Ethan. "You should have seen him, Ethan. We could tell he wanted to look presentable for us, because he stood out immediately from the rest of the men. Their uniforms were filthy, their hair was long and unkempt, and they all sported beards. But not father."

"He appeared thinner – he'd definitely lost weight. But aside from that, he looked just as he did the day he left. Neat and polished uniform. Closely trimmed dark hair. He even had a few cuts from shaving." Bela bit down on her bottom lip for a beat. "Do you know what I remember the most?"

"What's that?" Ethan found his hand settling over Bela's head, fingers easing into her hair.

"That was the first time I'd ever seen him cry. Those eyes of his were so puffy, but he was trying to keep it together… as if mother and I weren't weeping with joy as well." Bela chuckled to herself and mused, "He had such light blue eyes, and my mother loved them to death. He passed those genes onto me – the eyes. That was before…"

Bela trailed off. Ethan figured she too had a hard time aptly naming these two highly different periods of her life. There was simply a before, and the present.

Though Ethan did have to take a second to pause and imagine Bela with striking blue eyes. They probably suited her just as much as her honey golden eyes did.

"I'm not sure why that memory is so clear to me. Though perhaps there is little rhyme or reason to it." Bela laid her head back on Ethan's chest and resumed toying with the fabric of his sweater. "Our world can seem like such a receptacle for random chaos. The order and organization only exist because we impose our will and our view onto the world. Who's to say it doesn't work the same for my broken head?"

"I don't think your head's broken." Ethan muttered in an attempt at reassurance.

"Maybe not, but still. I believe that memory may have just had the luck for me to recall it in its entirety. There are many other significant moments I only remember through emotions and vivid sensations." Her shoulder bobbed in a slight shrug. "Though some significant memories are complete, like –"

Bela cut herself off. The words hung in the air, only for her to close that line of thought with a huff.

"There is no point holding onto the past, is there? It would be so much easier if I did not remember any of it; if I hadn't the slightest idea that there was a before."

It was a crisis of identity and self that Ethan was nowhere near qualified to help her unpack. Hell – the world's greatest therapists would probably have a hard time walking Bela through this. It must be maddening to have those memories of the past, regardless of clarity, and need to reconcile them with the blood-sucking present she was trapped in.

The best Ethan could do was encourage her to dig into those thoughts, because the conflict in itself was a quintessential part of being human.

"If you could – if you really could," Ethan spoke slowly and clearly, "Would you want to forget it all? Just – clean slate. Would you want to be just Bela Dimitrescu, with no before." Ethan watched Bela crane her head to meet his gaze. Her brows furrowed in thought as Ethan continued. "No before – that's no mom with the Friga… the Romanian Toast. No dad teaching you to shoot. No memory of him crying and holding onto you and your mom."

It was with Mia and Rose in mind that Ethan went on, "Imagine all the love your dad must've had for you two. I bet he kept both of you in his heart throughout that whole war. He used that to fight through that hell and come back home in one piece. He did that for you two. He must've been so happy to see you again – to hold you again after years of being apart." Ethan held Bela's gaze as she tightened her hold around him. "If you forget all that… who's gonna remember them? It'll almost be like it never happened. The past never existed, your folks never existed. Their memory dies with you."

Ethan pursed his lips for a moment and shrugged. "So – if you really could forget it all, would you?"

There was a heaviness to Bela's sigh and that frown on her face. But there was no doubt when she admitted, "No. I suppose I wouldn't."

What Bela's response said about her humanity – and her desire to hold onto it – could not be understated.

Days ago, Ethan knew that learning of Bela's past was important. But at the time, he wasn't too sure how it would come in handy – why it was of any value.

Now, it couldn't be clearer. Bela's past, the before, was the key to her humanity. If Ethan really wanted to make deductions, then he would go so far as to say that her past was the reason that he was alive and being treated so well. If he could get Bela to hold onto that past all the more – shit, maybe even unearth more memories if possible – then she could embrace the human side of her more and more.

Where that may ultimately lead, it was hard to say. The optimist in Ethan wanted to believe that it would somehow be his ticket out of here. If he was lucky, maybe he was right for once. Maybe he'd survive long enough for that to be the case.

The silence, heavy with contemplation, hung in Ethan's cell for a long stretch of time. There was no rush to break the silence permeating the air. Bela clearly had a lot going on in her mind. While it was a good sign that she was beginning to share more and more of herself, it was obviously difficult for her. This wasn't something that could just be rushed along to the finish line. Bela needed to take the time to sift through the past she remembered, and decide how she would let it affect her in the present.

Ethan was content to embrace Bela in the tranquility of their cell in the meantime.

Their cell? His cell.

"Ethan?"

If it weren't for Bela playing with his sweater, he would've thought she had fallen asleep on his chest.

"Yeah?"

"I have a confession to make."

Whether Bela intended it or not, her choice of wording caused his heart to skip a beat. What it was she was about to say could be anything under the sun – but when whispered in the dark with her head resting on his chest – it certainly held different connotations. Ethan only wished she didn't take too much note of his rapid heartbeat.

Clearing his throat, Ethan urged her, "Go on."

"It is not just the nightmares which kept me from going back to sleep." Bela left a pregnant pause before finally admitting, "I was also hungry."

"Oh."

Ethan wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. Bela's third feeding had been on hold for a while now, for reasons still outside of Ethan's comprehension. It wasn't too big of a surprise that she'd finally come to collect. The only true surprise was that it had taken this long, especially when his blood was the whole reason he was locked up in the first place.

Unlike the first two instances, Ethan didn't feel any dread hearing Bela's admission. He wasn't afraid to part with some of his blood – especially if it was Bela taking it. So, it was easy for him to tease her, "You just came here for a midnight snack, is that it? Did you drink my blood sample and want more?

Bela lifted her head off Ethan's chest to tighten her appalled eyes at him. "No! I came here because I was restless, and – and I needed to talk to someone or – or see how you were doing –"

"Hey – relax," Ethan huffed a quiet laugh as he squeezed Bela's arm. "I'm just messing with you."

"Ugh," Bela grunted. Her brows furrowed in that endearingly familiar displeased frown. "You are the worst."

She only glared harder in the face of Ethan's shit-eating grin. He couldn't help it. This was all just so odd and amusing in a way he couldn't quite pinpoint. Bela getting defensive over using him for his blood was highly ironic. Just a week ago, she had made it pretty clear that was all he was good for.

Ethan's thumb drew short strokes on the smooth skin of Bela's shoulder. "It's been a while since you last took a sip, huh?"

The mild irritation Bela wore fizzled away. In its place was an expression Ethan couldn't quite place – some form of peculiar almost melancholia.

She bit down on her bottom lip for a beat. "Yes."

"Why's that? Why haven't you asked me to relax since that last time?" Even as Ethan asked the question, he had a feeling he wasn't going to get a straight answer. That nearly lost, uncertain look in her golden eyes said enough.

Several long seconds passed as Bela held Ethan's gaze. Ultimately, she avoided his eyes, and returned her head to its position on his chest. Whatever complex reasons Bela had would remain obscured for the time being.

There was this misguided sense of worry that filled Ethan – that she was getting malnourished without the blood she needed. It was anybody's guess what she ate and drank when they weren't together. Bela did conversationally report on her other meals (always human-free), but she could just as easily be lying to him about it.

Not that Bela had any sort of track record of lying to him. She'd been nothing but honest with him.

So, Ethan was inclined to believe Bela was truthful – and the last drop of blood she'd drunk was during their second feeding. She had been subsisting on copious amounts of meat in the meantime.

That odd sense of worry only intensified as the silence drew on – and Bela didn't ask to drink his blood.

Ethan knew his head was fucked ten ways to the next week when he offered, "C'mon, you can take a bite if you want."

By and large, Ethan had stopped caring too much about how skewed his brain worked these days. He was alive and healthy as a result of his decisions over the past week. That was far more important than the rationality and morality of his strange relationship with Bela.

For better or for worse, it was as Bela had said days ago: a long-term mutually beneficial relationship – symbiosis. Bela was far less parasitic than he anticipated, given all the benefits and comfort she had granted him over the week. Though that, of course, did not mean he was going to stop calling her a tapeworm any time soon.

Bela lifted her head off his chest again, and her astonished eyes found his. With brows raised, Bela asked, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah." Ethan did feel like trying his luck, especially since he'd made the offer to begin with. "But I got a request."

Bela watched him attentively. "Yes?"

"The blackouts suck. Could you not drink too much blood and knock me out?"

Blonde hair shifted and bounced as Bela readily nodded her head in agreement. "Of course."

The next matter was Rose. As the Duke had noted in his letter, it would be good to bring Rose up in the aftermath of the feeding – when Bela was at her most influenceable. There was little doubt to Ethan's mind that the next big break in the search for Rose lied ahead. The next victory was in sight. In time, those wins would add up and culminate in holding his baby girl in his arms again.

When Bela remained frozen in place, Ethan urged her on. "Well – get in there."

Bela cracked a small, awkward smile. She brushed a few loose strands of wavy hair away from her face as she muttered. "Right."

In a leisurely, languid movement, Bela brought her arm from around Ethan's midsection over to his broad chest. It remained there for a beat, fingers not-so-subtly gliding over the definition of his muscled chest.

It was reminiscent of how Mia was quite enamored by the extra mass he put on in recent years – the muscle he'd built training under Chris in anticipation of the next monumental fuck up. It appeared Bela was similarly a fan.

Bela's hand crept up, grazing along his collarbone. Her dark nails brushed over his neck before settling on the side of his face. Her thumb ran over the week-old stubble prickling free. As if the warm hand Bela cupped his cheek with wasn't enough to take in – Bela squirmed closer.

There was little space between them to begin with, but Bela soon ensured that there was none left by the time she scooted over. She pressed her figure – her goddamn soft, curvy figure that Ethan did his best to ignore – to his side. Her leg draped over his, and Ethan struggled to contain the shiver he felt in spite of the warmth between them.

To say that Bela was close was an understatement. Ethen felt that a word had yet to be invented to describe how close Bela was.

She was close enough for him to feel the uncharacteristically rapid beat of her heart against his chest. Close enough for her warm breath to fan his face. Close enough that he could make out every minute detail to her golden irises. Even as the shroud of complete darkness surrounded them – Ethan was close enough to see the tiniest specks of blue intermingling with the amber. A remnant of her past self, stalwartly clinging onto the Bela Dimitrescu she was today.

Though equally possible was that he was just hallucinating those blue sprinkles, given that he was a little insane around the edges.

Ethan's insides stirred further still when Bela turned his head to the side, and her face drew closer yet.

But instead of landing on his neck, Bela's lips found his stubbly cheek. She pressed a long, quiet kiss to the side of his face, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth.

Her lips came free, leaving his skin flushed and tingling. It was only then that Ethan realized he was holding his breath.

"Thank you." The words were mumbled, as if speaking any louder would pierce the peace and silence that Ethan's cell unwittingly granted them.

Ethan was too tongue-tied to get a reply out. The best he could do was give Bela's arm a squeeze. If he blinked, he would've missed the small wave of gooseflesh that tingled along her skin.

Bela soon tucked her face into the crook of his neck. It was a nearly familiar sight to have Bela's blonde locks up close and obscuring his vision.

Yet it was different being in this position while lying in bed, with the darkness around them granting an extra layer of security and privacy. Rather than simply having Bela's hair in his face, he was getting tangled up in it. A messy bunch of strands looped up and somehow draped over Ethan's ear. A couple long, stray hairs had gotten into his mouth, which was just about the last thing Ethan expected. These were the sort of problems that only occurred while cuddling up to someone without a single inch of space between you.

With Bela's hot breath warming his neck, Ethan gently freed Bela's tangled locks from his face. As the moments ticked by, Ethan wasn't too sure how he went from that to running his fingers through her hair. In the same vein, he wasn't sure when Bela started grazing her lips against his neck.

All he was sure of was that it awoke the butterflies and sent them rumbling in his stomach.

Then with little further ceremony, Ethan felt Bela's fangs break flesh. His skin grew damp, then wet as Bela's hot mouth closed over the bite.

The euphoria Bela moaned against his neck had no right to make his heart stutter like that.

Ethan had earlier thought that she was already exceedingly close to him. Bela clearly had other ideas. She pushed her body to his side all the more, and his man-brain was on the verge of short-circuiting in response.

The leg she had settled between his rode up alarmingly high before looping out and trapping both his legs this time. Her hips pressed against the side of his thigh, and Ethan wasn't sure if he was glad or disappointed that he wasn't turned to face her.

The hand on his face snaked into his hair, where Bela gripped onto him in a gentle but firm fistful. She used that as leverage to pull herself closer yet, as if she never wanted to have a single inch of space between them ever again. Ethan couldn't ignore the soft press of her breasts against his chest – not with how she flushed herself against him, and especially not with the borderline vulgar sounds Bela was making.

The lightheadedness was setting in. All in all, the sensation wasn't unpleasant. It washed over him as a light buzz that took the edge off; like he was two beers in, and not at all getting his blood drained by a pair of fangs to his neck.

And while Ethan would never admit it aloud, Bela wasn't the only one enjoying herself. There was a strange, unnatural satisfaction which brewed within him. It sent his blood pumping powerfully in his veins and straight out the open wound Bela fed from. It caused the flapping butterflies in his stomach to go ballistic with an unfounded excitement.

Ethan couldn't pinpoint the what or the why behind his body's reaction. Maybe it was Bela's – well, everything. Her muffled moans against his neck. Her fingers gripping his hair. Her goddamn curves against his body.

That was probably the blood loss talking.

To keep himself grounded and lucid, Ethan opened his eyes – even if he hardly remembered shutting them to begin with. With their blanket still doing a good job of keeping them wrapped up, there wasn't a whole lot to see from the neck-down. But what there was to see was already a lot, and Ethan took in the sight of her – of Bela's slender neck as pale as porcelain and inexplicably inviting.

There was the peculiar urge that sprung up, making his skin tingle and his heart beat ever faster. He wanted to run his teeth along the smooth skin of Bela's neck, then do the same with his lips.

Maybe that would make Bela produce the same sounds she was making now.

That was, probably, still the blood loss talking.

These were dangerous thoughts to entertain, but Ethan lacked the usual resolve to kick them away. On an ordinary night, they would be easy to lock up in the filing cabinet in his mind labeled 'do not do.' Unfortunately, this was no ordinary night. All the circumstances between and around them guaranteed that.

The darkness enveloping them granted an extra layer of protection and secrecy. It allowed thoughts to run amuck – thoughts which neither of them would even consider entertaining under the sane, conscious, sobering light of day.

Their bodies were tangled together, needy and wanting – Ethan craved solace and comfort in Bela's arms; Bela had an insatiable thirst that only Ethan could quench.

Emotions ran hot on either side. Neither of them were whole, healthy, mentally stable individuals – their respective tortured pasts made sure of that. Mia's murder haunted Ethan just as much as Bela's stolen past life hung over her.

That – all of that – rendered Ethan powerless to repress his racing thoughts. It was unbearable to ignore the thin strap of Bela's nightgown, and how easily he could slip a finger underneath it to guide it over her shoulder.

In the futile effort to think about something else – do anything else – Ethan began moving the hand he had settled over Bela's bare shoulder. Pointedly avoiding the strap, his hand trailed down her side, thumb brushing against her ribs. Bela's body rocked against his with a – possibly delighted – shiver.

His hand drew a path along the valley formed by the curve of her waist – then finally settled on her generous hip.

Ever receptive to his touch, Bela squirmed all the more. The fact that his fingers dug against the silky, far-too-thin fabric of her gown may or may not have had something to do with that.

Abruptly, Bela's mouth came free from his neck. Her wet tongue ran over the wound – slowly, gently. Among other things, Bela was making it hard not to hold her down and return the favor.

By the time Bela pulled back, they were both breathing heavily – as heavily as the tense, electric air around them. Save for Bela's head, they hadn't moved an inch – with her leg trapping his in place, and her fingers caught up in his hair. She wasn't the only guilty one though. Ethan was still gripping onto her hip, and half a movement away from rolling on top of her.

Yet Ethan hardly paid heed to the compromising position they were in – or how close they were to knocking it up once step further. He was transfixed by Bela's honey golden eyes in their half-lidded daze. Her gorgeous face was inches away. Her trembling lips – full and tempting – were a shade less pale. Ethan could taste the metallic tang of his own blood in Bela's breath.

Such a thing should have repelled him. It should have reminded him of who he was and who Bela was – a captor who used him for his blood. It should have awoken him from the haze that had befallen them both.

It didn't.

Ethan was content to gaze into Bela's alluring eyes until she decided to remind him it was rude to stare.

It was Bela who moved first – putting some much-needed distance between their precariously close faces. She plopped her head down to his chest, and brought her hand back to wrap around his abdomen. Her leg reeled in, coming back to just brush up against his. It prompted Ethan to release her hip, and his reckless urges along with it. He set his hand down to his side before he got any bright ideas like holding her hand.

They were silent for a while, save for the heavy breaths they both worked to steady. It gave Ethan the time – far too much time – to be aware of how hot his emotions and his hormones had been running.

There was a certain bitterness which began dripping into his thoughts. A sourness which formed from vague feelings of guilt and shame.

Because, frankly, what the fuck was he doing?

Was this the latest revision to his master plan?

Instead of befriending Bela to get her help and escape, was it now 'develop the hots for Bela and her goddamn curves, and seduce her to escape'?

His mind was lost. Gone. Tied to a cinderblock and tossed into the fucking ocean.

His wife's body was cold and unburied, his daughter was lost and God knows where in this castle – and what was he doing? Contemplating whether to pin Bela down or invite her to climb him like a tree? Thinking of how easy it would be to rip her little nightgown off?

Maybe he should have just asked Bela to drink his blood dry and be done with it. Somehow, that ending seemed to have more dignity than the gutter his mind was in.

Getting personally involved with Bela was a risk Ethan had acknowledged since day one. It was a possibility that he had accepted, deeming it as a necessary evil to worming his way under her guard. It was all part of the long game to secure her trust, and eventually find Rose and get out. However, when Ethan first formulated the long game, this wasn't the sort of personal involvement he had anticipated. It was never meant to get this physical and intimate.

Ethan had to get this back under control, starting with his weak-willed man-brain. Bela was his jailer, companion, and apparent ally in settling the score with Chris. He had no business thinking about what her neck tasted like, or if he could get her to recreate the sounds she made when her mouth was full of his blood.

It was a natural instinct at that point for Ethan to close his eyes and retreat into his mind. He did his best to hide from the shame that dripped into his gut like acid, silencing the earlier flutters.

Ethan wanted to tell himself that he was just human. He couldn't be blamed for being so drawn to Bela. She was a walking, talking balm that soothed all his worries away and granted him peace of mind. He was essentially a prisoner of war, trapped behind enemy lines with people who wouldn't give his corpse a second glance. Bela had been doing the exact opposite of that.

Since Ethan's first day imprisoned in this cell, Bela had gone out of her way to make sure he didn't suffer unnecessarily. She personally cooked his meals, or supervised the servants' cooking to ensure he was well-fed and healthy. She gave him a warm bed to rest his weary head on. She bought him enough clothes to stock a drawer. She returned his journal, allowing him to kill time planning his escape, writing, or doodling away.

And, Ethan would argue most importantly, Bela was invaluable emotional support. She kept him talking about things mundane and serious, of things within the castle walls or in the world beyond. She encouraged him to talk of Mia often, keeping her memory alive and fresh. And of course, barely half an hour ago, she cradled him in her arms while he was a sobbing mess.

Through the bleakness of his captivity in the dungeon, Bela shone through as the sole ray of hope.

So, through the shame and guilt, Ethan acknowledged it was only natural he was feeling this way towards Bela. It was only natural he was clinging onto Bela as he was. This was the world's messiest grieving process, and Bela was all he had.

The acceptance of his circumstances, as begrudging as it was, helped. It hosed away the negative feelings corroding his mind, for now. Ethan had an inkling that this wouldn't be his last time grappling with the remorse over his complex relationship with Bela. There was no telling what mental gymnastics he'd need to perform to absolve or condemn himself for it completely.

It was a much-needed distraction to break the silence when Bela spoke up.

"Oxytocin."

"…what?" Ethan asked, since as welcome as her voice was, it wasn't at all what he'd expected.

"It's another… hypothesis I was testing," Bela explained with sheepishness in her tone. "It is what made you taste better last time, and all the better today."

The word was familiar, but in his mild blood loss induced haze, Ethan couldn't put his finger on it. He asked, "Oxy… what? That's another hormone, right? Like adrenaline?"

Bela's fingertips danced along the fabric of his sweater. "Yes. Daniela's books call it the cuddle hormone. The body produces it during moments of… physical intimacy."

Ethan was fairly sure his cheeks were flushed pink throughout the entire feeding – but if they weren't, then they sure as hell were now. There wasn't any other suitable term for it, was there?

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Ethan grumbled in the effort to conceal his own embarrassment. While he was tempted to ask Bela how she knew what Daniela's books called it, there was the much riper target to piss Bela off. "You grinding on my leg like a dog in heat – that's physical intimacy?"

Bela let out a harsh scoff. It was followed by a miscellany of noises which sounded like the start of a dozen different sentences, but she ultimately couldn't pick the right words.

Eventually, Bela settled on a much simpler, "Fuck you."

It startled a laugh out of Ethan, which reverberated off the cell walls. He leaned his head back to get a better look at Bela. Her cheeks burned a bright pink as she pouted. She held onto his sweater in a tight fistful and resolutely avoided his eyes.

Even though it likely wasn't Bela's intention, it was a needed icebreaker to the earlier unease that had been plaguing him. He could ignore the brewing conflict in favor of teasing Bela some more.

A great deal of effort was needed to swallow down his laughter. Ethan was still grinning when he spoke up, "Holy shit. Did – did you just cuss me out? Can you do it again? I don't think I heard you right."

The only indication that Bela had heard him was a twitch in her scowl.

"Hey – earth to Bela. Can you hear me?"

Bela's reply came in sharp. "I can hear you. I am just ignoring you."

Ethan bit down on his lower lip to prevent the next round of laughter from slipping out. Bela's cheeks blushed redder than he'd ever seen them. That furious pout she wore while glaring at the wall was far more adorable than it should be.

It was fun being petty and tormenting Bela. This was the least he could do to get back at her for locking him in a cage. But, he also felt the tiniest bit bad for getting her this flustered and embarrassed.

"Hey." Ethan's voice was gentler this time. He ducked his head slightly to try and meet her gaze. "Tapeworm, look at me."

Reluctantly, Bela turned her head. She rested her chin on his chest and gave an irritable hum in question.

Ethan drew it out, taking the time to peer into Bela's eyes. The frown she'd twisted her face into lost its edge, and it cued Ethan to whisper, "Fuck you too."

It was Bela's turn to have the laugh startled out of her as a warm huff. There was a roll of the eyes as she shook her head in a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You think you're funny, do you?"

"I know I am."

Bela didn't dignify that with a response. She instead regarded him for a while longer as the silence drew on, and she wore a debatably fond smile on her features.

Seeing as Bela was no longer glaring, it seemed like as good a time as any to ask about Rose. Better to do so now while the feeding was still fresh in her mind and her stomach. With a gulp, Ethan took a breath and opened his mouth.

Bela beat him to it.

"My mother's chambers on the second floor. That is where Rosemary is."

Once more, Ethan felt the wind leave him.

With a lick of her lips, Bela went on. "Our grand chambermaid, Tatyana – she is the one who cares for Rose while Mother is away."

Ethan was too speechless to get any questions in. Somehow, Bela had a knack for predicting what was on his mind. The information she gave lined up with his thoughts to an uncanny degree.

"I have not personally laid eyes on little Rose. Perhaps you could ask Tatyana for an update next time we pass her in the kitchens." Bela fidgeted with his sweater as she spoke. There was a noticeable seriousness in her uneasy voice, understandably so. Information such as this was something Bela shouldn't be giving lightly. If her mother knew of what Bela told him – or of their current position lying in bed – heads would probably roll.

Ethan's hand moved with a mind of its own, gently plucking Bela's fingers from his sweater. His own fingers moved in to entwine with hers, and it was one of the easiest things he'd done all night. His sanity and Bela's be damned, they could be crazy together for all he cared. It was paying off.

"I'm sorry that is all I know about your daughter." Bela's frown was genuine. It was a frustration born of apparently not being able to help further. "If I learn more, you will be the first to know."

If Bela wanted to help some more, then she could let him go. She did have all the power to let him walk free. But with how much progress they'd made in a single night, Ethan didn't want to risk undoing it all.

Ethan squeezed Bela's hand and finally found his voice. "Nothing to be sorry for, Bela." He paused to bite his lips for a beat. He had to suppress the urge to express his gratitude with his lips to her forehead. "Thank you."

The fact Bela had volunteered the information of her own volition was a notable milestone in itself. A week ago, Ethan wouldn't have expected her to give the information unprompted. The last time intel on Rose had been given, it was in a clear exchange for his blood – practically a trade deal. Bela had leveraged that information in exchange for his cooperation in the feeding.

An argument could be made that perhaps Bela felt there was an unspoken agreement between them. That his blood would always come with a price of information. Yet for reasons unknown – probably due to his mounting insanity – Ethan didn't think that was the case. It was apparent that Bela had given Rose's precise location in the castle freely and willingly. It was in the same way that he had readily offered his blood when Bela hadn't requested for it.

It was a significant step beyond their trade deals of blood for intel. Another line in the sand blown away and crossed without second thought. It wasn't at all unlike their dwindling physical boundaries, considering their current position wrapped around each other.

This – all of this – was a sign of things to come. Another stride forward to getting Rose and getting out. Ethan felt the certainty all the way in his bones.

For now, though, Ethan felt the tiredness just as deeply in his bones. It was a long, emotionally tumultuous night for both of them. The yawn crept up on him before he could stifle it, and his eyelids began to grow heavy.

Bela broke the silence with an audible sniffle in her voice. "Can I stay the night?"

It tugged at Ethan's heartstrings to hear her voice so small and vulnerable – so unlike the headstrong and sharp Bela he'd come to know. With how she rested her head flat on his chest, Ethan couldn't get a glimpse of Bela's face, and the apparent tears she was hiding from him.

"Bela, what's wrong?"

She was quick to answer with a clearing of her throat and a soft voice, "Nothing."

Ethan squeezed Bela's hand as he assured her, "It's not nothing. You can tell me."

Bela let out a sound akin to a choked laugh. She shook her head slightly, inadvertently rubbing her face against Ethan's sweater. "It's nothing, I swear."

Before Ethan could ask again, Bela sniffed and reiterated, "If you don't want me to stay, I can go."

"Stay." Ethan pressed a kiss to her blonde head before he could think twice about it. He whispered, lips brushing against her hair, "Please."

Cuddling up to Bela and sharing body warmth sounded like a good way to fend off the chilly atmosphere and the nightmares alike. It looked like he wasn't at all alone in that sentiment.

With a shaky breath, Bela tucked herself closer and whispered, "Thank you."

What it was that brought Bela to tears was a mystery to Ethan. If he were a betting man, he would guess some long-lost memory had been dredged up and brought to surface, and consequently hit her where it hurt. Ethan yearned to know more of the inner machinations of Bela's mind, for no other reason than to better help her and soothe her worries. It was only right that he made the effort to do so. He owed her that much.

Yet as his curiosity and concern alike were gnawing at him, he didn't want to press Bela. At the moment, it seemed all she wanted was to get some rest while tangled up with him.

He didn't quite know what to say to her, since she'd made it a point to brush off his questioning. Instead, Ethan held her just as Bela held him not long ago.

Time trickled by. With how silently Bela wept, it was impossible to measure time in grief as he did with his own despondent sobs in the loneliness of the past few days. Instead, one could measure time in the small, physical ways he tried to soothe Bela's woes. In the idle patterns his thumb drew on the back of her hand. In the slow, feather-light trail his fingers traveled up and down her back. In the warm, even breaths against her hair as he nuzzled into her blonde locks.

In time, Ethan found Bela to be even more still than she'd previously been. She was motionless in his arms, and a part of him wondered if she'd fallen asleep. That was, until she whispered out, "Good night, little one."

Bela's mumble against his sweater was heartachingly intimate. Again, with that damn word that they should have no right to be exhibiting as captor and captive.

"Sleep tight, tapeworm."

This just wasn't something that two people like them should be able to have. They were supposed to be on two opposite sides, guarding themselves and their vulnerabilities from one another.

That line they drew in the sand had been blown away. There was no black and white to it anymore, no two opposing sides. It was all a complex, grey mess; it was just about as tangled as Ethan and Bela physically were in that very moment.

As he had been doing more and more often these days, Ethan didn't bother thinking too hard about it. There were better things to tune in on, such as the rhythmic sound of Bela's breathing, or how comfortable she looked using his chest as a pillow.

It wasn't long before the drowsiness crept up on Ethan and sleep finally took him into its serene embrace.

For the first time in a week, Ethan's sleep was peaceful, undisturbed, and free of monsters and gunfire alike.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading this chapter! As always, be sure to drop a fave, follow, hit that bookmark button, all that stuff! Do please leave me a review and let me know how you felt about this chapter - the much anticipated conclusion to the "meaty" three chapters that were originally supposed to be one chapter lol.

So... this one was a lot, I think. Another peek into Bela's past, the long awaited third feeding being much steamier than the last two, and Bela harboring a little angst that she prefers not to elaborate on in the meantime. At least she has Ethan to cling onto for that.

I'd also like to take this time to announce that I won't be updating this story next week as per my usual schedule. Normally I have my rough draft for the next chapter ready by the time a chapter goes live. I've been having a really hard time doing that lately, mostly because of real life stuff keeping me busy, plus the difficulty of penning Ethan's thoughts down without making them sound like a broken record.

The next chapter should go up in two weeks time, and I'll probably resume my regular schedule from there. Hopefully the extra time will give me the break I need to avoid burnout, and get a better handle on Ethan's messy mind. I'll probably respond to your comments around the one week mark, just as a sign of life that I'm still around and intend to come back.

Also, a quick plug of Hellraptor's Bound By Sins of the Past. That'll surely help satisfy your Bethan cravings while waiting for my next update. Be sure to send them some love. We're a small niche, and we gotta stick together around here!

Thank you all once again for the overwhelming support. I keep saying this, but I *cannot* say it enough: this story wouldn't be possible without all of you. I hope you all have a lovely week ahead, and I'll catch you soon.