“I saved your life, Livia,” he said, his voice rising. “Made you my daughter. And a daughter has obligations to her father. That’s the way God made the world. You’re lucky I haven’t demanded more of you. I could have. Until you’re married, your body is my right. Do you understand me?”
Some distant part of her realized this was the way he always went about it. Every time he did something worse to her, he worked himself into a tirade first. Maybe he needed to do that, to justify what he wanted from her. It seemed he was going to do it now.
“I’ve been patient with you,” he went on. “Respectful. I waited, until I thought you were old enough for different experiences. Until I thought you were ready. Well, maybe I’ve been overly solicitous. Maybe you were ready before I thought. Maybe you’re ready now.”
She could feel the dragon unfurling its wings, opening its claws. “Leave me alone,” she said again, still not looking at him.
He placed his drink on the bureau and came closer, stopping in front of her and leaning down until his face was just a few inches from hers. “You little ingrate. After everything I’ve done for you? I found your sister for you. Do you ever want to see her again? Do you ever want to see Nason?”
Nason’s name in his mouth was suddenly sickening. An atrocity. She looked up at him, her lips drawing back. “You’re a liar,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper.
His face darkened. “That’s enough. Take off your clothes. Get on the bed.”
Her breath felt hot now, like smoke coming from a fire burning in her lungs. “No.”
For a second, she saw complete shock in his eyes. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “You will obey me!” he shouted.
Without thinking, she dropped back with one foot, forcing him to straighten his arms, and shot her hands up under his elbows, breaking his grip. Then she stepped in and shoved him in the ribs, harder than she had ever shoved anything in her life. He stumbled back and almost fell, but hit the wall and recovered his balance.
“Get out,” she said, her voice alien, low and dangerous and hot with rage. The dragon’s voice.
“Bitch!” he shouted, and charged her. She couldn’t get out of the way in time, and he slammed into her and knocked her back. Her head hit the edge of her desk and there was a huge flash of white light. Then everything went away.
She felt a throbbing in her head, and then the room came swimming back into focus. Her sweater was pushed up and her pants and panties were off. She was on the floor looking up at him, his knee digging into her bare stomach. He ripped loose his belt.
“Selfish little bitch,” he said, panting. “Tonight you pay me what I’m due. All of it. Every last bit.”
The throbbing in her head stopped. She felt no fear. It was gone, incinerated by molten rage. A red haze crept into her vision. The dragon that had merely been stirring was fully awake now. It had taken control of her. It was her.
She shoved his knee off her, twisted, and scooted her hips out to the left. Before he could react, she grabbed his lapels and reversed directions, shooting her right knee past his body, working her foot through, and wrapping her legs around his back. The guard. Her favorite.
For one second, he looked almost happy. And why not? He was between her naked legs. What he’d always wanted. He tried to get his pants open, but she pulled him forward so he couldn’t. Then his expression changed to anger as he realized he wasn’t in control. She was.
He straightened and tried to shake loose, but couldn’t. He straightened more, lifting her, then slammed her down against the floor. She saw stars. His height gave him leverage, and his anger was giving him strength. He slammed her again. This time, it knocked some of the wind out of her. He went to do it a third time.
She jerked open his right lapel with her left hand and slipped the fingers of her right hand inside it, high up, alongside his neck. He slammed her down, and as his head rocked forward with the impact, she reached behind his neck with her left hand and got her thumb inside the left side of his lapel, near the back of the collar. She whipped her left arm around his head, dropped her elbows close to her body, and squeezed, the bones at the outer edge of her forearms crushing the sides of his neck like the tongs of a giant walnut cracker. A cross-collar choke, one of the first moves Malcolm had taught her.