M-Rated for violence, sexual content, blood, and language. Proceed carefully if you wish to avoid those things.

This chapter's song is Me and the Devil, by Soap&Skin.

When I was younger, I had never given language much thought.

I knew how to use words, how to articulate them in order to get what I wanted. I could make a person respect me, fear me, or even look up to me, choosing carefully how to deliver my messages. Words were useful tools, and that was something I had learned from a very early age. Sometimes, they were weapons ― turning your body into an instrument of hate was easy, after all. It was being kind that took some effort, and that's why expressing my feelings, the good ones, was an entirely different matter.

My mother tongue was often seen as harsh by others, the syllables sounding rough around the edges, crude to the ears of those who were used to vowels and round words. I could only feel in Russian, though. When I moved to the States, I had missed the comfort of a language I owned. No matter how many times I tried, English would always sound shallow when it came out of my mouth. As time passed, though, I learned how to see the poetry that was lost in translation ― words that meant different things, idioms that came attached to a different culture, a culture you had to fully experience in order to understand.

For example, there were bags under my eyes.

The dark shadows were called something else in Russian, but naming them bags sounded right because bags were made to hold things, and inside mine, there were many sleepless nights, and inside those, there were many regrets and unspeakable thoughts. They were heavy, and my eyes were struggling to carry that weight.

Those eyes, brown and boring but thankheavensnothinglikemyfather's, were staring back at me as if they belonged to someone else. Someone tired.

I ran my left hand through the shallow beard that had started growing from my chin. There were no blades here, and therefore no way to shave ― I tried not to think of the reason behind Rose's choice to leave me without anything I could turn into a weapon. My hair was disheveled from sleep, the also brown, also boring curls pointing everywhere. I let myself notice the dryness of my skin and every little imperfection that marred my face. I had always put an effort into looking the best I could; my mother had taught me that. No one takes you seriously, and the world has no time for you if you look like shit.

I sighed, taking my eyes from the reflection in the mirror, leaning down so I could wash my face. Rose hadn't come back yet. I could say for sure that roughly seventy-two hours had passed since the last time I saw her face. I was counting the days by pacing around the room, trying ― failing ― to break free, eating something to keep myself strong enough to fight, and trying ― failing ― to get some sleep. My brain running a thousand miles per hour; I didn't know what was taking her so long. I didn't know anything, and that made me anxious because I wasn't used to being out of the loop. She knew me well enough to toy with that side of me, and it made me wonder if letting her come so far into my life had been a mistake, a vulnerability I couldn't afford.

I splashed more water on my face. No. I couldn't go down that path. I did what I did because I loved her, and I didn't regret it, not in a million years. It had only been three days, after all. I could wait longer than that. It gave me time to think.

Without looking back in the mirror, I headed to the fridge to get some water. The fridge was close to the bathroom, and the bathroom was close to the bed, and the room felt like a fucking cage ― it was a cage, for God's sake ― and I hated being trapped. I hated being trapped, I needed to get out of this place, but what about Rose? She had to come with me somehow. I couldn't leave her behind. Not now not after everything that had happened, because I had to save her one way or another. That's why I left. I couldn't give up on her now - she wouldn't have given up on me. She'd never have given up on me. I needed to be strong for her, but I needed to get out of this place but―

I threw the cup to the wall, splashing water all over the furniture. The cup was made of plastic, so it didn't break, which did little to satisfy my frustration.

Breathe. In, out. Breathe. Fighting the urge to scream I sat down on the bed, folding my legs beneath me and staring straight ahead.

Breathe. In, out. Breathe.

I was in control of myself.

Breathe. In, out. Breathe.

I would find a way to get out of here.

Breathe. In, out. Breathe.

I had to be patient.

When the door opened, I didn't charge for it like last time, trying to pay attention and gather information, the methodic side of me helping to keep myself controlled.

I had been too long without seeing her face, it seemed, because my eyes automatically swept through her as she came in. Rose was wearing a long cotton dress. It was blue, clinging to her frame in a way that made it clear there was nothing beneath it, but loose enough that the wind could play with it, the draft entering through the open door making it fly around her like an aura― focus, Dimitri. Her eyes, the paleness of her skin. This is not Rose.

I looked over her shoulder. Behind her, all I could see was complete darkness. We were underground. A basement, maybe?

"Hey there, comrade," she greeted, smiling, and I felt myself being pulled by her magnetism again. Breathe. In, out. This is not Rose. "How's it been?"

It took me a while to notice she was carrying some stuff, grocery bags. She opened the fridge, filling it with fresh food and water. Once she was done, she came closer to me, offering me something. It took me a while to understand what it was: books. Westerns. She was keeping her promise.

I took them automatically, even if my rational side knew I should probably just ignore her actions. The titles were familiar, even the ones I had never read before. I resisted the urge to roam over them, setting them aside and looking up at her again without saying a word.

"It took me longer than I thought it would to come back here," she said, noncommittally, "I had some stuff to do, and Galina wanted it done promptly. Unfortunately, I can't ignore her direct orders, or it would raise suspicion," she rolled her eyes. "If she were as much of a bitch while training you as she is now, I can understand how you became a god. The woman is a dictator."

I didn't answer. I knew my face was blank, devoid of any emotion, and soon enough her smile faded and her expression started to mirror mine, blanking as well. It didn't make much difference. Smiling or not, there was no way to know what was going through her head.

Did Galina know I was here? Was Rose keeping me as a secret? If so, who was the person helping her to hold me here, the person who had knocked on the door last time?

She came to me slowly, like a wild cat that could have been studying its prey or pacing around lazily to find somewhere to settle. Her eyes left mine, trailing down my body, and I tried to ignore the way I felt myself responding to her gaze, so aware of every little sensation that the softest touch would have sent me into a cardiac arrest.

She stopped right in front of me, bending her back to bring her face closer to mine. "Aren't you going to talk to me?"

I held my breath, fighting for every last shred of control I could muster, keeping my guardian mask in place and staying silent.

She smiled and bit her lips. It was the first glimpse of her fangs I'd had, and it was enough to sober me up a little. It felt calculated, though. What did she mean by that? "I guess it's going to be a monologue, then."

She tapped her chin with her fingers, straightening her back and wandering aimlessly around the room. "You had some questions the first time I came here. Questions about the reasons behind my choices. I gave them much thought in the past few days and came to the conclusion that I can tell you a thing or two. You only have to ask, comrade, and I'll answer as honestly as I can."

She knew how to play me, how to use my own curiosity against me. She'd never reveal important information willingly, though, so I kept my ground, staying silent. By asking her anything, I would only be giving her a small victory, showing how much power she had over me.

Rose smirked at my silence, looking unsurprised by my reaction. "No questions, huh? Well, you know I can't stay silent for long, being the chatty little shit I am," she said, voice full of mirth, "I could tell you about my day, but I made a few things I think you wouldn't approve of, so I'm going to tell you a tale about forbidden love, hoping that you can learn a lesson from it."

She came to a full stop, leaning against the wall right in front of me. Something caught her eye, and when she looked down, she found the plastic cup I had thrown earlier. Her smirk was hard to miss, and she seemed self-satisfied as she bent down to pick it up, playing with the cup, rolling it in her hands.

"Once upon a time," her voice was low and steady, "in the faraway land of freedom called America, a girl and a guy met. The guy was tall, dark and handsome, and the girl had a hard time keeping away from him. They hated each other at first, to be honest, and had to resign themselves to each other's company. There was a spark of something, though, and it was enough that neither of them could deny it. They tried to, but soon enough, that spark turned into an inferno, consuming everything and everyone that stood too close to it."

I was holding my breath the whole time, unable to say anything. I knew exactly what this was leading to, the intention behind her so-called "tale,", but I couldn't say anything. Hell, I couldn't even look away from her. I assumed that was her goal; to have me as a captive audience to her fable. The way she spoke, so unlike her at first, not as spontaneous as she used to be, made me cringe in both expectation and fear. She was doing a good job of controlling her reckless side, which meant she'd do anything in her power to get what she wanted.

"They had other priorities," she continued. "The girl wanted to become the best fighter she could be in order to protect her best friend, and the guy wanted to keep his stellar career and guard one of the most important Royals in the Moroi world. Their goals in life clashed, you see, because their charge happened to be the same person, and they couldn't work on the tension building between them because a life depended on their professionalism. They needed to be there for their charge, after all, not jumping each other's bones. Troubles came, and troubles went, but nothing could make them want each other any less. They did a good job trying, overcoming desire and lust, but one day everything changed."

Her breathing was heavy by the time she started speaking again, and a chill ran down my spine at the sound of her voice, almost whispered but filled with a need that mirrored my own. This is not Rose. You have to focus.

"It all happened in a cabin in the woods. The air was chilly, so he lit the fireplace. She was half-crazed, bloodlust taking her every thought, darkness filling her soul. He treated her battle wounds and made her calm down, pinning her to the bed at first but holding her in his arms right after he felt her coming to her senses. They couldn't help it anymore. They kissed, abandoning every thought of right and wrong.

"She still remembers the taste of his mouth and how good a kisser he is. She still remembers his hands and the way they grabbed her, caressed her, and broke her into pieces. His lips on her neck, licking and sucking and biting, and sending a flash of heat right between her thighs where she could feel herself getting wetter and wetter. She remembers when his mouth found her nipples and how she moaned out loud as he sucked them hard, cupping her ass and keeping her close. The way he groaned in response as her hands trailed up his chest, taking his shirt off. How he had wanted that as much as she did."

I was spellbound, feeling my control slipping between my fingers with every word that left her mouth. She didn't even have to leave the wall she was standing against to paint an image in my head, bringing back memories I had tried my best to bury after I'd lost her.

"As they got naked, she knew she wanted him to bury himself inside her because nothing else would free her from that need, that urge… his hand stroked her in a place she didn't know existed before, and she couldn't say anything because he made her forget how to fucking speak. And then she came for the first time, all over his hand, and sucked his middle finger to taste what he had done to her.

"And then she was on her back, lying on the bed and looking at his perfect body looming over hers, feeling him pressed against her in a way that made her want more. And he gave her more. He sunk inside her, fucking her senseless until they both came. She misses the way it felt, having him there, where he belonged. It's like there's something missing since that day, something only he can give her."

This is not Rose, I tried to convince myself, unsuccessfully. She may look like her, talk like her, and even have her memories, but this is not Rose.

"I can hear you thinking, comrade," she said, her eyes still on mine, "so why don't you tell me what you have in mind?"

The obvious bulge in my pants was all the answer she needed. She came closer to me, deliberately swinging her hips, and it only fueled my arousal. This is not Rose.

I hadn't realized I spoke the last part out loud until I saw her smirk. "Am I not? Are you sure of that?"

She took both of my hands in hers, sitting down on my lap, and ground herself against me like she'd done the first time she came here, never breaking eye contact. I hissed, protesting against the way she was teasing me, the lucid part of my brain screaming for me to stop her as my body claimed for more. "I want you to kiss me, Dimitri."

I had enough presence of spirit to shove her away from me and bark a "No" that felt more like a pledge than an order. She tried to sit on my lap again, but I quickly stood up, going as far away from her as possible in the limited space.

She chased me, trying to touch me, but I held her at an arm's distance to keep her away from me. That elicited a violent response from her; she shoved my hands away, and tried to pin me to the wall, unsuccessfully. I got to her first, kneeing her stomach, and soon enough she was trapped, both of her hands secure above her head, my body weighing on hers so she couldn't move, the force of the blow knocking the air out of both of our lungs. Her expression went from mad to aroused in a flash, and she smirked at me again, making me growl.

"I love it when you do that," she said, breathless.

I tried my best to look away from her. The way our bodies were intertwined was too distracting, but I couldn't let her go because I knew she'd try again. She'd try as many times as it took for my will to crumble because that was how she was. This would never end, as long as I was her prisoner.

Looking right into my eyes, she demanded again "Kiss me." I didn't answer, afraid that my voice wouldn't be steady enough. The only thing I had, the only thing I'd ever had when it came to Rose, was my willpower. If she took that away from me, I'd be lost to her forever.

"Dimitri, I need you to kiss me. Please," she begged, and I couldn't help it. I obliged ― because I wanted this to be over. I should have known she'd want more. I should have known I'd want more. I should have known that when I closed my eyes, that kiss would feel like the ones we'd shared when she was alive; the shape of her lips was the same, her hair was still as soft as I remembered, and her heart was still beating, so loud I could feel its rhythm in my bones.

When she took me to bed, I just let her. When her lips trailed down my neck, I let her. And when her fangs sank into my skin, surprising me enough that I tried to fight to get her off, that was the point of no return. Because of course, she had secured me before the bite so I wouldn't be able to free myself from her grip. And then, soon enough, I didn't want to fight anymore, because the bliss that filled my body made me close my eyes and forget where I was.

I wasn't a stranger to drugs. In my novice years, whenever things got ugly at home, I'd get out and find a way to get trashed. It got bad for a while, and my mother almost kicked me out of the house, but I was able to overcome my problems. I had been mostly clean ever since I received my promise mark, more so after I lost Ivan.

A vampire bite was something I had never experienced because I knew what it could do to a person. But of course Rose would be my exception. This sensation, her lips caressing my neck, the endorphins hitting my bloodstream… it was better than anything I had ever used; it felt better than almost anything I ever did.

And then it was over. The high ended too soon, and I knew I wanted to feel like that again. I knew the drug-induced bliss was her last blow against my self-control. I opened my eyes to see her looking at me, my blood dripping from her lips and staining her dress, the sheets, my shirt, my love. Nothing would come out of this mess clean.

She smiled at me, showing her fangs and licking her lips. For the first time in my life too tired to fight, I let her do whatever she wanted with me.

A. N.: Hey there! I'm alive!

Jokes aside, my semester is over and life's good! Now I can fully commit myself to writing (or procrastinating, depends on how you see it).

I hope this chapter was worth the took me a while to get it right, so I'd love to know your opinion. Please, review if you have the time! If you don't, thanks for reading

Thank you for sticking with me and the emotional rollercoaster this fic became. You guys rock! And a huge thank you to my beta, strangemind92, for putting up with me for so long. Go read her stories, she rocks. Also, shoutout to Swimming the Same Deep Waters for making this chapter that much better. If you missed it, Swimming and I wrote a piece together for the VA Halloween compilation and it's amazing. Check it out, if you'd like. There are plenty of great stories in there, from other amazing authors.