These pages are ruined. Every ounce of red, gone and washed away by the storm. All of my hard work, ruined because I was stupid enough to leave this vulnerable to the elements. Stupid. Completely fucking stupid. The words are still etched into the pages, dark ink has seeped far too deep to be removed, my art written in its finality.

I've met a woman today, her soul is nearly as dark as mine and I'm certain that she knows it. She veils her words and speaks them as rarely as I do and her eyes pay attention to every detail. Annabel. Her name is Annabel.

She is different from the other women in many ways. The red is in her eyes and in her lips, saturated so deeply that it's mesmerizing. Last night, she lured me into her room. The catch being that I went willingly, her darkness and the saturation of red were far too alluring to ignore.

Annabel likes it rough. Red flows like a river through her veins, but this time, I didn't want to bleed it out. Her red is not hidden and her red is rich. The other women weren't like her, they needed to experience the deep hue, they needed to feel it on their skin and coating their lungs. They needed me to see it's beauty.

Earlier I lied, I wanted to bleed Annabel. I wanted to open the flood gates and bathe in their output. I wanted to watch the red drain from her eyes and from her lips, like dye as it left the hair that it had saturated. I wanted to bury her and make her flame exquisite.

I would have too, it didn't matter that her door was wide open or that her parents were just downstairs, but I saw the red behind her eyes and it looked just like mine. Annabel's hasn't been brightened yet.

She's lucky, for now.

H.

Rain continued to batter the house and the wind accompanied it's assault by throwing debris around haphazardly and frequently. The power was still out, but no candles were lit. It was dark outside, but the kind of dark that cast a blue glow and therefore eliminated the need for candles.

Annabel sat in her room, poking holes in her skin with a sewing needle. She'd given herself a tattoo of a dagger dripping blood two years prior and she needed to make it fresh again. The sight of crimson intrigued her and she did this often.

Harry watched her from the doorway, his green eyes drawn to the blood that welled up over her porcelain skin. Annabel knew that he was watching her, but she didn't let him know and continued to prick herself until red welled over her thigh in the shape of a dagger.

Harry wanted to press his fingers into her skin and smear the entrancing liquid into another design. Instead he stepped across the hall and into his temporary room. Red red red.

His mind swam in the dark hue and brought him to familiar shores. Annabel's father had come up the stairs nearly ten minutes later. He went straight to her room and asked skeptically, "Were you moving your furniture around last night?"

Harry could hear the smirk behind Annabel's voice long before she spoke.

"No."

Steven glanced into Harry's room. He sat with his back propped up against the headboard as he read a book. It looked like one of Annabel's books, but he still didn't acknowledge the reason behind the loud noises the night before.

Harry smirked behind the thin pages. They'd definitely moved furniture, but not in the way that Steven was thinking of. He couldn't see Harry's expression, or if he was actually intently focused on the book and not his conversation with his daughter. Either way, he stared at him intently for a long minute before giving up and walking back downstairs.

"It's not good to lie."

Annabel appeared in his doorway moments later. She was wearing a button up with all of the buttons undone and another pair of wonderfully sinful silk underwear. Harry received a nice view of her chest, her black strapless bra accentuated her breasts wonderfully and her arms were certainly helping even more.

She looked at him intently, her eyes dark and full of mischief, "I didn't lie."

Harry closed his book and set it on the dresser, his eyes meeting hers and the corners of his lips lifted in a sly smile, "We certainly moved furniture last night."

Annabel stared at Harry and he stared right back, amusement plain on his features. She licked her lips and confirmed a decision in her mind. Her eyes didn't leave his as she crossed the room and climbed on the bed, settling over his hips so that she was straddling him.

His eyes immediately went to the purple bruises on her hips and he smirked. He lifted his hands to her hips and pressed his fingers into their proper bruises. Annabel grinned.

"You walk like you don't hurt."

Annabel leaned forward, her hips pressing against his and her lips hovering over his ear as she spoke lowly, "I'm a bit of a masochist."

His fingers dug into her skin, sharp bursts of pain shot through the bruises on her hips, Annabel moaned and Harry flipped them over. He bit at the bruises that lined her neck and raised a hand to roughly squeeze at her breasts.

Annabel bit him in response, marking him where she hadn't before and leaving blossoming bruises that would be dark blue and purple by the evening. Harry unclasped her bra and threw it into a corner of the room, his lips moving to kiss, nibble, and suck at her breasts.

He was in the same boxers that he had been wearing the night before. Annabel ran her hand down his body and slipped her hand under the elastic band. Her fingers wrapped around him and pulled him the same way that they had the night before.

Harry groaned and his fingers tightened on her waist, "Take your shirt off now."

Annabel had to sit up slightly to do so, but she complied readily and the thin material was gone in moments. Harry removed her hand from himself and pinned both of her arms above her head. His lips pressed wet kisses over her skin and his teeth marked places that they hadn't reached the night before.

He grew bored of that soon enough and brought his lips up to meet with hers. He wasted no time with pleasantries and shoved his tongue in her mouth. Annabel held her ground for a while before giving in.

Harry bit her lower lip harshly and Annabel moaned loudly in response. His right hand held her wrists in place, while his left hand trailed down her body like a ghost and slid into her underwear. Annabel lifted her hips and bit down on his lip, just like he had done to her moments before.

His fingers didn't stay there for much longer and neither did the thin material. In what felt like the blink of an eye, they'd switched positions again. Annabel had her face pressed into the soft pillows and her hips pushed back and Harry was on his knees behind her, his large hands massaging the soft flesh of her backside.

Harry had ended up tying her wrists together with a tie he had found in the drawer beside the bed so that she couldn't touch him. Annabel gasped as he started to work on her with his tongue. He was only teasing her, and she knew it, but it felt so damn good.

Again, he built her up until she was teetering on the edge and then he left her without a release. Annabel whined at the lack of contact and Harry smirked. He brought his hand down harshly on her ass, his rings stinging her skin and eliciting a loud moan.

He repeated the action five more times and each time Annabel got louder. Annabel shook her hips in hopes that he would do it again. Harry bit his lip, he wanted to, but other areas took precedence.

He adjusted himself and teased her by running his tip along her and only slightly entering her. Annabel loved every moment of it. Without warning, he pushed himself inside her. Annabel sighed in content, her cheek pressed against the pillows.

There was nothing slow about it, his hips knocked against hers frequently and each time her voice got louder. Harry didn't bother telling her to be quiet, he wanted her to be loud and she didn't seem to care about her parents walking in anyway.

One of his hands rose to cup her breast and the other slowly rose to her throat, his fingers running over her skin briefly before they tightened and began to cut her air supply. Annabel had wanted someone to do that to her forever and she loved everything about it from the way that his fingers felt around her throat to the feeling the lack of oxygen brought to her oncoming euphoria.

Harry on the other hand, loved the feeling of her pulse beneath his fingertips and how easy it was to take it away. Annabel was beginning to see black dots in her vision, he was holding on for far too long and that euphoric feeling was fading quickly.

He could see the red and he wanted to drown in it. Steven ran up the stairs and stood in the doorway, his eyes wide at the scene before him.

His sudden appearance muted Harry's thoughts and he loosened his hold on Annabel's throat, but he didn't stop fucking her.

Annabel gasped for air, a wide smile adorning her lips.

Steven was livid and started shouting, "What the hell is going on here!?"

Annabel, who was still catching her breath, laughed breathily and replied, "We're playing house."

Harry smirked and spanked her again, which had a rather loud moan falling from her lips.

Steven's face was bright red, "Stop it!"

Annabel pushed her hips back against Harry's and gyrated her hips, "Keep fucking me."

Harry didn't respond, but he didn't stop either, her father's reaction was only laughable. Steven huffed and stormed down the stairs yelling, "I want you both out of this house as soon as this storm passes!"

Annabel laughed and Harry picked up his pace making her gasp instead. He shifted to the right and she moaned loudly into the pillow. Both of his hands were on her hips now, deepening the bruises he'd left the night before, "Say my name."

Annabel gasped again, "I don't know it."

Harry had forgotten that he'd given her a fake name, but he figured it didn't matter if she knew his real name because, in the end, she would end up like everyone else, "Harry."

His fingers pressed deeper into her hips, "Say it."

She didn't waste any time, "Harry."

He was nearing his climax and bit her shoulder, "Louder."

Annabel practically screamed his name, waves of pleasure rolling through her body and making her mind hazy. Harry didn't ease up, his skin smacked against hers for another minute or so before he reached his own high and spilled inside her.

He pulled out after he caught his breath and Annabel left without a word. She left her clothes in his room and he laughed to himself at how easy it had been to almost bathe in her crimson essence.

. . .

"Red. You like red."

Harry finished his sentence and looked up from his journal to see Annabel standing in the doorway. He didn't know how she'd figured it out, but he was intrigued.

"I do, yes."

Annabel nodded, "What do I like?"

"Gray. You like gray."

The corners of her lips lifted into the smallest smile before she turned on her heel and walked back to her room. Harry stared at the space that she had just occupied, his mind circling around the fact that she liked red too and she knew that he knew.

After a moment of staring at the open door frame he called out loud enough for her to hear, "You like red too."

She didn't respond and he didn't care.

I almost stole the red from her today. She knew it, I felt it under her skin. Her soft pale skin that glows red whenever it's touched. I traced the fire in her veins, held it in my hands, and her father stopped me. I was going to do it and he ruined it.

The fact is that I should be livid because he robbed me of deep pleasure, but I'm not. Something is wrong; I am not angry that I did not drain her beautiful crimson. Annabel knows more than she should. She's smarter than the rest and I know that she'll figure it out the longer that I'm in her presence.

How she knows, that's beyond me, but she does and it will be dangerous if she discovers anything else. I'll have no choice, I'll have to bleed her out and take what was already beautiful.

H.