by Lynsay Sands
"I am sorry. I was hoping to clean you up before you woke, but I did not intend to wake you. I expected you to be unconscious for a couple more hours at least."
"Clean me?" Mary asked weakly, sure she'd misunderstood.
"Yes." Dante raised a washcloth she hadn't noticed in his hand and gave her face another swipe. "Francis, Russell and I were so busy trying to hold you down and keep you from harming yourself I did not get the chance before now. You only calmed this morning and by then we were so exhausted . . ." He shrugged. "But when I woke from my rest and saw your face I thought I'd best clean it. I did not want you to wake up, see your face all covered with blood and . . . What?" he asked uncertainly when she suddenly closed her eyes with relief.
"I thought you were licking my face," she admitted.
"What?" he asked with disbelief.
"Well, really I thought Bailey was licking my face, but then when I opened my eyes and it was you here I--" She shook her head and waved the matter away. "Never mind. I have more urgent matters to attend to. Where is the bathroom?"
"Oh, it is there," Dante said, turning to gesture to a door in the wall behind him.
The moment he turned his face away, Mary tossed the blankets and sheets aside. All she had on was an overlarge T-shirt. She'd rather been hoping for more than that, perhaps joggers and a T-shirt or something else that would cover her from throat to toes. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Equally unfortunately, she had to relieve herself so badly that she couldn't wait for him to leave so that she could get up. So, Mary leapt from the bed and sped around it to dash to the bathroom door. She was inside and slamming it closed so quickly she even impressed herself. Adrenaline was apparently a truly amazing thing, Mary thought as she hiked up the T-shirt and dropped to sit on the toilet.
As she tore some toilet paper off the roll, Mary remembered a time when she was young and being chased by a boy at school. He was known to like to grab the boobs of all the girls while they were out on the playground at recess. Mary had seen him coming up behind her one day, hands out and at the ready, and she'd taken off at a dead run. Her feet had moved so fast they'd barely touched the ground. It had felt to her as if she'd almost just flown across the playground.
Mary hadn't thought she still had it in her. But it seemed even an old broad could practically fly when faced with humiliation. And having handsome, young-looking Dante get a gander at her dimpled thighs was definitely a humiliating prospect to her. He was so damned perfect, and she so wasn't.
Grimacing, she finished her business, flushed the toilet, and stood to wash her hands. It was as she soaped her hands that Mary actually looked at any part of herself for the first time, and then she paused and frowned with confusion. Her hands were pale and as smooth as a baby's bottom, the nails long.
Actually overly long, she thought with a frown and turned her hands over then back. She hadn't seen these hands in years--many, many years. Time had scarred and wrinkled them, marring them with age spots and--but no more. Now they looked like they belonged to a young woman. Someone maybe twenty or twenty-five and--
Thoughts dying, Mary stilled and stared blindly at her hands, her mind suddenly racing, and then she slowly lifted her head and peered into the mirror over the sink. An old friend stared back.
"Dante!" Mary called, her voice coming out strangled.
"Yes?" He answered right away. It sounded like he was right outside the door. "Are you all right?"
Mary merely stared at the woman in the mirror. Her hair had grown a bit and now hung almost to her shoulders. It was also a golden blond for the first couple of inches, before becoming the platinum white age had turned it to. It actually looked kind of cool, she noted with surprise. Like some kind of young, hip hairdo.
Her face also looked young under the smudges of dirt and blood still on it. Mary picked up the folded washcloth on the counter and dampened it, then ran it over her face, cleaning away the smears of blood that Dante had missed. Then she let the cloth drop into the sink and simply stared at herself. Her cheekbones were high, her lips full, and her eyelids no longer looked like they were drooping with exhaustion. But her eyes themselves? They were a beautiful cornflower blue mixed with a silver that had never been there before.
"Oh my," she breathed.
"Mary?" Dante asked through the door with concern. "If you do not answer me I am coming in."
"What did you do?" she asked in almost a whisper. "Look what you did to me."
The door opened behind her and Mary shifted her gaze briefly from herself to Dante. He looked worried.
"I am sorry I had to turn you without asking permission," he said quietly. "But you were dying. I could not let you die."
"Ah," Mary breathed and shifted her gaze back to her own face again. He'd turned her. This was her peak condition. She must have been badly injured in the accident after they'd been forced off the road.
"The RV?" she asked, her gaze still sliding over her face.
"The council will replace it," Dante assured her.
"Ah," Mary said again. The RV had been totaled then. She wasn't surprised. She had a vague recollection of them rolling. RVs were not good at rolling. Meeting his gaze in the mirror, she asked, "And the kidnappers?"
He shook his head unhappily.
"I'm sorry," Mary said sincerely.
Dante's mouth tightened, but he merely said, "They will try again. Russell is sure they followed us here from the accident sight."
"Russell and Francis," Mary murmured slowly. He'd mentioned both names earlier as she recalled and she tilted her head and then asked, "Are they the men Lucian sent?"
"Yes." Dante nodded and then asked, "You are all right?"
Mary blinked in surprise at the question, and then recalled that he'd entered because she'd called out in shock when she'd first seen herself. Shifting her gaze back to her reflection in the mirror, she marveled over it again. It was incredible, and made her wonder how long she had been out. How long did a turn and this kind of transformation take? Before she could ask, a knock sounded at the door of the bedroom. Mary turned to peer at him in question.
"Wait here. It is probably room service," he said, turning away. "I was getting hungry and ordered food."
Mary watched him go, and then turned her gaze back to herself. It was probably horrible of her to admit it, but she was quite enthralled by the wonder before her. Dante had turned her. She was at her peak condition. All of her, she thought suddenly, and losing interest in her face, reached for the hem of the overlarge T-shirt she wore and jerked it up.
Mary pulled it all the way up to her neck, leaving only her throat and shoulders covered. She then stared at what she could see of her body in the mirror. High, full, firm breasts, a much smaller stomach than she was used to seeing, but still with a soft roundness, and the tops of curvaceous hips. Wishing she had a full-length mirror, Mary continued to hold up the shirt and turned to look over her shoulder to see what her peak-condition butt looked like. She had to get up on her tiptoes to be able to see it, but once she did . . .
Damnnnn, Mary thought with wonder, she had one fine ass. It was bigger than she'd expected. Apparently, a female body in peak condition was not a body that looked like a skinny boy's body minus the penis as all of today's models seemed to have. Who knew?
Shaking her head, Mary turned back around to look at her front again. This time she didn't just look though. Releasing one edge of the T-shirt, she slid that hand over her body, running it lightly over smooth, taut skin, amazed it didn't all disappear and turn into the body she'd become used to.
"Oh, mio dolce Dio."
Mary jerked her gaze upward at that comment and positively beamed at Dante's reflection when she saw that he'd returned, and that he was staring at her with a combination of shock and pure unadulterated lust. Apparently, he hadn't expected to return to find her feeling herself up, she thought with amusement and slowly let her T-shirt drop back down as she turned to face him. "Dolce means 'sweet' in Italian, yes?"
<
br /> "Si," he breathed, staring at her chest as if he could see through the cloth.
"So you said, 'My sweet God'?"
"Si," Dante repeated and started forward. Mary immediately grabbed the door and swung it shut in his face. Just before the door closed, she saw shock claim his expression as he realized what she was doing.
"You said you were hungry. Go eat," Mary ordered as she locked the door. "I'm all greasy and want a shower."
"But Mary," he groaned. "Sei cosi bella mia uccellino. Permettetemi per lavare la schiena."
Mary raised her eyebrows at the sudden spate of Italian. She didn't understand a word of it. She'd only understood the dolce Dio thing because she'd seen La Dolce Vita several times on the Classic Movie Channel and had been curious enough to look up what it meant. As for the Dio part, well, everyone knew Dios mio meant "oh my God," didn't they? Although she suspected that might be Spanish, but she'd always heard that the two languages were quite similar.
She started to turn away, but curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "What did that mean?"
"'You are so beautiful, my little bird. Let me wash your back,'" he translated. "Please, Mary."
She hesitated briefly, but when she'd run her hand down her body, it had come away feeling slightly greasy. The only thing Mary could think was that during the turn the nanos had probably forced a lot of gunk out through her pores or something. That was a guess, however. She'd have to ask Dante about that later. In the meantime, she wanted to be clean, and knew without a doubt that if she let him into the room, cleaning would be the last thing to happen.
"Next time," she said softly, quite sure he'd hear, then turned and walked over to open the shower door and turn it on. She adjusted the knobs until the water temperature was to her liking and then closed the door again and whipped off the T-shirt she wore. Letting it drop to the floor, Mary grabbed one of the rolled up towels on the counter and slung it over the shower door. She then glanced over the selection of tiny bottles on the counter and selected the body wash, shampoo and conditioner, then carried them into the shower with her.
Mary was usually quick about her showers. "Get in, get it done, get out" had always been her motto for showering. Today was the exception. After years of not bothering to look at her body, today she inspected every inch of it, starting at the top. Much to her surprise, this peak condition came up short in a couple of areas. For instance, she hadn't suddenly sprouted lovely longer legs. Mary supposed she could live with that however, considering her derriere was now so awesome. Sadly, another thing was that, while she hadn't had to shave her legs much at all since going through menopause, she'd now sprouted five-o'clock shadow all over them. She looked like a damned porcupine, and wasn't that sexy?
The only bright side Mary could think of for that situation was that it was all just stubble and not two or three inches of extra hair growth like on her head. That would have been a horror to find for sure.
Once she'd finished cleaning and inspecting herself, Mary used the shampoo and conditioner, and then opened the shower door. Stepping out, she called out, "Dante can I use your razor?" as she grabbed the man's travel kit that had been set on the end of the counter. Something fell to the floor as Mary snatched up the kit and she glanced down to see that it was exactly what she needed, a razor.
"Everything I own is yours, mio amore," Dante assured her through the door as she set the travel kit back on the counter and bent to retrieve the razor. She was walking back to the shower when he added, "But I do not think Russell and Francis brought me a razor."
"They did," she sang out on a laugh as she stepped under the shower and pulled the stall door closed again.
"What was that?" Dante called.
"Never mind. You'll see," Mary responded as she picked up the body wash and began to lather some in her hands.
Mary had quite forgotten how time consuming and just plain annoying shaving your legs could be. But she simply wasn't going back out there to the bedroom in just the T-shirt, her legs bare and imitating Bigfoot, so she took her time, performing the chore in a leisurely manner to ensure she didn't cut herself all over the place. Going out there with bleeding legs or bits of toilet paper stuck to the cuts would not be attractive either, she was sure.
When she finally finished with her legs and under her arms, Mary stood under the water for a minute to rinse away the last of the body wash, then turned off the taps and grabbed the towel she'd slung over the door. She dried her hair and then her body, tossed the towel aside to reach for the T-shirt, then paused and grimaced. She didn't really want to put her nice, newly clean body back in the shirt she'd worn while so slimy. There must be some residue on it and just the idea of pulling it on made her grimace.
Sighing, Mary picked up her towel again and wrapped it around herself sarong style, then used Dante's brush to brush out her hair. He didn't have makeup, of course, but she didn't really need it. Her skin was flawless, her lips a healthy rose pink. She actually looked good without it, and Mary didn't think she'd ever thought that about herself. Even when she had been young the first time.
Shrugging, she smiled at her reflection, then turned and opened the bathroom door.
Dante was seated at a small table beside the bed, a half-eaten feast on the table before him. He got quickly to his feet when she entered, though.
"I didn't want to put the dirty T-shirt back on after showering, but I have no clothes," Mary announced as she entered the bedroom.
"They are hanging in the closet," Dante said. "Russell had the hotel launder them. You can put them on later. Sit now. Eat."
Mary glanced toward the closet, but then made a beeline for the table. Now that food was on offer, she was suddenly aware that she was very hungry. Pausing beside the table, she admitted, "I'm starving."
"I am not surprised," Dante said, his voice a little husky. "You have not eaten in four days."
"Really? All it took was four days for me to turn?" she asked with surprise. She would have expected longer for a transformation like this.
"You are still turning," he assured her solemnly. "You are just through the worst of it. The rest will complete over the next weeks or months."
"Oh," she murmured, turning her gaze back to the food.
"As for how long a turn takes, it varies. For some it is faster, for some longer. Your injuries probably contributed to the length as well."
"Right," she murmured, wondering what her injuries had been. From what he'd said, they'd been life threatening, but had it been head trauma, or had she been pinned? Crushed? Skewered by a piece of metal?
Maybe she didn't want to know, Mary decided, and admitted, "I don't remember much. I know they drove us off the highway, and then it was like the RV exploded."
"The RV did explode," he said, but quickly added, "after I got you out."
"Oh." She sighed her relief and grimaced. "I don't remember that. I just remember everything flying at me and--" She whirled and glanced around the room with alarm. "Where is Bailey?"
"She is fine," Dante said quickly, taking her arm and urging her into the chair across from the one he'd been seated in. "She broke a leg in the accident, but--"
"What?" Mary cried, jumping to her feet again.
"She is going to be okay," he assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder to push her back down onto her chair. "She is at the veterinary hospital."
"And they've kept her four days?" Mary asked with alarm, popping to her feet once more. Vets did not keep dogs that long unless it was terribly serious. Hell, she'd had dogs that were operated on and sent home the same day.
"Russell . . . convinced them to keep her for a few days because we thought it best she not be here while you were going through the turn," Dante explained soothingly.
Mary didn't need to ask to know he was talking about mind control when he said convinced.
Dante added, "It was for the best. We had enough on our plates looking after you and trying to keep anyone from calling the police to report a
murder. We couldn't watch Bailey too."
"What murder? Why would anyone call the police?" she asked with a combination of alarm and confusion.
"Mary," he said solemnly. "The turn is very painful. You have been screaming your head off for four days. We had to take turns, two of us holding you down to ensure your bindings did not snap and loose you to hurt yourself, and one of us out in the hallway controlling anyone within hearing distance."
"You tied me down?" she asked with amazement.
"We had to. You would have hurt yourself otherwise," Dante said apologetically.
"I would not," Mary assured him indignantly. "I'm not into cutting or any of the other self-abuse things."
"It is not a matter of being a self-abuser," he assured her. "It is a matter of the pain being so great that . . ." Dante paused as if searching for an example, and then sighed and said, "I heard once of a turn who stabbed himself in the eye trying to end the agony."
"Ewww," she said, sitting down abruptly.
"Si. Exactly." Dante nodded. "I wished to avoid your doing something like that."
"Thank you," Mary muttered, trying to imagine how bad pain had to be to make a person do something like that. She couldn't even imagine it though. It just seemed so alien. Shaking her head, she admitted, "I don't remember suffering any pain."
"That is a blessing then," Dante said and began to move the plates with food still on them closer to her.
Mary stared down at the food before her, and then glanced up and asked almost apologetically, "You said Russell is sure the kidnappers followed us back here?"
He nodded.
"So they drove us off the road and then just let this Russell and Francis collect us and bring us here?"
"Not exactly," he said dryly. "When the kidnappers forced us off the road, Russell and Francis were in the SUV directly in front of us. I do not think the men in the van even realized they were there. The RV probably blocked their view of them."
Mary nodded. She had noticed the SUV he was talking about. It had practically been riding the RV's front bumper. She had no doubt the kidnappers hadn't known they were there and had probably thought the road empty when they forced the RV off the road.