Wake to Dream(15)

Their eyes remained locked as Max released his grip over her mouth, his gaze searching her face, his knuckles softly brushing over the red, raw marks across her cheeks. A nagging thought whispered along Alice's senses, a theory that begged to be spoken.

"You have my sister," Alice guessed, her voice gritty with panic, but hopeful that she'd discovered the answer to a question that had plagued her for so long. "You have Delilah."

His head cocked to the right, his eyes flashing with hidden knowledge and obvious amusement. "No, Alice, I have you."

Terror flooded her veins, a loss of control overtaking her and forcing a violent tremor through her body. Tears stung her eyes and reality spun around her. "Let me go," she begged.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he answered, his body leaning down until his mouth brushed her ear, his breath a blanket of heat against her neck. "I'll never let you go."

Straightening his posture so that he towered over her trembling and terrified form, he added, "And you won't want to go. Not after I've transformed you."

Casting his eyes towards the hallway, he instructed, "Come with me downstairs. I've much to show you."

Struck by the antiquated phrasing he'd used, Alice stared at him wide eyed. The tone of his voice had been so dignified, his cadence regal. He was a man who had come from wealth and privilege, every facet about him made that one fact painfully obvious.

Max' hand slid down her arm, his fingers finding and entangling with hers. She didn't bother struggling to break free, she already knew the crippling strength of his grip. If he were to squeeze her fingers as tight as he had her cheeks, it was likely the bones would be broken.

Crossing through the bedroom door, Alice again noticed the sound of the television in another room. The announcer had moved on from the morbid news broadcast regarding the disappearance of her sister and was now introducing another person to discuss the mundane details of the weather. The easy change in topic, and the cheerful quality to the anchor's voice, sickened Alice because it took away from the reverence that should have been paid to the news that a woman was missing.

After being led through a maze of dimly lit halls, she squinted against the harsh light of the grand stairwell. Small crystal chandeliers were hung so that they followed the gentle curve of the stairs. The crystal above her head shimmered in a soft breeze, the same oddly cold breeze that ruffled Alice's hair and kissed goosebumps across her skin.

Shivering in response to the change in temperature as they descended the stairs, Alice crossed one arm over her chest for warmth, but didn’t dare attempt to wrench her other hand from Max' grasp.

They reached the downstairs landing, her foot barely on the floor before Max jerked her in the direction of the kitchen. Sharp pain burst through Alice's tailbone and across her hips when Max forced her down onto a seat at the small breakfast table.

Lowering himself until he could glare at her at eye level, he grinned. More feral than friendly, the expression was alarming, especially for the way it deepened the lines of the scarring across Max' left cheek.

Slowly, methodically, his tone that of a patient adult speaking to a child, he said, "We're married, you and I. You are now my wife."

Stunned and confused by the odd statement, Alice narrowed her eyes, her brows pulled tightly together. "What?" she stammered. "What do you mean by that?" How she was able to get the words out, she wasn't sure. Her entire body was locked up, all except for the frantic hammering of her heart.

His placid expression never waivered, his calm demeanor and cool temperament at odds with the panic rising in Alice's throat. "Events have been set in motion," he explained, "lives merging and becoming dependent upon each other."

He paused, the breath of air he blew out between his lips ruffling the errant strands of wavy black hair that framed his face. "It's like I said upstairs, Alice: you will listen to me, you will obey me, and you will honor me."

"And if I don't?" she dared to ask, a note of barely contained rage hidden within her question.

Sculpted lips pulled apart into a feral grin, the expression not reaching his eyes except for a few faint lines that creased his cheeks. "Then I'll have to train you to do better."

Pushing up onto his feet, he broke their stare, his hands folding over themselves where he tucked them behind his back.

His booted steps ticked off his instructions as he paced in front of her, his tone calm and collected, a man who expected to be given everything he demanded.

"You will serve the functions of my wife while living in my house. You will cook. You will clean. You will greet me when I return from my errands outside of our home."

His heavy steps stopped, his body twisting in her direction while he delivered his last demand. "You will eventually perform other duties of a wife -"

Alice's gorge rose, a strangled cry falling from her lips at the implication of what would be expected - or forced - from her. Her thoughts went to the chains that hung above the upstairs bed, the strange stain on the otherwise pristine white carpet. Panic ratcheted inside her, each beat of her heart hard and swift as adrenaline poured into her veins.

"But, we are not there, yet."

His codicil statement did nothing to calm her heart. All she wanted was to go home, even if that home was forever locked in depressive chaos. She didn't want to be this man's wife. She didn't cook or clean - she wasn't willing to submit to whatever perverted duties he had planned for the time when they were there.