Retribution (Book 3 of The Dominion Series) (4 page)

He'll have to let me in, let me experience his memory of my mother's death, or I'll leave, and he knows that. I relent and won't push right now. This is too good. I want this moment to last for a while. But I won't let it rest for long.

I have a plan…

The next night, after a long day of walking the beach and then sitting in the silence of the house reading, we stand side by side at the island in the kitchen in his cottage and prepare fresh spring rolls for dinner.

While I slice the vegetables and stir fry the thin strips of marinated tofu, he prepares the wrappers, soaking them in hot water and then blotting the excess moisture with a paper towel. In the background, Debussy is playing on the sound system –
Reverie
. One of my favorite pieces.

We don't speak, just move around each other while we work, both of us listening to the music, enjoying the comfortable silence. He moves behind me to get a new roll of paper towels, and touches me as he passes, his hands resting for a moment on my hips. He kisses my neck briefly from behind. I smile, and keep chopping the carrots, slicing them into thin strips. I pop the end of a carrot into my mouth and chew while he hums along with the music.

This is so nice.

I glance over at him and he's smiling to himself while he works.
  Then I go behind him to get the cilantro from the fridge and touch him as I pass, my hand sliding down his back to his butt, which I give a soft squeeze.

This goes on for a while longer, both of us making every excuse to touch each other. Still, there's no discussion, for even at a distance, I can feel him through our shared connection as his blood slave. He's content. He's happy. He knows we're going to fuck before we eat. All the touches are just foreplay. He's trying to decide whether I should feed before dinner or after. If I wait to feed, it means we'll fuck twice this evening and that just feels right.
 

He's been pretty easy with me since we became lovers again, not enforcing this dominance and submission relationship just yet, but I can feel his desire to and that he's just ever so slightly taking more and more control. He wants to build trust with me before he goes too far with it.

I like that he's planning for us, thinking about how he wants things to be done. I thought it would bother me based on what I've read in my journal, but instead, it arouses me, even the signs of control he's shown me. I know he's planning to work up to more control, more dominance. I'm a bit breathless to see how I respond to it. When I imagine him controlling me even more, I feel an immediate response physically.

He's hoping I'll give up my desire to join the battle once more by establishing a D/s relationship. He hopes that I'll enjoy it so much, that I'll give up my plans.

I let him have his delusion.

Michel
wants
me. He wants to be
mine
. Michel wants all of me and to be everything to me. That's pretty powerful. He wants to fulfill my every need – except for my need to kill Soren.

From what I read in my journal, Julien said he could never give me what I needed. That I had to just take what he could give, which was pretty much just good sex. A good fuck now and then. But Julien was totally committed to fighting Dominion and letting me play my part. As his partner. His equal.

Sadness fills me for some reason, despite all the good feelings between Michel and me. Michel senses my shift in emotion. He puts down his rice wrapper, takes the knife out of my hands and turns me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. He releases some kind of endorphin in my brain that drains the sadness out of me, replacing it with a deep sense of warmth from him, of love.

"He's moved on, Eve," he says softly, his lips against my neck below my ear where he bit me that first time.

I nod, certain from the entries in my journal that I meant little to Julien, or at least, he's occupied with whatever woman he's with at the time. Another vampire, probably. Some call girl that he had to fuck as part of his cover infiltrating Blackstone like he did when I was with him. I'm glad he's moved on. I don't need that kind of disruption in my life. I
love
being with Michel. He feels so strong and so certain, like a powerful force that will protect me. That will completely possess me. From my journal, I know that Julien always just upset me, frustrated me, and made me feel unsteady, like I could lose my grip and fall.

Michel takes my hand and pulls me away from the island. "Come," he says and I know he wants us to fuck now, so I'll forget this little mental reverie about Julien.

"But the tofu…"

Michel stops and turns the stove off and then takes my hand, pulling me into the bedroom. I let him of course, smiling once more at the thought he's going to make me come, using pleasure to control me. It's the kind of control I don't mind giving over.

Once we get to the bed, he sits on it and pulls me between his thighs and starts to unbutton my blouse.

"You think you can make everything better with an orgasm," I say, grinning at him. He responds immediately with his own smile.

"Everything is better with an orgasm, Eve."

When he has my blouse off, and then my bra, he pulls me against him, his face between my breasts, his mouth moving between my nipples.

And he's right.

I'm famished by the time we've finished preparing our meal of fresh rolls and Vietnamese beer. We sit at the table by the window and before we start, Michel makes the sign of the cross, his head bowed for a moment. I frown – he's still so religious. He's unable to completely escape the Church – escape being a priest – despite all these centuries.

I eat my meal with relish, dipping my fresh roll in the peanut sauce Michel made. We're sitting at the small table by the sliding glass doors that look out over the ocean. The doors are open, admitting the sound of the ocean in the distance and the scent of fresh salt air. On the sound system, a selection of Gregorian Chants provides a somber but beautiful ambience. It reminds me of what Michel is at heart – a priest. A man of God. How sad for him that Marguerite took that away from him. Despite how hard he tries to live a chaste and priestly life, he fails. He kills in the service of the Council, he fucks me, and he plots and plans, lies and cheats.

His life is as far from the priesthood as it could be.

I reach out and take his hand, overcome with love and sympathy for him. He looks up from his glass of beer and smiles.

"I'm happy, Eve. Here with you, like this."

"Would you have preferred to remain mortal, taken your place as Bishop of Carcassonne? Lived and died in the Church?"

He puts his glass down and wipes his mouth on a napkin. Then he looks up at me, his expression thoughtful, a distant look in his eyes.

"I've lost my immortal soul," he says. "To a priest, that is the worst fate possible."

I frown. "I don't believe in souls, immortal or otherwise."

He smiles softly and returns to his meal.

"So you're just giving up on fighting Dominion? You and I will just live out my life apart from the battle and let whatever happens happen?"

"Yes," he says. "That is my desire. If we become involved in the fight, you or I – or both of us, will die. I couldn't stand for you to die because of this insanity."

"My mother died because of it. I need Soren to get retribution, Michel. You have to know I won't rest until he does get it."

He turns to me, his expression just a bit frustrated. "After all this effort to get you back, do you really think I'll just let you put your life at risk?"

"Yes," I say. "You and I – we can't have a normal life. Not while vampires are planning to take over. Not while Soren is free."

His blue eyes are huge. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to sacrifice yourself."

"You really think you can sit by and ignore the war you've told me about?"

He takes my hand once more. "I'll do my best. No one knows you're alive except Vasily and your parents. Whatever happens, you and I will remain apart from it. I've lived too long and sacrificed too much. I'm not giving up anything else. There are others who can fight this war. I'm out."

He turns back to his last fresh roll and eats it without looking at me as if that's his final answer. I sit and stew for a moment, knowing that I can't accept that. I can't stand by while Soren and his servants prepare to take power.

I say nothing in reply, sticking to my plan. I don't want this sour feeling between us. I want to enjoy Michel while I can. Just the two of us alone.

It will be time to leave this little haven he's created soon enough.

We go for our nightly walk on the beach, Michel's arm around my shoulders. While the days are still warm, they're getting shorter and it's already dark when we walk along the shore. There's a half-moon and its light glows on the surf. The sky is clear and the Milky Way is a long dusty arc in the sky above us. The exercise will invigorate me, make my mind clear for a while before my feed.

Now is when I most want to talk to Michel about Dominion, press him for more details, but I bite my tongue and wait. When we get back to the cottage, my stomach is already full of butterflies, thinking of our feed and what I want to happen. I've been planning this for a few days, giving Michel some time to calm down about me wanting to relive his memory of my mother's death. Tonight, I want him to drink my blood as I drink his. It will maximize our connection and our pleasure, and when he's under the influence of my blood and we're fucking, I'll see if I can find his memory of my mother's death.

That's my plan. I think I've been successful in keeping it from him, for if he knows, he doesn't show it.

We both know what happens next when we arrive back at the cottage. I go to the bathroom and start the water for a nice warm bath. I pour in some of the bath salts Michel had prepared that contain my perfume. There are no words between us as we undress and step into the tub. Michel sits across from me, his pale skin so beautiful in the soft overhead light. Michel takes one of my feet and washes it with some soap.

It tickles me a bit and I can't help but giggle.

"Oh, your feet are ticklish, are they?' he says, a devilish grin on his face. "Now I know a surefire way to make you smile and show me your dimples."

I try to pull my foot away, because I can barely stand him touching the sensitive bottom. "Don't, Michel!" I laugh when he refuses and continues to wash it. Then, when it's rinsed of soap, he starts to suck my toes.

I hold my breath because I'm torn between the eroticism of it and how his touch still tickles. I don't know whether to groan or giggle.

"You have such nice toes, Eve," he says, and tongues my baby toe, sucking it briefly before slipping his tongue between it and its neighbor. That sensation goes right to my clit and now I do groan just a bit. He kisses the bottom of my foot and then my ankle and calf. I know where this is leading.

"Oh, God," I say, and close my eyes. "I'm ready right now."

"I know you are," he says. "You've always been so responsive. Have I said that I love that about you? Despite everything that happened to you, you haven't shut off."

I open my eyes and look at him. Despite everything that's happened to me. Of course, he means Thompson. He means my mother's death. He means everything that's happened since we met.

He pulls me over to him so that I lie on top of him in the bath, my arms around his neck and I can't help remembering a journal entry where I was in a tub in Julien's warehouse, lying just like this.

"I wish it had been you who killed Thompson," I say and tuck his hair behind his ear.

"I had so many plans to be your first in everything, to be your champion, and yet I find my brother replaced me in them all."

"You gave me to him like some spoil of war," I say, unable to keep a tiny bit of hurt from my voice despite the fact that I have no memory of it, just the words written in the pages of my journal.

"I had no other choice. It was Julien or Soren."

"Julien could never replace you," I say. "He admitted it to me. All I'd ever be to him is a good fuck."

"He did care for you," Michel says, frowning. "In his way."

"Then, was he at least upset to think I was dead?"

"He was," he says, glancing away from my face. "Upset. Yes. But you've read your journal. He's glib. He thinks life is a big game. A joke."

"I think he was upset because he thought I was supposed to be his Adept, not yours."

Michel shrugs. "Let's not talk about him. He's moved on and so must we. Now," he says and moves my hair from my neck, "there are other places on your body I intend to suck, so let's get out."

I smile at him, a thrill going through my body at that. He makes that throat sound and pulls me close, kissing my cheeks, one after the other.

"Temptress," he says and helps me up. I step out of the tub and he follows me, then he wraps a towel around me from behind, kissing my neck. He quickly dries himself off and then takes my hand, leading me to the bed, which is huge, the four posters thick, the wood dark. The cover is a fine creamy silk in blue like his eyes. He removes my towel and sits down on the edge, pulling me onto his lap so that I straddle him, one knee on either side of his thighs. He's already erect, and I'm already imagining what he'll feel like inside of me.