Natural charmer.

Revelations?

Hello loves, so I was thinking I'd start calling you guys charmers? What do you think? :)... anyway what are your thoughts on the characters so far especially Tahèra, Natalie and Cameron? I would love to hear from you! Enjoy this next part, don't forget to vote! Merry Christmas lovelies!

Ayo_midayyy

xx

"Get up! Lazy spawn of Satan!" opening one eye to the incessant nagging voice of her mother, Tahèra sighed and rolled over.

"Yes mother, can I help you?"

The sharp slap made her shoot upright in the bed. She lifted a hand to her stinging cheek and felt her eyes water from the pain.

Rotating her neck, this way and then that, she took a deep breath, "What have I done this time?"

"What have you not done, you abhorrent, demonic serpent!'

Laughing mirthlessly, Tahèra went to the full length mirror and looked at the darkening bruise.

Well, she must be really angry. She thought, because her mother never hit her face.

"I would be really flattered if woke me up to sing my praises, mother but I do believe you have more evil to perpetrate so please do get on with it."

Looking over her shoulder, she smirked in satisfaction as she saw the shock register in her mother's eyes and began peeling off the dress she had been so drawn to earlier but now despised because of what had happened.

"You are to marry Lord Keith. Lady Graeme and I have finalized all the talks and the contract has been signed. She has taken it with her for final documentation and authentication."

Tahèra froze.

"I am not in the mood for your asinine jokes, mother you know better than anyone else that I cannot get married." She said each word slowly, carefully, even as dread filled her from her toes up to her hairline.

Laughing, her mother eyed Tahèra in utter disgust. "Well after your display of a lack of manners, the duke, for a reason only he can understand, declared he wanted to marry you amidst all the protests from his mother and believe you me, she protested! I do not know what form of sorcery you have conjured but his mind is made."

Truly angry and scared now, Tahèra- as carefully as she could manage, took out a black silk peignoir and slipped it over her luscious, battered frame.

"I do not see why you are so upset mother, there really is no problem. Why fret when you can just kill him off like you did Prince Gayle so we can all get on with our lives?

She caught her mother's incredulous look in the mirror and picked up her hairbrush.

Pure, unadulterated anger ran through her veins but she just pursed her lips and breathed deeply. Running the bristles through her hair, she balanced, legs crossed beneath her on the Persian carpet.

"How dare you!" advancing towards her, Natalie shook visibly with rage. "Let me inform you, young lady. I did not come here for this insulting exchange of words you are so bent on."

Natalie's voice changed, became smug and satisfied. It sent chills down Tahèra's spine as though foretelling something ominous.

"There has been a change in plans. You will marry the duke and you will have to rule over him and take over his life in such a way that we can add not just him but the whole Graeme lineage to our collection!"

Fear spread across Tahèra's back and through her spine like an ice cold blanket.

"Our collection? Our collection? What collection mother? Please do not involve me in your demonic activities!"

The anger in her system roiled around and rushed straight to her brain. Strength surged through her and as she unfolded herself from the floor and flung the brush on the bed, something happened.

Something snapped.

Maybe it was caution or it was reason but the next thing she knew, she grabbed her mother by the neck and wrung the column in an iron death lock.

"I am sick and tired of you controlling my life, acting like I am your goddamned property! If I do not want to marry someone, I will not! You have had your share of my life and I am done! Do you understand me!" she growled in a voice that was not hers, a voice that sounded like legions.

A wicked look crept into her mother's crazed, violet eyes even as her face became white and more strained from the lack of oxygen. She wheezed, "You have grown quite a backbone, dear but I will not punish you for your insolence this time. You will be your own punishment. I honestly hope you will be this courageous when I reveal the horrible thing you did!"

Tahèra felt her hands grow slack as she dropped her mother to the floor in a crumpled heap. An emotion so poignant, so palpable washed over her as her mother's cunning tactic dawned on her.

Blackmail.

Too angry and hurt to express herself in English, Tahèra let out a string of expletives in her native tongue as a guttural groan escaped from deep within her. She felt the emotion pulsating in every part of her body all the way down to her fingertips.

Taking advantage of the rage that seized her, she kicked her mother against the chest of drawers. A demented cackle erupted from the witch like sneer her mouth had molded itself into. "Strike to your heart's content! Your hands are tied!"

She backhanded the crumpled figure and felt the warm blood oozing from her mother's mouth onto her hand as her breathing became heavier and more labored.

She wiped her palm and turned away.

"Promise me, you will marry him, dearest. It is for our ultimate good. Have you forgotten you are a Marijean? We do what we must. I know how it must feel. I faced it too, I know it is difficult."

She turned to see her mother crawling towards her, a fox's cunning smile dancing around her chapped lips.

She could feel her resolve crumpling.

Tahèra ran the heel of her palm across her forehead and swallowed hard. Her secret, the abominable deed she had done! She could not afford for it to be exposed. There would be no turning back if it did.

"I promise" she whispered.

"What did you say? I did not quite hear you." Her mother was obviously enjoying Tahèra's pain.

Schadenfreude, she thought.

Touché.

"I said, I promise" she repeated more forcefully now and felt herself become bound by her word. She never broke a promise and her mother knew it. Damn her!

Crying silently, she recoiled when her mother's hand grasped her ankle and kicked harder than she ever had, so that her mother's head slammed against the heavy, ancient armoire. Satisfied with the sickening crunch she heard, she ran out into the cool night air.