Anala. His temptress. His Muse. Javan had lived many lifetimes but nothing had ever caught his interests like his beautiful monsters. They always seemed to be surprising him, proving to him that no matter how long he'd walked the earth there was always something new to discover. They never once bored him and Javan had come to care for them, love them even. Anala had returned from the grave, right out of the ground like a goddamn daisy. Javan expected no less from her. It made sense in some peculiar, unconceivable way. If anyone would pull it off it was Anala. He watched her as he sat on the linoleum floor of the master bathroom, leaning against the sink cabinet. She was soaking in his large tub, steam rising from the water. Her knees stuck out from the water's surface and the only sound was her breaths, heartbeat, and the soft click of his camera. Inspiration had struck and he welcomed it. She sat up, running her hand up her extended arm, spreading white suds along the soft brown of her flesh. The gentle slosh of water filled the space. He took in the graceful curve of her neck and shoulders, the wet tresses of her hair, the meditative look in her eyes. Javan lifted his camera and snapped another photo just as she shifted the slightest bit, the low light hitting her and contrasting the shadows perfectly.

Lovely.

Javan had always appreciated their daily customs and Anala's was one that he'd watch on occasion. He appreciated the calmness of it, the easy way she flowed from one task to another in preparation for the beginning or end of a day. Brushing her hair, dressing, hell, even shaving. The tiny rituals she performed with that grace woman-kind had instinctively, a different yet fitting contrast to the fluid and effortless nature of her brother. They definitely inspired some of his more interesting pieces. He could hear Nolan wandering through the house. He hadn't entered since his sister's death and Javan could hear him moving about, sliding his fingers along the walls.

"Javan?"

"Hm?"

She was hesitating. Javan moved across the floor and leaned his arms on the edge of the tub. He dipped his fingers into the warm water and watched the tendrils of hair float in the water, around her body. "Spit it out."

Bright eyes met his. "Are you alright? You were gone so suddenly I . . . I never got to say goodbye."

Un-fucking-believable. The woman returns from the dead and she's worried about his welfare from his visit to Volterra. The vampire was caught between feeling smitten and annoyed, something he felt often with her and the other one. "Are you serious?"

Anala gathered her hair and wrung it out before pushing down the drain and standing. Javan stood with her and passed her a towel, admiring her figure openly. She stepped out of the tub and looked at him. Anala was gazing straight through him and Javan tilted his head as he watched her. There was a vacancy in her eyes. He cupped her chin and observed her. "Are you okay? You did just return from the dead, pet."

She pulled away, averting her eyes. "I'm fine."

"Why am I not convinced?"

Her reply was smooth and instant. "Because you're an obsessive psychopath Javan, with a narcissistic personality and an irritating habit of knowing me too well, but it's apparently alright because you're you. You are also slightly paranoid."

He smirked and kissed her brow. He picked up his camera and sat on the sink counter. "You always know just how to flatter me dear."

She dried off and dressed slowly, her eyes becoming far away again. Javan had packed up all of her things over a year ago but Nolan had asked him not to get rid of them. It was a good thing he had listened. The underwear were hers, the bra as well.

"That's my shirt."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, right." He decided to let her wear it. The sight pleased him. He watched her exit the bathroom and out of his bedroom, to seek out her brother most likely.

A slight frown tugged on his lips.

Interesting.

Nolan returned a few hours after dawn. Emmett was a bit surprised, thinking he would have stayed over there. Elias followed him in. He watched the man greet his siblings warmly, and they in turn. The familiarity between his family and the Vayar was clear. Nolan was quiet, but he looked happy. Calm. Emmett sat on the railing on the second floor, directly next to the wall. It was like his own little corner where he could watch ongoing activities below and think freely as he did so. Of course, his thoughts hadn't been much fancied as of late. His head was full of want and tangled, confused thoughts and ferocious rage. His fingers tightened on the wood when a shadow moved in the corner by the front door. It flickered and darkened then, Anala was there. The shadow looked untouched. He admired her involuntarily. She taunted him. Unknowingly of course, Anala never ever really knew how insane she made him, but still. The burgundy of her soft skirt and the black boots created nice accessories to her lovely legs. The swells of her full breasts were distinguishable from beneath her off-white top and the light gray cardigan she wore fell down just above the back of her knees. Emmett struggled with his rage and helpless attraction. Only Anala could piss him off to the point of implosion and make him want to rip her clothes off at the same time. That was bad.

He ignored the frantic scratching beneath the surface of his resolve.

Her eyes went to the entrance as auburn hair came into view and sharp amber eyes landed on her. Elias stopped and she smiled. "Elias."

"Goddess," he murmured softly. The vayar bowed and Anala moved over to him and made him straighten before hugging him. His arms came around her tightly. She pulled back and Elias touched her hair. "Anala. This is . . . eerie."

"Hello to you too Eli. Where's Rowan? I can barely feel him, I'm worried." Elias's eyes saddened and the house quieted. Emmett frowned. She didn't know. Carlisle entered from the den with Esme and Emmett could see by Anala's expression she had picked up on the sudden change in the mood. She looked back and forth between them, confused.

"What?"

"He died Anala," Carlisle stepped next to her. "A few weeks after you did."

Anala stared up at him for a long moment. Nolan exited the living room and she looked at him. She turned to him, looking for an explanation. Emmett told himself he didn't want to go down there, to comfort her. But she didn't seem upset as she looked to Elias. "Where is he?"

"We buried him," Carlisle told her. "His body just . . . shut down."

Anala was shaking her head, not accepting whatever Carlisle was saying. Emmett watched the each minor change in her expressions. Those overwhelming verdant eyes turned resolute. It was over. Whatever anyone said next was irrelevant. Emmett knew that look all too well, Anala had made up her mind and no one would be stopping her now.

"Where is he?"

Carlisle laid a hand on her arm and Anala suddenly flinched away, heart stuttering and her breath hitching slightly. Emmett frowned, the last time Anala had reacted like that he'd just met her, long before he knew of the strain of Carus's abuse. Anala's throat worked as she looked away. Her eyes lifted and they landed on him, sitting on the railing watching her. Emmett became angry all over again and his jaw clenched. Angry, yes, but also fascinated, longing, confused, elated. The barrage of emotions was frustrating, more so by the annoying calm creeping at the edge of his consciousness. Fucking Jasper. Her eyes lightened a bit and a smile began to form on her plump lips, fading when he didn't return the gesture. Emmett pretended that the uninvited twitch in his pants didn't happen when he looked at those lips. Lips that tasted like heat and honey and ever-tempting sin.

Anala's gaze lowered and she tilted her head towards her brother. "Will you take me?"

Nolan nodded. "Sure," he said softly.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, suddenly looking incredulous and stressed. "You buried him?" she wasn't asking anyone in particular.

Emmett followed them. He told himself it wasn't to make sure she'd be okay, that he wasn't interested in what effect this would have on her. He was curious, wanted to know why she was so determined to find the deceased blonde. What was wrong with him? How come when he absolutely hated her, Anala was devouring him? Teasing him. Tempting him. Driving me fucking batshit. Emmett followed along with the others, just as curious to Anala's shift in behavior. She had taken Carlisle's words then brushed them off entirely. Nolan guided her by the hand, their connected bodies were separate but moved together, eternally attached. They moved through the trees quietly, Elias following above them like a ghost.

Emmett recalled the days before Carlisle buried his brother. The casket he hand-carved in the garage. The entirety of the guard, the Black Lotus, coming to mourn. Every moment of it had made Emmett's skin crawl. It hadn't just been Rowan who was mourned that day. He couldn't deny the patriarch had chosen a beautiful location. He had consulted with Elias, seeing as he knew the blonde best. It was a small glade, tucked between the forest and a mountain cliff that dropped steeply, revealing a view of the vast skies and mossy green earth below. It was peaceful here; the trees and grass and distant ocean. The isolation was soothing. Carlisle looked grim, he didn't want to cause Anala pain yet he probably felt it necessary. Closure or some such crap. Anala didn't become upset, wasn't rocked by the reality of Rowan's death. She walked across the grass slowly and stopped. She knelt, directly above where Rowan lay in his final resting place. Emmett frowned. She shouldn't have known where he was buried. She pressed her body to the earth and stilled. He listened. The air breezed through the trees and Anala's heartbeat and breaths slowed, as if asleep.

Dark shadows snaked along the ground soundlessly slipping along untouched blades of grass, twisting and coiling towards Anala. They gathered next to her then began growing smaller and smaller until they were gone. Emmett realized they hadn't become smaller but instead sunk lower, into the earth. He watched from where he stood at the edge of the glade, almost directly across Anala. Her eyes were shut and breaths deep and even as her brows drew together a little. Emmett firmly kept his demon in place.

Mine.

No.

The shadows reemerged, forming a pool of black wisps and smoke. Anala's eyes slipped open and she sat up slowly. The shadows deteriorated slowly, leaving behind nothing but a pale, figure in its place. Carlisle flashed back several feet, his face twisting into one of pain and loathing. Anala shifted his head and shoulders into her lap. Rowan was mangled. His skin was bone white from beneath deep purple and black splotches that disappeared under the thin white material of his soft shirt. There was a distinct rope mark around his throat and Emmett felt a sullen heaviness in that moment. This was Rowan. Not the Vayar but the boy who Carlisle knew, the young man who had been unjustly murdered in cold blood. Anala touched his face, his sallow cheeks and the shadows beneath his eyes. Stroked the fine white-blonde strands of his hair. Her fingers gently unbuttoned his shirt, revealing more lifeless flesh. She smoothed her fingertips along red markings, so faded they were nearly gone. It was somehow . . . intimate. Despite the damage and pallor, Rowan was beautiful. It was odd how after being in the earth for almost two years there was no sign of decomposition.

A small smile touched her lips.