Vierva hesitates for a moment before slowly sinking down onto the edge of the plush bed. The mattress is soft and yielding beneath her, a far cry from the hard, thin pallets she's used to sleeping on. She sits there stiffly, her back straight and her hands folded primly in her lap, as if unsure how to relax in such opulent surroundings.
This is all so new, so overwhelming, she thinks to herself, her eyes wide as she looks around the room. Is this really where I'm going to live now? With him?
She shivers slightly as she recalls Dante's intense gaze, the way his eyes had darkened with a hunger she didn't quite understand. She's not naive - she knows what that look means, has seen it in the eyes of the men who used to own her. But with Dante, it feels different. More intense, more...possessive.
He wants me, she realizes, a flicker of surprise passing through her. He wants to keep me, to make me...his.
The thought sends a confusing mix of emotions rushing through her. Fear, certainly - she's not sure she's ready for that kind of intimacy, that level of ownership. But also a strange, traitorous thrill. No one has ever wanted her for herself, has ever seen the real her beneath the broken shell.
Except him, she thinks, her heart skipping a beat. He saw me, the real me. And he still...wanted me.
She shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Don't be foolish, she scolds herself. He doesn't want you, not really. He just wants to use you, like all the rest.
And yet, as she sits there, surrounded by the luxury and opulence of the room, she can't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this time could be different. That maybe, with Dante, she could find a way to heal, to become the person she was always meant to be.
Only time will tell, she thinks with a sigh, settling back against the plush pillows. Only time will tell what he really wants from me.
Vierva's eyes narrow as she sits on the bed, a new determination setting in her jaw. She's been broken before, shattered and remade into something less than human. She won't allow that to happen again, no matter who tries to control her.
He may want to help me, to guide me, she thinks to herself, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. But I won't be a puppet on a string, dancing to someone else's tune.
She knows the dangers of trusting too easily, of letting someone get too close. It always ends the same way - with pain, with betrayal, with a shattered heart and a broken spirit. She won't give Dante that power over her, no matter how charming he may seem.
If he tries to hurt me, to betray me... she thinks, a dark resolve hardening in her eyes. If he goes against me, I will make him pay. I will find a way to make him regret ever laying a hand on me.
She's not the helpless creature she once was. She's fought too hard, come too far, to let herself be broken again. She's learned to be strong, to be fierce, to defend herself against those who would seek to control her.
He may own my body, may have bought my freedom, she vows silently. But he will never own my heart, my mind, my soul. Those belong to me, and me alone.
With that thought, she lies back on the bed, closing her eyes as she tries to will herself to rest. She needs to be at her strongest, her sharpest, if she's going to navigate this new world and the dangerous temptation that Dante represents.
Sleep now, she tells herself, her voice hard and resolute in her mind. Rest now. You'll need your strength for what's to come.
And with that, she allows herself to drift off, her dreams filled with visions of a future where she is the one in control, the one holding the power. A future where she is the mistress of her own destiny, and no one, not even Dante, can take that from her.