My senses took in every detail as I was carried up the familiar steps to the hidden enclosure of the turret. The light was purple, stained with dusk as day gave way to night. We passed the series of diamond-shaped windows as we ascended. His footsteps were quick, heavy but agile with his anticipation. His arms were warm against my back and beneath my knees, and his chest was a solid mass of pinpointed sharpness. I could smell the intensity of his desire, and I knew he would not be gentle or kind. He did not have it in him. Once he might have, but compassion had long ago given way to raw ambition. And I was the pinnacle of all that he had ever worked for, yearned for, fought for. It didn’t matter that I would be taken by force. I was the crown upon which he would proclaim his manhood and his victory. I was laid down onto the ancient pink sun-bleached pillows where my mother had once slept. Aleck straddled my hips, pinning me painfully. I struggled, but he didn’t so much as budge.
