by Lynsay Sands
Four
Domitian carried Sarita upstairs before slowing and then it was only to look around the office they were now in. The moment he spotted the open door into what appeared to be a living room, he headed that way, only to stop once through it.
"A bathroom?" he asked.
Instead of answering, Sarita glowered at him and demanded, "Put me down."
Snorting at the suggestion, Domitian glanced around again. This time he spotted a door farther along the wall and instinctively headed that way. He didn't bother to ask Sarita to turn the doorknob for him when he reached it. Half-suspecting she'd refuse anyway, he released the hold he had on her legs and reached out to open it himself, leaving her weight to balance on his arm without his hand to hold her in place. It only took a second and then he was carrying her into the room.
As his gaze slid over the sitting area, table for two, and bed, Domitian at first thought he'd made the wrong choice. His footsteps slowed, but then he spotted the long counter with double sinks through the door to the right of the bed. He continued forward more quickly now, carrying her into an opulent white bathroom and right up to the sink counter where he set her down between the two sinks.
Sarita hadn't said a word since demanding to be put down. She'd merely glowered at him, her hands tight around her knives, her expression suggesting she'd like to plunge the lot of them into his face.
Half-afraid she'd do just that, he tried for a soothing tone. "I will not harm you."
A snort slid from her lips and her fingers tightened around the knives. "Damned right you won't."
"I am just going to remove the glass from your foot and tend to your injuries," Domitian continued, ignoring her rude response. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, "Okay?"
"I can do it myself," she snapped.
"It will be easier if I do it," Domitian argued and dropped to kneel in front of her. He took her foot in hand to examine it.
"It's the other one," Sarita said at once, her tone dry and sharp.
"Of course," he muttered and quickly switched feet. Raising it so he could better see the bottom, Domitian tried to concentrate on the job at hand and ignore the sweet smell of her blood. It was hard, though, when all he wanted to do was lick if off her, and that desire had nothing to do with hunger, at least not the hunger for blood. He'd had enough blood to fight whatever had been used up trying to combat the drugs he'd been given. His hunger now was purely for the woman before him. She was independent and feisty and sexy as hell sitting there in that damned gown.
His eyes wandered from Sarita's bloody foot to the trails of blood on her legs and followed one up under the gossamer cloth of her nightgown. It led all the way up her calf to her thigh, and up it to the sliced skin just below the strap of the thong she wore.
She may as well be wearing only the thong for all the protection the gown offered, he thought with disgruntlement. But he found himself licking his lips as his gaze slid between the blood trails and that pure white triangle of cloth, the only thing preventing him from having a perfect view of her--
"There are tweezers in the makeup table."
Domitian's eyes immediately shot to her face and he could tell she'd noticed where he'd been looking.
"I will tend to the cuts after I see to the foot," he announced as if that's what had held his attention. He suspected she wouldn't fall for the ruse, though. His voice had been raspy with a desire he couldn't hide.
Domitian set her foot down and stood to move to the makeup table she'd mentioned. A quick search produced tweezers still in their packaging, which he broke open as he moved back to Sarita.
"I will try not to hurt you," Domitian promised as he knelt in front of her and reclaimed her foot.
Sarita merely nodded, but he couldn't help noticing the way her hands tightened around those knives of hers again. It made him release her foot and straighten.
"What are you doing now?" she asked suspiciously.
"I would rather not be stabbed should I inadvertently hurt you while removing the glass," Domitian said simply and then waited.
When Sarita stared at him suspiciously, not setting down the knives, he found a little exasperation of his own.
"They are really quite useless to you as a weapon anyway. It would not kill me if you stabbed me."
"Maybe, but I bet it still hurts," she said grimly.
"Yes. Which is why I would rather avoid it," Domitian said pointedly, and then added stiffly, "You are my life mate, Sarita. Dr. Dressler may not have told you this, but an immortal would never willingly harm a life mate. However, unless you want to continue to hop around like a crazed bunny, I need to get that glass out of your foot, and may unintentionally hurt you doing so. I do not wish to be stabbed for my efforts. Please put the knives down."
Sarita scowled, glanced down at the weapons she held, and then sighed and set them on the counter next to her with obvious reluctance.
"Thank you," he said softly, and set down the tweezers to pick up the knives and quickly move them to the other side of the sink and out of her reach. When he then went to grab the tweezers again, they were gone.
Sarita had them, Domitian saw. She had also raised her injured foot to rest on her other knee so that she could see the bottom of it. Smiling at him widely, she shrugged. "No need to thank me. I couldn't hold them and take the glass out at the same time anyway."
Domitian opened his mouth, but then simply closed it again and leaned against the counter next to her. Waiting. There were three pieces of white porcelain in her foot, one large piece and two smaller. She could manage the large piece, but he knew the smaller ones were going to be difficult and painful to remove, which was why he'd suggested removing her knives.
Ignoring him, Sarita plucked out the larger of the three pieces first as he'd expected. She then turned her attention to the small pieces just visible under the skin and Domitian winced as she began to poke around the no-doubt tender flesh, trying to force the glass to the surface.
"Let me help," Domitian said, straightening when she sucked in a hissing breath of pain.
"I don't need help," Sarita said stubbornly and continued to poke and dig, causing herself unnecessary pain.
Losing patience with her, Domitian snatched the tweezers from her hand and knelt in front of her again. "Give me your foot."
"No," she growled. "Give me back the tweezers."
"No," he responded at once, and then took a breath before saying in a more reasonable tone, "I have better eyesight. I can remove it quickly. Let me help you."
For a moment he thought she'd refuse, but then Sarita released a pent-up sigh, and snapped, "Fine," as if she were doing him a favor and stuck out her foot. She then crossed her arms and glared at him.
Domitian found a smile creeping across his face at her attitude and quickly ducked his head to examine her foot so she wouldn't see it.
Apparently he hadn't been quick enough, however, because she growled, "Go ahead and snicker, fang boy, but you walked right through a floor full of that broken china on your way up here and I get to dig at your feet next."
"Why do I get the feeling you would enjoy causing me pain?" Domitian asked wryly, leaning in to remove the first small piece of glass from her foot. She hadn't responded by the time he removed the glass, so after tapping the tweezers on the edge of the sink to remove the fragment, he asked mildly, "What have I done to make you so angry?"
A glance up showed her looking dissatisfied and as mulish as a twelve-year-old boy. When he simply held on to her foot firmly, and waited for her answer, Sarita finally shrugged unhappily. "I don't like the idea that someone has been following me around for fifteen years."
"Ah." Domitian turned his attention back to her foot. "I apologize for that. But I did not wish to disrupt your life by insinuating myself into it while you were so young. I wanted you to have a normal childhood and experience everything other girls do--school, friends, even boyfriends," he added, his mouth tightening around the word. "However, I didn't wis
h to lose track of you either. I wanted to be able to approach you once you were old enough and woo you in the normal fashion. But I needed to know where you were when the time came, so I hired a private detective."
"That's all?" she asked suspiciously.
Domitian shrugged as he worked on the last sliver. "Pretty much. I got monthly reports letting me know that you were alive and well. Sometimes they included little details like the school you attended, or that you had friends and were attending parties and dances or whatnot. But I told him not to give me names or to be too intrusive in gaining his information."
"Why?" Sarita asked, sounding a little more curious and less angry.
"Because I did not wish to know who you were dating," he admitted gruffly.
"Why?" she repeated with real interest now.
Domitian raised his head and peered at her briefly, but then admitted, "Because you have been mine since the moment you entered my restaurant with your father at thirteen and I realized I could not read you," he admitted solemnly.
Sarita's eyes widened slightly at this announcement and the possessive way he said it and she was suddenly aware of both his hands curved around her heel, and his breath blowing softly over her foot. Swallowing, she closed her eyes and struggled not to curl her toes as Domitian returned to his efforts, adding, "I did not want to know another male might be kissing you."
Sarita bit her lower lip and dug her fingernails into her hands as she not only felt his words breathed across her toes, but suddenly had an image in her mind of this man kissing her, his arms tight around her, his fingers pulling her head back, his hips grinding against her as his tongue swept through her mouth. Frightened by the wave of need that rolled over her, Sarita forced her eyes open, banishing the image.
"Or caressing your luscious breasts," Domitian continued. His fingers shifted, brushing over the sensitive skin of her instep, but it was Sarita's breasts that tingled in response. Her nipples even hardened as if he was doing what he was speaking about and she closed her eyes briefly again, only to be assailed by a sudden vision of Domitian peeling her nightgown down away from her breasts and covering them with his hands.
"Or stripping your clothes away and exploring your hidden depths with his lips and tongue and body."
Sarita shook her head and forced her eyes open to see that his gaze was sliding along her leg, following an invisible path to her core. It was just a look, but she could almost feel his touch there, and she foolishly closed her eyes again as a shudder ran through her. This time the vision that filled her mind was of his kneeling between her legs, tugging her forward until she perched on the edge of the counter and then kissing a trail up one thigh to the strip of white cloth between her legs.
"Oh God," Sarita gasped, startling herself. She blinked her eyes open with confusion just in time to see Domitian getting to his feet and setting the tweezers on the counter.
"All done," he said lightly, turning back to her. "That was not so bad, was it?"
Sarita stared at him blankly, her body throbbing with need, and then raised a hand to her forehead and shook her head. "I don't--"
She closed her eyes again and sucked in a breath as the imaginary Domitian was immediately there, tugging the silky cloth of the thong aside and burying his head between her thighs so that his tongue could rasp across her sensitive flesh.
"Sarita? Are you all right?"
She opened her eyes to find that Domitian had bent toward her as he asked the question. His face was directly in front of hers, his lips just inches away, his breath sliding over her lips and setting them tingling too.
Growling, Sarita caught him around the neck and tried to pull him closer, wanting--no, needing--to kiss him. But Domitian resisted and reminded her, "You said n--"
"Shut up and kiss me," Sarita snapped, and much to her relief he did. His mouth immediately shot down to cover hers, his tongue sweeping out to slide between her lips just as it had in her mind moments earlier.
His kiss was hot and deep and so sweet that she almost didn't notice his hands sliding under her bottom and lifting her as he straightened. She did wrap her legs around his hips, though, when his hands shifted to her upper legs and he urged them up and apart. Sarita groaned into his mouth as their groins rubbed against each other, the action sending a wave of liquid fire rolling through her body.
Trembling in its wake, Sarita kissed him desperately and shifted her hips to bring about the sensation again. She felt Domitian's hand tugging at the neckline of her robe and gown and briefly broke their kiss to lean back enough to allow him access. She then watched as he quickly tugged the material of both items down, freeing her breasts. Her nipples were hard and excited, eager to be touched, and Sarita breathed "yes" on a groan when his hand covered one. But she then tightened her arms around his neck and pressed forward, trapping his hand there as she covered his mouth again, silently demanding another kiss.
Domitian answered the call, whipping her into a frenzy with his tongue even as he squeezed her behind and the breast he held. When he then caught her nipple between thumb and finger and rolled and pinched it gently, she cried out into his mouth and broke their kiss to throw her head back as she arched into the caress. She also tightened her legs around his hips and shifted, grinding against the hardness that had grown between them.
Domitian's response was a string of curses through clenched teeth, and then she felt the edge of the cold counter under her bottom.
Blinking in surprise, Sarita stared at him with confusion, and then uttered a startled gasp as he dropped to his knees before her and simply tore off the hated white thong she wore. When he then buried his face between her thighs, Sarita cried out, her feet slapping against the front of the cupboards and her arms moving back so that she could brace herself on the countertop as she arched, her butt partially lifting off the counter as he set to work.
Domitian didn't just rasp his tongue across her flesh as he had in her imaginings, he devoured her. Holding her legs firmly apart, he used teeth and tongue and lips as he explored every inch of her most sensitive flesh.
Within seconds Sarita was lost. Legs thrashing where he held them pinned open, bottom bouncing, she clawed at his head and shoulders and moaned over and over. And every time she moaned, Domitian groaned in response, his mouth vibrating against her skin and increasing her pleasure twofold and then twofold again.
Just when Sarita was sure she couldn't stand a moment more, Domitian broke off what he was doing, and stood up between her legs. He jerked his boxers down, freeing a truly impressive erection, and then clasped her by the hips and thrust into her.
Sarita wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it wasn't to explode into orgasm with just that first thrust. But she did. She dug her nails into his shoulders and threw her head back on a long scream as wave after wave of pleasure exploded over and around her, drenching her in it, drowning her, until it finally pulled her down with it into the soothing darkness that waited beyond consciousness.
Domitian woke on the bathroom floor with Sarita draped across his chest. He didn't remember passing out and falling back, taking her with him, but he must have. He reached up to feel his head. There was no cut or bump, but there was dried blood. He'd obviously taken a good head banging as he hit the floor. It made him glad he hadn't been awake for it.
Domitian peered down at the top of Sarita's head, glad she had landed on top of him. He never would have forgiven himself if she'd got hurt. Life mate sex could be damned dangerous for a mortal, at least when it ended, and was therefore best performed only on soft surfaces. He knew that, but had got carried away in the moment.
Next time he'd take more care, Domitian vowed silently, and ran a hand gently over Sarita's hair. She'd been even more passionate and responsive than he'd expected when he'd sent those images out to her of what he wanted to do to her. Domitian had merely hoped they would excite her and soften her attitude toward him, so he'd been more than surprised by her reaction. Pleasantly surprised, but surprised. The w
oman was a powder keg of passion.
And she was his, Domitian thought with satisfaction. Finally, his patience had been rewarded and he was here with his life mate in his arms and all was right with the world.
Well, not all, he thought suddenly as he looked around the room.
Domitian hadn't been thinking very clearly since waking up chained to the table in the basement. He'd like to blame it on whatever drug had been used to keep him asleep, but he knew that wasn't the case. He'd been suffering a bad case of life mate-head; the inability to think past his desire to possess the woman presently lying unconscious on his chest. It had passed for now, but he knew it would be back, and probably at the most inopportune time. Which meant he had to think while he could, and now that he was doing that, several questions were coming to mind.
Where the hell were they?
And why were they there?
His gaze dropped to Sarita and Domitian had a vague recollection of her saying something about Dressler drugging and dropping her here too. Why? What was the man up to? Why had he kidnapped them and then put them together in this house? For that matter, why had he kidnapped all those other immortals? Were they each in other houses, wondering the same thing?
Domitian didn't know, but he was pretty sure that as pleasant as things were at that moment, whatever plans Dressler had for him and Sarita didn't include an ending he would like. They needed to get out of there.
And he needed blood, Domitian thought, becoming aware of the gnawing in his stomach.
Glancing down to Sarita, he gave her a gentle shake to wake her. When that had no effect, he eased her gently off him and to the side to lie on the cold tile, then got quickly to his feet and bent to scoop her up off the floor. She didn't even stir as he carried her into the bedroom and set her in the bed.
Domitian stared down at her for a minute, taking in her sweet face in repose. You'd never guess how prickly and stubborn she could be from how she looked now, he thought wryly. And then his gaze slid down to her body and his thoughts turned to her passion. Her breasts were still exposed above the neckline he'd tugged under them, showing that her nipples were no longer hard. And her legs had fallen open a bit when he'd set her down, leaving a perfect view of what he'd been so eager to taste.