Part Two, Chapter Seven: Day One (Demi POV #7)

P2, Ch,7: Day One (Demi7)

Warning: Depictions of rape.

Demi can taste dampness in the air surrounding her. When she opens her eyes, she can see the moisture, along with so much more, swirling in the currents, dancing before her gaze. She doesn't stare at it for longer than a millisecond, yet she memorizes the intricate pattern, finding herself capable of predicting how the direction of the tiny condensation droplets will change. She forces herself to look beyond the molecules around her, to focus in on the bigger picture.

It's dark where she is, so much different than where she was last. She can still picture the sun, its light dimmed by the tinted windows of the Great Hall ceiling, floating high above her as the fire—she flinches—consumed her. The memory is hazy, the outline of the sun blurry. Not like how her vision is now: clear and sharp. She can count the cracks in the stones surrounding her.

She smells, more so than hears, the presence of others. The most prominent scent is of leather and berries, with a hint of iron burning her nose. Demi recognizes it immediately, even though it is far more complex than she originally thought. It smells good. He smells good. She can't see him though, not with her head angled up toward the ceiling.

She parts her lips, many more scents surging in, overwhelming her. There are more people in the room with her, but she doesn't know if the number is closer to ten or one hundred. Some traces of scent are almost non-existent, old and decaying, while dozens of others are fresh and pushing against her skin.

It's quiet in the room, but that doesn't mean there is no noise. There is so much noise, muffled only enough to let Demi know it comes from outside the stone walls, but not enough to damage her comprehension. Wherever she is, there are others nearby. She can hear the strange sound of air passing through unresponsive lungs and the sound of bodies moving—some very slowly—through space.

But inside her room, there is no such frivolous sound. Not the sound of her heartbeat, which of course, now no longer exists, nor the sound of breathing, which she doesn't need to survive anymore. But there is presence. The presence of others, and although she cannot hear or see them, she can smell and feel them, and they take up the room.

She sits up, marveling at the way the air washes against her skin. There's no draft down here, yet her skin is sensitive enough to feel the small wind brush past her. Her clothing shifts and she is aware of all the little creases that disappear with her movement and the new wrinkles that appear in different locations. She also recognizes that these clothes are not the jeans and t-shirt that she had on before. Before she was a vampire. These are her after clothes, and she's wearing a long, beautiful dress. Black; like she's in mourning. Maybe she is.

She finally sees him, standing by the wall across from her. He is wearing his cloak. Her throat burns as she smells a weakened scent still clinging to the fabric. She recognizes it as her own. Her before scent. Her human scent. But that thinking is in the back of her mind. In the forefront of her thoughts is him. His face is handsome but devoid of emotion. His jawline, hard and delicious. His eyes, red and intense. And finally, a trace memory: the feeling of his hands on her neck, holding her down as he pushes into her.

Fear. A more intense fear then she had ever felt before. It sits in her stomach and climbs up her esophagus. Demi's lip curls at the sight of him. There's a purr building in her chest—no, not a purr: a growl.

But it never fully reaches her throat. She drags her eyes away from her husband, glancing around the room. Aro, his pink lips stretched tightly across his teeth. Caius studies her with an air of distrust. Not the Wives. But Felix is here. Her eyes linger on him, trailing down his body. She remembers him clutching the young girl, pawing her. This time, the growl does make its way out. Felix responds with a wink. There are three more in the small stone cell: Jane, Renata, and Santiago.

"Demi." Her name on his lips. His voice brings back memories of broken bones and darkness. She turns her head to face him again. She knows she snaps it towards him quickly, but the image of the room moves past her in perfect clarity. The fear is lessening some, but it will never be fully gone; how will he punish her next? Who will be killed in the process?

"Do you remember?" He asks her.

Her brow furrows. She remembers everything. Is it common for newborns to experience memory loss? Her hands curl into fists. Demi can remember the weight of the blade's handle as she surged it into her mother's chest. The picture of blood, her mother's blood, flowing out from the wound adds fire to the back of her throat.

"Yes," she responds and then jerks at the sound of her voice. It's different. Foreign. It barely sounds like how it was before. Marcus' eyes widen just the smallest amount. If Demi were still human, she would not have been able to notice the change.

"Are you thirsty?"

Thirsty. The itch in her throat is thirst. The word had been escaping her.

She nods her head. Thirsty. Just thinking the word makes the fire flare up again. Or maybe that's because she's sensing something coming down the hall, outside the cell. Three sets of footsteps and one heartbeat. She turns her attention from Marcus and toward the door. The heartbeat is like a siren's call, drawing her in, tempting her. Underneath its pulse, she can hear the current of blood, being pushed and pulled through the veins. From the hint of musk she gathers, she knows the human is male.

"Would you like to drink?" Shivers run up Demi's spine from his voice. She had hoped those reactions would become obsolete once she became a vampire, but it appears not.

"Yes," the word is hissed through clenched teeth. With every passing moment, the hunger in her grows.

The door is opened from the outside, and the scent hits her like a drug. It is no perfume she recognizes, nothing tangible and nameable. It smells like no food she's ever come across. It doesn't even smell like food. But it does smell good. Enticing, warm, welcoming. She knows that a taste of it will smooth the flames in her throat. The flames that remind her of the hell she just barely escaped from.

The scent is the only thing she can identify about the man. It is the only thing that matters to her.

There is a sound: her name is yelled—probably from one of the brothers. But it is too late, she is already attacking. Her teeth latch onto skin, her hands push back against fragile flesh and bone. She and the man land hard against the floor, her above him, his legs trapped between hers as she pulls greedily from his neck.

Demi knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she's drinking blood. That this man is a human being. That she's killing him. She should stop. If she continues, she'll become one of them. She'll be a monster. But he tastes so delicious. Nothing has ever relieved her, nothing has ever satisfied quite like this man's blood.

Frustratingly, the chalice she drinks from is not endless. Eventually, her salvation dries up. She slurps, pulling at the man's skin, licking at the dried blood around his throat. While she was drinking, she thought this man's blood was easing the burn. Now, it feels like she'll never be satisfied.

She turns away from the man's corpse, her mind on blood. "More!" She demands, looking to Marcus. He has a strange look on his face. She is too wild to take the time to decipher it. With a cry, she realizes she can hear more heartbeats outside of the cell door. She tenses from her crouched position on the floor, ready to spring forward and crash the door open, but several pair of hands grab her. Shoulder, shoulder, hair, waist.

Demi snarls, bucking in the holds. She screams in anger as she's dragged further away from the door. The hands are experienced; as much as she pulls, as much as she whips her head and tries to bite, she can't escape. The door opens and Demi's jaw clenches as she smells the blood. Her vision is not hazy—it would be impossible for it to be, with her vampire senses—but she can't see the human's face. All she knows is the blood and the heart pumping it right below the thin skin. The door behind the bloodbag is closed, and then the hands release her.

An older vampire would have immediately turned on the those that had just held them back, but a newborn's instinct for blood is stronger than their self-preservation. So Demi lunges forward at the human, her teeth slicing the veins before the body falls back against the metal door. The door creaks and a dent forms when the human's back slams into it at a deadly force. The heart stops almost instantly, but Demi doesn't allow that to distract her from the pure bliss flowing into her mouth.

When she's done with this one, the hands come back to pull her away from the door and the process starts again. After sucking down the fourth human, Demi falls back to the floor, sitting on the stone and breathing deeply. She's not tired, nor out of breath, but she finds that she likes the feeling of air moving through her lungs. Outside the door, there are no more heartbeats, just the sound of vampires—Guard members—standing around, waiting in case their masters need extra help.

The fire in Demi's throat is eased, but her tongue flicks against her chin, where some dried blood irritates her skin. Next, she sucks on her fingers, her teeth scraping against the underside of her nails, pulling out the dead skin and small droplets of blood.

She can feel the eyes of the others on her back, but they are quiet. Eventually, Demi drops her hands away from her mouth and her eyes focus on the bodies. All four of her victims are male, she realizes as she takes in their features. All of their necks are torn out, macabre and horrific. Flesh hangs off of their throats, skin dangling centimeters from the ground. Demi plays with the idea of leaning over and licking the blood around the men's wounds, but she finds no real urge or hunger to do so. Her appetite has been fulfilled and dead blood does not call to her the same way fresh blood does.

But it is while she studies the men that she notices something. It starts simply as an uncomfortableness in her stomach, a tightening of muscles. (Demi's new vampire mind, capable of processing many things at once, wonders if her stomach can actually tighten anymore, if the tissue there is alive, or if the fire that destroyed and created her also burned her stomach into dust.) The feeling then moves up her spine, and something sits at the back of her skull.

Something. What is it? Something bad. Demi's eyes focus on the faces of the bodies, as a haunting thought comes to the center of her attention. What did they do with my father? Before, when Demi was human, she had a mother and a father. They made her kill her mother. But she should still have a father. What did they do with him?

Demi finds her answer on the stone floor. The man's lower body is obscured by one of the other corpses, but her first victim's face is easy to see. His eyes stare unfocused at the ceiling, his lips parted like he still has something to say. Demi recalls her name being yelled by a familiar voice. Her father had recognized her as she attacked him.

Demi flinches violently, scooting backward, away from the body. Away from the truth. No. She did not do that. She could not have done that. Not to her father. Not to someone she loved. Like the cruel, inevitable crash of the waves against the beach shore, horror washes over Demi. Her eyes go from her father to the bodies mutilated around him. She murdered these men. She did not even think to stop. They had something she wanted—needed?—and she killed them to have it.

Demi lets out a cry. Monster. That is what she calls Marcus and his brothers. Monster! That is what she is now. Monster, monster, monster. The word taunts her.

She snaps her head around to find Marcus, her lips curling back at the sight of him. He is still staring at her, his red eyes (his right one framed with 277 eyelashes, his left one: 293) watching her movements. They lock gazes and then Demi attacks.

She leaps off the floor, uncurling her body so that it's stretched out fully in the air. Her arms extend, her fingers flexing towards Marcus. She's going to squeeze his pathetic neck and bite into his handsome face. Her brain takes a quick moment, while flinging toward him, to notice how little she has to think about her movements before her body completes them. She opens her mouth, aiming for his lower jaw, and she is inches away from him when she's tackled from the side.

She's slammed into the stone wall by a large force. Immediately, she knows it's Felix. Fine. She was aiming for Marcus, but if Felix wants to die first, she'll adjust her plan. The contact with the wall does not stop her attack. The pressure, the full weight of Felix's body pinning her to the stone, his hands trapping her wrists (still so small, still so fragile), is what prevents her from bucking him off and killing him. She lets out a shriek so loud and shrill no human could have ever made it.

NOT FAIR!

She is a vampire now. She knows this because her mind is moving a million miles a second and she can identify dozens of scents festering on the wall she's pressed against. Newborns are strong. Demi cannot remember how she knows this, but she knows it. She believes it. A vampire is never stronger than in their first year of new life. Demi should be able to move out from under Felix. She should be able to elbow him and rip his head off. But she can't move.

The weight of him reminds her of the weight of Marcus. She can feel Felix's groin against her lower back; Marcus had also sandwiched her against unrelenting rock as he raped her.

"Get off me!" She yells. (Is that really what my voice sounds like?) Gone is her motivation to attack Marcus; all she wants now is to get away from Felix. Or is it Marcus who is on top of her, demanding she spit into his hand for lubrication? "Stop! Marcus, please, stop!"

Marcus—wait, no, Felix—lifts his weight from her, but forces her hands behind her back. He swings her away from the wall and then she's facing the brothers again.

She pants hard but doesn't fight Felix's hold.

Aro stops forward, Renata clinging to him close behind, a protective hand resting on his shoulder blade. "You're going to obey now, aren't you, my dear?"

Demi's arm strain from the position behind her back. She glances at Marcus, disapproving and watchful. She thinks about the three mutilated bodies and the knife in her mother's chest (her memory is hazy and thinking about the blood makes her mouth water). Finally, she thinks about her father, on the floor not five feet behind her. The consequences of her disobedience.

Demi sags in Felix's hold and a smile stretches across Aro's face. "Wonderful." He waves his hand, and Felix lets go of her arms and steps back.

Demi slowly shifts her arms to hang loosely at her side. She thinks about Sandrine and how her body hung loosely after Felix raped her.

"Sated now, child?" Demi nods her head, not meeting his eye. Not meeting anyone's eye. There's a pause. "Yes, my Lord," Aro corrects, prompting her.

Demi glances at her father's body. "Yes, my Lord," she parrots back.

"You look gorgeous, sweet sister," Aro coos as he holds out his hand to her, the tips of his fingers making their way into Demi's periphery. When she does not immediately take it, he tsks. She steps forward and places her hand on top of his open palm. She marvels at the texture, but almost instantly, Aro's lips thin and his eyes narrow.

It puts her on alert. She's aware of Felix, still close behind her, and Jane too, across the room. She's displeased him somehow. And if he is angry enough to punish her, she needs to be prepared. He studies her face in silence for a few moments.

"Marcus, what do you see?" He inquires, his tone light as he drops her hand. Marcus' name, spoken out loud, sends a jolt of energy through Demi's body. He steps forward and Demi's eyes instantly go to him.

Mother of God. His eyes consume her. She survived the fire of the change, but she is not sure if she can survive his stare.

Marcus squints his eyes and shifts his gaze to the space around her body. After a moment of concentration, his jaw twitches. "Nothing," he responds to Aro. "She gives me nothing."

If only that were true.

"Yes," Aro confirms. "Her mind is beyond my touch. How interesting." His tone suggests he thinks this development is something beyond just interesting. She snaps her head back to look at Aro. What did he just say?

"Another shield?" Caius balks. Demi's eyes flicker between the brothers.

"No, this is something else. Different than Isabella. Marcus, may I have your permission to test something?" Marcus glances at Aro and their look speaks volumes. In the exchange, permission must have been granted, because then Aro says, "Jane."

Venom floods Demi's mouth. She feels herself wanting to flee. She even pivots her body, preparing to take off for safety.

But Jane is fast, and she obeys her Master before Demi can make much of an escape attempt. Jane's gaze is on her practically before Aro finishes saying her name.

Nonetheless, in the next instance, Demi is across the room, out of direct sight of Jane. Somehow, she got away just in time. But there is Jane turning her head, her eyes seconds away from lighting Demi on fire. Again.

There's nowhere else to go, nowhere else to hide in the small cell. Felix blocks her only exit. The brothers and Santiago and Jane take up the rest of her space. She's trapped. She tenses for the onslaught of pain and closes her eyes.

Three seconds of silence pass before Demi opens her eyes. When she finds Jane's red ones staring back at her, she's confused. Is this a form of mental torture by Aro? She'd rather have the quick hit of pain than stand here in anticipation.

Demi quickly realizes, however, that no, this isn't part of the plan. Jane keeps widening and then narrowing her eyes, almost as if...her gift isn't working. And Demi just knows that's the case because if Jane could give her the pain, she would.

"Hmm. Enough, Jane," Aro commands quietly. With one last glare shot Demi's way, Jane turns away from her. Aro scrutinizes her. Without warning, his hand reaches out to grab Caius' next to him. Aro keeps his face blank but tilts his head. Thinks for a moment.

"Come here, dear." She does. When she's in arms reach, he reaches out his other hand to grab Demi's shoulder. She tenses, waiting for him to pull her or push her or crush the bones there in retaliation. But he simply rests his palm against her and turns his attention back to where him and Caius touch.

More moments of waiting. Demi finds herself unable to not glance at Marcus during this time. And again she is blown away by how she can hold both unquantifiable rage and undeniable lust for such a man. Hell, her attraction to him is more so now, after he did the worst things he could ever do to her, than when she was human. Her senses are heightened, maybe her libido is too. That thought scares her. He almost made her come when he held her down and forced her. Would she be able to stop herself now, if (when?) he was to demand sex from her again?

Aro finally lifts his hand from her shoulder.

"It appears she will not follow in all of Didyme's footsteps," Aro declares. Demi takes a small step back from him, but her heel brushes against the forearm of one of the men she murdered and it halts any further retreat.

"Speak plainly, brother," Caius demands.

"She is gifted. It would seem she renders others powerless."

Me? He's talking about me? I'm not even doing anything!

The brothers' eyes bore into her. She cannot tell if they are pleased. Aro almost looks it; there's a gleam in his eye. Caius looks disappointed, as if something was taken from him. And Marcus—while Marcus is looking at her, she can tell his mind is elsewhere and whatever memories or possibilities cloud his thoughts do not make him happy.

"We will discuss this later," he snaps, stepping forward in between her and the others. "My wife has been down here for long enough. I will see her cleaned."

There is no question in his tone. Aro has no option but to bow his head in acknowledgment.

"Do not forget, Marcus, she is a newborn. Santiago will accompany you." This too is an edict and just as Aro had no choice but to accept Marcus' words, so too must Marcus agree with Aro.

"Of course, brother." Now, he turns to her.

Demi cowers before her husband. True, mere minutes ago she was ready to kill him. But that was before the despair hit. She must admit: he is quite good at orchestrating a punishment. A true sadistic bastard.

He reaches out to grab her. For the first time in her life, Demi is fast enough to step away from him in time. She's not fast enough, however, to avoid his palm as he strikes out and hits her full across the cheek. She stumbles back, her own hand coming up to rub her jaw. A hiss escapes her lips as she meets his eye. He growls back.

"I am done playing games with you," he tells her sternly. This time she does not run when he grabs her arm. He pulls her closer. She can't help inhaling his scent, although she does manage to suppress her moan. "You will obey me, Demi," he demands before marching her out of the room.

And she does obey him, partially because of the harsh slap and partially because her father's body is still on the floor behind her.

She was right: more of the Guard stand waiting outside. Third and fourth tiers bow their heads as Marcus walks her down the hall. Santiago is the only one from the room that immediately follows them and he is never more than a foot or two behind.

Demi comes to realize that they must be on the dungeon floor. To either side of them are metal doors, much like the one that kept her from the humans. And in them, vampires. But not strong ones. She can tell by their smell; nothing like the vibrant richness of Marcus' or even Santiago's. She has questions, not just about the vampires imprisoned behind the doors, but about everything. She keeps her mouth shut though, wary of incurring Marcus wrath. What (or worse: who) else could he take from her if she wasn't careful?

So she's silent as they board the elevator. She can't help the whimper that escapes her lips when she smells the faint scent of more humans. And there, still strong, she can make out the scent of her late father. Whom she killed. But she's silent as the elevator doors open to the brothers' suites and the marble floor. She silent as he guides her into his wing, Santiago still following. In his hall, she can smell her human self. She's silent as Marcus pulls the straps of her dress down, baring her breasts to him and the cold air of his bedroom. Santiago stands nearby in the corner, his face giving nothing away.

Finally, when Marcus has stripped her completely, she speaks.

"Must he be here?" She asks quietly.

Marcus does not pause his slow circle around her. "Yes," is all he says. And neither speak again. Not as he strips his own clothes and pumps his erection. Not as he pushes her onto the bed and climbs on after her. She does not fight nor protest when he nudges her legs wider and settles in between her thighs. She grips his forearms but does not push him away as he fucks her. (She notes with disinterest that Marcus' body is no longer cold to her. In fact, she can feel her own body warm from his close proximity.)

She focuses on the ceiling over his right shoulder, trying to will herself out of the situation. But she can't. Eventually, his fingers find her clitoris and force her to acknowledge the pleasure building in her gut.

She finally makes sounds: gasps, small moans, grunts as his speed picks up. And she cannot stop herself from urging him on. "Yessss…" she pants into his ear. She begs him to continue, unable to fight the basic instinct.

They couple for hours. In that time, Demi is sometimes cooperative and sometimes not. After her first few orgasms, some of her senses return and she tries to push Marcus off of her. She gets a certain thrill when she finds herself succeeding.

When she was human, her shoves did nothing to move him. But now, she can feel his skin giving into her demands. She knocks him off balance a few times and is able to gain enough leverage to sit up on the bed.

But then she is reminded of Santiago's presence; he steps forward from his corner and helps restrain her down. He pins her hands down above her head and Marcus settles his weight over her. Her bucking does nothing but excites him more. Through the entire ordeal, he never even slips out of her.

She fights the rape for a long time. While their hold is strong enough to keep her subdued, she does not find herself getting tired. Not really. Still, eventually, she stops trying to escape. Santiago releases her and Marcus' fingers are so skilled that Demi can't help but throw her arms around him as he takes more pleasure from her.

It is shortly after this that her mind begins to wander. She wishes that her thoughts turn to her parents, but instead, she finds she can think of nothing but blood. Even as Marcus continues to defile her, resentment is burned away by the fire in her throat. No longer does she groan because of his unrelenting pace, but because the thirst grows stronger.

She doesn't know how much time has passed, but surely not more than half a day. Yet she is ready to kill again. Not only ready but excited.

"Marcus," she calls him, her voice devoid of the passion from earlier. This must be what finally catches his attention because he pauses for the first time since his last orgasm. His eyes are a strange color. She can tell that he has fed recently, yet there is a darkness to them. She wonders if lust hunger clouds them the same way blood hunger does. If so, she imagines her own irises are darkening quickly.

"I want," she manages to get out before stopping. To admit her desire for blood out loud is not something she can do quite yet. Still, even she can hear the desperation in her voice. And Marcus clearly has no problem understanding her.

He laughs and the sound is enough to plunge Demi into shame. She tilts her lips away as he leans in for a kiss, and he chuckles again before settling for a peck on her neck. The proximity of his teeth to such a vulnerable part of her causes her body to tense and her eyes to flicker to the bedroom door. Her escape.

But he moves away from her quickly and finally—finally!—pulls out of her. He stands up, and she looks anywhere but at his semi. This seems to amuse him further, as he laughs again. She sits up on the edge of the bed, pulling her legs closed and folding her shoulders in. As if either will protect her.

Marcus strolls across the room, unbothered by Santiago's gaze. He drops himself on the available seating, and Demi can't help but stare at his body. Her new eyes give her a deep appreciation of every hard line and edge. He exudes pure masculine energy. Like a moth to the flame, she cannot help but admire.

"Corin," Marcus calls for softly. In a second, another one of the Wives' guards stands in the room. She does not spare a glance for her mistress, but still, Demi folds herself inward on instinct.

"Yes, Master." Corin awaits instructions.

"See if you can't find my wife another meal. Only two this time," he tells her.

"Yes, Master," she says again before disappearing.

Demi wants to protest. For a fleeting minute, she thinks about the Cullens. They drink from animals. Perhaps she could ask for a similar arrangement. But the burning in her throat is steadily growing in heat and all she can remember is the sweet relief her father and the others brought her. There is a part of her that wants to protest not because he is bringing her humans to slaughter, but because he is only allowing her two. She had four last time and still wanted more.

In the end, Demi does not address either issue. "May I dress?" She asks demurely. Submissively.

Marcus studies her, his eyes flickering from her breast to his drying seed on the inside of her thighs. At least Demi can be thankful for not having to worry about getting pregnant. She cannot imagine a worse thing than having Marcus' heir grow inside of her.

He nods his head toward her discarded dress on the floor. "No use in bloodying another one." She stands from the bed, turning her back towards Santiago and protecting the illusion of her modesty. As she bends at the knees to pick up the dress, Marcus warns her. "Be careful," he says. "You're likely to rip it apart and I will not care what becomes exposed."

Demi straightens and considers her options. She can feel the strength in her bones, even if the last few hours have done little to allow her to use it. She does not doubt that he would force her to feed with her breasts bare and her ass on display if that was how the dress tore. Without looking at him, she swallows her pride.

"Will you help me?"

She hears him get up. Hears his feet hit the stone floor. She can even feel the slight vibration, despite how softly he steps, against her own soles.

"Of course." She sees his pale forearm reaching for the dress. She feels his touch as he steps closer to her, her back pressed against his chest. Both hands move in front of her as he gathers the soft material. "Lift your arms." His breath tickles her neck. Moisture gathers again at the apex of her thigh. He does not comment on it, although she knows he can smell it. He hardens more. She does not comment on that either, although she knows he presses against her so that she has no choice but to feel him.

She does as she is told, like a good wife. Her arms lift and he drops the dress over her head. It drapes beautifully against her curves. Marcus' fingers brush against her back as he ties the small bow that keeps the dress together. He does it with such efficient ease and Demi is certain that if she had tried herself, the dress probably would have ripped apart.

He finishes just in time. Demi hears the heartbeats right before the elevator doors slide open. And the scent hits her. She's off before Marcus can pull her back. She hears her husband and Santiago race down the hall, but she's already made it to the marble room. The humans aren't even off the elevator yet. When Demi appears, Corin quickly shoves one of them across the floor. Had Demi had her wits, she might have tried to go for the elevator. With her speed, she definitely would have made it in before Corin or Afton could stop her. But as a newborn, the only thing on her mind is blood.

She lunges at the disoriented woman at her feet (Marcus and Santiago have finally caught up and watch from the doorway of her husband's suite) and good Lord the sweet bliss that slides down her throat feels better than anything Marcus did to her with his fingers. She moans and takes another life.

She shoves the body away from her when it's empty. She barely registers the man's screams as she bites him too. (As she drinks, she can't help but notice the aroma of piss that fills the room. In retrospection, she realizes she also smelt this down in the dungeon, but hadn't paid attention to it at the time. Although it is an unpleasant smell, it does not affect her appetite.)

She screeches when she has completely drained the second human. She knows that Marcus only allowed her two but she wants more.

"More," she demands, looking up at Corin and Afton. "More, more, MORE!" She screams. Behind her, Marcus takes a step forward and she stands, spinning around to face him (while most of her mind focuses on him as a potential threat, she notes that he is still not wearing a scrap of clothing). Santiago moves forward as well, positioning himself to intersect her should she try to attack his master.

"More!" She cries petulantly.

"No," he tells her firmly. She screams again and stomps her foot. Logically, she knows how silly she is. Intellectually, she even recognizes that she is beginning for the opportunity to kill more people. But her emotions rule her body right now. She has no idea where the calmness she had when Marcus raped her went. How had she been able to think about anything other than blood? BLOOD!

Not knowing what else to do to get what she wants, she rushes for him. As expected, Santiago easily blocks her attempts to murder her husband. He shoves her, and she flies to the side, hitting the wall first and then the ground. But she lands in a crouch, ready to attack again.

"Demi," Marcus pleads, his voice more annoyed than scared. She feels Afton and Corin move in closer towards her so she pivots her body, reluctantly taking her gaze off her target so that she may see all four of the potential threats.

Her eyes dart between them, trying to figure out who to attack first. If only they would just bring her more blood! That's all she really wants.

Afton takes a step in and Demi lunges. He's fast and experienced with newborns, but Demi manages to grab his arm and twist. She only receives a millisecond of satisfaction from hearing his howl of pain before she's hit from the side and thrown to the ground. Almost faster than her incredibly fast brain can process, she's rolled onto her stomach and has the weight of all three of her guards holding her down.

She tries to buck them off, but just like with Marcus, she can't. For a moment, she thinks she can feel a hand pushing her dress up. Is Marcus down there? Seconds from violating her again?

But then she hears him moving closer to her, and she realizes the only thing making her dress shift around is her own movement.

"Demi," he says, his voice right next to her now as he squats down. Her eyes look up and the first thing she sees his dick, only slightly more flaccid than it was when he was dressing her. She forces her eyes higher and meets his gaze. "You need to calm down," he tells her, not altogether unsympathetic.

"I want more," she tells him again, the whine still high in her throat.

"I know. But you must learn restraint."

She ignores him and snarls. Corin is the one closest to her face and she whips her head around, trying to find a way to bite the bitch.

Marcus sighs heavily but stands. And then he walks away. Not just to the other side of the room—he leaves completely. She can hear him in his suite; opening doors, thumbing through clothes, pulling on a garment. He ignores her fight with the guards, although it's not really much of one. They easily keep her pinned down.

During her thrashing, she's reminded of what Aro said early: "she renders others powerless." If only that were true! She's completely powerless beneath the Wives guard. Despite knowing this, she doesn't give up. At this point, she can no longer even blame her instincts for her behavior. She just wants to win. She wants to break free of them just to prove that she can.

While imprisoned, she thinks of lots of things. She's eye level with the two people she just killed. In her head, she counts her murders: Sandrine, the three women from the Great Hall, her mother, her father, the three other men who constituted her first meal, and finally, these two poor souls who made up her second. 11 in total. She slams her forehead into the stone ground beneath her. She's a monster. And the worst thing is knowing she will not be able to stop.

Eventually, some unknown time later and with the decaying scent of the human bodies steadily getting worse, she finally relaxes in their hold. She's not tired. In fact, she has just as much energy now as she did when this whole fiasco started. But something snaps in her brain, and she has to accept that she'll never be able to circumvent Marcus' will.

By this point, Marcus has returned to the marble parlor in his standard black robes. So when she finally gives in, he walks toward her.

"Are you done?" He asks her, indifferent. It is the same tone a parent would use after their child throws a tantrum. Hesitantly, she nods. "Yes, Husband," he corrects.

Ah. So back to the game she played with Aro. She swallows a collection of venom pooling under her tongue.

"Yes, Husband," she repeats to him.

He motions his head to the guards. Corin is the first to pull back. Despite not being in the least bit stiff, Demi can't help the natural human reaction to roll her shoulder. Afton, who held her midsection down, withdraws next. Finally, when Santiago releases her, Demi moves to stand.

They all stay close to her, looking for signs of her to lose her mind again. She doesn't give them any. Instead, she looks toward Marcus.

He turns and walks back to his rooms, the command that she follow him unspoken but clear. With minimal hesitation, she does. Santiago falls into step behind her but the others stay outside.

Marcus moves swiftly toward what Demi vaguely remembers is the bathroom. He opens the door but makes sure to grab her arm firmly before walking her through.

Immediately, her eyes go to the mirror. There is so much to take in. First, most arrestingly, are the eyes. The bright, almost holographic, red that mark her as a monster. With this final accessory, she truly looks just like the portrait of Didyme. And then, once she gets over the shock of the eyes, she realizes how much the transition enhanced her beauty. Yes, her features always closely resembled Didyme's, but there was never a question of who was the prettiest. The fire cleansed all of Demi's little imperfections; the small but visible wrinkles and lines, the acne scars, and the last of the baby fat that hung on her cheeks. Next, she takes in the ample amount of dried blood around her lips and jaw. She wonders just how much of the precious substance was wasted on her skin.

Finally, Demi's (red) eyes drop down to her neck. It shocks her so much she actually steps back and presses into the wall behind her. As if putting some distance between her and her reflection would somehow save her from the truth. Lining her neck, clinging to her like a choker, is a collar of bite marks. They are thin and clean, and although she knows humans would not be able to see them, to a vampire's eyes they scream for attention.

Marcus watches her reactions in the mirror as well, his own red eyes assessing the horror at her new appearance.

Slowly, somewhat dazzled by the paleness and daintiness of her hand, Demi's fingers come up to prod her throat. Just like with Demetri, the scars are noticeably cooler than the rest of her.

"They're ugly," she complains. They are so much more than ugly; they are enraging, devastating, insulting, a symbol of the power Marcus holds over her, etc. They are so many awful things besides just the negative cosmetic appeal.

"You threw away my ring. I gave you something a bit more permanent." Marcus is unapologetic. Of course.

Demi glances away from the reflection, dropping her gaze to the floor. In truth, the ground is surprisingly interesting with her new eyes. Still, she really does it just to escape having to stare at her new reality any longer.

"I am going to leave you for some time," Marcus tells her. She doesn't look up. "If you behave, I'll bring you back a treat." His promise both excites (BLOOD!) and disgusts her. "While I am gone, I want you to work with Santiago on controlling your strength. You will be frustrated by the process, but I want to see real progress when I return." Once again, Demi doesn't respond.

She sees his hand come up to grasp her jaw and force her to look at him. "Do you understand?"

There is a moment, fleetingly, where she imagines attacking him and marking him with her teeth. If she could, she'd aim for his left eye.

"Yes, Husband," she dutifully responds.

His absence is a relief, but she is reminded that this is just day one of eternity.

Words: 7,241

No beta, so please forgive some mistakes.

Well...I did promise, way back in November of 2016, not to completely abandon this fic. A two-year hiatus doesn't count. I was going to wait to post this chapter. In fact, the original version of this chapter currently sits at 17k+ words. But it was just getting too long and I decided I would just post the first half now. So stay tuned for a new chapter soon (hopefully not in another two years, lol). If you would like, please review. I promise I do read them and they do motivate me.