Author's note: If you haven't read the CWs on the first part, this is where they start to matter. For reference: the story contains blood, violence, mentions of domestic violence/abuse, and mind control. Enjoy, and as always let me know what you think. Thanks for reading :)
Natalie
must
be wearing makeup, Paige thought as she studied the woman from the passenger seat while she drove them out of the city. Though she'd never seen a transformation quite like this.
The stuffy librarian had been replaced by a suave, strikingly beautiful woman ripped straight from the pages of a fashion catalog. Each of Natalie's features somehow felt more in focus than they had the night before, working in concert to produce an overwhelming aura that was equal parts elegance and strength.
Thin, dark eyebrows tapered into a narrow pointed nose. High, gently curving cheekbones pulled the eye downward toward luscious blood-red lips, and a sharp, angular jaw. Her hair was left down tonight, parted slightly off center with one side tucked behind her ear. The other side arched upward as if gravity had no hold over it, before folding over and plummeting back down like an obsidian waterfall, partially obscuring the left frame of her glasses.
Paige fought against her wandering eyes, which were constantly slipping down the deep V of Natalie's shirt where she could make out the swell of pale breasts and the edge of a satin bra. The puffy shirt and high waisted pants reminded her of a pirate, and Natalie carried herself with a confident swagger that had been absent the night before.
It was almost enough to intimidate a girl.
To Paige, every encounter was a battle. She'd learned young how to read body language, how to spot the hidden meaning lurking between words, like knives in the dark. How to armor herself with cynicism and clever wordplay so that they glanced off her as if they were nothing. When to play into expectations, and when to defy them.
When she'd looked up to see Natalie striding from the shadows like some kind of dark angel, she'd immediately found herself on the back foot. Infatuation and attraction were weaknesses she couldn't afford, and this new, more potent Natalie seemed poised to exploit both.
Luckily, as the night drew on, Paige found her footing. Natalie might act the detached vixen, but like anyone, she had her tells. As Paige played coy, doing her best to keep her opponent off-balance as she sized her up, they all added up to one undeniable conclusion:
The woman was down bad.
Natalie may have resisted her earlier advances, but there was plenty of time to tempt her. This was already shaping up to be the most lucrative month of her life. There was no telling how much more she could squeeze from her once Natalie was hers. Perhaps even enough to start a new life.
Natalie glanced toward her and Paige realized she'd been staring. She reached for something to say and landed on "Nice gloves."
Natalie's eyes returned to the road. From this angle they seemed
red
. It must be the light, Paige told herself.
"It's an old habit. My first vehicle came with a pair, and I suppose I got used to it."
The leather gloves whispered along the wheel as Natalie slid her hand down to the turn signal, flipped it, and guided the car into a gentle turn with a single, smooth motion. They whisked down a small road lined with bowing trees. Branches wove together to form a wicker tunnel that cast a net of shadows across the orange light of the street lamps.
Paige shifted nervously in her seat and played with the vent of an air conditioner.
"There'sā"A phone rang, cutting Natalie short. She gave Paige an apologetic smile and answered it. "Yes?"
Paige strained her ears but couldn't make out what the person on the other end was saying, only that it sounded like a woman.
"I'm about halfway done." Natalie said, matter-of-factly.
The road began to slope upward, and doubled back on itself. Paige stared out the window and watched the houses grow larger and further apart, keeping half her focus on the conversation.
"Of course, I'll have a draft by the end of the week." A pause, then, "You too. Bye."
Natalie returned the phone to her pocket without taking her eyes off the road. "My editor," she said. "I have a deadline coming up."
"For what?" Paige asked.
"A novel."
So Natalie was a writer. Paige chuckled at that, then asked, "She calls you this late?"
"I'm nocturnal."
"What do you mean?"
"I start work when the sun goes down and I'm in bed before morning. It helps me concentrate."
Like a vampire.
Before Paige could voice the comparison Natalie turned into the driveway of a lot that was completely surrounded by a thick wall of trees, and the thought was lost as an ironwork gate yawned inward, revealing a blocky mansion that was half dark wood paneling and half glass.
A short set of stairs turned once before reaching the elevated front door. Windows stretched from floor to ceiling and wrapped around one corner of the first floor, reflecting the moonless sky. A row of small spotlights pointed up at the structure, giving the impression that it was as much a work of art as it was a house.
"Welcome to my home."
Paige turned to find Natalie watching her, and fought the urge to squirm under the attention.
No one should be this hot,
she lamented. At least she could take solace in the fact that Natalie's eyes were indeed brown. A trick of the light after all.
"You know," Paige started, not quite knowing where she was going, "when you said you had a basement I assumed you lived in like a brownstone or something. Not this. Your books must sell well."
"It's a family home. I inherited it from my mother."
"Nice," she muttered. Then Paige remembered that other people liked their mothers and added, "Sorry for your loss."
"Thanks," Natalie said without emotion as she pulled the car into an attached garage.
*****
As Paige stepped through the front door into a large, open living space, she quickly realized two things.
The first was that her initial impression of Natalie hadn't been too far off the mark.
One half of the room was dominated by towering bookcases that lined the walls, reaching nearly to the ceiling. Every shelf was brimming with books of varying shapes and sizes, packed so tightly that Paige wondered if Natalie could remove them. Plants along the top crawled from their pots, hanging down over the top shelf like a curtain. Nearby there was an ancient leather lounge chair and matching ottoman, both distressed from use.
All signs of life ended there, however. The other half of the room was lifeless and sterile, untouched, as if it were more for show than anything else.
A modestly sized television was mounted above an electric fireplace that displayed crackling digital flames. Facing the TV was a black sofa and a glass coffee table topped with a vase of dried roses. In the other corner, where the windows converged, a grand piano sat on a circular slate-gray rug. All of it surrounded by bare, spotless white walls.
The second thing was that she was trapped.
Natalie shut the door behind them, and the heavy lock closed with a
thunk
as Natalie turned a key. Paige turned to look and realized that it locked from the inside. Her heart began pounding as she searched for another way out. The sudden weight of Natalie's hand on her shoulder caused her to spin and back away.
Natalie raised both hands in a gesture of innocence and said, "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Why do these locks need a key?" Paige ventured.
"You'd have to ask my mother." Natalie held the key between two fingers, considering it for a few seconds before saying, "Here," and tossing it toward her.
Paige snatched it out of the air and clutched it to her chest.
"I'll have a copy made. You can hold on to mine in the meantime."
"Thanks," Paige said. Her heart was beginning to settle.
"Come. I'll show you the rest of the house."
Natalie swept past her, and Paige turned to follow, slipping the key into the back pocket of her jeans.
Connected to the living space was a dining room with a long wooden table that sat six, and a kitchen with a gas range and two ovens stacked one atop the other. It was all spotless, without even a layer of dust. Paige supposed her work would be easy at least, if Natalie was this much of a neat freak.
They came to a fancy wooden staircase with a glass railing. The kind where you could see through the gaps between steps. "Upstairs is my bedroom and my office. Both are off limits," Natalie said, suddenly serious.
Now that she'd calmed down, Paige was determined to go back on the offensive. She took two steps up the forbidden stairs, and turned to face Natalie who frowned up at her.
"What are..." Natalie trailed off as Paige peeled away her hoodie, revealing the loose cropped tee she wore hanging off one shoulder.
Paige watched Natalie's eyes as they took her in. She could practically feel them skimming along her collarbone, tracing the strap of her bra down to her cleavage, reluctantly dipping to her exposed waist. She fixed Natalie with a smile.
Growing up the daughter of the town pariah, Paige's childhood had been defined by loneliness. She still had hazy memories of playing with other children when she was very young, but they quickly stopped talking to her. No one wanted their kid falling in with a girl like her.
Home wasn't any better. Her father spent the evenings gambling after his shift at the rail yard, and her mother was either working, or out with one of her men. When they
were
home they were usually drunk. Paige spent countless nights curled up in her bed, unable to block out the sounds of arguing that carried easily through the trailer walls.
Then, in middle school, things changed.
