AN: Greetings, everyone. I am your Mistress. Allow me to introduce another follower to my story Get What You Wanted to be perceived by another talented author who has taken up the mantle to parallel my story. As I am a generous Mistress, I welcome all to express their own versions of a tale I am telling. Without further delay, here is a word from the author.

Hello, I'm the last of the Ancients, and I hope that in the following accounts of a hopelessly hurt individual, my fellow readers or writers can learn lessons, some as simple as forgiveness, some as complex as moving on. I will not bore your easily satisfied minds though; in the following tale, woven from the fabric of a mistress, derived from the blood of a lord, I surmise that you shall be astounded.

Tsukune had never been a hard to please man. He loved his friends, adored his wife, and was generally a kind, caring individual. In the few moments of his past where he had reacted violently, it had been for the safety of others, and yet, he found himself caught in an internal struggle.

It hadn't been so long ago that he had been given a gift, the gift of immortality, perhaps one of the most sought after treasures. His earlier high school memories were full of joy, avoiding his miniature 'harem' as some had called it, rescuing the youkai world, and falling in love with the love of his life, Moka-chan.

Moka and Tsukune finally became an admitted couple upon their graduation from the academy, and with the blessings of Moka's father, Lord Akashiya, after a few perilous stunts, were mated. A few months later, and they were married. It had not been a drawn out affair, and there really was no need for an actual marriage, according to Moka's silver haired true form, but under the insistence of Tsukune and the pink haired, outer Moka, she agreed to go through with it.

Their wedding night had been as perfect as either could have wished for, with an absence of awkwardness because neither were virgins, and when they awoke next to each other the next day, they reveled in the peace caused by their acknowledgment of their bond, waking up next to the person they loved most in the world.

Now though, as he sat in his hotel room, weeping internally and externally, hardly able to breathe, he wondered it if had all been some elaborate ruse. His chest quakes had eased slightly and he felt as icy needles began to penetrate his skin, leaving his arms shaking and his legs jerky. He felt the keys in his hands, keys to his old house, a place he used to be able to call a home. The cold teeth were little in the way of his calloused hands, and as Tsukune cried, he tightened his hold more and more. By the time he had regained some semblance of thought, he felt the sharp metal deep in his hand, oozing blood onto the carpet.

He still heard her moans, her begging, pleading for Gin to never stop, and the more he heard them, the worse he shook. Unbidden images of Gin and Moka sprang to life, his thrusting, her clawing, and her biting unwilling to allow his exhausted mind a moment of rest. The fact that he had not actually witnessed the act with his eyes did not sway his heart in the least, and his mind willingly provided every possible worse nightmare. He saw her moaning, kissing Gin's neck, relishing in the feel of his body and hers, just as she had done with him. He felt the blood she drew from Gin's back, as she had drawn his own the same way many times.

He had tried to drown out the rhythmic squeaks and creaks of his bed's springs and headboard shifting and banging against the wall. Tsukune tried convincing himself that it wasn't his wife calling out in pleasure, tried convincing himself that it was some random harlot that wasn't his dear Moka-chan. Yet, when her voice began a near high pitched wail, he recognized the tone of his lover about to climax. He heard her breathy gasps in between breaths, he heard her speak words that he would rather die than repeat, "Are you close?" and the banging increased, speeding up. Through the walls his vampiric senses picked up Gin's reply.

"Yea", Tsukune heard his dog-like panting, deep laboring breaths. "Can I?" was the next question that came from his mouth, and Tsukune's already tormented heart experienced the ultimatum of anguish at her reply. "Go ahead, finish" The noises slowed, but got louder; they had lost their rhythm and his mind knew what it meant.

The deathly quiet that followed rolled on for seconds, possibly hours, and Tsukune was frozen, unable to leave, to assure his heart what his logical mind had already accepted. Sheets shifted in the room next to him, and he heard as heavy footsteps approached the thin barrier of his heart. The pale white door to his bedroom opened, and Gin's head came out. He looked at Tsukune, and raised an eyebrow, before smirking.

Moka's tired voice echoed throughout the silent house, a question, "What're you looking at?" Gin tilted his head back, looking back into the room, and Tsukune heard his voice, "Tsukune." He heard her gasp and hushed, "Is he still here?" He saw Gin's body follow the slight motions of a nod, and Tsukune finally caught the smell the permeated his room.

Once three of his five senses had confirmed what his heart was unable to fathom, he shook, and tears finally burst fully from his eyes. His heart banged painfully and before he was able to understand what he was doing himself, he had stood, dropped his phone on the counter, and walked out.

The freezing cold winter of Japan met him, and enveloped his dead heart in a coat of ice, a temporary relief to his pain, by removing his concentration from the situation. Through the snowing winds, he made his way down the street, remembering a hotel being around a block down the road. The walk was hell, and he was thankful for it.

Tsukune hardly glanced at the pretty brunette who he got the room from, and shuffled into his room, before sitting down on the bed, no longer able to hold away the flood. Why? Why Moka? Why did you..? All for something like that? Why..?

Tsukune's heart wrenching cries filled the room, before he laid back on the bed, finally releasing the now bent key from his grip. He lay back, and sobbed, felt as his blood, the essence of his immortality given by Moka, dripped from his hand to the floor beside the bed.

Through the night, he waited, believing his tears to have stopped, before his closing eyes would catch a glimpse of Gin's vicious smirk, and he would be awake again. The hollow chambers of his heart that once praised the ground his Moka-chan walked on, now screamed in vengeance, crying for retribution. He knew he could do no certain evil to Moka though, and as much as he hated it, his heart felt her betrayal and tried to get past it.

Tsukune shook himself, a shiver of his silent debt to his prayers for his pain to stop, and stood. The shower of the hotel was small, and the warm water would have hardly cooled him off, but he knew that he could no longer stay still.

He reached in, and cut the water on hot, all the way, without feeling it, and turned to the sink, where a mirror perched, an image of himself in horrid shape staring back. His eyes were bloodshot, and an unusually oily area below his eyes showed the tear trails previously made. His hair was ragged, and still wet from the snow that had melted. By now, the spiked pain in his heart was fading, a dull throb, and a headache to match had already begun.

Tired of staring at himself, Tsukune turned, watching as the steam rolled from the shower. His clothes were slowly peeled off, and he noted his own scars, caused by many a fight for and with Moka. Moka. And the tears began anew with just her name. Determined to forget, he shed the rest of his clothing quickly and jumped into the shower.

The first second was what he had waited so long for. The warm embrace of the water hugged his body in a way that it had wished was...No. I won't go there. A few moments later though, and his thoughts strayed to Moka. He instinctively thought something was wrong before he felt the first zap. Then, his whole body reflexively coiled like wire, electricity bouncing around inside the shower. Tsukune was unable to utter a word though, his jaw clenched shut, teeth beginning to extend. Finally, getting a breath of air, Tsukune bowed forward, and through the electric storm of the shower began to cough up blood.