There was a sharp prick, almost like two large needles entering my arm side by side, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from my chapped lips. This doesn't hurt like I expected it would, but it does hurt. It's very different to every other time a vampire has fed on me. Every vampire before Remington has wracked my body with pain, almost killing me as my blood is taken and the world grows dull. It always took everything in me to either use my magic to travel far away, or survive for whatever life I had left. But Remington, even as his molten eyes glow with pain and desperation, takes care to be gentle, nimble fingers just barely holding up my arm to his blood stained lips.

Sebastian stops struggling with an annoyed sigh, sitting back down on the couch across from me, head in his hands and fingers tangled in his hair. I don't entirely notice as I'm focused on Remington, his golden eyes boring into my own with such intensity I almost want to look away. His mouth is on my wrist for only a few moments, my blood being sucked out from the small puncture wounds. I've gotten blood tests before, painful ones done by people who didn't care whether it hurt or not, and I couldn't feel my blood leaving my body then, but now, now I can.

When he retracts his fangs from my arm, licks the spot, and pulls back, the frown on his face is prominent. "You know I didn't want this."

"I chose to do it, even knowing the consequences. I didn't care." I murmur, watching in a dazed awe as the holes close up at an exceptional speed, even for me.

"Who told her?" He demands, grimacing as he attempts to sit up, releasing his already loose grip on my arm so that I could pull it back to my chest.

"I did. You were poisoned with nightshade and were going to die. I wouldn't allow that to happen." Emerson's eyes are alight with determination, not backing down.

I take a look at his wounds, which look much better now. They're already not as swollen and seem to have gotten slightly smaller, the purple veins fading away before my eyes. It seems to already be healing, though not as quickly as usual.

"Lay back down Remington." I push lightly on his chest, a frown gracing my lips as he moves to stand up.

'Stop sweetness. I asked- no, I begged them not to tell you. To not let you give me your blood for any reason.' Even his voice in my head is angry, taking on a slight snarl.

'No. You might have died. I know about what's probably going to happen now that you've drank my blood and I'm entirely fine with it. Now lay the fuck back down so Emerson can heal you.'

To the other brothers, Rem and I's mental conversation must have looked strange. We just sat there, glaring at each other intensely, eyes burning with a fierce gold.

"Fine." He bites out in aggravation, breaking our staredown.

An angry pout graces his pretty lips as he lays back on the couch, an arm hanging off the side and laying mostly on the ground. Emerson crouches beside me as I take Rem's hand. "Thank you Emerson." I thank, giving him a gracious grin.

He smiles back lightly in that particular way of his, seeming almost like a smirk but not quite. As Remington grumbles in annoyance, I watch as Emerson's hands begin to glow a vibrant green, his eyes flashing a brilliant gold. The still aggravated wound slowly closes up the longer Emerson's glowing hands hover over the injury. I watch curiously as it slowly closes, the skin appearing to stitch itself back together. My eyes flutter and I let out a silent sigh as I lean my head on a free space on the edge of the couch, one hand holding tightly to Remington's. I'm so tired. I drift in and out of consciousness, my mind lost in the haze of my light sleep. "She's misting again."

I snap to attention, moving to stand up. I shake my head, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes. "I'll be- be fine. I promise. Let's just go Und-underground. I'll just need a nap when we get home. I've had blood dr-drawn before, this is nothing." I reassure, ignoring my fingertips misting up and disappearing.

'Elizabeth, you need to go home and rest.' Andy tries to convince me.

'No. They need this blood. I'm not going to be the reason, again, that they can't make it to the Underground to get any.'

"You've lost a lost of blood sweetness. At least let us wrap up your wounds for you." Remington states gently, eyes soft and caring.

"The effect isn't spreading so everything's okay. I'm just a little weak right now. I promise." I reassure again, focusing on not stuttering.

I watch as they glance between each other, blood still staining Remingtons mouth. They nod after a moment, coming to a conclusion.

"We'll make this quick since we can't go any longer without blood. It's been bad enough since we've been interuppted everytime we try and get here. We can't let this chance go by." Sebastian states, the final say so.

Remington sighs and gets up off the couch. His movements are sluggish but quickly gaining color to his skin. I watch, relieved, as life bleeds back into his pale palor.

"This is a supernatural club, there has to be some medical supplies somewhere. I'll be back, sweetness. Keep an eye on her for me, will you?" With that said, Remington leaves.

(When that door closes behind him, Remington's stride is full of fury, every step a stomp of anger and fear. His carefully constructed mask, a last ditch effort to not show how absolutely terrified he is of what is to come, falls all at once. Around him, supernaturals part to get out of his way. He's covered in splatters of blood, tattoos on full display. The slowly healing wounds catch the eye of many onlookers and everyone wants to know just who managed to catch him off guard. Eyes flashing red, scales covering his cheekbones and temples, nails transformed into claws. He is a terrifying sight and vampires, witches and warlocks, werewolves and ghouls alike all move out of the way. This is Mr. Doctor Man. Remington Leith. One of the Infamous hybrid brothers known to every supernatural alive and undead. Tales of his bloody past are whispered as he makes his way to the bar.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" He asks, barely contained rage bleeding into his tone.

'Remington, it'll be fine.' Andy tries to reassure.

'You didn't stop them.' Remington accuses, pissed off, eyes glowing gold.

'They told her, briefly, what this could mean. Even so, her thoughts suggested she wanted it. Remington, she didn't want you to die, didn't want us to leave her.'

At Andy's words, some of the fury flows out of Remington. His shoulders sag momentarily before remembering where he was, and his guard is raised again.

The bartender, a ghoul with one eye and a nervous smile, nods her head. She saw his eyes, golden and clearly meant to threaten. She reaches behind the counter, pulling out a small but functional little box. Opening it, Remington grabs gauze and some antiseptic wipes. Thanking her, he turns on his heel to go his back to his promised.

'I'm sorry for getting pissy with you.' He sends down the bond with all of his regret and his fear over what has happened and is to come, heart laid bare for Andy.

'I know dear, its alright. I appreciate the apology but it wasn't necessary. You're scared, I understand, but have more faith in her and her love for us.'

What did Remington ever do in his six hundred or so years of life to deserve not just one promised, but two, who are so accepting of his faults and forgiving of his past mistakes. Every moment of his eternity will forever be devoted to them, so, so thankful for this impossible chance to love and be loved like he had wanted so desperately for the entirety of his life.)

I don't see where Remington went, quick to doze off against the couch once more. "Here, Eliza, let's get you up on the couch and off the floor. Who knows what has been on these floors." Emerson pauses, careful hands helping me stand, "Or on the couch, for that matter. Nothing to be done about it though."

He helps me sit, hands firm in their hold as I practically collapse back onto the cushions. Between my injuries earlier, and the blood I'd just given Remington, I should probably be out cold right now. Every nerve in my body is alight with mild pain, and I know if I continue to use my magic without resting, its only going to get worse. This is what always happens.

Between one moment and the next, what I thought was a mere blink, Sebastian is there, a damp towel in one hand. He leans over me and begins wiping away at some of the blood. By the time Remington returns, the blood that had leaked from my ears and eyes has been mostly cleaned up.

Sebastian moves aside for Remington to take his spot. Taking my arm in a gentle grip, Remington cleans off the large but no longer bleeding wound on my arm. Shadoes scatter at his touch, eating away at the dried blood. The whole limb aches in pain, and I wonder why it's always my arms or legs taking the brunt of my injuries. I hiss as the sting of the antiseptic in the wipes hits, arm jerking back involuntarily. Remington is quick to wrap the wound up, apology after apology falling from his lips with every wince or whimper of pain. Before I'd started living with them, I never would have allowed myself to freely vocalize my pain. I- I am proud that I've come so far. I really don't have to be afraid of them getting angry at me, or hurting me. The realization strikes me now, as it has struck me so many other times with my boys. I'm safe here. I have a family who cares about me, who wants to know how I'm feeling and what I like or don't like. They're my home.

As he's wrapping up my neck, winding the gauze around and around, I doze off, jerking awake every couple of seconds from the pain. "Alright sweetness, let's go." Remington addresses me first then his brothers, "This is to be done quickly, and I don't care if we have to threaten some people into supplying us."

"Of course." Sebastian smiles with a tilt of his head, a menacing thing that shows off sharp fangs.

I sway as I completely stand, and Remington is quick to wrap an arm around my shoulders to steady me. Emerson slips a knife into the holster on my right thigh, and I barely manage to recognize that its the one I lost earlier. "Here Eliza, you dropped this earlier."

I murmur out a tired thank you, reaching up a hand to cough into it. As a group, we move towards the door resting unassuming as the only object against the far wall of the room. I take in what I hadn't noticed when we got here. Mirrors of all shapes and sizes litter the walls, all of them having fancy frames. The ceiling and walls are dark blue, the flooring a glittering mass of purple and blue tile that shines with specks of glitter. It looks like a galaxy under our feet and the open doorway reflects the floors design. In the corner of the room is another door, beside the couch we were using. Its plain, a dull brown with chipped edges and a rusting handle. Outside, there's the sound of glasses clinking and laughter, thundering music bouncing off the walls.

"Its a supernatural nightclub. We can show you on the way out." Emerson comments, helping Remington pull me along.

I'd gotten lost in the galaxy below us and forgot for a moment what we were doing. I'm terribly tired, so my brain isn't currently all here.

We move to the door and travel through one after the other. Remington never let's go of me as the galaxy swallows us up.

As the stars fade, I'm left staring out into a busy street. As our group appears, heads turn. Sebastian is still covered in blood and Emerson very clearly has a bloody sleeve and hand. Remingtons shirt is torn on the back, not to mention his bloody mouth and my wounded wrist, gauze wrapped around my neck while I'm still covered in blood. We must look a sight to see.

The streets are cold cobblestone, with buildings lined up in packed rows of architecture from many different eras and cultures, like the people who crowd the streets. The most prominent theme is Gothic cathedral-esque buildings lit by electric lampposts that looked so old I thought they still used a burning flame to glow. Far above us is a sea of swirling magic that acts as a constantly changing sky weaving between enormous white stalactites, the same purple/blue galaxies as the door we stepped out of. Fairy lights line the doors and windows of all the shops and homes we pass by, multicolored streamers strung along from rooftop to rooftop. Music of all sorts can be heard from different places as the edge of the Underground ceiling stretches farther out than I can see. There seems to be different areas too, separated by winding staircases and bridges, with spiral buildings and intricately carved archways. Crates and barells line the streets, flowers overflow from home windows and plants grow along the walls as far as the eye can see. Tables and chairs and benches are placed wherever there's open space between the vegetation somehow flourishing without the suns rays. I'd never seen anything so beautiful and eclectic in my life.

The Undergound is a breathtaking sight to behold, like a fever dream.

As we pass through, whispers follow. I manage to understand the ones spoken in English.

"Those are the infamous Kropp brothers."

"They're late for their usual pickup."

"Didn't you hear? No one has been willing to serve them."

"What?! But they're terrifying. Who would have the balls not to supply them?"

"Quiet! They heard you! Some call her the Firefly-"

The boys share a look, Emerson pointedly gesturing to me, though I'm too sluggish to notice. They whisper conspiratorially, too quiet for my human ears to catch. "That must be why all our suppliers turned against us."

Sebastian and Remington nod once, keeping up their aloof facades.

"Do you see that girl with them? Those scars really mess up whatever beauty she might have had."

"Do you think she's their new toy? I didn't know they liked damaged goods."

"Those three? They don't play with their food."

"Do you think they'd let us have a little bite? She smells... absolutely delicious and they've clearly already had their turn."

At those last words, Remington bears his fangs. He pulls me closer, eyes shining a stunning gold as I try to turn my head to hide my face with his chest. I know my scars are horrifying to look at, I hate them. I hate them too. But I can't get rid of them, they're apart of me. They'll never go away.

"Mine." He growls out.

For a moment, there's a blast of heat as a large shadow seems to stretch out above Remington. The shadow has kuduzela* horns and razor sharp claws, looking distinctly human nonetheless. Embers crackle as the shadow looms with molten lava for eyes. The one who spoke scampers away with a whimper, stuttering out apologies that fall on deaf ears.

Andy laughs in my head, weak and somewhat hoarse, watching as fear passes over the faces of those around us. 'That and my little trick earlier took so much magic out of me but damn was it worth it.'

'I don't quite know what you did but it must've been impressive.' Remington replies.

I send him the image through our bond and he smirks, all sharp fangs and fatal edge that I've never seen on him before.

"She's not to be touched." Emerson begins, as his and Sebastian's eyes glow as well. "She's ours."

"If anyone so much as lays a hand on her or speaks a word against her, they'll find their limbs removed and shoved so far up their asses they'll taste their own bone marrow as they choke on their last breaths. Spread the word." Sebastian hisses out, exuding an aura of danger.

I'd never seen him look so threatening in the entire time I've known him, but I'm not afraid. The people part to let us through, some running off to likely 'spread the word.' A raven caws nearby and I turn to look for it. How odd. What's a raven doing down here?

"Is there something wrong, sweetness?" Remington asks, pulling me even closer, to him.

I shake my head no. I must've imagined it. I'm snug against his side as we walk, close enough for the borrowed warmth of his body to seep into my clammy skin. Emerson is at my other side, holding my hand securely as Sebastian leads us through the streets. I would love nothing more than to take in the majesty of the Underground but every step is like sloshing through mud. Thankfully, we seem to reach our destination soon enough.

A small shop sits by one of the bridges, vines and flowers covering its outer walls and hanging off its shingled roof. Through the plants, I can see detailed designs etched onto the building. "Its baroque. Most of the buildings here are based on that architecture. The Undergound was built sometime in the 17th century underneath Prague in the Czech Republic by a friendly coven of witches and a coven of vampires. There's three doors in America that magically lead down here, one of which we used. Supernaturals, but mainly vampires, live here, since no sunlight ever reaches this far belowground. The rings we bear are few and hard to come by." Emerson explains, noticing how in awe I am of the architecture of the Underground.

'Andy can you manifest long enough to watch her? If things get... dicey, I don't want her to see and she needs to sit.' Remington asks, leading me over to a bench to sit down.

I sit heavily, legs nearly giving out on me. I take a deep breath, trying to feel out how my magic is coming along in replenishing itself. It is building back up, but at a snails pace. Losing so much blood so quickly after shadow traveling all four of us to the entrance to the Underground should've knocked me out immediately. Maybe this means I'm finally getting a bit stronger? Or was it nothing short of pure determination? Who knows.

'I... I'm sorry. I can't manifest physically. But, I can bring my shadow out like I did before. I won't be able to manifest like that again for a while though, and anything more will be impossible for a long while.'

'I'm sorry to ask this of you, but please manifest your shadow. I trust her with you, but not with any of the people down here. They've all been eyeing her funny. I don't like it.' Remington replies.

Andy hums his agreement, his shadow fizzling into existence behind me. It flickers like its caught in candlelight, but remains strong nonetheless.

"We'll be right back, sweetness." Remington says, kissing my forehead before he and the other two walk into the building next to us.

Everything is a bit of a blur from there, moments pass in the blink of an eye as I lean onto the armrest of the bench, gripping a dagger in hand, just in case. I slip in and out of sleep, Andy a firm presence in my mind and his shadow behind me as a silent but vigilant protector.

::

To onlookers, they'd see a young woman slumped onto a bench outside of an unassuming building. Behind her guards the silhouette of a demon, molten eyes and spiraling horns flickering on the wall. The sight causes them to steer clear away. Of course, there are those who venture too close without care for their safety, sensing the magic in the human, but able to tell she's not a witch. They meet a dagger at their throats and a mismatched glare while a horned nightmare of a shadow lunges at them. Nothing else needs to be done before they're scared off.

A raven sits idly, watching the girl. It catalogues every minor movement she makes, taking in the sentient shadow behind her. It has much to relay back to its master.

The boys are only in the small shop for less than an hour, quickly coming back out with a few Styrofoam boxes piled up in their arms. They come back out to find Eliza asleep, an arm under her head as she leans against the armrest of the bench. As soon as Andy knows they're there with her, he rests a clawed shadow hand on her head gently before disappearing entirely back into Remington.

Sebastian moves to pick her up, to carry her back home, but Elizabeth awakes with her knife pointed at his throat. It seems to be a trend between the two now. Sebastian smiles, letting the girl realize who he is and waits while she puts her knife away. Since she's awake now, there's no need for her to be carried unless she cannot walk. He holds out a hand to her, to which she takes it, allowing Sebastian to hoist her to her feet, and keeps a firm hold on her hand. As a group, they make their way back through the Underground and back home.

Emerson does indeed tell Eliza about the supernatural nightclub they'd have entered through to get to the doorway to the Undergound, but can tell she won't really remember most of it. He doesn't mind. Emerson will gladly repeat anything she wants to hear.

::

Back at home after the long day, finally, Emerson and Remington take their boxes of packaged blood to stick in the fridge. Rem's voice is a dull, concerned murmur in my ears and I faintly hear Sebastian's fond and equally concerned affirmation. I've tried desperately to stay awake so I could take in the Underground. I'm disappointed to say I don't remember a lot of the trip.

"Make sure she eats something. I took too much blood when she was already drained of energy."

His voice is clear, not muffled like everything else, drowning in self-abhorrence and regret. I want to say something, anything, to help clear those thoughts from his head but I know nothing I say will work. No matter how fine I am with what he has done, he has hated himself for far too long for what he is for me to be able to convince him otherwise so soon. It will be a slow process, one I'm willing to work on. Laying my head against Seb's chest as he picks me up, I take comfort in the feel of his suit, the material a soft and smooth deep blue velvet, splattered with dried blood. "Thank you." I murmur, swaying lightly with the motion of him walking up the stairs, my nausea getting worse.

"No problem Eliza." His voice is soft, getting duller as he speaks, my ears ringing.

"Here, eat this." After sitting me up on the bed, I watch through bleary eyes as he hands me an energy bar; one of those oat ones with the chocolate chips, my favorite kind as of recently.

Ruffling my hair as I open the package, he stays for merely a moment as I chew, leaving once he knows I'm not going to choke on it. Gosh, I hope I don't puke this up. Tossing the wrapper away into a nearby trash bin, I close my eyes, focusing on the power I know lies within me (but also to help with the nauseating feeling swirling in my tummy). It's like a warmth in my chest, different from happiness, and contrasting greatly against my sickness. It's not an emotion, it's the magics manifestation in my soul.

Good. Some of my energy is back, and with it, some of my nausea passes.

'Are you feeling better darling? We're both worried.'

'Yes, the snack I was given helped. Thank you for watching over me earlier.'

'It was my pleasure my dear. I'm not quite sure what I'd do if something were to happen to you. Or Remington.' Andy replies, a feeling of disquiet sneaking its way into his voice.

Opening my eyes as the door creaks open, I watch through slightly blurred vision as Remington walks in. The room lightens from where my shadows had darkened it, skittering about playfully at my feet and nipping at my hands, following at Remingtons heels. He frustratedly runs a hand through his hair, the spikes flat on one side, casting me an equally as frustrated glance. I remain silent as he stalks into the bathroom. I lay to the side, dozing in and out of sleep, my body heavy with exhaustion. I snap awake at the bathroom door opening and closing, catching Remington with his hair wet and down, an unreadable expression upon his visage.

"Remy?" His name is nearly silent as it leaves my lips, an unsure lilt to my words.

He's upset with me. He has to be. The way he's acting now reminds me of when I didn't want to get close to the vampires and Remington was afraid of what would happen between us. "I didn't want to force this on you but at this point, it's inevitable." His words are bitter, anger still underlying his tone, sharp enough to cut through my worried thoughts.

He pauses, bringing up his hands to fist in his wet hair, angry tears clumping up his dark eyelashes. "Fuck I want to mark you so bad. I hadn't felt this urge until I met you and shit, it's so fucking tempting right now."

He walks over, tossing his towel on the ground after one last aggressive ruffle through his damp hair as he falls onto the bed with a huff, face buried into the comforter. "I already told you I was okay with it." I mutter, fiddling with the hair band on my wrist, repeatedly pulling it and letting it go so it will snap back into my skin painfully, the feeling helping to wake me up a little bit more.

"Don't do that, my sweetness." He mutters with a grimace, turning his head towards me and reaching his hand out to slip the band off my wrist. "You don't understand what this would mean for us."

He sits up as I watch him, rubbing lightly at the spot where the hair band made an indent in my skin, the area red and slightly sore to the touch. Moving behind me, he says a spell, the hairbrush on the bathroom counter flying across the room to levitate slowly into his waiting palm. The latin language rolls smoothly off his tongue, sounding rather alluring if I were to be honest. "*Detrahet me."

"Then explain it to me." I request, leaning into him.

He is quick to wrap me up in a somewhat warm hug, holding me to him tightly as his arms cross over my chest with ease. Gentle kisses are pressed to the side of my head, once, twice, three times. "I will, later, sweetness. Let me braid your hair first and then you need to rest." I nod my assent, the idea of sleeping sounds heavenly.

He pulls away reluctantly after one last chaste kiss to my cheek this time and I bask in the tender affections he gives so freely. Remington begins to brush my hair, after removing the clips he put in to keep it up in an intricate bun and I honestly couldn't be more thankful for his existence in that moment, suddenly swarmed with all of the wonderful things he's done for me. How nice he is to me, gentle, kind. Loving. Everything I ever wanted, from anyone. Him and Andy treat me with such devoted care. Andy, always so careful not to hurt me, warmth in every action both from his body heat and his tender touch. They're both quick to reassure me when I need it and I try to do the same though I struggle.

They're all I've ever wanted.

"You're so wonderful to me."

The words are spilled without hesitance as Remy continues the motions, slightly tugging at the knots I'd gained earlier in the day.

"I try my sweetness. You deserve nothing less than the best I can offer you."

Andy gives a low hum of agreement, the fatigue he feels seeping into our bond and weighing all three of us down just a little bit. I wonder where his exhaustion ends and mine begins.

We sit in silence as he continues to brush my hair, eventually putting the brush down and simply running his hands through the somewhat thick strands, my eyes falling shut in relaxation. I doze lightly, leaning into his touch as my nerves light up with those pleasurable little tingles that soften my heart.

My hair is braided quickly, Remington quietly letting me know he is done and pulling me to lay down next to him. I cuddle close, as close as I physically can, not wanting to be separated. What I wouldn't give to be with him all the time, his presence such a constant source of happiness despite our very few disagreements on how things should be handled. Its the same with Andy, too. I would love for him to be here with us, where he belongs.

"Sleep, Elizabeth." Remington lulls before turning his attention to Andy, "Do you need to sleep dear?"

'Not usually, only when my magic is low. Like any other supernatural, technically. I definitely need to sleep now.'

"How does that even work since you're in my head mainly?"

'I'm genuinely not quite sure, I try not to think about the specifics since they're complicated and often unexplainable.' Andy replies.

I take in their conversation like I'm underwater, drifting to and away from consciousness like waves on a shore. Their chat is interesting, and I would love to hear it but I'm so tired, I'll simply ask them about it later.

::

I awaken to Remington holding me in his arms, some of the warmth he usually has a nice add-on to the blanket he'd laid over me. I stay still as his chilly fingers brush against my collarbone, featherlight touch a gentle caress of longing. My nausea has long since passed, sleep having washed away most of my magical exhaustion.

"If I were to mark you as mine, it would be right here."

His adoring yet morose voice breaks the silence between us, startling me slightly and causing my eyes to fly open from their closed state. Slight pressure is placed on the area between my collarbone and shoulder and I shudder as the pleasurable tingles from our touch amplifies exceptionally.

"Then why don't you?"

"I'm afraid, sweetness. Afraid I'll lose you after committing my entire being to your existence. Afraid of what this will mean for the both of us, my dark side is who I'm most well known as, and who I'm most afraid of. More than I ever was of Andy. We have enemies and you're already prey to those who hunt you. I don't want to do that to you."

"I don't care Remington. This is my life. It's going to be like this until the day I die, or the unlikely chance that I'm no longer wanted by the supernatural world."

I turn around on the bed, facing Remington as I place my hands on his cheeks, my touch as gentle as his always is. Staring into his chocolate eyes, I try to convey just how much I love him, how absolutely positive I am that I want to be his.

"I want to be yours." He murmurs in reply to my thoughts, eyes flashing gold as the same color glimmers on his lips in a wordless spell of silence.

"Only if you'll be mine." I reply, pink lips stretching into a playful smile.

I gasp as he kisses me, firm yet tender, his lips trailing down my jaw, light pecks tickling my skin. Upon reaching the place he said the mark was supposed to go, he lifts his head back up to stare at me, an air of seriousness about him, though his gaze remains as loving as his soul.

"This will make our bond permanent. Our lives will be joined as one, our souls intertwined for eternity. As long as one of our souls remain in tact, we will never be parted by death. When I mark you, I will be hungry. For blood I'm sure. For you and everything you will allow me to take. Are you sure about this my sweetness?"

"I want you, for as long as you'll have me."

He nods ever so slightly, a mere twitch of his head in acknowledgement, and I watch in awe as his lips glow gold again, much like when he performs spells.

"With you by my side, and Andrew with our souls, I will never be lonely again."

He moves his mouth over that spot, touching his lips to my skin firmly. A buzz of joy immediately zooms through my system, the overwhelming happiness causing me to grin widely. Small pulses of pleasure leave the area in short waves as he speaks to me.

"Gather your magic to your lips and place them exactly where I placed mine. Think of your intention as well, this won't work unless you're specifically aiming to join our souls as one."

I do as he says, not entirely sure I'm doing it right. Nervously, I place my lips right above his collarbone, on his left shoulder, unable to tell if my lips were gold as his were. Opening my eyes from their previously hesitantly scrunched state, I gasp lightly at the image painting itself on his skin before my very eyes. I watch in fascination as a black rose slowly blooms, each petal unfurling from the bud in a graceful manner. A tingle spreads over my skin and I know in my heart that that same rose is being mirrored on my own body. Grinning, Remington hesitantly gets off the bed, leading me into the bathroom. Upon inspection of my collarbone, my gaze is filled with wonder at the beautiful symbol on my skin, intertwined with my black rose as though it was always meant to be. Its hard to describe exactly what it is, the black swirls and lines all coming together to form a beautiful art piece on my skin.

Andy's presence suddenly comes to the forefront, a hopeful push of magic down our bond floods both of our systems. Remington and I gasp, turning to each other as the same buzzing under our skin erupts suddenly, like before. We watch, both fascinated as we stare in awe at each others collars as the faint outline of red asters etches itself into our skin, small little blooms unfurling in the open spaces of the swirling design of Remingtons symbol.

'The red aster is mine, I think. They mean devotion...' Andy's voice echoes through our link, his tone that of pride and absolute elation and the finest glimmer of a burning hope.

A smile graces my lips as Remington leads me back to the bed again, a different sort of hunger in his gaze, eyes alight with burning desire. "*Clauditis." He breathes, cool breath fanning my face as he takes my lips with his own, the click of the door locking lost in the intensity of our kiss.

For just a moment, that old fear flashes through me, but it is gone just as quick. I'm with Remington. He would never lock me away.

"You're mine." He whispers, over and over, even as he lifts my shirt over my head.

'This is where I bid you all a very fond goodnight. I am not terribly interested in pleasures of the flesh.' Andy states, tender yet uninterested.

"I love you." I gasp out, breathy from Remingtons careful ministrations.

Both of my soulmayes echo the sentiment, and then Andy's presence from our minds disperses.

My vampire nips at my open skin wherever he can, his fangs stinging slightly but not in a bad way. Every once in a while, he bites down fully. Remington doesn't drink, merely leaves holes where his fangs had been. The touch of his hands as they travel across the skin of my bare stomach lights an unfamiliar heat within me, every savory caress of a scar or beauty mark fuel to the fire.

He is worshipping me. I find myself wanting to do the same. My crooked fingers find their way to his chest, resting there as I let his hands roam. Reverently, I begin to trace his tattoos, a shiver tearing through him at the ghostly light touches.

"And you're mine." I return, running my hands through his hair, the pitch black strands still damp.

One hand reaches to tug gently at the base of his scalp, soft black hair smooth between my fingers, and with a moment of careful deliberation, I pull him down to me, our lips meeting and sparks flying between us. As he deepens the kiss, my other hand pulls him further into me by wrapping around his shoulder, fingers splaying over his back. Pee hand comes to rest over my hip, thumb grazing a puckered scar there.

I want him as close as possible. His warmth, his smell, the steady, slow beating of his not-quite-dead heart. I want it to be difficult to tell where I end and he begins. I want him. Everything he is, everything he has been, everything he will be. I want it all, as long as its Remington. If Andy never desires this intimate act, then that is fine. He is mine, as I am his, and we are Remington's. Its us. Together. For as long as fate will allow us.

::

*detrahet me: 'bring me' in latin, according to Google translate.

*Clauditis: Lock in latin, according to Google translate.

(Sounds like a fuckin disease bro 😂)

Also, I realize that I cannot AT ALL describe Palaye's symbol 😂