Disclaimer: I do not own this show. What I have written is for entertainment purposes only.
Thank you Beckers for helping me when I asked you.
This is my second The Lost World story. I hope you like it.
Babs
PURGATORY
"You loved her so much and she loved you too. I knew it from the first moment I saw her." The woman's low voice gently taunted, "But that is over now."
John Roxton stood beside the stone altar, staring straight ahead, under her power yet tormented to the very depth of his damned soul.
"Now you are mine. Truly mine. I will never let you go. Not this time." Her hands rubbed his back firmly, savoring the feel of his tight muscles, and moved upward to his neck. She massaged it seductively then her fingers tangled in his hair, "Look at what you have done, my slave. Revel in it." She pushed his head down cruelly, forcing him to look at the last thing in the world he would ever want to see.
Roxton could only gape at her, the dead woman laying on the slab, a knife protruding out of her chest where he had plunged it into her heart not thirty seconds previously. She was dead and her expression, those eyes wide and terror filled, were fixed and open. They were pleading with him, asking him why he would do such a thing, how he could just throw away everything they had built together. She trusted him -- and she loved him -- and he was killing her.
Under his mistress spell, Roxton nevertheless felt the tears rolling down his cheeks and the sob escape between his lips. "No … no." he keened.
"Yes." she whispered in his ear. "Your precious beauty is dead, murdered by the man who loved her most, the lover she had faith in like no other, and you will hear her screams forever, my love. That is your punishment for betraying me, John Roxton."
"Marguerite …" he whispered, reaching forward, gasping her name.
Rough hands pushed him away.
"You will never feel her arms around you. You will never delight in her kisses. And you will never hear her voice, so loving and understanding it could be at times, utter your name again -- except in the memory of her screams when you stabbed the life out of her …"
"No! No!" he cried, his mind breaking, "No!!! God, Marguerite!"
Danielle, queen of the voodoo priestesses, resurrected by her devoted people, pitched her head back and laughed manically like the cold-blooded and cruel woman she was.
.........
Was it good? Do you want more?