own. She commanded it to whirl, to slap him, to punch at him, but none of those things manifested. Instead, she stood perfectly still as she felt him slide his hands along her shoulders, slipping along the fabric of her dress.
He ran a hand over her hair, pulling the pins from the curls that kept her hair in a bun, and let the tight spirals fall loose along her back. He let out a low hum and combed his fingers through the strands. He had sharp nails that felt like claws, and they dragged along her scalp like a comb. No amount of willing herself to turn around was working. He had come close to touching her, but he had not done it yet.
She couldn’t even command herself to speak and could only make a soft whimpering sound at his nearness. She shivered and felt goosebumps spread. He repeated the gesture. Her eyes slid shut, lured by the feeling of those sharp points against her skin. It felt so good, even though she knew it shouldn’t.
A dark chuckle reverberated in him as he leaned his head in close. Cold breath pooled against her. “What a rare thing you are. So strong, and yet so fragile. And to never have been touched at all? This will be quite delightful, my treasure. You do seem to enjoy the sensation very much.”
He turned her to face him slowly, and he reached to the crimson choker at her throat. He pulled the brooch from the fabric and pinned it to his lapel. “I appreciate the commentary. I would hate you to think I overlooked it. You wore my color. You wore my jewelry. You paint yourself as my property, seeking to lure me into a trap. How did it go, I wonder? Has this worked to your satisfaction?” He reached behind her neck and untied the string that held the choker in place and tossed it aside. “You have lured me in, I will say that much.” He leaned toward her neck, and she felt his breath there against her. She knew what he meant to do.
“Please—I—" she gasped and tensed, her panic pushing through his control of her. “No!” When she shoved against him, she felt the spell snap. By her struggling or his release of it, she did not know.
He banded an arm around her lower back and pulled her flush against him. She felt as though she were in the grasp of a force of nature. He might as well have been a volcano or an avalanche. Crimson eyes bored into hers, and all her will to fight was robbed from her once more. She railed against his hypnotic spell, but she could not break it. She felt her limbs go slack, surrendering to him. No!
“I feel you fighting me. There is much strength in you, little empath. I cannot wait to taste you.”
He hovered his hand over her cheek. She whimpered. “Please—don’t—don’t touch me, you can’t.”
“If I do and you rip out my soul, then so be it. You will be the victor where all others have failed. If I don’t…oh, Maxine,” he grinned. “Think of the fun we will have.”
“Wait—”
“No.” And with that, he laid his palm against her cheek.
She quietly cried out as she felt the strength in him pour over her. Not only the power in his firm hand, but inside his very being. She felt him crash over her like a wave. She struggled to maintain control, but she was slipping. She tried to hold back the tide, armed only with a teacup as she was.
She shivered as he cradled her cheek in his touch, stroking her skin with his thumb.
“My, my. What’s this? A last bulwark?” He hummed. “Look at you, trying to stay in command of your gift. Do you seek to protect me?”
“No—”
“You are protecting yourself, then? Does this pose you any danger? I think not. I think you simply wish to avoid adding anyone to your list of victims. Tell me, how many people have you killed?”
“Stop, please,” she begged. Strings like yarn were stretching thin in her fingers. She couldn’t withstand him. She struggled to hold on. “Stop touching me. I can’t…I can’t control this for long.”
“Then don’t. Let go. You cannot harm me, little empath. I can feel you there, inside my mind. Mortals may not have the power to withstand you, but I am no mortal.” He leaned toward her throat once more. His lips grazed her throat.