Retribution (Book 3 of The Dominion Series)

by Lund, S. E.

  “Luckily, it is you. But what were you thinking? I couldn't quite read you because my blood is leaving your system."

  "I was thinking that you never slept with me before and wondering why you are now."

  "I've changed," he says softly. "Before I thought you'd died, I thought I had time to position myself so I could win you back from Michel. I can't wait anymore. I have to take what I want or Michel and Soren will."

  I don’t really know what I think of this possessiveness of his, other than it thrills me a bit and scares me at the same time. He’s so powerful now as a vampire since he and Michel took the waters of life, but it’s just the force of his personality that’s also so powerful.

  He pulls me over on top of him and kisses my neck. I try to pull away.

  “Let’s have a shower first,” I say.

  “Women. Always want to be so clean. Men just want to fuck.”

  He lets me go and I get off the bed and go to the bathroom. I turn on the shower so that it’s nice and warm and I get in, Julien behind me. We stand together under the streams of water until we’re both soaked. Then I get shampoo and start washing my hair. He does the same and then pulls me closer so that my back is against him. I lean against the wall, my hands spread to hold my weight.

  He starts running his soapy hands over my body, from my shoulders, over my breasts and down to my groin and between my thighs. Then he soaps my back and down to my behind, his fingers slipping between my cheeks. It’s just so warm and pleasant and arousing, standing like this, for we’re connected, just enough of him touching my mind so that I’m able to take it without getting dizzy.

  He slips his hands back around to my mound, his erection pressing against me from behind. Then he takes my hips in his hands rubs his erection between my cheeks, and for a moment, it presses against my anus.

  I tense, something nameless but very dark rising inside of me, scaring me when I feel him there.

  “Don’t,” I say. I straighten up and clench my fists, nails digging into my palms.

  “What’s the matter?” he says and stops. But then he knows because he feels the buried memory just before the pain from my palms blocks him.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, instantly understanding. He tries to turn me around and embrace me but I don’t let him for nausea rises in me at the body memories I can't block. I pull away from him, and he lets me, his hands dropping. I rinse off, all desire fleeing.

  “I wasn’t going to take you that way,” he says, standing there, his hair still all soapy, his lashes wet and clumped together. “I would never unless we talked about it first. It was just accidental.”

  I shake my head, unable to speak. When I’m finished rinsing off, I step out of the shower and he rinses off and turns off the water. I’m almost dry by the time he has a large towel around his waist.

  “Eve,” he says, his voice soft. “Don’t shut me out. Talk to me.”

  “I can’t,” I say and wave him away. “We’ll never talk about that,” I say, motioning to the shower, “because that will never happen. Never.”

  I go to the bedroom and find my clothes.

  He follows me. “Never is a long time.”

  I just wave my hand at him and turn away, biting at my cheek to stop my tears.

  “Eve, I understand that what Thompson did hurt you very deeply. That,” he says and points to the shower, “doesn’t have to hurt. It can be very pleasurable for a woman if done right. It’s all technique. A man has to know what he’s doing.”

  I turn to him, horrified. “That will never happen. If you want it, find someone else.”

  He grabs me and holds me still, his hands gripping my shoulders.

  “Eve,” he says, his voice soft. “You want the truth. I’ll tell you the truth.”

  I turn my face but he forces it back so that he’s looking in my eyes.

  “I’ve lived a long time. The things you fear the most?” he says and strokes my cheek. “The things you say you’ll never do because you fear them? Those are the things you must do to defeat your fears. If you don’t, they’ll fester inside of you. They'll haunt you. If you do them, they lose power over you. Then, you’ll be free.”

  I can’t believe he’s saying these things.

  “How could you even imagine doing it to me when you know what happened to me?”

  “I fuck you, Eve, even though Thompson did as well. Even though he hurt you when he did. You enjoy fucking me, don’t you?”

  “I would never enjoy that.”

  “Yes, you would.”

  “Never.”

  “You would. You’d come, hard, and then you’d cry because you’d be so relieved. You’d be so glad you destroyed another fear. Overwrote another bad memory with a good one. I know you, Eve. You want to be fearless. It’s your motivation for everything – this need to no longer be afraid of the darkness in your past. Your mother’s death, your father’s insanity, your own rape.”

  I try to pull my arms away from him. “I thought I knew you.”

  “OK, that’s the end of it.” He lets go of me, raising his hands as if in surrender. “You won’t hear another word from me about it. If you ever want to try, I’m here. I know how and I guarantee you’ll be glad you did. You’ll be stronger and you'll be free from your past.”

  “It’s perverted.”

  “Sacristy,” he says under his breath. He makes a sound in his throat and covers his eyes with a hand for a moment. “Then I am one and just about every man in the world who ever existed is as well, because part of every one of us wants to do it. That's the truth. Even Michel, although he'd probably deny it and then just dream of it.”

  He turns away and dries off.

  I quickly dress, then leave the bedroom and sit at the piano in the large reception room. I don’t really know how to move on from this uncomfortable moment, all the lovely warm emotions and lust from earlier are gone now.

  He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my shoulders, his mouth at my neck.

  "This was a mistake," I say, my throat choky.

  “No, the mistake was ever letting Michel take you back when he returned from Pittsburgh, but I didn't want Soren to take you. I love you, Eve,” he says softly. “Whatever you want. Anything you want. Anything.” He sits on the bench and turns my face to him. “I’m yours, in case you didn’t realize it. I’ll do anything you want. Just say the word.”

  I look at him for a moment, at the blue eyes, the dark brows. The thin silvery scar on his cheek.

  “I read in my journal that you said you couldn’t give me what I want. What made you change your mind?”

  "Time," he says and shakes his head, brushing the backs of his fingers along my chin. “Time changes us all.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "March on and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life's path."

  Khalil Gibran

  “The first thing you have to do is get trained,” Julien says as we sit at a small table in the reception room and a servant brings a tray of food for our breakfast. I select some scrambled eggs and toast, with a cup of coffee and orange juice. I’m starving, having barely eaten since Julien found me on the beach.

  “What will that involve?”

  He scrapes eggs and bacon onto his plate and digs in, as if he's ravenous.

  “You need to learn how to use your powers,” he says between bites, eyeing me judgingly. “You beat Michel in the dojo but that was just one on one. If you have several opponents and some of them are also Adepts with fight sight, you’ll need to know how to beat them. You’re going to a special training facility in France.”

  “France?”

  He nods, takes a sip of coffee. “They specialize in Nitō Ichi fighting. You need to know how to fight with two weapons – a stake and a sword. Or a gun and a stake. The trainers there are the very best. You’ll be there for two weeks to get the basics and then you and I will practice for a while. You’ll be tested when I think you’re ready. If you pass, no on
e will be able to beat you without a very tough fight.”

  “I can’t beat either you or Michel any more, can I?”

  He shakes his head, takes a long drink of orange juice, looking at me intently over the rim of his glass.

  “No. Not since we both transformed.”

  “Since you both can now manipulate our minds, make us think you have wings or

  can disappear.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” He says and shakes his head, grinning. “You are so stubborn.”

  He turns back to his food but now, he’s a bit less focused, like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.

  “What?” I say, knowing he wants to speak up but he doesn’t.

  He shakes his head. Puts his fork down and pushes back from the table.

  “Nothing,” he says. He regards me from under those dark brows. “It’ll be a tough two weeks, Eve. You'd better eat up. You’ll be worked like you’ve never been worked before. The mental and physical discipline will change you.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll become tougher. Wiser.”

  “Wiser?”

  “It’s not just a physical discipline. It’s mental. It forces you to focus on what matters. It centers you spiritually.”

  A thrill goes through me at the thought of training and becoming stronger. I took some Kendo as a teen, using wooden katana. I knew that Nitō Ichi was double sword fighting.

  “What about Michel?” I say, wondering how he’ll respond to the fact that Julien has me and is planning on training me.

  “What about him?” he says, and I can still hear a thin note of anger in his voice. “You’re mine. I made that clear to Vasquez. Michel’s out of this as far as I’m concerned. Things are the way they were supposed to be so forget him and his grand plan of manipulation.”

  “What plan?”

  He just waves his hand in dismissal. “He thinks he can control everything. He’s self-deceived.”

  I try to push Michel out of my mind, but I know he’ll be upset that I’m with Julien. Right now, I'm still too shocked by his revelation to know how I feel. I sigh and drink down the rest of my coffee.

  “What about your blood when I’m at the facility?”

  “I’ll make sure you have a supply to keep you healthy. Mine has the strength of ten vampires so it will help you heal from any wounds or bruises you get from training.”

  “When do I go?”

  “Tomorrow. We fly tonight.”

  “You think I’m ready?”

  “If you aren’t, you’ll get ready really quick.”

  “Will I see you at all?”

  He shakes his head. “Not until your training is over. I’ll see you the last day when you’re tested.”

  A sense of apprehension fills me. Going to France, staying at a training facility for two weeks away from everything I know.

  It will be a real test.

  That night when it’s time for my blood feed, I’m in no mood for sex and Julien retreats when he feels me so apprehensive, his lust doing nothing to arouse me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say when he pulls back so I no longer feel his desire. “I’m nervous.”

  “It’s OK. You’ll feel better soon.”

  I feed on his neck as he likes me to, and when I have enough, I just lie in his arms, the endorphins from his blood relieving my anxiety. He lays me back on the couch and rolls on top of me, his face in the crook of my neck, breathing in my perfume. Soon, I start to respond again to the feel of his body on mine, of his lips pressed against my neck. He doesn’t want to feed on me tonight. He wants me to be as strong as possible for my training.

  But he thinks one last fuck won’t hurt me and I see his mind and how he wants me. He wants to fuck me missionary style, my legs wrapped around his waist, him resting on his elbows, his face over mine so we can watch each other’s pleasure.

  So we do.

  Julien spent the night preparing his blood for my stay in France – fourteen small vials of his blood so I won't go through withdrawal and we can still connect.

  We fly on his private jet. The flight is long and my nerves are on edge as the plane taxis down the runway of the private airport where he keeps his plane. He takes my hand and relieves some of the anxiety I feel and we sit like that for a long time, side by side, hands joined across the narrow aisle between the seats.

  After a night of flying, we land in France and drive the rest of the way to Carcassonne. Being there brings a sadness to Julien that I can sense even at a distance. So many memories he has about this city and his transformation. So many battles fought in the surrounding areas during the crusades.

  “It makes you sad to be here,” I say as we walk the cobblestone streets of the old walled city before the drive to the Abbey where I’ll train. “I don’t remember reading the manuscript but I know you and Michel lived here when you were children and then later… after...”

  He threads his fingers through mine. “It’s been so long since I’ve been here. It’s a bit hard, the memories.”

  We stop in front of a stone dwelling, with new windows and white plaster on the outside.

  “This is where she lived,” he says, his voice soft.

  “Who?”

  “Danielle. The one you resemble.”

  I remember what I read in my journal. Soren compelled Michel to kill Danielle. Just like he compelled him to kill my mother. I didn't judge Michel so harshly when I read that journal entry. Part of me knows that Michel wasn't responsible, but my feelings are still so raw.

  “You loved her?”

  “In my way. The way a seventeen-year old boy-man loves. With total abandon, but incredibly shallowly.”

  “How is love different now?”

  “It’s deep,” he says and squeezes my hand. “But the abandon isn’t there any longer. That’s a thing of youth and innocence. It comes from the belief that love never ends. Now, I think there’s always a bit held back. For protection.”

  “That’s sad.”

  He smiles briefly but even now, there's a touch of pain in his eyes.

  “Scar tissue is a great motivator.”

  Poor Julien – to think I was dead all that time… My throat constricts and I squeeze his hand more tightly.

  We drive through the countryside towards the Pyrénées Mountains and anticipation builds inside of me as we near the Abbey. It’s nestled in a high mountain valley, surrounded by forests, the old stone building with a walled enclosure and a huge garden inside.

  The guard at the gate takes Julien’s and my passports and reads them over then motions Julien through. We arrive at the massive front doors of the Abbey de St. Michel, and I get out and stand in awe at the ancient building.

  I sign papers and Julien meets with the trainers while I receive my gear and have my blood taken by a medic with a tray. Then it’s time for Julien to leave and I tear up, suddenly afraid and surprised that I already miss him.

  “Shh,” he says and wraps his arms around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. “You’ll be fine. You’re very gifted. Just try to focus on the training, do everything to the best of your ability, and think of me at night when you’re lying in bed. I’ll feel you thinking of me. They say you shouldn’t masturbate during training so your energy won’t be wasted and so I won’t either. But I will think of you and we can connect for a while.” He bends down and looks in my eyes. “But if either of our minds go there, I’ll shut you out, so be warned. I want you to pass with flying colors, Eve. No hanky-panky.”

  “Hanky-panky…” I say and blink away tears.

  Then the moment comes to part and I stand there, wiping my cheeks. He walks down the hall and away from me for two weeks.

  I follow one of the trainers to my little cell of a room with a narrow single bed and dresser, a desk with a light and a crucifix on the wall over the head of the bed. These rooms, she tells me, were once meant for monks who lived in total silence. All residents are expected to maintain a vow of silence
while at the Abbey except during training and to talk with officials and trainers. No talk with other students is permitted. Lights out at 9:00 p.m.

  She leaves me and I sit on the bed as darkness encroaches on the Abbey. It’s now 8:30 and I have half an hour to get settled, so I unpack the few possessions I am allowed to use – pen and paper, my clothes, toothbrush, bar soap, shampoo and conditioner, brush, comb and medications if needed. Everything else is provided by the Program.

  Finally, I drink down the vial of Julien's blood and lie down on the hard little bed and close my eyes, the endorphin rush overwhelming me. Sleep is a long time in coming. When my mind searches out Julien, he’s still on the road back to Carcassonne, and I feel a brief rush of love from him and then he shuts me out.

  Training is intense.

  If I thought I was worked hard as a child at my father’s knee, it was nothing compared to training at the Abbey. We work all day, starting at dawn, doing work to improve all aspects of our physical health, from balance to strength to reflexes. We learn about weapons, about fighting tactics. We learn about making weapons from everyday materials in case we’re ambushed.

  Each night I go to bed aching from the day’s exertions, drinking down the small vial of Julien’s blood. Then I lie in a kind of stupor as it heals me of my pain and fatigue. It’s then I want to connect with Julien, but he denies me for fear we’ll both succumb to our lust. Instead, we connect right before I drink it when I’m still exhausted and aching from the most recent bouts.

  I lose fat while I’m there, and gain muscle. I can start to see definition in my muscles that I never had before and when I look in the mirror, I’m different. My face changes – my chin is sharper, my cheekbones more defined.

  Julien was right. This is changing me. I am stronger. I feel more confident.

  Finally, we each get our own sparring partner, who we’ll work with for the last three days of training. Mine wears a traditional Japanese costume, a Ninja-like outfit, except for the ornate scowling mask covering his entire face. He stands stiff while I enter the dojo during our first session and bows to me when I take my weapons and stand before him.