Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hello, hello, anybody out there?
'Cause I don't hear a sound
Alone, alone
I don't really know where the world is
But I miss it now

I'm out on the edge, and I'm screaming my name
Like a fool at the top of my lungs
Sometimes when I close my eyes, I pretend I'm alright
But it's never enough”

(Echo - Jason Walker)

~✾~

Volterra, early 18th century

Carlisle did not know what tore him apart more: the memory of every drop of blood he had unwillingly spilled, or the silent, gnawing fear of never finding a place in this world. The silent fear of being damned forever… of knowing that his soul would never find peace again.

Since his transformation, he had been a driven man. A stranger in his own body, a sinner… possessed by the devil, or so it seemed. Oh yes, he was truly a monster!

At first, he had avoided the villages, passed through cities like a shadow, his face hidden under hoods, fighting the thirst night after night. But the struggle took its toll. And far too often he lost it and gave in to the bloodlust.

Decades had passed, which he had spent alone, hidden and broken. He found no meaning anymore in what he was or what his purpose was supposed to be… Did he even still have a purpose? A meaning in his botched existence?

His father would have burned him if he had seen him like this! A monster! His damned son! Infected with the disease of vampirism… the devil’s disease!

But something in Carlisle kept him going, even if he himself could not quite name it. Perhaps the last remnants of his survival instinct and the quiet spark of a hope that refused to die, that behind all that darkness, there might still be light on the horizon.

And so he had begun to travel through Europe, learned Latin, medicine, philosophy, and theology. Practiced moderation, though he failed again and again. And then – one day – he finally met Aro, who was also on a journey of study.

Aro, who at that time was fleeing from his own shadow, from an atrocity he had committed upon his own sister. No one knew. No one except Alec… and he would keep silent, Aro was sure of that. “I have taken Marcus' mate… I have killed my sister...” echoed again and again through Aro’s mind, no matter how far he traveled or how much he tried to distract himself with blood, sex, and the knowledge of the old and new world… “And it had to be done. I did the right thing.”

But of all this Carlisle naturally knew nothing.

For the Englishman, that mind-reader was a sharp and brilliant mind who seemed to know more than Carlisle had ever dared to dream. The mind-reader was, as it turned out, also one of the leaders of the most powerful vampire coven in the world!

And although Carlisle doubted Aro’s true intentions toward him, he still agreed to several evenings full of philosophical debates about the meaning of life and especially of immortality.

“Tell me, Carlisle,” Aro had asked one night in a velvety soft voice. “Which weighs heavier in your esteemed opinion: a life in guilt, or an eternal existence in control?” The head of the beautiful man was slightly tilted, his jet-black hair falling in endless, silky waves.

Carlisle had returned the gaze calmly. “I fear guilt cannot be worn away by eternity. Only by grace.”

Aro’s smile had, in that moment, seemed unspeakably old, the young vampire remembered. Marked by a knowledge he could not grasp. “Grace is a human construct, dear friend. But we… we are beyond that.”

“Or should be,” were the Englishman’s words. “But what if this very grace is the last part of our humanity that remains to us?”

This comment made the black-haired man furrow his brow. He had almost seemed like a reproachful father admiring his son’s naivety. “Perhaps… Or perhaps what you call ‘humanity’ is just a chain you have not yet dared to cast off.”

Aro – with all his infinity that he had lived through – fascinated Carlisle deeply, and so he soon agreed to come to Volterra, to join Aro’s coven and to learn from the Volturi. He hoped for enlightenment. He hoped for a new meaning, a new purpose in the midst of his damned existence.

And so he had come here – to the Volturi. The kings and queens of the vampire world. The keepers of order. The enforcers of law.

Perhaps, he thought, he could find redemption here. A new truth, a new meaning. Perhaps law and justice meant something different for his kind. Perhaps his purpose was not to deny himself, but to tame the chaos of his own kind, just as Aro had revealed to him.

With these thoughts, the Londoner straightened his shoulders and stepped across the threshold of the ancient halls. His boots echoed on the cold marble, accompanied by the silent escort of two guards who led him toward the throne room.

He let his gaze sweep over the imposing castle. It looked almost like a fortress! A fortress on a hill in the midst of picturesque Tuscany! The walls seemed to breathe on their own. Ancient stories of blood, power, and downfall were hidden deep within their bowels.

Carlisle could not have known that this castle had been built not too long ago to protect Didyme, and that she had only recently been allegedly murdered cruelly by a foreign vampire…

He felt the all-consuming burning in his throat and fought against the desire as he entered reverently, ready to face his new calling.

The slender figure of Master Aro came toward him immediately. His eyes glowed crimson in the light of the torches, and yet his smile was inviting – almost human in its warmth. And yet a bit too friendly…

Carlisle bowed deeply and kept his gaze lowered, even though the hairs on his neck stood on end. He ignored it. It was surely just a side effect of his vampiric existence…

“Welcome, my young friend,” Aro spoke velvety. His voice was of the sort that could make even poison sound like a blessing. “You have traveled far. It honors us that you accept our invitation.”

Carlisle dared to raise his gaze. “Thank you, Master Aro.”

He should have said nothing more, but within him, a desperate hope surged up. Maybe… maybe there was a home here. A purpose. A meaning… something that could give meaning to his endless lonely nights again.

A quiet movement at the edge of his vision made him turn his eyes from Aro. A woman stepped forward. Her grace was of a painful simplicity, no striking beauty, but something deeper, something that stirred distant memories of light and innocence. Something that shone so brightly from within that it needed none of the splendor and costly elegance of an expensive wardrobe.

“May I introduce,” Aro said almost reverently. “My wife. Sulpicia.”

Carlisle stared at her – a moment too long. It was precisely that simplicity that made her incredibly beautiful! She radiated such dignity and elegance. That strength which needs no validation. And he noticed, almost in passing, that her eyes were not red, but a deep brown – almost black. She must be incredibly hungry! Or… was it intentional?

“Welcome, Carlisle,” he heard her soft and melodic voice and looked into her delicate features.

The vampire could not help but think that she was the most beautiful being he had ever been allowed to see. Graceful and elegant, with an opaque fragility he could hardly grasp… and yet she must be incredibly strong. After all, she was the mate of Aro Volturi!

He quickly pulled himself together when he realized that he was still staring and bowed deeply as he took her offered hand. His lips briefly touched her skin – cool and silky – and an unexpected pain shot through him, as if he had defiled a sacred place.

Sulpicia smiled politely and reservedly. Not cold, but distant enough to make it clear that a world of duties and invisible walls lay between them. “We are very pleased to have you with us.”

Carlisle swallowed hard and let go of her hand. A part of him wanted to flee immediately, to run away from the growing, foolish spark in his chest, which he could not name. Another part… wanted to stay. Wanted to learn more about this beautiful and yet so fragile-looking vampire.

She seemed so different from Aro… How did that fit together?

A brief sideways glance and he noticed how the watchful eyes of the mind-reader were boring into his. He had noticed… of course he had noticed.

Carlisle immediately lowered his gaze humbly, yet clearly felt how Aro’s interest settled over him like a cold mist. It was no hostility. Not yet. Just a sharp, calculating observation.

But two other vampires were also in the room who had not yet moved. Now they rose and stepped toward him in reverent steps. A woman with ash-blonde hair stepped forward, her posture upright and marked by a cool elegance. Beside her a man with sharply cut features and white hair, whose red eyes scrutinized Carlisle – almost as if they wanted to pierce him like a blade.

“Athenodora, my esteemed sister-in-law, and her husband, Caius,” said Aro with a slight smile. “The oldest of our kind.”

Carlisle bowed respectfully again. “The oldest…,” he whispered. “Tell me, how old are you exactly?”

Eager and with a mixture of disgust and fascination, which he felt for his own race, the Londoner examined that original vampire before him. He had never met a creature that seemed so little human…

“My earliest memories go back to the Babylonian Empire,” came coolly from the white-haired one. Caius nodded in his direction and the weight in the master’s words seized the young vampire.

Athenodora meanwhile inclined her head slightly, her expression friendly but distant. “Welcome to Volterra, Carlisle Cullen. May your stay with us be enlightening.”

Carlisle also kissed her offered hand in all politeness. “Thank you for the warm welcome.”

A brief moment of silence followed before Sulpicia gently spoke: “Marcus, our fifth leader, is currently absent, you must excuse him please. He has withdrawn to process the loss of his mate Didyme. She has only recently left us in a very tragic way.”

At the mention of Didyme, Aro’s expression changed ever so slightly. Sulpicia felt it beside her and placed a calming hand on his back, a gesture that said more than words. She knew how much her husband still suffered from the loss of his sister.

They all still suffered far too much!

And as much as she had tried, she could not take the burden from him, could not ease the pain and sorrow. Aro had not been the same since Didyme’s death, and she wished so much that he would share his emotions with her… but he had been strangely withdrawn since then. Absent-minded at times…

Her heart bled for him and his loss.

Carlisle nodded understandingly. “I understand. The loss of a loved one is a wound that takes time to heal.”

Aro took a deep breath, his expression changed ever so slightly, as if he was laying a layer of impenetrability over his pain, then he turned his attention back to the Englishman before him.

“Come, my young friend. Let us show you your new chambers and talk about your future role here. There is still much to see!” he cooed and motioned Carlisle to go outside.

The vampire’s eyes flicked once more to Sulpicia. He could not help but notice that there was also an undefinable pain in her gaze – it seemed almost hauntingly familiar.

His eyes too were black from time to time when he denied himself the blood…

Could it be… that she perhaps felt the same pain as he did?

Sulpicia, queen of the vampires? Aro Volturi’s mate?

He shook his head and forced himself to inner order before fixing his eyes again on Aro and immediately following him outside.

Behind him he left only the pale echo of skin on skin and the ghostly notion that he might be able to save his soul in this place. That this woman, in whatever form, would be the key to it… even if he could not quite name why that was so. Perhaps it was a premonition…

Either he would save his soul here… or lose himself entirely.

“What am I supposed to do,
but sink my teeth in you?
I starve without you on my lips,
I die without the taste of it
What am I supposed to be
when you sink your teeth in me?
'Cause I live for the way you move,
I'd die without the taste of you”

(Taste Of You - Dove Cameron ft. Rezz)

~✾~

The training room lay deep underground. There, where no windows disturbed the darkness and the echo of blows was lost forever between the stone walls… Torches cast flickering shadows across the high ceiling, and the air smelled of old sweat, metal, and blood. Of pain and suffering, as well as something that was not human at all…

Felix stood like a rock in the center of the room, bare to the waist, his upper body covered in scars and taut muscle. Next to him, agile and wiry like a predator, stood Demetri. Carlisle faced the two of them, watching with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Come on,” Felix grunted. “Try again!”

Carlisle took position, forcing his thoughts aside. He had learned to imitate the stance and the movements. To numb himself, to feel nothing. But the instinct that burned in the others like fire was only a flickering light in him. Or at least, he fought it down as if it were.

He didn’t want to fight. Not really!

A fast blow came from the left. He hadn’t been prepared. Carlisle dodged, stumbled over his own feet, caught himself, and backed away.

“You think too much,” Demetri called, gracefully and lethally spinning a dagger through the air. “And you’re too gentle. That’ll get you killed.”

Carlisle pressed his lips together. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” he said quietly.

Felix laughed dryly. “You’re a vampire, Carlisle. Our kind kills. It’s not optional. It’s what we are.”

Of course, the former gladiator also had reverence for life. But the cells of his steel-hard body were equally in tune with his new identity. And that new identity – that of a vampire – demanded blood to survive. It demanded killing.

In a flash, Felix turned around and motioned the newcomer to approach. Carlisle’s stomach clenched again even before he saw what was happening. Two more guards brought a human into the room, and Carlisle had to swallow dryly.

A young man was dragged in. His face was pale and frightened, his eyes darting wildly as he tried to comprehend his surroundings and recognize anything in the darkness.

The Englishman involuntarily took a step back. “What… what is this?”

“An exercise,” Felix said coldly. He knew one had to shed their humanity one day if they wanted to survive eternity. He had done the same… When he saw Carlisle’s horrified face, he added: “Your thirst is old. We know it, you can’t hide it from us. And it’s time you learn what it means to take what you need.”

Carlisle shook his head firmly. “No.” He was certain he wouldn’t break.

Demetri stepped forward, his blood-red eyes glowing menacingly in the dark. “You must. It is part of yourself. You can only become who you are meant to be if you give in to your true nature.”

“I can’t.” Carlisle’s voice was barely a whisper.

Felix stepped closer, grabbed him by the shoulder—so hard that the Englishman briefly lost his balance. “Then you are a danger to us and to yourself! If you lose control out there – if you go for children or the elderly because you don’t know what it feels like – then you’ll bring shame upon us all.”

“How can you learn to control something you suppress?” Demetri added, a shade more gently, while the human beside him whimpered pleadingly. The guard ignored it.

Carlisle’s gaze snapped to the mortal, and his throat burned. His body was already in a frenzy. The scent of the human filled the room like warm honey, intoxicating and sweet. The blood whispered to him and wrapped around his senses… “Just a little…,” he heard the treacherous voice in his mind. “Just this once… give in! You hear it, don’t you? How okay it is!”

He fought the trembling in his limbs, the shaking in his fingers. “I… I don’t want this.”

“But you must,” Felix’s insistent voice came again. The gladiator tolerated no disobedience.

Demetri pushed the human closer to Carlisle. The young man trembled and began to cry. It was absolutely degrading in Carlisle’s eyes…

“Please…,” the mortal breathed. “I don’t know what this is… please don’t hurt me…”

Carlisle’s gaze clouded, and he sank in on himself. He felt the darkness rise within him – that hot, greedy thing that knew nothing but hunger, desire, and craving.

Felix whispered in his ear. “Either you drink, or we will. But if you refuse, there will be consequences.”

Carlisle closed his eyes. His jaw tensed. He wanted to run. Scream. Die. But the monster… was louder. It wanted to drink too. It wanted to tear. It wanted to kill. It wanted to become one with the beast.

And then… he reached out.

His hands gripped the mortal’s shoulders as gently as possible, but still with that iron strength that came with his kind. He surrendered to the monster. The fight had been too hard, the voice too seductive.

“I’m sorry,” Carlisle whispered, as his teeth flashed.

The scream was short. Then came silence. And then there was only the pulsing of blood in his mouth and the gurgling sound.

A part of him prayed that it wouldn’t taste good. That he would gag, be repulsed. But it was warm. It tasted divine, like ambrosia, and he felt as if his body were filled with a blissful delight! The liquid gold, it was intoxicating and invigorating at once! It caressed his senses, soothed his pain, filled him completely… it was ecstatic! A truly divine symphony that almost made him cry out with joy! The sound of death and euphoria!

But soon, the liquid gold turned to leaden tar.

When he finally tore himself away—too early, too late, he didn’t know—his face was soaked with tears. Bloody tears of shame and guilt. They weren’t the tears of his victim. They were his own.

He sank to his knees. The human’s empty body lay beside him. Carlisle stared at his own hands as if they didn’t belong to him. He was both disgusted and intoxicated. He wanted to tear himself in half, so deeply at odds he was with himself.

Demetri, however, clapped him on the shoulder. “Not bad. Next time, you won’t cry.”

Felix nodded. “You’re one of us.”

Carlisle wasn’t so sure. He felt hollow. Less than human. More than a monster. But… maybe that was right? Was he meant to be a monster? No! How could he even think that?!

He could feel something breaking deep inside him. It was barely audible, yet painfully loud. He could feel the last shred of belief in himself shatter.

~✾~

The chambers of the masters lay in deep darkness, broken only by the golden-red glow of the fire dancing in a recessed bowl on the wall. The room smelled of sandalwood, parchment, and fresh blood. On a small table stood two crystal glasses, both filled to the brim with a thick, precious, ruby-red liquid of life.

The human who had given his life for this had been of advanced age. A truly noble vintage, then, which the mind reader had chosen specifically for his beloved.

Aro sat in a massive chair made of dark wood, one leg casually crossed over the other, as he took one of the glasses into his hands. The fire danced in his crimson eyes. He looked as if he had stepped out of an old painting: noble, spiritual, and eternal. But in his gaze burned an ember that could not sleep. An eternal ember of madness and unrest...

The door opened quietly. Sulpicia entered, and his eyes found her silhouette immediately.

She wore a simple but flawless dress, flowing in soft, dusty-rose lines over her silhouette. Her gait was calm and controlled, yet Aro sensed the tension in every movement. She smelled the blood—unsurprising. It filled the entire room, just as he had intended.

"Dearest," he said with that flattering warmth in his voice that sounded like a kiss and yet cut through the air like a blade. "I am so pleased to see you."

Sulpicia stopped. Her gaze fell instantly upon the glasses. Her body tensed. The mind reader followed her too-dark eyes and then lightly lifted the glass in his hand.

"It’s fresh and warm. Smell how glorious it is… I chose an older vintage. Just for you. For us." He tilted his head, a dark smile on his lips. "I thought it would do us good." And that wasn’t even a lie. Aro wanted her to feel well… to nourish herself. And he never tired of trying to get her to drink more blood.

Sulpicia did not step closer. Her eyes gleamed with guilt and love. Her voice was quiet but firm: "Thank you, but I do not intend to drink tonight." There was concern in her tone, worry that her words might enrage him. But what weighed more was the pain in her throat as the scent settled deeper and deeper inside her.

Aro’s eyes widened, as if he had foreseen that reaction. He rose, circled her like a predator, and then spoke softly: "Not yet," while setting the glass down again. "But perhaps… when you realize how alive it makes you feel…"

She said nothing, only closed her eyes in pain for a moment. She knew what he was attempting. It wasn’t the first time he had tried something like this.

Gently, he brushed a strand of hair over her shoulder, sending a tingle down her skin. She didn’t want to hurt or offend him. But he already knew that...

His movements, as always, were elegant and graceful, but tonight, there was something smoldering in them. Something… tender. Dangerous. A new component to his game.

"Why do you deny what you are?" He was close now—too close. His voice a dark whisper, and she could hear the passion in it. She knew how intoxicating it could be to share human blood. It was a sign of connection. Of love. A form of affection she could not give him.

The guilt inside her grew.

"This life—it is not only duty and control. It is ecstasy. It is power," Aro continued. His hand glided gently down her arm, barely noticeable, but electrifying. It left another shiver on her skin. "Why should you not taste it? Why should you not enjoy it?"

Sulpicia’s breath was shallow. "Because pleasure at the cost of other lives weakens me. It does not strengthen me," she whispered. "You know that, my love."

"Ah, my sweetheart," whispered the immortal with a trace of sadness in his voice. He lifted the second glass, held it out to her like a love poem—and almost as if he were proposing to her once again. "Just one sip. Only one. You needn’t give up anything. No vow, no control."

He stepped behind her, lifted the glass to her lips without touching her. And yet she moved toward it, almost mechanically.

"You’re so beautiful when you live. When the blood lights up your eyes…" His words were hoarse, almost guttural, and she could feel the desire radiating from him with utter clarity.

She wanted him too. But only him. Not the blood.

Or… did she?

The mistress closed her eyes with a trembling breath.

A drop ran over the rim of the glass and touched her lower lip.

All her senses were instantly electrified, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to tear the chalice from his hand. Oh, it tasted so delicious! A true symphony! And her throat screamed for more…

"You are my queen," Aro whispered at her ear. "I want you to be strong. Proud. Free in yourself. Not weak from hunger. Not weary from denial."

She had taken a single sip. No more. The glorious orchestra pulsed immediately through her veins, screaming at her to believe Aro’s words and take more! Sulpicia opened her eyes and slowly turned to him. She forced herself desperately to remain composed.

He held out the glass, and her hand closed mechanically around it. His eyes followed every one of her reactions intently.

Slowly—with the dignity of a priestess—she raised it again to her lips. And took another sip. A fine tremble ran through her body. The blood was warm, intoxicating, and heavy. She wanted more! Oh, she wanted so infinitely much more!

Aro’s gaze darkened with desire. Not merely physical—it was deeper. It was the triumph of knowing she was his in that moment. The triumph of elevating her to her true strength, as he saw it. The triumph that he had been right and that she merely needed to be forced into happiness!

And silently, he hoped that one day—if only he tried often enough—she would recognize what he was trying to show her, and how wonderful and fulfilling a blood frenzy could be!

Sulpicia finally lowered the glass carefully. A narrow drop still wet her lips. A single drop, which she saved to savor the taste a little longer.

Aro stepped closer, lifted her hand, and kissed her fingers, then her chin. Slowly, he lifted it.

Her gaze averted in shame. But his fingers remained gentle and unrelenting.

"I love you for your will," he said quietly. "And I swear, I will not take it from you."

Then he kissed her. Gently at first. Then more urgently. His lips found hers, tasting the blood that still lingered there. The last drop, which she could now taste on him… She leaned into it. Tasted him—and the blood. This kiss was more than tenderness. It was a claim, a certain dominance, and she realized with desperation that she had once again grown weak in his arms.

Sulpicia set down the glass and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning deeper into the immortal embrace. She knew why he had done it, why he always drove her to it again and again. She knew Aro was worried. And she knew Aro wanted to feel with her what it meant to be immortal.

She wanted to give it to him! By all the gods, she wanted to feel it too! The frenzy, the lust, the desire, and the release… and yet she couldn’t help but feel guilty deep in her heart.

He heard those thoughts…

When they parted, Sulpicia breathed heavily. Her gaze was both empty and full. A contradiction she had carried within herself for centuries, never once winning.

Aro stroked her cheek knowingly. His gaze full of compassion, yet clouded by desire and love for this woman. He wanted her, precisely because she had such immense self-control. He knew he could never be as strong as she was… and yet he wasn’t sure if it truly was strength…

Because in his view, to nourish oneself and embrace existence in all its forms was true strength. Decadence and ecstasy! That was what he lived for!

He held her at the waist, as if to prevent her from vanishing again. As if to keep her from breaking.

"I just want you to live," he whispered. "As I do."

Sulpicia said nothing more, but she lowered her gaze. Her hands remained on his shirt and his chest. Firm enough not to fall.

Aro still held her, his forehead resting against hers. He needed no words. Her thoughts lay open before him: clear, painful, and beautiful in their contradiction.

"I want to be good. I want to belong to him. I want to be strong. Not hungry. Not weak. I love him. I love him… But I lose myself if I give myself to him completely. And yet… I am only whole when I am with him."

Sulpicia trembled slightly. Her thoughts were like sung prayers. A chorus of love, guilt, and longing. Aro closed his eyes and sank into her, without interrupting her.

"I know…" she finally whispered. Her voice was raw with emotion. "I know… and I love you for it. For how much you always worry about me."

She tilted her head slightly and bit her lip.

"You are all I have. All that holds me. And yet…" She broke off, but her thoughts continued. "Why is it not enough that I simply am?"

Aro inhaled sharply. The pain in her struck him deeper than any words ever could. They always circled the same theme.

"I hear you," he murmured. "I hear you… and I understand more than you think."

He was telling the truth… or at least what he believed to be true.

Sulpicia lifted her head. Tears glittered in her dark eyes. Bloody tears of inner conflict. And then there was no more distance between them. She closed the gap—with a step, with a breath—and kissed him again.

She threw herself into the sensation. He was not gentle this time, not restrained. He was raw, full of desperation, full of longing for redemption. For closeness. For forgetting.

The Roman pressed herself against him, as if she wanted to dissolve into his existence, to become one with the darkness she so deeply feared and yet so deeply loved. Aro’s hands wove into her hair, down her back, her waist. His lips found hers again and again, as though their touch alone could heal the divide between them.

Between kisses, she whispered: "I want to be the woman you deserve… But I also want to stay myself… I don’t know if I can be both…"

Aro held her tighter, increased the pressure.

"You are everything," he breathed. "In your strength. In your doubt. I want all of it. All of you."

They kissed again. This time deeper, slower. And the blood between them, which they could both still taste, lay upon them like a mantle of guilt and longing alike.

Their movements grew more urgent. His hands found their way beneath the silky dress. Her fingers buried themselves in the fabric of his shirt. It was not a pure union. It was an escape—into each other, from each other. Two beings lost in eternity, feeling only when they touched.

When at last they lay together—skin to skin, breath to breath—the moment was quieter than ever before. Sulpicia held his hand. Her gaze was soft and fulfilled, yet laced with distant pain.

"Let me remain strong, Aro," she whispered. "Even when I grow weak with you."

Aro kissed her forehead gently. "Then be weak only with me, my love. And strong for the world. That is all I ask of you."

She closed her eyes. And wished it would be enough.

“You got me sippin' on something
I can't compare to nothing
I've ever known, I'm hoping
That after this fever I'll survive

I know I'm acting a bit crazy
Strung out, a little bit hazy
Hand over heart, I'm praying
That I'm gonna make it out alive”

(The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez)

~✾~

The moon stood high in the sky above Volterra, and the bluish shimmering light found its way here and there through the dense canopy of cypresses, ancient laurel trees, and pines that arched over the castle garden like a green, majestic vault.

Weathered statues gazed with mute, lifeless eyes upon the moss-covered cobblestones, as if guarding the guilt of those who once walked beneath their gaze. Calm and dignified. Shadows and ghosts of fallen guards, as Carlisle had been told… Felix had spoken of his fallen friends with reverence and had proudly remarked that he too would one day join that Guard of Silence.

Muted blows echoed through the hedges — the dull thud of training. Fabric rustled, bodies collided, heavy panting hung in the air. As did the steady scent of fresh blood… The guards were certainly not left to starve, which was hard for Carlisle to endure.

Not that he didn’t want the blood. But he despised himself for that very desire.

He stood deliberately apart, hands calmly clasped behind his back, posture disciplined. But his thoughts were restless. He had needed a break, a moment of reflection. A moment away from temptation and the shame of his animalistic urges.

He admired the guard for their control, their discipline, and their grace, yet with every dull impact he heard, that old, painful unease rose within him. How naturally they surrendered to violence! How willingly they killed when ordered to! How readily they took lives and spilled blood…

He could barely push the images from his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

A soft sound cut through the scene, drawing his attention. A barely audible rustle on gravel. Carlisle turned abruptly, startled. He felt caught in his moment of calm! Would he be reprimanded for straying from the others?!

But before him, Mistress Sulpicia stepped out from between two cypresses. Light and graceful, with a kindness in her dark brown eyes that immediately softened his dead heart.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall silent as the Englishman beheld her.

A pale blue gown clung to her beautiful body, shimmering almost silver in the half-shadow. Captured moonlight running down her silhouette as if it didn’t wish to harm the precious treasure beneath — or so he thought. The liquid gold of her dark blonde hair flowed over her right shoulder and exposed the other… she looked truly breathtaking.

The vampire had to swallow and almost dropped to his knees before such beauty and elegance.

“Carlisle Cullen,” he heard her say. Soft and low, yet with a clarity that overpowered even the clamor of battle.

He immediately bowed politely and shyly, suppressing the unwelcome flutter in his chest. She must have noticed him staring…

“Mistress Sulpicia,” he replied in a quiet, reverent voice.

A faint smile played on her lips, equal parts polite and cool. “If you have a moment, would you keep me company? For a small walk?” she asked gently, and it truly sounded as though she feared he might refuse.

How absurd!

Carlisle nodded at once — perhaps too quickly — and followed her along a narrow path winding through an alley of wild rosemary. The sounds of combat faded instantly like a distant nightmare. What remained was only the whisper of leaves in the wind, and his uncertainty and youth, which he now felt far too acutely.

He wondered why she wanted to speak to him alone. Did she want to reprimand him? For what he felt when she was near? Or… had she felt the attraction too? That sudden sense of two souls connected?

For in recent weeks he had cast her countless secret glances — always when he thought no one was watching. Her presence was always palpable to him, and he had begun to catch snatches of conversations among the other guards whenever they spoke of the Mistress…

He had picked up much more than he should have.

For although she was always spoken of with reverence and awe, whispers of doubt, concern, and skepticism still mingled with the praise. Voices that wondered whether her way of life could truly be healthy…

And that was what had made Carlisle even more attentive.

They walked side by side in silence for a while. The path felt like a separate cosmos, cut off from the rest of the world and yet full of unspoken truths. He feverishly wondered if he dared to speak of them. He had so many questions!

The Mistress lived largely abstinent, they said. She only fed when absolutely necessary… he longed to understand why!

He inhaled deeply and exhaled.

Far from the fighting, it was a peaceful night. Even the chirping of crickets had begun as they walked farther away. From the hill where the castle stood, there was a spectacular view over the vast and beautiful Tuscan landscape! It all looked so idyllic, so peaceful… nothing hinted that creatures of the night made mischief here.

At last, it was Sulpicia who broke the silence.

“How are you finding your time with us, dear friend?” she asked, without looking at him.

Carlisle was surprised by the term “friend.” But Aro had used it the same way… it seemed to be a common turn of phrase. Perhaps a byproduct of their Italian roots, though she now spoke flawless English with him.

“Friend”… it sounded so familiar! With Aro, the words had sounded false. Like a rehearsed phrase. With her, it was different… somehow warmer and more sincere.

He hesitated briefly, then replied, “Thank you. I… I’m well. I admire the Volturi — their order, their wisdom. And it’s good to see that our kind can be more than mere hunger for blood. The training is instructive. Only…”

He faltered. How much should he say? Should he test his theory about their connection? Or would it be wiser to remain silent? Perhaps Aro had sent her? Perhaps she was meant to test his resolve? She couldn’t possibly be here just to speak with him! She couldn’t possibly… have genuine interest in him?!

Sulpicia stopped walking. The wind played with a strand of her hair, which she didn’t brush back. Her profile was calm, almost motionless, but her ancient, knowing eyes rested attentively on him.

“I’ve noticed that you always hold back… when it comes to feeding, I mean.” Her words were neither harsh nor cold. They were full of compassion.

Carlisle sighed quietly and looked up, searching her dark brown eyes for something calculating. But there was nothing. Only empathy.

“So that hasn’t escaped your notice…” he tried to evade.

“If you allow it, I’d like to set formalities aside.” The Mistress gently raised her hand. “You may call me Sulpicia.”

He smiled hesitantly and in disbelief, as a tingling ran through his limbs. What a concession! None of the other guards addressed one of the masters by their first name alone! Was this a good sign? He couldn’t say. It certainly had its effect, for the warmth Carlisle had already felt now spread further through his heart, making him feel he could confide in her.

The fluttering in his stomach intensified.

“Well I… I find it difficult to come to terms with the vampire existence,” he began vaguely, watching as the Mistress’s eyes began to glow with understanding. That compassionate passion gave him the final push, and he added, “I… I don’t want to take lives. Killing repels me so deeply! I know I’m supposed to enjoy it, but I simply can’t!” He lowered his gaze. A confession that fell from his shoulders with leaden weight. “...It’s as if I’m constantly fighting a beast within me. No, beast is the wrong word… a monster! And too often I lose!”

Without realizing it, his steps had grown more forceful. The subject burdened him so deeply, and only when the vampire woman gently placed a hand on his shoulder did he notice how emotionally shaken he had become.

“Carlisle…” Sulpicia’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of centuries of longing. “Carlisle, I understand all too well what you’re feeling.”

The hand on his shoulder was fire and ice at once. Dead and yet alive.

He looked up, surprised. What was she saying? He had suspected as much, but to hear the words from her mouth was… strangely moving.

Sulpicia lowered her hand and placed it before her body into the other. Unnecessarily, she too now inhaled and exhaled deeply and added, “Ever since I became an immortal, I have been searching for ways to come to terms with myself and my existence.” Almost as if the moment had finally come for her to unburden her soul and ease her conscience.

Before him!

Carlisle looked at her completely surprised and shocked at the same time. He had not expected this from Aro Volturi’s companion! What danger was she putting herself in by speaking so openly to him now?! It was… unexpected, and yet exceedingly beautiful at the same time.

She didn’t look at him, but her voice carried a deep, brittle truth as she continued – her gaze directed into the infinity of Tuscany: “It is a heavy fate to be an immortal monster in a world full of mortals.”

Monster… she said monster too!

“Yes… that’s exactly what it is!” the Englishman replied euphorically.

That made her fix her gaze on him again, and silently they looked at each other for several seconds. Both exposed and full of shame before their own truth. Their own, supposed weakness.

“No one has understood that until now,” the mistress whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible, and then smiled.

Carlisle’s eyes also shone. The compassion and grief for the emotional scourge she clearly felt just as he did overwhelmed him. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, stroke her silken hair, and whisper to her that everything would soon be alright. That he would protect her. Forever. From the cruelty of the world and from the cruelty they both carried within themselves.

But everything would not be alright. They would remain as they were forever. And the thirst would never disappear.

“Your eyes are always dark brown,” he remarked instead. “Not blood red, like the others’.” It seemed unnecessary to point out the obvious, and yet he had to be sure. He wanted to know more about her! More about her thoughts, her motivations, her innermost being…

“Yes, that’s true. I only feed to meet my basic need.” She lowered her gaze humbly and guiltily again, thinking of all the times she had crossed that line and drunk more than she had wanted to. “I don’t want to waste a life. Not if it’s not necessary.”

“That is extraordinary…” Carlisle struggled for words. Not just because she was like him, but because she had practiced self-control for so many centuries and apparently still won the battle with herself! “It is noble.”

Sulpicia lifted her gaze and her eyes sparkled with gratitude for his words. She had had a feeling that Carlisle would understand her, but she had never imagined how painfully necessary that affirming approval truly was for her. Aro tolerated her way of life, yes… but he had never really understood her.

Her lips twitched almost imperceptibly. In her eyes shone an expression he couldn’t decipher – sadness perhaps, or hope? Possibly both.

“It is difficult to find a way between what we are and what we wish to be,” she said finally, with the authority of a queen.

Carlisle remained silent. For she spoke aloud what he had never dared to say. He could only look at her, surprised by the honesty in her voice.

“I try not to forget,” she whispered. “Not who I once was. Not what I believed. And also not… who I become when I give in to bloodlust.”

For the first time since he had been here, she no longer seemed like the wife of a king, but like a woman who wrestled with herself every single day.

Carlisle’s voice was a whisper as he finally asked: “How do you bear it? The constant struggle with yourself?” Because the fact that she could gave him hope! Perhaps he too could manage what she had already accomplished for so long! She was proof that it could be possible!

That the mind was stronger than the craving…

Sulpicia smiled faintly and ran her fingers over the needle-like leaves of the rosemary beside her. “You need a reason,” she said. “You need something greater than the pain. Greater than the desire.”

Carlisle absorbed each of her words like a man dying of thirst. Her scent swirled around him with every breeze that tossed her hair, and he inhaled it eagerly. He wondered what that reason might be for her… but it seemed too personal and indiscreet to ask, so he left it for now.

The silence between them at that moment was heavy and full of anticipation. It was not affection, not desire… but something much more dangerous. It was a deep, pain-laden understanding of the other person. And that would soon become their undoing. For Sulpicia too wondered whether she might have found a kindred soul in him…

Carlisle turned away and breathed shallowly. Deep down, he knew: whatever had begun today, it would either save him or tear him apart completely. He felt clearly how his feelings for this vampire woman were growing with every second.

“I myself,” she continued, “have also imposed on myself to moderate as much as possible. It is… my way of fighting against forgetting.”

“Forgetting?” Carlisle repeated. He didn’t quite understand how this differed from her earlier statement.

She nodded. Apparently she had been prepared to explain.

“The forgetting of who I once was. What I believed. What I wanted to stand for.” Her voice became even quieter, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. “It is my duty to myself. To… a better possibility. To me, power does not mean ecstasy, but moderation. The discipline to control oneself, no matter how difficult it is.”

She had known of Aro’s immortality before he turned her. And she had imagined how her high ideals would influence the world… The only thing she had overlooked was how much the world would have to bleed because of her existence… with all the lives she took. It had taken her a very long time to come to terms with what she had become, and since then she had lived in a way that caused the least possible harm – or so she told herself.

Carlisle remained silent again for a moment. Something in her words, in the earnest sadness of her eyes, touched him more deeply than he could comprehend. Why was she revealing herself to him in this way? Did she want to make the situation more bearable for him? Or was she – like him – simply searching for humanity among all the monsters?

“But… how do you manage it?” he finally asked again. “How can you resist when the thirst screams so loudly? When the burning in your throat literally consumes you?”

Sulpicia smiled sadly. “There is no special trick. You simply endure it. Sometimes it doesn’t work but often the memory of why I try is enough.”

She had seen how much Carlisle had tormented himself while drinking and could feel that he needed help. She had been present when the other guards spoke of Carlisle’s refusal to surrender to his nature. And she had felt compassion for him. Empathy.

Carlisle absorbed each of her words as if they were water in an endless desert. His heart – or what was left of it – beat in an unsteady rhythm.

“Since I became immortal, I have never met another being who understands my torment so deeply!” he said reverently. No one had ever seen the abyss within him and not immediately recoiled!

The admiration he felt for Sulpicia deepened into something warmer, more pressing. Something that made his throat dry and his thoughts stray down dangerous paths.

He looked away, fought against the rising heat in his cheeks. What was he imagining? Sulpicia belonged to Aro. She was unattainable! A star that a speck of dust like him was not allowed to touch. And yet… Her very existence proved that purity was possible. That hope in their kind was not necessarily a delusion! This would be the beginning of his downfall. Or of his salvation. Either way, he was incapable of staying away from her.

“Secrets I have held in my heart
Are harder to hide than I thought
Maybe I just wanna be yours
I wanna be yours”

(I Wann Be Yours - Sofia Karlberg)

~✾~

The days in the castle of Volterra drifted by like sluggish mist. For most of its residents, they were an endless repetition of training, audiences, and duty. But for Carlisle Cullen, each of these days meant something different. An opportunity, a doom, a renewed surrender to his vampiric urges – or the strength to rise above them.

But most of all, each new day meant a new hope. The hope of speaking with her again, of spending time with her.

Since that first walk with Mistress Sulpicia, a quiet agreement had settled between the two of them. Without words, without any direct arrangement. Only a mutual understanding, an unspoken need for exchange about a world beyond blood and obligation.

They met almost daily by chance in the more secluded parts of the castle gardens – where the high walls shielded both sun and eyes, and the herbs grew more wildly than elsewhere. Here, beneath ancient trees, their conversations took place.

And Carlisle noticed how his undead heart tightened painfully each day she failed to appear...

But today was not one of those days. Today they were sitting on a stone bench, half hidden under an arbor of ivy. The scent of sage and rosemary hung heavy in the air, as it often did. It was so easy to grow used to it...

Sulpicia, as always, carried herself with quiet grace. Her gaze was watchful, her voice gentle. Tonight, she wore a lavender-colored dress, and her golden-blond hair was braided elegantly in a crown around her head. There was something almost playful about it.

Once again, the vampire couldn't help but notice how effortlessly she radiated beauty and dignity. Her voice and elfin face were balm to him, for if he was honest with himself, he did not feel at ease within these cold walls and as part of the Volturi Guard... This way of living out vampirism, of justifying murder, went against every fiber of his being.

“You seem very troubled today, Carlisle,” said Sulpicia softly, as she turned a fallen leaf between her graceful fingers. Of course, she had noticed…

He forced a smile, but she was not deceived. Mistress Sulpicia had this ability to see through people – and vampires – without ever making them feel exposed. Entirely contrary to the unpleasant sensation that always accompanied it whenever Master Aro took information from someone’s mind.

Carlisle sighed quietly. “I… find it more difficult than I expected,” he admitted. “To moderate myself on the one hand, and indulge the bloodlust on the other. To know that…” He searched for words. “That the thirst will never disappear. That no matter how hard I try, it only sleeps from time to time. And that I really ought to… well, embrace it, instead of demonizing it.”

Sulpicia nodded slowly, as if she had fought exactly this inner battle countless times herself. She knew the endless weighing back and forth he carried within. She had never found a truly ‘healthy’ middle ground either. Her mind seemed to know only black or white – total shutdown of morality, or total abstinence.

Because if she ever allowed herself even the illusion of moderation or control, she would find herself, a few days later, once again surrounded by bloodless bodies...Too often it had been that way. Too often had she succumbed to her urges...

She herself did not know how other vampires – like her husband – managed to find some kind of balance. Blood was always and everywhere accessible. And surrendering to the intoxication was so unspeakably tempting! Everything in her body screamed at her to finally give in!

And precisely because she could never find a middle ground, she had decided to choose one of the two extremes. Did that make her strong? Possibly. In the eyes of many vampires, however, it made her weak – she knew that.

“Tell me, is there nothing at all that can lift this burden from us?” Carlisle shook his head in near despair.

“I’m afraid not,” she replied quietly. “I’ve imposed every possible rule of moderation upon myself, but in the end, they always led to the same result. I even considered animal blood, but it didn’t satisfy my true thirst.” She smiled at him. “The only fascinating side effect was my golden eyes during that time.”

Carlisle frowned. “Golden?” To him, the idea didn’t sound so far-fetched! Killing an animal instead of a human – that might be a solution! After all, humans consumed meat as well! “That doesn’t sound bad to me at all. Isn’t the blood just as nourishing?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not what we truly need, and so our bodies demand much more of it than they would of human blood. Besides...” She looked thoughtfully into the distance for a moment. “In the end, it’s all the same – human or animal: we take a life either way. And whether several animal lives are better than one human life remains questionable. Life is life.”

That statement would occupy Carlisle for a long time to come.

Because this time, he did not entirely agree with the Mistress’s views... Even in his human days, he had valued animal life far less – and still did. Simply because he had been socialized that way. Human life stood above animal life. That’s just how it was, and he had never questioned it.

“It gets easier,” Sulpicia said finally, noticing the frown on his face. “Not because the thirst fades. But because you learn not to see it as your enemy.” She turned her gaze toward an old olive tree, its branches swaying in the wind and the darkness of night. “It is a part of us. But it doesn’t have to rule us.”

“How do you mean that? How am I not to see the thirst as an enemy, when that’s exactly what it is?” The vampire furrowed his brow, but Sulpicia’s gaze became sharp and clear.

“No, Carlisle, it is not! The thirst lies in our vampiric nature. A constant we cannot change. If we acknowledge that we are powerless against it – that we cannot help but become ‘weak’ again and again – then that creates humility. Humility before our inner demons. Humility before what we are.” Her dark eyes gleamed with an unspoken longing to surrender to those very demons. “And only from that posture can we begin to make strong choices – and take a stand for ourselves and for life.”

Carlisle listened to her words as though listening to a sermon in a church. Something in her voice – that unobtrusive conviction, that simple truth – touched something within him he had long believed lost.

“How... did you learn it?” he asked quietly.

“By admitting to myself that perfection is an illusion. But striving for something better. That is what saves us.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I want to be more than just the mindless monster that I am by nature.”

That such a seemingly pure being as Sulpicia referred to herself as a monster made the Englishman feel a deep sadness. How could she not see what he saw? Why couldn’t she see the empathy, the reflectiveness, the tremendous inner strength within herself?

And why… couldn’t he see the same within himself?

Carlisle’s hands, resting loosely on his knees, involuntarily clenched into fists. How deeply he wished to find that kind of strength within himself! How much he admired this woman, who displayed far greater courage by refusing and not only allowing pain, but enduring it!

His gaze drifted furtively down her body, though he didn’t want it to. Over her profile, softly framed by the light of the moon. Over the gentleness in her features, which stood in such stark contrast to the harshness of this world and the harshness she imposed upon herself.

How much he wanted to hold her hand in that moment! How much he wanted to hold her! Tightly embraced, knowing they could face the challenge of restraint together …

A forbidden thought rose within him before he could suppress it: How much better would he suit her than Aro? …

He was sure Aro adored her too, but: He wouldn’t only admire her, he would understand her. He wouldn’t try to force her, mold her, break her or make her into something she was not.

Carlisle inhaled sharply and forced himself to look away.

What an absurd, dangerous idea! Sulpicia was Aro’s mate. A queen, bound by centuries of loyalty.

And he was… nothing. A blind fool tempted in the presence of a goddess. He briefly closed his eyes, forced his thoughts into order. He had to redirect them—had to somehow manage to hide them from Aro as best he could. Even though that was impossible…

Under no circumstances could he allow him to touch him again!

A rather illusory notion.

“Thank you,” he murmured once he could speak again. “For your wisdom and your patience. And also for your company tonight.”

Sulpicia tilted her head slightly, observing him for a moment. Then she nodded, almost imperceptibly, as if she herself harbored a thought that made her hesitate.

Was she thinking of him too, the way he was thinking of her?

“It’s easier to help when you’ve once been lost yourself,” was all she said.

Her words echoed for a long time as they slowly stood and walked back toward the castle in silence, each haunted by their own demons, quieter now, but no less deadly as they gnawed at their souls.

And high above, hidden in one of the towers, a pair of red eyes followed their every move. Cold, watchful, and increasingly unsettled. Apparently, the harsh trials Master Aro had imposed on the Englishman as part of his guard training had not been enough to put him in his place…

Renata would have to report to her master once more.

~✾~

The hours Carlisle spent with Sulpicia soon became a place of escape. A place where he didn’t have to fight. Didn’t have to hate. Just… be. He could truly let go with her and simply be himself. Completely free from constraint.

Sulpicia soon began to tell him about her past life as a slave in ancient Rome, and how Aro had first made it worse and then rescued her… Soon after, Carlisle spoke about himself and laid his heart bare before her, along with the grief he carried over his lost human life.

The flutter in his stomach grew stronger whenever she leaned toward him, laughing and he could feel that she, too, was opening up more and more with each day they spent together.

And yet, something invisible weighed on his shoulders. Something that grew heavier with every furtive glance, every unspoken word. He knew he couldn’t stay in this place forever. Couldn’t remain part of the guard. This existence wasn’t the solution for him.

But maybe… just maybe she would come with him?

Maybe the two of them could start a new life, far from the walls of this castle?

Over the past weeks, he had become so immersed and enamored with the idea that he now believed it might truly be possible. He only needed the right atmosphere to ask her—or at least, he hoped such a moment would present itself.

And in his effort to give something back to her, he had arranged something special.

That evening, Carlisle sat alone on the bench beneath the old cedar tree they had silently chosen as their meeting spot. The air was heavy with the scent of blossoms opening at dusk. He turned a small, delicate bundle of fresh rosemary between his fingers. He had carefully tied it with a strip of fine linen, cut from one of his shirts.

A meager gift, perhaps. But he knew she would appreciate its simplicity.

Spread out before him was a blanket with a few carefully chosen books on it. Books that all bore floral titles instead of an actual bouquet of flowers.*

He had personally selected them from the castle library and sincerely hoped the gesture would please her. He so desperately wanted to give her something! Something that wasn’t about power, wasn’t about duty. Something real, that spoke of compassion. For all the words she had gifted him, for the hope she had rekindled in him, for the strength she returned to him without ever demanding it. And for all the understanding she showed him.

He heard the light steps on the gravel long before she reached him. Gracefully wrapped in a mint-colored gown. Her hair loose, with only a few strands braided.

Carlisle rose hastily, almost dropping the bundle, but just managed to catch it. He was nervous. Nervous that his gesture might reveal something he felt that she did not share.

Then it would truly be over!

“Carlisle, what …?” Sulpicia asked in disbelief, glancing at the ground. Her eyes fell on the book arrangement and she read the titles. Dandelions, Camilla, A Garland of Roses, The Narcissus, Hyacinth.

“I hoped these flowers would bring you joy,” he said, gesturing to the books and immediately searching her eyes to gauge her reaction. “I… wanted to give you something in return—for all your time and the conversations.”

“This isn’t a trade,” she said, smiling, her gaze still fixed on the floral books in front of her. All but one she had already read, but he didn’t need to know that. She was deeply touched by his gesture and would surely have blushed if she were still capable of such a thing. Incredible, the gift this young man had given her! “I don’t ask anything in return. I enjoy our conversations just as much as you do.”

Carlisle handed her the small rosemary bouquet with an apologetic smile and watched, fascinated, as Sulpicia regarded the little bundle as if it were a precious gemstone.

Slowly, she accepted it. Her fingers brushed against his. Barely noticeable but it was as if a spark ran through his entire being.

She held the bundle to her face, breathed in the scent deeply and briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, there was an expression in her gaze that made it hard for Carlisle to breathe: gratitude. Sadness. Tenderness.

"I... always feel so understood in your presence," he began, encouraged by all the emotions that seemed almost tangible between them. "And I have the feeling it’s the same for you."

“Carlisle…” she began, but the words stuck to her lips. She wanted to stop him, but at the same time she didn’t.

Oh no, what had she done!

“What? Do you want to deny that it’s so? It was you who spoke to me because you saw that we share the same soul’s pain.” His eyes began to glow with passion, which did not escape her notice. It was beautiful and cruel at the same time.

“Yes… indeed. There is no one else here who…” She hesitated and carefully arranged her words. “…shares my pain.”

Aro would see all of this. Not in her mind, she would make sure of that. But in his, it would be visible. She had to choose her words extremely carefully!

“You wouldn’t have to feel it alone…” Carlisle whispered and carefully took a step closer. Weighing whether she would back away ... but she didn’t. Her eyes only shimmered. As if she herself were unsure what she actually wanted.

And Carlisle had to think about how uninhibited Aro had been when he first met him. How open in his sexual desire and how free… and he wondered whether he granted his mate that same freedom. Something in him told him that he did not.

It had to be the infatuation he felt that made him careless and blind to the possible consequences of his actions…

“Carlisle, I…” she whispered again, this time full of guilt.

Sulpicia was very much aware of his feelings, and from the beginning, it had been a fine line and a game with fire. But she had so enjoyed Carlisle’s company! So longed for his closeness and his understanding! And she too had indulged in the fantasies of what it might be like to be close to him…

To be united with a soul whose pain mirrored her own…

Carlisle didn’t know exactly what was driving him. Perhaps it was the pleading in her gaze, begging him to take the first step.

The world around him suddenly fell silent, and between them, every barrier in his mind disappeared that he had previously still seen. There was no castle anymore, no duty, no royal, all-knowing mate.

Only him. Only her.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he stepped even closer.

His hand lifted, as if on its own, and brushed a golden strand from her face. His fingers trembled as they touched her skin. So cool, so alive. And he noticed how her eyes shyly followed his movements. As if she were made of glass and feared being shattered by him.

What they were about to do here was forbidden. They both knew it!

Sulpicia inhaled quietly. Her eyes, those boundless mirrors of pain and hope, searched his.

For an endless moment, they stood there. Too close, too open.

Carlisle’s gaze drifted to her lips. He felt the irresistible pull, the need to lean in closer, to free her forehead, her cheek, her mouth from all suffering with a single kiss.

And he saw, for a shimmering heartbeat, the echo of the same longing in her eyes.

The immortal blood in his veins froze.

He leaned in—

But at that very moment, Sulpicia lowered her gaze.

She didn’t step back. She didn’t retreat. But she lowered her eyes, closed them, and held the little rosemary bundle to her heart as if it were a shield.

Carlisle froze. A wave of shame, despair, and love washed over him. He exhaled heavily, but then immediately took a step back.

Sulpicia opened her eyes and looked at him sadly, and it said far more than any ‘no’. He had not lost her. But he had never truly possessed her either. Not in this world. Not in this time. Not as long as she was who she was.

Her rejection protected not only herself, but also him. He knew that.

Sulpicia smiled faintly, reached out her hand, and lightly touched his fingertips. A gesture full of silent affection, full of a plea for forgiveness for what might have been but could never be.

“I’m sorry… I can’t… I…” The pain in her eyes made him swallow. “I can’t do this, forgive me.” Then she turned away. And Carlisle stood there, hand half-raised, while she hurried into the shadows of the night.

So he remained alone. Alone with the scent of rosemary and a love that had not even begun, yet had already destroyed everything inside him.

“I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognize your beauty′s not just a mask
I want to exorcise the demons from your past
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart”

(Undisclosed Desires - Muse)

~✾~

Sulpicia ran.

The mint green dress fluttered behind her like a startled butterfly. She had taken off her shoes, her bare feet brushing silently over gravel, grass, moss, and stone. The garden of Volterra, usually a place of peace and contemplation, blurred around her into a labyrinth of shadows and memory.

Her thoughts were a storm. How had it come to this? How had she allowed something within her to begin craving so deeply what could never be hers?

She felt her chest rise and fall, though she needed no breath. Her body seemed to remember, even after all these centuries, what it meant to be human. The pain, the gasping one felt when the heart seemed about to shatter.

Aro... His name burned in her full of guilt. An old fire, full of depth, full of love, full of devotion and full of memories.

Carlisle... His gaze, his voice, his gesture... everything inside her cried out for him, though she didn’t want it. Though she mustn’t. She had already known it the very first time she had approached him. It had been so gentle, almost innocent... a soul that seemed so similar to her own!

She stumbled, caught herself, and kept running. Ever further, until she reached the little fountain at the edge of the garden. A hidden place rarely visited by anyone. Just a low, round stone, overgrown with ivy. The water within it was still and black like a liquid mirror, with a statue of Venus at its center.

Sulpicia fell to her knees and braced herself with both hands on the cold edge of the fountain. Her shoulders trembled.

“What have I done...?” she whispered into the night, but no one answered.

Then she collapsed entirely, let her body slide to the side, turned onto the dew-wet grass and lay there. Exhausted, unravelled, and empty. The sky above her was deep dark, crisscrossed with stars that looked down on her like ancient eyes and passed silent judgment upon her. Was she to be condemned?

She was the one who had encouraged Carlisle to take such a step, she knew that. Instinctively, she had provoked it… their meetings had never been meant to become so regular, so intense, and so emotional...

She stared upward, while inside her the thoughts still raced.

What if she hadn’t lowered her gaze? What if she had allowed it ... that kiss, that touch, that transgression against everything she stood for?

And then, in a brief moment of mental weakness... she allowed it. For the first time, she allowed it. Those thoughts she had previously so vehemently suppressed.

In her imagination, Carlisle closed the distance between them. His lips touched hers. Softly, like a breath and at first incredibly careful. Then he became more demanding, the kiss deeper, carried by all the suppressed longing she herself had never dared to voice.

She felt his hands on her waist, on her back, in her hair. Those gentle and cautious fingers…

And she opened herself to him. She let herself be held, let herself be kissed, let herself be undressed of all duty and all guilt.

In her imagination, they lay in the grass, right here, next to the fountain. Skin on skin. So careful, so slow. He worshipped her with every touch. Not demanding. Not greedy. Just… loving. As if she were no ruler, no vampire, but simply a woman who had not been touched in a long time. As if she were his muse.

Her fingers dug into the grass, as if she could hold onto the image that had already begun to blaze within her.

Carlisle’s lips at her throat, at her collarbone, at her shoulders. His warm gaze as he said her name like a prayer. Again and again... with that understanding, loving voice…

She heard herself whisper his name into the night with tenderness. And their bodies came together like two beings finally returning home.

Sulpicia exhaled shakily. Her eyes filled with bloody tears, but she did not cry. She did not dare. Because she knew that she would have loved him, had she allowed it. Completely. And she knew that she could never allow this possible future to become real.

“I can’t…” she whispered into the darkness.

Not to him. Not to Aro. Not to herself. She was too loyal for that. Her principles kept her from it.

And yet she had allowed it. Here and now in her mind. The moment had been so indescribably beautiful. So easy… with this man, everything seemed so easy…

“Do you care, do you care?
Why don't you care?
I gave you all of me
My blood, my sweat, my heart, and my tears
Why don't you care, why don't you care?
I was there, I was there, when no one was

Now you're gone and I'm here”

(I Have Questions - Camila Cabello)

~✾~

It was already late when Sulpicia silently entered her chambers and those of her mate. The sun was already rising, and the morning dew still clung to her dress. It felt to her as if it betrayed her misdeed... a silent witness of her guilt.

She slipped cautiously inside, trying not to make a sound.

But Aro was already waiting for her. Motionless like a statue, his hands loosely folded on the armrests, his gaze fixed on the flame of a single candle. He had heard her long before she entered. Her steps, the gentle rustle of her gown, the barely perceptible scent of lavender that always clung to her in those days. A scent like a drug to him...

She startled slightly, for she had not expected to find him still awake, and a gentle smile crept onto her lips, not quite as sincere as she usually meant it. She felt infinitely guilty.

And his rigid posture, the way he clenched his jaw and stared into the flames, not looking up even once as she entered, unsettled her further.

“He knows…” she thought frantically. “He saw it… how could he have seen it?!” She hastily pushed those thoughts aside and sealed them away in that part of her mind where she always placed thoughts she didn’t want Aro to access.

“My love,” she said tenderly, as she closed the door behind her and stepped closer to him. “It was a very quiet night… I spent a few hours in the garden. The herbs are blooming particularly richly this year…”

Her voice sounded warm, almost cheerful, but gradually fell silent when she found no reflection of her joy in Aro’s face. She didn’t know herself why she was babbling so nervously… did he notice how nervous she sounded? He must have, because usually her joy transferred to him. Usually, he would have smiled whenever she entered...

But not this morning. He said nothing. Didn’t move. Showed no reaction.

Sulpicia stepped closer, now more hesitantly.

Something was different. Something dark lay in the air, heavier than usual. He still didn’t look at her, didn’t move a single inch. The coldness of his aura hit her like a thousand tiny shards of glass and went deep under her skin.

She stopped, barely an arm’s length away, and shuddered as his steel-red eyes finally turned toward her.

“Do I not love you enough, Sulpicia?” Aro finally asked, and his voice was so quiet she could barely understand the words. Quiet, threatening, and razor-sharp.

Sulpicia blinked, confused. “What… what do you mean?” A farce. For she knew exactly what he meant. The realization that he was fully aware of what had happened—or almost happened—between her and Carlisle seeped into her mind like black tar.

Wordlessly, her dark eyes begged for forgiveness.

Aro’s gaze grew more intense. His red eyes flared threateningly and made her instinctively recoil. There was no compassion, no concession in them. She saw only rage, an impenetrable coldness, and an unspeakable fire.

Never before had he looked at her like that!

“Our young guard Carlisle…,” he began sweetly, speaking the name like a curse. “I had you both watched. You seem to get along extremely well… too well, perhaps.”

Sulpicia laughed softly and uncertainly, turned her gaze away and tried to ease the weight of the situation. A shiver of uncertainty ran through her body. Aro usually didn’t speak to her like this. This voice was reserved for his enemies.

“Are you jealous?” she asked playfully and warmly, in a desperate attempt to neutralize the situation. “You really don’t have to be.”

She stepped closer, sat beside him, and reached out to gently stroke his cheek. She wanted to delay the inevitable. But Aro reacted instantly, his iron grip closing around her wrist. The rage in his expression deepened. Her lie wounded him deeply, she knew that!

“He thinks he understands you. Better than I ever could… what do you say to that?” Aro asked, his voice now trembling with suppressed anger. Remaining calm seemed to cost him tremendous effort, and it broke Sulpicia’s heart to see him like this. Because of her.

The vampire slowly lowered her hand, the coldness of his withdrawal burning on her skin, and she had to avert her gaze, unable to look at him any longer. The guilt and truth of his statement weighed too heavily.

“Well,” she began quietly, “he… he shares my aversion to killing.”

Aro’s eyebrows rose mockingly. “Is that so?” His voice was barely a murmur.

Sulpicia visibly struggled for composure, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She didn’t want to hurt her mate! And yet it was the truth.

Finally, she assured him: “Aro, there’s nothing. I swear to you!”

The guilt took hold of her again. She knew she was lying. She had felt that longing just as Carlisle had. The desire to be held by someone who understood. The longing to look into the eyes of a soul as pure as one’s own… while they made love…

Once more, she concealed any memories in her mind, making them inaccessible to him. Not only because she wanted to protect herself—she also wanted to protect Carlisle. That immortal who offered her a vision of spiritual peace that Aro could never give her. With him, she didn’t have to explain herself, didn’t have to justify herself. He saw her and her convictions—without judgment and without expectation.

“Are you sure?” Aro’s voice was now little more than a cutting whisper in the light of the rising sun. “Because he seems to understand you in a way that is clearly denied to me.”

Sulpicia closed her eyes for a moment. She couldn’t deny it, no matter how much she wanted to.

She felt the coming emotional outburst like a looming storm on the horizon. She had never wanted to hurt him! Never! She had never wanted to cause him pain, just as she had always wanted to remain faithful to him, even when he was not…

She had broken her own principles. Only because her traitorous heart wanted what it wanted!

“You know our struggles…” Her voice was a plea. A plea for forgiveness. “And I know you try very hard to tolerate my values, but…”

“But what?!” The immortal jumped to his feet, his voice cutting sharply through the room. Sulpicia flinched immediately as the coldness of his aura struck her.

“He feels it too. The pain,” she said quietly, almost apologetically, and stood as well, took his hands in hers and searched for kindness in his red eyes. “He doesn’t just tolerate it, he understands it.”

Aro turned away for a moment and stared blankly at the opposite wall, once again withdrawing from her touch. He didn’t want to hear her thoughts. Not now.

A cruel silence settled over the room, and Sulpicia felt her heart tighten.

She fervently hoped that Aro had not already harmed Carlisle.

The silence stretched, thick and threatening, until Aro turned back toward her and glared, this time, however, with a deep sorrow and hurt in his eyes that immediately weighed heavily on the vampire.

“Don’t you know how much I’m always worried about you?!” His voice swelled, a struggle between love and rage. He stepped closer, and she backed away. His red eyes now gleamed dangerously. “Your strict blood abstinence is admirable. You know I feel that way. But don’t you realize what danger you put yourself in?!”

She backed away until she felt the wall behind her and finally laid her delicate hand placatingly on his chest as they stared at each other and he relentlessly came closer and closer.

“I… I suppose that’s my decision,” she said pleadingly and weakly. Once again, she felt guilt rise within her, for she knew what he meant by those words. And yet she couldn’t change. Not even for him. Not even for the man she loved more than any other soul on this planet.

He shared that love. A love that burned them both…

“No!” he hissed, wounded. “It is not only your decision!” The authority in his deep voice made her shudder. “Do you know how often I imagine someone attacking you just to weaken me?!”

Aro leaned in, his forehead creased with worry and pressed it to hers, forcing his presence upon her even more. He visibly struggled for control. The air was taut to the breaking point. His scent of old mahogany filled every one of her senses, but in this moment, she could not enjoy it as she usually did. In this moment, he frightened her.

“Aro… that’s not fair,” she whispered again, the pressure of her hand on his chest increasing. She wanted to push him away. Knew he was rummaging through her mind right now, desperately searching for that memory of Carlisle Cullen. She felt the black-glossy, eerily sweet threads of his mind as they tried to force their way into hers.

Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, they crept forward slowly. Gentle and careful to make it as pleasant for her as possible, they took possession of every inch of her mind until she gasped in shock as she felt the brutality that emerged when he encountered the barriers she had placed. When he tried to take by force what he wanted to see.

"Oh no?!" he roared, pounding a fist against the stone next to her head when he repeatedly failed to get what he desired. His eyes now gleamed not only with rage, but also with pent-up grief and jealousy. "Do you know what the worst part is?! I knowingly allow you to not even defend yourself, weak as you are from your malnutrition!"

His pain erupted in words that cracked through the room like whiplash, making his companion flinch repeatedly. Sulpicia raised her hands in a placating gesture, wanting to calm him, wanting to show him with a gentle touch that she loved him despite everything, but when she tried to touch his face, he looked at her warningly.

"Forgive me..." she thought, both loving and fearful. "Please forgive me!"

Aro's eyes widened again in hurt and pain. And then everything happened too quickly. With a speed that left no escape, he grabbed her and pressed her harder against the wall. His right hand found hers, raised it beside her face, and with his thumb, he held her palm pressed against the stone.

An erotic gesture, perhaps, if it hadn't been so brutal in that second.

His body pinned hers, and she felt his trembling rage clinging to her like a second skin. His leg pinned to hers, his hip pressing against hers. Unyielding and threatening.

"Aro, please stop!" Her voice was barely a whisper as she tried with her last bit of strength to free herself from the strong arms with which he held her. But her strength was failing more and more... he was right, of course: she was weak. But what he was doing here was absolutely unacceptable!

The bite between vampires, especially between mates, was usually something incredibly intimate, sexual, and passionate. And they had exchanged such a bite many times before. But not at this moment... This bite was raw, violent, and by no means sensual. Aro was knowingly hurting her. Weakening her until she had no more strength … because her limited blood consumption was indeed making her weak against any attack...

"I understood what you were trying to tell me! Please stop, you're hurting me!" she whimpered. Crimson tears streamed down her cheeks, and she desperately clawed her hands into his silky, black hair.

But Aro continued drinking, driven by hatred and rage, until her body went limp.

He only pulled away from her theatrically, breathing heavily, when he felt her legs give way beneath her and he had to hold her to keep her from collapsing.

Intoxicated by her blood, he wrapped his arms around her body. "Do you see it, love?!" he gasped, his fangs still bared. "You wouldn't stand a chance if another vampire really tried!"

And then he let her go. He watched her sink to her knees, head bowed. It broke his heart, and he had to blink hard to hold back his own tears. What he had just done to her was a true atrocity! He knew it himself. It was profoundly wrong and disrespectful. And it showed him once again that he was, after all, the monster so many saw him as.

Yet in his twisted mind, he also believed that that lesson had been necessary. She would understand, he was sure!

"That's why I insist you reconsider your ideals," he said harshly. He could still taste his mate's blood on his lips like intoxicating ambrosia. "That's why I want you to drink human blood, as we all do. Without moderation. Without regret. Because it nourishes you. Because it protects you. Because it makes you strong."

He immediately squatted down as well, gently taking her hand to pull her back up. She trembled, but allowed herself to be led. Her blond hair fell over her beautiful, blood-soaked face as she slowly raised her head to look at him.

"Do you understand now why all this makes me so angry?! That you confide in him, that he even encourages you in your beliefs?! He encourages weakness, Sulpicia!"

The mistress's eyes shone faintly as she stared at him, but now her jaw also tensed.

"Come, I'll help you regain your strength," said Aro, who was just about to offer his neck to her so she could regain her strength.

But Sulpicia was faster. She swung her hand and slapped him across the face with full force.

Completely shocked, Aro held his cheek and stared at her.

Sulpicia said nothing. Her silent, blood-red tears were words enough. Her dark brown eyes flashed at him in hurt, and she shook her head as more tears welled up. Then, with the last of her strength and dignity left, she circled him and left the room with her head held high.

"How dare you?!" her thoughts echoed in his mind, while his majestic posture slumped as he watched her go.

Jealousy ate through him like a maggot through bacon. And once again, the tormenting thought that Carlisle might understand his wife better than he could... He had truly hurt her... How could he have hurt her?! He had never wanted this!

Aro sank to his knees. Here in his chamber, where no one could see him, the Master of vampires sank to his knees. His majestic posture shattered like a house of cards, and deep inside, jealousy continued to gnaw at his guts. He was nothing without her... nothing... And a single thought took root in his mind in that second. A single thought he would never be able to ignore again:

"He can give her something I can't. He is something to her that I am not and perhaps never will be."

“I miss your frozen love too much
And I'd overdose from just a touch

So, baby don't come back
Oh, whatever you do, don't come back for me
After all, I've bled for you
I can hardly breathe
And one more kiss could take my life”

(Come Back For Me – James Young)

~✾~

The corridors of the castle of Volterra lay silent in the light of the rising sun. Dust could be seen between the tall windows as the light broke through them. Silence reigned, for most of the inhabitants were already asleep in an undead slumber. Only the echo of hurried footsteps rang between the high walls. A breathless rhythm of despair, shame, and pain.

Sulpicia was running away. Away from her mate, who had inflicted unspeakable suffering upon her just minutes ago... and also away from herself and her thoughts. She was so endlessly confused! Blood dripped from her neck onto the marble, even though the wound had already begun to close. It was also the blood of her tears that mixed into it…

She could barely stand, so weakened was she… Her delicate hands first clutched apathetically at her bleeding neck, then at the fabric of her dress, which had shifted under the violence of her escape. Blood… there was blood everywhere.

She trembled. In that moment, she perceived nothing of the world around her. Not the endless spiral staircases she ran down and up again and back down, dizzy. Not the statues and busts that stared at her accusingly. Not the dark frescoes that told of beautiful moments of their life together as a coven… There was only the memory of Aro’s violent grip, of his teeth, of his words that seeped like poison into her soul.

“How could he hurt me like that…,” she thought painfully, and her fingers once more found the wound on her neck. His bite, which she had always experienced as sensual, as protective, had been cold and cruel. It was a memory she would never be able to erase. His strong hands, in which she had always felt so safe, had suddenly become so terrifying and cruel!

Sure, she had seen him like that before… but never toward her. Her mate’s cruelty had never before been directed at her.

A wave of grief overcame her, and she pressed her blood-smeared hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud. She had to keep running. She mustn’t break down now… not yet! And so she forced herself to run faster… still afraid he might have followed her.

Or was it hope?

Didn’t her treacherous heart secretly long for exactly that?

That he would catch up to her, wrap his arms around her, kiss her and stroke her hair lovingly, like all those times before? … Yes! She wished for it! And at the same time, she wanted to put as much distance between herself and him as possible!

But as so often happens when sweetness is in the air, the greedy flies are not far behind… and in that moment, the intoxicating floral scent of the mistress’s blood filled the corridors. Velvety and graceful and full of sweet temptation.

As she turned another corner, she flinched in panic and had to stop abruptly to avoid colliding with the figure that stood in her way.

It was Carlisle.

His eyes were red, and his cheeks were stained with dried blood from shed tears.

By all the gods, why did it have to be him who crossed her path now?!

Her eyes found his immediately, and she inhaled meaningfully. She didn’t want to be so close to him! And yet she desired nothing more!

“Lady Sulpicia…,” he said far too composedly and respectfully lowered his gaze, hinting at a bow. His voice was merely a whisper. It broke her heart to see him like this. Aro must have spoken with him as well…

Sulpicia couldn’t help but look at him with pain in her eyes.

When she didn’t respond, the Englishman finally looked up and studied her. His brow furrowed as he saw her tears, and his gaze fell upon her neck and the still-healing bite… What had Aro done to her?!

His heart shattered into a thousand pieces, and he couldn’t help himself. He had to ignore the warning of the master of thoughts! So he carefully reached out his hand, as if to touch a broken butterfly. And in a way, it truly felt that way to him…

But Sulpicia hastily recoiled. Her eyes were wide open, and she shook her head desperately while lifting her lovely hand to her mouth, once again on the verge of tears born of suppressed desire.

“No,” she gasped hoarsely, and her eyes filled with blood. Against her true emotions and with great effort, she added, “Please… go.”

Because if he didn’t, Aro would show no mercy…

And yet: how she wished he would not obey her words. How she wished she had never met him and he had never awakened that longing in her… She wished he had never planted those doubts in her… doubts that perhaps another man might suit her better than her own mate…

Her mate, who had caused her so much pain just moments ago. Who had crossed a line, even if out of worry and love for her. The wound ran deep… and she didn’t know how she would ever overcome the memory of the violence he had inflicted upon her…

Carlisle remained frozen, his hand half-raised. He didn’t know how to react… “Let me help you,” he said reverently, unable to bear seeing her like this.

The polite form of address pained them both.

But she only shook her head. A helpless, trembling gesture.

“You mustn’t,” she whispered. “You mustn’t want to save me. We can’t be together… it’s simply not right…”

Her gaze was a silent plea. Not directed at him, but at something higher, unattainable - the gods of her old world, perhaps. A plea to her own traitorous heart, begging it not to feel in this all-consuming way…

“Sulpicia, please… you don’t have to do this…” His voice softened again, slipping back into the familiar address. His mouth remained slightly open, as if he wanted to say more, but the words caught in his throat when he cautiously lifted a hand and placed it gently on her cheek. He too was trembling, unsure if she would allow it but the way she immediately leaned into the touch, closing her eyes in pain, shattered his undead heart.

“You could leave with me. Away from here. Away from him…” he thought, yet did not dare say aloud…

So he remained motionless, watching her pain begin to ebb as she leaned more deeply into his touch. He brought her relief… he could be her relief!

Oh, he knew he was playing with fire. But something in Sulpicia’s wounded gaze as she looked at him again - so lost, so hurt, and yet still full of grace and elegance - drew him to her irresistibly.

He knew what it would mean if he went any further. He knew that each step closer to her could cost him his immortal life. And yet… what was his life in the face of what existed between them? All he had was the monster and the prospect of an eternity full of agony.

This quiet, barely tangible bond, woven between them through pain, compassion, and longing: was it not worth risking everything for?

And so he moved toward her, slowly.

His steps, as he closed the distance between them, were careful, as if he were approaching a sacred goddess. Because that’s how he saw her. She was a goddess. And he would never regard her as anything less.

And as much as a part of her wanted to, Sulpicia did not step back.

Because another part of her wanted what was about to happen.

She stood there, frozen, as though the world itself had stopped turning. Her lips trembled. Her gaze flickered. And a small, barely audible gasp escaped her throat as his hand slowly traced down her cheek and lightly enclosed her chin, as if she were made of porcelain and might shatter with a single wrong touch.

“I know…” Carlisle whispered, his own voice shaking now, and his throat grew dry. He tried again. “I know I’m putting you in danger. And myself. But if I walk away now… if I don’t even try… then I’ll be destroyed by the thought of you.”

He rested his forehead against hers. Their noses barely touched, a trembling pause before the storm. She lowered her gaze and allowed his scent to wrap around her, giving her warmth and comfort.

And then, so softly, as though he cursed himself for it, he kissed her lips.

The kiss was tender and fragile, and the pent-up longing of both souls was palpable. Carlisle melted into the scent of her blood and felt more intoxicated than ever before as she returned his touch.

Sulpicia let out a quiet gasp as her lips met his. She didn’t want to allow it ... but she had to. Oh, how much she wanted it!

Just for a moment. Just for this one, lost and ruined heartbeat. How could she?! How could she do this?!

Carlisle could feel her inner turmoil as if it were his own. Her soul was divided. And it became clear to him that right now, this very moment, he may have signed his own death sentence.

He didn’t care. Then let Aro kill him! He didn’t care about anything anymore!

How rare it was to meet a soul so like his own? Everything about this touch felt so incredibly right! So real! So wonderful! How could this ever be wrong?

He supported her head as he gently leaned her back against the cold stone. His hands slid immediately to her sides, holding her gently, but firmly. This wasn’t close enough. Not by far. He needed to be closer! He needed to feel himself inside her!

He didn’t want her out of power. He didn’t want to possess her. He wanted to give her strength, he wanted them to give each other strength in this cruel, godforsaken existence!

One of his hands slid gently along her thigh, making her delicate skin tremble. Instinctively, she bent her leg and pulled him closer. She did it out of desire, out of despair, out of that one tiny rebellion against what she was supposed to be.

With Carlisle, she wouldn’t have to pretend, she thought. With him, she could always be as she was… unrestricted and understood.

His body was now close to hers. His desire was raw and palpable, and it met her own, making them both tremble. She felt his hardness at her center, and a moan escaped her. She could feel him inside her… in one tiny, treacherous moment, she wanted nothing more than to be filled by him. Oh, what a sweet temptation!

The sound was shaken and suppressed, as she tilted her head back and squeezed her eyes shut against reality.

Carlisle held her, once again protecting her from hitting the cold wall, then his thumb stroked her cheek once more, his lips grazed her neck as if he wanted to erase the traces of his rival.

“Carlisle… as much as I want to…,” Sulpicia whispered desperately. She was caught somewhere between lust and madness. Her senses were so fogged, she could have screamed. She felt as if she were going to shatter into a thousand pieces. Because besides the desire she felt for him, a weighty truth hit her like a punch to the gut. “I love him.” A quiet sob escaped her throat. “I can’t do this. I can’t betray him.”

Carlisle, now a helpless servant to his urges, growled, deeply hurt. “Not even after everything he’s done to you?” He froze in his movements, turning into a pillar of ice. It was so unlike him, and Sulpicia had never seen him like this before.

“I’m so sorry!” she whimpered through tears of desperate indecision. “He did it because he loves me.” Her vision blurred with red liquid. “He was desperate, he…” She shook her head violently as she gently but firmly pushed the young vampire away from her. She could hardly believe what she had just done! “He didn’t know better. He didn’t want to hurt me.”

And she truly believed that.

Her empathy ran too deep – reached into his corrupted, immortal soul – and that was probably the reason she couldn’t help but love him. Her lost, fallen, dark angel.

“He doesn’t even remotely know what treasure he has!” Carlisle spat out in anger, but obeyed her without hesitation and stepped back from her.

For a moment, they stood facing each other. The bond of desire was stretched to its breaking point, and the realization that he would never find true peace seeped deeper and deeper into Carlisle’s core at that very moment.

He would never find peace. Not with her, at least.

She would remain forever out of reach. He had known it, and yet it tore him apart now that she had spoken it out loud. That she would forever belong to another.

~✾~

And as expected, like the silent, obedient shadow she was, Renata stood a few steps above, watching the scene unfold. Her blood-red eyes were razor-sharp, and she could hardly believe what she saw!

Her gaze flickered as she observed how Sulpicia leaned into this young vampire, how she not only tolerated his closeness but sought it. How she found comfort in his touch, when in truth, it should have been Master Aro in whose arms she sought comfort and protection!

A quiet, almost imperceptible tremble ran through Renata’s body. How could she? How could she dare to turn her back on Aro, her mate, the man who had given her eternity, in such a desecrating way? Aro, who had sacrificed so much, who felt so deeply, who could only share his dark grandeur with her.

He would never love her the way he loved Sulpicia! And she just threw it away!

This one sinful, fleeting moment… how could she commit such a betrayal of trust?! What the guard saw was enough to make Renata’s very core quake. She didn’t feel just pain. She felt anger and jealousy.

Anger for what was being done to her master. Jealousy for what Mistress Sulpicia clearly allowed herself to do!

Her heart pounded wildly, a rhythmic beat of loyalty, outrage, and deepest love. She had sworn to protect him — with body and soul. And now she saw his mate betray him.

Renata stepped back with a cool, stoic gaze. Her decision was clear. She would of course go to him immediately and report everything. He had to know. He could no longer remain in the dark! Not when so much was at stake. Not when his heart was being broken in such a cruel way! Her master didn’t deserve to suffer like this!

But she, she would be there for him, to catch him if he fell! She would always be there!

~✾~

The door had slammed shut behind Sulpicia. The echo slowly faded between the stone walls of Aro’s chambers. Her scent of lavender slowly diminished, and he felt how he was losing her more and more...

Then there was only silence. A silence that weighed heavier than a thousand voices.

Aro was still standing where she had left him, his gaze fixed on the exit through which she had vanished. His cheek throbbed slightly from her slap, but the physical pain was nothing compared to what blazed in his chest.

His knees had given way under the weight of his own guilt. How could he have done this to her? To her? This pure and so wonderful being?! He never wanted to hurt her! He loved her! And he wanted nothing more than to protect her! If necessary, even from himself...

Motionless, he sat on the cold marble floor. A truly degrading position for a ruler. But here in his chambers, where no one could see him, he surrendered to the weakness of his heart. She was it... she was his weakness. It had always been that way.

His hands, which had just been clenched into fists, dropped limply. Finally, he lifted them hesitantly, as if he feared his own cruelty, and buried his face in them.

And for the first time in centuries, Aro Volturi trembled. For the first time in centuries, he truly feared he had lost his beloved Sulpicia.

He had hurt her. The physical act was bad enough, but the blood he had violently taken from her was nothing compared to the emotional wound he had left in her heart.

He had soiled her love. Trampled her loyalty, turned her gentleness into fear. Fear! His mate had been afraid of him... even though she had done nothing, as he had finally seen.

She had done nothing... She was still pure. She was still innocent.

“Sulpicia...”

Her name slipped from his lips, barely audible, but as a pleading whisper in the dark chamber. His deep voice echoed through the room and made him tremble.

The images echoed in his mind: Her startled gaze, the trembling hands, the horror in her dark eyes as she realized what he had done to her. But worse was the moment when she struck him. He knew she had not done it out of defiance or anger, but out of despair. A despair that now struck him with the relentlessness of an approaching storm.

What if he had lost her forever? What if, in her gentle way, she had created a final, insurmountable distance between them?

Sure, he could force her to stay, could manipulate her or use the gifts of his guard… but it would not be the same. It would not be real.

Aro pressed his hands tighter against his face, as if he could suffocate the rising panic. He needed her. He loved her! She was the only one to whom he could entrust the full extent of his corrupted mind. She was the balm for his soul. The water in his desert of madness... he could not lose her!

What had he done? He should never have hurt her so…

The guilt burned in his veins like poison.

He was the most powerful vampire in the world. And yet here he sat, broken on his knees, desperate like a child who had destroyed his most precious treasure. He could not live without her. Her spirit, her heart, her light ... they were the only things that had kept him alive through the endless centuries.

She was the humanity they all so painfully lacked.

Without her, he was nothing. Just a shadow of himself and his glory. The purity of her soul was what completed him. She was not only the balm of his soul, she was also the conscience he lacked. The beating heart he had lost.

He slowly lifted his head. His eyes – red and empty – stared into the darkness.

There was still hope. She was still here. Her spirit was still somewhere in this castle. And he knew he had to act. He had to find her. Had to bring her back before the cracks he had caused in her became irreparable chasms.

Slowly and heavily, like an old man, Aro Volturi finally rose. His black hair fell like a dark veil over his shoulders and he straightened up.

“I have wounded the most precious jewel in my collection,” he thought. And as he reached for the door, he whispered so softly that only he could hear it:

“Please, Sulpicia... forgive me.”

But he did not yet know what had happened in the meantime...

“Say it louder, say it louder
Who's gonna love you like me, like me?
Say it louder, say it louder
Who's gonna touch you like me, like me?

I don't wanna hurt you, but you live for the pain
I'm not tryna say it, but it's what you became
You want me to fix you, but it's never enough
That's why you always call me
'Cause you're scared to be loved”

(Shameless - Sofia Karlberg)

~✾~

The door to the master's chamber swung open with a bang as Aro stepped out. His golden morning robe billowed behind him like the wings of a divine raven whose plumage was made of liquid gold. He, the master of thoughts, who at times saw himself as the Sun King, now tasted the poison of his own imperfection on his lips.

Yes, he was a king … but what use was all the splendor, all the pomp, when his innermost being lay in ruins? The storm that raged within him was loud enough to wake those gods in whom he had once, a very, very long time ago, believed, when he had still been human.

Human …

Did he still carry humanity within him, after all the millennia of immortality? Sulpicia had always kept the faint light of days gone by alive within him. He needed her! He must not lose her!

He, the monster that he truly was, had caused her pain. His Sulpicia. He had to see her! Now, immediately … he could not wait any longer! He had to wash his guilt clean.

And as he hastily searched through the corridors, he followed the trail of her scent. It was still everywhere and so intoxicating that the vampire almost became dizzy from guilt over what he had done to her. He could still taste her blood in his mouth.

But then a slender figure crossed his path. He was so lost in thought that he startled when Renata’s deep red eyes met his, and he had to stop abruptly to avoid pushing her aside in a rash impulse. He didn’t want her to see him like this. Not now. His thoughts were elsewhere.

“Master…” she began quietly. But the word hung in the air as he pierced her with a gaze as burning as a sun on the brink of madness. And truly, Renata saw him also as that sun god he believed himself to be! And she was more than ready to be scorched by the cruelty of the burning sun!

“Not now,” Aro rasped, but Renata remained steadfast, as always. She was his loyal shadow guardian and she knew his moods. She knew his pain, and she loved and revered him for it in equal measure.

So she raised her hand, her gaze full of regret, and placed it on his cheek so that he could see what she had seen. So he too could become a witness to the betrayal.

Aro didn’t push her away. His own instinct compelled him to look. He knew Renata would never take up more space than necessary, and so he could not help but let his mind flow into hers.

His gift spread over her consciousness and weighed heavily upon what she showed him. He could hardly bear what he saw, and yet he looked more closely. He saw Carlisle, how he closed the distance between himself and his wife. He saw Sulpicia leaning into his hand and yielding … He saw Carlisle kissing her and pressing her further back, to be even closer to her. He saw how Sulpicia trembled. It was not fear, it was desire!

“Carlisle … as much as I want to … I love him. I can’t do this. I cannot betray him,” he heard Sulpicia’s breathless words as she turned away before more could happen. The pain those words brought her nearly tore the ground from beneath his feet. It was as if someone was pulling his own undead heart up through his throat.

He broke away from Renata … he had seen enough. His gaze became empty. His lips formed her name, but no sound came out.

The guard shuddered but did not move an inch.

“She stopped him,” the master thought shakily. “It came from him, she bears no guilt.” He clung to that thought, but the betrayal and the rage did not abate. He could feel his heart being more and more consumed by darkness.

The thought that Carlisle might even for the fraction of a second have felt that she could belong to him made Aro foam with rage. And yet he had warned him … he had warned the Englishman what would happen if he approached her again!

Renata felt a chill run down her spine. She could feel the vampire’s aura beginning to tremble around her. Dark and dangerous. How she wished that all-consuming love was meant for her and not for Sulpicia. She would never have hurt Aro in such a way …

The master’s gaze suddenly shot toward her, as if he had forgotten she was there. As if he had forgotten that he had just seen those images from her.

“That is all, Renata, you may go.”

The coldness in his voice made her stomach twist. She didn’t want to, and yet she reluctantly obeyed the command. If she didn’t, there would be consequences, she knew that. So she lowered her head and slipped away silently, ignoring her own broken heart …

Meanwhile, Aro was being consumed more and more by anger and hurt. Carlisle had taken something that did not belong to him. How dare he!? How had that goddamn moralizing Englishman dared, after all Aro had given him, to reach out his hand for the most precious thing Aro had ever possessed!? For his Sulpicia!

His gaze darkened as he imagined how he would punish him. Oh yes, he would tear Carlisle’s soul to shreds, he swore to himself! He already saw the bloody body, exposed on cold stone. He would make him suffer as the young vampire had never suffered before!

If the Englishman so desired purity, then he would have it … wound by wound, bone by bone … He would strip him of his illusions, drive him to the brink of death without ever granting him the mercy of sleep. Not because of the desire toward Sulpicia, Aro could even understand that, and Carlisle was not the first to fall for his mate.

But because Carlisle had dared to step into Aro’s place, even if only for a moment. He had, for a brief moment, occupied that place in Sulpicia’s heart that was reserved for him alone.

“I will break him,” he whispered darkly. “Just as he deserves.”

But then he paused as the thought of her once again crept into his mind. Of her pain … of his betrayal and his hideous deed toward her. Sulpicia … Her voice and her broken words to him still flickered in his mind. He still felt how strongly she had resisted him. And as much as he cursed Carlisle for his desire, he despised himself even more in that second.

He could not deny that his own behavior had contributed significantly to driving her into Carlisle’s arms!

Had he truly lost her? He had to make it right! His mate, his queen had to remain by his side! And he wanted her to do it willingly!

If there was even a shred of hope—a tiny spark—then he had to find her first, before turning to Carlisle. And he had a feeling where he would find her …

~✾~

Only a single ray of light fell into the reading room where Sulpicia had retreated. A faded, faint glow, but one that couldn't dispel the darkness in her heart. She had bent her legs and wrapped a blanket around them, as if she were an old woman. She sat huddled in the corner of the room, desperately trying to concentrate on the book in her hands.

The blood had washed away, and the ivory robe that now enveloped her no longer bore any trace of the past hours. It was as if she had completely washed herself clean... but her inner self spoke a different language.

She didn't consciously absorb the lines; her eyes merely glanced over the paper, which in that second gave her a feeling of safety and security. It was one of her favorite books, and she had read it countless times.

Her thoughts revolved around Aro and Carlisle. About what her lover had done to her and the possibilities she might have had with Carlisle. She still felt guilty, but more than that, she was torn and shaken by what Aro had done.

She knew now she would never cross the line. She wouldn't have been unfaithful to her lover, no matter the temptation...unlike him.

She finally sighed portentously and let the book fall, staring instead out the small window and watching the clouds move across the sky for a moment.

It was impossible for her to shake off the thought of Aro's brutality towards her. Just as she couldn't shake Carlisle's touch. It had all been far too much...and at the same time, all the caresses she and Aro had shared so countless times before mingled with her mind. His lips on hers...his hands on her body...the feeling of him inside her...all that love and all that connection.

When there was a sudden knock, she jumped in alarm. Her head shot toward the door, and she felt hot and cold at the same time.

For a moment, she struggled with herself, sensing who was at the door. But then she whispered a soft "Come in" and saw the door slowly open.

Aro entered cautiously, his blood-red eyes heavy with regret. Instantly, she, too, felt sick.

He closed the door behind him and then cautiously approached. Instinctively, she sat up slightly in the chair she was sitting in and pressed herself into the armrest. For a moment, he stood at a respectful distance, watching her movements.

"Sulpicia," he finally said pleadingly, visibly struggling for words. "Forgive me."

His golden dressing gown dragged limply across the floor as he ventured a little closer, finally kneeling in front of her chair.

Had he already seen what had just happened? Would he still apologize if he knew? How serious did her betrayal really weigh compared to all the times he had actually been unfaithful to her?

"Did you do something to Carlisle?" she asked tersely, her dark brown eyes shining with fear.

Aro sighed, barely able to hide the anger in his voice: "Not yet. But he will pay for what he did, I swear to you." He paused for a moment and looked at her fingers. He had to fight the urge to touch them. "He will pay for what he just did."

His gaze fixed on hers. He wanted her to know that he had already seen it. That he wouldn't have to touch her for it.

Sulpicia's eyes filled with tears. She pressed her lips together and then looked away. She looked back up at the clouds.

Of course, he was angry with her too! But he had to save what could be saved! He had to preserve their connection, their love, and all the memories of their past while he still could!

"You have no right to judge me. Not you..." the vampire finally heard her say. He knew it was true. And yet, he couldn't help his nature, his inclination toward a variety of sexual practices, and his insatiable hunger for physical proximity with more than one person.

But that didn't compare to this in his eyes.

"That's different. I've always loved only you," he replied, and meant it. He had never felt such deep feelings for another being as he did for her... and this certainty justified his unfaithful behavior in his eyes.

But the Mistress simply shook her head. A frown of anger appeared on her forehead as she looked at him accusingly again. "Who guarantees that? You? Your word? Would you rely solely on my word?"

He looked down. They both knew he wouldn’t. Aro had proven that.

"Aro, I accept it because I know you need it," Sulpicia continued, her voice broken, and saw his eyes begin to flash threateningly.

"And you need him? Is that what you're telling me?" He had inadvertently raised his voice, and she instinctively stepped back a little further, which immediately made him freeze. She was afraid... of him... again.

He averted his gaze in pain, struggling with himself before burying his face in his hands for a moment so he wouldn't have to see the monster inside him. To keep it locked deep inside...

He knew he wouldn't win her back that way.

"Please excuse me. You... you don't have to fear me, Sulpicia, you, as perhaps the only person in this world, really don't have to." He released his stance and raised his hand, trembling, to touch hers again. But as she followed his movements and was about to withdraw her own hand in time, he paused. He added in a whisper, "I could never hurt you!"

"You did hurt me, Aro," she replied, trembling.

Once again, he couldn't look at her. How could he ever fix this?

Suddenly, he shot upright as a thought occurred to him, making Sulpicia flinch once more. Her eyes followed him as she watched him stride over to one of the large, dusty glass cabinets and remove an old crystal goblet.

He looked gently into her eyes as he finally knelt beside her again, then sliced ​​his own forearm with his thumbnail.

"I know, and I regret it deeply... I want you to regain your strength."

Slowly and deliberately, he let his own blood drip into the chalice, tearing the wound open again and again as it began to heal. The scent of pine and mahogany - old, heavy, and portentous - filled the room, and Sulpicia couldn't help but take a deep, desperate breath.

"Aro, you don't have to, it..." She realized what he was trying to do, and she appreciated the gesture very much. He had noticed that she didn't want to touch him, and he respected it. It was as if he was avoiding the issue. As if he were dealing with one problem - her blood loss - before facing the much larger one.

"Please drink. It's safe, you won't take a life with this," he said, handing her the chalice. That his blood couldn't optimally nourish her was no secret. But it would be a start, and it would restore her strength. A part of him would be inside her again...

She swirled the crystal and considered its contents for an agonizingly long moment.

The mind reader watched her closely.

He waited.

Would she really waste his blood? Was she really that hurt? She was already diminishing its value, as it became less palatable with every second it spent in the air.

But then she carefully raised the vessel to her lips and let the cooling weight of the vampire blood flow down her throat.

Oh, he tasted so good! He had always tasted so incredibly good! Like home... home. He was her home. Her curse. But also her anchor in this world.

And she could slowly feel the strength returning to her veins. Thanks to him... even though he was the one who had stolen it from her in the first place.

"Thank you..." she said, looking down at the empty vessel. With her fingers, she wiped away the remaining blood and licked it away, careful not to waste a single drop! "I understand your reasons, but... you will never hurt me like that again!"

It sounded almost casual, but the sharpness in her tone made him shudder, and with a lump in his throat, he took the cup back.

"Do you want to leave me?" He was about to cut his veins again so she could continue drinking, but Sulpicia stopped him with a gentle wave of her hand.

"No. I love you. I never wanted to leave you, you know that." Because that was indeed the truth. As much as she enjoyed how much Carlisle understood and shared her and her morals, she loved Aro.

"And yet you have feelings for him," he noted as matter-of-factly as he could.

The vampire took a deep, unnecessarily deep breath. "He... he feels my pain, Aro. I know you respect my way of life, and yet you wish I were like you."

She saw him glance away and his jaw clench. Yes, that was true... "I can't deny that, no," he admitted.

"It's nice to feel understood. That's why I sought his company. His soul is driven by the same pain as my own," she continued, her words carefully. She knew if she couldn't convince him of that, it would mean Carlisle's death sentence. She could clearly see the blazing rage behind his controlled facade.

"So, you feel like I don't understand you." His eyes gleamed as he said this, but then Sulpicia slowly rose from her stupor. Now it was Aro who shifted first into a crouch and then into a standing position, taking a few steps back to give her space.

She knew too well that words alone wouldn't convince him... she knew him too well for that.

Cautiously, she approached him, her eyes never leaving his, and then gently placed the flat of her hand on his chest. "In that respect, Aro. He understands the pain I feel. And that's all. I let myself be carried away by... a fleeting sensation, and he succumbed to his young mind, just as we once did."

Her instinct screamed at her, and she had to fight the urge to run away. How could it be that touching him suddenly felt wrong? That it suddenly frightened her, after all these centuries of security?

And Aro could feel it clearly. Guiltily, he lowered his gaze as he listened to her words, which in that second sounded like balm to him. Her words actually put the gravity of her betrayal into perspective. They put her feelings, and those of the Englishman, into a different light.

He didn't care about Carlisle at that moment. He simply wanted to feel close to his mate again. He wanted to feel her. So close to him. He wanted to feel that she still belonged to him and no one else!

"I know you're still hiding things from me. Feelings about him... you want to protect him, and I respect that. But I beg you, show them to me. I need to know what feelings he evoked in you. I need to know how I can give them to you as well."

She listened to his words as her fingers rested on his neck, both tender and cold. She felt the surging blood beneath his flawless skin and the leaden streaks of his gift gently spreading through her mind.

She let him have his way, for she didn't want to lie any longer. At the same time, she gently but firmly pulled him a little closer to her, so that he could feel the tip of her nose and her lips on his neck.

On the one hand, she did it to calm his anger, but on the other, because she wanted to feel all those old feelings – her deep connection to him again. She longed so much to return to that emotional point where the situation hadn't yet become complicated.

And Aro wanted that too... His eyes glazed over as her teeth finally sank into his neck and he felt her fingers wrapping around him and his waist. She was seeking support, and he was more than ready to give it to her.

"I'm yours," he heard in her thoughts. "And if I mean something to you, then you'll let him live." Jealousy mingled with his feelings as he heard the plea. Jealousy that this Englishman meant so much to her that she was begging him for mercy for the vampire! And while she was drinking from him, too!

"He will live, I can guarantee you that," he whispered harshly. "But he will suffer. And I recommend that you leave the castle when that happens. You shouldn't witness it..."

The threat worked.

"Aro..." Sulpicia pulled away from him for a moment, and he saw the pleading in her eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you either, I hope you know that."

Silently, she begged him in her mind to understand, to show mercy, and to please look within and examine all the times he had sought the company of another soul who hadn't been his companion.

The mind reader shook his head. Of course, he knew all this! And of course, he would forgive her - his most precious jewel. He had no doubt that she meant what she said, even though she was also doing it to protect her young friend.

He saw the concern in her eyes, but he wouldn't allow her any more than that. Not killing him was all the Englishman could hope for.

But at that moment, much more important to him was mending the broken bond between Sulpicia and himself. He wanted to believe she meant it, but he would need proof...

"Show me." His dark red eyes bored into hers, and now he dared, slowly reaching out, watching to see if she would recoil. And indeed, she followed his movements with her gaze, but then let it happen and closed her eyes when she felt his hand on her cheek.

This hand... so loving, so protective again. Oh, how she longed for peace and home! How could she ever have thought he would actually harm her?

It seemed so absurd to her in that moment...

She let him lead her, coming closer and closing the distance between them as their lips met. He didn't need to say it; she knew him well enough to know what he wanted.

They sucked in each other's breath eagerly, as if he were the last drop of water in the drying desert, and lost themselves in each other. Possessive, desperate, and burning. It was that all-encompassing, all-consuming feeling of desire that still made her almost faint after all these centuries of being together.

His strong arms wrapped around her body and pulled her closer. Even closer... he needed to feel her even closer! Slowly at first, then more urgently, as if he could bind himself to her through mere physical proximity. His kiss tasted bittersweet. Like that of a man unsure if he deserved forgiveness. But she kissed him with a fervor that left no doubt that she still desired him. That he was the only one who possessed this part of her. She had to make that unmistakably clear to him!

She clung to him, felt his hand grip her hair, his lips and tongue demandingly claiming her further. Their bodies pressed together for support, every barrier shattered in a storm of pain and desire, and she let herself go completely.

She wanted so badly to believe he would never be cruel to her again! She wanted so badly to believe it!

The kiss deepened. His hands roamed down her back and her fingers entangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and for a fleeting moment, everything else was forgotten. Carlisle, the guilt, the cruelty, and the emotional pain.

Aro let his forehead rest against hers for a moment longer, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was real here and now and not the fantastical figment of his longing.

His fingers rested hesitantly on her shoulders, and there was a hint of reverence and reticence in his movements. But when she let him know, it was okay, he slowly began to untie the narrow loops on her back - one by one, as if each had a story, a request, another revelation of a part of her soul.

The fabric of her ivory dress slid softly over her skin, brushing her shoulders, then her arms, and finally fell to the floor with a soft rustle. Here and there she felt his cautious hands on her and followed their movements with her eyes.

He looked at her darkly, full of longing, but also full of gratitude. She let him! She no longer recoiled from him! Perhaps he hadn't broken everything that had ever been good!

She didn't lean into the movement to appease him. She did it because she loved him, in spite of everything. Perhaps because of everything… they needed each other, there was no denying it. Both of them in their own twisted, insane, toxic ways.

Sulpicia slowly slipped the golden robe Aro wore off his shoulders. The fabric fell to the floor, and the Sun King was suddenly just a man. Her husband… her lover. Her immortal companion and ruler of the vampire world.

Sulpicia stepped closer. Her fingertips slid along the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. She helped him take it off, set it aside, and her hands rested briefly on his chest.

She felt his skin, so incredibly familiar to her… so eternally beautiful.

The vampire watched her and then took her hand before bringing it to his lips. With lowered eyelids, he kissed the delicate knuckles in a silent plea for forgiveness.

She finally pulled away, and her hands slid further down, searching for the waistband of his trousers. A delicate yet sure grip that made his breath labored. He felt the longing to be close to her throbbing in his core, especially now that she was so close to him.

Every hesitation, every fear, every fluttering heartbeat would be visible to him in this moment, he thought. And yet there was nothing between them that wasn't also steeped in truth. She wasn't playing games. She only wanted reconciliation.

And so he lifted her chin with two fingers. His voice was barely more than a breath. "Tell me you want it." He had to be sure! He had to hear it from her! Loud and clear!

"I want you, love," she whispered back in affirmation, and continued to strip him of the rest of his clothing.

As they stood naked and exposed before each other, Aro let his gaze slide slowly and reverently down her body, first running his fingers feather-lightly over her collarbone and then down between her breasts... and just as she was about to catch her breath as his hand began to wander lower, she felt him gently wrap his other hand around her, lifting her and carrying her to the leather sofa at the other end of the room.

"Give me a moment, I'll make us more comfortable," she heard his ragged voice say in the fog of her mind, and felt him move away for a painful moment, only to then spread his golden robe out onto the leather like a blanket.

"Definitely more pleasant for the skin, you're right," she whispered playfully, feeling the cool, silky fabric against her back after Aro had placed her there. For a moment, he paused in his movements and regarded her in silent fascination. Her golden hair flowed down one side, mingling with the gold of the fabric.

"You are so beautiful, love." He bent down to kiss her again, but then placed an arm next to her head as he felt her hand, first tracing his pecs and then sliding lower...

The utter devotion and innocence with which she gazed into his eyes only made him harder, and when her fingers finally closed tightly around him, a deep, throaty sound escaped him, causing her to shudder as well.

She carefully slid her hand up and down his shaft, which was a bit difficult since he was so close. His jet-black hair tickled her face, and she could feel his pulsing core, consumingly close to her own.

Instinctively, her legs opened a little wider, causing him to follow his instinct, but she wasn't ready yet. She hadn't brought him close enough to the edge.

Without taking her eyes off his ruby-red eyes, she straightened her upper body a little, searching for grip on the leather with her feet. He responded immediately, leaning back a little, sliding his hands under her back and head to help her sit up. The intensity with which his eyes rested on hers hinted at the madness that lay behind them, mixed with the pure desire of her touches.

Slowly, in time with her hand still sliding up and down, they changed positions. One of his hands moved between her shoulder blades and held her there, while the other slid further down her back until he reached her bottom. The controlled force of his grip made her gasp, but she still wasn't finished.

Sulpicia's movements became faster, and she felt her own arousal with all the deep sounds that left his throat again and again. Because of her... she was doing this to him! He reacted like this, because of her! She had one of the three most powerful men in the world in her hand and had the power to decide over his release.

An intoxicating feeling!

Her fingertips traced his veins to the underside of his glans. She felt the silky, familiar skin and the unbridled self-control Aro was exerting at that moment so that she couldn't push him any further than he intended.

She could feel how wet her own core was, especially with her legs still spread to either side of him. There was no angle that would allow her to adjust herself any better; the only option was to get even closer to him and feel him inside her... completely. Oh, how she wanted this! His body was so close to hers! So incredibly close!

Aro, who had succumbed to her thoughts combined with her movements, let his head fall back so that his larynx was clearly visible. He thus briefly broke eye contact and breathed in and out shakily. Clearly, he was seeking self-control... and Sulpicia was almost unwilling to grant it!

"Love, I can't make it that easy for you, I hope you know that..."

His deep laugh made her shiver again, and when their eyes met again, he gently removed her fingers, kissed each one once more, and then continued where she had left off.

He pushed her back so that her back felt the silk beneath her, then slowly and gently stroked her bent leg from bottom to top. His own arousal twitched betrayingly, but he wouldn't give in to the pressure... not yet!

Her skin tensed and her back arched slightly toward him, anticipating what was about to happen. Aro's gaze rested heavily on her. Dark and shining, and shot through with an unspeakable, black desire that he felt exclusively for her.

He heard her thoughts loud and present, and melted into them...

She wanted him as much as he wanted her! In that second, she wanted nothing but to feel him completely inside her... she wanted to make him feel, too, that there was no one else for her but him! Not really. There was no one who could come close to arousing that all-consuming desire in her that Aro did.

They both knew this truth.

Her fingers slid to his beautiful yet striking face, tracing the lines of his cheek with feather-light touches. "I'm yours... no one will ever change that."

These were exactly the words he needed to hear, and they were a balm for him and his soul, plagued by fear of loss.

He turned away, and she immediately tilted her head back as she felt his lips and fangs sliding down her thigh until he found her center. His tongue ran over her most intimate part, making her shiver with desire. He was so gentle and careful, again and again, until it almost drove her mad with desire!

"Aro, please…" she begged, breathless.

Then he increased the pressure. He found her clit and sucked on it, while she could now also feel his fingers stimulating her. It wasn't a fair game from the start, because he always knew only too well what she wanted. Hiding her thoughts in this moment of intimacy was impossible.

She felt the gentle scraping of his fangs inside her and shuddered. The danger was so close, and yet she knew with absolute certainty that he would never harm her. She knew he wouldn't hurt her... just as he had said.

How could she ever have thought otherwise?

How could she ever have been afraid of him?

As if to confirm this, his movements became faster, his sucking more intense, so that she arched her pelvis uncontrollably toward him. If they weren't so familiar, she might have felt ashamed, but it all felt so right, so familiar, so safe, that she couldn't help but let her moan out openly and loudly.

Her desire made her tremble, her body completely surrendered to him and his movements, and as his fingers massaged her relentlessly with increasing pressure, she felt as if her very being was bursting with lust, pain, and connection.

Only when she bucked again, already over the edge of her orgasm, where she would have so gladly brought him first, did he pull away, leaving a painful scar of loss.

She raised her head, ready to protest, but his lips smothered the sounds in her throat before she could even let them out. She pulled him deeper, tasting herself on him, and immediately felt his pulsing hardness against her most intimate place.

"I love only you!" she screamed in her mind in ecstasy. "Please! I need to feel you!" It was no longer a rational thought. It was pure emotion.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispered, hoarse and throaty, as he pulled away from her one last time. "I swear I will never hurt you again." And then his lips found hers again, and a silent scream escaped them both as she felt him slowly enter her. It was so familiar, so wonderful, so eager, that she felt dizzy as he began to move slowly inside her.

Her fingers clawed into his jet-black hair and then ran down his back, seeking grip. She felt the trembling muscles and was once again shivered with excitement. Again and again, she arched against him in time with his movements.

Aro held her, kissed her, took her, as if he could bind her to him with mere touch. And Sulpicia allowed it, let him take her, because deep down she knew that she belonged to him. That she was his. Forever.

The pace of her thrusts increased. What had been controlled and cautious before now became more frenzied and animalistic. Sulpicia's lips separated from his, and she bared her fangs in the air in rapture before surrendering completely to the desire, brushing his hair aside in one hasty movement and sinking her fangs into his neck.

Dark, millennia-old blood gushed forth, and Aro couldn't help but groan in turn as the ecstatic thrust of her bite hit him.

As he cried out her name in rapture, her body reacted mechanically. She spread her legs as wide as she could, absorbing the undead's dark lifeblood and concentrating entirely on the feeling of it pulsing in her abdomen.

They made love like drowning people, snatching each other's breath and yet unable to let go. They needed each other, they both knew it.

She wasn't far from climaxing, and neither was he. Their movements became more hasty, more demanding, almost painfully intense. A silent struggle for closeness, a desperate plea for validation.

And when she felt his deep groan and his final, firm movements inside her, she couldn't help but pull away from his throat and scream out her pleasure in full release of her guilt.

As close as they were, it wasn't enough. She felt him everywhere, his skin on hers, his blood clouding her senses, and the power his desire radiated toward her.

As he pulled away, she felt blood dripping onto her and lovingly closed the wound with the poison of her own saliva so that not another ruby-red drop would be wasted.

"You're mine and I'm yours. It will be this way forever," he said firmly, gently lifting her chin to kiss her again, filled with relief and fading ecstasy. She melted into the touch, soft as butter, and drew him closer, wanting to feel him close to her...

And when silence finally fell over them again, they lay tightly embraced, not speaking another word. Aro held her tight, as if afraid she might vanish into thin air if he let go, and Sulpicia buried her face in his chest, closed her eyes, and tried to forget that her love for him—her tortured angel of darkness—was possibly the most dangerous of all chains he had ever placed on her.

„Man hatte mir gesagt,
das Glück sei unter dem weiten Himmelszelt
Ich fand es nah hier, in meinem Haus
Ganz nah an meiner eigentlichen Welt

Ich weiß von nun an,
dass unser Glück diese Liebe ist“

(Die Priester - Glorificamus Te)

~✾~

It had become midday, and a leaden, heavy heat had settled over the picturesque little town of Volterra. The sun stood high above the zenith, thus marking the usually safest time of day for humans against the vampires.

Here, in the glaring bright light, they were at their most vulnerable.

Myths about the creatures of the night abounded in the world. They would burn in the sun, people said. Some claimed their skin would sparkle like glittering diamonds. Still others believed only witchcraft let them walk in the daylight… yet the truth, as so often, lay somewhere in between.

The great bells on the Palazzo di Priori had just fallen silent when Carlisle Cullen lowered his head and stepped through the cool half-darkness of the stone walls. The sunlight still pained his young, immortal skin immensely, yet he had not known where else he should have gone.

He sought support. He had to pray.

Peace in the coolness of the stone walls of the castle he would not, at this point, find anyway.

His path drove him away from the bustling alleys, into a somewhat secluded part of the little town. Here, in the shade of the trees, there stood an old, collapsed church. The Englishman was eerily glad that he could smell no human soul and stepped carefully inside.

The door fell with a soft creak shut behind him, and for a moment he believed the world outside had vanished. Here he could finally be alone with his thoughts and his sin. Here—within the holy halls of the Lord, who was no longer his—he would find solace.

Colored light fell in long bands through the high windows and bathed the altar in gold, blue, and blood red. It was a run-down, yet beautiful structure! Dust motes danced in the air and lent the room a certain calm. It was as though he were surrounded by numerous wandering souls who had found peace in their faith—quite in contrast to himself.

Slowly, step by step, he went along the nave. His shadow followed him at every step. It was the shadow of the demon he had become. An immortal, dark, and bloodthirsty demon.

Strengthless and without hold he sank to his knees before the altar.

Sunbeams broke through the colorfully shimmering rose window of glass and fell onto the wooden crucifix above him. The pale image of Christ looked down at him with an empty gaze, as though it wanted to judge him. As though he himself were to blame for what he had become.

Yet he had not asked for it! He had wanted to die! Wanted to bring an end to his miserable existence, until he had encountered her…

Sulpicia… that lovely and bloodthirsty creature for whom he yearned so much that it set his heart ablaze!

Carlisle’s lips trembled.

His hands clasped together, as though he had to hold himself together in order not to break. His voice was scarcely more than a whisper, hoarse and dry, marked by years of loss of control and inner tornness. And with every word he clearly felt the burning in his throat. The all-consuming flames of blind hunger for blood.

“My God… Lord… Father… if you still hear me…” He listened into the silence, but perceived only the ticking of the great clock on the wall. How could it still strike when there was no one here?

“I do not know whether I may still beseech you… not after I have become what I am. A creature of the night. An abomination of creation.” His forehead sank against the cool stone.

“I have never wanted blood. Never sought cruelty. I have refused to be a murderer and yet I have become exactly that. A monster that lives although it should long since have died.” His breath faltered and his voice cracked under the weight of what he could not bring himself to speak.

“And yet, Father, I still feel … I love. Tell me, how is that even possible? Is this not the most human of all emotions?” He lifted his head, looked up at Christ on the cross, and his blood-red eyes shone with despair.

“I have found a soul like my own. Pure and uncorrupted, despite the hideousness of her nature, which she shares with me. She recognizes me, she sees me … she reminds me of all the innocence we possessed when we were still human.” A sunbeam brushed across his face. Warm and merciful, and it felt to him as though the world did not wish to cast him out entirely. As though it were his all-knowing Father, the Lord God Himself, who performed that gesture.

“But she belongs to another man,” he continued in despair. “A man who also loves her … in his own way. He too is a monster … perhaps an even greater one, if you wish to draw distinctions here. And I know, I know that it is sin even to think of tearing her away from him! To bring her to me! To protect her … from him and from the world!” A sob shook him, and a powerless, wearied feeling of helplessness seized his limbs.

“Tell me what I am to do! I beg you, Father!” His plea grew more urgent. “How can love be wrong if it is born of the desire to protect and to honor? To give what the other needs? Look into my corrupted heart and see that I would carry her in my arms for all eternity!”

He saw her laughter before him again, her almost shy lowering of the head whenever he paid her a compliment. And he felt her lips on his, her body so close to his own. He smelled the intoxicating scent of her blood …

No, no! He did not want to think like that! He wanted her … not her blood! He could not want both! That simply was not right!

Or was his Lord trying to show him that the two of them were truly damned – despite their imposed self-control?

“Am I damned because I am a monster, Father? Or do you damn me because I love what I cannot have?” He sank down completely, lowered his lips devoutly onto the cold stone floor, and wished he could sink into the earth, into the depths, where perhaps in Hell he might find redemption.

For that was where he belonged, was it not?

“If you have abandoned me, then be silent,” he whispered reverently. “But if you are still somewhere … please … speak. I seek your counsel! Please help me! Give me the strength to love her or else to leave her!” And for a tiny moment, he thought he heard the distant echo of a breath. It was merely the feeling as if some ancient and unfathomable presence still lingered in this church.

“Oh, almighty Father, I adore you.” Carlisle listened another moment into the silence. He was a sinful saint, a believing monster. A true cornucopia of contradictions. And yet, at the end of the day, merely a man who desired only one thing: hope.

A whirring, almost an electric jolt, shot through the air, and immediately the wooden door was violently flung open.

Carlisle slowly lifted his head. He felt how rapidly the atmosphere of the room had changed, and yet for a moment he was still caught within his prayer.

But then he suddenly doubled over in pain, and it felt as though a glowing branding iron were being rammed into every corner of his insides. He cried out, and the sound echoed through the small church, cutting through the silent devotion like a blade.

His body arched, twisted, as though invisible flames tore at his nerves and burned him from within. His fingers clawed into the cold stone floor, as if he could escape the pain by digging deep enough. But it was no use.

“Ah … ahh … GOD …!” escaped him in desperation.

Piercing red eyes of a young girl with blonde hair fixed upon him. Jane Volturi. Behind her, cloaked in pitch-black robes, Master Aro emerged from the shadow of the gold-adorned arches of the doorway and let his feather-light hand glide approvingly over her shoulder.

“What a lovely place to pray,” he whispered. “Almost a pity to fill it with screams.” Reverently, the leader of the vampires stepped into the house of God.

Carlisle’s body convulsed under the torture, his face contorted with agony. He tried to rise, but Jane made the invisible flames flare higher. Those all-consuming tentacles she had once felt upon her own flesh when they had sought to burn her as a witch at the stake, together with her brother Alec …

Until Mistress Didyme, their deceased mother, had saved them both and made them children of the night.

The illusions of pain that she had since been able to conjure in others were so real that they could drive a vampire to death by agony, if she so willed it.

Here and now, however, she obeyed the orders of her master. Her master, who out of shame had confided only in her regarding the transgression of the Englishman. And Jane, faithful as she was, would never let even a single word about it cross her lips to another soul.

“I warned you,” Aro’s velvety voice sounded as he stepped closer. He sounded almost regretful, as if he truly felt sorry for the torments he was inflicting on the young vampire. “You should never come near my companion again.”

Another agonized scream followed. Carlisle now whimpered at the feet of the ancient vampire, unable to form words. His back curved in an inhumanly grotesque way. His mouth was open, yet even the air seemed to flee from that pain.

Aro folded his hands behind his back; the light from the stained-glass windows now painted demonic colors across his face.

“I could have destroyed you when you first lost your way, dear friend,” he continued softly and sweet as sugar, while Carlisle writhed on. “But I was merciful. I thought you would show reason. But apparently a man like you… needs instruction.”

A burst of flame shot through Carlisle’s nervous system and he shuddered at the thought of what Aro might do to him. A maddening, biting impulse that burned every cell with the notion of being seared alive ate its way through his body.

His body twitched helplessly and without dignity.

That made Jane step closer as well. Silent, like a marionette, she asked in a sweet, childlike voice, “Is this good, Master?” The red puppet-eyes found Aro for a moment and he tilted his head with a mad smile.

“How attentive of you to ask, my dear. I’m not sure…” He slowly and theatrically crouched, which Carlisle watched through narrowed eyes. “Perhaps you are too gentle.”

And then the flames sank into the last recess of his mind and he felt the last remnants of his humanity ebb away, as his vampiric body tried by every means to keep him in his undead life and to oppose the pain with something. His fangs were bared and pointed into the air, but it was all to no avail. Jane’s gift was too strong and consumed him too thoroughly.

“Please, father, then free me from this pain!” His throat produced only stifled sounds. He no longer knew whether he was praying or simply begging for it to stop. His knees, his back, his heart… everything was one single, pulsing cramp. And it painfully dawned on him: this would only be the beginning.

“So this is how it feels when one claims possession that does not belong to them,” Aro now whispered with the cruelty of a snake in his voice. “So this is how it feels when one attempts to elevate oneself above one’s rulers.”

The master let his cool hand run through Carlisle’s hair. The gesture was almost tender, yet the brutality behind it was unmistakable.

“You will learn, Carlisle Cullen,” the old vampire breathed. “You will learn that there are consequences to taking what does not belong to you.”

Then Aro rose feather-light and looked over at Jane with madness and pure homicidal lust in his eyes; she was already watching him alertly. She was ready for the coup de grâce. She was ready to extend the pain until nothing of Carlisle remained.

But then Aro suddenly raised his hand.

After all, he had promised Sulpicia.

“Not all at once, I beg you. We will extend his lesson.”

The girl nodded obediently and one last convulsive shock ran through Carlisle’s body before Jane released her gift and he collapsed inward. Gasping and trembling, nearly unconscious, he lay there. He had not known that vampires could feel in this way… he had truly believed himself dead.

His eyes crawled up to the crucifix and he unleashed one last gasp-prayer toward his almighty Father. “Let me be strong, oh our Father, who art in Heaven. Let me endure these torments.”

“Come now, dear friend!” Aro challenged him with such lightness in the deep voice that it made him sick. “Or do you think I will carry you back to our castle?” He laughed darkly at his own joke and clapped his hands gleefully. “I assure you: no. That will not happen.”

Carlisle, barely able to move because his body was still threaded through with the aftershocks of pain, spat through clenched jaws and bared teeth: “Why should I return!? Why do you think I will obey!?”

Aro’s features changed instantly. As light and playful as they had been before, they became distorted and cruel in an instant. The true monster revealed itself and showed its ugly visage of mercilessness and madness.

“Either you will endure the pain, or she will.”

It was impossible for Carlisle to tell whether Aro lied or not. He shuddered and gathered himself with the last strength he had left. No! He could not allow Aro to do anything to Sulpicia! That simply must not be! He could not mean it!