Possession

Possession

Disclaimer: Yeah right, like I own any of this!  It all belongs to Top Cow.  Damn, huh?

Life is a Hell of a lot harder when you're head over heels in love with someone you shouldn't be. Most days I don't know which way's up. Being in love with someone like Kenneth Irons only makes things worse.

You'd think I'd learn. Once bitten twice shy, right? Wrong. Each day I slide a little further into love with him. It doesn't help that he's the only person I seem to know that knows anything about the Witchblade.

I find myself turning to him again and again. For the Witchblade, for advice and for a type of affection he'll never consent to giving me. If I get any more pathetic I just might shoot myself.

So what am I doing in an elevator heading towards his office? I have no idea. My feet seemed to have acquired a mind of their own recently.

The door hisses open to reveal the familiar view of the foyer. Does anything change in here? It looks exactly like the first time I stepped in here.

Back then I was a detective hoping for a lead on a case. Now I'm a woman hoping that the man who holds me in his thrall will throw me a bone. God, I'm pathetic!

Getting off the elevator I head straight for the receptionist's desk. I realize with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I don't have a clue what I'm going to say to her. What excuse can I use to get past her?

'Hi, remember me? Yeah, I'm the detective that's been harassing your boss. But don't worry, I'm only here to throw myself at his feet this time.' Call the men in white coats now!

I haven't been back here since just after the death of my partner. Back then I thought that Kenneth would know something about the circumstances surrounding it. I'm still not satisfied with the results of that discussion.

"Detective Pezzini?" the secretary, a woman who looks like she's never done a days hard labor in her life, smiles as she looks up from her desk and recognizes me. "Mr. Irons is expecting you. Please go straight back." What no men in white coats to carry me off to the asylum?

I nod dully, too shocked to really say anything. How does he always seem to know? I didn't even know I'd wind up here to today so how did he?

In a daze I make my way to the familiar metal doors that lead to his office and suddenly stop. What am I doing here? What do I really want? I'm no closer to these answers then I was in the elevator and that fact is starting to make me uneasy.

The sound of the automatic doors opening jars me back to reality. As the doors slide away I sweep my gaze over the interior of the office. It's still the same version of modern chic that it was before with maybe a few new touches of subdued color.

"Come in, Sara," his disembodied voice urges me gently.

I step into the office and see ... no one. Where is he? I do a quick 360 to make certain he isn't standing behind me and almost wind up falling flat on my face for my efforts. I've got to learn to eat more than once a day I think to myself as the world begins to get fuzzy around the edges. A girlish figure is one thing; passing out in Kenneth Irons office is another.

Just as I begin to feel my legs fold under me strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, effectively stopping my graceless decent to the floor. I'm pulled back up against a hard male body and every instinct in my brain tells me to fight, but my body seems to have ideas of its own as it sags heavily.

"Sorry," I mumble as he lifts me into his arms and carries me toward a convenient sofa. "I think I've been over doing it a little." I just manage to stifle a sigh of contentment at the feel of his arms cradling my body ignites something within me.

"Not a problem, Sara," he's amused, I can hear it in his voice as he places me on the sofa and rises to stand over me. He's looking down at me now with concern and it's unsettling to say the least. I'm not really sure I want him concerned about me, but at least its not that callous indifference he shows me so often. At this point, I reason sullenly, I'll take anything as long as it's not that.

"You wanted to see me?" he prompts me as I recline quietly before him. I'm uncomfortable in this position I realize so I move to sit up, and he shoves me lightly back down onto the couch with a determined shake of his head. "I think it would be best if you remained there for awhile longer, don't you? We don't want you passing out, do we?" His suggestion sounds so damn reasonable, why is that hint of sarcasm there in his voice to spoil it?

Shaking my head in dismay I quickly rise to my feet and pace away from him, not allowing him to see the anxiety that's spreading across my face as I realize how deeply lost I am.  This is going to be harder then I thought.  I can't simply hand him my heart on a platter nor can I simply throw myself at him.  If I try to play games he may become bored and lose interest.  Or he may catch me, and I find I don't want to be caught on the terms he's offered me in the past.  I have too much to lose that way.

Power, he wields it very well. He says I possess the real power, the Witchblade, but then he doesn't seem to see the bonds by which he's ensnared me. The way in which he manipulates my life is as intricate and intimate as any dance that any man and woman have ever taken part in. I often wonder where he will lead me with his knowledge of the blade. How close will he let himself get before his own sense of survival takes over and he withdraws from me again?

"You once told me that the Witchblade draws people together to achieve its own ends." I turn to face him as I speak and watch tensely as he nods silently in confirmation and before he can offer another answer I rush on hurriedly, "So why has it brought us together, do you think?"

He appears confused by my line of questioning, but he seems willing to answer. Humor the madwoman, I think darkly as he begins to tell me more of the history surrounding the gauntlet. So, there has always been a guide? Someone concerned with the blade to guide the wielder, even if they haven't been in the forefront of the histories, they've been there.

"So, you're saying that you're my guide?" He nods again, studying me more closely as if he's having trouble deciding what he should say next. Maybe he's thinking the same thing I am, that this discussion is starting to boarder on the inane.

"What is it that you really want to know, Sara?" He's approaching me, and all I can see are the icy depths of his eyes. Can you really drown in someone's eyes? The question flashes through my mind as he stops mere inches from me. He's so close I can feel his breath tickling my skin. Oh, God, is he doing this deliberately?

Without thinking I raise a hand to his chest as if to ward him off. The fire that rages through my system turns my actions against me. I wind up pulling him closer. His eyes are telling me that he's expected this all along. Damn him!

"Oh, Sara," he breathes softly, feathering his fingers through my hair, taking a firm grip. "How the mighty have fallen." His voice sounds wistful, but it's far too late now for it to make any difference. I've waited and wanted this for too long.

"Shut up," I hiss, my mind refusing to take the out he's so thoughtfully provided for me. "I didn't come here to fight!" I can't keep this up much longer. My resolve is crumbling. If I don't act now I'll probably run screaming from this office. Wouldn't that look good in tomorrow's paper?

'NYC Cop Sent Screaming From Mogul's Office'

Not exactly the kind of publicity either of us needs at the moment.

"Then why are you here?" He's quite serious now as his eyes stare into mine. Does he really have to ask?

"No, I don't," he replies as if divining my thoughts. "But you need to acknowledge the reason, Sara. You need to define what it is you really want from me, for both of us," he says as he pries my fingers from the death grip they've seem to have acquired on his shirtfront.

I'm left stunned and bewildered as he crosses to his desk. What does he want me to admit?  That I want him?  I've already done that! What more does he want from me?

Through a haze of frustration I watch as he buzzes his secretary and informs her that he'll be out of the office for the rest of the day. He turns to regard me then, casually leaning against his desk, crossing his arms confidently over his chest.  He scrutinizes me closely as if trying to come to a decision.

I watch as he reaches it and holds out an inviting had towards me.  I go to him without much thought to the consequences of my actions.  In truth, I stopped worrying about them a long time ago.

I give him my hand and feel a surge of desire as his fingers envelop mine completely.  In a move that I'm almost certain he's orchestrated, just for my benefit, he slowly raises our joined hands to his lips and places a gentle kiss on the palm of my hand.  It works perfectly.  If I was in trouble before I'm in desperate straits now.  My eyes lock with his and I feel whatever reason I still possess slowly slip away from me.  This isn't safe, but then again, when have I ever craved safety?

"Tell me this has nothing to do with your wanting to possess the Witchblade?" I know he can hear the faint edge of pleading in my voice, but I don't really care.  I have to know this is real.  I have to know it's me he wants and not just the Witchblade.

I watch, my heart sinking as his eyes darken and his jaw clenches in anger.  I just had to know didn't I?  Oh, why did I wake up this morning and decide I wanted to complicate an already confusing relationship?  I turn away from him, prepared to walk out of his office and never return, but his grip on my hand prevents me from leaving.  As I turn back to face him I see the pain in his eyes before he masterfully conceals it behind a curtain of sarcasm.

"I won't deny that I want to possess the woman who wields the Witchblade, Sara," his voice is cold as he lashes out, "Not even for you."

If he'd wanted to wound me he couldn't have picked a better method.  Gathering my courage around me like a shield I jerk my hand out of his grasp and back away in disgust.  What an idiot I was to believe that he could ever want me without the Witchblade.

"I should have known!" I'm practically yelling at him now, cursing both him and myself for this. "That's all you've ever cared about isn't it?  This!" I shove the wrist that wears the Witchblade in his face.  Let him have a good look at the damn thing, because I can guarantee it will be the last time he ever lays eyes on it while I'm alive!

"You expected me to deny it?  Now why would I do that?  If nothing else, Sara you can't claim that I've ever lied to you.  Withheld information, yes, but I've never lied to you.  Can you say the same?"

I lick suddenly dry lips as all the lies I've told to protect myself against him sound in my ears.  No, I can't say the same, and he knows it.  It makes everything worse somehow.

Why did I hope that we'd be able to make this work?  With the Witchblade between us our lives will never be our own.  It's orchestrating everything.  Why did I feel I could ever forget that?

I can feel myself falling, floundering and the urge to flee from all of this is overwhelming.  Looking up at him once more all I see is the gloating face of an enemy that I had hoped never to see again, no trace of warmth remains. 

"I think its time you were leaving, Sara.  You're far from ready for what I have to offer you.  I think that's become obvious.  Why make it painfully so?"  His voice is soft; full of derision and it hurts me more then a slap in the face.

I force a cold smile to my lips as I raise my gaze to meet his.  I see no trace of the man whose just tried to seduce me.  All I see is the villain my conscience knows him to be.  The pain is like a knife in my chest as the heart I wasn't even aware I had anymore is torn in two and all my illusions die.

I raise my hand so he can see the bracelet that hangs on my wrist.  The jewel that always seems so aware is silent now.  Mute to all that has taken place here between us.

"This is all you want?" I ask him casting my eyes briefly to the blade.  "Well, take a good long look because you'll never lay eyes on it again while I have it!"  With a determination I don't really feel I turn and leave Kenneth Irons behind me.