Warnings: body horror, torture, suicidal thoughts, animal death mentioned, psychological abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, description of injury, smoking
Fic summary: your reunion with the volturi after your ‘kidnapping’ goes in an unexpected direction
“My sweet dear” Aro greeted as he perched on his marble throne alongside the rest of the volturi, genuine glee filling the eccentric man's face as he and the two other men look down at your figure that had been covered by your family's presence “how we’ve missed you”
You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to burst into a laughter of madness that no other fit could ever outshine. You just wanted to die and rot back into the ground, a fate you would welcome with a bared neck and open chest cavity at this point.
Everyone in the room stares at you in a way that shows they want something from you. The volturi wanted the truth from you, the cullens wanted you to remain quiet and hoped no one would notice the freshly healed over cracks on your skin that hasn't had just the right amount of time to fade completely, and the spectators to your situation just wanted something to satiate their greedy needs of entertainment. And you?, you just wanted to fade into the ground and sink slowly into the depths of your own exhaustion and paranoia.
The process of putting you back together again was pure agony, similar to gluing a porcelain cup back together piece by piece. Carlisle had not stopped at breaking just your hand off, he shattered away every limb below your neck off one by one, leaving you a tortured torso that screamed and begged for an inch of mercy but you weren't granted that.
Carlise was nice enough to do the damage quickly instead of drawing the process out and risking accidentally sabotaging the delicate healing process. It seems the cullens sadism was outshined by their combined saviour complexes as they tried to make the healing process as comfortable for you as possible and took their turns ‘caring’ for you.
They laid you in the softest of beds and used washcloths to dab away the excess of tears that poured from your eyes, bringing you cups of blood with a cute straw to help you drink without the accessibility of your limbs. But laying in the silk sheets and drinking the finest blood did nothing to limit the horror of your situation.
To heal the broken off limbs, the cullens strapped your torso down to the bed before laying the limbs in the original positions and allowing the vampire healing factors to work their unexplainable magic. Your limbs pulled themselves back together in a hellish process, similar to having your skin slowly stitched back together and bones forcibly fused. You screamed the entire time as you watched your porcelain textured skin reattach and you became whole again, the clattering and clicking of the process never able to be drowned out as you felt yourself slowly growing madder than the hatter.
It took three days for the bones to reform, an additional week for you to be able to use them fully again but not long enough for the cracks to fade and certainly never long enough for you to not get a phantom pain when you heard the clanking of porcelain or you see the cracks adorning your limbs.
Carlisle had wanted to let you rest at home longer, but the Volturi were not known for being patient and sent word for you as soon as they had heard their gentle heart had returned to her nest. And they were granted their wish as you stood before them, but this version of you wasn't the one they remembered.
“She’s missed you too, Aro” Carlisle offers after your silence goes on too long, the man can withstand committing violent acts of torture but couldnt handle a slight impoliteness or ongoing awkward silence “She’s just more quiet, after her little situation”
Aro eyed your figure in a suspicious manner, gaze meeting the hints to the cracks on your skin that had been hidden beneath conservative clothing you’d been dressed in, your chest had gone back to being forcibly bound once again. Physically you looked almost identical to the girl he remembered, but the added horror in your eyes was a new touch.
“Lucky for us all, I can see everything i need to know from a simple touch of my sweet girls hand” Aro states in a sweet tone as he comes closer but he only invites you to move further back behind the figures of your family “dear, don’t you want me to know of your journey, so i can make it better?”
You want to believe that the volturi will free you, that aro will free you and bring you to a safe environment away from the cullens where you could fix the irreparable damage they had caused your soul, but that was all just a fantasy. They knew what pain the cullens had done in the past and could do nothing to help you then, why be foolish enough to believe in childish notions of saviours now you had experienced the scorching hot pain of helplessness and disappointment. Instead you choose to cower behind your captors because the hundreds of years with them had made you accustomed to what they are, and you now believed it was safer to stick with the devil you know rather than choose a new path that only prolongs the pain and brings you to the same conclusion.
“She isn’t fond of being touched these days, by anyone other than her family that is” Carlisle answers for you once again, a subtle jab to the Volturi that has you hearing cracking sounds from Caius’s marble throne, a sound that makes you flinch slightly due to the familiarity of the sound “and we’ve discussed that she doesn't wish to relive what happened, it's just too much for the girl to bare”
“Then have her tell us” Caius demands as he stands from his throne and is only stopped by Aro’s raised hand and your further retreat behind the Cullens “what did those rogues do?”
“You are safe now, dear” Marcus reassures from his throne with a concerned expression on his face, you want to scoff at the word safe as you doubt you’ve felt safe since the day you were turned into the monster you are now “you can confide in us”
Your eyes look at them but your figure continues to shrink into itself as the hairs on the back of your neck prickle up at the sense that the Cullens were watching you, dissecting your every move and waiting to pounce once you said the wrong thing or you gave the wrong look.
“Speak, child” Caius demanded out of frustration as he rose from his throne and strided forward to you, his intention wasn't to distress you but to know what had been done to you in your absence “or did the rogues take out your damned tongue?”
You back away at his sudden presence and feel yourself gulping air that your body didn’t need. Caius is taken aback by this reaction, you had not feared him in decades as you were one of the very few he allowed to see him soft, this was not the girl he remembered so fondly, this was a husk of the gentle soul he had once known.
“Enough, Caius” Aro yells as his hand lands on Caius’s shoulder to stop his demanding approach, the Cullens surrounding you hiss at him aggressively “the poor girl is shaking, leave her be”
Guilt is an emotion that Caius wasn’t used to feeling, sometimes he doubts he’s even able to do so. You prove he can when his eyes land on your trembling figure and widened eyes
“Perhaps it's best if the child waits outside in the gardens while we discuss what happened” Marcus offers as he senses the pure unease and the shift in yours and Caius’s dynamic “if the subject is too much for her to recount”
There is a shift in Carlisle’s demeanour, unable to be caught by people other than your family. There is a glint of victory in his eyes as he senses an opening, a way to shift the narrative into what his delusions have convinced him is the truth. He can tell the story without the pesky intrusions such as your opinion or the truth.
“Excellent idea” Carlisle flashes his charming smile once again “Alice, Jasper, go take her to the gardens-”
“No” Aro interrupts, shocking the Cullens as he waves them away “Jane and Alec will escort her, give them a chance to catch up”
“Aro” Carlisle says warningly, his hand holding onto your shoulder tightly “she's fragile, she should be with family-”
“It wasn't a request” Aro says with a tight grin “loosen the leash Carlisle”
Carlisle sighs and lets go of his tight grip on your shoulder, giving you a final warning look that’s only met with your dead eyes and a nod. Jane and Alec are at your side instantly as they guide you out the room, the door closing behind the three of you
“Now, Cullens” Aro speaks as all three of the Volturi kings look at the family with menacing expressions “tell us what happened to our gentle girl”
The Cullen family couldn’t help but feel nervous at the new sense of suspicion that entered in your absence, trapping them in place.
———————————————————————
Jane and Alec try to talk to you once you reach the gardens, Alec mostly carrying the attempts as Jane observes you with her usual cold, stoic expression yet to the trained eye, traces of concern were etched into her gaze.
You didn’t speak much in return, offering mumbled out yes or nos and small hums in response to their words. It was a strange sight for the two, usually your lovely voice would fill the voids of silence the two siblings had between each other but now you were like a songbird who had lost her voice and now sat sadly at the bottom of her golden cage.
“The night is quite lovely out here tonight” Alec commented as he stood beside you on the balcony overlooking the gardens, the moonlight shining down softly but his words were only met with a small nod from you.
“I’m sure there are some birds around here you could control” Jane offers in her usual stoic tone as her eyes search the treelines for any wildlife “an owl perhaps”
“I don’t really do that much anymore” you mumble out quietly, this news taking the two aback slightly due to them knowing how much you loved your gift and how effortlessly you were usually able to connect with the nature around you “Can’t really find a connection”
You choose to leave ot the fact that any animal you choose to find a connection with chooses to die rather than share your bond, birds flying into windows to avoid singing for you and smaller animals starving themselves rather than to sit at your side.
Your response is only met with silence from the siblings as they’re thoughts race at the revelation, eyes darting to take in every little detail of your demeanour, your dead eyes and tense shoulders as if you were expecting pain to be inflicted at any moment.
“Will you tell us what happened to you, dearest friend?” Jane asks as she stands before you, blood red eyes meeting yours in hidden yearning, desperation “confide in us what has been done to you?”
You still at the question, it's hard to answer questions about the supposed nightmare of your absence without admitting its the most freedom you’ve ever experienced in your life and how much you wish you could magic yourself back into that shared motel room with James and Victoria.
“It's not what you think” is all you offer through a hushed whisper as you avoid their intruding gazes
“Well what can we do to fix it” Alec demands as he intrudes on your personal space in order to bring him a glimpse of the girl you were “to fix you”
Alec had certainly picked up on more of Caius’s habits than either of them would admit, both being hot headed when it concerned you and both blunt when looking to find the cure for you.
“Alec” Jane attempts to calm her brother but he’s already passed his emotional threshold, years of being in the high guard had made them both accustomed to getting their own way so your lack of usual sweetness and cooperation seemed to grate on Alec
“We can get you whatever you need to feel better” Alec offers in a slightly desperate manner “blood, animals, revenge, whatever it takes to heal your mind and to soothe you”
“Freedom” is what your mind screams but your mouth does not allow to speak “freedom is the only thing to fix me, and the one thing you cannot give”
“Just speak it and we can make it happen, dearest” Jane tries to encourage as she notices your mouth open and struggle to find the words
“I…I wish to be alone” you struggle to ask but you look at the siblings with those big eyes of yours, and manage to give them a glimpse of who you once were “please?”
The siblings look at each other before Alec sighs and Jane nods her head, both of them leaving you alone without a word, sensing that pushing you further would only cause more hurt and distress.
You're left alone to stare off the balcony, looking down at the bottom and wondering what kind of fall that would be. You closed your eyes as you envisioned yourself climbing over the balcony and dropping to the bottom, would your body crack like a porcelain doll like how carlisle broke your hand off or would it splinter off like wood like when Emmett pushed your hips too hard into the ground. The thought brings James to mind and the pure guilt causes you to let out a sigh.
“The fall wouldn’t kill you” Your eyes flash open at the sound of a man's voice, turning to find a handsome blonde vampire stood beside you with a cigarette between his fingers and a stoic expression “not unless you knocked down one of the lanterns with you, still a risky move that'll probably only end with you missing a limb though”
You wince slightly at his words, your eyes looking down to your cracked skin and sighing.
“Sorry” he apologises in a way that doesn’t sound very genuine, exhaling the smoke from his lit cigarette “too soon?”
You frown at him as your gaze narrows at his mocking words, eyes landing on his hand that cradles his lit cigarette.
“Does that even do anything for you?” you mutter out curiously, a light scoff emitted from your throat
“Not much” he admits with a careless shrug “but i enjoy the smell”
Your nose crinkles slightly in disgust but you offer him a silent nod as he exhales his smoke.
“So, is making suicidal plans the way you spend your time nowadays?” The vampire asks with a raise brow as he leans against the balcony carelessly
“Do we know each other?” you ask with a frown, confused on how he can speak to you so brazenly
“You and I have been scandalously acquainted for some time now” the vampire states cryptically “just never face to face”
You're about to enquire on whatever that means, a blur of red in the corner of your eye captures your attention instead as you turn your head quickly in the hopes of catching a hint of Victoria and instead finding just a red haired volturi member passing by instead, your shoulders slumping at the revelation.
Your mind had constantly run through scenarios of what had happened to Victoria and where she could be now. Though you doubt that wherever she was that she’d want to see you again, the guilt of James death weighing heavy on your heart-
“She doesn't blame you, y’know” the handsome vampire speaks beside you, interrupting your thoughts once again “stupid to think she would be, wasn’t your fault”
“How would you know?” you ask with a light scoff
“Because I watched everything that happened and I see everything that will happen” the vampire speaks cryptically once again but his blunt tone takes you aback “she still looks for you y’know, not that she’ll find you again with those freaks looking after you-”
“Why are you speaking to me like this?” you interrupt with a frown, partly out of frustration and partly out of confusion as someone speaks of the Cullens disrespectfully.
“Because I know a thing or two about living under the thumb of those who have robbed you of what was yours and expect a thank you for it” he scoffs out before taking a drag of his cigarette “I know the dark place your mind is in, been there once or twice myself”
A heavy silence sits between the two of you, the only sound being the owls in the trees
“...how did you escape them?” you ask quietly as you copy his stance of leaning against the balcony “your captors”
“I played the long game, let the treat me like an animal and spit in my face and thanked them for it until I had the chance to commit my revenge” he explains stoically “I waited for the perfect moment”
“Didn’t work out well for me” you remark bitterly but you're only rewarded with a scoff from the vampire “what?”
“You didn’t do it right, you waited for others to join you before you committed to the idea of revenge or freedom outside of dying” the vampire scoffs out “granted you played the long game but you played it so long that you grew too content with the idea that death was the only way out”
“I tried-” you attempt to interrupt but the man turns to you suddenly and looks you in the eyes
“You were weak, you waited on others to save you” the man states bluntly “nobody is coming to save you, either do it yourself or accept the Cullens as your forever home”
Your eyes widen at his words and blunt demeanour and the truth he held, the truth that others had shielded you from and that you’d buried within yourself to avoid facing. He didn't coddle you or sugarcoat his words for you, he spoke to you like you could handle it and treated you almost like an equal.
“I’m not saying it to be mean” he states calmly “but no one ever speaks to you plainly, your not a kid and you can handle the truth”
“What's your name?” you ask suddenly, an act that has the vampires eyes widening in shock
“Alexander Johnson Ward” he answers with a narrowed gaze, he was expecting tears, not personal questions “people call me Johnny”
“Thank you, Johnny” you say genuinely as you look up at him in light curiosity “for the advice”
“No problem” Johnny responds with a slight huff of amusement as he puts his cigarette out “I better get out of here”
“I’ll see you around?” you call after his retreating figure with a curious tone
“Like a shadow” he calls back before leaving you alone on the balcony, your eyes following his absence.
You hear the gentle sounds of an owl in the trees nearby, closing your eyes and summoning it closer. The owl perches on the edge of the balcony in front of you, being able to connect with an animal without it dying for the first time in a while. You stroke the owl gently and listen to its gentle song as your mind tries to form your next plan.
Nobody is going to save you, you need to save yourself this time.
How do y’all like the update you’ve been wanting for nearly two years? 😅
Can you do one were Demetri learns sign language for the reader because she's his mate . Felix and Jane tease him being love sick fool. But they also learns too because the reader is their best friend.
Silent Bonds
Pairing: Demetri Volturi x Deaf!Reader (soulmate/mate bond)
Summary: When Demetri discovers his mate is Deaf, he wastes no time in learning her language. Of course, Felix and Jane tease him mercilessly for being a love-struck fool, but they love the reader like their own sister—and soon they’re learning too.
⸻
When Demetri first laid eyes on you in Volterra, the world fell silent in a way he had never known before.
It wasn’t just the bond—the gravity pulling him toward you with undeniable certainty—it was the way you carried silence like armor. The way your hands moved like poetry, shaping meaning in the air. The way your smile bloomed when someone actually tried to understand.
He didn’t need Aro’s gift to know. You were his mate.
But you were also Deaf.
And Demetri, the Volturi’s most skilled tracker, suddenly found himself unable to speak the language that mattered most.
⸻
At first, he relied on gestures, awkward scribbles on scraps of parchment, and the occasional translation from others who knew a few clumsy signs. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him.
Not when you deserved more than halfway communication.
So he learned.
He stayed up in the palace library for nights on end, memorizing the twists of fingers and the flicks of wrists, repeating motions in the mirror until they felt natural. His accent in the language was heavy at first—signs too stiff, movements too sharp—but he practiced relentlessly. Because if it meant you would never feel alone in his presence, he would master every movement.
⸻
Felix caught him one evening in the library, hunched over a book with his hands moving like a conductor gone rogue.
“Please tell me you’re not rehearsing ballet in here,” Felix smirked, leaning against the doorframe.
Demetri didn’t look up. “I’m practicing.”
Felix’s grin widened. “Practicing what? The art of looking like a lovesick idiot?”
Demetri finally glanced at him, unimpressed. “Sign language.”
Felix’s laugh boomed through the hall. “Oh my God. You really are gone for her. The Demetri—terrifying tracker of the Volturi—reduced to wiggling his fingers because his mate bats her eyelashes.”
“She doesn’t need eyelashes,” Demetri said flatly, but his ears tinged pink.
⸻
Jane, of course, joined the teasing not long after.
The first time she saw him sign hello, my love to you in careful, deliberate motions, she raised a brow.
“Unbelievable. The executioner of kings is now playing charades for affection.”
You had laughed then, covering your mouth to hide it, but Demetri only smirked. “Better a fool in love than a heartless child, Jane.”
Her glare could have killed anyone else. But then you touched her arm, smiling, and signed something simple: friend.
Jane blinked. Her chest ached in a way she didn’t understand.
⸻
It happened gradually.
First, Felix asked you what the sign for “idiot” was. (He used it on Demetri five times in one hour.)
Then Jane asked how to sign “family.” (She used it once, quickly, like the word might burn her lips if she said it aloud.)
Then both of them were demanding lessons, disguising it under excuses.
Felix: “Someone’s gotta translate when lover boy isn’t around.”
Jane: “I need to know when you two are making fun of me behind my back.”
But the truth was simpler. They loved you too.
⸻
Soon, it wasn’t unusual to see Felix’s huge hands carefully spelling out words, or Jane’s precise fingers forming sentences sharper than her tongue. They fumbled sometimes, but they tried. For you.
You found yourself with three guardians in Volterra:
• Demetri, who signed fluently now, whispering his devotion in every careful motion.
• Felix, who constantly signed hungry? even though you never needed to eat.
• Jane, who pretended to scowl when you corrected her hand shape but secretly practiced in her room at night.
The three of them, terrifying pillars of the Volturi guard, became your family.
⸻
One evening, you sat in the throne room with Demetri at your side, your hand tucked into his. Aro watched with quiet fascination as Felix and Jane bickered in clumsy but determined signs.
Felix: You smell funny.
Jane: No. You are ugly.
You burst into laughter, shoulders shaking.
Demetri signed smoothly, his movements like water: Don’t mind them. They’re children.
You leaned into his side, signing back: They’re my children now.
Felix scowled. “What did she say?”
“She said she loves you,” Demetri lied smoothly, smirking when Felix softened.
Jane narrowed her eyes. “She did not.”
“Believe what you like,” Demetri said, pulling you closer.
You giggled, signing quick and secret into his palm: You’re a terrible liar.
His answering grin was the most lovesick thing Felix and Jane had ever seen.
Disclaimer:
I do not own Twilight or any of its characters. All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer. This is a work of fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.
Actually, it was even longer, but I reached Tumblr’s limit so this is turning into a series with multiple parts!I’ve got a serious creative writing overflow right now, and I yearn to write, haha. As always, English is not my first language, so there will be some mistakes I apologize in advance! I’d love to get some feedback or requests that I can write. I also plan to write for the other guards too! Enjoy xoxo
The leather seat was cold against your back, the chill seeping through your clothes and settling into your bones. Or perhaps it wasn’t the seat at all perhaps it was the icy dread that had taken residence in your chest, spreading through your veins like frost across a winter window.
Your fingers gripped the edge of the seat, knuckles white, as Alice took another sharp turn. The stolen car because of course it was stolen, though that seemed almost laughably insignificant now hugged the curve of the narrow Italian road with a screech of tires. The countryside blurred past the window in streaks of gold and green ancient olive groves, terracotta rooftops, cypress trees standing like dark sentinels against the afternoon sky.
It should have been beautiful.
It wasn’t.
Twenty four hours. That’s all it had taken for your entire understanding of reality to shatter like glass under a hammer.
Vampires were real.
The thought still didn’t feel real, even as you turned it over in your mind for the hundredth time. Vampires. Not the stuff of movies and Halloween costumes and goth kids with too much eyeliner. Real. Edward Cullen the brooding, Pale boy from Forks High School who always looked vaguely distrest was a vampire. So were his siblings the tall, blonde one who looked like she’d stepped out of a shampoo commercial, the big one who never stopped grinning, the smaller blond one who looked perpetually annoyed, and Alice.
Alice, who sat in the driver’s seat now, her pixie cut hair perfectly styled despite the chaos, her small hands gripping the steering wheel with inhuman precision as she wove through traffic like she was playing a video game. Alice, who could see the future. Who had seen something that made her insist no, demand that you come on this absolutely insane mission.
And Dr. Cullen. Sweet, kind Dr. Cullen who’d stitched you up that time you’d sliced your hand open. A vampire. His wife too, with her kind eyes and warm smile.
All of them.
The word still felt strange in your mouth, impossible and heavy. You’d spent the entire car ride first the frantic drive to the airport, then the endless flight across the Atlantic, and now this breakneck race through Tuscany trying to wrap your mind around it. Trying to make it make sense.
It didn’t.
And now Edward, the vampire who’d started all of this, wanted to kill himself.
Because he thought Bella was dead.
Bella, who was very much alive and sitting in the passenger seat, her face pale and drawn, her fingers twisted together in her lap. Bella, who’d been a shell of a person for months after Edward left her. Who’d screamed herself awake every night. Who’d sought out danger like an addict seeking a fix, just to hear his voice in her head.
Edward, who’d abandoned her in the woods like she was nothing. Who’d left her vulnerable while a red headed vampire, because apparently there were more of them, just roaming around hunted her like prey.
And now Bella was ready to throw herself into the lion’s den to save him.
You didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand any of it.
If it was up to you, Edward Cullen could march into the Italian sunlight and sparkle himself to death in front of vampire royalty because apparently that was a thing too, and you wouldn’t shed a single tear.
But it wasn’t up to you.
Nothing was up to you.
You were just… here. Dragged along for reasons Alice refused to explain, no matter how many times you asked. And you had asked. On the plane, you’d asked at least a dozen times. “Why do I need to come?” “What does this have to do with me?” “Alice, please, just tell me what you saw.”
But she’d just looked at you with those strange golden eyes, really, like a cat’s eyes catching light and said, “You need to be there. Trust me.”
Trust.
The word felt hollow now, rattling around in your chest like a dried seed in a gourd.
“Alina”
Alice’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts like a knife. Sharp. Urgent. You jerked your attention forward and saw her eyes flick to the rearview mirror, meeting yours for just a fraction of a second.
There was something in those eyes. Something you’d never seen before.
Fear.
Alice was afraid.
The realization sent a fresh wave of ice through your veins.
“Listen to me very carefully,” she said, her voice low and fast as she whipped the wheel to the left, overtaking a small Fiat with what couldn’t have been more than inches to spare. The driver laid on the horn, the sound angry and prolonged, but Alice didn’t even flinch. Her eyes stayed fixed on the road, her jaw set. “When we get there, you stay close to me. Within arm’s reach at all times. Do you understand?”
You leaned forward slightly, your heart already beginning to race. “Alice”
“Do you understand?” she repeated, harder this time.
“Yes,” you whispered.
“Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t look at them if you can help it. Don’t draw attention to yourself.” She took a breath, unnecessary for her but somehow emphasized. “Just do exactly as I say and try not to get noticed.”
The words settled over you like a shroud.
“Why?” The question burst out of you before you could stop it, louder and sharper than you intended. Your voice cracked slightly. “Why do I even have to go with you if it’s so dangerous? Alice, this is insane you said yourself it’s dangerous, so why?”
“Bella,” Alice cut you off, her attention already shifting away. “We’re almost there. The moment we arrive, we run. Straight for the clock tower. No hesitation. Do you understand?”
Bella nodded, her face somehow even paler than before.
You sat back hard against the seat, frustration and fear warring in your chest, making it hard to breathe. No one was going to answer you. No one was going to explain. You were just expected to follow along, to trust, to walk into danger for reasons no one would share.
Like a lamb being led to slaughter.
The city of Volterra rose before you like something out of a medieval painting. Ancient stone walls, weathered by centuries, climbed the hillside in irregular curves. Terracotta roofs huddled together within the walls, and at the highest point, a tower rose against the blue sky, the clock tower, you realized. The hands were approaching noon, the sun climbing higher, brighter.
It should have been beautiful. Romantic, even. The kind of place you’d want to visit on vacation, to wander the narrow streets and eat gelato and take photographs.
Instead, it looked like a fortress.
A trap.
The streets were packed with people as Alice navigated into the city, all of them dressed in strange red cloaks, laughing and chattering in rapid Italian. Some kind of festival, you realized dimly. They filled the narrow roads, moving in rivers of crimson.
Alice didn’t slow down.
“Hold on,” she muttered.
The car lurched forward, scattering people, and then Alice was slamming on the brakes. The car screeched to a stop at an angle, half on the sidewalk, completely illegal and completely blocking traffic.
She didn’t care.
“Now!” she said, and Bella was already out of the car, moving. “Run!”
Your hands fumbled with the seatbelt, your fingers clumsy with adrenaline. By the time you got the door open and stumbled out, Bella was already several paces ahead, weaving through the crowd of red cloaked festivalgoers.
Your shoes completely inappropriate for running, you realized now slapped against the cobblestones as you dodged between people. The crowd was thick, the festivalgoers laughing and drinking, and you had to push past them, muttering apologies in English that no one understood.
Alice urged you to run faster but you couldn’t keep up she promptly threw you in her cold hard arms zooming to the Palaza withe you
Your lungs burned. Your legs ached. You felt dizzy. You’d never been athletic, and certainly not built for sprinting through medieval Italian cities.
The narrow street opened suddenly into a plaza, and there it was the clock tower, massive and imposing.
And at the base of the tower, partially hidden in shadow, stood a pair of massive wooden doors.
Alice reached them, leting go, stumbling to a stop beside her, gasping for breath. Your chest heaving, a stitch burning in your side.
Alice didn’t wait. She placed her small, delicate hands against the ancient oak doors doors that must have weighed hundreds of pounds, that must have been locked and bolted and she pushed.
The sound was like a gunshot.
The wood splintered. The lock shattered. The doors burst inward with a groan of protesting metal and wood, swinging open to reveal darkness beyond.
Alice was already moving inside, pulling you with her. “Come on,” she hissed at you.
You didn’t think. You just followed, stumbling through the broken doorway into shadow.
The temperature dropped immediately. The sounds of the festival cut off as if someone had closed a door which, you supposed, someone had. The darkness was absolute for a moment, and then your eyes began to adjust.
You were in a stone hallway. Ancient stone, the kind that had stood for centuries, maybe longer. The walls were decorate elegantly in dark colours with, and the air smelled of warmth and age.
Alice moved forward without hesitation, her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling her along. You followed, your footsteps echoing too loudly in the enclosed space.
Your heart hammered against your ribs.
And waiting there, as if they’d been expecting you because of course they had been were four figures.
No.
Two figures as well as Bella and Edward.
Edward stood in the center of the corridor, shirtless, his marble pale chest catching the torchlight. He looked surprised, his gold eyes widening as he saw you, as he saw Alice.
His brows furrowed in confusion, his gaze locking onto you for a moment too long. As if he couldn’t understand why you were there. As if your presence was wrong somehow, unexpected in whatever future Alice had shown him.
Alice said, smooth and almost cheerful, tinged with amusement. “Come on, guys. There are ladies present you wouldn’t want to make a scene.”
You looked at the two other figures
One was massive. Taller even than Emmett which you hadn’t thought possible with shoulders that seemed to fill the corridor. His skin was pale as marble, smooth and perfect and utterly inhuman. His hair was dark, cropped short, and his face might have been handsome if not for the expression he wore.
And his eyes.
Red.
Deep, vivid crimson, like fresh blood.
The Cullens had golden eyes. Warm amber, like honey in sunlight. You wondered why maybe it was like human eye colour…
His eyes made you uneasy
And he was staring at you.
Not just looking. Staring. His gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your stomach drop, made your instincts scream at you to run, to hide, to do anything but stand there. His lips curved into a slow grin, and there was something in it, something hungry and lustful and predatory all at once.
Like a cat that had just spotted a mouse.
Your mouth went dry, heart beat picking up
But it was the other one the second figure who made the world tilt beneath your feet.
He was tall but leaner and a bit smaller than the giant, built like a god you thought long lines and controlled grace. His hair was dirty blond, styled in a way that seemed artfully careless, though you suspected nothing about him was careless. His features were sharp and aristocratic high cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jaw, lips that were full and curved in a way that might have been sensual if everything else about him wasn’t so clearly dangerous.
He was beautiful.
Devastatingly, impossibly beautiful, like a Renaissance sculpture come to life. Like something that shouldn’t exist in the real world.
And you felt it.
That pull.
It hit you like a physical blow, stealing the air from your lungs. Like someone had wrapped a rope around your chest and yanked, trying to drag you toward him. Your feet actually shifted forward a step before you caught yourself, before you managed to lock your knees.
What the hell?
You’d never felt anything like it. It was magnetic. Irresistible. And wrong so wrong.
Your heart lurched in your chest, your pulse suddenly too fast, too loud. You could hear it in your ears, feel it in your throat.
And he noticed.
His head turned, slowly, deliberately, until his gaze found yours.
And locked.
His eyes were black.
Not brown. Not dark. Black. Pitch black, like pools of ink, like endless voids. There was no iris, no distinction between pupil and anything else. Just black, fathomless and hungry.
They fixed on you with an intensity that made your knees weak, made your breath stutter in your chest.
And he growled.
Low. Quiet. A sound that rumbled from deep in his chest like distant thunder.
Every instinct in your body every primal, ancient part of your brain that remembered what it meant to be prey screamed at you.
Run.
But you couldn’t move.
Your legs wouldn’t work. You were frozen, pinned under that terrible gaze like a butterfly under glass.
Your hand shot out blindly, grabbing for Alice who was looking at Edward with uneas, finding the fabric of her jacket and clutching it like a lifeline. You tried to step behind her, to hide behind her small frame, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
If he wanted you, she couldn’t stop him.
The giant chuckled, the sound deep and amused, echoing slightly in the corridor. “Interesting,” he said, his accent faintly European French, maybe? “Another human. This keeps getting better and better.”
His red eyes glittered with amusement, still fixed on you.
“Enough.”
The new voice was sharp and cold, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Everyone’s attention shifted even the blond vampire’s gaze finally released you, and you gasped as if you’d been held underwater.
A girl stood at the end of the corridor.
with pale blonde hair and delicate features. She wore a dark cloak, the fabric expensive looking, and her face was angelic. Innocent.
Porcelain perfect.
But the way Edward stiffened, the way Bella went somehow even paler, the way Alice’s grip on your arm tightened almost painfully
You knew
This girl was dangerous.
More dangerous than the others, maybe. Despite her size. Despite her appearance.
“Aro is expecting us,” the girl said, her voice soft and sweet, almost musical. It made your skin crawl. “He wants to know what’s taking so long.”
“Jane,” Edward said, and the single word was heavy with dread.
Jane tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing at her lips. Then she turned, her cloak swirling around her, and began walking deeper into the corridor.
“Just do as she says,” Edward muttered, his voice tight. He reached for Bella’s hand, and she took it immediately, clutching at him like he was her anchor.
They followed Jane without another word.
Alice tugged you forward, and you stumbled after her on legs that felt like jelly.
Which meant the other two fell into step behind you.
Your skin prickled with awareness. You could feel them back there. The blond one and the giant close. Too close. The air itself seemed to hum with their presence, charged like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.
You wanted to look back. Desperately. You wanted to see where he was, how close, what he was doing.
But you didn’t dare.
The corridor stretched on, silent except for footsteps on stone. Your breathing sounded too loud in your ears, too fast. You tried to calm it, but your body wouldn’t obey.
Torches lined the walls at regular intervals, their flames casting dancing shadows that seemed to reach for you.
The ceiling arched high above, disappearing into darkness.
How far underground were you?
The corridor turned, and turned again, a labyrinth of ancient stone. You tried to memorize the path left, then right, then straight but you knew it was useless. You’d never find your way out alone.
And then you saw it an elevator.
It was old, ornate, the kind of cage elevator you’d see in old European buildings or vintage hotels. Wrought iron worked into elaborate patterns, polished until it gleamed in the torchlight.
Jane reached it first and pulled open the gate with a metallic screech. She stepped inside, and Edward and Bella followed immediately.
Alice moved forward, her grip tight on your arm, pulling you along with her toward the ornate elevator. Your feet moved automatically, one in front of the other, even though every instinct screamed at you to resist, to pull away, to run.
But where would you run to? You were underground, in a labyrinth of ancient stone corridors, surrounded by vampires. There was nowhere to go.
“Wait.”
The single word cut through the air like a blade.
Jane’s hand came up, small and delicate and pale as porcelain. The gesture was almost casual, but Alice stopped immediately, as if she’d hit an invisible wall.
“It appears,” Jane said, her voice sweet and musical, echoing slightly in the stone corridor, “that the elevator is too small for us all.”
You looked at the elevator. Really looked at it.
It wasn’t small. The wrought iron cage was spacious, elegant, clearly designed to accommodate multiple people. It could easily fit six, maybe seven people comfortably.
This was deliberate.
Your stomach twisted with dread.
“Demetri,” Jane continued, her cherubic face turning slightly, her gaze sliding past you to focus on something, someone, behind you. “Stay behind with the other human. Make sure she doesn’t run.”
Demetri.
So that was his name.
The name seemed to echo in your mind, settling there like a stone dropping into dark water. Demetri. The blond vampire who’d been staring at you with those pitch black, hungry eyes. The one who made that inexplicable pull in your chest intensify until you could barely breathe.
Your heart dropped into your stomach, your pulse suddenly deafening in your ears.
“I will inform Aro that you’ll be following shortly,” Jane added, her tone pleasant, as if she were discussing dinner plans rather than separating you from the only people who might protect you.
“Alice…” you started, your voice cracking, desperation bleeding through.
But Alice’s hand tightened on your arm, her fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to bruise. Cutting you off. Silencing you.
You looked at her desperately, pleadingly, your eyes wide and probably wild with fear. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me alone with him.
Her golden eyes met yours, and you saw it all there in that brief moment apology, worry, fear. She knew what she was doing. She knew what this meant. And she was doing it anyway.
But she didn’t fight it. Didn’t argue. Didn’t try to negotiate or insist that you come with them.
She just… let go of your arm.
And stepped into the elevator.
The sense of betrayal that flooded through you was almost physical, a sharp pain in your chest that made it hard to breathe.
Edward was looking at you too, his expression conflicted, his jaw tight with tension. His golden eyes darted from your face to something behind you, to Demetri, you realized, and his brows furrowed deeply, as if he were seeing something that troubled him. Something that made him uneasy.
But he said nothing.
He didn’t protest. Didn’t object. Didn’t offer to stay behind in your place or insist that you come with them.
He just stood there, one arm around Bella, and watched as Jane pulled the gate closed.
The metal clanged shut with a sound that felt horribly final.
The elevator began to descend with a mechanical whir and the grinding of old gears, the cage disappearing slowly into the darkness below.
Taking Alice and Edward and Bella with it.
Leaving you behind.
And they were gone.
For a single, frozen moment, there was only silence.
The kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums, that made you acutely aware of every small sound. The distant drip of water somewhere in the stone corridors. The faint crackle of the torches on the walls.
And your own heartbeat.
Fast. Too fast. Hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape your chest.
You could hear your breathing, too. Shallow and quick, barely pulling in enough air, making you feel lightheaded.
And then…
Wind.
A gust of cold air, sudden and sharp, there and gone in an instant.
And suddenly he was in front of you.
You gasped, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet corridor, and stumbled backward on instinct.
Demetri stood inches away.
Only Inches.
Up close, he was even more devastating than before. The torchlight played across his features like he’d been specifically designed to be displayed in flickering firelight. It highlighted the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the strong, defined line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, lips that were curved in a slight smirk, amused by your reaction.
His skin was smooth and pale and utterly flawless, like marble carved by a master’s hand. Not a single imperfection, not a pore or a freckle or any sign that he’d ever been human at all.
Beautiful.
Impossibly, inhumanly beautiful in a way that made something in your chest ache.
And tall. God, he was tall. He towered over you, his frame blocking out most of the light from the torches behind him, casting you in his shadow. His shoulders were broad, his build lean but powerful, every line of him radiating controlled strength and predatory grace.
But it was his eyes that held you captive.
Still black. Still endless.
Still hungry.
They roamed over your face slowly, deliberately, tracing the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the shape of your lips. As if he were memorizing every detail. As if you were something fascinating, something rare and precious that he wanted to understand completely.
Or devour.
You couldn’t tell which.
Maybe both.
“It’s rude to back away, darling,” he said, and his voice…
God, his voice.
It was deep and rich, smooth like aged whiskey, with a faint accent you couldn’t quite place. Mediterranean, maybe, but old. Ancient. The kind of accent that had softened and shifted and evolved over centuries, picking up influences from a dozen different languages and places.
The sound of it resonated in your chest, made your pulse spike even higher, made heat coil low in your belly despite the bone deep terror coursing through you.
You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but nothing came out. Your voice had abandoned you entirely, fled somewhere your mind couldn’t reach. Your tongue felt thick and useless in your mouth.
His lips curved into a slow smirk, clearly amused by your silence. By your fear. By the way you were frozen in his grasp like a cornered animal.
He liked it, you realized with a jolt of horror. He enjoyed this. The power. The control. Your fear.
“Tell me,” he said, and this time his voice changed. Became harder. Commanding. Authoritative. The kind of voice that didn’t ask but demanded, that expected immediate obedience and wouldn’t tolerate anything less. “What’s your name?”
The question bypassed your brain entirely, shot straight past any conscious thought or decision, and went directly to your mouth.
But you clamped your lips shut, pressing them together hard, forcing the answer back down.
Alice’s words echoed in your mind Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t look at them if you can help it.
You’d already failed at the second part, you couldn’t not look at him, not when he was right there, filling your entire field of vision, but you could still manage the first.
You didn’t answer.
His smirk faded slightly. His eyes narrowed, just a fraction, and something dangerous flickered in those black depths.
He stepped closer.
Impossibly closer, eliminating what little space had remained between you. You could feel the cold radiating off him now, seeping through your clothes, making you shiver. He was like standing near an open freezer, all that unnatural chill that reminded you he wasn’t human, wasn’t alive, not in any way that mattered.
“I believe I asked you a question,” he said, his voice dropping lower, taking on an edge that made your survival instincts scream. “Now. Answer. Me.”
The command in his voice was overwhelming, undeniable. It wrapped around you like chains, pulling at something deep inside you that wanted desperately to obey, to please, to give him whatever he wanted.
“A…Alina,” you stammered, the name tumbling out before you could stop it, barely recognizing your own voice. It sounded small and frightened and broken.
“Alina,” he repeated slowly, thoughtfully, as if testing the weight of it.
The way he said it made it sound like something precious. Something beautiful and rare. He rolled each letter on his tongue as if tasting it, savoring it, testing the shape and sound of your name in his mouth.
His smirk returned, widening into something that might have been a smile if it wasn’t so predatory. If it didn’t make him look like a wolf that had just caught the scent of wounded prey.
“Alina,” he said again, and this time it sounded like a purr.
And then he moved again.
That same impossible speed, that same gust of cold wind that announced his movement, and suddenly he was behind you.
Your entire body locked up, every muscle going rigid with tension and fear.
You couldn’t see him anymore, but you felt him. God, you felt him. The cold presence of him at your back, so close that you could feel the chill radiating from his body through your clothes, seeping into your skin. Close enough that if you leaned back even slightly, if you lost your balance for even a second, you’d be touching him.
Pressed against that hard, cold, marble body.
His hand came up, and you felt his fingers, cold, so impossibly cold, brush against your hair.
The touch was feather light, almost gentle, but it made electricity shoot down your spine.
He lifted a strand of your hair, slowly, carefully, as if it were made of the finest silk and might break if he wasn’t cautious. You felt the faint tug at your scalp as he separated it from the rest, raising it.
And then you heard him inhale.
Deeply.
Deliberately.
A long, slow breath, as if he were breathing you in, drawing your scent deep into his lungs and savoring it like fine wine.
“You smell exquisite, Alina,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, meant only for you. His breath, cold, unnecessary, a mockery of human habit, brushed against your ear, making you shudder.
A small sound escaped your throat before you could stop it. A whimper, high and frightened and entirely involuntary.
You wanted to be strong. Wanted to be brave. Wanted to face this with dignity.
But you were terrified.
Your entire body shivered, trembling like a leaf in a storm, and you hated yourself for it. Hated that your body was responding to him, to his proximity, to his voice, to his touch, even as your mind screamed at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there frozen.
That pull was still there. Stronger now. Overwhelming.
It made you want to lean back into him. Made you want to turn around and press yourself against that cold chest and…
No.
God damn it, what the hell was happening to you?
This wasn’t normal. This couldn’t be normal. You didn’t know this person, this thing, and yet your body was reacting like… like…
You didn’t even have words for it.
“Tell me, Alina,” Demetri continued, his voice a purr that seemed to vibrate through your bones, resonating in your chest. His fingers still held that strand of your hair, twirling it slowly between his fingers, playing with it. “What’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this?”
And with that, he pulled.
Not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to make your head tilt back, to make you lean against him. Your back pressed against his chest, and it was exactly as you’d feared, hard as marble, cold as ice, utterly unyielding. Like leaning against a statue.
A statue that was holding you captive.
“I…I don’t know,” you gasped out, your voice shaking. “Alice didn’t tell me.”
You felt him go still behind you.
The change was immediate and terrifying. The playful, almost teasing quality that had been in his voice vanished, replaced by something colder. Harder.
He was angry.
You’d said something wrong, though you had no idea what.
The silence stretched for a long, horrible moment, and you didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe.
And then…
Ding.
The sound of the elevator returning, the mechanical whir of gears and the rattle of the cage rising back up the shaft.
Someone must have pressed the button to call it back up. To summon it.
Relief flooded through you so intensely you felt dizzy with it.
Demetri released your hair and stepped away, the cold presence at your back disappearing. You nearly stumbled without him there, your legs weak and unsteady.
He moved in front of you again with that impossible speed, positioning himself between you and the elevator as it arrived with a final clank.
The gate opened.
The cage was empty.
Demetri turned to look at you, his expression unreadable now, carefully blank. He gestured toward the elevator with one hand, the movement graceful and courteous, like a gentleman inviting a lady to enter.
As if he hadn’t just been holding you against him. As if he hadn’t just terrified you.
“After you,” he said, his voice once again smooth and controlled.
You didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
He raised one eyebrow expectantly.
You forced your legs to work, forced yourself to take one shaking step forward, then another. You walked into the elevator on legs that felt like they might give out at any moment, your hands trembling as you gripped the ornate iron railing inside.
Demetri followed, stepping in behind you, and pulled the gate closed with a metallic clang that echoed in the shaft.
The elevator began to descend.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the grinding of gears, the creak of old metal, and that faint opera music drifting up from below.
You kept your eyes fixed forward, staring at the stone wall passing by through the gaps in the cage, trying desperately not to think about how small this space was. How trapped you were.
“You’re afraid,” Demetri said suddenly, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a question.
You didn’t answer. Didn’t trust your voice.
“You should be,” he continued, and there was something almost… approving in his tone. “Fear is wise. It keeps prey alive.”
The word prey made your blood run cold.
“I’m not…” you started, then stopped, because what could you say? That you weren’t prey? When everything about this situation screamed that you were exactly that?
“You’re not what?” he pressed, and you could hear the amusement in his voice now. He was enjoying this. Enjoying your fear, your helplessness.
“I’m not just… I’m a person,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.
There was a pause. And then, unexpectedly, he laughed. It was a soft sound, rich and genuine, and somehow that made it worse.
“Yes,” he said amused, and suddenly he was closer, you could feel him right behind you again, his presence overwhelming in the confined space. “You are Prey, my Prey.”
The possessiveness in those words made you shiver.
“I don’t belong to you,” you whispered, even though you knew it was pointless to argue.
“Don’t you?” His voice was right by your ear now, intimate and dark. “We’ll see about that, cara mia.”
The elevator shuddered to a stop, and you nearly sobbed with relief
The gate opened, and you practically fled from the cage, desperate for space, for air, for anything but that suffocating closeness.
Down here, it was significantly darker than above. No more windows. No more natural light filtering in from the world outside, no more warm, earthy tones of sun baked stone and terracotta.
Just torches and shadows.
The corridor stretched before you, impossibly long, lined with more of those ever-burning torches that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The ceiling arched high overhead, disappearing into darkness. The stones beneath your feet were worn smooth, polished by countless footsteps over countless centuries.
How deep underground were you?
How far from the surface, from sunlight, from safety?
The longer you walked, the more your unease grew, expanding in your chest until it felt like you couldn’t breathe properly. Every step took you deeper into this place, further from any hope of escape.
You felt again like a lamb being led to slaughter, walking docilely toward your own doom.
You shivered, partly from fear and partly from the cold. It was freezing down here, the chill seeping into your bones, making your fingers numb.
And suddenly, you weren’t cold anymore.
Weight settled over your shoulders, heavy, warm, soft. A cloak, you realized dimly. A thick, dark cloak had been draped around you, the fabric so dark it was nearly black, the interior lined with fur that felt impossibly soft and luxurious against your skin. Like a runway piece.
The warmth was immediate and blissful.
You looked up, startled, and found Demetri watching you. He’d moved beside you at some point, silent as a ghost, and had placed his own cloak around your shoulders.
The gesture was… unexpected. Almost kind.
It confused you.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You pulled the cloak tighter around yourself, grateful for the warmth even as you wondered at his motive. “But won’t you be cold without it?”
The words were out before you could think about them.
His expression changed immediately.
His brows furrowed, his jaw tightening, and anger flashed in those black eyes. Real anger, sharp and sudden.
“Did you just ask me if I would become cold?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
You flinched. “Y…yes, I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
You didn’t get to finish.
His hand shot out, fingers gripping your chin and forcing your head up, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. His hold was firm, unbreakable, his cold fingers pressing into your skin.
“Are you even aware of what we are?” he demanded, his voice hard.
“Yes,” you whispered, your heart racing again. “Alice told me on the plane here.”
“On the plane?” He repeated the words slowly, as if testing them. As if they meant something significant.
His eyes searched yours for a long moment, something calculating flickering in their depths.
And then he moved.
His hand shifted from your chin to your arm, gripping it firmly, and then he was pulling you forward. Not walking, running. Moving at that impossible inhuman speed that made the corridor blur around you, made your stomach lurch with disorientation.
You stumbled, your feet barely keeping up, and then you weren’t walking at all, he was half dragging, half carrying you, moving so fast the torches became streaks of light.
And then, suddenly, you stopped.
Two massive double doors loomed before you, easily twice your height, made of dark wood carved with intricate designs that might have been beautiful if you weren’t so terrified.
Demetri didn’t slow down.
He hit the doors with his shoulder, and they burst open with a thunderous boom that echoed through the chamber beyond.
And the sight that greeted you stole what little breath you had left.
The room was one of the most marvelous spaces you had ever seen.
It reminded you of the Vatican, not that you’d ever been, but you’d seen pictures. That same overwhelming grandeur, that same sense of ancient power and wealth and importance.
The ceiling soared overhead, painted with elaborate frescoes that depicted scenes you couldn’t quite make out in the flickering torchlight. Marble columns rose at intervals, supporting the vaulted ceiling. The floor was polished stone, reflecting the light like dark water.
And at the far end of the chamber, raised on a dais, stood three thrones.
Not chairs. Thrones. Massive, ornate, carved from stone and cushioned with rich fabrics in deep crimsons and golds. The kind of thrones kings would sit on. Emperors.
One of the thrones was empty.
Standing in front of the one in the middle, as if he’d been pacing, was a figure in dark robes.
He turned as the doors burst open, and his face lit up with delighted interest.
The vampire had long black hair that fell past his shoulders, his face pale and ageless, his eyes a deep, unsettling crimson. He wore robes, actual robes, like something from a Renaissance painting, in black and deep burgundy. He looked… eager. Excited. There was something childlike in his expression, something unsettling in the way he smiled, wide and genuine.
Sitting behind him were the other two. One with hair as white as snow, stern and disapproving, his posture rigid and formal. And another with wheat colored hair, looking almost bored, as if this interruption was mildly inconvenient at best.
These were the kings.
The vampire royalty Alice had mentioned.
The Volturi.
Demetri marched right up to the raven haired king, his hand still gripping your arm, pulling you along with him. You stumbled trying to keep up, your legs shaking, and your eyes darted around wildly, trying to take everything in.
Alice was there, standing near Edward and Bella. All three of them turned as you entered, their expressions varying degrees of worry and shock.
Edward’s eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightening.
Alice looked… guilty. And afraid.
Bella just stared at you, her face pale, her eyes wide with something that looked like horror.
The giant vampire, Felix, you remembered his name now, was leaning against one of the columns, and his red eyes found you immediately. That same predatory grin spread across his face, like he was delighted by this new development.
And Jane stood near the thrones, beside a boy who looked remarkably similar to her. They both looked about eighteen, though something about their eyes suggested they were far, far older. Both pale and angelically beautiful and utterly terrifying.
Demetri stopped before the raven haired king and extended his hand.
The king’s eyes lit up, actually lit up, like a child being offered a present. He practically bounced forward and placed his hand in Demetri’s, his palm pressing against Demetri’s palm.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then the king’s eyes glazed over slightly, his focus turning inward, as if he were watching something only he could see.
What the hell…?
How could this situation get any more weird? How was any of this possible to begin with?
The king’s eyes cleared, and he released Demetri’s hand. For a moment, he was completely still.
And then he threw his head back and laughed.
The sound echoed through the chamber, high and delighted, almost manic in its joy.
“Ahhhh,” he exclaimed loudly, his voice carrying through the vast space. “What a lovely surprise!”
He spun around, his robes swirling dramatically, and spread his arms wide as if addressing an audience.
“Our dear Demetri has found his mate!” he announced, his voice full of genuine delight. “Isn’t that marvelous?”
The word hit you like a physical blow.
Mate.
You looked at Alice, your eyes finding her across the chamber.
The look on your face could probably be described as complete and utter devastation. Betrayal. Horror.
Understanding crashed over you like a wave.
She’d known.
Alice had known.
That’s why she’d insisted you come. That’s why she’d refused to explain, why she’d dragged you, no, kidnapped you, to Italy without telling you why.
Because she’d seen this.
She’d seen that this vampire, this monster, was apparently your “mate,” whatever the hell that meant.
And she’d brought you here anyway.
Rage exploded in your chest, hot and sudden, burning away the fear and replacing it with something fiercer.
“You fucking cunt,” it burst out of you before you could stop yourself, the words loud and harsh in the sudden silence.
Everyone in the chamber froze.
“How could you do this?” you shouted, your voice cracking, shaking with fury and fear and betrayal. “You selfish bitch! You dragged me, no, you kidnapped me into this situation, telling me nothing, leaving me alone here with Dracula over there, and for what? So you would have an easier time here? To use me as some kind of… of bargaining chip?”
“I…” Alice started, but you cut her off.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice rose higher, becoming almost a scream, tears streaming down your face now, hot and angry. “You ruined my life!”
The last words came out as a broken sob.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Alice had averted her gaze, staring at the floor, unable to meet your eyes.
Edward looked stricken, guilt written across his features.
And the raven haired king was watching you with undisguised fascination, that unsettling smile still on his face.
“Alina,” he said, interrupting the charged silence, his voice gentle and pleasant and completely wrong.
You looked at him, and something about that smile made your skin crawl. It was like a mask, you realized. Pretty and pleasant on the surface, but with nothing genuine behind it. Nothing warm or kind or human.
“I believe our dear Alina has had quite the journey here, haven’t you?” He tilted his head slightly, that smile never wavering. “Such strong emotions. Such fire.”
“Aro…” Edward tried to interrupt, his voice tight with tension.
But Aro held up one pale hand, silencing him without even looking at him.
“Alec,” he said, addressing the young man standing near Jane. “Why don’t you bring Alina to the gardens, hmm? Let’s deal with this… issue,” he gestured vaguely toward Edward and Bella, “first, before we properly introduce ourselves to miss Alina.”
How did he know your name? You hadn’t told him. Demetri must have…
No, wait. When Demetri touched his hand, something had happened. Aro had seen something, learned something.
He’d read Demetri’s mind.
Or memories.
Or whatever the hell that was.
Alec stepped forward, moving with that same liquid grace all the vampires had. He looked young, maybe eighteen, with hazel brown hair and features that would have been beautiful if his eyes weren’t that same unsettling crimson.
“Come,” he said simply, his voice soft and oddly gentle.
You didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
Demetri’s hand tightened on your arm, you’d almost forgotten he was still holding you, and he leaned down slightly, his lips near your ear.
“Go with him,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “I’ll come find you soon.”
The promise in those words made you shiver.
But you didn’t have a choice.
You never really had a choice.
Alec approached and gestured for you to follow him toward a door you hadn’t noticed before, set into the wall behind one of the columns.
You walked on numb legs, Demetri finally releasing your arm.
As you passed Alice, you couldn’t help yourself. You looked at her one more time.
She still wouldn’t meet your eyes.
And somehow, that hurt worse than anything else.
You walked slightly behind Alec, your steps hesitant and unsteady, your mind still reeling from everything that had just happened.
To your surprise, he seemed… gentle.
Almost kind, even. Not like the giant, Felix, with his predatory grin and hungry eyes. Not like Jane, with her cherubic face that somehow made her more terrifying, not less.
Alec didn’t try to talk to you. Didn’t fill the silence with meaningless pleasantries or threats. He simply walked, his pace measured and unhurried, as if he understood that you needed time. Space. Room to breathe.
You were grateful for it.
The tears came silently, hot tracks down your cheeks that you didn’t bother to wipe away. Your vision blurred, but you kept walking, kept following the pale figure ahead of you through the endless corridors.
And Alec said nothing.
Didn’t comment on the fact that you were crying. Didn’t mock you for your weakness. Didn’t play on your fear the way you suspected the others might have.
He just… walked.
After what seemed like a relatively short walk compared to the other endless corridors you’d been dragged through, you came to a stop in front of a large wooden door. It was old, the wood dark and weathered, carved with intricate patterns that reminded you of everything else in this place, ancient and beautiful and wrong.
Behind it was a gate, ornate metalwork that gleamed in the torchlight. Copper, you realized. Or maybe bronze. The metal was worked into elaborate swirling patterns, vines and flowers and shapes you couldn’t quite identify.
Alec pushed the gate open, and it swung silently on well oiled hinges.
And beyond…
Your breath caught.
It was one of the biggest gardens you had ever seen.
No, not a garden. A park.
That would be more fitting. The space was vast, impossibly vast for something underground, though you could see the sky above, dark with evening, stars beginning to appear.
Were you still underground? Had you come back to the surface?
You couldn’t tell anymore. Couldn’t orient yourself in this maze of stone and shadow.
Tall walls surrounded the space, sandy colored brick that looked ancient, weathered by time. Large trees grew at intervals, their branches spreading wide overhead. You recognized some, oak and cypress, but others were unfamiliar, their leaves strange shapes and their bark unusual textures.
Ponds dotted the landscape, their surfaces reflecting the darkening sky like mirrors. Statues stood at intervals along the paths, marble figures in classical poses, gods and goddesses and creatures from myth.
A spring bubbled somewhere nearby, the sound of running water peaceful and incongruous with the nightmare you were living.
Red stone paths curved through the space with mathematical precision, each turn and angle deliberate, designed. They wove between flower beds that even in the dim light were breathtaking.
Roses. So many roses. Red and white and pink and yellow, their blooms full and perfect despite the season. And other flowers too, varieties you recognized and many you didn’t. The scent was overwhelming, sweet and heady, filling your lungs with every breath.
It was beautiful.
Horrifyingly, impossibly beautiful.
You stood there, frozen, taking it all in. Your mind couldn’t quite process it. Couldn’t reconcile this peaceful, lovely space with the terror of the throne room, with Demetri’s cold hands and Aro’s unsettling smile.
You didn’t realize you’d stopped walking until you noticed Alec was several steps ahead, standing on the path, waiting.
Watching you with those red eyes that glowed faintly in the growing darkness.
You tried to remember the way you’d come. Left, then right, then left again? Or was it right, left, right? The corridors had all looked the same, endless stone and torchlight, and you’d been too upset to pay attention.
But would you get far even if you did remember? Probably not. They were vampires. They could move with impossible speed. You’d seen it. Felt it when Demetri had dragged you through the corridors.
Running would be pointless.
Still, your mind catalogued the information anyway, some survival instinct refusing to give up even when logic said it was hopeless.
Alec stood there, patient, not rushing you. After a long moment, you forced your feet to move, to catch up with him.
He led you deeper into the garden, following one of those red stone paths. It curved gently between flower beds and around trees, past statues that seemed to watch you with blank stone eyes.
You saw the pond before you reached it. It was larger than the others, its surface rippling slightly in the evening breeze. And on that surface…
Ducks
Actual ducks, paddling peacefully, occasionally dipping their heads under the water to search for food. Their soft quacking sounds filled the air, normal and mundane and completely surreal in this place.
Alec stopped beside a bench near the pond’s edge. It was made of the same red stone as the paths, worn smooth by time and weather. He gestured for you to sit, a graceful, courteous movement.
You sat, your legs grateful for the rest. They’d been shaking for so long you’d almost stopped noticing.
Alec moved to sit beside you, but he left distance between you. A respectful distance. More space than Demetri had given you, more than seemed necessary if he wanted to keep you from running.
For some reason, Alec seemed to be the only one who understood your fear. Who was trying, in his own way, to give you room. Space to breathe. The only one not actively trying to trigger your terror even more than it already was.
You looked at the ducks, watching them glide across the water’s surface, chatting to each other in their duck language. One dove under, and you watched the ripples spread outward in perfect circles.
“How old are you, Alina?”
Alec’s voice was soft, non threatening. A simple question.
You looked at him, studying his profile in the dim light. He looked young, barely older than you, with that same ageless quality all the vampires seemed to have. Beautiful and terrible and frozen in time.
“Sixteen,”
you mumbled quietly, your voice hoarse from crying.
His expression shifted slightly. Something that might have been surprise, or concern, or something else you couldn’t identify.
“That’s quite young.” He paused, then continued, “My sister and I are eighteen. I believe you met Jane before.”
So they were siblings. Twins, given how they were the same age.
You nodded, not sure what to say to that.
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… heavy. Weighted with everything unsaid, everything you didn’t understand.
“Alec…” you started, then hesitated.
He turned to look at you, giving you his full attention.
“Why were Alice and Edward so…” you searched for the right word, “afraid of Jane’s presence?”
A smile curved his lips. Not the gentle expression he’d worn before, but something else. Something with an edge to it. Almost sinister.
He chuckled, low and amused.
“Because of her gift.”
Gift.
You turned the word over in your mind. Was that what they called it? Was that like Aro, the way he’d read Demetri’s thoughts through touch? Like Alice, seeing the future?
“What do you mean by gift?” you asked.
He looked at you for a long moment, and you saw conflict flicker across his features. As if he were weighing something, deciding how much to tell you.
“I must say,” he said slowly, his tone taking on something almost bitter, “for someone as gentle and respectful of human life as the Cullens like to paint themselves, the vegetarians have really done you dirty.”
Vegetarians? What did that mean?
“I think,” he continued, “it would be better to have this conversation with Aro. He can explain things better than I can. More… thoroughly.”
But you latched onto the word he’d used. “Vegetarian? What do you mean by that?”
Alec was quiet for a moment, then said simply, “The Cullens don’t consume human blood. Instead, they feast off animals. We call them vegetarians because of that.”
The words hung in the air between you.
Human blood.
Animals.
And with that, you were reminded, viscerally and unavoidably, of what Alec was. What they all were.
Vampires.
Creatures that drank blood to survive.
The Cullens drank animal blood. These vampires, the ones with red eyes instead of gold, they drank…
You went silent, your mind reeling. How had you been conversing so casually with Alec, knowing what he was? What he did?
The ducks suddenly seemed very far away, their peaceful quacking distant and dreamlike.
“Do you think…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, “do you think Aro will hurt me? For my outburst?”
You’d called Alice a cunt. Had screamed at her in front of everyone. In front of the vampire kings.
Alec chuckled again, but this time it sounded almost… reassuring?
“No, Alina. I think Aro is also displeased with what the Cullens have done to you.” He paused, then added, “Although I would advise you to be courteous with Aro. Trust me when I say he doesn’t want to hurt you. It’s best if you trust him. He can make this whole thing as pleasant for you as possible.”
You nodded slowly, not asking any more questions. Your mind was too full, too overwhelmed to process anything else.
The silence returned, and you sat there watching the ducks, trying not to think about blood and hunting and the cold hands that had held you.
Alec suddenly turned his head, his posture changing slightly, becoming alert. As if he’d heard something you couldn’t.
“Well, Alina,” he said, standing gracefully, “it was lovely chatting with you. But I believe dinner is ready.” A pause, and something in his tone shifted. “Demetri should be here any second. Please excuse me.”
He took a step away, then stopped, looking back at you over his shoulder.
“And Alina… don’t try to run.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was almost… kind. A warning, maybe. A piece of advice.
And then he was gone.
Just… gone.
Vanished between one blink and the next, as if he’d never been there at all.
You stared at the spot where he’d stood, your mind struggling to understand. How was
that possible? Where did he go? Could he teleport?
The garden suddenly felt very empty. Very quiet.
And then you saw him.
In the corner of your vision, a figure appeared. Walking toward you along one of the red
stone paths, moving with that predatory grace you recognized.
Demetri.
Something in your chest pulled tight.
You wanted to run. Wanted to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms and cry into his chest and feel those cold hands hold you safe. The pull was overwhelming, undeniable, a physical ache that made your hands shake.
But you also wanted to run away. To flee, to escape, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and this creature who made you feel things you didn’t understand. Things that terrified you almost as much as he did.
The two desires warred in your chest, tearing you in opposite directions, leaving you frozen on the bench.
He came to a stop in front of you, looking down with those black eyes that seemed to
see straight through you.
“Come, love,” he said, his voice soft, almost gentle. The endearment rolled off his tongue like honey. “Aro would like to talk to you. To give you the explanation you deserve, and answer your questions.”
You stood up slowly, your legs unsteady, and took his offered hand.
His fingers closed around yours, cold and strong, and that pull in your chest eased slightly at the contact. As if touching him was what you’d needed all along.
Defeat washed over you like a wave.
You couldn’t fight this. Whatever this was, this bond or connection or curse, you
couldn’t fight it.
“Demetri…” you said as he began to lead you back toward the gate.
“Yes, amore mio?”. Another endearment, foreign and beautiful and terrifying.
“Please don’t walk so fast.” Your voice came out small, weak. “I think I feel a bit unwell.”
He slowed immediately, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, concerned. “Are you alright?”
But you weren’t alright.
The world was tilting strangely. The garden around you blurred at the edges, the colors bleeding together. Your legs felt distant, disconnected from your body.
To be continued…
Part 2⬇️
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · The Pull due · This is part two of The Pull series there will be more chapter’s comming. As always, English is not my first
Pairing: Caius Volturi x Reader
Summary: Caius' human mate has fallen ill.
The castle walls were as cold as the man you’d come to know as Caius, one of the Volturi kings. You hadn’t meant to end up here—dragged into the world of vampires because of a fateful connection you couldn’t quite understand. All you knew was that the man with the piercing eyes and cruel tongue was drawn to you, even as he fought to keep you at arm’s length. When you'd arrived at the castle, it wasn't for this reason at all. Your father, a well known influence in Italy, had been turned -- one dark night as sheets of rain fell.
After his turning, he went out of control, horrific blood thirst and confusion plaguing him and creating a monster. He'd turned your mother too, on accident. So, consequently, your entire household was summoned to the castle, forced to come before the Volturi kings. Of course, your parents were ended almost as soon as they were brought before Aro. They'd caused too much wreckage, too much confusion among Italy. After all, your family was a sort of royalty in Italy, just like the Volturi -- only you were human. There were whispers about the disappearance of your father and then about the disappearance of your family.
You were fated to be killed too. That was until Aro and Caius took a closer look at you. When you'd gathered the courage to meet the eyes of Caius Volturi in the throne room, his red predatory eyes, they were full of a mix of emotions.
Caius had looked at you as though you were an anomaly, something inexplicable and infuriating. For a moment, the throne room had fallen silent, the usual air of formality dissipating into something heavy and charged. You couldn’t breathe under the weight of his gaze, yet you couldn’t look away either.
Aro had been the first to break the silence. “Oh, how delightful,” he murmured, his tone light but laced with intrigue. He moved closer, his pale hand extending toward you. “There is something extraordinary about her, isn’t there, Caius?”
Caius’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Extraordinary or not,” he said coldly, “she’s human. Fragile. A liability.”
Aro’s grin widened as if Caius’s words only amused him. “Ah, but she’s also your mate, dear brother.”
The words sent a shockwave through the room, and you couldn’t quite comprehend their meaning. Mate? Your heart pounded in your chest, but it was nothing compared to the flicker of something—anger? Fear?—that passed over Caius’s otherwise impenetrable face.
“Impossible,” Caius said sharply, though his voice betrayed a crack of uncertainty. “She’s nothing.”
You flinched at the coldness of his tone, but Aro was quick to soothe. “Oh, Caius, you can’t fight fate,” he said, stepping back and gesturing toward you with a flourish. “She’s quite intriguing, isn’t she? Even Marcus agrees.”
Marcus, the quietest of the three, simply nodded, his ancient eyes watching you with something that felt like pity. “The bond is there,” he said softly. “Undeniable.”
Caius glared at Marcus, but his defiance faltered when he looked at you again. His crimson eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. Instead, he turned abruptly, his cloak billowing as he stormed out of the room without another word.
After that day, your life in the Volturi castle became a strange blend of luxury and imprisonment. You were given quarters that rivaled those of royalty, with silk sheets, fine clothes, and meals prepared to perfection. But the grandeur did little to ease the tension of your situation. You were watched constantly, your every move monitored by guards who reported directly to Caius.
He avoided you at first, his disdain for the situation evident in every clipped command he gave the others regarding your care. Yet, despite his coldness, he refused to let you leave the castle grounds. When Aro questioned this decision, Caius’s response was curt and final: “She’s too fragile.”
You overheard the whispers among the Volturi guard -- snippets of conversation about how Caius’s protective streak was unusual, even for a mate. “He won’t admit it,” Jane had said once, her cold voice laced with both amusement and curiosity, “but she’s already under his skin.”
The first time you saw Caius’s care for you in full force was during a confrontation with a visiting coven. One of their members -- a tall, arrogant vampire with a cruel smirk -- had made a passing comment about the “human pet” in the castle. The words hadn’t even fully left his mouth before Caius was upon him, his hand wrapped around the vampire’s throat.
“You will address her with respect,” Caius snarled, his voice like ice. “Or you won’t address her at all.“
The entire room had fallen silent, and even Aro seemed taken aback by the ferocity in Caius’s tone. The vampire stammered an apology, and Caius released him with a shove, turning to you with a glare.
“Stay out of my sight,” he ordered, his voice harsh. “If we find another issue with your coven, you will all be ended, including those with petulant disrespect on their tongues.“
Over time, Caius’s cold exterior began to show cracks. He would linger in the shadows, watching you when he thought you weren’t looking. He began to ask subtle questions about your past, your interests, your fears. At first, his inquiries felt like an interrogation, but gradually, you realized he was trying to understand you.
One evening, as you sat in the castle’s vast library, he appeared without warning. “Why do you always sit here?” he asked, his tone less sharp than usual.
You looked up from the book in your lap, startled. “It’s quiet,” you said simply. “And the view of the gardens is beautiful.”
He said nothing, his gaze drifting to the window. After a moment, he sat in the chair across from you, his presence both unsettling and strangely comforting. “Beauty is fleeting,” he said, almost to himself. “But you… you endure.”
The words hung in the air, and you didn’t know how to respond. Before you could find your voice, he stood and left, his cloak swishing behind him.
As time passed, his moments of softness got more frequent, but always shocking to you. Though you spent most of your time alone, more and more often you found that Caius would join you in a room, sitting across it and speaking to you softly. It was almost like he didn't dare to touch you, in fear that you'd break.
For the past three days, you hadn't seen him. He was engrossed in a lengthy trial, one of the betrayal of a coven that was close in affairs to the Volturi. It was complicated and required much contemplation by the Kings and the Guard -- so you didn't think too poorly of Caius for not finding time to see you. You didn't ever expect anything from Caius. He was in a dominant position over you and came and went as he wished. But, luck would have it, you'd fallen extremely ill the first night you hadn't seen him for dinner.
The human secretary, Janine, that was tasked with checking on you when Caius was busy wasn't the most.. intelligent.. caretaker. In fact, in your sick delirium, you'd had only one accurate thought. If Caius caught wind of how she'd been caring for you, she'd be swiftly killed. After all, she hadn't even informed Caius of your illness.
The cool, marble walls of your quarters seemed to trap the heat radiating from your fever-ridden body, amplifying your misery. You lay in bed, tangled in damp sheets that stuck to your skin, every muscle in your body aching as though you had been trampled. The room blurred and swam before your eyes, but even through the fog of your illness, you registered the sound of the door creaking open.
Janine strolled in, carrying a water pitcher and a single glass with a dismissive air. She placed them carelessly on the table beside your bed, the loud clink making you wince. “Here,” she said flatly. “Drink some water. That’s all you need.”
You blinked sluggishly at her, the effort it took to keep your eyes open making your head throb worse. The room tilted for a moment before settling, but the indifference in her tone didn’t escape you. Her presence, the lack of care in her movements, and the words themselves grated against your already fragile state. You'd known Janine was full of jealousy -- jealous of your position. You were given almost anything you wanted, though you didn't request much, but.. You were to be the wife of one of the Kings eventually. It was enough to make her distaste for you grow with every second.
You felt like death was going to come over you if you didn't at least receive something for your pain, though. You knew you needed to speak up.
"Janine. I need something stronger."
She sighed loudly, as though your request were an inconvenience rather than a genuine cry for help. “You’re just feverish,” she said dismissively, straightening her posture as if to emphasize her superiority in the moment. “Drink the water and rest. You’ll get over it.”
Her lack of empathy left you stunned. The world swirled around you, the fever clouding your ability to argue or even react properly. You managed a faint whisper, one you weren’t sure she even heard. “If Caius knew…”
She froze for the briefest of moments before her lip curled into a smirk. “Caius isn’t here, is he? He has far more important matters to attend to than a sick little human. Just be grateful he even allows you to stay here.”
The tone in her voice felt like a slap, but you lacked the energy to do more than close your eyes and turn your face away. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, exhaustion overcoming you. If you were less weak, you would have slapped her. But you couldn't even will yourself to get out of bed.
As Janine turned to leave, the door slammed open with such force that it rattled on its hinges. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, the air growing heavier as an unmistakable presence filled the space.
It was a positive for you for the first time in the months you'd been at the castle. You knew who it was, of course. Caius's entrance into a room was always felt by everybody in it. Usually, it made you slightly anxious and a bit more self-conscious, but now, relief washed over you in waves.
“Janine.” Caius’s voice was low, cold, and lethally calm, each syllable a knife’s edge. It still held its usual venom, though. Enough to make you sting for hours after hearing it.
The blood drained from Janine’s face as she spun around, her smirk vanishing instantly. “My lord,” she stammered, attempting a clumsy curtsy. “I was just--”
“You were neglecting your duties,” Caius interrupted, stepping into the room with deliberate, measured strides. His crimson eyes flicked to you, narrowing at your pale, fever-flushed face and trembling frame. “What. Has. Happened?”
Janine opened her mouth to respond, but her voice faltered under his glare. “She’s… unwell,” she finally managed. “I brought her water--”
Caius’s lips curled into a snarl, cutting her off. “You call this care? Leaving her to suffer, unattended, as though she is some insignificant pest?”
“My lord, I--”
“Enough.” The word was sharp and final, and the weight of his authority silenced her completely. His focus shifted entirely to you as he crossed the room in two swift steps.
He sat beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight, and his icy hand brushed against your burning forehead. You flinched slightly at the stark contrast, but the relief was instant. His expression hardened further as he assessed your condition.
“Why did you not call for me?” he asked, his voice gentler now but still tinged with frustration.
You swallowed hard, the effort painful. “Didn't.. want to bother you,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the last word. “Janine was here to check on me, and I thought your trial needed more of your attention than I did.”
Caius’s crimson eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He stayed silent for a moment, as though trying to process your words, before leaning forward slightly, his gaze boring into yours. His hand, still cool against your fevered skin, shifted slightly, his thumb brushing over your temple with a gentleness you hadn’t thought him capable of.
“You thought wrong,” he said, his voice low but resolute, the frustration in his tone undercut by a strange softness. “Nothing -- no one -- is more deserving of my attention than you, especially in such a state.”
You blinked up at him, surprised by both the intensity and the tenderness in his words. Caius was not one to admit weakness or vulnerability, yet here he was, clearly affected by your condition.
“You… have responsibilities,” you murmured weakly, though it was hard to hold his gaze with the weight of his emotion bearing down on you.
“And you are one of them,” he interrupted sharply, though not unkindly. “Do not mistake my obligations for distractions. Your well-being is of paramount importance to me. More so than you seem to realize.”
The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, though whether from the remnants of the fever or the weight of his words, you couldn’t tell. Before you could muster a response, Caius glanced toward the door, his expression hardening.
“I trusted Janine to care for you, and for that, I hold her failure in the highest contempt,” he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. “Her negligence is inexcusable, and she will not escape retribution.”
“Caius” you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t… hurt her. She didn’t mean--”
“She failed you,” Caius cut in, his tone steely, though his gaze softened when it returned to your face. “And for that, there will be consequences. But that is no longer your concern.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, realizing there was no use arguing. Caius’s mind was set, as it always was when matters of justice -- or vengeance -- were involved.
He seemed to sense your unease, his expression softening further as he leaned closer, his other hand coming to rest lightly on the bed beside you. “You are too kind, even to those who do not deserve it,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. “But I will not allow kindness to become a vulnerability that others exploit. Not while you are under my care.”
Your eyes fluttered closed, the effort of staying awake and coherent starting to take its toll. Yet you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his words, as harsh as they might have seemed. For all his coldness and cruelty to others, there was something fiercely protective in the way Caius regarded you -- something that made you feel safe, even now.
"Caius?" You gained the courage to ask quietly, willing yourself to open your eyes again. You studied his beautiful, porcelain face, his white blonde hair. His pale pink lips. "Um.. Does it bother you? Me being human?"
Caius stilled at your question, his sharp features momentarily unreadable. His crimson eyes, softened only slightly by the flickering candlelight, locked with yours. For a moment, you worried you had overstepped, that your curiosity had breached some unspoken boundary.
But then he leaned back slightly, his expression shifting into something contemplative. “Bother me?” he echoed, his voice calm, though his words carried a weight that made your heart quicken. “Your humanity is… an inconvenience at times, yes. But that is not the same as being a bother.”
You blinked, unsure how to interpret his words. “What do you mean?”
Caius’s gaze flicked away briefly, a rare hesitation crossing his face before he returned his attention to you. “It is not your fault that you are fragile,” he began, his tone measured as though choosing his words with care. “Fragility is inherent to your kind. It is… difficult, at times, to reconcile your mortality with the attachment I find myself unwillingly forming.”
Your breath caught at his admission, and you weren’t sure if it was the fever or the weight of his words making your head spin. “Attachment?”
Caius’s jaw tightened briefly, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly, though not in anger. “Do not make me repeat myself,” he said, though his words lacked their usual bite. “You are... significant to me in ways I have yet to fully understand. But your humanity complicates matters.”
He leaned forward again, his cold hand brushing against your cheek with a surprising gentleness. “You are weak, delicate, mortal,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And yet, despite every reason I should have to resent your presence, I find myself... drawn to you. It defies logic.”
His words left you stunned, a warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with your fever. You searched his face, looking for any sign that he might be mocking you, but there was none. Caius was earnest, his piercing gaze unwavering as he awaited your response.
“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice catching you by surprise. “I don’t want my humanity to be… a weakness.”
Caius’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression softening in a way that was almost imperceptible. “Your humanity is not a weakness, unlike most humans,” he said firmly. “If anything, it is a testament to your resilience. You endure pain, illness, and fear, yet you continue to fight. That is not weakness -- it is strength.”
The intensity of his words left you speechless, your throat tightening as you fought back the surge of emotion they stirred. Caius’s hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he withdrew, his gaze flicking briefly to the water pitcher on the table.
“You should drink,” he said, his tone softening further. “You need your strength to recover.”
You nodded faintly, your body too weak to do much else. As Caius poured the water with a grace that seemed almost surreal, you couldn’t help but marvel at the strange contradiction that he was -- a cold and unyielding king who had somehow become your most unlikely protector.
When he handed you the glass, his fingers brushing yours briefly, you whispered, “Thank you, Caius.”
For a moment, something in his expression shifted—an almost imperceptible crack in his icy exterior. “Rest,” he said, his voice carrying a softness that was as shocking as it was comforting. “You are safe here. I will see to that.”
As you drank the cool water and settled back into the pillows, the warmth of his presence lingered, chasing away the chill that had settled in your bones. Despite his protests and denials, Caius was proving to be more than the fearsome king you had once thought him to be. He was something far more complex -- and far more human.
You eventually fell asleep, stirring only when you got too warm or too cold. Although not awake, you could feel Caius's presence. If he sensed that you were too hot, he laid a gentle hand on your forehead, cooling you down. If he felt you shiver, he lifted the blankets closer to you, tucking you in further to spread their warmth across your body. You almost thought you could hear his voice, just before you fell into an uninterrupted, finally comfortable sleep.
“Such beauty. Such compassion. A gift for a king that deserved much less than you,” He murmured, almost inaudibly. He seemed to be speaking to himself, not you. His voice was like a prayer that lingered in the silence of the room. “You don’t belong in this world of darkness, Y/n. You are light, fragile and fleeting, burning brighter than I deserve. But still, here you are. A puzzle I cannot solve… and yet I do not wish to.”
The warmth of his words settled over you like a protective veil, and you couldn’t help but sigh in your sleep, comforted by the quiet intensity of his presence. There was something deeply private in what he had said, something he hadn’t intended for you to hear. But it didn’t matter. In that moment, despite everything -- the coldness, the darkness, the endless uncertainty -- you felt something unexplainable stir within you.
For the first time since your arrival in the Volturi’s lair, you allowed yourself to believe in the possibility that you might not be alone here, after all.
