Sex, I have come to learn, is a game of control. It is not about the pleasure or the pain. It is not about heated kisses or the well-placed strokes. It is not even about love. Or hate.

Sex is about relinquishing control or taking it. It is about giving in and getting back. And I was a fool to think it could mean nothing with Death, because I have never felt more stripped bare in my entire life. The worse part is not that I was so sorely mistaken, but rather that I have not a clue how to deal with this mess. Saying it complicates things would be a wild understatement. Kind of like saying being shot complicates things.

I should probably get out of bed now. I am not even sure why I have not moved yet. When I was woken up to the sound of the violent hammering and thrashing coming from the other room, I should have run out to investigate, but I am not sure I am ready to confront him yet. Staying hidden in here seems like a good idea, but at some point he is either going to come back in here or I am going to have to eat.

Or the house is going to collapse if the hammering continues on much longer.

I throw my legs over the bed and step on the soft, cream-coloured carpet. I walk to the washroom with wobbly legs and gasp when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My neck is unsurprisingly adorned with fresh bruises from the vampire attack, but it is the hickeys that catch my attention. Bright purple and red blemishes that angrily run along my collarbones and down my chest. I look like I just got in a fight with leeches. Actual ones, not vamps. Though the latter is also true.

I wash up and gather my discarded clothes to slip them on. I have to get back home and see if anything can be salvaged, but in order to do that, I have to ask Death to teleport me back. As in, I have to get out there and talk to him without thinking of all the angles he has seen my body in in the last twenty-four hours.

I hear voices coming from the living room. A heated discussion of some sort, though I can not decipher the words that are being said. It kind of sounds like Death is talking to himself and that is odd.

When I walk out, I see him installing a flat screen tv on the wall above his fireplace in silence. So, that was the hammering. I turn my head to the left and also see Death talking to another Death at the door, in the middle of a pile of familiar looking bags and my explosive weapons cabinet.

I think I am seeing triple. There are three Deaths in here. I am not sure if I want to orgasm or run the fuck away. Probably both. Maybe simultaneously.

I clear my throat and they all snap their heads in my direction. I can only see the face of one of them, though. The other two have a shadow hiding their features and that really creeps me out.

My eyes connect with a pair of warm, black ones. They settle on my neck for a moment before he returns them back to my face.

"Leave," he says to his clones. Like the good little minions they are, they disappear in a flash of black, leavng us alone.

"Coffee?" I ask in my raspy morning voice.

He moves casually to the kitchen and pours me a up, muscles rippling through the fabric of his black long-sleeved t-shirt. I cock my head sideways involuntarily. He turns and hands me the cup.

"This is what we were able to salvage from the fire," he says, gesturing to my stuff at the door. There are four bags, loosely filled with some of my smaller belongings.

"That's it?" I croak after filling my mouth with the steaming liquid.

"I'm sorry. We'll get you more, whatever you need." He pulls me to him and buries his head in my neck, kissing me gently on top of the bruises and hickeys. He grabs the cup from my hand and places it on the counter behind me before returning his hand on my waist.

I can not focus on the feeling, because a question is burning at the back of my mind.

"Why did you bring them all the way here?" I ask.

"Because you're moving in," he says against my neck.

"Come again," I say, because I hope to god my ears are not working properly.

"You heard me."

I can not suppress the giggle that escapes me and erupt into a fit of laughter. Death pulls back and looks at me like I have a grown a second head.

"That's funny," I manage to say, but the serious look he gives me hints that he disagrees.

Shit. I think he might be serious.

"Wait, you weren't kidding." I blurt.

"I'm not sure which part sounded like a joke to you," he replies, placing a hand on the counter on each side of my body and leaning in.

He looks down at me challengingly, daring me to say something back.

"No." I duck under his arm and push away from him, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no." I yank my bags off the floor frantically. "Teleport me back," I order.

"No." He crosses his arms in front of him with a smug face.

"What do you mean 'no'?" I ask through clenched teeth.

"I mean, I'm not teleporting you back. It's too dangerous right now." He says matter-of-factly.

Then it hits me. The predicament I am in. There are no phones, no roads and no other houses around here. The asshole tricked me. He brought me here, not because he was a good samaritan, but so he could trap me. I walked right into the monster's lair. Oh, and I let him fuck me too. Many times and in many different ways.

And maybe what hurts the most is the fact that I trusted him. That I gave him control.

Anger begins to boil within me, not because of him per say, but because I am such an idiot. I should have seen this coming.

"Don't be like that, Emma." He closes the distance between us and grabs the bags from my hands, "I even had a TV installed. I know you like movies. A clone picked a ton of them up at the store. I wasn't sure what you liked."

It may seem like I am overreacting and I know how dangerous it is out there, but this is not Disney and I am not Rapunzel. I will not stay in this prison, no matter how comfortable it is and let him deal with my problem. It is my life and so far, I have always lived it alone.

And I will be damned if I do not get revenge on that vamp chick myself and let him make my decisions for me.

"You tricked me," I spit, my words dripping in venom, "I'm not sure why I expected anything else coming from you, but most of all, I regret trusting you."

For a second, he looks as though I just slapped him. He recovers quickly, because his eyes narrow at me and he takes a step forward, looking much like a predator. I feel the air shifting, sending shivers down my spine. All the heat in the room has been sucked out. I should back away, but I will not submit to him. Not again.

"Don't ever say that again," he growls, grabbing me by the hips and pushing me against the wall. "You came here willingly."

"Get off me," I bite. He does not loosen his hold.

A moment passes of us just staring at one another, a silent battle of willpower. Who will back off first? Who will give in?

"I saved you and this is how you repay me?" He clenches his teeth, looking down at me with cold, angry eyes.

"I don't owe you anything," I say under my breath.

He smirks. "You're right, because I own you." He leans down closer, his breath fanning the side of my neck. "You're all mine."

"You're wrong. I don't belong to anyone."

He pauses, then a devious smile appears on his lips.

"That's not what it sounded like yesterday. When you were screaming my name while I was inside you. Frontwards, backwards, sideways-"

"Stop being such an asshole," I push him away, but he does not budge.

"Stop being a bitch." He grabs both my hands and kisses me on the lips with a smack. "I'll be back tonight. Make yourself at home, after all, it is yours too now."

Before I have the chance to threaten his manhood if he so much as thinks of going without me, he is gone, leaving me seething in his empty living room.