Hated By All, Loved By Four

♡◦✤My New Doll✤◦♡

•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾MADDOX'S P.O.V.☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•

There’s a process to having a new doll. When I formed this class I was looking for something to keep me entertained. The truth is, I get bored quickly. That’s a norm for me. I need to stay entertained so I keep dolls. They’re pretty girls who bend to my control. They don’t realize when they’ve fallen under my command.

The task of manipulating them into becoming the perfect doll for me is quite easy. I don’t expect any difficulty when it comes to Valeria. I think she’ll make a nice temporary doll. The only non-female doll I’ve ever wanted to keep was the angelic Sebastian. I wanted him for political reasons not my usual attraction, or blood lust reasons. Imagine if I had one of the sons of the three greatest packs under my control.

My family would reach even more people with our influence. I tried to explain that I had no intention of sleeping with him. I tried to explain this to Malcolm who couldn’t see that he was overreacting. Can you imagine throwing a fit just because someone wants to control your boyfriend?

Yikes, couldn’t be me. Well, he might have stopped me then but with Valeria, she will be my newest doll. He won’t be able to stop me.

She focuses on her sketch. From her thoughts, I wonder how her art will turn out considering she doesn’t know how to draw. And I haven’t the faintest clue who Ruel is. But that isn’t a problem. I’ll have it figured out in a few weeks. A few sessions.

I made my way around the class, only thirty minutes left. I stopped by Valeria to see that her piece was.... interesting. She’s not just a fast learner, this level of skill takes years. Heck, it took me eight months to perfect all the art forms I could possibly think of. But she... wow, this girl is talented.

I stood behind her, quietly observing as she put the finishing touches on her piece, Death in Limbo. To my surprise, she had chosen to draw herself, her own face taking up the canvas but split into two distinct halves that shared a single neck. One side of her face was bright, eyes alight with cheer and a gentle smile radiating a sense of hope. The other side was hauntingly different—eyes hollow, lips slack, as if drained of all life and joy. The stark contrast between the two expressions gave the piece a raw, unsettling power. It was as if the cheerful side represented everything alive within her, while the lifeless side hinted at something darker, an inner battle or hidden despair. The composition was beautifully dark, layered with complex emotions. Her interpretation was so strikingly personal and bold that I couldn’t help but feel both impressed and moved by her bravery in confronting such a shadowed part of herself.

Even if it’s only in art form. My eyes moved from the piece to her. Her hand froze like she was being pulled out of her trance and finally noticed my presence.

“Good, baby doll. During our next class, you’ll need to explain what your piece means, and make sure the explanation fits the theme.”

She smiled nervously, she considered me creepy but that was okay. I am not deterred easily just because a future doll finds me creepy. My interest is at the max. I mean she’s wolfless, she’s nervous, she’s a frightened soul in this death-ridden school and I consider that fresh for the taking.

“Why don’t we end our class early?”

“Really?”

“Yes, I have somewhere to be. Why don’t you all round up and leave at your own time?”

The whole class responds with a chorused yes. She doesn’t speak though, she’s quiet. I think the fact that my students are hanging onto my every word unnerves her. I don’t want to read her mind all the time. I want her to surprise me more. While I dig into her life.

There might be something there that I can use for tonight’s session.

I leave the class, letting their creative minds work while I head to the office in the building connected to this one so I can contact my cousin about Valeria’s file. I sat behind my desk, pulling up the digital version of the file.

My phone rings, and I answer without checking. My cousins text and the other adults email me if it’s serious or if they come to find me in person. So I know this can only be my twin. What Jeremy wants is beyond me.

“Oh thank god you answered on the first call. You’ll never believe what just happened.”

I don’t say anything to him, letting him explain something that doesn’t have my interest at all. The girl he’d tackled a few nights ago was recovering, while it was funny the way she’d tried to run, I was left with cleaning up his mess.

A blood farm isn’t easy to run, it’s my job to make sure everyone there is healthy-ish, and that no blood is wasted. The bone in her ankle popped out, it was a mess, but thankfully she’s still healthy where it counts.

Valeria’s file is useless if I have to be honest. All we have on her are the things her parents wrote. I’ll need to send someone to the pack undercover to get the right information. I know it’ll take a while for her to open up to me, and I’m a patient man, but I also need to sate my growing curiosity about her.

Attacked two years ago, she carelessly lost her wolf.

Seems her parents wanted to get rid of her. If I offer them a guarantee that they’ll never see her again they might tell me everything. But that would leave witnesses so I can’t use that route.

Oh well, she’s a pretty doll in the making. All she’ll need by the end of this year is to trust me. My brother eventually stops and hangs up. He just needed someone to talk to even though he knows I don’t listen unless I find his words somewhat entertaining. He talked for at least an hour

I shifted my chair backward, moving it towards the large and wide window. I peer down to see Malcolm chatting with a bunch of students. From across the field, Valeria is there. She’s carrying her canvas and making her way towards her apartment, no doubt. Even though it’s minutes away. She stops though, her eyes moving to Malcolm.

Her lips curve into a smile, and I frown. It doesn’t take this guy long to attach himself to someone, does it? Valeria waves to him, and he says goodbye to the people he was initially talking to. Jogging over to her. With his back facing me, I can’t see his expression but based on her smile I’m guessing he complimented her.

I moved my chair back over to the desk. What to do? Hmm, if she gains interest in them... she’ll tell me about it. Therapist and all that crap. I don’t need to panic about that sunshine. No, I don’t need to do that. She’s going to be my doll at the end of the day.

I spent the day working on other things trying not to think about Valeria. It’s quite hard when my brain is coming up with a million ways to get her to trust me. Perhaps I shouldn’t refer to her as a baby doll.

I snicker, that’s not happening. She’ll get used to the weirdness.

Before I know it the time for our first session has arrived. Her scent is the first thing to alert me to her incoming presence before two soft knocks come to the door. She entered, keeping her eyes down.

“Ah, Miss Vanguard. You’re on time.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to be late.”

“How nice of you. Shall we begin?”

Her fingers rise to tuck a few strands behind her ear as she murmured yes.

I picked up my black notebook and pen. Getting out of my chair, and point toward the far corner of my room where a green long sofa is set by the bookshelf with another green smaller chair facing it.

“Have a sit on the sofa. Do you want something to drink? Tea, water... fruit juice?”

“Water would be nice.”

She’s tense, and I need to fix that. I’m not a licensed therapist, there are vampires here literally trained for that. But I can get people to open up and trust me. It’s a talent, one of many. I plopped my glasses on the coffee table between the chairs and went over to the fridge to get her a cold bottle of water.

Our fingertips brush as I pass it on to her. Once I was seated, I opened the note and wrote down her name. This journal and I will be pals for the next three years that she’s here.

“How do we do this?”

“You need to relax, Miss Vanguard. I’m only here to help.”

Her distrust is evident in the expression she makes. “No offense, but you don’t entirely seem trustworthy.”

“Well, I determine whether you can be reduced to a level one which can help you graduate sooner. Or if you need a higher level. To determine that, I need to know you. I need to be able to help you through what plagues you. I have nothing to gain from you, Miss Vanguard.”

She pinched at the sleeves of her shirt. “Okay, but I’ve never been to a therapist. I’m not sure what to tell you. And I’m not sure what I’m comfortable telling you.”

I tapped my pen against the book. “Would you feel more comfortable if I were to be open with you?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’d do that?”

“Yes, I have no secrets.”

“I find that so hard to believe. Everyone has secrets.”

“Not me, Miss Vanguard. I have nothing to hide.”

I smile and flash through her thoughts. She doesn’t believe a word I say but she admits to herself that she’s curiously dumb enough to find out what she can about me and this school. Then she concludes with: I’d just be talking about myself. It’s not like they don’t already know, my parents must have written down a brief summary.

I don’t believe he can help me, but maybe I can fake progress enough to be reduced to a level one.

Oh, you sly girl. If it had been any other therapist maybe. But I’m your future mate, your future god, you’re not going to trick me. If anything, attempting to deceive me will draw you further into my web.