by Ciana Stone
Victor paused for a long moment, put his finger underneath her chin and tilted her face up. "Say that you’re starving. I've had the chef prepare something special for us."
"Yes!" She laughed, relieved and grateful that he’d let her off the hook. "Actually I am."
Morgan took Victor's arm, and he escorted her through the house to a large dining room. A massive table dominated the center of the room, placed beneath the largest chandelier she had ever seen in her life. A buffet that seemed to stretch down the entire side of one wall was laden with food with a waiter positioned at each end.
As she looked at food a sick expression crossed her face, even though she tried to hide it. Victor looked at her strangely. "Is something wrong?"
Morgan hadn't realized that her distaste had communicated itself quite so clearly. The buffet was loaded with a wide variety of dishes. Unfortunately, she wasn’t what could be called an adventurous eater and some of the dishes made her feel queasy just to look at. She nervously cleared her throat and searched the buffet for something she could eat.
Several types of fish, along with sea snail, squid, and snails, sat in waiting. Swallowing back the shudder, she surveyed the serving dishes bearing beef and pork dishes along with every imaginable kind of poultry. To her great delight there were several platters of fresh fruits and raw vegetables at the opposite end of the buffet.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she smiled up at Victor. "Why, no, nothing's wrong. Everything looks wonderful."
Once seated, the waiters filled their wine glasses and left. Victor looked over at Morgan's plate. A chicken breast, fruits and vegetables occupied her plate. "The food doesn’t please you," he said in a tight voice.
Morgan reached over and rubbed his hand that gripped the wine glass like he was about to snap it in half. "No, this is wonderful. I couldn't have chosen anything better myself."
But Victor didn't believe her. "I will have something else prepared for you," he said starting to rise.
"No!" she laughed and tugged on his hand. "Stay where you are. There's nothing to be upset about. I'm not a huge eater and while the rest of my family are meat eaters, I’m primarily a vegetarian. I only eat red meat occasionally, so this is perfect."
Victor gave her a look she had seen many times over the years, one that said either you're joking, or you're from Mars, or something "You don't eat any meat? A cattle rancher who doesn’t eat beef?”
She laughed again. “I do. Occasionally.” She’d become understanding of the reaction of people who were not used to being around vegetarians. Over the years she had even come to find it amusing.
The remainder of the dinner passed smoothly after that. Victor was very widely read and quite knowledgeable in a number of areas. Morgan found him to be an interesting and captivating man.
Quite a combination. A body to die for, face like a dream, and brains on top of all that. If only she could forget that old warning. Stay far away from Victor Vinsetti.
Victor, on the other hand, was a little surprised at just how intelligent and perceptive Morgan was. He’d been told she had been something of a child genius, but he was not really accustomed to being around intelligent, strong women. It was a new experience and he found himself enjoying it.
Having eaten, Victor suggested they relax in one of the other rooms. He escorted her into a large, but at the same time cozy, den and surprised her by having a fire burning in the big stone fireplace. The heavy drapes were pulled, shutting out the afternoon light and creating the illusion of night beyond the firelight.
"Isn't it kind of hot for a fire?" She asked without thinking.
"That's why we have air conditioning," he replied nonchalantly. "And a fire is so much more romantic, don't you think?"
Morgan smiled and walked over to the fire. "Would you like a drink?" Victor asked from behind her.
"Just a glass of juice if you have it." She replied as she sank down in front of the fire onto a thick soft rug.
Victor returned from the bar with two glasses. He handed her a glass of cold mixed fruit juices, sat down beside her on the rug and leaned back on one elbow. He watched her as she stared into the flames.
"Thanks," she said and drank almost half of the juice. "This is wonderful." She turned the glass up, finished it then set the empty glass on the hearth. Morgan continued to look deep into the fire, relaxed by the glow and movement of the flames.
Without realizing the seductive picture she presented she drew her knees up to her chest, tucking the full skirt of her peasant dress between her thighs. Wrapping her arms around her knees she sighed contentedly, feeling relaxed and a little dazed.
Victor sipped his drink and silently enjoyed the view she presented. Without being aware of it, she had just taken the final dose of the drug. With assurances from the chemists that she would not require more and that there would be no harmful side effects, Victor also had their promises that he would have no difficulties with her once the final dose was administered. He felt sure they would not lie to him, for if they did, they knew he would make them regret it.
He watched silently and reviewed the events of the day, giving the drug time to work into her system.
Earlier in the morning he’d received a report from Virginia. The investigation was proceeding on schedule. Everything and everyone was in place. Victor smiled to himself as he thought of just how perfect his plan was and how brilliantly he was carrying it out.
He then turned his attention to Morgan. She had a far-off expression on her face as she stared into the fire. He admired her beauty in the warm light. Her face was painted in warm golden tones by the glow of the fire; the flames mirrored in her eyes. Wearing an expression of one who sees a vision meant only for her, she was oblivious to his stare.
The flickering light danced across her tawny skin and played on the dark radiance of her hair. An almost incandescent aura seemed to hover around her. The pressure of her knees pressed against her chest pushed her firm breasts up, almost spilling them free of the low scooped neck of the dress. One shoulder was bare where the loose short sleeve had dropped down on her arm. With the skirt of the dress bunched up between her legs, her thighs and the sides of her hips were bared to his eyes.
Victor grew warm just looking at her. She was all he had wanted her to be. Now all he had to do was to claim her. Checking his watch to make sure the drug had been sufficiently absorbed, he called to her softly, using her command words. “Morgan, look at me.”
As if in a dream Morgan heard Victor's voice. She turned toward him, letting her legs fall to one side and supporting herself on one hip with her hand propped beside her. "What?" she asked as she looked up into his eyes.
The dreamlike quality shifted into clear, sharp-edged vision as she met his eyes. Glimmers of light danced in wildfire abandon within their depths, drawing her in closer. Instinctively she struggled against the overpowering force, even as she sank deeper into the abyss. Enticed by the spell he wove, she began to give in, surrendering to him.
Like a blast of winter wind, she felt a sudden cold chill on her body, drawing her back to herself. Compelled by a dominating force from behind, she turned and looked at the door.
Silhouetted from behind by the light from the hall, a short man stood in the doorway. Morgan felt goosebumps pop out on her skin as she tried to make out the man's features.
"Juro!" Victor barked as he stood up. "I gave explicit instructions I was not to be disturbed!"
Morgan scrambled to her feet as the man moved into the room with a gliding step. "Please excuse the interruption." He nodded in their direction. "It is a matter of some importance."
Victor looked angrily at the smaller man before turning to Morgan. "Will you excuse me for a moment?"
"Sure." Morgan felt like she was suddenly in the middle of something she didn't understand and didn't think she wanted to. "Go ahead, I'll be fine."
"Make yourself comfortable," Victor said as he walked towards the door. "I will be back shortly."
Morgan took a step towards the couch then stopped to turn back to the door. The man Victor had identified as Juro stood watching her, his impenetrable almond-shaped black eyes drilling into her with almost savage intensity.
For a moment they were frozen in time with their gazes locked. He broke the contact by giving her a short nod then turned and followed Victor into the hall.
Morgan dropped down on the couch. "Whoa," she murmured to herself. "That was strange! Who is that man, anyway? So hard and cold! And those black eyes that see right through you."
"Eyes that see right through you?" She suddenly repeated, jumping up and looking at the door with misgivings. "Eyes that see right through you," she repeated to herself.
Morgan's mind worked furiously. There was something about Juro that struck a chord within her. Wading through the fog that seemed to have taken over her mind, she searched for a clue to her reaction to the man. Suddenly, a memory filled her inner vision.
She was nearing her thirtieth birthday and it was both sad and exciting. When she was twenty, Joe and Myrtle had given her an unusual birthday gift. They introduced her to Master Hattori, a man who’d immigrated to the United States and was a revered marital arts master who’d long been friends with Joe.
Over the last ten years, there’d been times when Morgan questioned why she continued the lessons. There were days when she left feeling like she’d been trampled by an army. Yet, she kept going back. Maybe it was because Joe said it was important for her. Not just for disciplining her physical body but her mind as well.
Today was her final day with Master Hattori. Having completed the physical training session, she knelt on her knees on the floor before him. Morgan bowed her head to the floor before she addressed him. "Meijin," she said, using the title of highest honor.
Hattori knelt before her, looking deep into her eyes as she rose from the bow. "It is time," he said, " You have reached the moment of kaiden, the final teaching."
Morgan looked questioningly into his hard, black eyes. As always, she was unable to read Hattori. His eyes mirrored nothing back but her own reflection. She recalled how her first impression of him was that his eyes, so dark they appeared black, seemed to see right through her. Remaining silent and attentive, she waited for his instructions.
"We will not meet again after this day," he began. "The time has come for our paths to separate. You will go on alone, and yet not alone on your path. The teachings will be with you, your only constant companion."
Hattori settled himself easily into a meditative position, his voice pitched low and hypnotically. "A warrior stands alone. With the discipline of his training to support and guide him, he is apart from others. Bold but never arrogant, strong but never loud, confident but never vain. A warrior will always recognize one of his own kind. The power within the eyes can be felt, but not explained. When meeting those of his kind, the warrior is reminded that these are the people who practice the arts of life and death.
"Training of the body is the warrior's first stage. Perfecting his technique and skill he hones his senses and forms his physical body into the perfect tool.
“Yet we seek to move beyond the first stage of the warrior into the realm of the mystic warrior. To make this transition, much is required.
"One must strive for shibumi with every breath and each heartbeat. Once attaining this complete yet simple state of elegance, a certain aura of perfection is added to all a warrior may do. All elements of his conduct, his technique and his life, display shibumi.
"Power stems from shibumi. Freed from the fear of failure, the warrior is unfettered in his effort to attain perfection. He wastes no time. Flaws are not permitted. He expects to die tomorrow; therefore, there is no time to spare for imperfections today.
"A warrior must have more than mere physical skill, however. The command of strategy is most important. Strategy guides the effort. One must learn to rapidly identify the objective and swiftly accumulate information. The environment must also be studied, so that one is properly prepared for the oncoming conflict.
"Also, among your most useful tools is the ability to read the opponent. Developing this ability, along with timing and rhythm, the warrior has an advantage over his adversary.
"Aiki, united spirit, gives one access to what is thought of as a spiritual principle, allowing either domination of your opponent by way of harmonizing with his force and then redirecting it against him; or by employing the force to crush his will to fight.
"Mushin, what is called mind-no-mind, the state in which a warrior is aware of all things but without thought, clears the mind thus enabling the warrior to read the subtle shades of those around him. This imparts the freedom to react with uninhibited speed.
"These concepts are not new to our teachings, merely a reminder of what you have learned. You must not forget. The teachings must be a part of you, inseparable from what you are."
Hattori paused, his eyes probing deeply into Morgan's. For the first time she could ever remember, she saw a slight softening in the hardness of his eyes. Then he began again, in a low but firm voice.
"Having perfected the skills and techniques, the warrior may enter the game. The rules are quite simple. One must simply be true to his own nature; that which lies beyond the boundaries of illusion.
"The warrior must be persistent in his quest for perfection of self, always striving to defend the path of truth. With steadfast courage, the warrior honors the universal principles as he journeys the path; plays the game. He knows that insight may be found only from within.
"In ever changing, constant motion; in flux yet remaining fixed, the game goes on, regardless of our decision to enter.
"When the moment arrives for you to make that decision, you must look deep within yourself. And be forewarned before entering the game. The inner path is fraught with dangers. Here you meet the delusions of the ego. Here you must battle the creatures of the psyche.
"The path to the light lies in a dark valley, surrounded on all sides by the sharp cliffs of self-doubt. You must decide if you dare to travel the path, if you have the strength and courage to look deep within the mirror of your own soul.
"Your training will help provide illumination on the dark path, to help guide you to your destination, the Source. There all questions will be answered, all things made clear.
"But know this. To look into the Source, the eye of the dragon, one's spirit must be pure. For therein lies the power; power enough to destroy you in a single glance.
"All things meet here. Eternal opposites merge. And all things wait here. Universal power, to heal or destroy. Love, abundant enough to make you as one of the immortals. And wisdom, of such magnitude as to obliterate the mind with its vastness or, fill it with the knowledge and understanding of all things.
"You must choose at the appointed time for yourself to enter the game, to take up the quest. You take with you that which I give freely.
"Our training is finished. I will not forget you. Farewell."
Rising, Hattori stood still as Morgan bowed her head to the floor. "Farewell, Meijin," she whispered, tears dropping from her eyes to the polished floor.
When she raised her head, he was gone.
Coming back to the present Morgan felt recognition break through the confusion. Knowing what she would see she turned her head toward the door.
Juro stood beyond the threshold, silently observing. She stood and bowed deeply from the waist. With a short half bow he turned and walked away.
Morgan curled up on the wide couch and pillowed her face on her hands as she lay looking into the fire, wondering about Juro. The random pattern of the flames tranquilized her thoughts. Before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep with her old Master’s words still echoing in her mind.
The dream came to her like an answer to a prayer. Cord kissed her tenderly as his hands caressed her. Sighing in pleasure, she opened herself to him. Slowly and gently he began to move within her, their desire blending in perfect harmony. "Cord
," she breathed his name as she gazed into his eyes, "I love you." Within his dark brown eyes, she saw that love returned.
A sudden jolt brought Morgan wide awake, out of the dream. She looked around in confusion, wishing she could slip back into the dream and stay there. A hand on her shoulder shook her again. She turned her head looked into Victor's smoky blue eyes, unaware she had spoken Cord's name aloud.
Morgan turned away from the anger she saw but didn’t understand. How had she gotten here? In this room and this bed? And where were her clothes? She looked up at the ceiling and tried to remember how she had gotten here. She remembered being in the den and seeing Juro, but everything was blank after that. She realized that it was dark. I must have been asleep for hours.
Victor took her chin in his fingers and forced her to turn to him. "You were having a nightmare." He said in a cold voice with fury clearly inscribed on his face.
Morgan made no comment. Had she something during her sleep to let him know what she was dreaming about? Maybe. She didn’t know and wasn’t sure what to do so she just lay there stiffly enduring his enraged stare.
His eyes blazed at her continued silence. He moved one hand to her neck, caressed gently then suddenly gripped tightly. Morgan's eyes registered alarm as he rose and positioned himself above her with his legs straddling her body.
He increased the pressure on her throat, and repeated. "You were having a nightmare, were you not?"
Morgan's body flinched automatically as he simultaneously lowered his weight down on her abdomen and squeezed her throat painfully. Warning bells went off in her head. She was at a disadvantage, so the smartest move would be to go along with him. “Yes," she appeased him, "I was dreaming."
Victor raised his off her to relieve the pressure, but kept his knees planted firmly on either side of her body. He snatched the sheet back to expose her, and his hand moved to her breast and clamped roughly
"Who were you dreaming about?" he demanded, a threat conveyed in his tone.
