Talia and Isaac

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Talia and Isaac Page 11

by Lorraine Margaret


  He stalked towards her, and her head spun violently, the blue room shaking and blurring as her vision darkened. This could be their end before they had even begun, the death of their fragile connection. She held her breath and stared into his glittering eyes, transfixed by the dark desire that obliterated all tender feeling. He pressed his thumb against her mouth and it opened instinctively, welcoming his intrusion. Her sex throbbed and her inner muscles tightened in response. This was madness, the corruption of a pure Lokian visionary. Her heart galloped in her chest, her breath catching as she closed her mouth around him, sucking hard. She knew what he wanted. His eyes were dark, shining with twisted yearning, his breath coming hard and fast. Their shared spiritual energy had mutated to become something new and terrifying, crackling with violence and fury and lust and despair…

  Such darkness lay between them now, a black void consuming all that was good and pure, leaving them blind and helpless, unable to find their way back to the light.

  This was wrong, so very wrong, a travesty, a perversion of desire that would lead them down a treacherous, ever darkening path they would never escape. Yet still she sucked, compelled by the intense, haunted passion in Isaac’s eyes. She searched and searched and searched again, valiant in her quest to find the spectacular something but it ignored her entreaties and remained submerged in the roiling maelstrom of Isaac’s dark desires.

  He penetrated her mouth with his forefinger next, stretching her lips wide, forcing them to accept its entry. She met his dark glare boldly, defiant to the end. She would not be cowed. As she sucked hard on his thumb and forefinger, Isaac shuddered and grunted, breaking the warped peace of the blue room. He thrust deep into her throat and she gagged noisily but tightened her lips around him. This was a battle she would not lose. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead as he gritted his teeth, silently daring her to continue. And so she did. She would never surrender. Never. He thrust, she sucked, eyes locked together in an age-old battle that could never be won. He growled, a sound of animalistic fury, and pulled free of her mouth so violently it left her gasping for air. His dark eyes narrowed, ferocious and malevolent, cursing her existence on this mortal earth.

  And he turned and left the blue room without a backward glance.

  The door slammed.

  The key turned in the lock.

  Isaac’s footsteps carried him away, and there was nothing in the blue room but Talia. Naked, unadorned, with not even water to drink. She had been stripped of everything except herself, but she had not allowed Isaac to break her. She was not his sex toy or his slave. She was Talia – and that was everything.

  ***********

  He kept replaying their conversation in his mind, obsessing over every little word that had contributed to the collapse of the bond he had forged with Talia. How had it happened? How had he allowed it to happen? How had he been so stupid? He shook his head as he paced around his room, trapped in a surreal, all-consuming world consisting only of Talia. He was not stupid. She was the stupid one. He had warned her, explained her training would be demanding and difficult. He had done nothing wrong, had behaved according to the rules of the game. His game… Talia didn’t know all the rules, but she had disobeyed the ones she did know. She deserved her punishment. He had been far too lenient, swayed by the beauty of her mesmerising turquoise eyes, but she would have plenty of time to examine her behaviour and realise the error of her ways. Why was it so very hard for her to realise she was not a Lokian visionary anymore? She belonged to him now and would do as she was told. He had honoured her with kindness and respect – his captive and slave! She was the most ungrateful, insubordinate woman he had ever met. He paced faster and faster, working hard to convince himself of his moral superiority. He was a good man, a kind man, who felt true tenderness for Talia and had openly expressed it… but then he had become a monster again.

  Fuck!

  He slowed almost to a standstill as he examined the evidence one more time. He had been so resolute about adhering rigidly to the rules of the game that he had made no allowance for Talia’s spiritual nature. He had thought only of himself, his control of events… and his frighteningly tenuous grip on his emotions. Talia’s power was irritating, he felt too much for her. He was unused to feeling such intense connection with a woman, but surely it shouldn’t make him feel impotent? Surely tenderness shouldn’t be a disempowering and frightening thing? He sighed. He knew the truth. Tenderness was not disempowering or frightening, only to him. The strength of his feelings for Talia terrified him and he had allowed his ego and pride to rule him at a time when he must bravely face his greatest challenge yet.

  Talia had walked into the blue room, her body exposed in her transparent gown, her feminine vulnerability laid bare. Her enormous, questioning eyes had pleaded for mercy, for compassion and understanding – and his first words to her? Take off your clothes. A cold, expressionless order hiding his fear behind dominance and power. She had searched his eyes for tenderness but he had stubbornly hidden it away, locked in the blue room in his mind, keeping from his destiny the one thing that should be shown to her above all others.

  Idiot king.

  He stood motionless in the centre of the bedroom, transfixed by his limitless capacity for stupidity. He had punished Talia for a moment’s hesitation in obeying his barked orders, a cold, unyielding man. He had never hated himself as he did now. It had been cowardly to hide his vulnerability; a courageous man would accept and embrace his emotions, not punish others because of his inadequacy and fear. His behaviour was inexcusable, made even worse because he had not just punished other people. He had punished Talia, magnificent Talia, who despite his cruelty had refused to be cowed and demanded her right to be treated as a person. No one else but Talia would dare demand anything from him! A king was unused to being challenged yet this tiny captive visionary had dared to confront him.

  He adored it.

  He caught his breath, his head swimming, heart pounding in his chest. This life-changing revelation explained everything. Talia’s defiance aroused him. After her rebellious outburst, he had experienced an overwhelming compulsion to claim her imperious little mouth. He had thrust his thumb inside it wishing it was his stiff and throbbing cock.

  Talia had stripped him of power; the one person he needed to obey him had reduced him to an inadequate fool. He had been driven by the need to own her, bend her to his will. Win the battle roaring between them. It had taken all of his strength to walk away and leave her in the blue room, resist subjecting her to a violent, dubiously consensual act…

  He wanted to force her to suck his cock.

  But he had resisted, had put Talia’s feelings above his own savage needs. And now he saw the truth. Talia was his match, his equal, and that was how it should be. How could he ever have found his destiny with a woman less than him? He needed a strong, intelligent lover and had found one in her. And in that twisted moment he had yearned to claim her mouth because he revered every single word that came out of it.

  But he was fooling himself. Talia was not his equal, she was his superior. That was the real issue here.

  He could wrap his game up in words like trust and self-discovery but she saw right through him. She would not be negated or controlled, she would fight for the right to be herself, and that was thrilling. He adored it. He didn’t want to change her, he wanted to bind her to him for all time.

  He had fucked that up.

  The expression in her turquoise eyes as he left her in the blue room… his heart ached at the memory of her desolation and despair. He had to put this right. Talia was vulnerable, would only fight for herself, he would have to fight for both of them.

  Fight for their future…

  He had to go back to the blue room and do things differently. Compromise the rigid rules of his beloved game in order to win Talia’s trust… relax them just a little, allow a little of his tenderness to leave the blue room of his mind and be in the blue room with her.

  She was
worth it. She had transformed his life in one magical night.

  He sucked in a cleansing lungful of air and strode purposefully towards his destiny.

  ***********

  She was not feeling so positive about retaining her identity now. She walked aimlessly around the blue room, repeating, “Talia, Talia,” like a mantra, her name becoming the focus for her continued independence. She was Talia, Lokian visionary. She would not be taken over by King Isaac, would not allow her captor to consume her soul. But her empowerment was fading fast for how long could it last without water to sustain her physical body? Her words of bravado were about to be proved correct. Talia would die in the blue room, alone and unloved. She would still have herself, her spiritual integrity intact, but would no longer exist in the mortal world.

  She had no concept of time anymore. The windowless room made it impossible to gauge darkness or light, she was shrouded in an eerie netherworld where nothing tangible existed. But Talia existed – for now. Her mind was racing so fast it could have been one hour or six since Isaac abandoned her. What did it matter anyway? He had lied to her. He had told her it was his responsibility to ensure her wellbeing, ensure she was fed and watered and warm at all times. He was doing none of those things.

  Maybe night was falling. Maybe that was why she was so very tired. Or maybe she was exhausted due to her constant pacing and lack of food. She was shivering despite her movement. Poor naked Talia, alone in the blue room, the room in which she had refused to accept the death of her soul. She still had herself. She still had Talia. She had to keep reminding herself of that.

  She curled into a tiny ball on the bed, refusing to cover her freezing body with the blankets. She would be a martyr to the end. Isaac wanted her to suffer and she would give him what he wanted, if she died he would be sorry – maybe. She would die surrounded by her spiritual colour, her transcendental tool. Talia, Lokian visionary, had retained her pure, spiritual nature and would die victorious in the blue room. She wouldn’t chastise herself for her behaviour with Isaac, for enthusiastically embracing intimacy with a man she barely knew. There had been rare beauty and magic in their connection last night. Isaac was the loser here, not her. Her body would die but Isaac had lost for he had no conception of love or beauty. He understood nothing. He would die a spiritually desolate man despite his riches and power. He had felt their shared spiritual energy as surely as she had but refused to honour it. His body would die many years after hers but he was already spiritually dead.

  She was so cold, so thirsty, yet her heart was overflowing with peace. She had never been so noble, so sure of the integrity of her spirit. She was a Lokian visionary through and through, blooming spiritually as her body suffered and withered away. The irony was bittersweet. This king who wanted to control and destroy her had given her the greatest gift of all. She was at peace for she knew exactly who she was. Isaac didn’t know who he was, he was lost. His eyes held such promise of love and tenderness, but his soul was empty and cold. She couldn’t believe her intuition had failed her so badly, had been so wrong about him. Isaac had traumatised her, reduced her powers to a jumbled mess. But he had not won. She was still Talia.

  Her throat was coated with grit, so dry and rough she could hardly swallow. She fantasised about cold water trickling down over it, soothing the irritated membranes. To distract herself from her discomfort, she replayed the events of last night in her mind, shuddering as she recalled the warmth of Isaac’s body, the softness of the spectacular something in his eyes. Last night hope for the future had burned brightly in her heart – but now it was banished forever.

  She was alone and unloved, bereft of everything except Talia. Was she really such a prize? Was it worth forsaking her connection with Isaac in order to retain herself? Or was she a proud and foolish woman unable to embrace a new way of life?

  She was cocooned in the blue room, separate from the mortal world, existing in a universe of her own. It was always meant to be this way. This was her destiny, not Isaac. She would die in the blue room, transform into an ethereal being and transcend earthly suffering by becoming part of the blue. She would be absorbed into its majesty and splendour, a creature of love and light…

  “Talia?”

  Talia. Talia. Her angel hawk flew alongside her as the spirits of her ancestors called, begging her to join them in the spirit realms and it was all she wanted to do.

  “Talia?”

  An angel was calling her, warming her naked body with the concern and compassion in his voice. He said her name with such tenderness and love… the unconditional love of angels…

  “Talia, come back to me, please.”

  She had heard the voice before. An angel… or a devil masquerading as an angel… promising pure love, taking her to heaven and then leaving her alone in hell.

  “Talia, please, my sweet, come back to me, please.”

  The angel was warming her naked body with his body, not only with his words. Sweet angel… sweet demon masquerading as an angel…

  “I will stay here forever, stay in the blue room.”

  “Talia?”

  “I am safe in the blue room.”

  “That’s right, my sweet, you are. You are always safe here with me. I want you to remember that. I know you can hear me and will remember everything I say when you return. Let my words embed in your unconscious mind, Talia, trust me. You are always safe in this room with me.”

  “Safe room.”

  “Safe room, Talia, that’s right. This is our safe room, yours and mine. Now, look at me, you need to drink.”

  “You’re a demon but you were my angel last night.”

  Somewhere in her place of light she heard a stifled groan.

  “Please, Talia, come out of your trance and look at me. Come back to me.”

  “Blue room. Colour of everything spiritual… and your beautiful demon eyes. Blue eyes. Blue room.”

  She was flying in the spirit realms with her angel hawk and her muddled yet contented mind. The angel brought her peace, his pure love radiating into her soul. There was such warmth in his body and voice, such tenderness in his gentle arms. He asked nothing of her, simply gave the comfort and reassurance she needed. The angel was silent now but breathing heavily.

  “Blue is the colour of infinite possibilities, of joys waiting to be discovered. It opens our eyes to a new life, a new world. Come back, Talia, and join me in our new world.”

  “I’ll stay in the spirit realms with my angel, thank you very much.”

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, unwilling to confront the truth. It could never be as exquisite as this. Her angel hawk soared above as the angel blessed her with pure, unconditional love. He would never hurt her…

  “No, Talia. You will do as your master tells you and you will come back. Now!”

  The sudden arrogance in the angel’s voice loosened her tenuous grip on the spirit realms, forcing her to focus on the mortal world instead. An angel would not speak to her like that. An angel… Isaac. It was Isaac. She was in the blue room with Isaac, not in the spirit realms… or was she? Was this Isaac or an angel? Or both? Was the blue room in the spirit realms? No. She shook her head at her stupidity, this was reality. This was Isaac and his rules. She was no longer in her blessed trance, she had returned to the trauma and confusion of the unknown between them, returned to her earthly suffering and torment. She was in the arms of a man who wanted to own her, enslave her to his will, a man who had promised so very much only to turn into a demon intent on the destruction of her soul. Yet her time in the spirit realms had strengthened her resolve and nourished her soul. She could fight again now, fight for the continued existence of Talia for she was a Lokian visionary and worth fighting for.

  She scowled into Isaac’s intense blue eyes and he scowled back yet his eyes remained as soft as butter.

  “Drink, Talia. And then we will begin your training.”

  His voice was gentle but unyielding. She could hear all his years as king in the firmness un
derlying it. He would never stop. She would never win. His eyes were kind but dominant, his tone tender but assured. He would persevere. He was intent on one thing only, making her his slave. If she fought him this scene would be repeated time and time again… unless…

  “I will not do anything I don’t want to do, Your Majesty. You will have to force me.”

  His beautiful mouth curled into a twisted smile – of anger or amusement she could not tell. It disturbed her. Isaac was impenetrable, a man in supreme control of himself and all others – including her. He wielded absolute power and was skilled at doing so. He would give nothing away, would allow no glimpse of the man beneath the mask… not now. Last night was over, its beauty never to be repeated.

  But one thing gave her hope.

  The spectacular something was the only thing Isaac could not govern, and it was lurking at the back of his eyes. He was ruthlessly exerting his power and authority, oblivious of its existence. He didn’t know it was there, but she did. Talia was triumphant.

  “No, Talia. I will never force you to do anything, I have already told you that time and time again. Your master is concerned for your wellbeing and it would be cruel of you to continue to worry him. I will be very pleased with you if you drink, Talia, and will always reward you for good behaviour. Please drink.”

  He was talking to her as if she was a stupid child but he was holding the flask from last night. Last night – that convinced her. She grabbed at the flask.

  “No, Talia.”

  He held the flask to her mouth as he had last night and she stared into his eyes as she suckled like a baby. The longer she drank, the brighter the spectacular something became. So she drank and drank and drank, draining the flask completely.

 

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