#he'd encourage her to embrace her rage

[juodojimirtis]

Fuck... I just realized, Ava's orphanage was named St. Michael's. If she were the actual St. Michael, imagine her rage when it clicked. Her prison, where she was tormented, and killed, bore her own name. Imagine her bitterness. Damn, the angst.

[zablife]

Now You Know the Truth (Part 4)

Summary: As you begin an uncertain period of recovery, Tommy is left to decide what's best for you.

Author's Note: This is an accidental series 🙈! For some reason I can't stop thinking about this couple. Ty to all my lovely readers who have kept me inspired by leaving such wonderful comments!

Warnings: child loss, manipulative behavior

Part 3

“Who am I?” Tommy repeated your question back to you in a hoarse whisper, his throat going dry as he realized you didn't recognize him. "I'm your husband, Thomas Shelby," he issued forth with authority, feeling a chasm open within his chest at the thought of you belonging to anyone but him. His hurt manifested in a sudden flicker of rage behind his eyes, causing you to jerk your hand away. The speed of your reaction surprised you, but not so much as the instinctual sense of fear coursing through you.

Pulling the blankets up to your chin protectively you muttered, "I'm sorry, I-I'm trying, but I can't seem to recall."

You sounded so weak and helpless before him, Tommy softened instantly at your apologetic tone. All the tension he held in his shoulders fell away as he offered a word of encouragement. "That's alright," he said gently. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," you sniffed appreciatively, feeling the throbbing ache return to your temples. No matter how you tried, you couldn't place him. While he had a handsome face, you knew you'd never seen him before in your life and that shook you to your core. The deep emotion behind his words made the situation worse, knowing he expected you to speak with equal passion. The whole ordeal was rather taxing in its complexity and you felt yourself becoming tired yet again.

"I think I need to rest," you informed him as you felt your eyelids grow heavy with sleep.

"Of course," Tommy replied. "If you need me, I'll be right outside."

---------------------

"What are sayin'? She don't remember nothin'?" Arthur asked, leaning in to study Tommy's perplexed expression.

"No," Tommy said simply as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe it's for the best," Arthur offered quietly.

Tommy snapped his head sharply as he demanded, "What the fuck did you say?"

Arthur ducked his head submissively as he mumbled, "Sorry, Tom, I meant the accident. She shouldn't have to think about it."

"No," Tommy murmured as he stood deep in thought. Then his face slowly began to lift as he considered his brother's words. "You're right. Perhaps it is better this way."

"How do you mean?" Arthur prodded, suspicious of Tommy's sudden change in demeanor.

With a glimmer in his eye, Tommy proclaimed, "I couldn't make her understand before, but now I have another chance. It's a whole new beginning."

-------------------------------

You opened your eyes with a start as the gravel crunched beneath the tires, signaling your arrival at Arrow House. "We're here, darling," Tommy announced triumphantly. Hastening to open your door, he helped you to stand with the utmost care.

Despite the dreary weather, you squinted against the daylight, unaccustomed to being outside for any length of time. Leaning into Tommy's strong arms, you whimpered at the pain at the base of your badly bruised spine.

"I'll have Frances bring the morphine as soon as you're in bed," Tommy promised in a soothing voice. You smiled up at him, wondering how someone could love you so completely. Though you still couldn't recall a single memory of your life together, you'd come to trust his recollections as replacement. He'd dedicated the better part of a month sharing photographs and stories at your bedside to ensure you knew every detail of your charmed life.

In that time, you also spoke of your future, with Tommy frequently expressing his desire for a son. The tenderness in his voice convinced you to lean into the first kiss you'd shared since your accident, a languid embrace which set you ablaze with need.

However, renewed anxiety and emotion swirled in your gut as he informed you of news from the doctor. Nuzzling his nose against yours Tommy promised, "We can try again soon. With any luck, you'll be pregnant again before Christmas." He lovingly rubbed a thumb along the base of your neck and you only hoped he couldn't feel the way your pulse thumped in terrified response.

"It's going to be everything we ever dreamed of," Tommy mused, oblivious to your panic.

Part 5

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Tag List:

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@trixie23

[huskerdustsimp]

Had a random thought last night about the HH characters playing Dungeons & Dragons, who they would be and how they would play. I asked ChatGPT for some help, here’s what it came up with (I think it’s pretty damn accurate!)

This has probably been done before but idk, please tag anyone who has had this idea already!

Charlie would be the DM. As the Dungeon Master, Charlie would be adept at creating intricate storylines and colorful NPCs. Playing as a wise and benevolent dragon, she'd offer guidance and support to the other players, acting as a mentor figure. Her character might possess ancient knowledge and magical abilities, using them to aid the party in their quests while imparting wisdom along the way.

Alastor would play as a tiefling warlock, embodying the sinister and mysterious nature of his character. He'd wield dark magic and make infernal pacts to gain power, using his charm and cunning to manipulate the other players and NPCs alike. Alastor would relish in playing the role of the enigmatic trickster, weaving intricate schemes and plots to achieve his own ends.

Angel would likely choose to play as a flamboyant and charismatic bard. He would be the life of the party, entertaining his companions with music, laughter, and charm. His character would use his natural charisma to sway allies and foes alike, whether through stirring performances or clever persuasion. Angel Dust would inject humor and levity into the game, keeping the atmosphere light-hearted even in the face of danger. He'd excel at role-playing and improvisation, adding flair to every encounter.

Husk would be a grizzled dwarf rogue, blending his natural resilience with stealth and cunning. He'd be skilled in infiltration and sabotage, using his rogue abilities to bypass traps and unlock hidden passages. Husk's character would bring a no-nonsense attitude to the game, preferring practical solutions over flashy displays of power. Husk would approach the game with a dry wit and a penchant for sarcasm, providing comic relief amidst tense situations.

Vaggie would probably play as a fiercely loyal and protective paladin, dedicated to upholding justice and righteousness. She'd be the moral compass of the group, always striving to do what's right even in the face of adversity. She would be a beacon of righteousness and justice, dedicated to vanquishing evil and defending the innocent. She'd be unwavering in her convictions, inspiring her comrades with her courage and determination. Vaggie would embody the virtues of honor and duty, leading by example and encouraging her fellow players to follow the path of righteousness.

Niffty would likely choose to play as an energetic and hyperactive gnome sorcerer. She would be a whirlwind of energy and chaos, casting spells with wild abandon and unpredictable results. She'd approach every situation with enthusiasm and curiosity, eager to experiment with her magical abilities. Niffty would inject spontaneity and unpredictability into the game, keeping the other players on their toes with her impulsive actions and cheerful demeanor.

Sir Pentious might play as a cunning and ambitious serpentfolk wizard. He would be a cunning and calculating strategist, using his intellect and magical prowess to outwit his enemies. He'd specialise in summoning and controlling minions to do his bidding, orchestrating elaborate schemes to achieve his goals. Sir Pentious would relish in the role of the villain, delighting in the chaos and destruction he could unleash upon the game world.

Cherri could play as a fierce and unpredictable tiefling barbarian. She would be a force of nature, unleashing her rage upon anyone who dares to challenge her. She'd revel in combat, charging into battle with reckless abandon and a ferocious determination to emerge victorious. Cherri would embody the primal fury of her character, tearing through obstacles with raw strength and unbridled aggression.

Lucifer would take on the role of a flamboyant tiefling rogue, embracing the opportunity to explore a different side of his character. As a rogue, Lucifer would be a master of stealth and deception, using his agility and cunning to outmaneuver his enemies and acquire valuable treasures. Despite his regal demeanor, Lucifer's character would possess a mischievous streak, delighting in pulling off daring heists and outsmarting his adversaries.

What do you think? I’m tempted to write a one shot DnD story based on this…

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

Sickfic Prompts | Open

@warofthebeasts asked: [ 👕 ] - helping them get changed [ zack helping seph because zack is a good bean and seph doesn't get taken care of enough ]

He felt cold, sick, empty, hot, overwhelmed and numb all at once. He could assume, with the basic mental effort he was able to put in right now, that a lot of it was due to overwhelming exposure to mako. He'd been exposed for years, but in such abundance, and during a time where he was already....regrettably and undefinably vulnerable, it seemed to had taken its tole.

But there was more...more he didn't fully understand, or perhaps didn't want to.

As much as the nausea swimming in his stomach, there was regret, piling further and further atop one another. The townspeople of Nibelheim...the local infantryman, the young guide...and Zack Fair himself, they had all laid witness and victim to weakness and failure and undefinable horrors.

In the deep, suffocating fog that seemed to be choking his senses and his ability to think and feel clearly, he remembered...rage, hurt, disgust, and a desire to hurt, the burn, to consume. He wanted to destroy, and he wanted to spread destruction.

And that desire still twisted in his gut, and yearned to surge forward. But more than that, awareness and disgust flooded that desire. He swallowed the lump in his throat, still feeling nauseas as he looked around the abandoned field before him. He'd been...dragged here...when?

Oh yes. After the two encounters and chase between himself and Zack. He had taken to Nibelheim, in the fog, in the hate, masamune at the ready, and a yearning smile on his lips as he could almost hear her voice, singing to him, praises and encouragement to do it, just do it, cut it down and burn it all.

But the Buster Sword stopped him after the first few injuries were inflicted--the judgmental gaze of Angeal crashed through his mind, the mocking but encouraging remarks for better effort from Genesis rung in his years, despite being tainted by the echeos of rot, rot, rot. But then those shining blue eyes tore past his awareness, trying to seperate the fog with their intensity and the words complaining about what was wrong, why he was doing this, what happened to him.

They fought, he couldn't remember how long, and that hunger twisted in his gut. The sing-song lullaby of his mother turned into screeching cries. He had to go to her, he had to save her.

He'd abandoned Zack Fair, and his unfortunate, wounded but still breathing victims in the town and made for the reactor. The nearer he drew, the louder he cries became. He would embrace her, he would remove her from her shackles, from whatever cruel containment she'd been left in. He was intent, but then there was that Buster Sword, and those eyes, and Zack's voice. He couldn't hear him through her cries, and he felt himself wanted to tear and claw out of his own skin. Deeper than Zack's reluctant slashes could sear him with pain, his mothers grin on him had him coming apart. He went to skewer Zack, but the man ducked mostly in time, though masamune did carve over his shoulder, cutting free the near useless pauldron.

Zack's cry of pain, the location of the injury, the location where Genesis had only days ago shattered his entire world, and the faintest grip on what he had once treasured that had been nurtured through the nights of Zack staying by his side in the mansion as he worked and studied, it all seemed to crash together.

He faltered, and staggered, and with tears he did not recognize were falling, he let out a cry of overwhelming frustration and lunged for Zack once more. But he had not recovered, and Zack just barely managed to overwhelm him.

He remembered the fall, plunging into the mako, and everything choking him harder, deeper, down into the depths of nothingness. He should have drowned. But something pulled him out

Someone.

That someone had pulled him out, and dragged him just beyond Nibelheim to a small abandoned farm. He had carried him, and cared for him, and Sephiroth, after how many days, had finally found himself aware and physically present enough to communicate. And just in time to find himself half naked. He had been changed out of his soaked uniform, and now adorned in underwear he'd never had before.

He looked around, but all he could see was spiky black. He blinked a few more times, and he began to feel. Firm, calloused, but warm hands situating his legs to prepare to slide pants.

"One after the other, buddy, we've got this." Zack's sure, warm voice finally overcoming the dull silence that had blocked his ears as if he were still under water.

"...Z-..." he tried to speak, smacking his lips, swallowing harshly and blinking through eyes that felt tired and like they could stick together if they shut too long. Blue eyes were on him again, in awe, but then warm. "Za-Zack..."

"Hey... Hey, Seph, it's alright..." He greeted, clearly happy to be hearing his voice again. "Sorry if you're cold, I just...finally found something that could fit you, to get you out of the mako-covered uniform. How...how are you feeling?"

'I'm f-..." he coughed, then felt himself shiver. He tried to steel himself and his senses, as if the shiver offended him, and his features teased.

"Hey, it's alright. You don't have to be like that...you know."

"Like what...weak?" he retorted coldly, but that tone drained rapidly, as if he had not the energy for it. He watched as Zack continued to try to dress him, working loose pants up both his ankles, though he tried to stop him. "I can do that...m-myself..." he tried to complain, reaching to grip the waist band, tugging it and ignoring how Zack's hands lingered to help. He tried to stand to tug them the rest of the way, and immediately staggered only to be caught by Zack who stood to support him.

"Hey..." that voice was softer than before. "Look...I know you can...but right now, you don't have to... I've got you...Sephiroth...come on, just...just stop. For once, just stop."

Sephiroth shuddered, wanting to push off of the other, but that warmth wanted to seep into his very bones, and he felt so tired. Legs giving way more, Zack helped him sit while working up his pants before he completely sat down.

"Why...are you still here?" he found himself asking, looking to Zack. "...What happened to Angeal...to Genesis...what became of me... This isn't...your burden, and yet..." he looked to Zack's shoulder, remembering the cut he'd made there, features tensing. "You shouldn't be here...enduring this curse, when it's not yours to bear."

"Yes, it is." Zack cut him off.

"No, it's not--"

"It is. You're my friend, so it is. I'm not leaving you, Sephiroth. This is all so fucked up, but this is more than we can understand... What we learned in the mansion? What happened with the other two, it's so complicated, and I know...as screwed up as what you did in Nibelheim was, you weren't you."

"How do you know that?" Sephiroth countered.

Zack tugged forth the shirt he'd found, an oversized sweater, and he presented it to prepare putting it on him. "Because I know you...and that wasn't you...like that beast wasn't Angeal, and like that jerk in the reactor couldn't be the Genesis you talked about being your friend. Because there is something else at work, that I still don't understand. And because, if that was you, you wouldn't have stopped, and you wouldn't be sitting here now...now would you?" he quirked his head. "Arms up."

Sephiroth stared, lips downturned, but reluctantly followed his instructions. The warmth of the sweater was welcomed, and he settled into it as Zack tugged it down and completely on him. "Zack... I don't...want this." This, being not wanting the other stuck in this position of looking out for him and standing against ShinRa. He didn't want to drag Zack further into this than he already had. He didn't want to face loosing or ruining anything else precious to him.

"...Let's stop lying, alright?" Zack countered with a small smile. "And stop being stubborn. You don't have to be the machine they made you anymore. So stop."

Sephiroth could only stare at Zack, words failing him. He wanted to stand, and run, leave him behind and try to figure out...what to do from here. But, he could find the strength, and the desire was dimming by the second.

"...How...?"

[anonymouslymadebydesign]

Drawing this from personal experience, so, hardcore projection. Less of a fanfic and more of just me talking into the air. @milkkteary

CW : self-harm, self-harm idealization, personification of SH

Dewdrop centered, mention of Papa Primo and Mountain towards the end

Word Count : 1,249

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　

Dew had been with the band for what felt like forever. It was just a handful of years but still, with everything that's happened and continues to go on, it just feels like too much.

The ghouls he first started out with, his family, his pack, were all but gone. Sure, he had a new one, and of course he loved them dearly. But how could he not mourn the loss of his previous pack?

Over the years, he watched as one by one left, some willingly, some not. He watched countless ghouls burn out, like a star collapsing in on itself. Unable to help. Unable to stop it.

So, when he found himself in a new home, so to speak, he didn't know what to do with himself. Sure, it was the exact same Abbey nestled in the middle of nowhere Sweden, the same room he'd decorated and felt at peace in. But with all these new summons, new siblings of sin, it was like a completely different place.

It was like being a newly summoned ghoul all over again.

It was all too overwhelming. The chores, the duties, everything. Practice, helping, supporting. He was the elder ghoul. He was one of the senior ghouls now. It used to be Ifrit… Alpha, Omega… now it was him.

He had never understood what humans meant by; ‘it makes everything feel better' when he first heard of self harm. It hadn't made sense to him, as to him, it seemed like it would make everything worse.

But as the hole in his chest grew deeper and deeper, as the pit of despair in him became too much to handle, he turned to it.

The allure of it was undeniably beautiful, like a siren song conducted just for him. Her natural mysterious nature, Her promises for a better world, a soft embrace and a quiet safe place in this never ending hell. She was a safe haven, a place to rest in the violent storm within him.

So when she offered her hand, Dewdrop took it.

The pain at first was scorching, drawing a sharp gasp from him. She held him in Her arms, cradling him just right and cleared the fog in his mind, like blowing cobwebs from an attic. The pain subsided into bliss, soft touches and kisses that soothed his troubled mind. For the first time, the raging storm in him subsided into calm waters.

It was easy enough to hide it. She told him that people hid them, because those around scorned Her love. They disapproved of Her method of caring for Her children, and whispered hate, always trying to separate Her from her beloved kits.

But not Dewdrop. She would care for him in life and death, for as long as he stayed up top and for as long as he was free down below. And Dewdrop was, if not anything else, a loyal and obedient ghoul.

So, he did what she told him to. Every time the fog came, he called Her name and just like she promised, She blew it away. She was his savior, the lighthouse when he got lost at sea.

He learnt that traditionally, humans would use sharp objects, splitting the skin in half and letting their blood spill out. Vertical, horizontal, everything in between.

Dewdrop, on the other hand, harnessed the magic of his element to dig the pads of his fingers, molten hot, into his skin, burning his Hellish flesh, leaving scorch marks in his wake. Every time he did, She would come and sooth his burns, encouraging him to take care of Her kisses so later on She could leave more.

Days turned into weeks as he slowly but surely pulled away from his pack. Not quite leaving, but simply observing. He spoke less, ate with them less and less, he even stopped joining the ghoul-piles he used to love being in the center of. He noticed they took note of his distance, but also saw how none of them reached out.

Despite knowing that he was the one to first begin to distance himself, there still was a sharp and cold sting knowing that they knew and didn't care. They saw he was becoming an observer rather than a pack member.

It cut him more than anything else. So, when She came back, holding him in Her loving embrace, soothing his mind and heart, he accepted Her never ending support. She was there for him, She was there to bandage his burns, She was there to kiss his tears and promise him a better life.

To cope, he went about his duties, day in and out, working all over the Abbey. When his chores and work were done, he'd wander around aimlessly, asking any higher up of the clergy if they needed assistance. Every time, someone was surprisingly delighted that such a sweet and helpful ghoul would be willing to lend a hand.

He needed to work; to keep his hands busy. So when he wasn't in the den, he was looking for work anywhere and everywhere. Which is exactly how he got caught in the first place.

He had been helping Papa Primo tend to his garden, helping the first Papa to pull the weeds out of his precious tulip garden. His sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows, most of his arms covered in damp soil from the previous rain. He hadn't expected Mountain, of all the Earth ghouls, to show up.

Now, the biggest difference between humans and ghouls was not just one being mortal and the other being hellish demons. The most noticeable difference was the skin tones of various ghouls.

When Dewdrop was first summoned, when he was a water ghoul, his skin was a soft dull blue. But, upon his elemental transition, his skin became hardened and blackened. His skin had become discolored, a dull orange, lines similar to magma cracks covering his body.

Noticeable to ghouls, invisible to the human eye.

“Dewdrop?” Mountain’s voice called from behind him, his eyes widening. It was soft, full of shock and sorrow. He sounded so small, hurt, and above all else, frightened.

Dewdrop sat up on his knees, his own eyes widening to that of saucers, staring up at the Earth ghoul with frightened eyes. In an instant, he knew that the other knew.

She came to Dewdrop in an instant, Her arms wrapping around him from behind, protective and feral. He didn't need to look to know She was baring Her sharp teeth at Mountain. A warning. A threat.

Mountain dropped to his knees in an instant, the quickness of it frightening the fire ghoul, who in turn scrambled backwards.

‘Run!’ She hissed in his ear. Then, directed at Mountain; ‘Leave my kit alone!’

“No, no, please…” Mountain reached out, watching as Dewdrop's breathing became erratic, panicked. “Please, don't, I-”

His heart was in his throat and before he knew it, he was scrambling to his feet and running away, ignoring the shout of his packmate and going as far as his legs would take him.

He didn't know where he was going, simply disappearing into the woods that surrounded the Abbey. He didn't even take into account the fact that the woods were every Earth ghouls sanctuary, how every Earth ghoul knew the woods inside out, like the back of their hands.

All he knew was Mountain knew of his self-harm, and just like She said, would try to separate him from Her. He was going to take Her kit away from Her.

[invisibleraven]

i’ll come back and challenge you, but how about rulie + ''we shouldn't do this'' but they do so, anyway

Reggie watches Lady Julie as she exits her grand estate, eyes trained on her every move, completely enraptured by her. His heart has been firmly in her hands from almost their first meeting, when she complained to her aunt about the local seamstress, and then went on to talk about women getting the vote soon. Reggie always did love an opinionated, political woman. Pity he could never have this one, as she was the daughter of an earl and he was the bloke who drove her around to dress fittings and house parties.

Yet Julie isn't a snob, she talks to him during their drives, he encourages her politics, her love of singing. She listens raptly as he tells her about his family, whatever book he'd borrowed from her father's library, the goings on in the servant's hall. Reggie would never claim them as friends, but he knows her, can hold a conversation with her. The most he says to the rest of her family is the usual 'Yes my lord, no my lady'. But Julie is different, and he supposes that's why he oh so stupidly confesses his feelings to her.

War is coming, and in an effort to be useful, Julie is going off to take a training course in nursing, with Reggie tasked in dropping her off. Yet at the appointed time that he should get back into the car, he stalls, taking her in, as if this will be the last time he sets eyes on her. "Are you ever going to say it?" she asks, voice timid, but eyes pleading.

"I was sure I would be slapped if I did."

"No, I could never... but-"

"There's no need for buts my lady. I know it can never be. Just know that my heart is yours until I wither and die." Reggie presses a kiss to her knuckles, loving her small flush, the way she doesn't reject him.

The war rages, and though he's called up, a minor medical issue keeps him from the fight. They exchange letters, never speaking their feelings, but keeping one another up to date. She returns, and though Reggie feels something boiling between them, says nothing. Until the night she comes to him in his cottage, and tearfully confesses she feels the same way.

"I adore you Reggie. I just wish it was a different time, a different world. Then we could be together." The tears gather in her eyes, and he brings her into his embrace.

"We could run away together, no one could stop us then."

"But... you're asking me to give up my family, my whole world. It's such a big thing. Where would we live? How would we get by?" She looks at him, her face trembling, letting his hands frame her cheeks. "We shouldn't do this."

"You're probably right," Reggie concedes, but he's still holding her face in his hands, eyes staring into hers. Asking permission, which she gives silently, and he lowers his face to hers, capturing her mouth in the sweetest kiss. It evolves into one of passion quickly, arms winding around one another, stumbling together as they land in a heap in his chair, giggling and crying.

"When you're ready to run away with me, I'll be here," Reggie promises. "We'll elope to Gretna Green, and live on our love. Perhaps in London, I have friends there, musicians who could help us. It'll be a different life, but together we could make a go of it."

"The war is almost over, so when it ends, I'll tell my father and he can either give us his blessing or we can leave without it." Julie is decisive, and kisses him once more before stealing away, promising they will be together soon.

Ray is of course, not okay with the prospect of his only daughter running away with the chauffer, but after almost losing Rose to Spanish Flu, he refuses to hold her back, and gives his permission, if not his blessing.

They marry in London, only her family there, and Reggie's friends. He joins them in making music and picks up a job as a photographer at one of the papers, becoming quite sought after. Julie works her way up the ladder at the opera house, and has to crow when she learns the Queen is a fan. They occasionally head home to Julie's family estate, and things get better with every visit, especially after Luna is born. Ray dotes on the girl and eventually asks them to stay. After much discussion, they relent, though they still spend the season in London quite often.

Julie looks at her family, picnicking on the grounds, Reggie and her father deep in discussion on how to modernize the estate, Rose bouncing Luna on her lap while Victoria and Carlos enjoy the lovely spread of food. She never dreamed she would find herself in this life, happy and whole with all those she loves surrounding her. Julie smiles and sends a silent thanks to whatever force made her give in and kiss Reggie, even though they shouldn't, because look at all she would have missed out on if she hadn't.

[ghostcatsso]

We're going to have a memorial for Elizabeth. Alex asked me to meet up with her and ride with her to it.

I'll happily keep her company.

As we rode there, she told me about her relationship with Elizabeth.

We'd get into fights more times than I could count. She was always scolding me for being too reckless. And don't get me started on all her stupid rules! Before her I never had that, you know? I know my mom loved us, and tried to provide for five kids as a single mom as best she could, but...it wasn't enough. She wasn't there. I had to figure out how to keep food on the table, how to keep our clothes clean, where to hide the things you cared about so they wouldn't get stolen. I was always bailing James out of trouble but there was no one to catch me when I fell. Until Elizabeth. When I did something stupid, she was the one who picked me up at the station. When I failed, she would tell me to try again. All those rules weren't her trying to make me into someone else. She was helping me be my best self. It was love, and I was too stubborn to see it. Elizabeth was the first person to see me as not just some angry kid raging against the world, but as someone better. Someone who could be a hero.

Poor Alex, she was especially close to Elizabeth. This is so hard on her

We arrived at the funeral and Lisa gave Alex some advice about grieving. I guess she has experience loosing a mother, too.

Time to mingle, see what everyone has to say about Elizabeth.

Derek asked the soul riders to tell him about Elizabeth, since he didn't really know her.

Linda talked about her knowing better than anyone what it's like to be a soul rider, since she used to be one herself.

Anne said Elizabeth taught her to be herself, even under the pressure of her parents and her family's reputation.

Linda added that she admired that Elizabeth wasn't afraid to show that she didn't have all the answers, but encouraged her to seek them out and learn as much as she can. Even when she was keeping things from us, she was doing it to protect us.

Derek asked if we'll be okay without such a great leader, and we admitted it will be hard but we'll get through this together.

Herman told stories of Elizabeth first coming to Jorvik. She struggled to learn to ride on just some training horse before she found her Concorde. She was shy and nervous around horses at first, but she loved them as much as anyone filled with the light of Aideen. One day while they were out on a ride, her horse spooked and ran off into the forest with her. Later she returned, having not only stayed on the horse's back, but managed to calm the horse down. Something must've happened out in the forest that day, because ever since then she was an amazing rider.

Herman also talked about Starbreeds and how they often reflect their rider. Soul riders, too, will start to reflect their horses when their bond is strengthened. Every Concorde he's met, and that's three generations now, has beamed with pride. Before Elizabeth met him, she was determined but shy. She would let others take credit for her accomplishments. When she bonded with Concorde, his pride rubbed off on her and her confidence blossomed. She embraced her talents and no longer let anyone push her around.

Spymaster said that when he first heard what had happened to her, his first thought was that he had never returned her hairbrush. He didn't even notice he was crying until one of his little critters came to comfort him. Grieving is a funny thing, and everybody does it differently. It's those little silly moments, like swapping hair products, that he will miss the most.

Mrs Holdsworth expressed regret that she couldn't have known Elizabeth better. The druids don't look too kindly on witches, and Elizabeth had her own reasons to not trust witchcraft. Still, she always had the utmost respect for her.

Nic said he could've been a druid if he wanted, but he was too interested in exploring, and it would've required him to stay put. He sensed that Elizabeth was the same way, and that she missed that she couldn't go wandering. They would regularly have lunch together and she would bake him banana bread in exchange for stories of his adventures.

Captain Brus said he remembers Elizabeth as a firey-haired teenage stowaway who ran away to Jorvik to make a difference. Around thirty years ago he was asked by the keepers of Aideen to dock his boat in a certain place for an hour, and then take off. No cargo to load or unload, just dock for a while and then leave. He knew better than to ask too many questions of the druids, so he did as they asked. Soon he found why he'd been ask to dock there. He found Elizabeth hiding under a tarp in a lifeboat. She was shivering, wet, and half starved. He took her up to his cabin and got her tea and sandwiches and listened as she told him about the wicked home she was escaping, the strange dreams that had been haunting her, and the strange symbol that appeared on her leg. It was the symbol of the sun circle. He's worked with her many times since then, both when she was a soul rider and after horrible tragedy broke apart her sisterhood, and she has always shined bright with the light of that stowaway who fled to Jorvik long ago. She was a girl who gave up her name and became a "Sunbeam".

Maya said she wishes she got to know Elizabeth better. She was always a little afraid of her. She seemed to look at her like she expected her to mess up at any moment. Alex said that's because Maya snuck into the Stone Circle once, Fripp was so angry.

Aw, poor Maya just wants to be a hero like Alex. Also, it sounds like Alex spends all her time after missions crashing on Maya's couch and eating all her food. That's so cute

Agnetha explained that all the red wild roses are because they were Elizabeth's favorite flower. She said she wants to plant a whole bunch of them around Jorvik to remember her.

Elizabeth's horse, Calanthe, will need someone to look after her now. Rhiannon first suggests Avalon, but he protests that he doesn't have enough time to care for a horse right now. Evergray, on the other hand, really needs to stop hitching rides with me. Plus Calanthe seems to like him. I think they'll get along great.

Concorde is too young to really understand what has happened, but she can feel the loss of someone so strong in the sun circle. The other guardians reassured her that Elizabeth's soul will live on in her memory.

Finally, the memorial is over. The soul riders got together for a meeting.

Without Elizabeth, we're kind of on our own now. We need to figure out what's next for us. We decide to focus on two things we need before we can fight Dark Core and Garnok.

We need to heal Fripp. We need his guidance.

And we need to figure out what to do about Concorde. Anne can't very well ride into battle on a foal, after all.

[pellelavellan-a]

Verse: DND

okay so I finally remembered! But for my dnd mutuals this is for you.

Class: Grave Cleric

Pelle was born to a small settlement of elves who lived deep in old ruins of people long since dead. They were superstitious people, terrified of everything that roamed about the enchanted forest that surrounded their ruins. The creatures that dwelled in the woods were--not friendly towards them, and while when left to their own devices were not malicious the sight of elves in their forest stirred anger inside them that often led to violence. For as long as most of his people could remember, they'd been at odds with the nature of the forest, constantly turning to ancient rituals and tools to keep themselves separate from the creatures they'd deemed dangerous.

When Pelle was born, he was a sickly child. Rumours spread about that his mother was involved with forces beyond their understanding in hopes that she could save her son fro dying an early death. He recovered eventually, but with it came strange abilities that frightened his people. the creatures were not threatened by him. He could speak to them, touch them even.

Paranoia and hysteria caused his people to cast him out from the ruins as a child, leaving him to whatever was out there. He wasn't the first. His people were not fond of magic as they felt it attracted the nature of the forest to their door. He was one of many children over the years given an enchanted pendant that kept them from re-entering their home. What had set him apart was that the other children were not at all blessed with magic, and so they often met terrible fates.

Pelle was different though. For the creatures in the forest, it comforted them to see a mortal that was not afraid of them, or saw them as monsters. They embraced his presence and while he was not one of them himself, he lived among them as if he were. There was one in particular he'd grown quite close to. She was like the mother he'd never gotten the opportunity to know, a guardian spirit. Surviving in a forest that seemed always out for blood wouldn't have been possible without her guidance, but she took good care of him.

Time would eventually lead him to learn that the reason the forest was the way it was was all thanks to a lych who lived in the graveyard, the last of his people whom had previously occupied to ruins.

He was angry. Very angry. It filled him with rage to see people living in his halls, digging up his people's belongings, using them for a purpose they were never designed for. This lych actually had quite a lot of influence on the way the forest's nature was so aggressively against the elves leading what could have been a normal life. His displeasure with them had provoked him to make things as difficult as possible for them. To frighten them by sending their undead children out to terrorize them, make the trees seem to watch them with malice, and give them an overwhelming feeling that their presence was not welcome.

The Lych's effect on the woods had a negative effect on Pelle's guide. Before the Lych had turned many years ago she was the reigning power in the forest. She made the trees grow, the rain fall, protected life, and respected death. The years of anger and disarray had caused her to lose some of that power, or at least she was strained to maintain it with such a heavy force of anger in the midst.

As Pelle grew up he found himself becoming something of a barrier between his people and the lych. Now that he knew that what had caused the reality he lived in was a lack of balance, disruption of things that were sacred, and power struggles between mortals and the land they walked on he worked very hard to try to undo some of the damage his people had done for generations.

He was of course no deity himself, but he acted on her behalf in ways she could not. Protecting the living, respecting the dead, and trying to encourage peace amongst the creatures who were so often twisted with anger against anything but themselves.

It wasn't easy in the slightest, but nothing good could come from angering the Lych more. He found he didn't feel much pity for his people, save for the children they abandoned. His sympathies rather lay with the creatures who had embraced him who also suffered from the unspoken war between his people and the forest, and his guide whose only wish was to restore it to its original beauty.

[365dniprivate]

Chapter 4

Giardini Naxos - the town where Martin and I had arrived a few days ago, lay several kilometers from Taormina and was visible from virtually everywhere in the city. It dawned on me that this city had previously been one of our sightseeing destinations, which is why it'd felt so familiar. What if we came across Martin, Michał or Karolina? Would any of them try to step in and rescue me? I fidgeted restlessly in my seat while considering this thought.

"They left the island yesterday," he said, as if reading my mind. How did he know what I was thinking about? I stared at him with a puzzled look, but he didn't seem to notice.9

When we arrived, the sun was slowly setting on the streets of Taormina. The city was teeming with life; hundreds of tourists and residents, tempted by numerous cafes and restaurants, filled the narrow, picturesque roads. I smiled when I began to notice signs pointing to all kinds of luxury boutiques. These stores were a common sight in Warsaw, but in a place that was practically at the end of the world, they were completely unexpected.

The car stopped, and the driver got out to open the door for us. Massimo offered me his hand to help me exit the large SUV. Another car pulled up next to us, from which stepped out two men dressed in black suits - Massimo's protection. He led me down one of the main roads, his men following behind at a close distance so as not to draw attention to themselves. If their goal was to blend in, a better outfit would've been shorts and flip-flops, though I supposed it would've been difficult to hide a weapon in beach clothes.

The first store we visited was the Roberto Cavalli boutique. We'd no sooner stepped through the door when a saleswoman rushed to us, warmly welcoming my companion, then me. An older man, dressed quite fashionably, came out of the back room and greeted Massimo in Italian with two kisses on the cheeks, then turned toward me.

"Bella," he said, holding my hands; it was one of the few words in Italian that I understood. I smiled warmly at him, in thanks for his compliment.

"My name is Antonio, and I'll be helping you select the perfect wardrobe," he began in fluent English. He studied me for a bit, then stated matter-of-factly, "Size 36, yes? Maybe even 34, depending on bra size."

"As you can see, nature hasn't endowed me well," I said, pointing with laughter to my breasts.

"Oh, my love!" Antonio exclaimed. "Roberto Cavalli loves such shapes! Let us go and give Don Massimo a chance to rest."

Massimo sat down on a couch made of luxurious silver material. A cold bottle of Dom Pérignon was waiting beside him, and one of the grateful saleswomen filled a glass for him. Massimo gave me a lustful look, then opened a newspaper and started to read.

Antonio, whistling contentedly, brought dozens of dresses to the fitting room, flying past me while carrying garments of incredible value. You could easily purchase an apartment in Warsaw with how much these all cost, I thought. After trying on clothes for a little over an hour, I settled on a few different outfits that were packed away for us in decorative boxes.

The situation was similar in the other stores we stopped at - an excited, over the top welcome and endless shopping. Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Louboutin; each time, Massimo would sit down and flip through his newspaper, talk on his phone or check something on his iPad. He didn't seem to be interested in what I was doing at all, which on the one hand felt like a nice reprieve, but on the other hand annoyed me greatly.

I couldn't figure him out; this morning it'd been nearly impossible for him to tear himself away from me, and now that he had the opportunity to see me in all of these beautiful clothes, he wanted nothing to do with me. Is this how Julia Roberts felt in Pretty Woman?

Victoria's Secret, which was our final destination, greeted us with a barrage of pink. The color was everywhere - on the walls, on the couches, on the saleswomen; it made me feel like I'd fallen into a cotton candy machine.2

Massimo looked at me while pulling the phone away from his ear. "This will be our last stop for today; we're almost out of time. Keep that in mind while shopping," he said casually, then turned away, sat down in a nearby chair and resumed his conversation. I stood there and looked at him disapprovingly - not because the shopping spree was over, as I'd had enough, but because of the way he'd treated me.

"Signora," the saleswoman called to me. She invited me into the fitting room with a friendly gesture. The first thing I noticed as I walked in was the sheer number of bathing suits, lingerie sets, and pairs of underwear that'd already been set aside for me, with the mountain of colorful fabrics - mainly lace - fully covering one of the chairs.

"You don't need to try on everything, just one or two sets so I can be sure that the size I've chosen for you is correct," she said and disappeared, sliding the heavy pink curtain behind her. What are all these panties for? I haven't owned this many pairs in my entire life, I thought.

I leaned out from behind the curtain and asked the saleswoman, "Who chose all these?"

She jumped to her feet and stepped closer. "Don Massimo asked that we prepare these items from our catalogue specifically for you."

"I understand," I said, hiding back behind the curtain. I began to notice a distinct pattern while rummaging through the pile: lace, lace, and more lace, with one or two cotton pieces thrown in. How incredibly comfortable, I grunted ironically.1

I chose to try on the combined silk and red lace set, and slowly took off my dress. The delicate bra fit perfectly on my small breasts, and I was thrilled to find out that, although it wasn't a push-up bra, it made my bust look very tempting. I bent down and dragged the lace thong over my legs. When I straightened up to look in the mirror, I saw Massimo standing behind me. He was leaning against the fitting room wall with his hands in his pockets, eyeing me up and down.

I turned and glared at him. "What are you..." was all I managed to say before he grabbed my neck and pressed my back to the mirror. He clung to me with his whole body, gently running his thumb over my lips. I tensed up, his body blocking my every move. He stopped playing with my mouth and stretched his arm around my neck. The embrace wasn't strong, and it didn't have to be; he just needed to assert his dominance.

"Don't move," he said, piercing right through me with his wild eyes. He looked down and groaned softly. "You look nice," he hissed through his teeth, "But you can't wear this - not yet."

The words "you can't" were spoken by him with encouragement, almost as if it was an order for me to do the exact opposite. I moved my bottom away from the cold mirror and slowly took a step forward. Massimo didn't object, moving backward with the same rhythm and speed as I was moving forward, keeping his hand clamped on my neck the entire time.

When I was far enough from the mirror that he could see me completely, I noticed that his gaze was fixed on my reflection, as if watching his prey. He was breathing loudly, his chest rising more rapidly, his pants growing too tight.

"Massimo," I said softly. He turned his gaze away from my ass and looked into my eyes. "Leave the fitting room, or I guarantee this will be the first and last time you see me like this."

He smiled, treating what I'd said as a challenge. His hand tightened around my neck, and his eyes burned with a combination of rage and desire. He took a step forward, then another, and stuck my body against the cold mirror again, releasing my neck.

"I chose all of this for you, and I'll decide when I see it," he said calmly, then turned and left. I stood there for a moment, feeling enraged and overjoyed at the same time; I was starting to understand the rules of his game, and starting to learn my opponent's weak spots.

As I was putting my dress back on, I felt my anger consuming me. I grabbed the pile that was sitting on the chair and barged out of the fitting room. The saleswoman jumped up, but I stormed past her to find Massimo sitting on the couch again. I went and threw everything I was carrying in my hands at him.

"Here - you chose all this, so have it!" I screamed, and ran out of the store. The security detail that'd been waiting outside the boutique cared little as I passed them; they simply looked back to check on Massimo, then relaxed.

I ran through the crowded streets, wondering what I'd just done and what would happen to me. I saw a staircase between two buildings and quickly climbed it. There was another staircase, further down from where I stood, so I ran to it and continued climbing higher and higher until I was about two blocks away from where I'd escaped. I leaned against the wall, exhausted; though my shoes were beautiful, they were definitely not made for running. I looked toward the sky, at the castle overlooking Taormina. Fuck no, I can't endure a whole year of this, I thought.

"It used to be a fortress," I heard a voice say from behind me. "Do you want to keep running there, or will you save my men the effort, and remember - they don't have the same heart condition as you."

I turned to see Massimo standing on the steps. I could tell he'd been running after me, as his hair was now messy from the wind, but he wasn't gasping for air like I was. He leaned against the wall and casually put his hands in his pockets.

"We must head back now; if you need a work out, there's a gym at my residence, along with a swimming pool. If you were just interested in running up some stairs, I've got a number of them waiting for you."

I knew I had no choice but to go back with him, but at least for a brief moment it'd felt like I was doing what I wanted to do. He reached his hand out to me, but I ignored it and started back down the stairs, where two men now stood in black suits. I glared at them both, walked to the SUV parked next to them, climbed inside and slammed the door.

* * * * * * *

It was a while before Massimo joined me in the car. He sat next to me, phone to his ear, until we arrived back at his villa and parked in the driveway. I had no idea what his conversation was about, as I only understood a few words of Italian, but his tone was very flat and calm. He listened for most of the call, speaking only a few brief sentences here and there, his body language giving nothing away.

I tried grabbing the door handle to exit the vehicle, but it was locked. Massimo finished his conversation, put the phone inside his jacket pocket and looked at me. "Dinner will be ready in an hour; I'll send Domenico to get you."

The car door opened and the young man extended a hand to help me out. I got out without his help and passed him, smiling brightly. I walked inside, with Domenico following close behind, and kept my focus away from the area that'd been the scene of last night's nightmare.

"To the right," he said quietly as I headed through the wrong door. I looked back and nodded, thanking him for his direction, and moments later arrived back to my room. Domenico stood in the doorway, as if waiting for permission to enter.

"I'll have the items you've purchased today brought here for you. Is there anything else I can do for you?" He asked.

"Yes, I'd like to have a drink before dinner - unless I'm not allowed to, of course."

He smiled and nodded knowingly, then disappeared into the darkness of the corridor. I went into the bathroom, closed the door and threw off my dress. I stood in the shower and turned on the cold water; after today, I needed to cool down. The freezing water made it difficult to breathe but became pleasant after a while, and once my emotions had been cooled, I increased the temperature. I washed my hair, applied conditioner and sat back against the wall. The water was comfortably warm and flowing gently down the glass panels surrounding the shower, soothing me.1

I took a moment to stop and think about the day's events. I was so confused; Massimo was such a complicated man, and very unpredictable. I realized that if I didn't start to accept the situation I found myself in and try my best to live a normal life, I'd quickly become defeated.

Another thought occurred to me - What was I fighting for? There was nothing waiting for me back in Warsaw, and everything I'd once had was now gone; all that was left was the adventure that fate had thrust upon me. It's time to get a grip and come to terms with this situation, Laura, I thought to myself, then stood up from the floor.

I rinsed my hair and wrapped it in a towel, then put on a bathrobe and left the bathroom to see dozens of boxes filling the bedroom. I was overwhelmed at the sight of them, but I had a plan in mind for my purchases.

I found some bags with the Victoria's Secret logo and started to dig through the dozens of options Massimo had picked out for me, eventually coming across the red lace set I'd tried on earlier in the store. I searched some more boxes to find a short, see-through black dress, then pulled out a matching pair of Louboutin heels. Now that's an outfit that Massimo definitely won't be able to handle.1

I headed back to the bathroom, toward the vanity, taking the bottle of champagne that was by the fireplace with me. I poured myself a glass and emptied it in one breath; I needed some liquid courage. I poured another, sat down in front of the mirror and got to work with my cosmetics. When I'd finished, my eyes were well defined, my complexion was perfect and my lips glistened with flesh-colored Chanel lipstick. I dried my hair, curling it slightly and pinned it up in a tall bun.

Domenico's voice came through the door. "Laura, dinner is waiting."

"Two more minutes, and I'll be ready," I shouted through the door while putting on my underwear. I quickly threw on the dress, slipped the high heels over my feet and generously applied some of my beloved perfume. I stood in front of the mirror and nodded with satisfaction. I looked simply divine; the see-through dress was stunning, and the red lace that showed through perfectly matched the red soles of my shoes. It was very elegant, and very provocative.

I quickly finished my third glass of champagne and, though slightly inebriated, was ready for dinner.

Domenico opened his eyes wide as he saw me leave the bathroom. "You look..." He paused, searching for the right word.1

"I know, and thank you," I replied, smiling flirtatiously.

"Those heels are to die for," he said, almost whispering, and gave me his arm. I took it and allowed him to lead me through the corridor. We went out onto the terrace where I'd had breakfast this morning, the canvas roof now reflecting the light of hundreds of candles placed neatly around the patio. Massimo stood with his back to us, staring off into the distance.

"I'll go on alone," I said, letting go of the young man's arm.

With that, Domenico disappeared, and I took a step toward Massimo. He looked back at the sound of my heels hitting the stone floor. He was dressed in gray linen pants and a light sweater of the same color, with the sleeves rolled up. He approached the table and set the glass he'd been holding in his hand down, watching every step I took as I came to him.

He leaned back on the table as I stopped in front of him, parting his legs slightly. I stood between them, keeping my eyes on him. The sexual tension between us was electric, and I would've been able to feel his desire for me even if I was blind.

"Do you like what you see?" I asked quietly, biting my lower lip. Massimo straightened himself to show me that, even in high heels, I was shorter than him.

"You are aware," he whispered, "that if you tempt me now, I won't be able to control myself?"

I rested my hand on his hard chest and gave him a gentle push, signalling that I wanted him to sit down. He didn't resist me, and slowly sat down in the chair. His eyes were curious and burning with passion - he examined my face, my dress, my shoes, and above all, the red lace that dominated my outfit. I stood close enough to him that the only scent he was able to focus on was my perfume. I tucked my right hand in his hair to gently pull his head down, and he gave in to me completely.

I brought my lips closer to his, and quietly asked, "Are you satisfied now?"

After a moment of silence, I let go of his hair, went to the cooler and poured myself a drink. Massimo was still sitting there, inspecting me with his eyes, his lips forming a smile. I sat down away from him, playing with the edge of my glass.

"Let's eat," I told him, giving him a bored look.

He stood up and came toward me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He bent down, took a deep breath and whispered, "You look wonderful." He brushed the edge of my ear with his tongue. "Never has a woman affected me the way that you do."

His teeth ran gently over my neck. A shiver coursed through my body, the beginning of which radiated from between my legs. "I want to throw you on this table, pull that short dress up and toss away those panties." I took a deep breath, feeling the excitement growing within me.

"I could smell your perfume from the doorway; I want to lick it off your entire body," he continued, then began to clench and move his hands rhythmically and firmly around my arms.1

"There's one place on my body that you can't touch yet," I said.

"And that's exactly where I want to be," he replied, ending his sensual argument with me. He started to gently kiss and bite my neck. I didn't object, turning my head to the side for better access. His hands slid slowly down my neckline and eventually came to my breasts, which he squeezed firmly. I let out a low moan.

"I know that you want me, Laura." I felt his hands and lips move away. "But remember, this is my game, and I set the rules."

He gave me one final kiss on the cheek, then sat in the chair next to me. He'd won and we both knew it, but that didn't change the fact that his pants were once again too tight for his body. I pretended to be unmoved by the situation, but that only seemed to amuse my companion. He sat there playing with his glass of champagne, a sly smile clearly visible on his face.

Domenico appeared in the doorway, looked at us then disappeared back into the house. A moment later, two men came out to serve us a starter of carpaccio and octopus, which were both delicious, and the next few courses only got better.

We ate in silence, giving each other quick, playful glances from time to time. As we finished, I moved my chair away from the table, poured another glass of pink wine and said, "Cosa nostra."

Massimo shot me a warning look.

"As far as I know, it doesn't exist - is that true?"

He sneered and asked in a low voice, "What else do you think you know, baby?"

I started to nervously turn the glass between my fingers. "Well, I'm sure everyone has seen The Godfather; I'm just wondering how much of that movie is true about you."

"About me?" He asked, surprised. "There's nothing in that movie about me, as far as I know."

I could tell he was making fun of me. He wouldn't answer my roundabout questions, so I asked him directly, "What exactly do you do?"

"I'm a businessman."

I didn't give up, pressing him again.

"Seriously? You expect a year-long declaration of obedience from me, but you don't think I should know what I'm signing up for?"

His expression turned serious, his eyes glaring at me. "You have every right to expect some answers, and I'll give them to you as much as I can; you deserve that much, at least." He took a sip of his wine. "After my father's death, I became the chosen head of the family, which is why people address me as 'don'. I own several companies - clubs, restaurants, hotels; think of our family like a corporation, and I'm the CEO. Our family is part of a larger overall group, though, but I won't get into that now. If you'd like the full history I can give it to you, but I think having such intimate knowledge would be unnecessary, and even dangerous."

He seemed to be growing increasingly more annoyed as he spoke. "To be honest, I'm not sure what it is, exactly, that you want to know. Are you asking if I have a consigliere? Well I do, and I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough. Are you asking if I'm a dangerous man, or if I solve my problems through violence? I'm sure those questions were answered for you last night. Now, is there anything else?"

There were a million thoughts running through my head, but nothing more that I needed to know then. The situation had been clear for some time, though I hadn't realized it. I guess my questions really were answered last night, like he said.

"When will you give me my phone and computer back?"

Massimo adjusted in his chair, throwing his leg onto his knee. "Whenever you want, baby. We'll just need to discuss what you'll say to the people you want to contact."

I drew a breath to say something, but he raised his hand to cut me off. "Before you even start, let me tell you how this will go. You'll call your parents, and if necessary, you'll fly back to Poland." My eyes lit up at those words, and the expression on my face turned to joy.

"You'll tell them that you received a very lucrative job offer at one of the hotels here in Sicily, and that you intend to take the offer. I'll make sure the contract includes a one-year probationary period, so you won't have to lie to your loved ones when you want to contact them.

"Your belongings were removed from Martin's apartment before he returned to Warsaw, and should be here on the island tomorrow. Consider the subject of this man now closed; I don't want you having anything to do with him anymore."

I looked at him questioningly.

"In case I wasn't clear the first time, let me say it again: I forbid you from contacting him," he said firmly. "Now, is there anything else?"

I was silent for a moment. He'd thought of every possibility; the story was well planned and made sense.

"And what if I need to visit my family?" I continued. "What then?"

Massimo frowned. "Well, then I guess I'll get to know your beautiful country."

I laughed and sipped my wine. I can already see the newspaper headlines - Head of Sicilian Mafia Appears in Warsaw, I thought to myself.

"Do I have a say in any of this?" I asked inquisitively.

"Unfortunately, this isn't up for discussion; this is how it's going to happen." He leaned toward me. "Laura, you're a smart girl. I would've thought by now that you would've realized one simple truth - I always get what I want."

"Not always, Don Massimo," I responded, dropping my eyes to look at the lace underwear that peeked out from under my dress. I bit my lip and slowly rose from the chair, with Massimo watching intently. I took off my wonderful red-soled heels and headed for the garden.

The grass was moist and the air tasted of sea salt. I knew that he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to follow me for long, and after a few moments he gave in to that temptation. It was peaceful in the garden, with only the lights from the boats swaying in the distant sea to guide me. I stopped when I reached the square couch with canopy that I'd taken a nap on earlier in the day.

"You feel comfortable here, don't you?" Massimo asked, standing next to me, and he was right - I did feel comfortable here. This place didn't feel strange or new to me, and I felt like I'd lived here my entire life. Besides, what girl wouldn't like to stay in a beautiful Italian villa, with all of these comforts and services?

"I'm getting used to it because I have no other choice," I replied, taking another sip of wine. Massimo took the glass from my hand and threw it onto the grass. He took me in his arms and placed me gently on the white pillows. My breath sped up, knowing what was about to happen. He flipped one leg above me and lay on top of me, like this morning. I'd been afraid then, but now all I felt was curiosity and excitement; maybe the alcohol had finally caught up to me, or maybe I'd just accepted the situation I'd found myself in.

Massimo, with his hands on both sides of my head, leaned forward into me. "I'd like to kiss you," he whispered, nudging my lips.

I froze. A man so dangerous and powerful, asking for permission to show me tenderness and love? My hands went to his face and stopped on his cheeks. I held him for a moment, looking deeply into his calm, black eyes, then pulled him to me gently. When our lips met, Massimo attacked me with all of his strength, forcefully and greedily opening my mouth wider and wider, our tongues moving in one rhythm. His body fell over me, arms entangled around my shoulders. We both wanted each other, our lips and tongues massaging each other deeply and passionately.

Once the adrenaline had flowed away and I'd calmed down slightly, I realized what I was doing. "Wait, stop it," I said, pushing him away.

Massimo didn't intend on stopping, though. He grabbed my wrists firmly and pressed them against the white sofa, raising my hands above my head. He removed one hand and started caressing my thigh, following the curve of my body until he came across the lace panties. He grabbed them and took his mouth away from mine.

The pale light from the distant lighthouse illuminated my terrified face. I didn't fight him; there was no chance of winning. I lay there quietly, tears streaming down my cheeks. Upon seeing this, he let go of my hands, threw himself off me and sat down, resting his feet on wet grass.1

"You little..." he whispered heavily. "You know, when your whole life revolves around violence and you've had to fight for everything, it's difficult to react kindly when someone takes away something you desire."

He stood up and ran a hand through his hair while pacing, leaving me lying on my back. I was furious with Massimo, but at the same time, I felt sorry for him. He didn't strike me as one of those men who violently took women and tortured them; this kind of behavior was just natural to him, with a strong touch being as casual as a handshake. He'd also never cared about anyone before, and never needed to consider anyone else's emotions. Now that he wanted someone to reciprocate his feelings, the only way he knew to accomplish that was by force.

A vibration from his pants pulled us from the terrifying silence. Massimo took out his phone, looked at the screen, then answered. While he was talking, I wiped my tears away and stood up from the couch, slowly walking toward the house. I was tired, drunk and completely confused. It took me a minute, but eventually I arrived back at my room and passed out on the bed, completely exhausted.