Tom Marvolo Riddle. The most infamous dark wizard of all time. His legendary rise to power as the Dark Lord will forever strike fear in the hearts of those who hear the tale. Still, little is known of Tom's life before his transformation into Voldem...
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Ellison awoke to a throbbing pain in her head. She no longer found herself on the stone path outside her house, but was in a dimly lit room that smelled of mildew. The room was large, with a single light fixture hanging from the ceiling and no furniture other than the chair she had been tied to. She looked around groggily. God her head hurt. The brick walls had no windows. Maybe she was underground ... in a basement maybe? It certainly smelled as though she was. She jerked against her restraints. If she could just reach her wand. She had tucked it safely into the back of her waistband before leaving the house.
"Looking for this?" A voice called from the darkness. Her head snapped forward, eyes darting, trying to place where and from whom the voice had come from. A figure stepped into the florescent glow of the light. It was a man. A tall man, with light brown hair and handsome features. Her eyes moved from the man's face to the object he was twirling between his fingers ... her wand. The man smirked at the realization on her face. "I couldn't have you using it to get loose, now could I?" he said mockingly, sliding the wand into his back pocket.
"Where am I?" She asked, studying the stranger's every movement as he advanced towards her.
"I believe introductions are in order before we get to that, wouldn't you say?" he replied coolly.
"Fine. Who are you?"
"Marcus Relius," he replied, staring down at her. His gaze made her uncomfortable but she willed herself to look back.
"Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"
He smirked, crouching down until they were eye to eye. "I suppose you've heard of Fenrir Grayback?" The glare she had been giving him faltered for a moment, causing his smirk to widen into a malicious grin. "The things he's done don't begin to compare to what I'm capable of." She swallowed, biting back the fear that was growing inside her.
"You know Grayback?" she asked, feigning a calmness she didn't have.
"You could say we have a mutual .... Acquaintance. I believe you know him as well," Marcus replied smoothly.
"And who would that be?"
"Tom Riddle." The words hung in the air, neither saying a word.
"How do you know Tom?" Ellison said finally.
"Same way Grayback does,"
"So you're a werewolf then?" She asked, studying his features for any hint of lycanthropy ... there was none. He chuckled.
"I thought that much was obvious."
"And you have the same business with Tom as Grayback does?"
"Certainly not." He snapped, standing up. "Tom Riddle wishes to use my kind for his own gain. Grayback might've bought into his lies but I know. Tom Riddle cares nothing about us. If he were to have it his way we would all be dead the moment we're of no use to him anymore." He turned to face her, anger marring his handsome features.
"What exactly does your personal vendetta against Tom have to do with me?" Ellison asked.
He studied her for a moment the fury that had danced in his eyes dissipating. He crouched down again, and, reaching forward, brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. She recoiled from his touch. Marcus smirked, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly.
"You know, he told me about you ... Grayback." He began, his smug demeanor returning. "You know what he told me?" She stared back at him, but gave no reply. He leaned in, their noses almost touching. "He said you were a pretty little thing," he whispered. He inhaled deeply, his hot breath exhaling against her ear, sending chills down her spine. "And that you smelled sweeter than anything he had ever had before," he continued against her ear. Her breath hitched in her throat as a knot formed deep in the pit of her stomach. He reached up, brushing her hair away as he pressed his lips against the warm skin of her neck.
"You still haven't told me," she spat out, trying to divert his attention. "You still haven't told me why I'm here." Her words seemed to grab his attention, and he leaned back, their eyes meeting once again.
"You're here as bait, love," he replied matter-of-factly, as if the reason for her being there had been obvious. He smirked at the confused look on her face. "Tom Riddle seems to fancy you ... quite a bit." He reached up, brushing his fingers against her cheek. "It would be a shame if something were to happen to his little pet."
"I'm not his pet!" Ellison spat out, glaring at him. He chuckled, the malicious grin he had worn returning.
"Then why, love," he began, leaning in until their noses were almost touching again, "is his scent all over you?" She looked away, warmth flooding her cheeks. She cursed herself for letting his words embarrass her. "But... I can certainly take care of that, can't I?" He continued, his lips against her ear. She bucked against the chair in protest. He chuckled, smiling wickedly at her. "Eager are we?"
"Not in the slightest," she retorted, glaring at him.
"Don't worry ... we'll have plenty of time for fun," he said, ignoring her remark as he reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. She spat at his face, her eyes narrowing in a glare as he recoiled from the assault. He stood up, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. "You really shouldn't have done that," he said calmly. In the blink of an eye his arm swung back, a loud 'smack' resounding through the room as his hand made contact with her cheek. Her head snapped to the side as heat spread across her face. He crouched down again, grabbing hold of her chin roughly to turn her face towards his. He studied her expression, searching for something, probably fear Ellison guessed, in her eyes. She stared back at him, biting back the tears that stung her eyes. The smirk he had worn while taunting her reappeared as he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. He withdrew it, a bright red substance covering its surface. Blood ... her blood. Bringing it up to his mouth, he pressed it against his lips. Her stomach retched, the knot that had formed within it tightening as he leaned in again. "You taste as good as you smell," he said in a gruff voice, his hot breath against her ear once again sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. He stood up and, with one last smirk, turned and walked out of the room. Ellison squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a choked sob as the door closed behind him, desperate to keep the tears that threatened to spill out at bay.
