Dominion (Book 1 of The Dominion Series) (29 page)

"You have no idea who you are, either of you," he says and points at us. "Still, the Dragon has returned. He must be defeated. We must all watch and be vigilant and those of us who can, must try to destroy Him."

Michel turns away as if he can't bear to listen any more.

"The Dragon and St. Michael have been fighting for thousands of years," Antonio says. "You think you've read church history but you have not read it all, not even close. But don't believe me. After all, I am just an old man, am I not? Go," Antonio says and waves his hand. He picks up a piece of cardboard and places it over his head to protect himself from the rain, which has just started once more. "Be with God."

Michel turns to me. "I have an appointment with the Bishop about Julien. Do you have a ride? It's not safe for you out here alone."

"I'll call a cab," I say and hold up my cell. "Don't worry about me."

"Let me get my driver to take you home." He takes my head in his hands and pulls me closer, kissing my forehead. "I can't have anything happen to you."

"It's OK. I'm just going to look at the crime scene again and then I'll call a cab."

"Just let my driver know when you're ready, and he'll take you. I won't let you go home alone, Eve. You shouldn't even be here."

Michel opens his cell and speaks into it, and his limo drives up.

"Take it when you're ready."

I nod and watch Michel enter the long winding path to the cathedral, knowing there's nothing I can say to comfort him. I want so much to be with him, but he hasn't asked and I know this must be a lonely journey for him.

The rain starts again and so I open my umbrella and walk along the sidewalk towards the crime scene. I stand alone in the deserted garden. The police and forensic units have long gone. Only a lone ribbon of yellow tape flapping in the wind marks the spot as a crime scene.

I enter the enclosure and stand in the center of the darkened garden, trying to imagine what Julien was doing here so late the night before. From where I stand, the lights from the street cast a baleful yellow glow over the area, but it does little to illuminate the enclosure. Tall firs and oaks line the wall and block out most of the light so that it's almost completely dark. The street noises are muted and only the sound of the rain pattering on my umbrella fills the silence. The previous night, the rain wasn't as heavy, but it had been constant. Why had Julien come here at midnight, to meet his killer alone? Was this part of some cult to which he belonged?

I glance up, feeling the odd sensation of being watched. A figure stands in the entry, no umbrella in hand. After a moment, he walks over to me. Michel. He says nothing as the rain falls and drenches him so that his eyelashes cling to each other and rain drips off his cheeks.

"I thought you had a meeting with the Bishop."

"I can't relax until I know you're safe. Have you found anything?"

"No," I say. "Come under the umbrella. The rain's cold." I hold it up, but he declines with a shake of his head.

"Then come over here under the trees for shelter. You're soaked."

"I'm dead," he says, his voice bitter. "What does it matter?"

I take his arm and pull him to the shelter of one of the tall firs. Underneath, only a few errant drops of rain fall through the canopy of needles. I close my umbrella and stand still in the ensuing silence.

I squeeze his arm in comfort.

Michel shakes his head. His hair is soaked and his thick lashes clumped from the rain – or tears.

"He was so good to me," he says, his voice breaking. For a moment, he says nothing, and I can see him struggling with his composure. "Despite everything, he treated me so well."

"He loved you very much, despite how he teased you," I say. "How hard will it be to get an Ancient's blood to restore him?"

Michel sighs. "I'll get Soren to do the rite tomorrow, but the price will be very high." Then he touches my cheek lightly, saying nothing, reaching up to cup my face and I lean into his hand. I realize he's using his powers to take away my sadness, and in that moment, I feel a surge of something for him that surprises me. Whether it was his doing, or just a flash of insight, I don't know. All I know is that he was never a monster, no matter what he's done.

In the darkness, he reaches out and folds me in an embrace, his arms tightening around me. Our skin doesn't touch and so we're just two people embracing, providing each other comfort. I rest my head against his shoulder. He's silent for a long moment and it feels so comforting to be in his arms.

"Soren arranged all this," he says, his voice filled with emotion. "All of it like one big chess game. He wants one of us. He'll want Julien's servitude in return for reviving him."

I can think of nothing to say in response. Then, movement catches my eye and I turn, my heart racing, only to find Antonio standing on the pathway a few steps away from us. Like Michel, he's drenched from the rain.

"This is where they stood," Antonio calls out. The old man points to a spot off the pathway. "I held up my crucifix and tried to stop it, to make it leave Julien alone, but I was not strong enough. Julien was already under its spell."

Michel doesn't move. I'm transfixed as well, imagining it in my mind's eye.

"The demon tried to stop me, but I fought it," Antonio says, his voice gaining strength and emotion. "Then it killed Julien, staking him. It threw him across the clearing as if he were no more than a rag doll. He fell onto the ground here." Antonio points to a tall fir beside the walkway.

Michel moves closer and examines the spot but there's nothing to see. Whatever blood there was has been washed away in the rain.

"You must take up the fight, Michel," Antonio says. "You must follow in his footsteps. Give in to God's plan. But there are sides. Choose carefully."

Michel pushes past the old man and leaves the garden. I follow him to the park's exit and he stops and waits for me.

I touch his arm. "He's a crazy old man. Ignore him."

"Not as crazy as you might think."

"Tell me, then."

"Eve," he says and rubs his forehead. "I'm taking some time off while I make arrangements to revive Julien." He looks at me. "You're not safe. I'm going to have to teach you to look after yourself. I want you to meet me tomorrow night at the dojo. If I'm leaving you unprotected, I'm doing things my way. I have to go to my appointment, but you need to go home now. Promise me you'll use my driver and go home right away."

"Of course I will."

"Wait up for me," he says and touches my cheek. "I'll be over later. Have a nice bath. Wear that pretty little nightgown. Be ready for me. I
need
you."

That makes my heart swell with emotion and my body respond. He leaves my side and walks down the lane to the monastery without looking back. When I glance back to the garden, the old man stands in the center where Julien died, still unprotected from the rain that now falls in torrents.

CHAPTER TWENTY

"They sicken of the calm who knew the storm."

Dorothy Parker

The driver takes me home and drops me off, watching until I get safely into the building. I feel almost dizzy waiting for Michel to come by, remembering his words. Heat rises to my cheeks, my body responding at the thought he needs me. Since I arrived home, every time I have a moment, I can't help but think of Michel and what he'll do when he arrives.

The time passes slowly. As he directed, I have a bath and lie submerged in the warm water, running my soapy hands over myself. I'm tempted to just quickly do myself for my arousal is so great at the thought of what will happen but I don't.

I dress in my nightgown as he said and sit in the living room watching television and waiting, but he doesn't show and soon, it's nearing three o'clock in the morning and I'm exhausted. Perhaps something came up to delay him, or perhaps he isn't coming after all and this was all just a lesson for me to learn patience.

If so, it hurts quite a bit.

I say goodnight to the cats and then slip under the covers. I look at the clock – it says 3:28 – he won't be coming tonight and I almost decide to masturbate and get it over with but hold back. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes but I dig my nails into my palms and refuse to cry.

Then, I hear a key in the door and turn over to watch the hallway. The lights flick on, and my body, still swollen and aching, responds immediately and I laugh at myself – Pavlov's dog has nothing on me.

Michel enters the apartment and comes immediately to the bedroom, striding over to the bed, his gaze fixed on me. I sit up and when he gets to the side of the bed, he throws back the covers and leans over me, forcing me back onto the bed beneath him.

"This is how it's going to be, Eve," he said, his face inches from mine, his voice low. I smell his cologne and feel his bulk against me. He still had his leather gloves on, and on top, his black cassock coat. He pulls off my nightgown so that I'm completely naked beneath him, then he grabs my hands and holds them over my head. "You aren't going to say a word. You're just going to comply. No preliminaries. I'm just going to fuck you.
Now
."

He drags me to the edge of the bed, positioning me so that I'm level with his hips and he unbuckles his pants, unzips and without undressing at all, pulls out his erection, which is thick and dripping. He leans over me, pressing against me so that his length slides between the lips of my sex and he holds my hands in his gloved one. His mouth is almost touching mine, but not quite.

"I'm not going to kiss you. I'm not going to touch you except when I want to for my pleasure. Do you understand?"

I nod, barely able to breathe, my pulse rapid, a mix of fear and desire battling inside of me.

"I said, do you understand?"

"Yes," I say.

"Yes,
what
?"

I look in his eyes and they're half-lidded, and I don't know what he wants me to say. Yes, please? Yes,
Master
? I can't say that word yet. It doesn't feel real yet.

"Yes, please," I say and I can barely breathe from the strength of my lust.

He just stares into my eyes and then he stands up and he enters me, fully, right to the hilt, exhaling as he does, his eyes closing.

"Oh,
yes
," he says, his voice husky. "You're so nice and wet, Eve. Nice and warm. Nice and tight." He removes a glove with his teeth and reaches down, feeling the hard nub of my clit with the fingers of his free hand. With the other, he keeps my hands confined. I try not to respond, but can't help gasping at the feel of his fingers on my flesh. "Nice and
hard
. Almost ready to burst."

He starts to thrust inside of me, one hand squeezing my breast, my nipple between his finger and thumb. I watch him from beneath my lashes as his gaze moves over my body, from my face to my breasts and down to watch himself thrusting inside of me.

Then, he leans down further, supporting his weight on his elbow so that his face is above mine, my legs now spread wide. I close my eyes.

"
Don't
close your eyes," he says. "Look at me."

I do, staring into his blue eyes, his expression one of lust and determination. Because of his position, his pubic bone rubs against me with each deep thrust. The sensations build inside me, enhanced multiple times by his own lust and his own pleasure in my body. Even though I didn't think I'd get enough direct stimulation I know I can come this way. I bear down with each of his thrusts, squeezing my muscles, trying to increase the pressure when his body meets mine. He's only going to care about his own pleasure? I am as well, gritting my teeth with the effort to increase the sensations.

He doesn't stop me, just watches me, his gaze moving from my face to our bodies joining, his erection sliding in and out of me. Finally, as his pace quickens, it's enough and I feel the start of my orgasm.

"I'm going to come," I say but he doesn't reply. Waves of pleasure start deep inside of me, my muscles tensing, contracting, my body arching as my orgasm begins. I can't hold back a groan of pleasure, my eyes closing despite my best efforts, my body spasming around him as he thrusts even more rapidly inside of me.

Then he follows, his thrusts erratic, pausing while fully inside me, his lips by my ear, grunting with each thrust as he ejaculates.

When he's finished, he just lies on top of me for a moment, his face beside mine, his mouth by my ear, his breathing rapid. He presses his mouth against my neck, his tongue on my skin, and I know he's feeling my pulse, wishing he could bite me, drink my blood. I'm willing, but he isn't.

He pulls away and stares into my eyes, his gaze intense.

"No more doubt, Eve. No more uncertainty. I expect complete submission from you starting right now. Soren's raised the stakes and I need you to trust me completely from here on in. I won't accept anything less than complete obedience and if you don't obey, I'll punish you. Do you understand?"

I nod, unable to speak.

"I said, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"From now on," he says, breathless. "You won't wear anything but your nightgown in the apartment. Nothing under it. Every night after work, you'll have a bath and wait for me like you did tonight. No more masturbating unless I tell you to and I'm watching. I want you ready for me whenever I need you. Any time of the night, any night of the week."

Then, he rises up, tucks himself in, zips up and fastens his belt.

He turns and leaves the apartment.

I roll onto my side, my body still vibrating from the experience. I understand what just happened.

I've just been fucked by my Master.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"Love is the poetry of the senses."

Balzac

Michel's waiting in the dojo when I arrive for my shift at seven, and as soon as I see him, I'm like Pavlov's little submissive, all warm and wet. On top of my desire for him, there's a strange excitement in my belly at the prospect of him teaching me how to kill a vampire properly – and as acting as his proper submissive.