Because I had cleverly predetermined that asking Paul where I should sleep was a bad idea, I went straight to Washington, ready with my hands on my hips.

"Okay, since you've trapped me here, mind giving me somewhere to sleep?" I demanded bluntly, staring at him straight in those unnervingly ice blue eyes. My mood was as dark and brooding as the skies, and the storm was ready to break with a deafening crack upon anyone who stood in range.

"Trapped you here?" He repeated, with a mocking, insincere look of astonishment. "My dear, how would you suggest I do that?"

"Shut up, I know your game." I grumbled. "The Big Piss Fight, the freaky thing you're keeping in your basement, getting Paul here because he's as twisted as you, sinking your house into a big pot of mud - I don't care. Just gimme a room."

His look of innocent surprise quickly settled into a knowing smirk, a nasty, condescending twist to his lips. "You're an interesting young woman, Miss Simon."

"I'm so glad you find me interesting, but how about we actually talk about what I asked? Okay?" I was distinctly aware that I was pushing it, but I was too grumpy and impatient to care.

"I am aware of your request," He replied coolly, brushing an imaginary bit of dust off his spotless suit. "Though it appears you're a bit too contentious to allow me to continue speaking without imposing your attitude upon me."

What was it with the clear dialect? The SAT words and the cool, perfect diction? Flawless pronunciation of every precise word? It was driving me crazy. Not that I usually minded people who could actually speak English, it's just, in his case- it was unnatural. Perfection, is, unnatural after all.

And so was Denis Washington.

"Well then I'm giving you the chance without 'imposing my attitude' on you," I snapped, "So speak."

"I'll have Mariette board you in the left wing, third floor- any of those vacant rooms will do," He said airily, waving his hand in dismissal.

"Mariette?" I asked, suddenly exhausted.

"How rude of me," He turned, and snapped his fingers, which I noticed were strangely long and slender, like the legs of a spider. I shivered.

Suddenly a woman with auburn hair and green eyes appeared beside us, so fragile and thin she looked as though she were made of the most delicate shards of glass- so easy to break. And her expression was about as changing as a glass surface was, too, her face shut down, eyes as blank as stone.

"This is Mariette, the head maid of the household. Ask her for assistance if you have further questions." He said, and I became aware of his gaze in my peripheral vision, narrowing in on me, in my blurred perception his eyes seemed to glow and distort, growing brighter and more overpowering, filling the room- I blinked- turning towards him, but he was inspecting those long eerie fingers, a strange haunted smile playing at his lips, not even looking at me.

Oh, Suze, you're losing it, I warned myself.

But that's when it happened.

His eyes rose to meet mine and my stomach plunged into icy depths and my eyes swam with long worms of vivid color, eating their way through my vision- I was crawling with him- he was inside my mind and inside of my veins, a live energy, burning his way through my every crevice. I gasped and swooned, falling forward right into his very arms. "Susannah," He whispered, "You have potential to help me a great deal. I have foreseen that my nephew and your powers combined will be of the greatest importance to my little project."

I gasped, trying to recall my essence to my body. I felt stripped, the very core of my being- raped from my body and taken from me- only to be shoved roughly back into jaggedy remains.

"What do you want with me?" I managed to say, but it came out more of a whimper than the intended powerful demand.

"My purpose for you will be revealed," He whispered in my ear.

I struggled to stay conscious, but from his touch came an intoxicating deep aura, seeping into my body and slowly draining away my conciousness.

"Don't touch her." From the half-asleep dreamworld I was desperately slipping into, the voice was cold, the hardest I'd ever heard it- and I clung to it- my piece of sanity, a memory of the old world. I knew that voice, and I needed it to keep me conscious.

"Paul?" I wondered aloud, but everything seemed so far away- and I was so tired…

Suddenly, a different kind of feeling came over me, it was warmer, and much less afraid- almost, secure. I opened my eyes. He was carrying me, Paul, his dark curls falling over his blue eyes, which stared ahead with a dull fury that frightened me.

Suddenly, I was more than wide awake. I blinked twice.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, getting my voice back. "Put me down right now!"

He looked down at me, but his stony expression stayed in place. "Go back to sleep, Suze."

"You got me into this," I accused. "I didn't even want to come here and now what? I'm in the royal Slater freakshow."

"I wasn't aware he wanted you here."

"Hah. He's manipulating everyone. He manipulated you, even, to get me here. For once Paul Slater, someone's pawn." I couldn't help the acid words slipping from my mouth- but I was so angry, and exhausted I could barely resist starting to smack him.

A muscle near his cheekbone jumped, and I took it as a warning sign to shut up, as hard as it might be... He still hadn't let go of me, carrying me into the dimly lit halls of the seemingly endless household. These halls were different, long, elegant, red velvet carpeting, deep cherry wood panels, but much more comfortable and less….creepy. Beautiful, even.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, more quietly, after I felt safe to talk without blowing up all over him.

"To your room." He muttered flatly. "Obviously. Wasn't that what you were bothering him about in the first place?"

"I don't know if I trust you with my sleeping arrangements," I said half-heartedly.

"Mmm, won't you just once?" He grinned, those white teeth flashing for the first time in what felt like forever today. "But you'd injure my eye socket so I think I'll wait."

"Darn straight." I warned, oddly justified. He'd basically gotten on top of me in his grandfather's house- and I'd consequentially almost jabbed his eye out. That was almost a year or two ago. Suddenly my stomach sank. We'd been playing this game for an awful long time. Flames are supposed to flicker and die. Die.

What was it about this boy that kept bringing us together? It was magnetic, how we were constantly put in the same situations over and over, like rocks smashing together over and over. Well, this particular rock doesn't want to make friction. Not when there are rock hard abs on a different hottie, who had a sexy Spanish accent and the most beautiful eyes in the whole world. I did love Jesse, and I was sick of this game with Paul. It seemed so endless. What was it about Paul? What was it?

As I grudgingly considered this issue, he pulled me closer to him unconsciously as we turned a corner, so that I was more cradled.

And so I looked at him for a moment, really looked at him. What was it about Paul? His straight, razor sharp jaw, strong and pronounced, his high cheekbones, the sloping slant of his cheek and the way his black curls fell long, over his eyes, like velvet over sapphires. These arms, around me, did they feel good? Strong and secure. His witty banter and his smirking sarcastic smiles, the way his eyes flashed when he looked at me, those little smug remarks that always hit home. That deep, brooding darkness that enveloped him, that deeper, indescribable emotion when he told me that he was in love with me, the way I caught him staring, and the way he was never embarrassed that I saw him, either. These things flashed by, and I really wondered how this collection of things made me hate him so much. And I wondered why they also kept me constantly on edge, insecure about everything I believed in- the second he questioned it. The way he kissed me, darkly beautiful and deep and smoldering- and the way I was always helpless to those moments, even when I loathed him to my very core.

We were still walking, so I muttered, "Arms tired?"

"As enthused as I am that you're worried about my welfare, you're the one who passed out." He muttered back, flatly and without humor.

"That didn't answer my question."

"I have a lot of endurance." And there it was, that infamous smirk.

God I hated him. I really did. So why couldn't I forget how much I liked those moments in the dark? Why? I really hated myself, honestly. I hated everything about this whole thing. Why did I ever meet him? Why did I go to that crappy summer resort? We would have never… been the way we are now. Just strangers in school. He could've dated Kelly Prescott and I could have lived happily ever after. Because now we were stuck like this. In this pattern that got us nowhere. I mean, where was this going? If what I was doing now kept thrusting us back into this cycle, what other options did I have? I mean, what else was there to do?

I had a boyfriend, who I loved. I went to Lame Deer, MONTANA, for god's sake. And here we were, in the same stupid conflict. So clearly I was doing something wrong. So that meant, what were the options? What else could I be doing? I mean…really the only other thing to do in this stupid back and forth- would be to….actually….be with…

And suddenly my head pounded and my sides ached and nearly split. Because without even realizing it, I was thinking about it. About us.

The arguing, the banter, that was part of who we were, it would never change…

But being together? Actually trying? Surely that wasn't possible, surely…

But there it was. I had to think about us caring about one another- if we could- and not just being objects of passion to one another. And despite all reason, despite everything- I had to consider the idea for one breathtaking second—

And—

And it felt like I was shattered into a million pieces, an acute pain exuded from the inner core of my chest my ribs felt like jaggedy ruins, a pathetic excuse. And it hurt, it was so hungry and wild and terrible that I could scarcely breathe.

God damn I couldn't love him, because love was wonderful. I'd felt it before, that lovely, deep, security that melted from within me whenever Jesse was around. THAT was love. That happy, fluffy stuff, like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. I'd had that with Jesse. THAT was love.

This, this hurt to much to be anything close, to, it could never be…

"I don't love you," I whispered, "It hurts too much for me to love you."

He looked down at me, a little surprised, and all of the sudden five different fierce expressions ran their course in about a millisecond. And suddenly he was kissing me, and I felt like my blood was boiling, and I could scarcely breathe, and I turned to him, wrapping my legs around his waist, unable to get close enough- unable to get enough of him, unable to get close enough to quite drive away that longing pain, that terrible, terrible agony inside of me-

He ran his fingers through my hair, his lips angry and dark and mind-numbing. I took his face in my hands, pulling it to me, kissing him back with all I had, unable to control it.

"It hurts, doesn't it Suze?" He whispered, pressing me up against the wall.

"It hurts too much," I whispered between kisses, and suddenly I was crying, tears slipping over my face like they weren't mine- but some other force of nature, fast and uncontrollable. "Its not right," I whispered, starting to really cry. "Its not love when it hurts this much."

His lips moved over my face, kissing away my tears, his hands circling my waist. "That's where you're wrong. This isn't natural." He whispered, so coldly and so furiously that I nearly flinched, "But its here. And we need to face it now, Suze, before it ruins me."

"I don't want this," I blubbered hopelessly.

"And I do?" He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, right. You should have just given in to me at the very start and maybe this wouldn't have happened."

"So its my fault." Through my tears, my tone was indignant.

"Its always your fault," He whispered, and kissed me so deeply that I forgot everything entirely.

"In this case, it certainly is." A deep voice commented.

I froze.

Paul tightened his grip around my waist so hard that his knuckles turned white, and his jaw clenched, before he turned, letting my legs drop from his waist, and setting me down, facing the intruder with a brilliant iciness in the very depths of his blue eyes.

"Rico Suave," He smiled, white teeth flashing in the most mocking of grins, and he let out a low bow. "So glad you could join us."