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It was wonderful, plotting and planning and scheming with her friends. It was like a breath of fresh air in the smog of the disastrous turn of events in her life.

The sky had darkened considerably and Sophie absently went to close the curtains in her living room to maintain some privacy. Kenneth and Dean were still arguing over which restaurant was really Lola’s favorite and the incessant banter was something like a peaceful background buzzing.

It was only upon reaching for the curtains to close them, glancing outside to look at the sky, when she noticed just exactly how late it was. Her eyes found the clock.

10:54pm.

She panicked.

Pulling the curtains shut with sudden vehemence, Sophie turned to her friends.

“Hey, do you think we can continue this tomorrow?” Her words came out rushed, no matter how she tried to keep her terror inconspicuous. Mikhail always emphasized the ‘alone.’ He’d stated he would kill anyone who was there uninvited and she truly believed him capable of it.

Sophie’s heart raced, feeling like it was going to burst from her chest.

Kenneth and Dean turned to her. “Uh… yeah?” came Kenneth’s tentative reply.

“Good,” she said in a slightly-too-high-pitched voice, despite her best efforts to remain calm. She began to usher them towards her front door. “Off you go!” Her voice was too nervous not to betray her fear, no matter how she tried to appear unaffected. In fact, it was only getting worse as the seconds passed.

Then she felt eyes on her and horror zinged down her spine. Jerking towards the window, she confirmed that the curtains had been successfully closed. So… how?

Not having any more time to think on the issue, she almost shoved them towards the door.

“Hey!” Kenneth protested. “What’s the sudden rush?”

“Everything okay?” Dean asked, not as oblivious as Kenneth and obviously catching wind of her panic.

Sophie shook her head. “Everything’s-”

She saw the flicker of a shadow from the corner of her eye, just in her peripheral vision. Upon recognizing the silhouette whose shadow was just noticeable on the wall by the staircase, she knew immediately that Mikhail was standing on the stairs just out of sight; she wouldn’t have known it if the light wasn’t outlining him just right.

“Out! Out!” she said shrilly, heart frozen in her chest.

Kenneth looked at her strangely and Dean gave her a look that promised questions later, but within moments they were out the door safely, even if they were bubbling with suspicion. Exhaling in relief and slumping against the door, she tried to catch her breath.

Said breath was snatched away when Mikhail spoke, his tone frigid.

“I told you to be alone.

“Th-they weren’t meant to be here this late! I lost track of time!” she stammered fearfully. “It-it won’t happen again.”

He sniffed haughtily. “For their sakes, I certainly hope not.” He observed her and seemed pleased with what he saw. “Good. You slept.”

Sophie nodded in hesitant confirmation. It was true; the bags under her eyes were noticeably better after her deep, restful sleep last night. Her skin had regained some of its pallor and over all, she looked much healthier. She still wore the scarf and the bruises on her forearms from the night before had been covered up with a generous slathering of concealer, but other than the scarf and the slightly darker tone of her arms, she appeared perfectly normal.

Mikhail descended down the staircase slowly and every deliberate step made her shiver. She vaguely recalled not being afraid of him momentarily at dinner last night, but it seemed like a far-off memory with how threatening he was making himself as he approached her—his eyes never wavered from hers and she could see the hunger in his red irises. Unfortunately, she knew now the color wasn’t due to contacts.

He stopped once he was directly in front of her. Long, claw-tipped fingers grasped her chin and tilted it upwards, then turned it side to side. She couldn’t help but wonder fearfully what he was thinking. What was putting that thoughtful expression on his face?

It was revealed soon enough. He suddenly jerked her toward him and forced his lips onto hers, much like the night previous.

She shrieked and instinctively tried to pull away. However, the low, dangerous growl that was emitted from deep within his throat brought her to pause.

Still gripping her chin tightly, he pressed her up against her front door. She whimpered as the doorknob pressed into her back but he ignored her discomfort, pushing his tongue into her mouth and exploring heatedly.

Sophie’s stomach turned in disgust at the passion that was evident in the kiss and she couldn’t stop the helpless tears that leaked from her eyes as she closed them in resignation. Kissing wasn’t so bad, she supposed, but if he tried to take it further, she couldn’t just not fight him.

She knew, even though she wanted to deny it, that he probably wouldn’t stop at kissing that night.

He pulled away, allowing her to breathe as he began to fondle her, brushing his thumbs over her clothed nipples roughly. Her stomach churned uncomfortably at his unwanted touch and she wanted to beg him to stop, but then he was kissing her again and her words were caught in her throat.

His hands trailed down from her heaving chest to her waist, running down her sensitive sides, before he gripped her rear and pulled her hips against his. She felt a bulge in his pants and the sudden realization that he might rape her brought a new rush of panic.

She shoved at his chest, desperately trying to put some space between them and let out a loud cry of protest into his mouth. He punished her by crushing her brutally into the wall, the pressure making it even harder to breathe as he growled like a predatory animal.

His tongue was still tangling passionately with hers, even though she made no motion to reciprocate. Then he abruptly slid his hands down from her rear and parted her thighs, lifting her legs effortlessly and forcing them to wrap around his waist.

Sophie shrieked and fought harder at the intimate touch of his groin against her core, clawing at his front in a vain attempt to hurt him enough to get him to back off. Her panic only increased as he began to grind into her. She tried to twist away from the kiss, to tell him to stop, but with the painful pressure he was applying to her lips kept her head stuck in place.

At long last he let her breathe when he pulled away and she could only gasp for air as he trailed kisses down her jawline in the direction of her neck. He paused right over his previous bite.

“We’re going to conduct an experiment,” he told her, but before she could say anything, he reopened her wounds and bit down harshly.

Only a small, pained whimper passed her lips as he let her blood flow into his mouth. She wasn’t sure what experiment he was supposedly conducting, but she thought it might have something to do with her blood when he pulled away from her neck only shortly after he bit her.

Then he was backing away from the door, keeping her anchored to him by her legs. Within moments they were back on the couch and Sophie knew what was going to come next. It had happened so quickly she hadn’t even had time to protest.

“No! No!” she screamed. He smirked at her wickedly.

“I came prepared this time,” was his non-sequitur response, and then he pulled a thick black piece of fabric out of his back pocket.

She was about to beg him to stop when he suddenly stuffed the rag into her mouth, jamming it in fully. She immediately tried to remove it, but he pinned her wrists together and then his belt was restraining her arms, just as it had the first time this had happened.

Sophie screamed desperately at her complete, utter helplessness, but the rag did its job in muffling her voice. Yet again he ripped through her shirt and she thought, in such hysterical denial that it was almost funny, that she shouldn’t have worn one of her favorite shirts that day, nor should she do so any other time Mikhail told her he would visit her.

The bra was next to go and he cupped her breasts, rubbing clawed fingertips over her nipples until they pebbled. Her skin prickled in revulsion but there was nothing she could do but thrash and cry uselessly. His mouth latched onto her right breast just as he removed his hands to unbutton her jeans. She bucked to try and dislodge him, but he only returned the action by grinding his pelvis into hers. He had hardened considerably since the very beginning—what had once just been a bulge was a formidable hardness that spoke of pain in what was probably the near future.

He removed her jeans entirely that time with quick maneuvering, bringing her innocent white cotton panties with them instead of shredding them. He was still suckling her breast, alternately nipping her with his fangs painfully and soothing the little bites with his inhumanly heatless tongue.

She let out a wretched, muffled cry when she felt the stirrings of arousal in her lower abdomen.

Mikhail quickly spread her thighs once more, having allowed them to close in order to take off her jeans and panties, and was tickling her most sensitive area with his claw. It was unfortunately arousing despite the knowledge that in an easy, singular moment of harshness he could cut her there very painfully.

Having fully attended to her right breast, he switched to her left with growing fervor and two fingers were pushed into her core. She winced and whimpered at the uncomfortable stretching feeling, but was despairingly thankful that he hadn’t cut her like last time.

He immediately targeted her traitorous bundle of nerves, his tempo so precise and rapid that against her will, she started bucking her hips in time with movements.

Her abdomen clenched so hard it almost hurt when she suddenly came. A loud moan, strained as it was when she tried to choke it down, erupted from her throat as she spasmed around him.

He pulled away from her breast and then quickly bit down in her neck, breaking through the marks, barely scabbed over, in the same place he always seemed to target.

She was only under the illusion that he would stop for a moment. He pulled away from her neck, although much more quickly than she thought he would, and she thought her shameful ordeal was over. However, he only yanked the black fabric from her mouth and replaced it with his lips and tongue. The movement of his fingers resumed, faster and harder than before.

It took less time than before to make her come again and he swallowed her cry with his lips this time, the volume raising due to her heightened sensitivity after the first orgasm.

Using his free hand to cover her mouth, he returned to her neck and tasted her again, but only briefly before kissing her again and then forcing her to orgasm once more. She gagged at the taste of her blood in his mouth, but he ignored it.

She lost track of time and refused to count how many times he shamefully made her come and then fed on her, but what she did know that it was too many times. Just once was too many by her standards, but by the time he latched onto her neck and began to feed in earnest, her thighs were trembling from how hard they’d clenched repeatedly and her body was lax and weak. She didn’t have the energy to even open her eyes, not even to scream when her mouth was no longer covered. Even her tears had stopped from her extreme exhaustion.

She was nearing unconsciousness when he at last licked over the skin he’d broken and got off her. She was so defeated by the humiliating experience that she couldn’t find it within her to worry about whether he was going to remove the belt from around her wrists.

When he returned, she was vaguely surprised to find that he was holding a glass of orange juice, one of the groceries she’d bought the day after he’d first assaulted her.

“Drink,” he commanded. When he lifted the glass to her lips, it was all she could do to slightly part them and allow the juice to flow into her mouth. In some part of her mind she felt like she should protest, but there was such authority in his tone that she couldn’t muster up the will to fight. She swallowed sluggishly and he tipped the glass slowly until she’d drank all of it. Her stomach protested the liquid, but she was able to keep it down without more trouble than she could handle.

Then the belt was removed and Sophie let out a soft sigh of relief that he would finally be leaving, her eyelids barely able to open. She decided she would simply fall asleep on the couch because there was no way she could muster the energy to climb that long staircase and somehow make it to her bed.

Her train of thought didn’t get that far because suddenly she was being lifted up. Mikhail had one arm in the crook of her knees and the other under her shoulders, cradling her small body against his chest.

She knew she wasn’t thinking clearly when she willingly rested her head against him, closing her eyes and wishing to fall asleep. It was horrifying to think that she could find even the slightest respite with him after all the horrible things he did to her, and yet she was asleep before they were even halfway up the staircase.

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