A/N: This was a prompt from JeremyandJane who gets KUDOS for being my first prompter! Kinda dark. But its Dentiss so what else is it supposed to be?!

I don't want to be your tourniquet
For minor lacerations
Don't wanna be your Romeo
Because you're no Goddamn Juliet

-"Succubus" Five Finger Death Punch-

"Lauren, no! I said no! Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?!" Ian yelled as she stalked down the hall away from him. They'd been bickering all afternoon and she'd had enough. She had a massive headache and his constant bitching was scraping her patience. Of course, she'd started this fight, because she needed an excuse to leave him. Not because she really wanted to but she had no choice...

"Tsia, whats the plan? I've been moved in here for two weeks now. He hasn't said anything we can use," Emily said quietly into the cell phone. She was alone, in the stables, getting ready to go riding, but she could never be too careful.

"We need to get him to want you," Tsia's voice said over the phone.

"Well he does, obviously, he asked me to move into the Villa didn't he?" Emily said rolling her eyes.

"You need to make him jealous. Make it so he has no choice but to tell you everything, just to get you to stay with him." Tsia said.

"Tsia... That is the worst idea I've ever heard." Emily protested.

"Actually it's not. Psychology indicates that men are more enamored with their partner if they feel their woman is being courted by another man, preferably another alpha." Another British voice came on the line.

Emily rolled her eyes again, Clyde, of course this would be his idea...

"Okay, psychology aside, do you understand what a shit storm this could cause? Ian has a very explosive temperament when things arent going according to plan." Emily protested again, trying to make them see reason. "He could quite literally kill me and whatever innocent schmuck is with me!"

"Well then don't pick someone innocent, go out to the pub and find the most attractive lowlife you can find and take him home. You still have your apartment right?" Clyde said. Emily could see his cocky smirk through the phone practically.

"Very funny, I already did... he's inside." Emily said sarcastically, through gritted teeth. "Anyways, what about me?!" She asked.

"Doyle won't kill you, Em. Out of all of the women and relationships we've done backgrounds on all of the women are still living, in prison mostly, but alive." Tsia said reassuringly.

"Fine. I'll do it tonight, but I swear to god if this goes bad I will haunt you two from the grave! Ohhh this is gonna suck," she hissed, sighing in resignation, hanging up without a goodbye.

"Ian, I have a goddamn headache and I want to go out. I'll have a few drinks, dance a little and I'll be back in a few hours!" Lauren said over her shoulder. She was an independent woman and she'd do what she damn well pleased. Or at least that was the mindset she had to have. She'd been in a "bitchy" mood since her conversation with Clyde and Tsia so as to "spark the flame" of Ian's temper and make him not willing to want to go anywhere with her. She knew he would follow her and see her take someone home and he would be out of his fucking mind with jealousy.

She changed quickly into a brown leather corset dress she'd procured from some lingerie store in Paris. The dress was indecently short and made her cleveage look more astounding than it already was. She was doubtful she'd make it out of the villa wearing something this trampy but it was her job... She snorted to herself... She was basically a high end government call girl.

Ian was pacing in the foyer, as she came practically skipping down the stairs, nude Louboutin's in one hand, a matching leather clutch in the other. She had a gun in a holster almost violating her privates in order to keep it invisible in the dress she was in.

"Yeahh, right. I don't think so, Love." Ian said putting one hand on the door to block her exit. "Over my dead body are you leaving in... that." He said eyes skimming down her figure almost longingly.

"That can be arranged, Ian." She said pulling the gun out and rolling her eyes. "Get out of my way, Sweetheart so I don't have to use this. I'll be home later." She said politely. He didn't move. "Ian! Come on! Why are you being such a dick?" She yelled. She couldn't really shoot him, but she HAD to leave in order to accomplish her task.

"Why are you dressed like such a whore?" He asked snidely. Emily felt her body go numb. He'd never openly insulted her before. But she had to keep in mind, Lauren Reynolds would not be addressed like that. She would not take shit from any man. She dropped the pair of shoes in her hand and let out a full open hand slap across his face. Oh, fuck me... she thought. That had not been a good idea. She saw his eyes glaze over with a layer of outright ice and before she knew it one of his feet came between her ankles as he pushed her to the ground. Her head throbbed as it hit the marble floor with a resounding crack. She would definitely need a drink now. His forearm was across her throat pushing hard.

"Give me one good reason I should let you walk out of this house!" He growled.

She clawed at his arm trying to shove him off of her to no avail. He was much stronger than he looked. Suddenly a high pitched shriek caught their attention and Ian automatically looked up towards the sound of the child's squeal. Declan was running back and forth on the balcony of the staircase with a sheet wrapped around him like a superhero. He was squealing and giggling, not paying any attention to the adults wrestling on the floor. But the shriek had been enough to distract Ian into loosening his hold against her throat. She took the opportunity to shove her knee into his groin and grab her shoes. She bolted out the door as he was doubled over in pain.

She made it to the black on black Porsche that had been given to her as a "housewarming gift" when she'd accepted his invitation to move into the villa.

5 Hours Later

She was incredibly drunk, but this was working out just as planned... so far. She had 19 missed calls and 23 text messages from Ian. She'd met an acceptable looking well known, extremely wealthy drug kingpin who was perfectly willing to accompany her back to her place to "continue the party in private". As they were leaving her phone vibrated again. This was the time to exact her plan.

"Yes?" She answered dryly.

"Lauren, I'm sorry. Will you please come home already?" Ian asked from the other end. He sounded... lonely; and she'd only been gone for a couple hours! Thats what happens when you spend six months inseparable from each other, literally never spending a single night apart. Her inner conscience admonished her.

"I-I-I donnt think so, Ian... I'm headed home. I'm gonna go back to my place for a few days, I think. I needa clear my head y'know." She said drunkenly.

"Lauren, no. I'm sorry I pushed you. I swear I never meant to lay a hand on you, Love. Just come home please?" Ian begged. She almost felt bad for him. He sounded so innocent through the phone. And she really wanted to go back to him. She wanted to take a hot shower and snuggle against his chest, but she had to secure their relationship and she'd already spotted one of Ian's men at the club.

"Ian, iiif you really love me you'll give me a night to cool off." She said slurring slightly.

"Lauren Love, please, you're drunk... Just let me come get-" She hung up the phone quickly and grabbed the man she was taking home.

She made it back to the apartment in one piece, very conscious she was being badly followed by one of Ian's henchmen. Man couldn't stick to the shadows or make it anymore obvious he was following them. As she and her fling entered the building she saw the man on the phone and she knew she didn't have more than 20 minutes before Ian showed up. And she was not looking forward to that particular confrontation.

They entered her first floor apartment and immediately she started taking his clothes off.

"Damn girl, you in a hurry..." The man slurred in drunken Italian.

She answered by kissing him aggressively, letting him throw her onto the futon bed in her scantily furnished flat. She wiggled the dress up around her waist and thanked god almighty she'd thought to bring a condom with her. She wasn't worried about getting pregnant, but this guy was a wealthy drug dealer and she didn't fancy getting an STD. She hated doing this to Ian, because in her heart he'd never been unfaithful to her and really didn't deserve the emotions she was putting him through, but she had no choice... She hated herself at that moment, she hated her job, she hated her team for suggesting such a plan. But she was the one to take one for the team... she always was.

Ian sat in the black Mercedes outside of Lauren's apartment. Most men would be shaking with rage, but he was eerily calm. He knew two things: he wanted Lauren, and whoever was in the apartment had just signed their own death certificate. He sat there for a good hour, plotting exactly how he wanted this scenario to end. He didn't want to hurt her, he loved her. But this... couldn't be tolerated. Also, if he hurt her, there was a good chance she would never come back to him. When he saw the last light in her apartment go out, he made his move. He walked silently to the door and picked the lock. She was a fool if she thought a locked door would stop him.

He slipped into the darkened apartment and heard drunken snores come from across the room. He shook his head in derision. Idiots. Both of them. Lauren knew better than to leave herself so unprotected in their line of work, it was a good way to get yourself killed. He walked over to the futon where Lauren laid, makeup smeared across her face and he wanted to strangle her. He didn't understand what he'd done wrong. Why she would do this to him. He loved her, he'd given her everything she could ever ask for. Except one thing. He refused to talk about Declan, she knew there was a connection between them and he'd given subtle hints but when she'd pressed he'd averted the topic. It was too dangerous, too painful to talk about Chloe and Declan. They'd had intense fight about it, but he'd thought she'd let it go after they'd made love afterwards... She'd never mentioned it again.

Well if she wanted honesty, that's what she'd get. With a rude awakening... Stealthily he walked around to the man's side and pulled out a switchblade. Flicking it open, he smiled at the satisfying clicking sound it made. With one quick movement the man's blood began pouring from ear to ear his eyes wide and unable to even gasp in suprise. Lauren just snored, hand grasping the gun he knew was hidden under her pillow. He walked over to the chair that sat at the tiny kitchen table and waited for her to wake up.

Morning came and with it came a massive hangover, and the deepest feeling of guilt. Emily struggled to sit up, she looked over to kick whoever it was she'd taken home out before Ian came knocking. She let out a strangled gasp as she looked at the dead man laying next to her, throat slit and eyes widened in terror. By the looks of it he'd been dead for hours and she usually prided herself on having a strong stomach for depravity but she couldn't stop herself from vomiting over the side of the bed. Coughing and gagging she looked around the flat and she saw him. Ian Doyle. Sitting at her kitchen table reading a newspaper and drinking a beer from her mini fridge, completely unphased by the dead body laying not 20 feet away from him. Of course he's not phased Emily, he's a psychopath! Her inner profiler screamed. She vomited again, only this time out of dread and dry gin.

"Morning, Love." He said, not bothering to look away as she hurled the contents of her stomach onto the ugly 70s shag carpet. She wiped her mouth with the back of one hand cautiously slipping the other one under her pillow. "You aren't going to need that Lauren..." Ian said dryly. She froze, that bastard wasn't even looking! He was good, she'd give him that.

"I-Ian what are y- why- did you do this?" She sputtered out, sliding out of the bed slowly. Her left arm was covered in dried blood from the man's neck and no doubt in her sleep she'd smeared it everywhere. This made her want to puke again but she didn't. She stumbled around the bed moving towards Ian as he stood up from the table.

"I warned you, Lauren." Ian said.

"B-bu-but I dont understand.. I didn't bring him here?" She asked, playing dumb. The best way to survive this encounter was to pretend she was too drunk to know what she was doing. He advanced on her slowly, and she backed up.

"You knew exactly what you were doing. You picked him up the minute you walked into the club!" Ian said raising his voice slightly.

"N-no, wai- I did?" She said furrowing her eyebrows in mock confusion. She clutched her head in pain as every syllable he spoke sounded like he was screaming.

He kept approaching her as he cornered her, she had both hands against her head and she forced tears to come, in fake shame. Well, it wasn't so fake. She felt horrible, she really did, but she had to play this part well.

"Why, Lauren?" Ian said, in almost a whisper as he pinned her against the wall.

"I-I dont know, I guess may-maybe I was testing you?" She said shaking her head, making the lone tear drop slide down her cheek as she looked him in the eye.

"For what? You know how much I care about you! Isn't that enough?" Ian demanded, slamming the wall next to her head, making her jump. Her head throbbed from her excessive drinking.

"Y-yes, I know, but-" She started

"But what?!" He yelled. She winced in pain as his voice was like the noise you hear of a chainsaw mixed with an Irish heavy metal band.

"I-I just want you to be able to tell me everything! But it's-it's like you have some sort of wall built!" She wailed, playing on his sympathy. He relaxed just a tiny bit, breathing heavily.

He reached up to touch her face, and she flinched, but he just caressed her face, thumb wiping away the fake tears she was shedding.

"Lauren, I will... You just need to give me time, I have to be able to trust you," he emphasized, pressing a little harder on her cheek. She winced in slight pain, sure it would leave a mark.

"I-I'm sorry, Ian," she whimpered. "It- this won't happen again. I swear it," she begged, still cornered by him.

He let go of her face and gave her some space. "I know..." he said taking her by the hand. As she took it, he leaned in and whispered, "Because next time that will be you over there..." She felt all the blood rush from her head and nodded shakily. As they walked hand in hand out to the black Mercedes, Emily was sure she looked a like a hot mess. The morning sun was blinding and she felt like her skull was going to explode. Ian held the door open for her and she looked at him, about to ask if he'd brought anything she could throw up in, but before she could he held up a plastic bag.

"Next time Love, lay off the Gin..." He said chuckling shutting the door as she glared at him. She hated her job...