Immediate response to his demand was halted by the dynamic strength behind his gaze. It was both intimidating and alluring. The kind of look that had you on your toes and on your knees—one of a most dangerous leader. It fed into his attractiveness, no doubt. His eyes were the darkest kind of blue—the sort that sometimes look black in the right light. Sometimes, it seemed, they darkened in accordance with his mood. They looked black now.
"What…" Marilee looked down once more, swallowing heavily, gathering her courage to ask a question she didn't really want an answer to. But she needed it. Tom's grip tightened ever so slightly until she remade eye contact. "What was that up there? No," she bit out suddenly, wrenching herself away from him. "Why? Why would you do that, Tom? An Unforgivable, on a student? Are you absolutely insane?" She was several feet back from him now, gesturing wildly as she all but spat her hysterical questions. "Disregarding the fact that that looked like some sort of fucking ritualistic torture, what could possibly be worth Azkaban to you if you were caught? But no, no." And here, Marilee laughed, a strange laugh that disturbed even the wizard that stood across from her. "I'm avoiding the question for you, now. Why were you doing that, Tom? What have you been up to?"
A brief silence fell, punctuated only by Marilee's labored breaths. The flush that had overtaken her face was gleaming in the firelight, and Tom seemed dumbstruck. Never had so many words come out of her at once. Never had she been so articulate in the midst of her admittedly passionate, though sporadic, emotions. And he was struck by her beauty in that moment. Not just outwardly, but something that emerged from inside, a door he himself had never been able to open. Virtue. Something he did not, could not, possess. Fascinating.
Useful.
"Sweetheart," he said, finally, and his face remained emotionless. Marilee didn't dare move, though the fire was much too hot on her back. "I will tell you what you need to know, but there is a price."
A price. The words settled heavily upon her—chains, open and ready to be used. Her useless pleas to the gods rose once more in her mind. Her heart, which had already been racing, sped even more. Tom wasn't, after all, giving her a choice. It was an ultimatum. And now her body was prepared to run, to fight, to surrender. Something, anything. And the moment hung there until he asked her something he never had before.
"Do you love me, Marilee?"
Tom's posture was straight, his gaze steady and knowing and Marilee cursed him silently. The thing she possibly detested most about him in this moment was that there was no lying to him. He'd been a talented legillmens user for years, not to mention an apt, clever student of the human psyche. What Marilee had used her entire life as a defense against moments like this was rendered moot. A schooled face and a practiced falsehood were worthless. Now, when she needed them most.
Her muddled, panicked mind barely took note as he swiftly strode up to her and placed a careful hand upon her neck, caressing her throat with his thumb. Soon, with barely increased pressure, the cacophony in her mind quieted somewhat, her heart slowed. Tom didn't need magic to calm her anxiety—he never had. His control was enough, as it was now, and even though her body had told him what he already knew, he waited for her verbal submission.
"Y-yes," she whispered, and he smiled.
The heat from the fire was dampened by the chills that smile pushed down her spine. Every primitive, biological warning system her body contained was screaming at Marilee to run. She tensed; he pressed. Before her muscles could relax, Tom placed his lips upon hers and pulled her close, running his tongue across her lips until she opened her mouth in acquiescence. When his tongue touched hers, she responded shyly as the explosion of feeling she'd come to associate with his kiss overwhelmed her. This was what took her down the rabbit hole. He ran his long, slender fingers through the loose strands of her hair and made her heart want to beat out of her chest. It was astounding what places they could reach together with such simple embraces.
It wasn't until she was completely soft and pliant in his hands that he spun her around and slammed her to the floor. Shock stilled her as the breath escaped her lungs in a painful whoosh. Then Tom knelt over her and whispered, "This will hurt."
He grasped her left arm and pulled the sleeve of her robes back until her forearm was bare. His wand appeared suddenly in his hand and he touched it to her skin, a pale, flawless portrait for his next act. What incantation he whispered, she couldn't tell, as she couldn't hear it over her gasps for breath and the beginnings of her sputtered questions. And then she didn't care at all because the pain that enveloped her arm was excruciating. It was as though Tom had taken an ember from the fire and shoved it up under her skin, her muscles and tendons disintegrating into a burning mess of agony.
Meanwhile, Tom was impressed as he watched Marilee undergo the branding. She didn't scream, not like most of the others. Rather, she clenched her teeth and bore it in a way that had him tenderly stroking the side of her face.
"My brave girl," she heard him murmur, when the pain had subsided enough for reality to return. He bent down and placed soft kisses upon her neck, her cheeks, and finally, her forehead. "You did so well," he whispered in her ear, and the praise sent a jolt of feeling through her. An exuberant, somewhat arousing feeling that had her simultaneously pleased and suspicious.
What had he done now?
Marilee opened her eyes, blinking away her remaining tears, and Tom planted one last kiss upon her lips before assisting her to her feet.
"Come, sweetheart," he said as he led her to the portrait hole. "I have much to tell you."
