A/N

MAJOR editing done in this chapter, due to it's (previously) seriously smutty nature. Still lemony, of course, but the original version is, as you may have learned by now, in the full story' new location. Link from my profile. (I also made a banner for it there, hope you like.)

I find while I am editing that I can leave a lot of the hot scenes in place, as I took care when writing to build more inner passion than porn – but there WERE really 'porny' sections too – those are the ones that have gone. I've marked the spots where the outtakes are. You can still enjoy the story (I hope) without the graphic scenes.

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She opens and closes her eyes a few times in rapid succession, wishing with every blink that he will be gone the next time her eye lids open. It never happens. He is right there. Not only that, he is completely present and over powering, like the sun on a hot day.

He leans forward and extends his hand to her with the intention of helping her get back on her feet. 'Are you all right there, little one? No whip lash from the crash?' His self-assured smile infuriates her. "No!" she grumbles between gritted teeth "and now you have to make good on your promise to take me home!"

'Excuse me? Whatever caused this new delusion of yours? Was I not clear when I described the rules?' He looks delightfully confused and self-assured at the same time. It infuriates her.

She is still on the ground, having refused his offer of help. She is beginning to reconsider this decision as she realizes it puts her at a decided disadvantage. Ah well, too late now. "Yes you were clear. I reached the forest without being caught, now take me home!" She knows she is bending the truth with her claim, but it is one she needs to make. She is furious, strong, and ready to argue. What she is not ready for is his laughter.

'But, my pet, you did not reach the forest! Perhaps, had you not wasted your first 15 seconds you would have reached your goal? It was a fair deal; I gave you enough time to have a small but realistic chance to get away. Instead of reaching the forest you ran straight into me. I must say the feel of your body pressing into me with such force was… inspiring.' He smiles a mirthless smile at her, one void of humor and full of unspeakable threats. To what the impact of her body may have inspired him, she truly did not want to know.

"That's not true, I…" she begins, ready to argue, but Elijah has had enough. Much as he hates to repeat himself, he finds the situation requires it, and so he yet again places his finger against her soft lips and speaks the words; 'Shhhh. Quiet, little one.' She immediately falls into silence and stares at him with wide, frightened eyes, unaware and uncertain of what he will do next. He cocks his head inquisitively to one side and studies her. Dealing with these emotional humans is always such a learning experience; he tries to make the most of it when he can. Now, however, it is beginning to bore him. He has other priorities when it comes to this little human. He has humored her long enough, he decides to himself.

The right time and place is not now, not here. But a little taste, what is the harm in that? He moves closer into her personal space, causing her to back up involuntarily and completely unaware that this is the reaction he's looking for. He guides her backing motions with his body, leaning this way and that, until he has maneuvered her into exactly the place he wants her to be. Her eyes widen in fear as she takes another step backwards and feel her back pressed up against the wide stem of an old oak, the thickness of its stem effectively stopping her from moving further in any direction but forwards. And forwards is occupied by an ancient, devastatingly handsome, mortally dangerous, increasingly aroused Original.

Yes, he could have grabbed her and just placed her there, but there is sweet satisfaction to be gained from maneuvering her right to the point he wants her to go. Pleasure in studying her face as she realizes she has put herself, by her own actions, exactly where he wants her to be. The monster in him revels in the feeling.

Fear.

Arousal.

Arousal and fear. Fear and arousal.

Fearousal.

That truly is the combination of emotions that smells and tastes the best, absolutely delicious. Exquisite. The scent of it fills his nostrils now. She produces pheromones at a mad rate, his little one. She is terrified of him. She wants him. She wants to run from him. She wants to give herself to him. He feels every scent clearly and he knows that, no matter what she will say or do from now on, she is ready for him. Maybe she doesn't even know it herself, but he has brought her to the brink of carnal insanity. In a crazy way there was probably even a part of her that wanted him to catch her.

She had five minutes, she wasted almost a tenth of that time staring at him before taking off. He was not lying when he said he gave her a fair chance. Had she focused on getting away from the very beginning the way she had begun to focus once she reached the locked front door, she would have reached the forest and he would have been honor bound to let her go. Not that he is complaining about the outcome. Not when his whole being is being consumed by the delicious scent of her fearousal.

So now, here she is, backed up against a tree, inches away from him.

Or maybe just one inch.

In fact, maybe no distance at all.

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He doesn't quite know when he stops thinking. She doesn't quite know when she stops fleeing. It just happens, suddenly his hand is digging into her hair and fisting it, angling her head just so as he leans in to claim her mouth, a willing target where parted lips allow his tongue entrance. Suddenly she is not fighting it but finds her hands locked around the nape of his neck, moaning into his kiss and lifting one leg to wrap it around his waist. Suddenly the sensation of his throbbing erection poking at her through their clothes causes a geyser to wake deep inside her, flooding her with enough natural lubricant to prepare her to take his girth and love it, not be hurt by it. Mother Nature really has it down pat.

Her hands are back above her head, pinned there by his strong grip. This time she arches her back by her own accord, pushing her lace clad breasts into his chest, leaning her head back against the bark exposing her throbbing pulse point and every inch of the desire she feels for him.

His hand, dexterous as a viper, slips inside the hem of her jeans, inside the edge of her laced (he can feel the lace against the back of his hand) panties. Without warning he has two fingers inside her red hot heat, feeling his way around and finding the spot that makes her shiver and shake. One of her hands is released from its grip and guided to the right place in front of him, in-between the two of them, rubbing against the intense hardness of his desire, marveling at the sheer size of it.

He feels ready to take her then and there. In fact, he wants nothing more. But, he has to remind himself; there was (is?) a purpose to this. That purpose was not to give her what she wants. There is still a lesson to be learned here. With eleven plus centuries of experience, he does not doubt his ability to bring her pleasure in whichever way he sees fit. It does not have to be the way she is asking for. No, there is a lesson to be learned and going along with what she is begging for will not do the trick, no matter how much he wants it too.

Finally he manages to curb his desires and, after one final passionate kiss, tears his lips from hers and removes his fingers from her velvet, and very wet, folds. He licks her fluids off his fingers, tasting her, before he picks her up bridal style and returns to the estate as fast as he can, leaving her confused and quite unbalanced from the sudden change in scenery and his unexpected shift in priorities.

Even as she struggles to clear her mind of the dizziness, she becomes aware that he is carrying her to a different wing of the house than she was in before, an area she has never previously been allowed into. The look of the place, from the paintings on the wall to the few pieces of furniture present in the hallway, makes it look and feel older than the fairly modern wing she currently occupies. 19th century furnishings can only be considered 'fairly modern' when viewed in contrast to where he is taking her now.

Finally he stops outside a particular door, his brow furrowing as he clearly debates with himself weather or not this is the place, before coming to a decision and clearly relaxing, reaching out to grab the door handle as he does so.

This new room is a different place entirely to the parts of the mansion she has already acquainted herself with. It is a huge, open plan bedroom/en suite, with the bath tub in clear view from the center of the room. This center deserves a separate mention, as it hosts a ridiculously over-sized four post bed, where the posts and headboard are in finely detailed cast iron, painted a dull black with brass – no, that's to yellow – gold? – details.

What truly sets it apart from the areas of the house she has been allowed to explore however, are the little details. Like the steel hook in the ceiling above the tub, hosting a sturdy but light double chain ending in two padded leather wrist-cuffs. Or the four posts of the bed decked out with similar chains and cuffs. She notices the smooth, black, 100% Chinese silk sheets covering the bed before her eyes are drawn to the smooth, black, 100% Chinese silk blindfold, carelessly dropped on a pillow.

Then there is the wall opposite the large French window. She glances at it and then doesn't want to see it any more. This wall, within fairly easy reach from the bed, has hooks and holders that could be found in a carpenters work shop, holding his tools of the trade. Here they hold an assortment of tools, but the trade they belong to is the oldest in the world. She sees several whips, paddles, ropes, gags, and a multitude of things she does not recognize and really don't want to know what use they might be designed for.

He feels her whole being stiffen as her gaze falls on the wall and chuckles deep in his throat. 'Don't worry little one. None of those will be used today; this idea does not call for them.' She relaxes slightly before the full meaning of his words hit her. "Today?", "This idea?". This much too sharply indicates the possibility of another day, another idea, which does call for them.

Before she can duly process this new, frightening information, she is non-ceremonially dropped from his grasp to land, bouncing, in the middle of the bed. He watches her for a split second, bouncing up and down on the black silk, before swiftly turning her over. He uses every bit of his abilities that so surpass hers, and before she has time to take more than another breath she is face down on the bed, spread eagle with her wrists and ankles secured tightly in dark brown leather cuffs and the chains tightened just enough to immobilize her without stretching her joints.

He has done this before, clearly. The thought hits her unbidden and she wishes she never let it into her head. Why would you have a room set up like this otherwise? How many women have experienced his touch and wants on this very same bed? Why is there a part of her that feels jealous about that? While she ponders this, a hand is inserted below her pelvis, arching her back and angling her hips forward. A couple of soft but firm pillows are inserted below her, keeping her in this position and making sure her ass stays pushed up into the air.

It does not take a genius to figure out just how vulnerable she is in this position. Funny as it sounds, she really has not allowed herself to completely take in, to process, what it is Elijah wants from her in until this moment. Spread out and tied up on a huge bed, with her ass propped invitingly high by silk cushions, there really is no denying what the goal of this exercise is. At least she is still wearing her clothes, well, minus her shirt. She guesses he may have forgotten how to take off a pair of jeans when he chose to cuff her up. She is still contemplating just how to take advantage of the moment of relative freedom when he releases her ankles to remove her jeans when…

Strong, soft but calloused hands dig into her skin, burrowing under the waistline of her jeans to either side of her body. Then apparently he performs a feat of magic, she does not have another explanation for it. One moment she is dressed in sturdy but tight fitting Levis, the next moment her jeans are nothing but torn rags on the floor by the bed and the only thing separating her most private parts from his gaze are her pink and grey lace boy-short panties, perfectly matching her bra that has been visible since his first vampire speed actions.

He hums under his breath, actually hums, while ravaging her body with his eyes. 'Even better than what I imagined…' he says, apparently to himself before slowly drawing a line with his right index finger under her buttocks, right in that perfect spot where they meld into her things. His touch in that over-sensitive area stirs a fire she did not ever expect to feel around him into a slow, steady burn inside her. She can feel the heat reach the center between her loins. How can he have this effect on her? He is a monster. He is an abductor. He is a would-be rapist.

She hates him with all her heart, almost as much as she hates herself.

Because she wants him, with all her body.

She can feel the liquid pooling between her thighs and her breath growing shallower at the touch of his fingers and the caress of his gaze. When he reaches out and places his palm against one of her soft buttocks, she cannot help but try to push her body backwards into his hold, yearning for more.

She hears his content chesty purr at her actions, and feels him slipping a finger under the edge of her panties, briefly pulling them to the side. She manages to turn her head far enough to catch his content smirk as what he sees confirms what his other senses have already told him, she feels his deep chuckle vibrate through her body. 'Well, well. Someone is just aching for it, no?' He leans forward then; she can feel the buttons of his dress shirt dig into the skin of her bare back as he places his body on top of hers to reach her ears with his lips.

He speaks softly, so softly that she would not have been able to make out the words if they had not been so close, and uses too much air with his words, so that his breath hits the sensitive parts of her ear and causes goose bumps to form all over her body. As if his words would not have been enough.

'It is a good thing you already want it, little one, despite not wanting to want it. Because I will bring you to peaks higher than you ever thought existed. I will plunge you into depths deeper than the Mariner Grave. Your body and your soul belong to me now, and I will blow your mind.' He chuckles a bit to himself before continuing; 'Not before you blow me, of course.' She can feel him smirk into the back of her neck.

'You don't even know how completely you belong to me yet. But you will, my lovely, you will. I don't mind the merry chase. You know better than most by now what the hunt does to me.' With these words he brings his hips forward, grinding his still clothed erection against her bared cheeks, allowing her a good guess at just how important it is for her to be "ready", before being impaled by that. "Does he have to be out of this world in every sense?" she thinks to herself before catching her thought in anger at feeling anything but disgust for this creature behind her.

'Now, I do believe you are over dressed for this occasion,' he laughs in her ear before raising his body back up. 'Why don't we rectify that?' With these words he unclasps her bra and moves the shoulder straps down to her biceps, better equipped to withstand the strain than the soft flesh of her neck. The next moment she feels a sharp pain across her arms as straps digs into them and the muted snap of high class fabric ripping. Then what is left of her bra joins her jeans on the floor in the corner.

'There,' she hears him say 'It's a pity though; this was a really nice set. I appreciate you wearing it very much. Don't worry, my lovely, I will replace anything you want replaced, as long as I want to replace it.' He leans back and seems to sit still for a moment, until the movements and slight sounds make her realize he is unbutton his dress shirt and slipping it over his shoulders. A few seconds later there is a new garment, this one still in perfect condition, added to the pile in the corner.

"Elijah… I.."

'Shhhhhhh. I thought we already established this? No talking, little one. I did not bring you here for your conversation.' He seems to contemplate something 'Actually, I did not bring you here for your body either, but I must admit at this point it is an added bonus.'

"Then why did you bring me he…." She cuts her question short when she feels his body stiffen in anger and returns her face to the pillow. Her survival instinct takes over and causes her to continue, whispering under her breath "I'm sorry, I did not think" knowing that he would hear her. Furious at herself, her need and willingness to act like this, she is still flooded by a great sense of relief when she feels his body relax out of its angry stance in response to her words. 'Good, you can be taught to obey after all.'

He shakes his head slightly, seemingly to clear it. 'Right, sweet thing, I believe we had some corrective measures to execute? Let's see if this night will appease me. If not, there are still a fair few ideas to try out.' He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound exiting his presence. 'You have some amends to make, little one. Now, rule number one, two and three. Eat me. Please me. Love it. Do you understand?'

She merely whimpers in response, in equal parts offended/revolted and madly excited by his words. 'Enough talking' he concludes, leaning against her and allowing one of his hands to stroke along her inner thing, brushing against the moist fabric covering her core lightly at the apex of every turn. 'Enough running.' Both of his hands slide against her body, grab her hips and pull her sharply against his hard arousal. 'Enough with the pretending that you have a choice in this…' one of his hands leave her hips to unbutton and unzip his pants, dropping them and his boxers to his knees, leaving his swollen, veined hardness to rest between her still lace clad cheeks '… or that this is not what you want' he concludes, completely removing his clothing and moving his whole body around so that he is before her, in-between her cuffed, stretched arms, facing her. All she can really see and concentrate on however, is his beautiful, yes it really is beautiful, manhood – wrapped in one of his gorgeous fists and merely inches from her face.

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[1000 Word Outtake ]

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Released from the powerful hold his gaze held over her she feels a wave of shame wash over her. What did she do? How could she enjoy doing that? How on earth could she have stopped fighting so completely? What happened in the forest was understandable, but this? She gasps as a sudden realization hit her, along with a memory from a short while ago when his pupils dilated and contracted.

He compelled her! He compelled her to like it! That's why her panties are sodden, that's why her skin is on fire. Her shame for her wanton behavior begins to abate to be replaced by red hot anger before she realizes that ashamed or angered, she is still aroused. His compulsion over her ended when the oral section was over so why is her body still yearning for him? She lets out a small yelp and involuntarily arches her back at the feel of his open palm swatting her left buttock; the momentary sting over as soon as it started.

'I like the view from back here.' She hears his disembodied voice from somewhere behind her and feels his hand gently caress the very place it caused to sting a moment ago. His caress on her still tingling skin is unnervingly arousing; she cannot help but arch her back further, pushing her soft cheek against his caressing hand. Her reaction brings a rumbling chuckle from his chest.

'Well, well, who would have guessed? Maybe not even you.' His hand retracts from her smooth cheek before he brings it down, even sharper, on her other buttock. The sound of the swat rings to the air, mixed with her breathy yelp at the sharp sting. A moment later his hand is there again, this time in another soft caress right at the site of the impact. The sensation is exquisite, she can feel every ridge of his fingertips trailing over her semi-exposed and glowing backside, a quiet moan escapes her lips before she has the presence of mind to stop it. She can feel his chuckle rumbling through every fiber of her being, again. 'No, I don't think you knew before today, did you little one? You like it rough, who would have thought?'

"Not me." She does not know why the words pass her lips, but they come out in a breathy whisper. Somewhere along the line she has reached the conclusion that since this is happening anyway, AND her body clearly approves, she shouldn't fight it more than her pride demands. Much as she hates to admit it, she finds him crazily attractive. Admitting that she likes his dominant treatment of her comes even harder, but there's no denying it. Every action on his part arouses her further. She shouldn't feel that way, but she does.

'What was that?' He senses the slight shift in her demeanor and leans forward far enough for her to be able to catch sight of him from the corner of her eye. She twists her head as far as she can to actually look at him. He looks interested, not annoyed that she spoke, so she continues. "You asked who would have thought I'd like it rough. So I'm answering; Not me, I wouldn't know how I like it. It's not like I have more than a few experiences to draw from, and none of those were with a truly experienced man. " She blushes. Speaking this frankly truly is against her nature, but it needed to be said.

'Mhmm. So in your eyes, I am doing you a favor now?' his voice sounds incredibly amused while his hands travel up and down the back of her thighs, now stroking his thumbs along the sensitive line between buttocks and thighs, now stroking across her outer lips, still clad in lace.

"NO!" She even frightens herself with the strength of her response. He, however, seems unfazed. "You lied to me, gave me the hope of escape to increase your own pleasure, attacked me, half raped me in the forest, and compelled me to give you the first blow job I have ever performed, even compelled me to make it excite me. Now you are in the process of full on raping me, what you make my body want does not change that my mind says no. So NO, you are not doing me a favor, asshole!"

He can't believe what he's hearing and seeing. There she is, cuffed, chained and completely at his mercy, the taste of his cum still on her tongue, and still she finds it in her to chew him out. He should be furious; he should kill her for this. But he is not, and he will not. Instead he smiles to himself, a genuine smile that she can't see. She is a feisty woman, his little one. He likes that. He clearly scares her, smart girl that she is, and she is beginning to completely come to terms with the fact that her role is to oblige and his to decide, but that doesn't mean she will go down peacefully. He can truly respect that and when his eyes slide over her luscious form again he makes the decision that, even though this is punishment, from now on he will not only have her enjoy it, but use all his skill to have her love it. He knows he can, with just a slight effort, and her strength of heart and bravery deserves it. Of course, he does not share this sentiment; he just leans forward and chuckles into her ear.

'Let's see if you still hold on to that opinion once I'm done, shall we?'

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[4000 Word Outtake.]

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When it is finally over, he collapses on top of her, still careful to not put his whole weight on her. She is such a delicate little thing, she might get crushed. Had he needed to draw breath he would have needed to catch it, but he doesn't, so he leans over her to speak instead.

'So, little one, did you learn your lesson?' he purrs into the nape of her neck 'Is it safe to say I can release you without worrying that you might run away again tonight?'. The girl below him is breathing hard, still coming down from the incredible high he brought her to. "Yes Elijah. I will not run tonight. I give you my word." He smiles at her using his own words back at him and notices her use of 'tonight' that limits the extent of her promise, but is satisfied for the moment at least.

Carefully and tenderly he opens the clasps of the leather cuffs, first on her ankles and then on her wrists. She tenses and relaxes the taught muscles in her limbs once, twice, then squirms her naked body around to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his neck. Her breath envelops his throat like a silken scarf when she whispers to him "I am sorry. I will not disobey you again. There is no need to punish me further." He pulls her closer, feeling her whole body melt into his and relax in his arms. With some sense of amazement he realizes she feels secure in his arms, and that he enjoys making her feel that way. Funny how these things can work out, no?

'No, little one. There will be no reason to punish you further when you have learned your lesson. However, that time is not now. You are beginning to see the truth, but you are still fighting it. Don't you worry my sweet, I will take care of you and not allow you to come to lasting harm. But salvation is not within your grasp yet.' She tenses briefly, worried at his words but he continues 'Sleep now, my lovely. Tomorrow is a different day, a long day, but for now sleep in peace knowing that I am pleased with you. You did well, little one.' For the first time she does not resent his pet name, but allows it to make her feel safe and cared for. She snuggles her naked body closer against his, finding his muscled shoulder to rest her head and curls her body into his embrace before letting sleep swallow her into oblivion.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A few hours later the dawn finds her still curled up, but the body she was wrapped around is no longer there. She wraps herself in one of the ridiculous wisps of see through robes he has given her to wear, and makes her way downstairs. Following the sound of voices, she finally reaches his study.

She finds him comfortably seated in his large, oxblood leather recliner, having a cup of tea and comfortably chatting about anything and everything with a younger, strikingly handsome young man, who slightly reminds her of Elijah.

'Ah! Little one! I'm glad you are awake! Let me introduce you to Kol, my youngest brother.'

Another vampire then, another Original, even. The younger brother, Kol, lets his gaze glide over and take in every inch of her scantily clad body and then smirks at her with eyes completely devoid of human emotion. Cold as steel, hard as ice, or was it the other way around? There is no denying how handsome he is, almost irresistibly so, but one look into his eyes is enough to make her tremble all over. Never has she seen a vampire so out of touch with his human side, the mere sight of him terrifies her. Her heart sinks, even before it is wrapped in ice cold terror at Elijah's next words.

'Kol has a crucial role to play in my next idea, and has gracefully agreed to participate in its fulfillment. We will have so much fun!'.

FIN Ch.2

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A/N

Hey, I invented a word! One I think I will keep using. Fearousal, whaddayathink? That must be the most potent scent possible to a vampire.

My Elijah is a rather selfish BAMF, don't go looking for him falling in love in this fic any time soon. The lust is already there, in overdrive. As my previous story, 'He IS A Patient Man', shows you, he has found his mate, although she doesn't know it. He still doesn't know how to handle it though.