My fingers tremble with terror. It grips me so tightly I can scarcely breathe, much less conjure an intelligent response. I want to spill my guts, tell him everything I had done since I'd awoken from my sleep, but, even as I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Inwardly I flinch, feeling every second tick by, knowing that my lack of an explanation only compounds Adrian's wrath. I need to speak, not just in my defense, but to quell his fury.

"What is it that you think you're doing? Answer me!" His question comes a second time, and I gasp, waking from my stupor, hearing that his patience is at an end.

"I-I was only-" I remain rooted, my hands still clutching the mortar and pestle tightly, every inch of me trembles "I-I'm trying to ten-tend to my injuries. I swear, I only-"

A snort of bitter laughter chirps between us, and I know, even before he speaks, he doesn't believe me.

"You mortals lie as easily as you breathe," he hisses, and I feel the air in my lungs rush out of me.

No, I'm not lying, I swear! "B-but I'm not-"

"I'm not finished! " Adrian snaps and advances into the room.

Instinctively I draw back until I'm pressed against the cabinets, afraid that my last few breaths on this Earth will be taken in fear.

"You'd think, after all of the betrayals I've suffered at the hands of you filthy mortals, I'd have learned to stop trusting you!" Violently, his accusations slap me across the cheek, and I can feel the feverish sting of their attack. I want to cry, but crying admits my guilt, doesn't it? "Yet, even now, I extended my kindness, and you betray it, like every other worthless human-"

No stop, I plead silently, I'm not lying!

I clench my eyes shut, trying to resist my shameful emotional response. I can't take it; I couldn't stand there and let him think he was right, that I was like the rest of the world!

"Stop it! Just stop!" I bellow, turning on my heels to stare down my accuser, fully aware that I'm overstepping my place, but I don't care!

He'll listen to every god damn word I'm going to say!

"I detest that you group me in with the rest of my race! Like I came here just to cause you harm! Like I'm some so-sort of a monster!" I continue to shout, my heart clenching, desperately trying to quell the outpouring of my fury and hurt. "I'm not like everyone else! Yet, you're so stuck on this idea that you refuse to see that I've done nothing to you! You're trying to find any excuse to kill me, to-to fit me into your skewed mold of a person who only wants to harm you! I'm not like them, any of them!"

Silence, heavy and stifling, stagnates between us for a long while- the only sound is that of my labored gasping.

Immediately I regret my words, and I turn my gaze away from Adrian, dizzy, unable to look at the shock which twists his features. I didn't have to be cruel; I chide, resisting the stinging in the backs of my eyes, I could have been gentler.

God damnit!

Quietly I continue to stew, my eyes burning imaginary holes into the wall opposite us, even as I feel the vampire's burning into my skin. Why was he still staring at me? Why hasn't he said anything?! My bottom lip quivers, and I beg silently for him to utter something, anything; I can't take this waiting!

"Do you know what you're doing?" He begins, and I squirm, "How to properly clean it?" His question catches me off guard, and I chance a look as he nods and flicks his long fingers towards the jagged scratches at my throat. Now he cares? Instinctively I try and cover it, feeling a mix of shame and discomfort, "That wound of yours will only get worse if you continue to assume blindly."

As relieved as I am to hear him speak, my pride blinds me. I'm still reeling, still angry, still hurt. My fickle heart and wounded emotions beg him to hold his tongue- I don't need his pity. "I'm not blindly poking at it!" I finally snap, fully aware of the venom in my tone. "If you hadn't interrupted, immediately assuming the worst of me, I'd have already been done and back in my bed. You'd have never known about it!"

Where I had expected the strange man to sigh with annoyance, or knit his eyebrows together in frustration after my goading, he instead remains silent and unreadable. His earlier hatred and distrust gone and now- nothing. I watch him step closer, realizing he's only feet from me. No, I plead silently, stay away from me.

He stops, and I begin to fidget, my heart thundering boisterously in my ears, and my mind begins to fill with fog- what is wrong with me!? I'm still furious with him! Just because he is lovely does not excuse his boorish behavior!

I start trying to piece together the frazzled shards of my mind in an attempt to understand why I'm acting as I am when a bolt of realization dawns on me that I'm quite under-dressed. This new fact has me anxiously tugging at the tattered undershirt and feebly attempting to cover my torso. How much more stupid could I be?! I even go so far as to raise my arms and coddle my chest, mortar, and pestle still in hand. He can't see me so immodest! Why did Adrian have to hear me and come storming into the kitchen as he did? Why couldn't he have just left me alone?

"Does it hurt you?" His voice is barely above a whisper, and I anxiously begin to fidget- maybe the silence had been better.

"Does it hurt me?" I asked incredulously, infuriated by his idiotic question, "Of course it does!" I spit and attempt to press my wrist over the ugly wound, hyper-aware of the weight of Adrian's stare.

"Then, perhaps you might allow me to help you." I nearly sputter at his offer. Where had this sudden generosity come from? Hadn't he been intent on skinning me alive and leaving me for dead but a few seconds ago? Why does he care if I'm nothing but a treacherous human?

I open my mouth to quip that I don't need his help, much less anything else, when I watch him close the gap between us. I nearly choke on my saliva, and I can feel my cheeks flush. He's too close! So close I can smell cedar, sandalwood, and hints of something sweeter- like vanilla? My head swims for a moment, lost to the intoxicating, spicy sweetness until I remember my anger. Presently, it is the only thing keeping me grounded.

Yet, even as I try and muster up the strength to hiss at him again, Adrian takes from my trembling hands the mortar and pestle, and I just let him. Why didn't I stop him?! What the hell is wrong with me?!

"If you intend on mixing lavender, thyme, and wood ash into an antiseptic paste, you were going about it incorrectly. In order to draw out the healing properties, you need to grind them like this." Adrian hasn't moved away from me, and his proximity is entirely all-consuming. My head feels foggy, and I struggle to watch the way he moves.

"See," he probes, snapping me from my stupor, "slow but firm- in tight little circles."

I can't help but stare at his hands, the way the muscles in his arms constrict, his long fingers- I'm transfixed, and I hate myself. Why do I even care?! Adrian finally moves to stand beside me, continuing to mix the ingredients together, eventually adding a touch of hot water and the wood ash until it makes a grayish paste. Then he moves away from me for but a moment, returning with a long white towel. I open my mouth to inquire what purpose it serves when he takes one end into his hand and begins ripping it into a continuous strip.

"What are you doing?!" I yelp and take hold of his hands to cease his ministrations. I achieve the desired effect, and we both stop. Immediately I recoil and squirm beneath his questioning stare, "I-I just, I don't wish for you to ruin one of your nice to-towels. I-I could have ju-just torn another piece of my shirt."

That same stifling silence once more fills in the spaces between us, and I almost want to grumble to myself- I need to make up my mind whether I want Adrian to speak or not!

An airy laugh has me focusing on the vampire's angular features, surprised that he had chosen to snicker rather than snarl about how I'd touched him. Wasn't I too low born? What sort of aristocrat was he?!

"So, you'd prefer to be naked, rather than use a, as you put it, nice towel?"

My eyes go so wide I worry that they might fall out of my skull.

"N-NO!" I shriek, already imagining tearing into my clothes, eventually standing there in nothing but what was bestowed upon me at birth.

Another chortle of laugher fills the room, and I fidget, "Anna, it's just a towel." I respond with only a nod, knowing that if I open my mouth, something rather unbecoming will come out—something like a squeak or a whimper. I refuse to be so, so pathetic!

"Besides," he finally continues, his laughter quieting and I find myself stealing glances up at him through my hair, "Practically everything within the castle is either broken or in ruins. What is one more thing?" I turn my head and finally look up into that distant expression that I've seen before- the cold loneliness that Adrian radiates like a wall of ice. My heart aches, and I turn my face away as I begin gnawing my bottom lip. I want to say something. I yearn to tell him that he's wrong, to plead with him to see the goodness and radiance he's still capable of, but I don't. Again my heart throbs as I remind myself that it isn't my place.

Silently we stand beside one another as he works. I don't like the quiet now; I want it to be filled with his warm laughter again.

Thankfully he finishes quickly, and we stare at one another, this time awkwardly. I'm the first to clear my throat, "Thank you for the bandages. I appreciate the help." I almost want to breathe a sigh of relief; Alucard will be leaving back to his room, and I can complete my treatment in peace.

However, Adrian looks at me like he always does, and I feel myself shrinking beneath his gaze. "I-I can manage the rest. Thank you!" I try and leave no room for argument, yet I'm still thwarted. I know before he even opens that provocative mouth of his what he's going to say.

Please don't say it!

"Can you?" He challenges, and I feel myself deflate. "Surely you don't expect to be able to bandage such a large wound by yourself without aggravating it further, do you?"

Of course I do! Whether I'm successful or not is an entirely different question- one that he did not inquire of me.

"I wa-was out in the wilds for more than a week. I-I have two young brothers w-who are constantly finding themselves battered and b-bruised. I-I think I'm more than capable of tending to my injury w-without having y-you s-see-" I trail off, unable to finish my excuse. We both know what I'm referring to.

It doesn't take Adrian but a moment to nod with understanding, but he doesn't leave the kitchen still. I can already hear the prospective words I knew are brewing in his mouth even as I beg God that I'm wrong.

"If you are uncomfortable, I'll remain behind you. You can wrap the bandages around your torso, and I will aide you from where I stand. Once I've finished, I will pass the bandages back to you. This process will continue until you are bandaged."

I hate the compromise. Not because it was asking much, in fact, it was very generous, but the fact remained: I'd still be shirtless in front of a man! A beautiful stranger that I don't know! The room suddenly becomes unbearably hot, and I tug at my undershirt, missing the biting cold of the outside world.

Why couldn't I have been quieter?

"I-I do-don't know," I finally stammer, pleading with my mind to come up with something even remotely better. Anything will do! I can't let him see me so exposed! It's wrong, it's immoral, it-it's temptation at its purist. I just can't!

"If you have a better suggestion I-"

"You could turn your back or ju-just leave the room!" I squeak, cradling myself so tightly my shoulders have begun to ache.

"Anna," Adrian coos my name, and I feel my knees begin to tremble, my skin igniting in those same invisible flames. Oh God, he did hear my name!

"I mean a realistic suggestion."

We both know I don't have one, and it's evident by the way that I fidget beneath his searching golden eyes.

"J-Just promise me-" I whimper, tearing my gaze away from his, fully aware that I can't bring myself to stare into those fathomless pools when I ask my next question. "Promise me you won't look."

"You have my word," he replies without even a moment's hesitation. While this should have been sufficient, I find myself only trembling harder. I know I have to do this for my wellbeing, but the glaring realization that I'll be disrobing in front of a man I'm not married to or even remotely know unsettles me.

I try to take a steadying breath but find it nearly impossible. All I want to do is shrivel up and die, to hide beneath a rock until I evaporate into nothingness. Yet, I don't move. I'm still standing beside Adrian, clutching my shoulders. Fear and anxiety mix into a potent cocktail that fills me up entirely- I'm afraid that if I move, I'll shatter into a million pieces.

"I swear to God, if you so much as chance a peek, I'll have your guts for garters!" My voice cracks, and I wince. I would have given anything at that moment to be intimidating.

Adrian chuckles once but says nothing, and I sigh- I abhor being this anxious!

With one last steadying breath, I turn around and face away from my host, clamping my eyes shut tightly as I pull my shirt over my head. It takes me painfully too long to fold the garment and place it gingerly down on the counter beside me, my body already trembling.

We stand in utter silence for a long while as I try to collect myself. I can't think straight though. I can feel Adrian's eyes on my back; I can still smell the sweet spiciness of his skin and clothes. I even think I can feel his breath brush across my naked flesh. I want to whimper, I want to cry, but I resist. I force myself to collect all of my hair into one hand and have it hang over my right shoulder as I wait to find my courage.

The sooner I get this done; I try to soothe, the sooner I can put on my undergarments and die of embarrassment.

As I open my mouth to inquire if I can have the medicinal paste, I feel the cool stone resting against my fingertips. Idiotically, I chance a look over my shoulder to see my companion's eyes fixated on the large window. Secretly I smile to myself as I take the mortar in hand and begin layering on the aromatic cream.

I hiss every time my fingers gently apply the paste, already eager for the pain to subside and to crawl back into bed. Have these scratches always hurt this badly? I can not recall. Eventually, I push the thoughts from my head and focus on the task at hand.

After I finish, I set down the empty container, still shivering violently despite the warmth that caresses my skin. I brace myself as I hear Adrian step closer. Defensively, I flinch, "D-Don't look!"

"I gave you my word that I wouldn't look, Anna. I promise." His voice was so soothing, like a breath of cold air on a sweltering summer day or a drink of cold water in the desert. I could only nod and wait until I felt the bandage snake into my hand. We worked in quiet tandem, wrapping the long strip around my neck, under my arm, and then around the upper part of my torso.

I would have been thankful for the silence, save for the fact that my heart was pounding again so loud that I worried I wasn't the only one who could hear its frantic thumping. I watch, entranced, and nervous as Adrian's long arms wait by my sides, always careful not to touch me. I find myself almost pining for the soft caress of his finger along my sides or the brush of arm across my shoulder.

I flinched when realization dawns on me; on the ugly truth of where my thoughts have wandered. Warmth ignites beneath my cheeks and creeps down my neck. Something must be wrong with me! I flinch and wish that God will cast me into Hell this very second.

"Did I hurt you?" I jump as Adrian's voice caresses my ear, aware of the way I fidget beneath his gaze.

"N-No, I was just thinking." I'm thankful when he doesn't inquire further. What would I have said if he'd asked what crossed my mind? I don't dwell on the thought long for fear that I'll melt into a puddle of goo from the embarrassment.

Thankfully the ordeal ends, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Mixed with my relief, even as to put my shirt back on, I find myself wanting. There inside of me, in my guts and my heart, is a twisting, churning, agonized wanting that I didn't understand. It tugs and yanks so hard I almost gasp. I wanted it to stop. I beg my body to heed my pleas, but they fall on deaf ears, and I am left sitting there, craving for something I don't know.

As I sit there and stew, Adrian's voice pulls me away- for once, I'm grateful to have him catch me off guard with that deep baritone, "You should keep those bandages on until the wound is sealed," he begins, and I'm hypnotized. "The herbs should help draw out any infection that may or may not have begun to grow in that wound. Be sure to change your bandages frequently, approximately four days and ensure you allow your injury to breathe for a few hours before you wrap it again."

I can't seem to find my voice, not even to udder a thank you, or that I'd remember his advice in the coming days. Nothing came out, and I wanted to kick myself. Instead, like the dunce that I am, I nod with a squeak and move away from Adrian to start cleaning up the mess I've made. It wouldn't be right or even appropriate to leave it behind. Proper etiquette aside, cleaning will help me clear my head- that's something I desperately need.

With a small glimmer of hope that tidying the kitchen will provide, I reach out for the kettle, intent on scrubbing it until it glitters. As my fingers wrap around the handle, I stop when long, pale fingers rest across my knuckles. Almost immediately, I draw my hand back. Now what?!

I stare up into Adrian's golden eyes; his expression concerned as he too draws his hand back. We stand there but a moment before he speaks.

"I had not intended to startle you again, Anna, but please," I can't seem to catch my breath, and my heart hasn't ceased its frantic staccato-like rhythm. I just want to disappear.

"Allow me to clean up. We just tended to your wounds, and the last thing that you need is to strain yourself. Return to your room; I can manage the mess."

Frozen, I remain completely silent but nod, unaware that I've begun gnawing on the tender flesh of my cheek until I taste blood. I spare a look around the mess I've made, and I feel myself cringe inwardly- it doesn't seem right to allow my host to clean up after me. As I open my mouth to finally rebuttal, Adrian lifts his hand, "Please, allow me."

I still want to argue, to plea with him, to allow me to help in some small way, but Adrian simply shakes his head and begins going about cleaning. Reluctantly, I collect my mug of hot water and small pouch of yarrow, moving quickly to make my retreat. Just as I reach the doorway I'd come through only a few minutes ago, I stop to linger. Words weigh on my tongue, heavy and suffocating- if I don't say them, I'll choke.

"T-Thank you, Adrian, f-for all of your help. Tha-thank you." I don't dare glance back; I know that if I do, that odd tugging and twisting will return.

Just as I push the door open and begin to leave again, I hear, "You're welcome, Anna."

I return to my room as quickly as my feet will carry me, being mindful not to spill a drop of the hot water on the way. All I want to do is drink my tea and go to sleep. I want this day to end- I'm frazzled, and my body feels raw.

When I step back through the threshold and close the door behind me with a loud bang, I sigh. I stay there tightly pressed against the cold wood surface, piecing the night's events together in my head. The puzzle assembles in my memory, yet even when I look at the full image, all of the moving bits, I stare dumbfounded.

Nothing makes sense, and I feel the urge to pace, to over-analyze everything until the fragmented parts come into crystal clear focus.

I don't, though, not yet. I drop the bag of yarrow into my mug and let it steep before I start pacing, my mind racing faster than my heart. However, no matter how hard I force snippets of our conversation or the memories of our interaction to snap together, I'm still lost.

Why do I feel so exposed? Why do I feel- I don't know. I can't describe these emotions, and it scares me. What is wrong with me?

When I finally bring the edge of the mug to my lips and take a sip of my tea, I immediately want to spit it out; it's so bitter! Wordlessly I look down into the steaming water and cringe- I hate bitter foods, but I know I have to drink the tea down. If I don't, I sigh and touch the bandages at my neck softly; I'll just keep hurting.

With a whine and a deep breath, I drink the contents. When I finish, I shiver, coughing, and wishing I had something sweet to wash the bitter aftertaste out of my mouth. Sadly, I don't, so I resign myself to padding over to the large bed. This time, as I draw myself up onto the soft mattress, I pull back the duvet and sheets. I slip beneath the heavy folds and let them fall around me until I'm swallowed up. It doesn't take long for the warmth to penetrate every inch of me, and I sigh- pleading that sleep will begin tugging at my eyelids soon.

It doesn't.

I lay there in the dark for what seems like an eternity, the sound of my heart pounding in my ears and my gasping breath my only company. My mind still tries to piece together the events that transpired in the kitchen, the sudden change in Adrian. As if to clear the fog, I touch the bandages at my throat again, carefully running my fingers over the textured fabric. I'd wrapped Timothy's knee when he was younger, but never like this, never so- I couldn't think of the word.

Fire begins to roar inside of me, a fire that I don't know how to control. Damn that beautiful, infuriating man! The fire is his fault! If he hadn't come down into the kitchen, if he hadn't helped me, I knew this roaring inferno wouldn't be consuming me from the inside out. I huff and turn onto my side, still fingering the linen bandages, mumbling to myself.

I'm still lost, still angry with myself and Adrian, but mostly with how I don't understand why his change in demeanor! One minute he's gnashing his teeth at me, threatening to extinguish my life and the next- he's tender, he's caring and compassionate.

I continued to lay in the dark, listening to the soft groans and creaks of the castle.

Flipping onto my back again, I stare up at the familiar canopy and sigh, finally feeling the first tugs at the edge of my consciousness. Sleep isn't far off, and I'm grateful. As I settle in, my heart clenches and my mind idly wanders back to the ethereal man with his golden hair and eyes. I still can't quite grasp why Adrian's personality gives me whiplash- why one moment he is the embodiment of cruelty, and the next, he's tender and gentlemanly.

I'm spellbound to these thoughts even as sleep drags me down into the churning blackness. For the first time since leaving home, I feel safe.