Jamison / Crystal
Every day I tried to show them that I was valuable. My parents didn’t see.
Every moment I spent with Carrington, I knew he loved me just as I was, an innocent girl growing up on a Kentucky stud farm in 1900.
I loved Carrington too; he was supposed to be mine. But my father made that impossible. I lost my first love.
Hatred is a great motivator. Fear is inspiring. They helped me recreate myself, re-emerging a continent away as Crystal, stepping into a world controlled by a man I barely knew, a stranger accustomed to getting what he wanted.
Jon saw my passion, he felt my pain and he taught me how to use them to fulfill my destiny. Little did we know that our journey together—at times seemingly mad, at moments only maddening— would lead us back to Carrington . . . and to murder.
I never stopped thinking of her: that golden brown mane of hair, her porcelain, radiant skin and how she would feel in my arms.
When she eventually appeared back in my life, I could not help but wonder what it would be like to kill a man.
I wondered what she was thinking . . . I knew what I was thinking:
I wanted to see her delicate hands bound behind her back.
I wanted to see the longing in her eyes as she waited for me.
To say that I wanted control is an understatement—I demanded it.
We both had desires; we both needed each other.
What we created was a life like no other; whatever she wanted is what I wanted to give. When she said she needed him too, for the first time I wondered if her passion was greater than my need to control.