Dream continuation:
The man stood up and stretched, a lazy ripple of muscles that made her want to claw out his eyes.
“It is not your mother. You are mine, Lucille, and it is my duty to protect you in any way I see fit. These vampire friends of Legardo are after something, and I think they are not alone. I believe they have drawn in more of them. I will call out to my twin who is also here in the county, and he is a good hunter, but I think these renegades are following you.” He said.
He dressed with fluid efficiency and casual grace. “I am not in the habit of explaining myself. I have made a concession to you in doing so. Choose now how you will proceed.” He added.
“I refuse your claim on me,” Lucille answered in the only way he allowed her to communicate. “I will take my refusal to our people and plead with them for the mercy you evidently don’t have in you. I will not be tied to you! She shrieked.
He bent over her, a dark, imposing figure exuding power. His silver eyes glittered at her. “Hear me, Lucille. If you believe nothing else about me, believe this. You belong to me, with me. No one will ever attempt to take you from me and live. No one.”
His voice was low, beautiful, and all the more deadly for it. Her gray gaze was held captive by his pale one. She believed him. And not even her father had a chance of destroying him. Her mind shied away from that thought. Destroy him? She didn’t want that. He just couldn’t have her.
“Let me up,” she demanded. The paralysis was beginning to make her crazy. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She felt smothered, strangled.
“Say you will obey me.” He was dressed now, elegant as always. His mind was no longer completely on her; he was tuned to the vibrations in the air, to each note the wolves sang to him.
Lucille knew she was screaming – her entire body was screaming – but no sound emerged. Her body was no longer hers to command. Her mind was screaming in outrage, but the strange man controlled her ability to send out a cry for help.
“Stop fighting me.” His voice was a soft growl in her mind.
“Release me.” Her heart was pounding so loud, she was afraid she might explode. This couldn’t be happening. Mere moments ago, he had been lying with her, holding her in protective arms, gently making love to her. Or so she had thought. But what did she know about making love? The man could make anyone feel anything. He didn’t need to feel anything for her to make her believe he did. How could he take her body so gently, then turn around like an unfeeling monster and destroy her free will, control her as if she was nothing more than a puppet to him? What kind of person would do such a thing?
“Lucille, you will stop fighting me now. We are in danger. You will obey me if you wish to take back control of yourself.” He commanded, obviously getting tired of her tantrums.
“I know my own mother. You don’t want anyone else around me; that’s why you won’t allow me to acknowledge her,” she accused him.
“So be it. It is your choice.” His voice was as unruffled as always. Nothing seemed to disturb this man. Not her hostility, not her confusion and disillusionment. Her body jerked into a sitting position; then she was standing helplessly beside the bed, naked, totally vulnerable, unable to speak or move. Her head was throbbing as she tried desperately to fight his control of her. She would not submit her mind to his will, not voluntarily. He might have her body, but he could fight her to the death for possession of her mind.
Mocking laughter echoed in her head.
“Fight me all you want. You are only hurting yourself. You will obey me, Lucille.”
Despair welled up in her. It was true. She was helpless against his superior power and strength. She hated him for making her so aware of it, for forcing her to see that no matter how much she tried to be herself, to maintain a semblance of pride and dignity, she was stripped to nothing by a mere thought in his head. Shards of glass seemed to be piercing her head. The more she resisted, the worse the pain. A cotton shirt and jeans suddenly covered her body. Soft leather shoes wrapped themselves around her feet. He braided her hair swiftly, efficiently. She detested the easy, competent way in which he did everything.
“One last chance, Lucille. Do you obey me?” He leaned over her, his harsh yet sensual features impassive, an unreadable mask. His pale eyes were ice cold. He meant every word he said, and it was obvious he didn’t care which choice she made. There was no give in him, no gentleness, no remorse. Inwardly, she shuddered. She was locked to this merciless man for all eternity. There had to be some way to undo the ritual. Even death was better than mindless slavery. She swallowed her pride, unable to stand the leaden weight of her body and mind, unable to allow him such complete control.
“I’ll obey.” She didn’t look at him; she couldn’t. He relinquished control slowly, watching her closely, his mind still in hers. She stood before him, trembling with suppressed anger. Trembling with humiliation and lost dreams She brought up her closed fist until it was level with his chest, then opened her palm to reveal the three teardrop diamonds. Deliberately she turned her hand over, allowing the gems to fall to the floor and scatter, even as she walked toward the table and picked up a strange look thick brown book. She didn’t look at his face or at the diamonds on the floor, now symbolizing her disposal of their relationship. Staring straight ahead, she awaited his instructions.
“Are you able to shape-shift into your wolf now, without issues?” His voice was low and smooth and calm.
She hated him for that. “I’m not sure.”
“Okay. Shield your mind at all times. If you feel a compulsion to send out a call, merge your mind with mine. I will carry you away from this place to one more inaccessible and far easier to defend. Do not make the mistake of attempting to defy me in this, Lucille. With your life at risk, I will not tolerate rebellion.” He stated.
If he expected her to answer him, he could wait for all eternity. This was an order, the dictator commanding her with his hard authority. It didn’t require an answer, and she refused to dignify it with one. His fingers shackled her wrist and pulled her to him. His body was hard, like the trunk of a tree, completely immovable.
She could find no softness or gentleness anywhere, not in his body, not in his mind. Had his earlier tenderness all been an illusion, like his trick with the diamonds? She wanted to cry with shame, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her weakness. He launched himself into the air, taking her with him.
She awoke then.