Blood Revealed

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “Did I wake you?”

  Dominic shut the door behind her. “I couldn’t sleep. Don’t worry about it.”

  An older model laptop sat on the desk under the window. The image showing on the screen caught her eye. “Is that you?” She was drawn closer by the strangeness of the picture. It was a photo, taken inside some sort of theater, for there were spotlights in the background, one of them giving a starburst of light that shot across the top corner of the photo.

  A big grand piano with its lid propped open filled the foreground. Sitting at it was Dominic. A very different Dominic. He wore a bowtie, one of the stiff white ones, a starchy white shirt and a jacket that had shiny lapels. He was clean-shaven and his hair was slicked back so the unruly locks didn’t fall forward over his forehead like they did now.

  There was a ferocious air about him as he focused on his hands and the word that came to Blythe was “genius”.

  “That was me in another life,” Dominic said softly by her shoulder. “They did call me a genius, too. That is all gone now.”

  “Because of your hearing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why were you looking at it?”

  “I just reminded someone that there’s no going back. I thought it was worth reminding myself of that, too.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” His head tilted. Then he smiled. “Ah. Good, because you don’t want to waste time on memory trips.”

  “I knew your mind-reading was useful,” Blythe said. Kiss me, she added, deliberately not speaking it aloud. Her whole body leapt at the command, bracing itself.

  “Yes, you will like it,” he breathed and pressed his lips against her.

  It had been too long since she had been kissed. She realized she had never been kissed like this. A wave of longing rippled through her as if her body was waking up. It was so intense, she could barely breathe or stop herself from reaching out, tearing away clothes and drawing him to her.

  “No, no rushing,” Dominic murmured against her lips.

  He pulled her against him with a firmness that pressed her full length against his. Heat, strength and a masculine scent washed over her and she groaned.

  She could feel his cock against her stomach, a hard ridge of heated flesh. It felt good and she wanted more. She desperately wanted to be taken, to be used. Yet to give herself over like that meant a man had the control…and anyone but her having full control scared her….

  “Hey,” he said softly, forcing her to open her eyes.

  His black gaze was bare inches from hers.

  “You’re safe with me.”

  “I don’t want to be safe with you.”

  “You just want to be you, afterward.”

  Her breath caught. “Yes,” she breathed. He had put his finger on it exactly.

  Dominic nodded. “Nothing changes,” he muttered and kissed her again. He didn’t hold back. She could feel his passion flare and this time he let it loose.

  His mouth was everywhere, heated lips on her flesh. His hands moved ahead, easing her clothes aside to give him access, until she shrugged out of her sweater impatiently and unclipped her bra.

  He took her hand and drew her to the bed, but stopped her from lying on it. “Wait,” he breathed. He unfastened her jeans and stripped them from her, taking her panties as he went. Her boots and socks were pushed off at the same time, leaving her naked.

  And he was still fully clothed.

  Her heart shuddered in her chest and her pussy throbbed.

  Dominic fitted his hands around her waist and lifted her up until she was almost off her feet. She found herself leaning back to compensate and that raised her breasts up to him.

  “Yes,” he agreed with a growl, “it does.”

  The touch of his lips was magical, firing streaks of pleasure through her body. He sucked the tip of her breast into his mouth as his teeth scraped over the nipple and his tongue lapped at the end. The delight was almost an agony and she groaned, losing herself in the building desire. It had been too long and she wasn’t sure she would last, yet she wanted to stay this way, feel this way, for much longer than she could.

  She realized she was sitting on the bed and Dominic was pushing at her shoulder, to make her lie down. She let him press her down. He didn’t follow her or try to lie over her.

  Instead, he firmly spread her thighs apart.

  A hot thrill leapt through her. “What are you doing?”

  His smile was his answer. She knew for certain as he eased her thigh far out of the way and threaded his shoulder under the other.

  “No. I mean I never…”

  “I know.” He dipped his head and his lips fastened on her mound. His hot tongue slid up against her lips, probing. She rolled her head back as the groan ripped through her throat, hard and good. Her climax leapt and swelled, as he pressed his tongue up against her clit, stroking it with a firm softness that was mind-blowing. He seemed to know exactly where the most sensitive point was.

  Of course he did, she reminded herself.

  Then his fingers nudged inside her, her pussy making slick sounds against his flesh. The little invasion was a silvered, delightful shock, stealing her thoughts.

  She began to pant as the climax gripped her. She was helpless, unable to do anything except ride it out. She couldn’t even speak. Didn’t want to.

  With a shuddering, gasping cry, she came. Her whole body locked up, the muscles snapping taut, as the climax throbbed through her, making every nerve sizzle. Even her throat strained. She pulsed with it, her breath stolen for long, sweetly agonizing minutes.

  When she could breathe and move once more, the pleasure ebbing slowly from her limbs, Dominic finally pulled himself up next to her. His eyes were sleepy with pleasure. “Now you will last.”

  Blythe stripped him slowly, letting her mouth trail where she wanted. Underneath the plain white tee shirt, he was as well-muscled as his arms had hinted he would be. The flesh was paler there and there was a scar just under the left nipple. “Another bar fight?” she murmured.

  “I won that one.” His voice rumbled in his chest.

  She snagged the button of his jeans with her fingers and watched as his stomach muscles quivered in anticipation. Even though she was back to writhing with impatience, she moved slowly, teasing him. It took her a long minute to slide the zipper down and long before she had, his cock appeared, the tip pulsing against his flesh.

  She breathed on it, bathing the flesh with heat.

  He drew in a ragged breath.

  Then she pulled his jeans off. He was already barefoot, so the jeans were the last piece of clothing.

  Blythe climbed back onto the bed and prepared to straddle him. Before she could do more than raise her knee, Dominic sat up. “No, no, no. You get the control back afterward.” He flipped her as if she weighed nothing and pinned her wrists down under his hands. He dipped and kissed her. “This is better.”

  Much better. She could only make the admission silently. She knew he heard her.

  He parted her knees with his own and Blythe raised her legs to grip his hips with her thighs, as his cock pressed against her. She was so slippery with moisture that he pushed inside her without resistance, sliding up to the hilt in one long, smooth stroke.

  For a moment he held there, pressed up over the top of her, his cock buried deep. It was exquisite.

  He began to rock inside her, in and out, his hips working and Blythe’s eyes drifted closed. This was better than anything she ever remembered.

  Dominic kept his pace steady, working her body, making her respond. His cock sliding up against the walls of her pussy was stroking the nerve ends, just as his pelvis kissing her clit was stirring the nub back to life.

  She began to writhe under him as her climax gathered. This time it seemed to be building from much deeper, threatened to be much greater. It was stealing her breath, even as she tried to moan.

  Dominic was thrusting hard. His breath was ragged and he was controlling the asc
ent, making it build slowly.

  The power of the coming climax was almost frightening.

  He held it off. Of course, he could read her mind and knew when she was reaching the point of no return. He played her body and orchestrated her pleasure, letting it build then sink, then build a little higher.

  She jittered apart beneath him, her body clenching around him helplessly, which only drove the excitement higher. Her attention narrowed down to his body in hers and what it was doing to her.

  Her climax didn’t burst over her like the last one had. It erupted from deep within her, tearing at her nerves and sinews, gripping and releasing in bone-deep waves of pleasure.

  She screamed, her throat straining, as it pummeled her senses and her vision faded under the onslaught. Distantly, she heard Dominic give a harsh, low cry as he came. His body stiffened against hers and held still, shuddering, until he relaxed and fell against her.

  * * * * *

  Sebastian found him in the formal front lounge with its carefully arranged armchairs and untouched tables. Patrick stood looking out the window, holding the lace curtain aside.

  Sebastian went right up to him. “They’re not flaunting it,” he said earnestly. “They’ve forgotten how much we can hear.”

  Patrick didn’t move. “That doesn’t change the fact.”

  Sebastian squeezed his shoulder, then left him alone. After all, he was right. Nothing changed the fact.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dominic could tell when Blythe’s attention returned to her normal world. She almost stiffened in his arms.

  “What’s the time?” she asked and he could hear that she was trying to sound casual. Indifferent.

  He turned her chin toward him and stroked her cheek. “Nothing changes, remember? You get to be yourself again, now.”

  She let out a breath. “And my kids will freak if I’m not home when they get there.”

  He glanced at the laptop screen, which was still live. “Twenty-three after one.”

  “Crap.” She launched herself out of the bed. “It takes an hour and a half to get back. They get out at three.”

  “And they have to walk home. You have time.”

  “A little,” she agreed, thrusting her long legs into the jeans.

  “You have the most beautiful legs I have ever seen. And I have seen dancers all over the world turning on theirs.”

  She gave him a small smile and hopped as she tugged the zipper closed, then bent and picked up her sweater. The bra was tangled up in it, so she separated them with a hard tug and tossed the bra.

  Dominic lifted himself up and rested his head on his hand. “Is that my souvenir?”

  “I don’t have a bag to hide it in and I’m not walking through the house with it in my hand.” She pushed her head through the neck of the sweater and brushed her hair out of her eyes, then bent and pushed her feet into her boots. The socks stayed on the floor.

  “Hey,” he said softly, as he read the growing panic in her. “You’re fine. Text them to let them know you’ll be late. They’re all sensible kids. They’ll cope if you’re not there for fifteen minutes.”

  Blythe relaxed. He could read it and see it in the slump of her shoulders. “You’re right,” she agreed and gave him an effortful smile. She zipped up the other boot, then came over to him and sat on the edge of the bed. “Thanks.” She pressed her hand against the sheet. Somewhere among all the writhing, the cover had slid to the floor. “Thanks for this,” she clarified.

  He touched her temple. “I know what you mean.”

  She bit her lip.

  “Nothing changes,” he reminded her. “Unless you want it to.”

  This time her smile was more relaxed and natural. “Are you coming out to hunt tonight?”

  “Aren’t you worried that the hatching season is still going?”

  “Winter says no. The swarm was too intense. If they can’t find hibernating Summarettes or whole eggs still to hatch—and they can’t—then it’s a sure thing the season is over.” She got to her feet. “One night is enough, anyway.” She went over to the door, put her hand on the handle and looked at him. “And you can say nothing changes till you’re blue in the face, but the reason you’re here right now is because there’s no going back for anyone, including me and most especially you. I know I didn’t misunderstand that one.”

  Dominic felt a chill slide into his stomach. His smile died.

  He heard her say goodbye and the door latch shut again. He was too busy dealing with the kick to his gut to do more than notice.

  * * * * *

  This time, when she passed through the big living room, Patrick was there. He was sitting in an armchair pulled up by the window and was gazing out of it, his elbow on the arm and his fingers pressing against his temple.

  “Oh, hey. Hi!” She went toward him.

  Patrick turned to look at her and the expression on his face was enough to halt her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed. “You look like death warmed over.”

  “We are the undead, after all.” Even his voice was a hollowed-out shell.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  He swallowed. Then he shook his head. “Nothing. It’s…acting crap. I just had my nose rubbed in the fact that Hollywood still hates me.”

  “No, they’re scared of you,” Blythe assured him. “Give them time to come to grips with everything you dumped on them. It’s a lot to take in.”

  “You’ve adjusted,” he pointed out.

  “I’m not Hollywood.” She gave him her warmest smile. “Thank you, by the way, for what you did last night.”

  “I’m glad Winter could help…and others. I can see the difference in you from here.”

  “There’s still a way to go yet.” She tapped her temple. “Next time I’m up the sharp end, my reptile brain will try to take over again. Winter said she’d help whenever I needed it. And honestly, I’ve never felt so great. It’s stunning how beaten down you can get without noticing, isn’t it?”

  Patrick sighed. “Yes, life has a way of reminding you of your place in it.”

  She frowned. “Huh?”

  He stood and smiled at her. It was a sunny expression and reminded her abruptly of all his movies, that flittered through her mind like a rolodex on high speed. “Never mind,” he told her. He glanced at the heavy watch on his wrist. “Don’t you need to get back home? The kids will be out of school by the time you get there.”

  “Right. Yes.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Thank God for technology.” She waved it at him and dug her car keys out of her hip pocket. “Bye!”

  “Goodbye, Blythe,” he said, behind her.

  * * * * *

  Dominic appeared downstairs two hours later. He was freshly showered and smelled heavenly.

  Patrick forced himself to stay in the chair. His heart was beating on its own and gaining speed.

  Dominic noticed him as he headed for the kitchen door and slowed his steps. Just like Blythe had. The little furrow appeared between his brows that said he was thinking hard.

  Or aroused, Patrick’s mind whispered.

  “Ah,” Dominic said softly and there was regret in his voice. “You know.”

  “I know,” Patrick agreed.

  Dominic sighed. He didn’t apologize, or try to explain. He just stood there, letting the fact sit between them like the indigestible truth it was.

  “You’d better go and eat,” Patrick said. “Your stomach is rumbling.”

  Dominic hesitated.

  Patrick didn’t need to mind read to see his indecision. “Go,” he said. Then he dredged up the same sunny mood he had used with Blythe. “You’ll need the calories tonight.”

  “You’re going out with the others?”

  “I am a vampire hunter for real now,” he said, letting the irony twist his tone. He had once played a vampire hunter, but that character had hunted vampires for a living. Instead, he was now a living vampire, hunting the Others.

&nbs
p; “Be careful,” Dominic said. There was real worry in his voice. “The Summanus are tricky bastards.”

  Patrick had no intention of being careful.

  It was his very first night of hunting. By sunrise, he had caught and killed ten Summani and was ready for more. Only the daylight stopped him. Daylight and Sebastian and Nial dragging him back to the car.

  Hunting was better than drinking, he had discovered.

  And it was much better than sitting around, thinking.

  * * * * *

  Dominic usually parked his old Jeep outside the front of Blythe’s house whenever they went hunting together, so after the hunt, one of the local squad dropped them both back there.

  The hunting tonight had been subdued and unsuccessful. Everyone had been watching out for Summarette swarms and everyone was thinking about Peter, who hadn’t survived the hatching.

  Just after midnight, when they congregated at the front of the sub-station, a common meeting place for them after splitting up into pairs, Blythe sighed. “We should probably call it a night. No one really has their mind on the job tonight, including me.”

  There was a small silence. After the injuries from the hatching had grounded some of them, the group now consisted of five beside Dominic and Blythe. There was a husband and wife team, Angela and Bruce Davidson. Peter’s next door neighbor, Sarah, was good with a long knife and she was short enough to duck under a Summani’s swinging elbows and jab upward. She had partnered Peter most nights. Tonight she was moving stiffly, recovering from the bites she had gotten before Peter had shoved her into a nearby car.

  Blythe’s next door neighbors, Harry and Jim, worked together, too. They were the most inexperienced out of everyone, so they were training during the day, determined to make a difference.

  Everyone looked at the ground, shifting on their feet, at the oblique reminder of Peter’s death.

  Then Sarah looked up. “Peter’s wife wants to join the squad.”

  Dominic glanced at Blythe. He knew she was uncomfortable with any analogy to military ops. Calling this loose knit group a squad was a sure way to irritate her.

  Blythe merely shrugged. “If she thinks she can handle his sword, she’s welcome. She knows the risks better than any of us.” Even Blythe sounded tired.