“Say you will obey me.” He was dressed now, elegant as always. His mind was no longer completely on her; he was tuned to the vibrations in the air, to each note the wolves sang to him.
Savannah knew she was screaming—her entire body was screaming—but no sound emerged. Her body was no longer hers to command. Her mind was screaming in outrage, but Gregori controlled her ability to send out a cry for help.
Stop fighting me. His voice was a soft growl in her mind.
Release me. Her heart was pounding so loud, she was afraid she might explode. This couldn’t be happening. Mere moments ago Gregori had been lying with her, holding her in protective arms, gently making love to her. Or so she had thought. But what did she know about making love? Gregori could make anyone feel anything. He didn’t need to feel anything for her to make her believe he did. How could he take her body so gently, then turn around like an unfeeling monster and destroy her free will, control her as if she was nothing more than a puppet to him? What kind of person would do such a thing?
Savannah, you will stop fighting me now. We are in danger. You will obey me if you wish to take back control of yourself.
I know my own mother. You don’t want anyone else around me; that’s why you won’t allow me to acknowledge her, she accused him.
So be it. It is your choice. His voice was as unruffled as always. Nothing seemed to disturb Gregori. Not her hostility, not her confusion and disillusionment.
Her body jerked into a sitting position; then she was standing helplessly beside the bed, naked, totally vulnerable, unable to speak or move. Her head was throbbing as she tried desperately to fight his control of her. She would not submit her mind to his will, not voluntarily. He might have her body, but he could fight her to the death for possession of her mind.
Mocking laughter echoed in her head. Fight me all you want, bébé. You are only hurting yourself. You will obey me, Savannah.
Despair welled up in her. It was true. She was helpless against his superior power and strength. She hated him for making her so aware of it, for forcing her to see that no matter how much she tried to be herself, to maintain a semblance of pride and dignity, she was stripped to nothing by a mere thought in his head. Shards of glass seemed to be piercing her head. The more she resisted, the worse the pain.
A cotton shirt and jeans suddenly covered her body. Soft leather shoes wrapped themselves around her feet. Gregori braided her hair swiftly, efficiently. She detested the easy, competent way in which he did everything. One last chance, Savannah. Do you obey me? He leaned over her, his harsh yet sensual features impassive, an unreadable mask. His pale eyes were ice cold. He meant every word he said, and it was obvious he didn’t care which choice she made. There was no give in him, no gentleness, no remorse.
Inwardly, Savannah shuddered. She was locked to this merciless man for all eternity. There had to be some way to undo the ritual. Even death was better than mindless slavery. She swallowed her pride, unable to stand the leaden weight of her body and mind, unable to allow him such complete control. I’ll obey. She didn’t look at him; she couldn’t.
He relinquished control slowly, watching her closely, his mind still in hers. Savannah stood before him, trembling with suppressed anger. Trembling with humiliation and lost dreams. She brought up her closed fist until it was level with his chest, then opened her palm to reveal the three teardrop diamonds. Deliberately she turned her hand over, allowing the gems to fall to the floor and scatter. She didn’t look at his face or at the diamonds on the floor, now symbolizing her disposal of their relationship. Staring straight ahead, she awaited his instructions.
“Are you able to shape-shift?” His voice was low and smooth and calm. She hated him for that.
“You know I can’t.”