Shadows stretched long, lazy over the land, coloring the earth with memories of creatures only imagined or long gone. I watched as the sun flirted with the horizon, painting the sky in blushing colors that deepened into fiery passion as contact was made. Their romance quickly faded to twilight, tears for things lost spreading, twinkling over the sky. Their love child, the moon, growing fat and thin as it alternated between its parents, one accepting, one overpowering, peeked over the horizon, making sure of its acceptance before heaving its golden form up.
I am here to wait, to linger, watching the drama unfold. A simple story against which my thoughts struggle to find meaning or reason.
"You came," a voice says behind me.
"I wasn't aware I was to be given a choice," I replied shortly. I don't turn around. I know what I'll see—what I don't want to see.
He called me here, against my wishes, against my will, by the deplorable method of confining someone I care a great deal for. That compels me to be here, not to enjoy it.
"You always have a choice," he said. If it were anyone else, any other situation, I might have considered it a charming voice. He could have been said to have a stimulating voice under the right circumstances, I suppose. But, I had yet to be in that mood around him.
"There are times there is no choice," I said. "This is one of them." I finally turned around and looked at him, my arms crossed over my chest.
He was stunning. Truly, if it weren't for the perversion of his mind, I'd be pleased to do a good portion of what he wanted to do. Long, silky black hair, eyes that burned of lust and insanity, a body that was lithe and flexible, rivaling my own.
It was only that perversion of his mind that kept me from indulging in other perversions. I shared my death with no one. I would not allow him to take from me the life I had so jealously and stubbornly guarded despite everything.
"There is always a choice," he purred, sending a cold shiver through my gut. "You could always just give me what I want."
"I'd be happy to kill you," I replied, my voice sweet in my throat.
"So beautiful, so stubborn, so frail," he said, his voice dripping with sensuality that moved his hips and body as he crossed over to me.
I stood stubbornly, staring at him, willing myself not to react. I hated him. I hated myself for wanting him. "Where is he?" I asked sharply when he started to reach out for me. We have danced this particular dance far too often for my tastes. I'd even learned not to flinch when he reached out for me.
"So direct, to the point," he pouted, turning away again with the same sensuality he'd used to walk toward me.
I curled my hands into fists, digging my nails in to the flesh of my palm to keep them from wanting to reach out. I didn't trust myself to try and kill him if I did reach out for him.
He crossed over to a chair placed under a canopy. He sat, more gracefully falling into the seat, crossing his legs in a way that I could almost feel the fabric sliding along his skin, almost wanted to be between them. His arms went over the back of the seat, embracing it.
I wrenched my eyes from the length of his legs to look around. I'd been here before, but I needed something else to look at. I hated this room. It offered little to look at other than him in his throne. There was the window I'd been looking out, but otherwise, the room was bare of decoration. Just stark white walls, a black floor and his red chair.
I brought my eyes back to him, focusing on his face, his eyes above that mask that hid his mouth. "What do you want this time?" I demanded.
"You ask as though I do not require the same thing from you, as if I have not already told you what I want," he sad, tilting his head, forcing my eyes to follow the line of his hair along his neck, falling against the bare skin between the lapels of his trench coat.
I snarl, forcing my eyes up again. "I will not share that intimacy with you," I say flatly.
"Then, you won't get him back."
I frowned at him. "If I do what you want, I won't see him again," I point out. I try to turn my mind to him, but in the face of violet eyes, I find it difficult to bring up the memory of him.
"It is a difficult choice, isn't it?" he asked, overly amused by his observation. He leaned forward, his legs sliding until both feet were on the ground, open wide enough to be inviting, but not so wide as to be lewd. His elbows moved to his knees, his hands dangling limply between them. "What are you going to do?" he purred, as if it were a foregone conclusion I'd give in.
"Kill you," I said, trying to force conviction into my voice.
Though I couldn't see his mouth, I know he was smiling at me. It was in his eyes, the way the corners of them crinkled, the way the light danced in them. "You can try, and you will just fulfil my desires," he pointed out.
I bite back a snarl. "Where is he?" I demand. I'm sure I've asked before, but I can't remember at this point any more.
He shook his head. "You think me that much a fool?" he asked, his voice disappointed.
There was a simple way to end this. I knew there was. Just what it was, though, I couldn't think of at the moment. I hated him. I hated the way he moved. I hated myself for even thinking about wanting him.
But, I couldn't change that. I'd tried. "Yes. You took him. That, in and of itself, makes you a fool." What was it about this place, this room, that made it so hard to remember.
He rose, a motion of grace and sensuality itself, and crossed over to me again. He walked around me, not touching me, testing me to see if I'd turn. He stopped behind me.
I could feel him there, burning through my clothing until I could imagine what our skin would feel like with nothing between it. I wanted to know, to compare the illusion with the reality and see just how accurate my imagination was.
Again, I dug my nails into the palms of my hands. "What?" I growled out, struggling to mask the desire that wanted to creep into my voice with anger.
His hand touched my hair, sliding through it. I fought to keep from reacting, to keep from shuddering.
"What?" I demanded again, fear curling along my spine, crawling up my scalp.
"You're taking better care of your hair," he said, voice dripping with approval.
I pulled away, swinging at him. My aim was too low, though, and he didn't move. Lust and disgust crawled along my skin, up my arm, and through my stomach. I didn't want to want to touch him and his obvious enjoyment of the touch repelled me. And, at the same time, I didn't want to move away. I wanted to move in and I wanted to chew my arm off for being defiled. I moved away from him. "That's getting old."
Color touched his pale cheeks. "No, not really," he replied, his voice breathless. "It's becoming more enjoyable as your defenses are lowered." He moved closer.
I moved away, openly defensive now. I didn't want him. I didn't want him near me. If I didn't keep him away, I wouldn't be able to maintain that. "Where?" I demanded again.
"Give me what I want, and you can have anything you want," he said, looming over me, his body moving in sensual waves that made me want to reach out and touch him.
"Your offer is ridiculous," I said, trying to have more conviction in my voice than I really meant. What was wrong with me? Why did I want so badly? I had him. He was better than this...this thing in front of me. He was just a thing. I didn't want him.
I kept telling myself that and yet it doesn't ring true in my ears. What more could I do? I had to leave. I didn't want to, though. I wanted...
I shuddered, a motion that went from the top of my head through every fiber of my being until I could feel the tips of my toes moving against the inside of my shoes. I recognized the effect now. I should have before. I should have known better than to fall into this trap, especially when I'd used it myself. "Bastard," I growled. The problem remained, even though I realized what it was; I was still under its influence. I couldn't just throw that off the effect because I knew what it was. "I know you have him. There's no other way you could have that particular drug. Where is he?"
"Until you give me what I want, I have no reason to give you what you want," he purred.
"You can just rot in hell for all I care," I snarled at him. Why was he getting closer? I was moving away from him. Why was he getting closer even though he wasn't moving? I couldn't have been moving. Not toward him, and yet my feet betray me. "Where is he?" I demand, forcing my hand up to his throat instead of anywhere else they wanted to touch.
He moved away, laughing as he did. "You honestly wish me to tell you?" he asked. "Or do you wish to take care of that burning in your veins?"
I froze. The drug didn't cause a burning sensation, just need and want for physical contact. There were stronger drugs, but this particular one made the victim believe it was them rather than a drug. It was subtle and slow, one to wear at inhibitions and social mores until desire could continue the work. I became aware of warmth starting from my heart and moving outwards with my pulse. "What did you do?" I demanded.
He only chuckled in response.
I lunged at him, but he slipped through my fingers, disappearing from my sight as everything grew black. I screamed, cursed, yelled and twisted as I fell. It was too far to the ground and I kept falling.
Sunset surrounded me, bright colors, though I couldn't see them. Everything was still black, yet I knew the reds and oranges of the sky's passion were all around me. I tried to reach for anything that would keep me from breaking, keep me from dying, but there was nothing.
I fought, snarled, tried to do anything that would give me control. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think.
I landed on my hip with a hollow thump. A soft jail clung to my limbs as I fought my way to air. Things clattered and I twisted, my legs in the air, my chest on the ground. Cold wetness spread on my back as something hit me. I screamed, unable to hold back the sound.
Music came from no where I could place.
Music didn't belong to this place.
I paused.
Cold...wet...water. I could smell it now.
I untwisted myself from my confines to find them a sheet and quilt and pillow. I shifted into a seated position on them, looking around, confused.
Dawn peeked in the window and I was in my room, safe, for now. I knew he was safe. I could hear him coming for me. The door opened.
Long black hair, purple eyes and a mask peeked in through the door.
I screamed.