A/N: Hello to all my readers! Sorry I haven't update in a while- I been extraordinarily busy. But, I'm back with yet another chapter that you might find interesting...

Beta: The Duelist's Heiress (I'd like everyone to give a round of applause to her!)

Warnings: There are hints at sexual innuendos and/or reactions. Only hints, however. I'm a very discreet writer when it comes to the physical attraction but I let you know just enough to show you what's going. If you don't get it, that's fine. It's not focal to the story. (Shows what a terrible romance writer I am- BUT.... on to the story!)

"Why so silent, good messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good?"
-The Phantom, from The Phantom of the Opera.

Marik contemplated Téa with his cold, lavender eyes- not meaning to portray the cold emotion of stoicism but somehow, he managed the effect with years of habit as he saw Téa wincing nervously before him. She took a step back, as if subconsciously trying to dodge out of the way of danger.

He wasn't going to hurt her; at least, he hadn't intended to do so. Still, with his unforgiving manner, how could he expect any other reaction from her? It bothered him- the way she feared him. And it also bothered him that she had taken her escape at first chance. Was she so repulsed by him that she would rather take a risk with facing his cruel henchmen? What was he to her? Just a sadistic madman, out to dominate the world?

This bothered him.

Moreover, it also bothered him how he had purposefully left the door to her cell unlocked and open. It wasn't he wanted her to leave, it was just that a small part of his conscience had told him to do so, that it was for the best. Now that conscience seemed smothered once he had set out to look for her– in a primal pursuit to claim what was his.

But, the issue still stood: she wasn't his to claim. And he believed that bothered him the most.

His penetrating gaze transferred from her wary, blue eyes and down to her shaking hand that held a piece of paper. A piece of paper that seemed yellowed with age, quality, and wear. It looked familiar and he knew exactly what it was: a childhood photograph of him and his two older siblings: Odion and Ishizu. Marik felt his eyes widen just slightly as he looked back to Téa's eyes, seeing something that had not been there earlier.

Marik had long since learned the art of reading a human's emotions through the gateways of their eyes. He had to when handling with the mystics of mind control. But how much he could tell of a person's inner workings mostly depended on the sole individual. Females, when compared to males, were both harder and easier to read. They liked to display their emotions just so blatantly but also loved to mask them. But again, it all depended on the situation. Téa was no different. Fear was there, just as it had been as well as the stubborn ability to remain firm. But there was something else, something that hadn't been there before. And it unnerved him, forcing him to take a moment and regain his bearings.

She pitied him.

He was Marik Ishtar, owner of the Millennium Rod. Owner of the most powerful Egyptian god card- the Winged Dragon of Ra. Leader and master of the fierce and ruthless organization known as the Rare Hunters. Someone who had risen from living in poverty in the Egyptian desert to moving across oceans to be feared and respected by rivals. Why in the world would anyone want to pity him? Why would he need such frivolous regards? So she saw a picture of him when he was a child, it didn't mean anything! Everyone was a child at some point, everyone had their own bout of innocence when in the younger stages of life. Just because he had lost that, like any other human would, didn't mean he needed pity.

He took a step closer to her and, to his surprise, she didn't step back from him. So, he continued to approach her, finding it in his fancy to walk around Téa until he was standing right behind her, close enough to breathe down her neck. He refrained from any such impulse, however, as he placed his tanned hands on her shoulders. She continued not to shy away from him. And he bent down closer, to whisper in her ear.

"You don't seem as terrified as you usually do. At least, you've found no reason to fear me, for the moment. Or maybe you've found some sort of evidence to prove that I'm not worth fearing." He heard her breath catch in her throat, as if suppressing a protest to that statement, but continued to stay silent. Marik inhaled deeply, trying not lose his resolve. And, with the action, Téa's scent crashed into him in one stumbling moment. It was a soft smell, nothing like the extravagance of the generation's designer perfume that he had the displeasure of acknowledging when passing by some department store. Rather, it was more of a homely aroma. A hint of her lavender laundry detergent, some sort of strawberry shampoo, and maybe some mingled vanilla.

He found it strangely erotic.

Several ideas crossed his mind, most of which were none too appropriate for his own conservative morals, and he fought every impulse with as much strength he could call upon. It made him weak at the knees but the only reaction that could be discerned was the slight tightening of his grip on her shoulders. Somehow he managed to not make this grip as tight as the grip he had on her earlier; it may have bothered him that she pitied him, but he still didn't want to frighten her away, especially after the sudden burning sensation he felt coursing through his veins moments before. He leaned his head forward slightly, to see more of her expression and saw something very surprising to him.

She was completely oblivious to his sudden burst of arousal.

"Well?" he said, voice slightly muffled and husky after what had just occurred. "Why are you so quiet? Certainly you have no need to fear me, after seeing the proof before you of my innocence as a child. Am I correct?" Téa seemed to shift uncomfortably beneath his grasp.

"Well I… I…" she stammered, unsure of what to say. Marik exhaled, realizing that, with that last breath, he hadn't been breathing. His release of air seemed to clear his head a bit more, allowing rational thought to once again become his central focus. Becoming more impatient at her unresponsiveness, Marik turned her whole body around to face him, hands moving down from her shoulders to her upper arms. She still held the picture and he briefly looked down to it, considering it, before turning his complete attention to her. He felt as his eyes bore into hers, trying to force a somewhat soft look on his features but after seeing the reaction on her face, failed utterly.

"It is not a crime to speak in this situation, Téa," he said calmly. "If it will relieve your tension, you're not in any trouble here. And why should you be? You are, in fact, the guest." He felt a smirk minutely lift the corner of his mouth at his small joke. She, however, very deliberately avoided his eyes, averting them to his feet. He frowned; he didn't like being ignored. He shook her slightly.

"I said speak, Téa!" he growled, a more of a dark undertone lining his voice. He took a hand and placed it underneath her chin, titling it up towards his face so he could see eye to eye with her. Unintentionally, the movement of his hand was rather quick and seemed to take her by surprise. She took a sharp intake of breath as she was jolted forward. Instinctively, she grabbed the nearest thing to catch herself so she wouldn't fall. And the nearest thing she managed to take hold of was his shirt. In response to her momentary clumsiness, Marik dropped the hand on her arm to wrap around her waist.

Everything seemed to happen in a flash that it took a few painstaking moments for Téa to realize the fact that she was indeed quite close to Marik. She looked up at him and he saw her pale cheeks flush instantly. This stumped Marik, unsure what the reddening of her face could possibly mean. Was she embarrassed for the position she seemed inevitably thrown in? Or was it more? That she was actually shy with her feelings? The latter choice seemed to be a fleeting wish for Marik; he wasn't able to fully believe that someone could actually have feelings for him, beyond the platonic sense.

And, even more to his surprise, she didn't immediately let go of his shirt like he had expected. Instead, she stared up at him, for some time. And it wasn't until after a few minutes until she seemed to realize that she was actually holding onto his shirt- to which she hastily disengaged her own hand from. But Marik was quite intrigued by her hesitancy and wasn't going to let the moment pass. He smirked again, not removing his arm from around her waist and tilted her face up to him with the hand that was still on her face.

"What's wrong, Téa? You seem embarrassed." She frowned indignantly, her own pride showing through.

"I'm not… I'm not embarrassed," she objected, her blush refusing to fade away. Marik continued to smirk.

"If you are not embarrassed, what is it, then?"

"I don't-" she began to protest before he cut her off. Impulsively, his hand wandered from underneath her chin and found its way to her right earlobe. He stroked the soft skin of the earlobe, gently applying pressure with his forefinger. The spot, he knew, was a weak spot for most people- made them submit in an odd way- and, to his satisfaction, made her shiver uncontrollably. He tightened his arm around her.

It was in that moment, when her frame shook against his, that he felt the need, the raw desire to make Téa his to claim even though he had deduced earlier she was not his to claim. Her moment of weakness, her moment of submission to his touch, enthralled him beyond words. Reflexively, he wrapped his arm around her waist even tighter, bringing her body closer to his and he felt her small, airy breaths against his neck. Her first reaction was wrapping her own arms around him, due to the sheer close proximity. But, upon realizing what she did, she instantly removed them from his torso and gave a small whimper of uncertainty, confusion, and distress.

"Why do you seem surprised, Téa? You had to know this attraction was there. I know you feel it," Marik said. The last statement was entirely an assumption, going out on a limb for his own benefit. For his own self confidence. He didn't know whether or not this was way females reacted to physical attraction or spurs of the moment. And, he was afraid to be wrong because he realized that, most of all, he feared rejection.

-o-o-o-

Téa didn't know what to do because, even though she hated it, she did feel this odd attraction, this pull, this lust for Marik. An attraction or lust that went far beyond her better judgment.

Well, I hope you've enjoyed it. Please review and hopefully the next chapter will come out sooner!

-Nuit Songeur