The silence in the office was heavy and oppressive. Elena felt herself blushing under the scrutinizing gaze of the two most powerful men in the room: Damien, who possessed those cool, unreadable, golden eyes and was a master of control, and Marcus, who stared unblinking and disturbing.
She stood her ground, fists clenched at her sides. She had come here for a reason, and she would not be intimidated into retreating back to her beautiful suite.
"I'm interrupting," she said, her voice unbroken and firm - a declaration rather than an apology. She held his gaze. "We need to talk. Now."
He had looked at him and a question was asked in silence. Damien gave almost imperceptive affirmation through a nod. He then inclined his head towards Elena, "Ms Carter," he said in a calm, respectful baritone. Then he turned and strolled without noise out of the room, closing after him the heavy office door and leaving her alone with the master of the tower.
"You are rebellious," Damien said in isolation, but not angrily. "It is one of your more compelling qualities."
"I'm not here for compliments," she snapped, stepping further into the room. "I'm here for answers. You said you were in my dream. I want you to explain that. No more cryptic nonsense, no more half-truths. Tell me what is going on."
He shoved his body down from the desk and began walking slowly toward her. "The truth is not a simple thing, Elena," he continued. "It is a concept with layers, and you are not ready to peel them all back."
"Try me," she challenged, her heart hammering but her resolve firm. "Because the alternative is me going insane in that… that room you've put me in, trying to figure out if my own mind is lying to me. So, talk."
He stopped a few feet from her. She could feel the now-familiar energy radiating from him, a hum of power that made the air feel thick.
"My family is different," he began, voice low and serious. "We descend from a bloodline that is far older than what your histories would know. We have certain sensitivities, certain abilities that the modern world has dismissed as myth and legend. The connection between us that I told you about is the rarest and most powerful of these."
It sounded like the most eloquent, well-rehearsed fantasy she had ever heard. It was insane. It was also the only thing that had come close to explaining the impossible events of the last two days.
"So, you're a psychic?" she asked, her tone dripping with skepticism. "You can read my thoughts? Project yourself into my dreams?"
"It is not so crude as that," he said, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. "It is not a skill I can teach, it is an instinct I follow. I am connected to you. That is the only truth you need for now."
"Not enough," she maintained, shaking her head. "I'm not buying it."
His expression hardened. "No?" he asked quietly. The air turned heavy. "Right now, you are thinking about the conversation with your mother yesterday. You are remembering her telling you that she just wants you to be happy, and you are feeling a fresh wave of guilt. You are wondering how they are explaining your absence to her this morning, and you're terrified that she is worried."
Elena froze, blood draining out of her face. Every word was true, a precise and brutal vivisection of her most private thoughts. The skepticism in her evaporated, replaced by a profound and terrifying awe.
He had not raised his voice. He had not moved a muscle. But he had just demonstrated a power that defied every law of nature she knew.
He had taken a final step toward her and was murmuring low and seductively, "You are therefore not a prisoner: this is why I am paying you so much attention. In this world, which you're nowhere near able to fathom, there are dangers attracted to power like ours. The only safe place for you is here. With me."
He'd gone again. He distorted her demand for answers into yet another reason for her captivity, another assurance for what could be his control. She had asked for the truth of being armed for him- to tell him the truth would be to fight him with it; only to realize that it had disarmed her completely, leaving her more trapped, and more afraid, than ever before.