It seemed like every day that ended she managed to feel a bit more exhausted and she had to wonder if it was like this for all mortals. The only saving grace was that even in human form she could not die, although she could most certainly feel the accumulation of a hard day building up on her. She walked down the hall to her quarters, one hand lifting to push beneath locks of long red hair, gripping the back of her neck and digging fingers into the muscle. There were many times during the day when she wished fervently to go back to the simplistic days of being nothing more than what she was, fire in its purest form, the wrath of flames that burnt the night. No feelings, no thought. . .just the simplicity of existing because of need.

She had successfully cut herself off from those around her, kept herself at a careful distance and fooled herself into caring for no being other than Alika. Her heart, although burning with the flames of heat as always, was hardened and that was the way she preferred it. Why give of herself what she would surely lose tomorrow? She did not care to allow her mortal heart to break and risk that it would never be whole again. How could she love if her heart was in pieces? And surely that is where it would be if she let anyone in, despite what Drake and Danae said. They meant well but. . .She sighed, pushed the useless thoughts from her mind.

Melisande pushed open the door to her room and closed it behind her, leaning against the doorframe and closing her eyes before pulling the boots off her feet and the socks. She tossed them aside, shrugged off the black leather jacket to reveal a gray tank top beneath and black leather pants. She didn't bother with the light, she never did. Thoroughly distracted she never saw the shadow attached to a nearby wall, even when she tossed the jacket on the bed and proceeded to walk right past it.

Dorian heard Mel even before she opened the door to her little 'home.' Some kind of home it was, too... certainly not the feminine retreat of some of the women Dorian had known. It wasn't covered over with tissue paper bags and pink birthday cards and wishful notes from friends and useless figurines and magnets with catchy sayings. It wasn't filled to capacity with portraits or posters of cinematic stars. It wasn't even the type of place most women could stand. It was far more barren, far more careful and detatched.

How very perfect for Mel, ever the detatched one.

Dorian watched Mel take off her shoes, shrug off her jacket. He kept his arms crossed over his chest and made no move just yet, except to follow her with his eyes. How delicious, this ability to stand just this close to her, to watch her... while she had no idea. It was like the thrill of the hunt, but ratcheted up even more when you added these subtle sexual undertones.

Who needed candles and flowers, this was too good to be true.

"Weight of the world on your shoulders I see," he said, just loudly enough for her to hear, but still barely over a whisper. Casting the room into a forced intimacy. Oh, she would draw closer.

Lights off. . .just the way she preferred it and the shadows closing in around her as she moved in the general direction of the bedroom. She'd had trouble with one of her students today, a young woman gifted with the ability to control lightning although she was forced to use the term 'control' loosely. It was more like the power controlled her and Melisande had had to put out five seperate fires that the young woman caused on sheer accident. It was rather frustrating that she didn't seem to understand that emotion fed fire related powers. . .it made them stronger and more dangerous. Although putting out the flames had not been hard at all and had been done with a mere snap of the fingers it was more that the student wasn't seeming to comprehend what Melisande was trying to teach her.

A voice. . .Melisande's eyes flared with electric blue flame for a moment before the rough-throated sound fully reached her ears and her memory. She knew that voice. . .turning slowly, her eyes still glowing blue with incadescent fire in the darkened room, she let her eyes fall on the shadow attached to the wall as though it belonged there. And in his mind it probably did. . .She didn't know what he was doing there or how he had found out where she was but it didn't matter much now. Because he was there and she knew from hard experience that he didn't know how to quit. Dorian. She shook her head slightly before the flames died from her eyes and melted back to their normal blue, regarding him slowly. Standing against the wall as though he owned the place. . .

"Not quite considering I happen to know the Avatar who holds the weight of the world on his shoulders. . .likes plants, goes by the name of Dean. . ." she shrugged off handedly, playing off her surprise, taking a step closer to him before standing her ground.

Reminding herself sharply of why she had left him in the first place. Cool detachment slid into place with the reminders and her eyes flicked over him, showing little to no interest, almost having forgotten what he had meant to her so long ago but only because she had made herself forget. Better to be cold than fall apart. . .Distance helped. She could remember better why she had run from him and if only she could keep running. . .

"Dorian. Playing with the shadows, still, I see. What are you doing here?"

Her surprise was easy enough to read and even that sent a bit of victory right through him. Her one-step-forward-now-stop was something right out of the army of the old days, right out of the idiot restraint that so much of the world admired. Oh well, she was looking.

She'd been this careful last time too. She'd looked at him as if he was just a man on the street, she'd taken him in and passed her eyes to the next thing. But Dorian had never been anything if not persistent and this time he had the advantage of knowing the rules of her game.

Playing with the shadows, still, I see. What are you doing here?

"I could ask you the same thing, my dear. This place is as welcoming as a morgue. Actually, less welcoming. Even in a morgue there is the ghost of life dancing about in the corners, not quite ready to ride off yet." He took a step forward as well, and stopped. Let them stand here and face off, if this was what she wanted. For now.

Games, games and yet more games. . .always a dance of some kind with them. She remembered the days of old when he had stood by her side and showed her the world, showed her that true darkness rested in the souls of man and yet. . .fire could shed light into the darkest corners. He had been her poison, the one thing that she could not turn away from and could not say no to. Anything but gentle but in a way that only fire could seem to handle, and true fire because that was her essence and her blood, he had been the stoke that lit the flames in the night. . .and she had turned away from him. For fear of getting to close and even now. . .too close.

She held her ground, however, and did not take a step back although his step forward had her swallowing hard. It was no use hiding the effect his proximity held for he knew all to well what he could do. Those dark eyes and barely hinted fangs. . .she remembered well what it felt like to have them sink beneath the surface of pristine flesh. Not quite what anyone would imagine, intoxicating and deadly. . .yet in a way that managed to hold her breath securely in her throat even now with just a thought back to the past. His power over her had always been complete and she had done nothing but barely hold it back.

"Material things are for mortals, Dorian, and though I hold the beating heart and body of such. . .I am not and never will be. You should know that all too well. What is pretending to be anything but what I am other than a fantasy that will pass too quickly?"

Dorian had always listened as much with his eyes as with his ears, it was what made him so dangerous when he was gambling. He smiled at Mel as she spoke, exposing just a little of his fangs.

"My dear Mel, always concerned with what you have and what you'll lose. I tried to show you... this eternal life can't always be about what you stand to lose. It should be about what you hold in your fingers. Someone said we're more beautiful because we're damned. Perhaps we're the most beautiful of all then." He took another step, but this one to the side, and then another step, circling her but not too close. He'd give her time, build up to that. He loved all of this far too much to hurry it along.

"This eternal life becomes terribly boring when all we do is prowl around avoiding it."

Damn him. . .always able to twist her logic and push it back in her face unevasively. She knew that he was right, to an extent, but she would not let onto that fact. Far more ancient than he was and understanding far more of the bigger picture and still he managed to make her see time in smaller chunks, like a broken clock upon the floor. The minutes with him seemed as hours. . .She stood her ground firmly as he circled her like a lion to its prey and certainly, in a way, that was how he saw her. He always had, that razor edge of darkness shining through in her presence even if he held it in check with the rest of the world. Freedom to be who he was. . .She knew that he would not hesitate to take what he wanted, if only because he knew that her wants were the same. Even if her voice would not speak it.

Melisande felt him draw behind her and she closed her eyes briefly for a moment while he could not see, pushing back the memory of rough hands, fangs sliding into skin and blood sliding to the surface. . .blood that she did not always have in her body. Heated skin and frenetic embraces. . .She remembered well the amounts of furniture that had fallen casualty to their passion and it brought the hint of a smile to her lips before her eyes snapped open and she pushed memory back. No. . .she could not fall to him again, he could not be the poison that flooded her veins and stuck there to linger. . .

But, oh merciful gods she didn't want to fight it. . .

"If we both speak in riddles, Dorian, then how are we ever to find an answer?" she asked, keeping her body straight while he circled, barely moving her eyes. "You say embrace the moment, I say the moment is gone too quickly. . .we could be at this all night."

Dorian raised an eyebrow at this. "Yes, of course we could be at this all night, don't you think that's my intention? Night can be forever."

He kept circling her, purposefully not moving any closer or any farther away. He was a master at holding things exactly how he wanted them and that was the truth.

"When I heard you had come back, I was quite excited. It's not every day I get a second crack at one of my favorite challenges."

It was too dark in the house for a mortal to see, but Dorian was no mortal. He could see every line of Mel's body, he could see the curl of her dark lashes and the hesitation in her eyes, the nervous tension that took her. She remembered him as well as he remembered her. Hmmmm.

Fool's errands. . .although her more recent excuse that to care for a mortal was to suffer the heartbreak of losing them was beginning to fall on deaf ears. For one thing, Dorian was not mortal. Although he could be killed and turn to ash he was by no means mortal. Her patience for standing still was beginning to wear thin, as fire was never still for long. Placid water, gentle earth, sliding air. . .all three of her fellow Avatars had elements better equipped for stillness. Fire was never still. And so neither was she, constantly needing to be in motion, doing something, anything. . .

"My patience grows thin, Dorian," she said, her eyes flaring blue again. "Night can not last forever if I singe it away at the edges. . .And there are just some challenges you cannot beat."

She shifted her weight, the boredom leaking into her being showing itself in her lowered heartbeat, the slightly relaxing posture, the one hand that dropped to her hip and the finger that tapped idly against the black of her leather pants. Dancing flamed curled faintly from one tapping finger as she threw down the gauntlet at him, relatively speaking.

"Singe it away at the edges?" Dorian repeated. "That sounds especially promising..."

He could hear her pulse slowing, her muscles relaxing. He moved a little closer, then a little closer, until finally he reached over and ran one finger down her cheek. "This boredom doesn't suit you though. You can be bored with anyone you want but never with me. I detest boredom."

Even as he said it, his hand moved down to her back, pulling her against him, until their faces were nearly touching, until his breath could dance across her skin.

"Why were you away so long?" he whispered into her ear. "Surely you must have known you wouldn't find anything better out there than me."

Melisande had not understood the hidden allure behind vampires until she had become human. . .frankly, things of that nature had never mattered to her before. She had been content to live in the shadows, spinning webs of flame and reigning vengeance and destruction down on those deserving, maintaining a desperately needed balance in the world as best she could even while sometimes stepping over the line. So she might have burned down a few villages just for fun. . .She hadn't always been a rational thinker.

But vampires. . .It wasn't until she had become mortal, until she had done the research and stood by Dorian's side, until the dark grace in everything he did, the seduction in every move, the fangs sliding against skin had kicked in and she understood. Dancing with the devil, indeed. . .For though not evil Dorian certainly was a devil in some regards and certainly she danced with him whether she wanted to or not. She craved him and always had, still did, though she protested that fiercely.

She was managing quite well until his touch fell upon her, his hand sliding down her tank top covered back, jerking her in against his taller frame. Her heartbeat sped up, her blood singing through her veins as she struggled to maintain aloof composure with him. . .that. . .close. . .poison. That's what he was. . .And only the kind that left you in need of more, the kind you became addicted to and couldn't escape from. Breath sliding against her skin, his mouth bent toward her ear, lips gliding barely against the skin there. . .she swallowed hard, remaining passive in his embrace because to touch him back as she so badly wanted to do was to give in.

"I wasn't looking for anything better, Dorian," she replied. Bite me, merciful gods. . . but she didn't say that. He knew her well enough to know what she couldn't resist. Damn him for knowing her at all. . ."Although it's a dead giveaway that you have a bit too much fire in your blood. . .since here you are, again.

"Yes, here I am again. I promised myself a long time ago to take what I wanted and I always keep my promises," he said, before doing exactly that. Taking what he wanted.

Dorian grazed his teeth down her neck, none too gentle, from her ear to her shoulder, pausing there for just a moment before tipping her head back and kissing her throat. And grazing it with his fangs. He remembered all too well that she was no coward, didn't recoil from pain. In fact, she'd pull away from anything that didn't involve just a little pain.

Dorian tightened his grip on her and sank his teeth into her neck, just enough to draw blood. Just enough to lick it up, taste it, make bloodlust rise in him. Mel was definitely in danger now and he had a feeling that was exactly how she liked it.

Remaining passive in his arms, against his frame, was harder than she thought it would be. She wanted badly to grab him, to let the fire in her very being slide to the surface of her skin, to let him feel what it was to be truly immortal, timeless, the essence of the element most untamed. He had felt it before and he was the only one that ever had. . .He had granted her the gift of embracing darkness, of truly living for a second in time after another, and she had given him untameable fire, the soul that he could never truly have as he wanted.

A low groan slipped past her lips as she felt his grip tighten, his fangs sliding over her skin and down her bared neck to her shoulder. Scraping against skin, sending electric blue flares into her eyes that stung slightly. A hand fisted in the red locks of hair, her head tilting back to his will because immortal or not in this body he was physically stronger than her by a longshot. Her head fell back with a slight tug and she kept her hands down as slightly chilled lips pressed against heated flesh. She knew what was coming and closed her eyes as his hand tightened her frame against his own, pointed fangs breaking through the flesh of her exposed throat. . .his only ally was that he could not kill her no matter how much he took. She was immortal, even as a human.

Her body coiled like a hot wire, tightened and then her hands did come up, one gripping his waist and the other his forearm, nails digging in slightly, fingers carving against hard muscle beneath them. She intook a sharp breath of air, her eyes flying open and blazing with blue flame that licked at the orbs, her body pressing harder against his own as she felt his tongue slide against skin, slipping the remnants of boiling heat into his mouth. Her grip on him tightened and she groaned again, unable to pull away, not wanting to for the life of her. . .

"Take you what you want. . .Dorian. . ." she said and it was a little breathless, the danger and the fact that she was rather helpless in his grip tightening her body and making the lust factor rise in her body. God, she was so screwed up. "Take it again. . .By the gods you're a devil. . ."

By the gods you're a devil. . .

This excited him all the more. Of course he was! Dorian was a devil, sure as anything. His mother had seen it him the day he was born. He was meant for far greater and more wicked things in this world than most men.

Dorian's hand ran down Mel's back, stopping at the small of her back where he could hold her closest. He knew he was a lot stronger than her and that she would fight him. Not out of fear but out of excitement. They'd never played nice.

He ran his tongue over the puncture wounds again, just for a second tasting her power, her heat, her strange blood. So much better than human blood. The taste drove him crazy, and he sank his teeth deep into her neck this time, holding her still and drinking from her.

Her power seemed to jump right through him, supercharge him. Dorian felt painful liqued fire race into his body and fill his mind. Blinding. Perfect. This was a lust for something entirely different from anything else. This was like being one with the sun.

He drank until he felt so dizzy that he thought he wouldn't be able to hold himself up. Finally he stopped, but his mouth stayed on her skin, his hands held her just as tightly.

Intoxication was a dangerous thing. . .deadly in its own way because it was like all consuming, soul burning fire. It could light in the very embodiment of a being and burn from within, never being sated and flaming eternally into the night. Intoxication could consume the mind and eat it alive, leaving nothing left but a singular thought that stole all else. Danger could be the most enticing intoxication of all, to skirt on the edges of death that could never be obtained. . .She understood, on a psychological level, her intoxication with Dorian. It was simple, really.

She was immortal, a being that had been around for centuries and eons, from times gone by and she would remain when all else faded from memory. An existance like that left more than a little room for pride and it was hard not to fall into the mindset that nothing could stop you, you were invincible. And yet. . .within the hands of Dorian she felt anything but. He was the only one she knew that could use his darkness to overpower her, to bring her to her knees and back again, to make her beg in twenty five languages. Intoxication.

She felt his hands slide down her back and press her father into him, his fangs sinking deeper into her neck this time around. Her grip on him tightened, his name tumbling past her lips as her back arched slightly, her breath coming in faster rhythm. She could feel her blood being pulled from her veins and into him, her eyes blazing with ethereal blue fire and her skin heating beneath his touch. She backed them both up until his back hit the wall rather roughly, her hands sliding up his sides and flaring with heat, palms slipping beneath his shirt and over hardened muscle. Her hips arched into him as she scratched nails harshly against his skin, pushing him on, over the edge, telling him to embrace all that he was.

Intoxication.

Dorian could almost hear her thoughts, they were so loud. He felt her pushing him on, tempting him. As she shoved him back against the wall and ran her fingers over his sides, Dorian smiled to himself. She was asking for something he would be more than happy to give.

Dorian snarled finally and sank his teeth into her again, giving up all attempts at being graceful. His legs gave way and he fell forward, taking her down with him, knocking them both to the floor, but he still refused to stop drinking from her. His warm breath fell over her neck as he drew back for only a few seconds, and then he tore into her again. He kept her trapped beneath him, determined not to let her wiggle away even if she tried.

It was probably an odd thing that their relationship thrived on blood, lust and passion but it always had and Melisande figured that it probably always would. Before she had left him, before she had run away into the night for fear of attachment and higher emotions she had worried--greatly--that she was falling for the vampire in more ways than she could control. Her age was centuries, her life undying and although his face did not age either he was still mortal in the sense that he would die long before she did. There it was again. Running from what could not be controlled. The heart's desires.

And right then, as hands jerked her in again and his fangs sank into her neck with abandon, she could not run from her heart's desire. She hissed in a breath of pain as he knocked them both to the floor, wriggling beneath him with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his lower back although that was useless. Truly she did not want to be out from under him but it was part of the game, the chase, the catch and the metaphorical kill. He was stronger than her and he was the first person in her entire life to be able to get her on her back, helpless, although his bites would not kill her or harm her truly.

Her breath came faster than it should have, small grunts leaving her lips, tiny cries of the slightest pain each time his teeth found purchase in pristine and porcelain skin. Her hands came up to both shoulders, pushed until she managed to roll them both and she took top, her blue eyes blazing down at him, skin on fire.

"Dorian. . .old habits will consume us both if we let them. . .Why wait so long to find me?"

Dorian. . .old habits will consume us both if we let them. . .Why wait so long to find me?

He knew she was going to roll them over, almost before she did it. As his back hit the ground and he looked up at her, a hungry smirk took his face. He licked his lips and stared into her blazing eyes.

"Sometimes waiting for something makes it taste better," he said. "But don't think I forgot about you." He traced his fingers along her legs, giving her just a moment to catch her breath. Giving himself a moment too. "Even if I was taken by the sun, destroyed by dawn, my memories of you would remain forever. We'll inspire idiots who sit at tables with pen and paper... we'll be the beating heart of stories for the rest of history." He laughed at his own words. "Oh, don't think everyone doesn't wish they could have this..." He leaned up and this time kissed her lips, just as hungrily as he'd bit into her neck.

If she let herself fall into this then she knew without doubt that she would never stop falling. She would be unable to, unable to stop the descent into flames that would surely consume them both. . .for how long could fire burn lit only by passion and lust? She knew that it took more to stoke the flames and it was that very thing that had sent her running in the first place, the very thing that could change the course of what they had and what they were. Feelings. Emotions. Crossing a boundary that was never meant to be crossed. It was one thing to be thrown around by him, to give into carnal lust and human weakness for such but to love and to care. . .?

"Very poetic, Dorian. . ."

Then her words were muffled and silenced by his lips on hers and she shifted her weight against him, finally finding the strength to pull her mouth from his own and almost instantly wanting to be back to the frenzy of passion, to allowing him control that she allowed no other soul on the planet. Was it emotion or lust? Carnal passion or. . .worth running from? She rolled off him and lay there for a second, searching for breath and fully knowing that he would not allow such a reprieve.

Dorian felt her pull away from him, break their kiss and a second later, he was staring up at the ceiling. He heard her breathing beside him, felt his terrible immortal heart pounding with the excitement of all of this. He licked his lips and lay still for barely a few seconds before moving, rolling back onto her and holding her face firmly between his long, pale fingers.

He looked into her eyes, at the blue flames there, at her doubt and wonder and hesitation. "You're such a silly being sometimes, Mel. Don't think. Stop thinking! Give in for a few minutes and let time go away... you can make time your slave, you can be mistress and magician all at once. This is yours, take it. Stop thinking." He bent his head and rubbed his nose against her temple, drinking in her scent. "Time can hold anyone back. You have to capture it. I do it every day."

He brought his lips back to her mouth, so close that they were almost touching. His offer, his temptation and as he looked into her eyes, he knew she would accept.

Melisande knew that in the back of her mind this was insanity. An Avatar and a vampire. . .surely the marks that he laid to her would be reviled by those that knew her best if they were seen but she could not bring herself to cast him away as she knew that she should. A century between them and still she could not tell him no, could not turn away from him. It was as though he might have cast a spell on the Immortal and she was certain that must have been a power trip for him to know what sway he held over one such as her.

She was not surprised when his body rolled onto hers, pinning her against the carpet with his mouth mere centimeters away from her own. She held her breath for a moment as she studied him, listened to his words and nearly laughed. Time. . .he was trying to tell her about time, to tell her to stop thinking and let it all go. She was timeless and yet. . .Her hands came up almost as though drawn by strings and landed on his waist, her lips lifting the scant centimeters to press against his own firmly. No was beyond her. . .

"What have you done to me, Dorian. . .why can I not turn you away?"

Dorian kissed her with abandon. Her words meant nothing to him as long as he was swept into this strange black magic they made. If he had any choice, they'd fall into this at least once a day for the rest of eternity.

Finally, though, he said, "What have I done to you? I've loved you, Mel. I taught you what love and desire and passion felt like... before me you only knew the passion of your own flame. I've shown you mine." He kissed her neck, already too drunk on her supernatural blood to be able to drink anymore. "I've shown you how to live."

Was that true? Lying on the floor beneath him she felt many things but she was not entirely sure that any of it was love. . .it felt like the flames of lust, passion, the kind that could not be put out because to try only made them burn hotter. She knew that at one time, a century ago, she had very nearly allowed herself to love him and instead had gone running from the emotion. A century was a long time to forget, to push back emotions such as those and she had grown distant in that time, even less inclined to the emotional. At the same time there was the obvious fact that he was a vampire and they were dark creatures, no matter how neutral he was. Melisande could not remember the last time that she had been so damnably confused about one thing.

"Love, Dorian? I think not. . .this is not love. This is passion, fire, lust. I loved you once, long ago, and perhaps it is my fault that such a thing happened. But even so. . .Dorian, I am confused. Nothing makes sense anymore. If what we have and share is so right then why do we hide it away from the rest of the world?"

Dorian rolled his eyes at her question. "Of course, one very obvious answer to that question would be that I can't exactly go skipping down the street at noon and hold your hand at tea time. Besides, there's something very nice about you at night. You burn all the brighter."

He rolled off of her at last but took her hand, holding her wrist to his mouth. His teeth barely grazed her skin, up and down the inside of her arm. So dangerous... if she had been mortal. But no danger of killing her, no danger of hurting her too badly.

"You ran from me when this was 'love'. Will you run from me now because it is not?"

She sighed when he rolled off her, although the slight bit of clear headedness that the motion brought with it was muddled when his hand clasped her wrist against his mouth, his teeth toying against the unbroken flesh of her wrist. She worked hard at keeping her breathing normal and even, at keeping herself under control in the face of her rising desire for him. It was the same old song and dance. . .she was always the one to fight it and he was always the one to pursue, an act he never tired of. She could punch him, kick him, push him away all night long and he would come back each time with a bite all the harder. The man simply did not know how to give in.

"Doesn't matter, Dorian. I cannot run from you. . .for one thing you have my wrist in your grasp and for two. . .I know better than to think that you would allow such an easy escape a second time. You trap me, in more ways than one. Makes you shiver to think of such a thing, doesn't it? What does that kind of power feel like?

It was true. She might as well have worn chains with his name on them. . .each time he caught up to her she could not run from him, she could not turn him away or overpower his strength. Strength of the mind, of the body, of control over his powers. . .She was never certain of whether she wanted to run or not and it was that uncertainty, that confusion and the need for more of what he offered that trapped her so securely in his grasp.

What a deliciously accurate description. The power he had over her did make him shiver.

"That power feels like everything you ever wanted... immortality and kingdom and rebirth. The most seductive of all things, that power..." He grazed his teeth over her skin again, this time hard enough to draw blood. The taste of it made him feel dizzy. The thirst would come back soon if he kept up like this and Mel would have to play victim to it.

"A tall castle no good, without then a kingdom," he whispered and laughed to himself. Poetry at a time like this. Always. He was drunk on blood and he knew it, drunk on her strange blood, on power and immortality and the whispers of the gods. "Magic is scarcely to bloom, Though glitter falls around, My castle within a looking ball, these guests don't know me." He looked at her. "What do you think, is a castle any good without a kingdom? Am I any good without you?"

Melisande lay next to him without putting up much of a fight yet, still trying to quell her racing human heart. His answer to her question nearly made her laugh out loud but she refrained, the dark humor showing only in the blue orbs that he could not see in the moment. Immortality, kingdom and rebirth. All things that had been hers and more, that in essence still were. She was fire, the root of it, the reason of it, the blazing heat behind all things with the flicker of hellfire at its core. She was Immortal and, truly, would never die. No matter the outcome of this century there would be another. . .then another after that. So long as there was cause for fire, heat. . .there was cause for Immortality.

She hissed in a breath as Dorian's teeth broke through the skin on her wrist, his grip firm around the slender appendage as he held it to his lips. She could almost feel his nearly insatiable thirst growing again, could time it nearly to perfection even after all this time, and she mentally counted down the seconds until he would need more or starve from lack of it. . .it was surely a good thing that his hunger could never kill her. It was in those moments when total control was his that she yielded to him as she would never at any other time. . .

"You were fine long before me, Dorian, and truly you do not have me now. . ." but she knew that was a lie. A very pretty lie, but a lie nonetheless. He would take it as a challenge, she knew, and she sat up slowly, pulling her wrist from his reach. Again the dance would continue, the steps never quite certain. . .

You were fine long before me, Dorian, and truly you do not have me now

As Mel sat up, Dorian watched her, smiled at her words. "Don't have you? Of course not... I could never have you, or this wouldn't be any fun for either of us... but there are brief seconds where I do. There are times that I do... and then the chase. The chase is always better if my prey has a chance of escaping."

He pushed himself up so that he was propped up by his elbows. "And what of me? Do you think you have me?" he asked, amused by all of this talk. Sometimes he wondered if this playing that he did with her would be his end someday. Surely those that Be weren't happy about the union of a poor-born vampire and an avatar of fire. Surely someone somewhere must be quite angry about Dorian rolling around with Mel. He didn't even bother to imagine what Drake would do to him if he knew. From what Dorian had heard of Drake, the dreamwalker was no fan of vampires and especially not one with Dorian's reputation.

Dorian moved in closer to Mel, his thirst pounding through him again. How quickly she was able to do this to him...

"Come, come, Mel," he whispered near her ear. "I only love women who need it. I only do this for women who deserve it and want a little tenderness and love and adventure." He grinned. "And ones that will further my status in life, of course."

Melisande did not move from the ground in which she had taken, her eyes to the wall nearby rather than turning to look at him. She could sense him moving, shifting behind her and moreso than that she could almost feel his bloodlust rising again. . .she could almost time it down to mere seconds until he had to have more. She could not help but wonder if it was the nature of her blood that gave him such a lust for it or if it was simply that she was torn between wanting to embrace him and wanting to shove him away from her and into the nearest solid object. It was no secret that his presence in her life had never failed to confuse her and now she had to wonder. . .would the chase and the games last until the rising dawn as it usually did?

His words whispered into her ear and she shifted away slightly on reflex, however futile the gesture might have been. Love and tenderness aside. . .Dorian had never failed to be rough when it suited him and generally the result of too much resistance was more force applied. The only being that had ever succeeded in doing such a thing with such brashness that had not met their end. . .She almost laughed but refrained. Did she have him? The better question would have been. . .did she want to have him? Did it lie within her beating heart to lay a claim to the vampire that so managed to claim her, even if only for one night at a time before escape became possible again?

"You assume in that question that I want you, Dorian. Truly you think highly of yourself and ever have. Do you not think that one day, one minute, your charms and words will wear away with time? How strong do you think this hold you claim to have is? All things fade with time. . ."

Dorian got up and moved away from her this time, moving away to breathe for a few second and work through this rising, painful thirst. He wasn't usually this way, he didn't lust so quickly or need so much but she was really like a phantom. Her blood was magical but it was also tricky. It disappeared far too soon.

He scoffed at her words. "Think highly of myself? I suppose... but then, I've been alive for too long to give up with humility. If I had any humility, I'd walk into the sun and spare the world of my evil. Unfortunately for them, I'm still proud."

Dorian finally glanced back at her, drinking her in as much with his eyes as he could any other way. "I'm not Zeus. I can't hold you forever. You're different than me, and when this world passes away, perhaps you'll find an angel or a martian or a ghost to love..." He shrugged. "But I'll have had you. For some time. That's good enough for me."

Ever a creature of pride. . .Melisande turned halfway toward him as he spoke and regarded his words with a slow nod of her head. She had not seen much of this evil within him that he spoke of, only the carnal desire of one creature that did not quite belong in this world to another. Perhaps she would find another to love with the passage of time but she had to ask herself if she loved Dorian at all. It might have been nothing but a trick of the emotions that were laid bare in their nights together. . .She thought on it for a moment without responding to him. Love him? She did not think so. . .at a time nearly a century ago she would have said that she did. Certainly she loved him in a reserved place for the edge of clarity that he had shown her, the moments when she had truly lived when before she had only shadowed the world. But now. . .now she did not know what she wanted from him in regards to emotion.

She made her way to her bed again and sat on the edge of it, bare feet trailing across plush carpet. That was enough for him. . .the sentiment made her smile and she looked up at him where he stood wreathed in shadow as always seemed to be the case. It was true. He had claimed her for awhile and surely that claim was not yet dissipated into the night. Even with him standing only a few feet away she wanted to tell him to come to her, to chase away the empty cold in the nights. She bit into her lower lip before finally motioning for him to come closer, despite her better judgment. Could one more night really hurt? But she knew she was lying to herself. It would not be one more night. . .how many more were before them she did not know but she knew that what he offered she was not quite ready to turn away from.

"Come, Dorian. Enough talk of the past and future that neither of us can predict. I grow tired of it. These riddles in my mind I cannot solve right now nor do I wish to try. Whatever is between us. . .it will not be erased within the span of the next five minutes. Perhaps time will change what we have and perhaps you are right. Might be that I find someone to love truly and you find someone to entertain your nights. But for now. . .for now it is what it is."

Dorian watched her, barely hearing her words over the roar in his ears. The thirst was getting stronger, threatening to take him over completely. With a human, he'd be more careful, he would slip away into the night so he wouldn't snap them in half or drain them dry.

But what was the worst that could happen if he truly lost control of himself with Mel? Nothing worst than any other time... he couldn't kill her or honestly hurt her at all.

Still, though, the rage and hunger were stirring within him and he hoped this time he wouldn't hurt her, send her away. He certainly didn't feel like being gentle or, what was it she said? Talking riddles? This riddle-talking was over.