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4

Enthrall

The blood was on the leather. Her hands were clean beneath, slightly pink. The gloves came off by his means, dropping both to the floor. Andreas won't get those back. All V's gathered since before coming here, has been lost. There was no leaving. How could she think there could be now? Roman won't let her move from him, in all aspects. Even as she swayed as he climbed on the bed next to her, he was quick to tense. In case she would refuse. Each knee pressed the mattress down. Situations and images came fast. She won't turn herself to him.

Something's changed. That youthful break had faded into an unfolding suspension. He knows now. She didn't think what this would do. She had no real plan, just for him to know. He took her in longer before moving her himself. Rather himself unto her. With urgency, he grabbed her waist, pushed her back, opened her legs and positioned himself between them.

This can't happen. But she won't tell him to stop. He'll take it wrong.

Roman hovered over her, taking in the moment with visceral suspension. His usually slicked-back blonde hair fell around his face in oiled strands. She was enthralled. A part of her wanted him back in her life, to the way it was. She forgot how strong the attraction was. He leaned down, eyes focused intently on her lips. If it starts, she can't end it. His darkened gaze shut with anticipation as it lingered along her body. She could feel his need pressing just as urgent into her leg.

But she spoke and stopped it all. "Shelley died for me," Roman froze and pulled back to look at her. This is what she came here to say. "Your sister stopped it from tearing me apart," if she can't leave, she has to lead him away from taking this further. "I loved her. I think of it everyday. It haunts me, how it felt, watching you, Shelley. I nearly died for us. But you shouldn't want me now."

He stared as she spoke but had slowly crawled away and now knelt beside her hips. "What are you doing?"

There it was again. The man she once knew. It was breaking her. Stay strong. "This is what I came here to say. To merely speak with you, not this. I can't have you Roman," she closed her legs, lifted herself from the pillows, moved to the edge and nearly lost her balance. She grabbed the mattress and steadied herself. Everything's spinning. He said something, she could hear him, but it was different. What are you doing to me? Or was it Why?

No matter, he followed right as she and gathered her back into his arms. She struggled against. "Stop," he jerked her to him more forcefully. As he did in the dream she fell from last night.

"Roman please," she cringed against the sudden ache. "I was sick a few hours ago, I haven't- I wasn't thinking. Shouldn't have come here, I need to get back-"

"To him?" he griped at her wrists now.

"I'm sorry I did this to you-"

"Don't-"

"I can't-"

He pinned her between himself and the bed canopy. She looked away but he jerked her to him. "You were with me once," his throat cracked in husk. The morsel of her heart stopped with a sharp shiver in response. This was a mistake. She needs to fight more but she's losing. But then a shrill scream erupted just outside the door, down the hall, overlooking the railing. Roman snapped his neck to the side and cringed but didn't release her. The maid must have found the body. Another voice murmured in response. They're here? The butler and maid were here? It was hard to listen but clear enough.

"No Anna, don't," the butler, Conway, hoarsely whispered.

The door opened anyway. The maid stood in horror but seemed to pause in kind to Roman's sudden glare. "I'm sorry sir," she shook her head, glancing to V in slight shock. But made leave quickly. "We'll take care of it," they shuffled away in hesitation. They just accept it?

But the distraction gave V enough to gather herself and find the leave. Roman kept himself strong against her. She knew what would have to happen. Her lips moved despite the rifts. "Your maid, she was your nanny when you were little," his brow furrowed and muscles tightened. Don't say it. "And now she's your baby's?" it was said. He let her go, arms falling limp around him. She distanced herself more. "Of course I knew, Roman. We may have left Hemlock but I couldn't leave you completely. I kept in touch with them, your people. Our people perhaps," she looked to the door. Roman would think it meant in reference to them but it was more for V's intent. "They were sworn to secrecy," she swallowed. "We were so close, Roman. I remember us. It was hard for me too," he watched her carefully, unaware of her movements. "I've known of the baby for some time. I haven't told Peter and I won't."

His lips were fixed in its tight web. "It was before I knew what you meant."

She could barely hear him. "It doesn't change how it feels."

He raped Letha, his cousin, her friend, and got her pregnant. Then she died.

"V," he called again, reopening his arms for her. "Please."

"Goodbye Roman," she turned her back to him and reached the door. The slightest fear lingered at her spine. He might grab her. She tried to make her legs quicken. But slowly passing the arch, she gravitated down the hall. The faintest sound of mopping and scrubbing was heard from below. She won't look. Nauseating pricks kept her under. Steady. The cold jolt of the metal railing stung her bare hands. The gloves, she knew they'd be lost.

Don't look back.

She can't deny the lure. He felt good to her, wrapped in him like that. The urgency in his hold should scare her. It didn't. It brought back memories she feigned to reminisce. He won't come after her, not following those words. But he could fight past them and beg her to stay. How could she fight more? No, enough, think about Peter, get back to Peter. V lightly held the cool knob and opened the front door. White snow flaked along the patio and roof. The sun had gone down, it's too dark. Her head still ached. But she needed to remember. Before Andreas left, he said he'd be back for her. Didn't he?

There's no way to contact him. Peter carries the only cell. She's been holding onto the door. Let go. A slight breeze seemed to help her as it pulled her outside and creaked the hinge shut. Andreas had a plan. She just couldn't remember what. Or did he not tell her? Walk to the end of the driveway, don't just stand here. Don't look back. The air chilled fast. It's snowing. What now? The ache had now fallen to her abdomen. As she trudged across the slippery gravel, it increased. She stopped and doubled over. Favoring her rib cage, trying to catch her breath. She should have stayed in bed. Why did Peter want her out of the house so much? It wasn't just about getting air or him hounding her. He knew she wasn't feeling good.

Twice. She soon remembered. Peter was going to turn twice. The first time, he just wanted to make sure it could be done with an audience, with her. The wolf would never attack her. But that's why! He's turning again tonight for the drug dealers, for the money. Destiny wouldn't know that much though. She'd freak.

But this meant V's alone. Peter's either too weak now to look for her or is shifting at this very moment, as she's keeled over on Roman's driveway. Andreas is with Destiny, keeping her at bay. They wouldn't be back at the house yet.

This isn't good.

She's done and said everything she came here for. And now, she can't leave. Don't exert yourself more than you need to. V shook her head and breathed out again. It's getting better. Still can't move much though.

A heavy thump made her erect alert. She looked around, blindly since there was little light reaching from the house. Up there. One of the windows from the second floor banged against the tile with the wind. How cliché, of the wind's blame. She needed to get it together. Form her own plan. What can she do? She's standing taller now, but is still clinging to the pain. Her arm draped along her waist. Just as she scanned the woods in thought, another arm covered over hers. She shouted out and struggled away from its source. But Roman yielded her fight and gathered her close.

"You're not doing this to me again," his voice was stronger. How had he- Did he jump from that window to catch her? "No one's keeping you from me," she's heard that before, from his lips, in the dream she fell from and is still. In his eyes, he meant it. His body meant it. He meant to make her his again.

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Sometimes, it lets me write. But sometimes it won't. Thank you for reading despite!