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Gwen's head ached something awful.
"Pete, make it go away," she whispered, rolling over in the bed and reaching for him.

She jumped up and opened her eyes, realizing that being safely at home in Pete’s bed was impossible.

"Where am I?" she muttered, looking across an enormous bed adorned with silk sheets and expensive-looking bed hangings to see an unfamiliar room that reminded her of British castles.

"Ah, it's nice to see that you're awake, my dear."

She turned back and stared at the tall, handsome, elegantly dressed man who sat sipping tea at a table not two feet away from her.

"Who are you and where am I?" she demanded.

She stood up, but nearly did a double take. Instead of the tight jeans, small tee, and polka dot hoodie she was dressed in before, now she was dressed in a low cut white elegant dress and corset. No wonder she'd gasped; this corset was tight!

"Oh, where are my manners? My deepest apologies-"

"Where are my clothes? Did you do something to me while I was passed out, you sick bastard?"

The man chuckled. "A gentleman would do no such thing. First, some of the women dressed you. Second, I only allowed Urie to collect you, and I assure you he did nothing more than bring you to me."

Gwen stared intently at him, trying to see if she could spot a weakness that she could use to her advantage. Her scheming stopped as she noticed him fingering a silvery bracelet in his palm.

"Give me that!" she yelled, practically vaulting from the bed and tearing it loose from his hands.

She brushed it off and pulled it on as he laughed.

"He must be very important to you."

She irritably looked up at him, but stopped an insult from slipping once the man's fangs came into view.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, knowing she really didn't want to get an answer.

"Me? Oh, I apologize from not introducing myself. I'm William Beckett, at your service. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Gwen's blood ran cold at the mention of his name. This was bad, very bad. She backed up into the bed post, her eyes wide. His grin widened as he realized she knew who he was.

"Don't hurt me," she pleaded.

Again Beckett laughed. "You're amusing, my dear. Peter is luckier than I imagined."

"I have nothing to do with him. Please, please let me go."

Beckett set down his cup of tea and came close to Gwen, so close that she quickly breathed in.

"You have everything to do with him," he said, eyes on her like they never needed to be anywhere else.

"But...he hates me. He threw me away," she whispered, the tears threatening to fall.

Just one quick movement and she was dead. Her nightmares were coming true and there was no one to save her.

Beckett placed his lips close to her ear.
"Don't lie. He loves you far more than he handle."

The tears fell slowly, tears of fear, of hatred, of love. Beckett stepped back and reached into his pockets.

"He threw me away," she repeated softly.

Beckett looked at her sadly before taking a black silk handkerchief and wiping her tears away.
"Yes, I know. What a stubborn ass. You're a lovely girl."
Her breath caught in her throat.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Surely that's obvious. Peter will come here to rescue you, and I will be waiting."

"And...what are you going to do to me until then?"

Beckett sat back down at the table, but his eyes never left hers. Gwen shuddered.

"Urie told me how beautiful you were...but he could never really describe you." He crossed his leg over the other, as if he was posing for a painting. “Urie’s more…creative in other necessary ways,” he said, a cruel smile now on his lips.

"Who's Urie?" she said, not at all liking the fact that some random creep even talked about her.

Beckett chuckled. "Gwen, don't you ever wonder why you have those frightening dreams?"

She shivered, slowly backing away. "How--how do you know about those?"

"You obviously know who I am. I've had Urie watching you for some time now. I'm amazed that you didn't wonder why sometimes in the night you shivered for no reason."
Beckett stepped toward her, grinning in an eerily seductive way. Though Gwen was completely terrified of him, she felt a deepening attraction for him. What was wrong with her?

"Please, let me go. He won't come, I swear!"

"We've already discussed this. You're staying until I say otherwise."

Gwen backed up into the wall, but Beckett still moved toward her. She willed herself not to cry out as his fingers traced her cheek. She winced before looking away, knowing his lips neared hers.

"Please don't turn me," she pitifully whispered.

"Sir, she's here," a voice called out from behind them.

Beckett touched her lips with a finger and turned to face another handsome vampire dressed similarly to him, but he had a different demeanor that said everything and nothing at all. He was trouble.
"Gwen, this is Brendon Urie, my successor."

Urie nodded his head at her, but Beckett frowned at him.
"Urie, how many times must I tell you to knock?"

The younger vampire's eyes flickered over to Gwen's shocked face. "I did knock, Sir," he said, smirking.

"Well, then, we can't keep her waiting. Where is she?"

Who was this "she," and why did Beckett suddenly look intimidated after being so confident? Gwen grew more anxious...this was more than just about Pete.

"In the lounge. The other Dandies are...fascinated by her. You know how she loves the attention."

Beckett sighed. "Fine. Tell her that we are in the Scarlet room."

Urie left with a nod. Beckett turned to her again, reaching for her but only taking her hand and leading her out of the room. His hand felt cold to the touch, but Gwen tried not to think about his firm grip and how he comfortably laced his fingers with hers with no hesitation at all.

"Where are you taking me?"

They passed large rooms furnished impeccably, filled with well-dressed vampires who seemed to be drinking blood out of martini glasses. Some looked at Gwen with interest, others with disgust.

"Don't speak to them," Beckett said.

"As long as they don't attack me," she muttered.

Beckett immediately stopped in front of vivid red French doors, but he made no move to open them. He turned his furious eyes toward Gwen, grabbing her wrists so that their faces were inches apart.

"Don’t act as though you understand us, our way of thinking, our way of life. As for the Dandies, I could have them tear you limb from limb, so you'd better learn some better manners," he hissed.

He didn't wait for her reaction, only he opening the doors and ushering her inside. If Gwen didn't fear for her life, she would have gawked at the beauty of the room. Everything was covered in rich shades of scarlet and dark mahogany, though the main focus were the leather armchairs and couches in a circle in the middle of the room. Did these monsters actually have civilized meetings?

"Who is she?" Gwen asked.

Beckett grinned devilishly at her. "She is someone your precious Peter is well acquainted with," he said, pushing Gwen into an armchair.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Beckett continued to smirk at her until she heard the slow, rhythmic sounds of stilettos hollowing out the silence in the hall. The door creaked open, but Gwen didn't dare turn around.

"Correction. I'm your worst nightmare," a cruel accented voice whispered into her ear.
Gwen held in a scream as a pair of slender hands slid up her shoulders.