Dominique's Release: A Captive Souls story

by Kimberly Kaye Terry

  At least until she found out who—or what—she was.

  Her answer must have been good enough because he immediately picked up his stream of chatter.

  Dominique turned her head away, her mind a million miles away as she observed the picturesque landscape through the dingy window of the cab.

  They drove past the thickly packed trees that bracketed the narrow lane, their drooping branches dipped so low she felt as if she could reach out and touch their eerily human-looking limbs.

  The way the large sycamore trees were planted, side by side, reminded her of an army of sentinels safeguarding their residents.

  Or keeping the unwanted away.

  The thought sent a fresh wave of chills through her body and she pressed her head against the back of the seat and shut her eyes, tuning out the old man’s chatter as well as the disturbing view.

  She shrugged off the summer sweater she wore, noting that the temperature in the cab had grown noticeably warmer over the last few minutes. In fact, the closer they’d come to her destination, it seemed the thicker the air, now sticky and warm, had become. As though the air itself was warning them away.

  She pushed aside the silly thought.

  “Are we almost there?” She opened her eyes and reached up to wipe a bead of sweat from her brow away.

  Without warning, the driver pulled over to the side of the road and parked.

  “Why are you stopping?” Dominique asked when the driver stopped yards away from the short bridge he’d pointed to, moments earlier.

  “This is ’bout far as I can take ya, miss. You gotta walk the rest,” he said without turning to face her.

  “What do you mean? The road is fine!” She leaned forward, staring ahead at the deserted lane. Although it was growing darker, she couldn’t see any obstacles in the road that would prevent him from going on.

  Her gaze was drawn from the road ahead to his hands, and she noted the fine tremor in them as he gripped the steering wheel. His thick, gnarled fingers were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that they were white knuckled with strain.

  She opened her mouth to protest and promptly shut it.

  She knew, without knowing or understanding how, that she had to make the last part of the journey toward the house alone.

  She dug in her purse, fishing for the money to pay the driver, when his trembling hand covered her wrist, stopping her. She glanced up at him, startled, her eyes meeting his.

  “Are you sure you want to go there, miss?”

  Dominique pushed her dark sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose and licked dry lips.

  “Yes, this was my father’s home. It belongs to me, now.”

  “Your father? That can’t be…that would mean…” He stared at her, mouth wide open.

  Dominique slowly reached up and drew her glasses down her nose, revealing her eyes.

  At the old man’s startled intake of breath she snatched her hand away and pushed the glasses back into place.

  She didn’t know what the hell had just come over her that she willingly showed her difference, her deformity, to a stranger.

  She reached back down into her oversized bag again, withdrew several bills and all but threw them at the old man in her haste to get away from him and his horrified expression.

  “Keep the change,” she mumbled, grabbed her suitcase, jumped out of the cab and slammed the door shut.

  No sooner had she stepped out of the cab then the old man flipped a quick U-turn, leaving dark skid marks on the pavement as he sped, as much as the old car could, away.

  “Whatever,” she mumbled to herself and turned toward the now deserted road.

  She eased out the handle from her suitcase, tilted it so it would roll and briskly, determinedly, strode toward the bridge.

  Estimating the distance as about a quarter of a mile away to the house from the bridge, she was still thankful she’d worn her favorite pair of Nikes instead of the strappy sandals she normally wore at home.

  Much like it had earlier, the oppressive feeling was still there, surrounding her, yet she tried to shake it away.

  A slight wind picked up, the overhead branches of the trees began to sway with the sudden breeze. She came to the bridge and hesitated, pulled the bottom rim of her lip between her top teeth and looked around.

  It seemed to have grown too dark too fast. The sun had quickly faded to nothing and the only thing lighting the path up ahead were a few old-fashioned-looking tall lanterns, along the edge of the road.

  Dominique stared ahead, reached between her breasts to clutch the charm now warming her skin, and uttered a short spell of protection. Although the oppressive feeling was still there, she felt lighter, some of the fear draining away. Inhaling a determined deep breath, she picked up her step and trudged on.

  ***

  A long-legged, lushly naked woman was straddling Bacclum’s body.

  Coming to a hazy semi-awareness, he pushed the hair from his eyes and raised his upper torso, glancing down. The ends of the woman’s long, curly hair were wrapped like silken fingers around his hips, embracing him, caressing his skin, as surely as her soft lips caressed his erect shaft.

  Her warm breath blew across his aroused flesh, and her lips, warm, wet and soft, suckled the underside of his cock. Her slick tongue stroked around the base of his shaft and she licked the thick vein that ran the length of his shaft from stem to root.

  “Who…what are you?” He could only rasp the words. What she was doing to him, the short flicks of her tongue up and down his cock, made all rational thought fly from his already foggy mind.

  She didn’t say a word, simply continued to lick and caress him, her head slowly bobbing up and down his shaft in hot, wicked undulations.

  He felt his dick grow and knew it would grow too big for her mouth if she continued to torment him as she was. Bacclum shut his eyes tightly and clenched his jaw until it ached.

  One part of his mind nagged at him the closer he came to orgasm. A buzzing, insistent nagging that he was hell bent on ignoring.

  It had been too long since he’d felt a woman’s caress…too long since…

  He groaned, exhaled a harsh breath, and grasped both sides of her head.

  His intent, despite the exquisite feel of her warm silken mouth on his dick, was to push her away. It took a moment for his mind to orient, for him to understand that something or someone had pulled him out of the book. And that someone was the one between his legs suckling his cock.

  His eyes shot wide open. “Fuck!” The expletive was ripped from him.

  The last time it happened he hadn’t been ready, hadn’t known what was going on, but this time he was ready for it. He reached down, grasped her shoulders and yanked her to him, forcing her head to snap back, ready to force her to help him out of the book. He stopped cold after one look at her.

  Sexual energy vibrated from her, hallowing her body in a sensual glow of power that was tangible. Stimulating, electrifying…she was earthy, raw, woman.

  Her dark hair, lush with wild curls, tumbled to her shoulders and beyond, partially obscuring her face. He reached a hand out and pushed her hair away from her face. She turned her head to the side as he observed her, transfixed. To say she was beautiful was too mild of a way to describe her.

  Her complexion was the color of deep honey, her skin appeared soft, silky…he ran the tips of his fingers down the side of her face.

  “So smooth,” he whispered.

  She drew back as though startled, her hair moving away from her face, her eyes widening as she focused on him.

  And that’s when he noticed her eyes. Large, they were slanted mildly in the corners, with dark, dense lashes that framed them, and so unlike any he’d ever seen throughout his long life, he inhaled a swift, disbelieving breath.

  The iris of one was the color of liquid amber, dark brown with a tiny dark ring surrounding the pupil. The other was the same colored iris, but the matching dark ring surrounded a horizontal pupil, like t
hat of a goat.

  When she reached a hand out to touch him, he flinched.

  “The eye of the demon,” he said, unknowingly aloud.

  Her expression shut down, instantly. Her earthy vibrancy seemed to dim, her body literally closed in on itself and she glanced away from him. But not before he caught the shine of unshed tears in her eyes.

  She sprang away and he put a hand on her arm, pulling her back to him.

  “No! Don’t leave. I didn’t mean…” He stopped. He didn’t know why he was trying to explain, or even what he was trying to explain. He only knew he didn’t want her to think he was rejecting her.

  The temporary spell holding them mesmerized vanished and with it, she pushed away from him, her strength surprising him, even as he lurched forward to grasp onto her.

  His hand closed around some type of medal suspended from around her neck, the medal searing his flesh. The unexpected pain made him snatch his hand away.

  She stood and glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes glistening. Before he could reach for her, her form began to shimmer, becoming nearly invisible.

  Bacclum fought against what he knew was coming next.

  He could feel it. Sweat poured from his body, dormant muscles screaming in agony as he concentrated all his will on just staying awake…aware.

  “Not this time,” he rasped.

  The first time it had happened, when he’d been drawn from that damnable book, he’d come close to getting out. He hadn’t known what or who had been the source of power that brought him to awareness, but in the end it hadn’t been enough.

  This time was different. He could feel it. This time he would fight like hell to stay aware.

  Before the woman could completely disappear, his jaw locked and he concentrated all of his considerable power into his hands.

  She gasped.

  “What are you doing?”

  He lurched forward with his last strength, grasped her around the waist, his hold on her unflinching, strong.

  “Say the words.”

  She struggled to pry him loose. “Wha…what words?” she gasped. “What are you talking about?”

  “Say the words, damn it!” Sweat poured from him, the amount of energy he was exerting was almost more than his body could take, caught between two worlds, not quite in the world of the book or the outer world. They were somewhere in-between, somewhere the witch had brought him.

  He didn’t know who she was, didn’t know if she knew where she was, but he was damned if he wasn’t going to hold on to her until she pulled him completely out.

  “Pe’, te ou, caw et me, pe’ te ou, caw et me… Say it!” he demanded, struggling to focus his waning power on maintaining his hold on her.

  Even as she struggled with him, he felt the power radiating from her body in hot waves, and the halo of power shrouding her fading form, vibrating, through the sweat obscuring his vision.

  “Please…” He closed his eyes and concentrated. With his mind reaching out to her through their physical connection, Bacclum felt strength flood his body, a renewed energy shoot through his veins.

  Pictures flowed in and out of his mind, in a kaleidoscope of images all surrounding Dominique.

  He saw her in his mind. Her life, who she was, what she was…her differences from those she called sister, the pain that her difference had caused her throughout her life.

  As a child at first, often playing alone, he saw her with her thin long arms wrapped around her equally skinny long legs, hugging herself as tears fell from her eyes after being mocked. As a young teen lying on her narrow twin bed, the images assailed him of her, absorbed in reading a book, alone. The images changed, shifted, and then he saw her as a young woman who, although she no longer showed the world her pain, it was still lodged deep in her chest, like a sharp arrow.

  Always hovering in the background was an older woman, one who Bacclum recognized as her mother, diligently watching the young girl as she matured into womanhood.

  One image bled to another, but more than the images were the emotions… Bacclum inhaled deeply, anger flooding him at the sheer isolation she felt, had felt, throughout her life of being different, her cries at night as a child growing up, being taunted for being different…always isolated, alone, even with her mother, he felt a sense of detachment—separateness, surrounding her.

  Just as suddenly as it started, it ended. The exchange, although he had seen her entire life, had been fleeting and had taken no more than minutes. Yet it took a tremendous toll on him, the last of his remaining strength fleeing.

  Bacclum opened his eyes and their gazes locked. He knew that just as he’d seen her life, who she was, she had also seen him during their exchange. Within the depths of her unique eyes, he saw the truth. No words were necessary, in fact none could really do justice to what he’d seen…what they’d both learned, about the other.

  It was as complete as it was devastating.

  Invasive, yet intimate.

  A moment of understanding swept between them, despite questions he knew she must have, confusion…her spirit had reached out to him during the exchange and they’d connected on levels he’d never imagined possible.

  She broke their visual connection. Too weak to stop her, he watched as she stumbled away, breaking free of him.

  Once free, she clasped the glowing amulet resting between her breasts with both hands. Despite the fear, he also saw a gleam of strength blaze brightly in her eyes.

  With her eyes on his she gripped the amulet tighter, and began chanting. She was speaking in no more than a loud whisper, yet he felt her words seek him out, right to the heart of him, and strike. The pain was as sudden as it was unexpected.

  Bacclum felt his remaining physical strength completely dissipate and his mind, which had been sharp and clear, moments earlier, again became cloudy and disorienting.

  “No!” he cried out.

  Before she could completely vanish, and with her he knew his key to escape the hell he’d been bound to for a century or more, she glanced at him one last time.

  “Come back for me, Dominique.”

  Chapter Three

  “Come back for me, Dominique…”

  Dominique shot straight up in bed, her eyes bursting open, his deep voice ringing sharply in her ears.

  With her heart pounding viciously, she frantically glanced around the dark room, placing her hand over her heart, searching for the man from her dreams.

  “Oh God, what in the hell just happened?” she whispered, feeling as though she had in fact just came straight out of hell as beads of sweat trickled past her hairline, down the side of her face.

  She swallowed the lump wedged deep in her throat and reached trembling fingers to grasp the necklace around her neck.

  The dream had seemed so real, so vividly real. She ran shaky fingers over her lips and pulled the bottom rim of her lips into her mouth.

  She could still feel the taste of him.

  Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes, the unique smell of the man rising sharply in her nose, the feel of his shaft against her lips imbedded deep in her mind. The way his thighs, so thickly muscled, tensed beneath her fingers…

  She raised shaky hands to brush her hair away from her eyes. It all seemed so real.

  “It was only a dream,” she murmured aloud, ignoring the taunting inner voice that called her a liar.

  “What else could it be?” She laughed shakily, wondering who she was talking to even as she knew she needed to speak, even if it was only to reassure herself that it had all been some crazy dream.

  But the connection when he’d touched her had been so real. She’d seen him, his entire life, who he was, what he was, had flashed in her mind, frame by frame as though she were viewing a movie. The knowledge of who he was had rained down on her in a torrential flood, yet, when she’d disconnected from him, she knew that only minutes had transpired.

  With her heart still pounding, she glanced around the room, looking for him. When she realized she
was alone and her mind slowly oriented to where she was, she inhaled a deep, steadying breath.

  “It was just a dream,” she murmured aloud. As soon as she uttered the words, she felt like a fool.

  Her last memories before succumbing to sleep were of crossing the metal framed bridge leading to the property once the cabby had sped away.

  Growing up as a member of one of the most powerful covens in North America, including the rogue covens, there was no way in hell she would dismiss the oddness of the interaction with the cabby. Nor was she about to discount the unwelcoming feeling she’d experienced driving toward the mansion, as a part of her imagination.

  Yet she’d doggedly trudged ahead, forcing fear to the recesses of her mind as she’d walked the last distance.

  As she’d continued her walk, the closer she’d come to the mansion, the less oppressive the feeling had been, so that by the time she’d reached the estate, she’d forced the entire experience out of her mind.

  When she’d reached the somewhat ominous-looking front door, she’d used the key she’d been given.

  Once inside, she’d left her bags in the foyer. “Thank goodness,” she’d murmured when she’d located a switch and light flooded the entry.

  “Hello, anybody here?” she’d called out, walking further inside. She’d felt crazy as hell when nothing but the sound of her own voice echoed back at her. “Guess it’s just me.”

  According to the cryptic message she’d received from the solicitor she was aware that she hadn’t been the only one named a benefactor in her father’s will—so had two other women.

  Curious, she’d walked around, familiarizing herself with the house, in awe of its utter beauty. Everything was immaculately kept, from the dark cherry-wood furniture gleaming as though recently polished, to the hardwood floors shined, buffed to a high sheen. She’d run her fingers over the furniture, her glance taking everything in.

  It was well manicured, as though someone was still living there, although according to the missive from the solicitor, Jean-Paul had been dead for over six months and no one had occupied the premises since.