Proserpina
It was a long time before I found the strength to open my eyes slowly, feeling drained and listless.
The sound of someone moving around in the room forced me to come awake and I groaned, as I came awake, slowly, unwillingly.
My body ached and it took me a while to recognize where I was.
The terrifying room with the threatening-looking implements, the rich red drapes, an ominous atmosphere all around where I had been raped by the man who had declared publicly that I was the mother of his children and his future wife.
Sitting up slowly, I looked at my poor body. The full breasts with bite marks from Lucien's aggressiveness; my womanhood felt tender and sore, for it ached and the muscles in my a*se were tender. I winced and cried out softly as I moved and swung my legs off the bed slowly. I had bled sometime during his punishing assault, I realised dully for my thighs bore tell-tale marks of dried blood.
Slipping off the bed, I made to stand but my legs felt as though they would give way beneath me. Clutching the sides of the large four-poster bed we had spent the night in, I sat back down heavily, lowering my head with the effort I had made. It was not just the physical hurt, it was the mental agony. the bed itself had been hidden cleverly by large silk drapes and I had no recollection of getting there. But the pain, intense and sharp, reminded me of the night.
Once again, Lucien had succeeded in shattering me emotionally.
And I still loved him.
That made me want to weep.
All of a sudden, I became aware that I was not alone and snatching up my damaged gown to cover myself, I turned, pushing the strands of long tangled hair away from my face defensively.
Lucien stood watching me, his gray gaze narrowed and shuttered.
Looking fresh and clean from a shower, dressed in a white shirt and formal pants and jacket, he looked so much in charge of himself; so distant from the cold, cruel stranger who had attached pointed clamps to my aching nipples, who had used my body in every way he pleased. Who had tied my wrists to the bedpost as he forced himself into me, again and again...
And I? I lowered my head in shame and disgust, hating myself; at one point, I had actually welcomed his abuse.
I avoided his eyes, hating him for what he had done, hating him for the reaction he had coaxed from my traitorous body, so effortlessly. Every part of me ached or felt sore. I wanted to weep with humiliation for how I had been used.
By the man I loved.
***
"We're leaving in an hour," said Lucien in a cool voice, turning away almost indifferently from the huge bed with the handcuffs dangling from the posts, where we had spent the night.
And as I continued to glower at him in silence, he went on, as distantly as one who was discussing the weather,
"We are going to the magistrate."
He jerked his chin to indicate as he went on, 'There's a washroom over there.'
And then as he adjusted his shirt, his cold eyes meeting mine in the mirror, he growled,
'Daniella will be here with some clothes for you.'
I sat up slowly, covering myself as best as I could with the wretched gown which was crushed beyond recognition. Lucien's eyes flickered over my body and I thought I saw his lips twist. In derision? With mockery?
A slow-burning rage built up in me.
"Why?" I asked dully, pushing my hair back, my voice low and quivering with hurt, with anger, "Why are we going to a magistrate?'.
"We're getting married," he replied tightly, adjusting his shirt, shoving the gun he always carried, into his waistband.
He did not meet my incredulous eyes in the mirror.
I stared at him with a mixture of hate and fury, struggling to stand without swaying.
Clutching the bedpost for support, I gasped as the pain in my lower body intensified. But I was not about to give in without a fight.
"You FILTHY BRUTE! Don't you understand? I don't want to marry you."
And then, I screamed, fiercely,
"I HATE YOU, LUCIEN DELANO, I HATE YOU!"
I said my voice trembling in anger. He looked up and his cold expression was frightening but I could not care. He had already hurt me more than I could bear.
Glaring at him, I spat, 'You DISGUST ME, Lucien Delano. I LOATHE you.'
Sinking to the bed, unashamedly weeping now, I whispered,
"And I wish I had never met you."
He watched me for some time, his countenance still and expressionless. even after a long night of forcing himself upon me, the man continued to look virile and magnetic, totally in command of himself. Whilst i knew that I must be looking like last night's dinner, my hair all over the place, my eyes puffy from weepy, the red bruises on my neck and breasts...
The hands fastening his shirt stilled for a second. The cold grey eyes wandered over my body and I stiffened.
He seemed to be evaluating the damage, thought hysterically and I tilted my chin and glared at him, eyes shining with unshed tears.nd then, picking up his jacket, he strode out, throwing the words at me over his shoulder, as he stopped at the door,
"You'll do as I say," he commanded quietly, and turning, he met my eyes as he went on flatly, "for your children."
I stared at him, my revulsion in my eyes.
Comprehension dawned on me; he would use my children as bait. To torture me as long as he pleased.
The hard mask-like countenance tightened cruelly as he growled,
'Either you do as you are told, little girl, or you will never see them again, little one,' he said softly and I blinked, my heart pounding.
As the true extent of the utter helplessness of my situation struck me, I bowed my head, eyes filling as the bitter truth hit me;
Lucien Delano held all the cards.