Victor's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze burning with intensity. He took a step closer, his movements fluid and deliberate, his presence commanding the space around him. My heart raced, anticipation mingling with fear as I felt the air thicken with tension. The restraints around my wrists and ankles seemed to tighten, a harsh reminder of my captivity.
"You're still beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion, his words dripping with sincerity. "Still mine." The phrase sent shivers down my spine, evoking memories of our past, of the love we once shared. His eyes roamed over my face, drinking in every detail, every curve and contour.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the contours of my face, his touch sending sparks of electricity through my skin. I flinched, but he didn't withdraw. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a gentle, almost tender kiss. The kiss was a whispered promise, a reminder of what once was, of what could never be again.
But it was a lie. A cruel, heartless lie. I knew it, and yet, a part of me responded to the familiarity of his touch, the comfort of his presence. I didn't pull away, neither did I fall into the kiss. I was frozen, trapped in a web of conflicting emotions, torn between the past and the present.
Victor pulled back, his eyes searching mine, seeking answers to unspoken questions. "I missed you," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. The words were a blow, striking at the very heart of me.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I was supposed to be strong, to repel him, but his words cracked the facade, exposing the vulnerability beneath. I felt myself breaking down, the walls I'd built around my heart crumbling under the weight of his words.
"Liar," I spat, my voice trembling, the word torn from my lips. "You killed me. You left me to rot." The accusation hung in the air, a stark reminder of his betrayal.
Victor's expression didn't change. He didn't flinch. Instead, he regarded me with a calm, almost detached air, as if observing a specimen under a microscope.
"I had to," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, the words dropping like a stone into a still pond.
"Why?" I demanded, tears streaming down my face, my voice rising to a crescendo. "Why did you kill me if you loved me?" The question echoed through the room, a haunting refrain.
Victor's gaze never wavered. "I had to," he repeated, his voice firm, unyielding.
The simplicity of his answer enraged me. "That's not enough," I screamed, the words tearing from my throat. "You owe me more than that."
Victor's eyes flashed with something - regret, perhaps, or sorrow. But it was fleeting, lost in the depths of his gaze.
"I did what I had to do," he said, his voice firm, unapologetic.
The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of his ruthlessness, his capacity for cruelty.
"You're a monster," I spat, the words venomous.
Victor's smile was a slow, cruel curve of his lips. "I'm what you made me," he said, the accusation stinging.
The memories flooded back, memories of our life together, of the love we shared, of the choices we made.
"No," I denied, the word torn from my lips.
But Victor's gaze never wavered.
"You loved me once," he whispered. "You loved me enough to change me."
I struggled against the grip of Victor's men, but it was futile. They held me firm, their hands like vice grips around my arms and shoulders, their fingers digging deep into my skin. Victor's eyes never left mine, his gaze burning with intensity, his pupils gleaming with a knowing light.
"You can't escape," he whispered, his breath caressing my skin, sending shivers down my spine. "You can't fight it." His voice was low and husky, dripping with confidence, and I felt my resolve weakening.
His finger trailed along my cheek, sending sparks of electricity through my body. I tried to resist, but my body seemed to relax into his touch, betraying my mind's resolve. It was as if my very cells responded to Victor's presence, yearning for more.
"No," I muttered, trying to shake off the sensation. But it was too late. Victor's touch had awakened something deep within me, something I couldn't ignore.
Victor's smile grew wider, his lips curling upward in a cruel arc. "Your body remembers," he said. "It remembers who owns it." The words hung in the air, a challenge, a promise.
I tensed, outrage coursing through my veins. "You don't own me," I spat, trying to keep my voice steady. But Victor's gaze never wavered.
"Oh, but I do," he said. "And your body knows it." His eyes seemed to bore into my soul, searching for the truth.
Out of anger, I tried to bite him with my fangs, but he pulled away just in time. His eyes flashed with amusement.
"Temper, temper," he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
But then he came back, his fingers tracing the curve of my fangs. The touch sent shivers down my spine.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.
Victor's eyes locked onto mine. "I'm reminding you," he whispered. "Reminding you of what we once had." His voice was low and husky, dripping with emotion.
Reminding me of what? Of us? Of our past? The memories flooded back.
His touch sent sparks through my body, and I felt myself craving more. No, no, no. Why was my body responding like this?
"Why are you doing this?" I asked.
Victor's smile was enigmatic. "Because you're mine," he said. "You've always been mine." The words echoed through my mind.
Was it true? Was I still his? No. I couldn't be. I wouldn't be.
But my body seemed to have other plans. It was as if my very cells responded to Victor's touch.
"You're mine," Victor repeated.
The words hung in the air, a challenge, a promise.
I shook my head. "I'm not yours." But my voice lacked conviction.
Victor's eyes locked onto mine. "You don't mean that," he said. "Your body doesn't mean that." His gaze seemed to bore into my soul.
And with that, he claimed my lips in a kiss. A kiss that left me breathless. A kiss that left me wanting more.