She'd seen his kind before. She wouldn't have been here, otherwise, sitting in this expanse of marble and candlelight, of shadows that danced when you weren't looking and wind that whispered words on the edge of hearing.
His kind. The haunting kind. The fire flickering over his face. She watched him, as he sat there on the marble steps, the sound of his breathing noticeable by its absence.
His jaw, as flawless and hard as the marble statue next to him. The shadows of his nose, his chin, the angular lines of his face. The lack of a pulse beneath his smooth alabaster neck. His beauty. Despite her fear, or maybe because of it, she felt a tremor run through her legs, and a heat in her loins.
She stepped forwards, trying to glide on the flagstones the way Antonia had, smooth and graceful, but her legs shook beneath her. Scared. Excited. She felt it now, a palpable thing, hot and heavy in the air. Tension.
He smiled and she blanched, taking a step backwards. She'd felt it. He'd been there. Inside her head. His presence, his mind, his being. Stripping her soul bare. He smiled again, in that peculiar way they do, not exposing much of his teeth.
She licked her lips and swallowed.
"You're one of Them, aren't you?"
He didn't say anything. He just looked at her with those hypnotic brown eyes, and then he nodded. Just once.
"A woman.. Tall, graceful, long dark hair.. One of You. She brought me here." Her voice, barely audible. He'd heard her though. They heard everything. His eyes upon her, dark and unreadable, making her self conscious.
He smiled again, although only his lips moved.
Blood. Rising into her cheeks, making them flush. Blood. Rushing through her veins, hot and quick and bright. Blood. Her reason for being here.
He spoke, finally. Correcting her.
"Seduced." His words were fluid, rippling, live waves moving over the ocean. "You were seduced. And here you are. And you have no idea why."
She cast her eyes down. There was a long pause.
"To be like you." The words, falling from her lips like raindrops in a storm. Swallowed up by the thunderous silence.
"Like me", he said slowly. "Like us."
She took a step back. For a terrible moment there, he'd looked like her father. He shook his head and went back to staring at the fire, the orange flame dancing enticingly, teasingly. Michael, he'd said his name was. That voice, quiet, calm and rippling. Spoken as if he had all the time in the world. On reflection, she thought, he probably did.
He looked at her. Only once, and the look sent electric shocks from her nipples to her pussy and back again. She blinked and without warning, there was a breeze out of nowhere, the hairs on her arms rising, an involuntary shiver running through her body. The flicker of the fire and the dance of the candles extinguished in the same instant, and then the blackness was absolute. She was alone, surrounded by the dark and the silence and the cold, unyielding hardness of the marble.
A footstep. On the stairs. Above her. She stared into the darkness, seeing nothing. Another footfall, and then a chuckle. Supercilious, arrogant. A smirk given voice. She froze as out of nowhere a hand descended upon her neck, and she heard one word whispered in her ear.
"Yes." The voice was deep, resonant and sinuous, the hand on her neck holding her firmly, but without pain. Not Michael's voice. Not Michael's hand. She tried to turn, but the grip tightened, and she felt his other hand brush her hair away from the nape of her neck, and a soft, cold finger touched her skin.
"So beautiful," it whispered, and she could feel his cold breath on her ear. She shivered, maybe from fear, maybe from guilt-ridden lust. She couldn't tell. Her father's touch had erased the ability to tell the difference from her conscience years ago.
