This is the 4th part of my fic, i've gotta get some hot hotness going soon I can't resist! Enjoy... (now from my characters P.O.V)

He asked if I could sing. I always used to, in the freezing halls back where I was born. I used to stand high on the ice encrusted balconies and sing from my heart, I used to sing at such a pitch that the snow would fall down off the mountainsides and crush everything in its path. I'd sing until the frigid air froze my throat and crystals had started to form in my long white hair, my perfect white dress would be stiff with the cold and I'd have snow in my eyelashes. I could use my voice in battle, sing a note that would vibrate the enemies blood and cause it to pour out of them in gallons, but it wasn't my style. I preferred to fight with cold, with ice sharper than knives that could cut without even a touch, I'd fight with ice mirrors or purely the crippling pain of frostbite. My attack was both beautiful and deadly, my touch was both alluring and cold.

I closed my eyes for a long second before answering his question. "I can sing like you've never heard," I replied and stalked out of the room. I enjoyed the look on his face as I walked away from him. Ass, I thought. He thinks I've fallen for him already.

"Don't flatter yourself" I muttered. I swung my long white hair and headed into the darkness of the inner caves, Konan had shown me where my room was but apart from that I hadn't seen the rest of the place. Guiltily I remembered I didn't even know where my brother was being kept. I'd been so preoccupied with...Hidan. I thought about him and the way he spoke, the way his hair was always just so, the way he moved and stood and acted. And that wierd thing with the wound in his chest. I was just aching to know more about him. Aching...

"Thinking about me?!" Jeered a male voice from behind me. I spun around in time to see the firelight from the torches shine off silver hair and pick out another pair of purple eyes. I hated fire, but I loved the way it shone in his eyes, the eyes that bore no reflections. His cloak hung off his thin frame and showed his bare chest. The rosary sparkled on his chest as he moved closer to me, close enough that I could reach out and touch.

"I was not wasting my time thinking about the likes of you" I shot back. "Not even for an instant" I added quietly when my eyes rose to meet his. I was tempted, oh so sorely tempted to reach out and touch him. He moved first, flicking a hand to lightly brush my cheek then down my neck, fingers casually undoing a button on my cloak. Without deliberation I reacted, viciously backhanded him right across his beautiful face, the ring I now wore caught and tore his skin. The wound bled but his eyes registered no surprise or hurt, there was that look again! The look I'd been so captivated by earlier was back. The smouldering deep rooted pleasure. I was bewitched by him. With a slight half smile he was gone again. Why did he have to be so fucking mysterious?

I witnessed his next ritual. Unable to contain my excitement for long I escaped the others and their constant pestering. I slipped away during a particularly heated argument about what art really was and wound my way through the deep dark halls in search of his voice. Just the voice or the eyes. I craved him like I'd never craved anything before. My footsteps echoed hauntingly on the cold stone, my pale skin glowing oddly in the half light. I picked up a faint whispering and turned into a doorway. He was kneeling on the floor in the centre of a ballroom; the light was shining in through the dusty air right onto him and showing up the unsightly stains on the floor. As I entered the room he looked up but didn't stop his praying. I said nothing as I made my way to his side and also knelt down.

"Frio," I started at the use of my name, "Frio, why are you here?"

I shuffled uncomfortably, "I'm here because I'm curious about you, and I want to know."

"This could go on for a while yet" he commented and I shrugged, after a brief look he resumed his praying. I listened to his words, but he was speaking a language I didn't understand. It sounded like an old language and I then remembered the fact that he was immortal. Just how long had he been around? I didn't get time to muse, however.

"Seeing as you're here, can you help me with the ritual?" he asked so innocently. I obliged, not at all reluctant and within minutes found myself without my cloak, holding a cold metal pike up to his bare chest.

"Tell me again, what am I supposed to do with this?" I quavered

"Just push...push it in" he replied, his breath was coming in short sharp gasps of excitement, "you have to...have to hit the heart"

I took a breath and steadied my hand. With a sadistic smile which set him grinning I plunged it into his chest. With two hands now on the cold metal I rammed it home, burying it deeper and deeper inside. Blood trickled out of the corners of his mouth and poured down his chest. His eyes were now closed and he was breathing heavily. He shuddered and I moved in closer, with him rendered helpless I was free to do what I wished. I gripped his shoulders and pushed him to his knees, then crouched and licked the blood away from those soft lips of his. He was still impaled on the pike and I placed a pale hand on it, intending to pull it out. At the last moment I changed my mind and twisted it around inside of him, this produced a groan.

I leaned in close to his ears and murmured, "Let me feel what you feel. Your pain...make it mine too" I knew he could do that with his victims in battle, the voodoo-doll idea. That way I could feel everything he felt and not die, after all being skewered on a pike would surely finish me. I twisted once more to get his attention and he grabbed my hair with a blood covered hand. One hair was tweaked from my head and twirled round his finger. In battle he would need to obtain blood to inflict the full voodoo effect, apparently one hair was enough for this. One mumbled phrase and a weak hand seal and it hit me.

Suddenly I was flat on my back; the searing agony was ripping through me. I dug my nails into my palms to keep from screaming out but it was no use. I arched my back, it felt as though I was on fire. The pain never dulled or changed it was just a constant burning affliction running though me. I gasped for air but none came, then he twisted the pike again and sent me into another blissful torment. Wait...did I just say blissful? I opened my streaming eyes and noted a look of surprise on his face.

"This...this is" he croaked though bloodied lips, then threw his head back and cried out. Sometimes during the rituals something happened, something changed. It was as if his god reached down and brushed our tiny lives with the tips of his fingers. The slightest connection could kill people, change lives or turn your greatest fear into a pleasure so consuming you'd forgot everything that came before. It happened now, here, in this room. To him but also to me.

I felt it next, the pain seemed to explode inside, growing and changing. It was in my blood, in my air, in my body and soul. Bliss one second then glowing pulsing hurt the next. Hurting...hurting so good, the red hot sensation ignited in me and him. Until we screamed out. I was kneeling with my hands behind me and my head rolled right back, his pose was similar, the blood was pooling around us but we paid it no heed, each lost in their own private euphoria. The racking punishment came in waves they radiated out from my chest and back, I couldn't see, he couldn't breathe. Pale hair turned scarlet and violet eyes became bloodshot. As the pleasure began to fade I called out to his God,

"Jashin-sama, why can't I live forever!?" I pleaded to the heavens as the excruciating spark went out.

Close to collapse I laid back and watched the darkness advance into my dulled senses. My lilac eyes glazed over and as my head touched the floor the crimson lake mingled with my hair. Pale delicate hands stretched above my head, I lay still, and my white top was soaked in Hidan's blood. My make up was smudged from the tears and the sweat. I lay panting on the very edge of consciousness, my eyes were open only enough to watch Hidan as he sat hunched over. With a grunt he pulled the pike from his chest and threw it with a clang to the floor. One more pang of stinging pain and the spell was broken, the jutsu had worn off. I looked under my shirt and on the same place on my chest where the pike went into Hidan there was a big red circle. As I watched it blossomed into a shape, a clear shape. It was a plain circle, no, a circle with something inside, a circle with a...triangle on the inside. I quickly buttoned my shirt and looked hastily across at Hidan, he hadn't noticed and I figured I shouldn't tell him. I shouldn't tell him I was bearing the mark of his God.