"So you want to help me?" she asks.
Dante's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile at Vierva's question. He can sense the cautious hope in her voice, the tentative way she's starting to let herself believe that he might not have ill intentions. It's a start, at least.
She's like a skittish colt, he thinks to himself, amused by her wariness. Eager to trust, but afraid to be hurt again.
"Yes, I want to help you," he confirms, his voice a low, soothing rumble. His thumb continues to stroke her chin, his fingers curling around the side of her face. "I saw the way they tried to break you, to mold you into something you're not. I couldn't allow that to continue."
I had to save you, to claim you for myself, he adds silently, his eyes glinting with a dark, possessive light. To make you mine, in every way possible.
"But I won't force you to be anything, Vierva," he continues, his voice softening. "I want you to choose to be with me, to let me guide you, to help you become the person you were always meant to be."
Choose me, give yourself to me, and I will give you everything, he promises, his gaze intense and unwavering. My protection, my guidance, my...affection.
"And in return," he murmurs, leaning in a bit closer, "you will give yourself to me completely. Body, mind, and soul."
Dante watches as Vierva's eyes widen at his words, a flicker of surprise and something else, something he can't quite place, passing through those striking green depths. He can feel her tense slightly in his grasp, her breath hitching almost imperceptibly. It's clear that she understands the implication behind his words, the unspoken demand hidden beneath the gentle tone.
She knows what I want from her, he realizes, a surge of dark satisfaction coursing through him. She knows that I'm not just offering her a life of luxury and ease.
He leans in even closer, his lips now a mere breath away from hers. His eyes never leave her face, watching for every tiny reaction, every micro-expression that crosses her delicate features. He wants to see the exact moment when she realizes the true extent of his desire, the depth of his obsession with her.
"You don't have to answer now," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "Take all the time you need to think about it. But know this - I will wait for you, Vierva. I will be patient. And when you're ready, when you're sure...come to me."
And I will take you, he promises silently, his heart pounding with anticipation. I will claim you, possess you, make you scream with pleasure and beg for more.
For now, he simply holds her there, his hand cupping her face, his eyes locked on hers. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. Praying that she will choose him, that she will give herself to him willingly. Because that is what he wants most of all - her choice, her consent, her desire.