Has been the toughest year I have ever gone through, filled with desperation, hard pressure and mourning.

His fiery eyes, her icy skin

"I open my eyes slowly. I almost scream as my field of vision is entrapped by two golden hues. A hand comes pressing on my mouth, my voice stuck in my throat. "Not even a whisper, Leah"

There's no escape, indeed.

One moment, I am witnessing a massive massacre from an omniscient point of view, the next I am in the scene, as a victim. My mind is racing, trying to brutally separate reality from illusion. But it couldn't. Everything tells me they are somehow interlinked. All the main elements are featured: the gloomy atmosphere, the darkness and the monster with golden eyes that ordered the death of these children.

For an instant, I could not breathe, mourning the lives of these children, blaming myself for their death. They're dead right? No, No they cannot be. A wave of panic washes over me until I realize I'm in my room; They must represent a tiny pigment of my subconscious' capabilities. However, this omniscient abstract creature that finally reveals itself as my real demonic enemy has not vanished along with the rest of the delusion woke up to.

I do not know, how for the life of me, my subconscious succeeded in slowly taking control of my mind and actions. It constitutes a huge part of me and the idea of its destruction is laughable. I was not like this. I am NOT like this. I could not let myself be. I am turning into a trainwreck these past few days and it is starting to become too much. I keep reminding myself to be strong, yet I could not bring myself to stop shaking. The images were too traumatizing to be simply forgotten.

I'm shaking even though I was in the right mind to be aware of my surroundings. My room, the safest place existent for someone like me. yet I can feel his powerful vibe apparently only his eyes, the only perceivable traits distinguishable in the darkness, can project. His presence terrifies me, cut deep into my being and starts tearing my limbs cell by cell, in a horrendous attempt to stab my heart. It is not a metaphor since the pain is not as figurative as the image.

"Stop shaking Leah" A feeble, almost tender voice echoes in the night. A voice I could recognize anywhere, anytime. The simple words were wrapping me, I could not tell if they're meant to suffocate or to stabilize me. Anyhow, in a flicker of a second, they manage to put me in a trance I could not escape even if I want to. And I really want to. Because my reaction confirmed most of the questions reeling in my head and his. My body remains frozen but my mind is begging it to actually move. Instincts over Intelligence. My worst nightmare just began: Demitri got the wolf in me wrapped around his finger.

But I could not go down without a fight. I must give the old Leah a chance to float from underneath that sea of doubts she was left suffocating in. I defiantly, look him in the eyes while monotonously stating "Your eyes do nothing to move me"

"I know, my lady. It was not for you. I actually tried. To feed. I can even tell you their names." At my annoyed expression, he develops. "I couldn't keep their blood down", he admits more quietly, his eyes darkening at the memory.

An inexplicable pang of disappointment shot through my system. Something about the image of Demitri coldly toying with his victim triggers an icy wrath to sizzle underneath my skin. I try a new approach.

"What are you doing here, Demitri?"

"You owe me an explanation."

I look at him suspiciously. His scrutinizing eyes are singing a lullaby only my blood can detect. I cannot lose at my own game. "In the middle of the night?"

He is quiet for a moment, obviously elsewhere until he coldly answers "Well, you did not seem able to really develop your thoughts out of excitement last time we have met."

He is obviously playing me. The worse thing yet is that I am well aware he is winning. His dry answers, his cold dead heart and his icy demeanor against my fiery temperature, my pumping heart and my controlling subconscious.

"I do not owe you anything, Demitri. Because whatever you assume is going on must be a tiny fickle of your hallucinating mind."

I know the fire I just ignited is capable of burning us both, yet I could not resist. I cannot cave in to telling him. I was pushing him to his limit, wanting to use his invisible wrath to my favor, to make him drop out the subject. It was not only a matter of just winning a game, but more importantly to protect him in the best way I can. His ignorance is his greatest asset. And mine. And I am not giving it up.

Instantly, my back was against the closet. The handle pressing into my muscles, uncomfortably but not hurtfully. A surprised gasp unintentionally escapes my lips; I was almost sure Demitri is physically powerless when it comes to handling me. All the physical contacts he initiated were careful, almost delicate. But this, this is different. Demitri has fire in his usually blank eyes. His grip on my shoulders is hard but not enough to bruise. He stares intently at me before smirking and moving his hands down my forearms, leaving a trail of icy passion behind. My eyes are dilating on their own, my body caving in to this foreign pleasant sensation it never experienced before. I now know why people tend seek this kind of passion their whole lives. It is the first time that I understand the power of a touch, not only to skin but the kind that stabs right to the core.

I stay motionless unable to look away from his eyes. His hands slips from around my wrists after a few seconds, making contact with the closet door behind me; he actually hit the furniture, creating a deep dent in the wood, the sound of the impact piercing. I did not flinch at the act for a second, convincing myself it is because I am too used to my bothers' casual anger.

"Why don't you go wake my mother up, while you are at it?"

He stares at me for a few second, as if I am crazy before casting his eyes down in shame at his conflicted behavior. After having calmed down and given me my personal space to breathe normally again, he meets my eye, admitting defeat.

"Please Leah, I need to know what this is. Whatever it is, I promise I will protect you"

~ Flashback ~

(A black hole is a region of spacetime from which gravity prevents anything from escaping. It absorbs all the light that hits the horizon, reflecting nothing. Event horizon: A mathematically defined surface situated around a black hole that marks the point of no return.)

Sue will never be the same again. As soon as the grief and the sorrow started to faded away from everyone's heart that you start feeling lonely and left out. that was the case of my mother in the aftermath of my father's death. Hidden underneath her black dress with only her head appearing and the shoulders hunched defeated, Sue looked as if she was being swallowed down into a black hole of a stellar mass. She needs to be comforted. I hesitate since the last person that is even capable of really comforting her is me. As I was discreetly leaving to my room, a barely audible "Leah?" comes from my mother.

"Yes mom?"

She meets my eye, her gaze blank but piercing at the same time. She looks at the table, silently asking me to join her. I calmly move the chair to sit but the noise is still too loud.

We sit in complete silence for a while, my mother's eyes never leaving the view out of the window for a long time before she turns to look at me. Sue Clearwater is known to be one of the toughest women on the reservation. Anyone would be damned if they thought they could measure up to her. Yet she looks fragile and old at this moment.

"Did you love him?"

"Leah love, we live in a very dark world, where everything is not what it seems. He was… my anchor.

"Do you think I will ever have what dad and you had?"

"Will you ever imprint, you mean dear." I cast my eyes down in shame, not being able to articulate this loathsome word. "Darling, there is no shame in asking. We all know how confused you are."

My mother's eyes never leaving my form before she starts explaining to my utter surprise: "I have heard stories, thousand year old legends about our long lost ancestors. The Children of the Moon. Women werewolves were quite common as that time. Although those creatures were more wolf than human, their mating techniques are the same as our tribune's shape-shifters. Men just know their mate just by looking right through their souls. They feel their center of gravity shifting from its normal axis. It is an extremely powerful sensation than any other they ever experience. Their animalistic instincts urges them to act upon them and reveal to their mate what they truly are."

She stays quiet, thoughtful for a while before I ask her. "What about women?"

"A woman's heart is fragile, more bent to experience emotions and she usually knows it, that's why she doesn't let anyone in easily. Naturally, a female wolf is more reserved, her trust extremely hard to gain. This is why technically a woman cannot imprint."

My heart sinks and my eyes stings. I have not realized how badly I wanted it until I knew for sure I would never have it. "Technically?"

Sue nods. "Yes, when it comes to imprinting, it is always men who initiates the bonding process. Women are foolish in matters of the heart. That is why they are always given the choice to reciprocate their love for their mates."

I am astonished. No that cannot be possible. "So what you are saying is that women are always imprinted on, whether they were human… or werewolves?

Sue looks me straight in the eye before she nods again whispering "Men know, Women love"

~ End Of Flashback ~

Men know, Women love

He is still standing far from me but the intensity of his gaze on me is enough to knock my breath away. He understands the implications of this statement. He is thinking it over, every thought a rotary mechanism responsible for the movement of another series of machinery. He seems focused, the silence is making me extremely nervous, but even more scared of breaking the ice.

"You are definitely worth it" He whispers eventually, a soft sound quickly fading into the air, never meant for me to hear.

"Worth what?" I ask in a steady normal tone.

I watch him smiles faintly, not expecting an answer from him. Apparently, he does not know me well yet.

Now that we are starting to communicating, time to settle what ground we stand on. First things first. "Why were you so insistent yesterday that I give the deal some thought?"

His demeanor cracks for a split of a second before he sighs and starts explaining. "You were not a random choice, Leah. You know how Aro is always thirsty for power and control, every step is calculated. He needs someone he can trust - I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this – He had a good feeling about you. He was sure he could transform you into a cold blooded guard since you are … genetically incapable of producing.

I don't understand. What does motherhood and my fertility has anything to do with it? My cluelessness must have been apparent on my face.

"All the signs proved you were incapable of sealing a bond with someone unlike all of your brothers. That might weakened you physically, but it would have been Aro's greatest asset since you will not be dedicated to anyone else, a rarely amongst werewolves. But now that we know for sure that you are not as original as he thought, he might have spared you peacefully. I knew it was risky but it was the only quarter of a plan realizable. "He falls silent for a few second before he fearlessly meet my eye and stating matter-of-factly "Note well Leah that I have no intention of hurting you or let any harm cross your way, especially not the Volturi. So you will stay here, while I meet them with your decision in a few days."

"And what would my decision be, Demitri?" I ask him icily.

He had the courage to meet my eye before calmly stating that I am not joining the Volturi as long as he lives.

I break eye contact, feeling self-conscious under his scrutinizing stare.

Demitri cannot face the Volturi alone. They will eat him alive. His expression shifts to resolve when my heartbeat betrays my cool composure. He instinctively reach out to touch me. I don't pull away. His electrifying touch renders me uncomfortably calm.

"I trust you Demitri" I give a confirmative nod before continuing "and you should understand very clearly that these sentiments are mutual. I have no intentions to get you … harmed, especially not by Aro." He searches my face fruitlessly for any hint of what I might say "However, I cannot find a plan that protects the both of us in equal measures.

Which is why I am joining the Volturi"

Since the mere thought of his death is able to eternally paralyze me.

But he does not need to know that.

Love.