Retribution (Book 3 of The Dominion Series)

by Lund, S. E.

  Then, he runs his nail along the skin on his neck and a thin line of blood seeps from the wound.

  "Feed from me," he says, and I stare at the blood. I read about doing this in the journal, but since we've been together, I have only consumed blood from the vial he provided me. I hesitate, but then I cover the wound with my mouth and suck and his body shudders from the pleasure. When the blood hits my brain, I'm in another place with him, and that place is pure pleasure that seems to go on and on…

  I know he'll fight my desire to kill Soren, but I won't give in until he complies.

  That, or I'll leave him and I doubt he'll let me leave him ever again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "You shall know the truth and the truth shall drive you mad."

  Aldous Huxley

  The next few days pass much as they have since the bombing. Michel and I walk the beach together, stopping to remember when we met – again – and the few days we're back together are so happy and filled with pleasure, I shut off my mind for once, just letting things happen. He shows me memory after memory so that I start to feel our shared past rather than just know about it from reading my journal.

  He can't deny me this time. When we've had our fill of each other, he'll let me back in to the life he tried so hard to keep me from so we can kill Soren. He's not said it in so many words but I've felt his resignation about it. He knows that unless he wants to go through the whole drug me to make me forget exercise again, I won't give up until we face what lies ahead. Until we find a way to destroy Soren and prevent Dominion. He's tried to keep me from being involved and it nearly cost me my life. Now, he must understand that I can't let it go.

  It's my calling – to do what my mother failed to do. Help in the fight to 'cure' vampirism and prevent new vampires from being made.

  To help prevent Dominion.

  That night, we wear sweaters as we walk along the shore because the nights are now cool, the air crisp with a hint of Autumn. After our walk, we lie on a blanket on the beach and watch the stars, our hands clasped.

  I want him to show me his memory of my mother's death. I haven't asked him yet, and have been blocking him from my mind so he won't know. But all day, I've been thinking of it – wanting to know how he felt and what he was doing when it happened. They knew each other and he was her liaison to the Council. As we're lying on the beach, I decide to ask.

  "Take me back to the day my mother died. When you learned about it."

  He says nothing for a moment. "Why?"

  "I want to know what you know, how you felt."

  He sighs. "That is not a memory you should have, Eve. It's not a good memory nor is it safe for you to know. It will put you at risk."

  "How? I just want to know how you felt about it. What you know."

  "I can tell you that Soren was responsible. He wanted your mother to turn over research to him, research she was doing for the Council to find a silver bullet to kill us all. He tried to compel her but she was immune, just like you. That’s where you got it. When she wouldn't comply, she died."

  "Wouldn't killing her mean he'd never get her research?"

  "No," he says. "There were others working with her. He wanted her on his side. He wanted to develop his own silver bullet – not one that would kill us all, but kill selectively so he could use it against those who resisted him. She was key, but her colleagues would be just as useful."

  "I want your memory," I say, my voice firm. "You used your memories to convince me to stay with you. It's not fair that you get to use them for your own goals but not for mine. Show me."

  He turns on his side and reaches out to stroke my cheek. "Please Eve. I'm asking you not to demand this. Ask me for some other memory – any other memory. This is somewhere you don't want to go."

  "Or somewhere you don't want me to go," I say, and pull my hand out of his. "What is it about her death that you don't want me to know? "

  He doesn't say anything for a moment, his expression haunted, his eyes huge.

  "I was there."

  "What?" A shock rushes through me. "You were there? When he killed my mother?"

  He sighs heavily.

  "You have to understand, Eve, that I was susceptible to his compulsion. I had no ability to stop what happened. I didn’t know what was going to happen and even if I did, he controlled me."

  I reach out to touch him, to try to connect with him to see into his memories, but he blocks me, pulling away.

  "Eve, no," he says, frowning.

  "Michel," I say and tuck his hair behind his ear. I move closer and kiss him. "Tell me the truth. Do you think I won't stay with you if I know the truth? Isn't telling the truth better than lying to me?"

  "I'm not lying. I was there. I couldn't stop it from happening." He shakes his head. "You won't understand."

  "Try me," I say and kiss him again.

  Then he kisses me back forcefully, almost angrily, his arms wrapping around me, his mouth opening, his tongue touching mine. I feel his emotions when we connect and he tries to drown out my questions with pleasure, squelching my ability to push because I'm almost blinded by it. He rolls me over and lies on top of me, his wings unfurling, spreading out above us. He kisses me, my face, my neck, the curve of my breast as he unbuttons my sweater.

  "I want you right now, here on the beach," he says, his voice breathy. His need ignites my own and I lie still while he opens my bra to release my breasts. He squeezes a breast and sucks my nipple and I can't help but arch my back, a moan escaping my lips.

  "You won't get out of this so easily," I say, smiling in spite of myself as he starts to unbutton my jeans, tugging the zipper down.

  "We'll see about that," he says, pulling my jeans off, the cool air making me shiver. He practically rips my panties off and then kneels between my thighs, pressing them apart, kissing all around my hips and thighs before claiming me, his mouth covering me, his tongue finding my clit.

  I gasp from the pure pleasure of it, my fingers tangling in his long hair.

  Overhead the stars are unmoved by the show of passion taking place beneath them, between some kind of strange and powerful vampire-angel hybrid and a small human female. I'm barely able to focus as Michel's tongue swirls around my clit, while he sucks it, making me shudder with pleasure. He slips fingers inside of me, stroking me.

  "You're so nice and wet, Eve.

  "It's all your fault," I say, smiling.

  "I'm going to love fucking you."

  I close my eyes and inhale when he begins to suck and stroke at the same time. It doesn't take long and soon, I know I'm close.

  Then he removes his fingers and rises up, freeing his erection from his jeans, and he slides into me with a tortured grunt, his wings half folded. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him against me with each of his thrusts and I'm so worked up, so swollen and ready that, soon, my eyes roll back in my head from the pleasure.

  I hear him gasp as he starts to climax, my orgasm bringing on his, and the combined sensation is almost enough to make me pass out from pleasure.

  We lay together for a few moments, recovering.

  "If you think I won't ask again just because you're so good at this, think again." I swallow, my heart rate slowly decreasing. "I didn't think plain old vanilla sex would be good enough for you, Michel."

  I see his grin despite the darkness. "After a century of abstention, and these past two months without you, do you really think I could resist any sex with you, vanilla or otherwise?"

  He slips out of my body and we just lie there enjoying the post-orgasm high, his face in the crook of my neck. He sniffs my skin, kisses his bite mark and I know he'd love to bite me and drink my blood right now, but he wants to wait until it's time for my feed.

  He'll have to let me in, let me experience his memory of my mother's death, or I'll leave, and he knows that. I relent and won't push right now. This is too good. I want this moment to last for a while. But I won't let it rest for long.

  I have a plan…r />
  The next night, after a long day of walking the beach and then sitting in the silence of the house reading, we stand side by side at the island in the kitchen in his cottage and prepare fresh spring rolls for dinner.

  While I slice the vegetables and stir fry the thin strips of marinated tofu, he prepares the wrappers, soaking them in hot water and then blotting the excess moisture with a paper towel. In the background, Debussy is playing on the sound system – Reverie. One of my favorite pieces.

  We don't speak, just move around each other while we work, both of us listening to the music, enjoying the comfortable silence. He moves behind me to get a new roll of paper towels, and touches me as he passes, his hands resting for a moment on my hips. He kisses my neck briefly from behind. I smile, and keep chopping the carrots, slicing them into thin strips. I pop the end of a carrot into my mouth and chew while he hums along with the music.

  This is so nice.

  I glance over at him and he's smiling to himself while he works. Then I go behind him to get the cilantro from the fridge and touch him as I pass, my hand sliding down his back to his butt, which I give a soft squeeze.

  This goes on for a while longer, both of us making every excuse to touch each other. Still, there's no discussion, for even at a distance, I can feel him through our shared connection as his blood slave. He's content. He's happy. He knows we're going to fuck before we eat. All the touches are just foreplay. He's trying to decide whether I should feed before dinner or after. If I wait to feed, it means we'll fuck twice this evening and that just feels right.

  He's been pretty easy with me since we became lovers again, not enforcing this dominance and submission relationship just yet, but I can feel his desire to and that he's just ever so slightly taking more and more control. He wants to build trust with me before he goes too far with it.

  I like that he's planning for us, thinking about how he wants things to be done. I thought it would bother me based on what I've read in my journal, but instead, it arouses me, even the signs of control he's shown me. I know he's planning to work up to more control, more dominance. I'm a bit breathless to see how I respond to it. When I imagine him controlling me even more, I feel an immediate response physically.

  He's hoping I'll give up my desire to join the battle once more by establishing a D/s relationship. He hopes that I'll enjoy it so much, that I'll give up my plans.

  I let him have his delusion.

  Michel wants me. He wants to be mine. Michel wants all of me and to be everything to me. That's pretty powerful. He wants to fulfill my every need – except for my need to kill Soren.

  From what I read in my journal, Julien said he could never give me what I needed. That I had to just take what he could give, which was pretty much just good sex. A good fuck now and then. But Julien was totally committed to fighting Dominion and letting me play my part. As his partner. His equal.

  Sadness fills me for some reason, despite all the good feelings between Michel and me. Michel senses my shift in emotion. He puts down his rice wrapper, takes the knife out of my hands and turns me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. He releases some kind of endorphin in my brain that drains the sadness out of me, replacing it with a deep sense of warmth from him, of love.

  "He's moved on, Eve," he says softly, his lips against my neck below my ear where he bit me that first time.

  I nod, certain from the entries in my journal that I meant little to Julien, or at least, he's occupied with whatever woman he's with at the time. Another vampire, probably. Some call girl that he had to fuck as part of his cover infiltrating Blackstone like he did when I was with him. I'm glad he's moved on. I don't need that kind of disruption in my life. I love being with Michel. He feels so strong and so certain, like a powerful force that will protect me. That will completely possess me. From my journal, I know that Julien always just upset me, frustrated me, and made me feel unsteady, like I could lose my grip and fall.

  Michel takes my hand and pulls me away from the island. "Come," he says and I know he wants us to fuck now, so I'll forget this little mental reverie about Julien.

  "But the tofu…"

  Michel stops and turns the stove off and then takes my hand, pulling me into the bedroom. I let him of course, smiling once more at the thought he's going to make me come, using pleasure to control me. It's the kind of control I don't mind giving over.

  Once we get to the bed, he sits on it and pulls me between his thighs and starts to unbutton my blouse.

  "You think you can make everything better with an orgasm," I say, grinning at him. He responds immediately with his own smile.

  "Everything is better with an orgasm, Eve."

  When he has my blouse off, and then my bra, he pulls me against him, his face between my breasts, his mouth moving between my nipples.

  And he's right.

  I'm famished by the time we've finished preparing our meal of fresh rolls and Vietnamese beer. We sit at the table by the window and before we start, Michel makes the sign of the cross, his head bowed for a moment. I frown – he's still so religious. He's unable to completely escape the Church – escape being a priest – despite all these centuries.

  I eat my meal with relish, dipping my fresh roll in the peanut sauce Michel made. We're sitting at the small table by the sliding glass doors that look out over the ocean. The doors are open, admitting the sound of the ocean in the distance and the scent of fresh salt air. On the sound system, a selection of Gregorian Chants provides a somber but beautiful ambience. It reminds me of what Michel is at heart – a priest. A man of God. How sad for him that Marguerite took that away from him. Despite how hard he tries to live a chaste and priestly life, he fails. He kills in the service of the Council, he fucks me, and he plots and plans, lies and cheats.

  His life is as far from the priesthood as it could be.

  I reach out and take his hand, overcome with love and sympathy for him. He looks up from his glass of beer and smiles.

  "I'm happy, Eve. Here with you, like this."

  "Would you have preferred to remain mortal, taken your place as Bishop of Carcassonne? Lived and died in the Church?"

  He puts his glass down and wipes his mouth on a napkin. Then he looks up at me, his expression thoughtful, a distant look in his eyes.

  "I've lost my immortal soul," he says. "To a priest, that is the worst fate possible."

  I frown. "I don't believe in souls, immortal or otherwise."

  He smiles softly and returns to his meal.

  "So you're just giving up on fighting Dominion? You and I will just live out my life apart from the battle and let whatever happens happen?"

  "Yes," he says. "That is my desire. If we become involved in the fight, you or I – or both of us, will die. I couldn't stand for you to die because of this insanity."

  "My mother died because of it. I need Soren to get retribution, Michel. You have to know I won't rest until he does get it."

  He turns to me, his expression just a bit frustrated. "After all this effort to get you back, do you really think I'll just let you put your life at risk?"

  "Yes," I say. "You and I – we can't have a normal life. Not while vampires are planning to take over. Not while Soren is free."

  His blue eyes are huge. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to sacrifice yourself."

  "You really think you can sit by and ignore the war you've told me about?"

  He takes my hand once more. "I'll do my best. No one knows you're alive except Vasily and your parents. Whatever happens, you and I will remain apart from it. I've lived too long and sacrificed too much. I'm not giving up anything else. There are others who can fight this war. I'm out."

  He turns back to his last fresh roll and eats it without looking at me as if that's his final answer. I sit and stew for a moment, knowing that I can't accept that. I can't stand by while Soren and his servants prepare to take power.

  I say nothing in reply, sticking to my plan. I don't want this sour feeling betwee
n us. I want to enjoy Michel while I can. Just the two of us alone.

  It will be time to leave this little haven he's created soon enough.

  We go for our nightly walk on the beach, Michel's arm around my shoulders. While the days are still warm, they're getting shorter and it's already dark when we walk along the shore. There's a half-moon and its light glows on the surf. The sky is clear and the Milky Way is a long dusty arc in the sky above us. The exercise will invigorate me, make my mind clear for a while before my feed.

  Now is when I most want to talk to Michel about Dominion, press him for more details, but I bite my tongue and wait. When we get back to the cottage, my stomach is already full of butterflies, thinking of our feed and what I want to happen. I've been planning this for a few days, giving Michel some time to calm down about me wanting to relive his memory of my mother's death. Tonight, I want him to drink my blood as I drink his. It will maximize our connection and our pleasure, and when he's under the influence of my blood and we're fucking, I'll see if I can find his memory of my mother's death.

  That's my plan. I think I've been successful in keeping it from him, for if he knows, he doesn't show it.

  We both know what happens next when we arrive back at the cottage. I go to the bathroom and start the water for a nice warm bath. I pour in some of the bath salts Michel had prepared that contain my perfume. There are no words between us as we undress and step into the tub. Michel sits across from me, his pale skin so beautiful in the soft overhead light. Michel takes one of my feet and washes it with some soap.

  It tickles me a bit and I can't help but giggle.

  "Oh, your feet are ticklish, are they?' he says, a devilish grin on his face. "Now I know a surefire way to make you smile and show me your dimples."

  I try to pull my foot away, because I can barely stand him touching the sensitive bottom. "Don't, Michel!" I laugh when he refuses and continues to wash it. Then, when it's rinsed of soap, he starts to suck my toes.