Retribution (Book 3 of The Dominion Series)

by Lund, S. E.

  "Soren's compelled you," I say once more, swept up in his lust. Part of me almost laughs at how Julien is responding, but it's not funny. Each time I say it, he's more desperate.

  He rips my pants off, my panties almost disintegrating in his grip, and has my thighs spread and his mouth on me before I can barely blink. I run my fingers through his hair as he licks and sucks me, and when we join, I feel just how desperate he is to make me come and to fuck me. It won't take him but a few thrusts to do so once he enters me.

  "Julien, Soren's compelled you," I say again, barely able to speak from the overwhelming need I feel from him.

  "Fuck!" he growls and fumbles with his belt buckle and zipper, shoving himself inside of me, thrusting while he props himself up on his elbows, his face over mine, kissing me. "Oh, fuck Eve, fuck…"

  He comes, gasping in my ear and his orgasm brings on my own. I almost pass out from the intensity of both our sensations.

  He lies on top of me, breathing deeply, his lips pressed against his bite mark.

  "Julien," I say, swallowing hard, struggling to recover myself. "Soren's compelled you to think he's innocent."

  "Fuck," he says, and I feel him harden inside of me. "What's going on, Eve? You're insatiable tonight…"

  "Soren's compelled you to think he's innocent."

  "God, Eve, whatever it is, I love it."

  He starts thrusting again, and I let him. I whisper the words it in his ear over and over again until he comes, grunting in my ear.

  That bastard.

  Later, after we've had a shower, we sit in our towels by the window, me on his lap, his arms around me and I feed from his neck the way he likes.

  The blood takes away my physical need, and I'm sated from my earlier orgasm and sharing his second one that I don't feel a need to fuck him as I usually do after I feed.

  "I don't know what got into you tonight," he says to me, kissing me, brushing hair off my cheek. "But it was good."

  I shake my head and run my fingers over his mouth. "You got into me. Twice."

  He grins that characteristic de Cernay grin and my heart does a little flip flop. When we lie down, he's asleep in moments and I lie awake, my mind unable to shut off from the effects of our combined orgasms and the blood.

  I wonder what game Soren is playing with us. Whatever it is, I can't even talk to Julien about it without him getting all randy and shutting me up with his mouth. I realize that was Soren's intent. He's probably smirking to himself, knowing that I'll be unable to convince anyone of what I know to be the truth.

  I sigh and snuggle into Julien's embrace, closing my eyes in the hopes that sleep will finally claim me, wondering what this trip will bring.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "The heart was made to be broken."

  Oscar Wilde

  We take the interstate up the east coast, on our way to a small coastal town near Salem where the most recent murder took place.

  While Julien drives, I’m in the back seat, reading files on the Blackstone Group that the SCU has amassed over the years. The file contains bits and pieces of intelligence they’ve been able to glean from captive Adepts and humans who worked for Blackstone and were either turned to our side or were killed.

  Julien yells something from the front seat, but I can’t hear because Joshua Bell is playing Vivaldi on my iPod, giving me shivers. I pull out my ear buds.

  “What did you say?”

  “We’re almost there.” He points to the GPS screen on the dashboard. “Just making sure you’re ready. I have enemies everywhere and so we have to be on guard. I don't expect trouble but you never know.”

  I smile and hold up my stake and pistol loaded with silver bullets when I see his reflection in the rear view mirror, doing my best to channel Will Smith in Independence Day.

  “Locked and loaded, and whatever it is you say when you use a stake.”

  “Sharp and pointed?” Julien says. When he sees my smile, he shakes his head, smiling back.

  He’s listening to jazz on satellite radio. "What is this?" I say, pointing to the radio on the dashboard.

  "The Köln Concert by Keith Jarrett."

  I’m not much of a jazz fan but I turn off my iPod. This I like.

  I stuff a handful of bullets in my vest pocket. I never saw myself as a gun-toting vampire killer. I thought I'd be more like my mother – research scientist searching for a medical silver bullet, but this is fun.

  While Julien sits with one arm out the open window, the wind blowing his dark hair around, I check my pistol. We’re entering into some other vampire’s territory and if confronted, will have to make a show of obeisance despite the fact that Julien is perhaps the second most powerful vampire out there next to Michel. Above him, there are only Ancients. I lean forward onto the seat and wonder how it will go when we meet our first vampire.

  "Won't the local vampires know you from your car? It's not very forgettable."

  "Any vampires in town will know who I am no matter what," he says. "What they won't know is where my loyalties lie. Always keep them guessing, I say." Then he frowns. "Put your seatbelt back on."

  I knock him on the shoulder and sit back, strapping myself in.

  We pull up to a motel on the edge of Davis Cove just after nine. Julien registers us, and hauls our suitcases and file boxes into the room. We get settled in, and then Julien takes off his boots and jacket before pulling out his laptop. I brush my teeth and get into my nightgown, the local paper in hand to read over the news coverage of the series of murders that the SCU is investigating. They’re part of the same case as those in Boston. Soren’s really shaking things up.

  We'll visit the local Sheriff's office tomorrow and meet our Council contact – the Sheriff himself – and look for potential cases. Tonight, Julien will check around in the bars and backstreets, looking for vampires who might be connected to the Blackstone Group and he’ll meet up with his contacts. Then we’ll decide what our next move is.

  While Julien works on his laptop, downloading information so he can check out the most likely hangouts, I read the paper about the murders. There are several articles covering the coroner's report and on personal safety. If this latest death is a vampire kill, officials will claim it’s due to the sick serial killer in Boston.

  I read over the file Vasquez prepared. This case is different because the victims are all female, decapitated, drained and dumped on the beach. Soren is sending a message loud and clear. They were all young Adepts, same age as me, part of the new batch the Council created. He’s picking them off because he knows we’re meant to fight against Dominion.

  Why hasn't he killed me? I can't talk to Julien about this unless I want to get him all excited. I have to figure this out myself.

  “Anything in the paper?” Julien leans back in his chair and cranes his neck to see me on the bed, his blue eyes intent.

  “Lame coverage of the serial case,” I say and shake my head. “They’re calling him Vlad.”

  Finally sleepy, I put the newspaper down, pull the covers up to my chin and turn my back to Julien, who’s checking something out on the web. If I feed now, I won't be able to go to sleep for a while but I have an early morning. I wonder how long I can go without his blood. Maybe I'll wait for him to return from his stalking and feed then.

  "You going to sleep for a while?" he says, glancing over at me.

  I nod. "Wake me when you get back in."

  I don’t even hear him leave.

  Some hours later, it’s still pitch-black out, but I hear him return and open my eyes. With my night vision, I watch him move around the room, taking off his jacket and scarf, his sweater, his shoes and socks. Then, I hear him washing his face and then brushing his teeth in the bathroom. He comes to the bed and stands beside me for a moment, as if listening for my breathing. Finally, he reaches down and pulls the covers up over my shoulder and goes to the bar fridge to get out a bottle of blood. He likes to drink before he feeds me so he doesn’t feel as tempted.

/>   The clock reads 4:30 a.m. The sun will rise in a couple of hours. It feels strange not to have him in bed beside me, but for some reason, he’s staying up, talking softly on the phone to someone. His voice, deep and warm, fails to lull me back to sleep because of the ache that's building in me.

  When he ends the call, tapping his cell's screen, I sit up.

  "Julien, I need you."

  He's there, beside me on the bed in a second. I rest my hand on his bare chest and can feel his heart start to beat faster under my touch at the thought of feeding me. This never fails to arouse him, this need I have for his blood. It makes him breathless and his excitement feeds my own.

  "I wish you could bite me," he whispers in my ear when he pulls me against him. "Bite my neck. Bite my groin when you need to feed on me."

  "Julien," I say, surprised at this admission, a little titillated by his thoughts. "I'd have to be a vampire to do that."

  "It's the most erotic thing of all, to feed another vampire. To feed each other."

  “Why?”

  “Mutual blood lust. Like sexual desire and addiction all mixed up into one. Joining with another vampire while you both feed…”

  His sexual lust fills me, his thoughts of other vampires he's fucked before surfacing, his memories so real they make me almost pass out just from the sensations.

  "Oh, God," I say and pull away from him, trying to block out his memories because they're too powerful. "I never want to be a vampire."

  "I know," he says, and his voice sounds as if he’s hurt. "It's horrible. The bloodlust is rarely ever fully slaked. You don't want it. Being a blood slave is nothing compared to it."

  "Don't ever let me become a vampire," I say, my voice breaking. "I'd rather die. Kill me first, Julien. I mean it."

  He brushes my hair from my cheek.

  "OK."

  But I see into his mind – a brief flash of resistance to that idea. He won't kill me if it happens. He'll let me become a vampire and then enjoy me the way he really desires. He doesn't want me to ever die.

  I block him from my mind, shut him out.

  "Julien," I say, angered. "Never. I'm mortal. I want to stay that way, even if it means I die."

  He says nothing. Just pulls me into his lap and prepares to open a seam on his neck for me but I stop him, pulling his hand back, pushing away from him. I sit beside him on the bed.

  "Your wrist."

  "No," he says, his voice soft but insistent. "Don’t do this. I love it when you feed from my neck."

  "I don't want to be a vampire," I say, trying to sound as firm as I can. "You're going to have to promise me, truthfully, that you won't let it happen, or no more neck. Just wrist."

  "Eve," he says, exasperation in his voice. "You're so cruel. I can’t help how I feel.”

  “You can promise not to let me become a vampire, despite how you feel.”

  He doesn’t say anything and I can feel his frustration. “You can’t make me promise that, Eve. I can’t promise. I’d do anything to save your life.”

  “There are things worse than death.”

  “You sound like Michel,” he says. “Believe me, death is worse because it’s eternal. Pain you can tolerate because it ends. Loneliness? It passes eventually. You can always start over every day. Being a vampire? It’s bad. It’s a curse but it’s beautiful as well because you get to see so much, experience so much. But death? It’s forever.”

  He takes my face in his hands and strokes my cheek with his thumb.

  “You have to know that I’d turn you to save you. I wouldn’t let you die. I won’t let you die. Thing about vampires? We live forever, but those we love, we love forever. It’s why Soren can’t let go. He loved Marguerite. He’ll never get over her death.”

  “I didn’t think he could love anyone.”

  “You’d be wrong. He loved her. He loves Michel.”

  “Michel?”

  “Oh, yes. Soren tried to hate him, but can’t.”

  “I thought he hated Michel for killing Marguerite and staked you to torture him.”

  “No, the opposite. He staked me to get Michel on his side.”

  “Michel said Soren wanted him as his Pope.” I glance at his face to see his response. “And you as his warlord.”

  Julien nods and brushes my hair away from my neck.

  “He has plans. We’ll use those plans to get to him one day. But now, we’ve got to keep after Blackstone. I have a feeling Vasquez has sent us here for a reason.”

  I watch his face for a while, entranced once more by his beauty, his large expressive blue eyes, his brows, the square jaw covered in a few days growth of beard. And the fact he has no idea he’s been compelled.

  “Julien, I don’t want you to ever make me a vampire.”

  “Eve, I love you. Don’t ask me to make that promise. I can’t.”

  “Fine,” I say and pull away from him. “Give me your wrist.”

  He does without hesitation, no more argument in him. He’s already run a nail across his vein so that blood drips from the wound. I drink, a mouthful and then two. It’s enough to satisfy me and I hand his wrist back and he licks the wound to heal it.

  Then I lie down on the bed and pull the covers up, my back to him, the endorphins already making me feel warm. With his blood in my system, I can feel his sadness from a distance and it softens my heart towards him.

  “It’s really sweet of you to care enough to want to turn me, Julien,” I say, “but it’s the very last thing I’d want, considering what happened to my mother.”

  He says nothing, but I hear him finish undressing. He gets under the covers and lays without touching me. On my part, the blood is starting to work its magic and warmth spreads from my stomach to my groin and I feel a need to fuck him that I can’t deny. I dig my nails into my palm in an attempt to block the lust from building, and to keep Julien from sensing it.

  “I already know,” he says and sighs. “Why are you so damn stubborn? Why don’t you want me?”

  “It’s the blood, Julien.” I breathe deeply to try to gain control over myself. “Nothing else. Besides it’s really late. We have to work later. I need to sleep.”

  He's silent for a moment but he almost squirms on the bed beside me.

  “You won’t mind if I just take matters into my own hand, will you?” he says, his voice all breathy. “You may not need it, but I have this, well, not quite little, problem.”

  I don’t say anything for a moment, a bit in shock. Is he going to masturbate while he lies beside me?

  The covers rustle and then I think I can hear the sound of fabric on fabric and the bed moves beside me. Is he removing his briefs? I swear I can hear the sound of his hands stroking over his own naked skin and his breath is a bit ragged. I can’t help but respond to the thought that he’s going to give himself an orgasm beside me. I’ve never seen a man do it to completion.

  I want to watch.

  “Yes, you can,” he says and of course, he’s reading my mind. “I’d like you to.”

  I reach over and switch on the light and he’s there in all his naked beauty, one hand on his very nice and thick cock and the other between his thighs, touching himself. I lean over him, my gaze moving over his body, from his face, to his neck and chest, to his hands on himself. He’s touching himself lightly, but he’s hard as a rock.

  “Care to donate some saliva?” he says and stops.

  “You want me to spit on you?”

  He grins, his eyes closed. “Please.”

  I lean closer and gather up some saliva and let it drop onto the head. He uses it to lubricate his hand, which he slides over the head, then circles his shaft with his fingers and strokes, fast for a dozen or so strokes and then slow.

  “More,” he says, and I comply, half amused and half aroused.

  “You don’t use a lubricant?”

  “I prefer the natural kind. Especially when you provide it.”

  “How long does it take?”

  “You’ve nev
er seen a man masturbate before?”

  I shake my head. “I saw a grainy video once but it was just a clip. Nothing in person.”

  “Oh, God, Eve…” he says, closing his eyes. “Another first.”

  He alternates speed, stroking fast for a while, then he stops, squeezing the head so that more of his fluid seeps out, which he uses as lubricant. His eyes are closed for most of the time, but then he opens them and glances over at me.

  “Pull down your nightgown,” he says, his voice husky. “Show me your breasts.”

  I comply without a thought, for it seems logical. Of course, he’d want to see my breasts.

  The sight of my bare breasts spurs him on to a series of rapid strokes during which he squeezes himself around the head.

  “Touch them,” he says. “Make your nipples hard.”

  I do, enjoying his response, his eyes narrowing, his breathing increasing.

  “More saliva,” he instructs and I don’t hesitate. He has his beautiful cock grasped in his hand, the other hand touching between his legs, and he’s tense, his muscles taut.

  “Spread your legs,” he orders. “Show me your pussy.”

  I do, propping one of my legs over his so that he can see me. Men are so visual. Seeing me with my breasts bared, my thighs spread, elicits a flurry of rapid strokes over his shaft, his upper body tensing. I think he’s close, just from the speed, but I have no idea.

  “Spread your pussy open,” he says. “Let me see your pink.”

  “My pink?” I frown, unfamiliar with the term. “What do you mean?”

  “Spread your inner lips. I want to see your pink. See you wet.”

  I do and he exhales heavily, his eyes greedy for me.

  “Touch yourself,” he says, his voice shaking. “Rub your clit.”

  “Aren’t you all bossy,” I say, amused but at the same time, aroused.

  “You love it, Eve,” he says and he’s right. I do. “Now, wet your fingers and touch your clit. Rub it for me.”

  I slip my fingers in my mouth slowly and suck them with exaggerated sounds. This seems to please him. I make them very wet and then I slip them between my labia and stroke.