From the Altered Lions and Sacrificial Lambs blog, hosts of the contest:

"Here we see a little Aro/Alice action, but not the way you would imagine. This story is so well written and so original that we couldn't help but make it the Lambs' Choice winner."

I GET OFF IN VOLTERRA CONTEST

TITLE: The Mind's Eye

PEN NAME: chef diamond heart

PAIRING: Aro/Alice

SUMMARY: Alice and Bella rescued Edward in Volterra…but you didn't really think that Aro let them go so easily, did you? There is always a price… Entry for the I Get Off in Volterra Challenge. Dark & disturbing – content warning

DISCLAIMER: All things Twilight are the sole property of the divine Stephenie Meyers. This fan fic is purely for entertainment with no other gain. No copyright infringement is intended.

CONTENT WARNING: Contains disturbing material. Aro is…not nice. He's vain, duplicitous and coercive; he knows your vulnerabilities and how to make you obey. Some readers may take exception to these qualities.

Starts at the second to last paragraph on page 480 of 'New Moon', with the italicized phrase, then things go rather differently…

The Mind's Eye

Eternity is…long.

Even three thousand years cannot begin to give one a full appreciation of the concept.

In my endless life I have seen so many of my companions descend into madness as the countless years pass. Some are even driven to seek the oblivion of death. I confess that I have, with regret, assisted in such endeavors when I deem them to be in the best interests our small society.

Such a tragic waste of precious life.

Even I am not immune to such melancholy at times, but as a man of discipline, I prefer to elevate my spirits by the cultivation of certain diversions…

…………

"…are we free to go now?"

The three beings before us clung to each other, eyeing me warily. Their fear was evident, and I found that I rather admired how they strove to conceal it. Such an exercise is futile, but endearingly valiant nonetheless.

From my perusal of his thoughts, I knew that the rather precious young man feared not at all for himself but only for the safety, and sanity, of the human female in his arms. What the one he protected feared I could not tell precisely– she was maddeningly closed to me - I simply assumed that if she had but a modicum of intelligence she would rightly be terrified.

With my fingers steepled together in my habitual gesture, eyes half closed as if weary of our encounter, I murmured softly, "You may leave without hindrance."

The trio glanced at one another, trying to judge my sincerity. Satisfied, they began to edge toward the door, moving as a single body, trying to maintain that artificial air of nonchalance.

It was the third member of the little band who had struck me as being most worthy of attention.

"Oh, except for you, Miss Cullen."

They stopped. The heartbeat of the human raced enticingly; I could feel her panic, she was near to swooning with it. I swallowed the venom pooling in my mouth; such a tender morsel was always tempting of course, especially since I had experienced in the young man's thoughts how her blood sang for him.

But I had a still more delectable treat in mind.

"Or should I say, Mrs. Whitlock?"

The golden eyes of the little witch met mine directly, one delicate brow arched in query. "I would like to have a private word with you, my dear. Then you may all go - when the sun is down. We don't want dear Edward behaving impulsively again, now do we?"

The 'brother' and 'sister' looked at one another, stricken. The young man could hear my thoughts; he could vouch for the… innocent nature of my intentions.

"You'd better go, Alice. You won't be…harmed." His voice was low and bitter. "It's, ugh…the price for letting us leave." The look he gave me, his eyes black with his long denied hunger, was one of pure hatred.

The young lady visibly gathered herself. Resolutely she marched toward me, her small hands balled into fists at her sides.

I could hear the human girl whispering frantically, "What will he do? What does he want with Alice? She will come back, won't she?" to be answered with the doubtful assurances of her guardian.

I dismissed them from my mind.

With a flourish, I bowed my special guest into my private chamber; the heavy door gave a satisfying thunk as it closed.

"When you gave me your hand just now, dear Mrs. Whitlock, you graciously allowed me the information I sought. But there were some other things…which I would like to…discuss in greater depth."

Still she did not speak; a narrow look of suspicion was her response. With the force of my mind, I willed the door lock to engage; the topaz eyes flicked at the sound. The realization that we were alone, completely removed from the others, was the greatest of arguments that her fate - and by extension, that of her companions - was completely at my mercy.

I allowed myself the tantalizing delight of running a fingertip along the charming curve of her jaw; so sweet. Her thoughts were a racing jumble, spiked with alarm.

Certain yearnings began to unfold inside me as I wondered how this little sprite would take to my suggestions. I had delved her mind, to be sure, but in matters of such basic instinct there could be certain surprises. And I did love surprises: they were so deplorably rare in my existence.

"Just tell me what you want of me, Aro," she spat out defiantly in her treble voice. "Please," she added as an afterthought.

"Very well, my dear, we'll get to the point." I gave her my most conciliatory smile.

My foray through the mind of Mary Alice Brandon Cullen Whitlock had shown me a woman of considerable will. Her diminutive stature and girlish appearance were deceptive indeed; one would not expect an ingénue to harbor such depth of commitment, and passion, for her mate. Here was a being of very strong female drives….

As to her notion that the man was her 'husband', I disregarded the mock ceremony of marriage performed over them; that was merely a sop to the tediously conventional nature of Carlisle Cullen.

"As you will doubtless discover for yourself in due course, even for a being is as old as I there are still certain…appetites that demand satisfaction. And over the years one refines these…urges, if only to avoid the inevitable boredom of an endless life."

"Do you know why I singled you out, lovely Alice?" I made her a gift of another smile.

She blinked. How charming, the human-like gestures of this freakish family. If only they had utilized them properly: as tools in the hunt for their natural food source.

"Let me make sure I understand this correctly," her chiming voice was clipped in the effort to not show emotion, "you want me to…'service' you in exchange for letting us go." Now her regard was one of cool calculation.

"More specifically," I said in gentle correction, "to let you go and not pursue you – or your 'family'." I kept my voice light; she was clever enough to catch my unspoken meaning. And she did.

Alice's love for her brother and her friend were considerable, as were her feelings for the other Cullens, but it was the blond warrior whom she worshipped. An implied threat to him was the weapon that would compel her cooperation. Her tension was a palpable thing; I did not have to be touching her to feel the protective surge I had anticipated. She would do anything to safeguard her beloved.

Her devotion to her mate was complete and the depth of her compassion and admiration for his daily struggles in his chosen lifestyle touched even me. And yet…did he truly know her?

Another pretty human-like gesture: she licked her lips. My eyes were riveted to that little pink tongue as it slipped out of, and then back into, that inviting mouth. She registered my regard and allowed me a second viewing, more slowly this time. A seductress born, this one.

No fluttering protestations, no tiresome prevarications of feminine outrage; no fear, either, just a grim determination. In a way it was a relief, albeit one mingled with a touch of disappointment: fear added such a pleasant savor to an encounter.

Her loathing of me would simply have to do. But loathing was good, I rather liked loathing, in fact.

It made her inevitable surrender all the more piquant.

"Where…?"Alice looked around, plainly searching for a bed or couch upon which to submit to me. We were in what I was pleased to call my sanctum. Among other things it contained a vast antique writing table, paintings, tapestries, sculptures, globes, a cheval glass, maps, curios, an astrolabe and a telescope, the most up-to-date of computers, an Aubusson rug, books of all kinds and ancient scrolls. Mere trinkets, all of them – the detritus of immortality.

A rusty laughed escaped my lips, "Please, my dear, give me credit for…more elevated standards than a 'quickie' as you moderns so crudely express it. I have a more, shall we say, intimate experience in mind."

With a smile, I pulled out the brocade-covered wing chair from its place at my table and with a gesture, invited her to sit. My chairs are custom made for me; I place certain demands on my furniture. I find I take great pleasure in selecting the upholstery; there are so many patterns both eye-pleasing and inviting to the touch from which to choose.

She looked almost like a child, seated well back with her slender legs sticking nearly straight out over the seat cushion. I stood back, regarding her, anticipating.

The eyebrows went up once more, an indication of impatience; amazing how much she could convey with such simple signs. I glided around behind the chair, and then swiftly whirled it to face the cheval glass.

In the mirror, her golden eyes met the misted burgundy of mine. She was beginning to get the idea.

My gaze roamed her face and body in the reflection, so young and fragile to all appearances; so filled with impotent rage at my power over her. I bowed my head over the high back of the chair to absorb the scent of her hair, with its style of quaint little spikes. The fragrance was an enticing combination of light citrus with floral notes.

My hands slid down to rest lightly on her shoulders. She froze to mask the impulse to flinch. What an enchanting plaything.

"Never fear," I purred, "you shall give me what I want, and be returned to your beloved Jasper untouched – by my repugnant flesh, that is." I could not resist a smirk as she visibly steeled herself as for an ordeal.

"There is no dishonor in revealing your thoughts to me, my sweet; it simply can't be helped, if I wish it. Surely your swain will…understand the circumstances." The smirk turned into my best sympathetic smile. "How you admirably made the sacrifice of your mind for the safety of others.

"I wonder, does he know of all your…inclinations? Of the liberties your mind takes with your 'brother', for instance?

"When he pleasures you, have you ever screamed another man's name? Carlisle's, perhaps?

The bizarre golden eyes bored into mine through the medium of the mirror; her resentment at how I had breached the carefully guarded stronghold of her secrets shot at me like a fiery bullet. Chagrin and anger mingled within her, at war with the deep sensuality that was at the core of her nature.

I could feel her fight the rising tide of private heat, it took no special power to scent the arousal beginning to unfold within her as she fully considered my…proposal. And how it might be met most effectively.

"Think on what you treasure most, my dear, and rest assured that your truth is safe with me. I am a gentleman, after all."

She drew a deep breath, which was released as a sigh; she forced herself to relax. "What would be your pleasure, Aro? My lord?" The words whispered silkily from her exquisite lips.

"Show me things." My voice was hoarse as my throat was suddenly clotted with lust. "This man, the soldier you would protect so fiercely, show me…how he loves you."

Her eyes closed; I tightened my grip on her shoulders ever so slightly and they flew open once more. With the merest nod of my head I indicated the mirror.

Our eyes locked in the looking glass.

The voluptuous power of this delightful creature began to swirl and rise beneath my finger tips as she sought her memory and imagination for what might titillate me.

Alice touched her slender fingers to the pulse points behind her ears and lightly drew them down her neck , and further down to cup her small breasts. In the mirror my eyes released hers to focus on the sight of her thumbs circling her little nipples as they hardened and stood out through the light fabric of her blouse.

One by one, she deliberately undid the buttons, to reveal her satiny skin, so scantily covered by the lace of her brassiere. I could feel her satisfaction in the knowledge that her underthings were of such fine quality; the words La Perla floated from her mind to mine. So much expense for such singularly useless garments. I approved.

In her innermost consciousness a door opened, a man stepped over the threshold. It was he, the golden-haired fighting man she adored. They were in a sumptuous room, a hotel, perhaps. The bed was enormous and heaped with pillows, all in shades of silvery gray.

Her longing for this man had a strong element of pain: she felt unworthy of the daily sacrifice he made, subduing his true nature so that they could stay with the family she loved. She strove constantly to make it up to him.

Not for the first time, I was glad of the aloofness that I had cultivated over the millennia; such obsessions are a weakness.

The scene in her mind flowed on; the desire between them was almost palpable as he leapt for her with the stunning speed of our kind. A sigh escaped my lips, an echo of her own, as the hands of the man closed on her, roaming her body possessively. Wantonly, she pressed her length against him, sharing with me her sense completeness at being held in his arms. Soft gasps and muffled exclamations sounded in the silence of that dream room as they devoured one another's mouths.

The subdued light of my chamber seemed to brighten and glow around her as she abandoned herself to the task of pleasing me. The fragile-seeming hands acted out the fantasy, following the motions of her lover by gliding seductively down her slender curves.

She wriggled down in the great chair, rucking up her short skirt as she went. The immodest attire of these modern women never ceases to astound me. With lascivious grace she slung a leg over the arm and opened herself to my view. Only a scrap of lace and silk separated her from my view, a flick of her fingers and the impediment to my vision was gone.

An abrupt surge of venom filled my mouth and my tongue darted over my lips in unconscious mimicry of her own earlier gesture. Inadvertently, I emitted a low pitched growl at the sight that inflamed me: her delicate inner folds, as soft and pink as flower petals.

In that inner room of her mind, she showed me how her beloved worshipped her. I could feel the white hot spear that shot through her as he took her nipple in his mouth and the warm glow that radiated from her core in response.

That glow was coaxed to a searing flame as the man slid down her body with agonizing slowness, worshipping her with his mouth, and then burying his face in the apex of her legs. I could feel the sensations roaring through her, electrifying each nerve as his tongue manipulated her sensitive bud of pleasure. I wished I could be that man and taste the savory honey of her arousal.

She knew. The dainty white fingers probed and stroked that little rosy box, to emerge glistening with her shimmering moisture. My eyes were riveted by her sinuous movements, her involuntary responses to her own ministrations. In the looking glass, the topaz eyes held mine meaningfully, as she lifted her hand to her mouth and, one by one, licked the nectar from each digit.

How luscious she was.

An urge to return pleasure overcame her. I could feel the satiny bedcovering on her back as she wriggled to change position. She sprawled across the surface and hung her head backward over the edge. Venom surged in her mouth with the anticipation as the man approached her.

In her mind's eye, her gaze rolled upward, to the face of the one standing over her. The staff that offered itself to her lips was not that of her husband, but that of the so-called patriarch of the family, my old friend, Carlisle.

The little hands grasped the pulsing shaft and through the contact of our minds I felt her fierce joy as her tongue lavished each throbbing inch of his masculine organ. Together we explored the topography of each ripple and vein. Greedily she fastened her mouth around him, taking in as much of him as she could, as her hands worked him in concert to the movements of her head. With her I received his satisfaction as his venomous essence gushed and filled her mouth.

A shift: the face and body and scent of Alice's paramour were again transformed… to those of Edward. How entrancing to be absorbed into her powerful attraction to that beautiful yet repressed young man.

The famished lust of that self-denying virgin was unleashed in her imagination. With her I exulted in the triumph of breaching the walls of dreary respectability he had built around himself.

My sensations were hers as she encouraged Edward to explore her mysteries; with her mouth I uttered the reassurances she gave to him of the rightness of their contact. With her hands I guided his quivering cock to her tender opening.

Through her, I heard the animal howls and grunts, mixed with words of astonishing vulgarity, that issued from his fastidious lips as he ploughed into her furiously, his erection as rigid as those of the marble statues that filled my citadel.

The carnal gratification was soured for her by the feeling that she was betraying her human friend by these wanton acts. The ire at her subjugation to me threatened to bubble up inside her and she was nearly consumed by a sickness at her helpless state.

How utterly delicious.

A mental shake. Another change.

It was the hulking brute this time, another 'brother', who ravished her now. And ravishment it was, his body near to crushing hers as his meaty phallus plunged in and out of her sweet quim, claiming her mightily. She reveled in the relentless strength of his thrusts, power that would have broken a mere mortal, his physical demands driving all thoughts from her head.

The scene changed yet again, as her climax neared, but the face of the lover in her mind was obscured as the tensions in her body tightened to unbearable pitch.

My own pleasure was measureless as I gave myself over to the multi-faceted onslaught of sensation: the double vision of seeing her in the mirror myself and her view of the same; the feel of her hands on her own body that I experienced through my presence in her mind; the building of passion that was coiling like a spring inside her.

Her breathless, almost painful, fascination with the images in her mind ruled her now. The tiny hands moved feverishly, the fingers of one churning inside her, as with the other she frantically caressed her little knot.

With tightly restrained force, I rhythmically pressed my engorged member against the specially constructed back of the chair.

The coil of lust at her center was released, Alice's eyes closed without will in the extremity of her crisis and I was washed in the waves of her ecstasy. Her back arched and the walls of her sex convulsed in the grip of her joy. I was with her for every soul-wringing pulse as the face of her partner was revealed: long black hair and hazy burgundy eyes…

"Oh, oh , Aro, Aro!" she moaned as the throes of her orgasm consumed her. At her helpless admission of her total submission to me, my own climax thrust me onto another plane of excruciating bliss.

A long moment of repletion, then the world righted itself once more. The golden eyes were wide, and appalled, as they met mine in the mirror. I could feel her shame at her capitulation - it made my fulfillment complete.

Her eyes dropped and did not engage with mine again as she slid from the chair, hastily adjusting her clothing. She strode for the door, barely restraining her eagerness to rejoin her companions and be gone from the place where her inner nature had betrayed her.

I was sorry indeed to let her leave. A woman of such passion - and even more, of such intelligence and resolute spirit – is a treasure indeed. What a consort she would have made for me! But I had promised.

"Farewell, my sweet. Don't…forget me." I murmured and released the door.

At the threshold she paused and, without facing me, she coolly said, "Enjoy your memories, Aro, since that's all you'll ever have." Then she was gone.

A period of quiet contemplation is always welcome after one of my amorous encounters, I find. I settled myself in the chair that my visitor had just vacated and let my mind roam over the delights she had revealed to me…

……………

I have not physically entered the body of another, male or female, in… well, an unfathomable length of time, even for me. To tell the truth, I find the notion somewhat coarse. In any case, it is unnecessary.

No mere congress of flesh could compare to the sensations and intimacy of my preferred means of satisfaction.

To some, this might appear to be an act of violation even more shocking than if I had visited my carnal lust upon my partners in actuality.

That, of course, is the point entirely.


A/N: Okay, so Aro's a right bastard, he doesn't have to be anything else: he's ARO!