A Little Less Sixteen Candles... Continued

Turning Point

Beckett pushed the door to his bedroom open with such ferocity that it slammed into the wall with a resounding crack; the doorknob embedding itself in one of the decorative wooden panels covering the walls. Andrea spun around to face him.

As Beckett had left, she had heard the very clear sound of a key turning in the lock. Frustrated and angry at being held against her will, she tried as hard as she could but had been unable to force the door or even pick the lock with makeshift tools found in the room. Also, to her surprise, despite the room having heavy velvet drapes hanging beautifully at regular intervals, all she found behind them was yet another part of the wall. It became apparent to her that some time ago, probably long ago, Beckett's windows had been bricked up to avoid the risk of allowing any light in at all. But his sense of aesthetics demanded that curtains should adorn the spaces where windows had once stood. Andrea was trapped in this grandly decorated bedroom awaiting the return of the leader of this band of monsters. And now he had returned and his anger was beyond comprehension. As he laid eyes on the pretty and frightened brunette, something inside him stirred. It was malice. Yes, he could use her. Calming rapidly, Beckett offered a smooth, easy smile.

"Are you comfortable, my dear?" he asked, throwing her off balance by the rapid change in his demeanour.

Perhaps she was simply too scared. Perhaps she had seen or taken enough?

"No!" she snapped with contempt. "You've taken my friends and kept me prisoner in here! Exactly how am I supposed to be comfortable with that?"

Beckett examined his fingernails casually as she stood in front of him. In his peripheral vision, he could see her looking past him towards the now open door. It amused him to think that she actually entertained the idea that she could beat him to it.

"Your friends?" He asked casually. "Are you sure about that?"
"Well," she shrugged, caught off guard by the question. "I know two of them now."

Beckett knew her reasons for being there; he had read it in her thoughts. An entirely different indication was the sudden heat from her body at the mention of the two hunters that she already knew. She had feelings for one of them, Beckett noticed, possibly both of them. He had to know which if he were to use the information to his advantage.

"But don't you know that they've escaped?" He paused for effect. "Leaving you here, knowing that I have you."
Andrea took a step back and shook her head. "I don't believe you."
"Oh, but you should, I can prove it, if you prefer," Beckett took a few steps closer. "Why do you think I was so angry on my return?"
"No... he... they wouldn't leave me here with you. You're lying."
"I doubt if Peter would even remember you anyway, it was a long time ago."
"Pete?" she queried.

Beckett smirked, silently thanking her for the information.

"Ah, I'm sorry, you mean Joe wouldn't leave you here? You have feelings for him?" Beckett grinned, flashing his sharp fangs. "I wonder if the feeling is mutual? I wonder what he'd be prepared to give up to save your life?"

Andrea's eyes widened as she stepped back away from him, but he was too fast. Circling his right arm around her waist, he pulled her close enough to feel the rhythm of her heart beating against his silent chest. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, he caressed her cheek; all the while she tried to squirm out of his grip. His hand moved back to her hair, smoothing the soft curls back into position before snatching a handful of it and pulling at the roots.

"Let me explain something to you," he began menacingly as he softened his grip on her hair before stroking it once more. "You're mine, and only mine. You will remain here as my companion, under my protection; no one else will dare touch you. But remember this, you're like a beautiful but fragile porcelain ornament – if I drop you, you will break."