Domitian licked his lips, suddenly hungry to taste her again. He almost did just that, almost crawled onto the bed with her to lick away the dried blood as he'd wanted to do earlier and then taste her essence. It was the licking away the dried blood that kept him from climbing into bed for round two. Domitian would have had no compunction about licking fresh blood from her body should she have freshly cut herself, but dried blood was something else. It was just nasty. Even thinking about doing that told him how much he needed to feed.
Sighing with regret, Domitian turned away and left the room to make his way to the office and downstairs. It wasn't until he reached the bottom of the stairs that he recalled the glass everywhere.
Domitian paused, briefly considering just walking through it again, but that and his head wound were the reason he needed blood again so soon. The nanos had forced the glass from his foot as he'd knelt to remove her splinters. They had also repaired the small cuts from the china as well as his head injury and now needed more blood. There was no sense adding to their need.
Turning on his heel, he returned upstairs to fetch a broom and dustpan from the kitchen.
Sarita stretched happily and rolled onto her back in bed. She felt great. Awesome. Incredible. She hadn't felt this good in a long time, if ever, and she owed it all to--
Her eyes blinked open and she stared blankly up at her own reflection. It told her that she was alone in the bed, but--Dear God, the ceiling is mirrored above the open bed frame! How tacky was that? And how had she not noticed that when she'd woken up here earlier?
Obviously, she hadn't looked up. Tilting her head, Sarita wondered what it would have been like to have watched her and Domitian having sex. Probably not that great, she decided. Watching herself writhe and moan while Domitian had done the things he'd done . . . well, frankly, it would have taken her right out of the moment.
Which would have been a shame, because she hadn't had her pipes cleaned like that in a heck of a long time, Sarita thought with a grin and then quickly groaned and closed her eyes.
"Snap out of it," she ordered herself grimly, but it wasn't easy. He was sooo hot, and man, she'd never experienced sex like that, hadn't even imagined it was possible. Unfortunately, her Catholic upbringing was warring with the woman she'd grown into, an independent female cop who had no qualms about going after what she wanted. It was all leaving Sarita an extremely confused woman. One part of her brain was telling her she had been very naughty and should head to the nearest priest for confession. The other part was suggesting if she was going to have to do penance anyway, she really should find Domitian and jump him again.
Dear God, she'd really done that! Sarita shook her head at her reflection with dismay. After her grand lecture to him that there would be no kissy, kissy, gropey, gropey and no sexo, she'd gone ahead and started it herself! She'd kissed him.
Oh, the shame! Oh, the humiliation! Oh . . . she wanted to do it again.
Opening her eyes, Sarita met her gaze in the reflection above and said solemnly, "You are obviously a very confused woman."
And God, what a mess she was, Sarita thought as she noted the dried blood everywhere. It was on her face, her chest, her hands, legs, and feet. And her nightgown? That was a tangle around her waist leaving everything else bare.
She looked like a two-bit whore whose last John had been a slasher.
"Ugh," Sarita said with disgust and forced herself from the bed. She needed a shower and a good stiff drink. Alternately, she needed a shower and a good stiff Domitian, she thought. And then she shook her head.
"You are incorrigible, Sarita Reyes," she muttered to herself as she headed into the bathroom. "Your father is up there somewhere in heaven, his head hung low with disappointment and shame, and all you can think about is . . ."
Sarita stopped talking to herself as she reached the shower and quickly turned on the taps. But her thoughts didn't stop there, because all she was thinking about as she fetched a towel, shampoo, and soap was just how mind-blowing and hot sex with Domitian had been.
Dressler had said life mate sex was like no other and she couldn't agree more. He'd also said it was overwhelming and stuff, and he hadn't been kidding. If what she had experienced was all due to those nanos he'd mentioned, then damn! They were one fine invention and she was all for them, Sarita thought as she stripped off the ruined nightgown and robe and stepped into the shower to begin shampooing her hair.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, thoughts of Dressler were enough to dampen her wayward desires and Sarita's mind turned instead to what El Doctor wanted as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair. Why had he put her there with Domitian? Sarita wondered as she began quickly scrubbing the soap over her body, removing the dried blood.
In the letter he'd said he hoped to learn a lot from her stay here. What exactly was it he hoped to learn? He'd already known about life mate sex, so that wasn't it. Unless he had cameras here and hoped to see it for himself.
Sarita stiffened at that thought, and then raised her head and turned in the shower. She spotted one almost at once. It was in the corner of the shower, recessed in the wall, but a tiny lens was just visible if you were looking for it.
Resisting the urge to cover her private bits, Sarita lowered her head, turned her back to the corner, and then stepped under the spray to rinse off. The moment she'd finished, though, she turned off the water and grabbed the towel she'd collected. Rather than dry herself with it, she simply wrapped it around herself toga-style.
Sarita glanced around the bathroom as she stepped out of the shower, spotting three more camera lenses as she did. There was one in each of the other three corners of the room.
"Nice," she hissed under her breath.
Pretending not to have seen them, Sarita walked over and snatched up a hand towel off the rack to dry her hair as much as possible, then ran a quick brush through it before slipping out of the room.
A stop in the closet proved that it wasn't magic and hadn't suddenly produced real clothes for her. Heaving a resigned sigh, she went through what was available and chose a short, red-and-black lace-and-satin nightgown that at least had substance to its very short skirt.
"And that's all it has," Sarita grumbled once she had it on and saw that the lace top showed as much as it hid. She could clearly see the outline of her breasts, but at least a couple of strategically placed lace flowers mostly hid her nipples. Shaking her head, she didn't bother with shoes, but hurried out of the bedroom in search of Domitian.
A search of the living room, dining room, and kitchen did not turn up Domitian. Though, she did spot more cameras, four in every room. She should have checked the bedroom too, but now supposed she needn't bother. If the bathroom wasn't sacred, the bedroom definitely wouldn't be.
The office was empty too but also had cameras, Sarita noted as she rushed through it to make her way quickly downstairs. She didn't, however, spot any in the room at the bottom of the stairs. Probably because the walls were stone and cameras couldn't be recessed in them. Possibly also because the room was unpleasant, damp, and smelly. He wouldn't imagine they'd do anything there.
Sarita was halfway across the floor before she noticed that the glass had all been cleaned up, but barely gave it a thought as she hurried into the abandoned lab.
"Domitian." She scowled when she spotted him by the refrigerator. She'd started to worry that he'd been removed while she'd slept, and here he was chowing down on more blood, she thought with irritation as he removed an empty bag of blood from his mouth. The last of four, she saw, counting the empty bags already on the counter.
"Mi Corazon," Domitian greeted with a smile as he tossed the empty bag next to the others and moved to meet her. As he walked his eyes dropped with appreciation down over the nightgown she wore.
Noting that his blue eyes grew more silver with each step and recalling that they'd burned a brilliant silver as he'd made love to her upstairs, Sarita began to back warily away. Putting her hand up, she said no firmly, her g
aze skating around to find the cameras in the corners. Not in the walls this time, but recessed in the trim on top of the upper cupboards.
Eyebrows rising, Domitian paused and Sarita hesitated. She wanted to talk to him about Dressler and why they were there, but not around the cameras. She didn't doubt for a minute that they recorded audio as well as video, and she didn't want Dressler knowing what they were talking about.
"Not here," Sarita said finally, and then tried on a pouty moue for the cameras that she suspected looked more like a grimace and said, "The floor is too hard."
"Ah," Domitian breathed, moving forward again. The silver had receded a bit in his eyes at her no but came surging back now, and Sarita's body responded, producing liquid like Pavlov's salivating dogs. Only her salivating was much lower and warmer.
"Come. We will go upstairs," Domitian breathed, slipping his arm around her and urging her toward the door.
"Yes," she muttered, unable to resist leaning into him as his hand ran down her side from her waist to her hip and lower, before sliding up under her nightgown to clasp one round cheek. It was only then Sarita realized she'd forgotten to hunt for a thong to wear under the skimpy gown.
"Oh boy," she breathed, and then slipped away from his caressing hand and stepped determinedly in front of him as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Whispering so the cameras in the other room wouldn't pick up her words, she said, "We need to talk,"
Misunderstanding her whispering, Domitian stiffened at once and glanced up the stairs. "Is someone here?"
"No," Sarita assured him, patting his chest reassuringly. At least it started out a reassuring pat, but turned into a pawing pat. He had such a lovely chest she just couldn't resist touching it.
"Mi tresoro? What is it?" he asked softly. Unfortunately, he also clasped her arms and then ran his fingers lightly up and down them as he waited.
The simple touch was very distracting and Sarita found herself shivering as it sent tingles slipping through her again. She didn't even really notice herself inching closer to him until her nipples brushed against his chest through the lace top of her nightgown. Already semi-hard, they turned to stone then as excitement raced through her, and a little ahhh slid from her lips.
"Ah, Sarita. Besame," Domitian breathed the demand that she kiss him, his head lowering toward her.
"No!" She turned her head abruptly away, scowling again with irritation at how distracting the damned man was. It was bad enough fending him off without her own body betraying her like this. "No kissing. I need to talk to you," Sarita added quietly. "We have to get out of here."
"Si," he agreed. "Talk. I will listen." Domitian began kissing her cheek, since that was all that was available to him, and then trailing his lips to her ear.
Sarita snapped her mouth closed to keep from moaning at the sensations his actions sent washing through her. She raised her hands to his shoulders, intending to push him back. Instead, she found herself clutching at him and arching as he nibbled on her tender lobe.
"Mi Amante," Domitian breathed, his arms slipping around to cup her behind and lift her up against him so that he could pepper kisses down her throat. "Tu eres la mujer mas bella que he visto. Tue eres mi luz en la oscuridad."
You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You are my light in the dark, Sarita translated in her head and then shook it to try to force the love words out and concentrate. "I really--we need to talk," she said breathlessly.
"Si," he breathed, easing her back to her feet. "Talk."
"Good," Sarita said with relief and tried to gather her thoughts again.
"I like this nightgown," Domitian murmured, one hand rising to toy with a nipple through the lace.
"That's not very helpful," Sarita growled as he caught the excited tip through the cloth and pinched it between thumb and finger. When his other hand then slid under the skirt of the nightgown again and clasped her bottom, Sarita was sure she was lost . . . until his fingers began a lazy meander around in front and along the top of her tender thigh. It was the first time she'd felt pain since cutting it. All she could think was that he'd unintentionally caught the skin of the cut and pulled it slightly. Whatever had happened, it was enough to help her fight off her attraction to him and pull back. When Domitian tried to follow, she slapped him sharply across the face and hissed, "Snap out of it! We have to talk about Dressler."
Five
Domitian gave his head a shake and peered down at the little spitfire in front of him. Her face was flushed with desire, her lips full from his kisses, but her eyes were on fire with fury, passion, and despair. It was the despair that reached through his surprise and anger at her slapping him and brought on immediate calm.
They were in a tenuous position and needed to find a way out. The desire and need they were both obviously experiencing was playing havoc with their ability to do so, and they were both suffering under that desire and need. He could see it in Sarita's face. But she was trying to fight it while he had followed his growing erection across the room, thinking only of plowing it deep into the woman presently trying to come up with a way to save them both.
Letting his hands drop away, Domitian straightened and took one slow step back. He nodded and then, voice flat, said, "You are right. We should talk."
He saw regret flicker briefly across her face, but Sarita took a small step back and simply asked, "Do you know why we were kidnapped?"
After a hesitation, he said, "I was kidnapped because I am immortal. Dressler has been collecting immortals for the last couple of years."
"Do you see any other immortals here?" she asked dryly and then pointed out, "And I'm not immortal."
Domitian shook his head slowly, and then eyed her with curiosity and asked, "You have some idea why we are both here?"
Sarita sighed, and nodded unhappily. "Dressler has been experimenting on the immortals he took."
"Experimenting how?" Domitian asked at once with concern.
"I only know about one experiment, but it was absolutely awful," Sarita said grimly and quickly told him about the experiment she'd interrupted and then inadvertently helped with.
"At the end he explained about the nanos that made your kind immortal, and mentioned that my life mate was coming." She frowned and then added, "Before that though, he said he'd made it his business to find out everything he could about your kind. I'm quite sure this experiment was just one of many. I wouldn't be surprised if every one of the immortals he has is strapped to a table with different limbs or pieces missing. The man is sick."
"Madre de Dios," Domitian breathed. His stomach was now churning at the thought of what the one immortal Sarita had seen had suffered and what the others might even now be going through. The worse part was he knew some of those immortals. Hell, he was related to four of them. Glancing at her sharply, he asked, "What color eyes did the man you saw have?"
She appeared surprised at the question, but then thought briefly before saying, "He only opened his eyes once and it was quick, but I remember thinking they were the most beautiful silver-green eyes I'd ever seen."
"Green," Domitian breathed with relief.
"What is it?" Sarita asked with a frown. "Do you know one of the immortals on the island?"
He wasn't surprised she'd guessed that. The woman was smart and a police officer. She was probably trained to put clues together.
"Si. Or at least I know five men who have gone missing and suspect they are on the island," he admitted, but he didn't mention that one was his uncle Victor and another three were his cousins Lucern, Nicholas, and Decker. The fifth man, Santo Notte, was related only by marriage and very loosely at that. He also didn't mention his aunt by marriage, Eshe Argeneau, or her partner Mirabeau La Roche.
"I'm sorry," she said solemnly and Domitian winced as her words made him realize that while none of his relatives could be the man cut in half, they were probably being subjected to other, equally horrible experiments as she'd suggested.
Concern and guilt b
attled within Domitian as he realized that while his relatives were suffering unknown horrors, he'd been dropped into a tropical paradise and was mating with his life mate. Shaking his head, he paced away, and then returned, growling, "Why am I here? Why am I not in a lab being cut up? Why is he not experimenting on me?"
"I think he is," Sarita said quietly.
Domitian stopped midstep and whirled on her. "What?"
She shrugged and gestured to the nightgown she wore and pointed out, "He put us here in this honeymoon haven, left only skimpy gowns for me and boxers for you, along with lots of food, wine, blood for you, and a very big bed."
"Si?" he said, not seeing how that could be an experiment.
"He said he'd made it his business to learn everything about immortals," Sarita pointed out. "I think that must include seeing firsthand the life mate sex he's heard about. There are cameras all over this place. At least inside. I didn't look to see if there are any outside."
She frowned briefly and then shrugged. "I suspect this is part one of the experiment--watching us mate in a natural habitat. The next part is probably to force us to mate in a lab with electrodes all over us to measure heart rate and whatnot, and then take blood tests before, during, and after to check for hormone levels and such."
"El es el Diablo," Domitian breathed with horror.
Suffering the physical pain this man was likely putting the others through was bad enough, but while Sarita tried to hide it, he could see that the idea that someone had filmed and watched their private moments upset her. He couldn't imagine how being forced to perform sexually in a lab with electrodes and whatnot would affect the petite woman before him. And he wouldn't have it, Domitian thought grimly. They would not be making love again until they were away from here and safe.
"Of course," Sarita said now, a scowl on her face, "he could have taken our blood after we . . . you know . . . banged upstairs in the bathroom," she said, flushing a bit. "I lost consciousness. He said that happens, but I woke up in bed instead of on the floor and he could have--"