Dominion (Book 1 of The Dominion Series) (3 page)

"Let's just say vampires have a special touch."

Then he touches my cheek, holding his fingers there and a wave of elation flows through me, washing away the last remnants of sadness from the memory he made me relive. I can't help but close my eyes until it passes. When I can think clearly again, I open my eyes and I believe him when he says he's going to make me forget. I don't want that to happen.

"Which one are you?" I say, hoping to keep him talking so that he's not biting my neck or making me forget. "If you're going to wipe my memory, at least tell me now."

"Curiosity killed the cat," he says and smiles, then runs his fingers along my chin, stroking my skin. "But I'm Michel, the former priest, the once-Bishop of Carcassonne, at least for a few days before it was taken from me by death."

He pronounces it Mee-
shell
, not
Mi
-kul like Americans do. When I hear that he was the priest, I can't help but raise my eyebrows.

"Oh, you're surprised that I was the priest? The chaste one? Well, my chastity was taken from me the day I became a vampire." He says it with such emotion that I know he's been hurt very deeply.

"Please don't make me forget," I whisper.

"I have no choice," he says and he truly looks like he feels regret, his brow furrowed. "You're very sweet, and very lovely and I admit it
is
tempting to induct you into our secret world.
You're
so tempting. You have such unique coloring. Dark hair like silk, and I love your lips," he says and runs his finger over my top lip now and I close my eyes for it's like something passes between us whenever he touches my skin – some kind of strange connection I've never felt before.

"I love your eyes," he continues. "Such a unique shade of hazel. So many flecks of different color – gold, green, brown, even violet. And your freckles," he says and smiles. "They make you look like…" He pauses. "
Vous avez l'air d'un brat.
You look like a brat. I
love
brats, Eve. They always need a good spanking and there's nothing I love more than to deliver a nice spanking on a well-deserving derriere. You know us clerics – so into obedience, discipline and punishment." His eyes have this wicked look in them that's nothing about punishment and everything about pleasure.

Oh,
God
…

"But most of all, Eve, I love your dimples," he says and strokes my cheek. "You're not smiling now, but you did earlier and when I saw them, I had the most inexplicable desire to grab you and kiss them, dipping my tongue into each one."

When I open my eyes, he's no longer smiling. He looks at me for a moment as if deciding, blinking rapidly. Finally, he exhales, his eyes closed for a moment.

"I'll give you the Coles notes version," he says and plays with a lock of my hair, passing it under his nose and breathing in. "Long story short, identical twin brothers, both priests. When the Church turned against our family for tolerating Catharism, my brother Julien left the Church, forsaking his vows, remaining loyal to our father while I remained loyal to the Holy Father." He pauses for a moment, looking down as if remembering hurts.

As he tells this story, he pulls back from me and I can finally breathe almost normally.

"Julien wrote the manuscript," he says and then looks in my eyes. "He's always been far too open about everything, impetuous, indiscreet. On the other hand, I'm a paragon of reticence and discretion. Big fight ensued, a house divided, et cetera, et cetera. Very boring."

I pull away just a bit as well and I can see the manuscript out of the corner of my eye. I briefly consider grabbing it and running, but one thing I
do
know about vampires is that they're preternaturally fast. So am I and I wonder if I could beat him in a race to the front entry…

"I joined the crusade and my brother fought against it," he says, staring at the wall thoughtfully, running a finger along the grain in the wood panel. "Then one week, when we were winning, and I had just taken over the Bishophood of Carcassonne, a monster claimed us both, turning us into vampires and we've been fighting each other ever since, still on opposite sides of the cause. We may be identical in looks, but not in character or temperament. He's adapted to this existence. He wants to keep being a vampire." He turns to me, his eyes dark. "I'm the one trying to kill us all off."

I swear I can see pain in his eyes even now, after eight centuries.

"You want to kill off
all
vampires?"

"Every single one of us."

"Then you're on my side," I say and shake my head. "We should fight together. Don't make me forget."

"I'm on no one's side but God's," he says and looks away again. "If I do this, perhaps I'll get back my immortal soul and then I can die in peace."

He wants to
die
…

"I want to take up my mother's fight," I say. "Please let me remember. You have the manuscript. I
want
you to succeed."

He shakes his head quickly. "Pleading won't work on me, Eve. I'm committed to my path and it doesn't involve pretty pre-med students, however much I'd love to corrupt you."

He presses against me and if I wanted to run, I should have done it while he was still a few inches away. As soon as I feel his body against mine I lose all strength to resist. When he touches my cheek again, my eyes close briefly from this rush of euphoria and every sensible thought flees.

"So lovely," he says, his voice a whisper. "And since you're going to forget this, perhaps just one kiss. You're so like Sleeping Beauty in your innocence. I'd love to awaken you."

"
Don't
," I say, struggling to emerge from the drugged-like state he's put me in.

"You won't remember
me
," he says and strokes my cheek, "but you'll remember my kiss. I can't erase physical memories – just the knowledge of how they came about so this kiss will play in your dreams, in your fantasies. Every human you kiss from now on will always seem somehow inadequate. You'll always wish you could meet someone who would kiss you like this, but you won't, will you?"

And then he takes my face in his hands and his lips press against mine. They're cool and pleasant and even though I intend to fight him and try to pull away, I can't. In a moment, his lips warm against mine, and his breathing becomes more intense, one hand dropping to my shoulder, then down to my hip, pulling me against his body. His lips part and mine do as well without me even being aware of it. His tongue touches mine, cool and wet, and a jolt of desire rushes through my body.

Then, something bizarre happens. It's as if the wall between us – the wall that separates two people – disappears. I feel his senses, the press of my lips against his, the scent of my hair in his nose, the pounding of my heart in his ears, the warmth of my body against his coldness, the soft mounds of my breasts against his chest. I feel myself as he feels me and his desire for me is so much more intense than anything I've ever felt before.

I feel the delicious ache in his groin as his body responds to me and that's a revelation. For a brief moment, I understand men's desire to fuck – their
need
to fuck. He needs it – very much. On top of it all, I feel his bloodlust – his desire for my blood and it almost chokes me with its intensity. My knees weaken, my legs like jelly.

He breaks the kiss, our lips parting, and I'm panting, my heart racing. He smiles as if he enjoys how much he's affected me.

"Now,
cheri
," he says, and takes my face firmly in his hands, his voice husky. "It's time to forget." He stares into my eyes. "You're going to leave the building and once you step outside, you'll look around and wonder why you're here. Then you'll remember that the idiot who told you he'd meet you failed to show up."

He pauses, shaking his head as if he regrets this.

"You'll go home and delete my email. Then you'll forget the email and my name. You'll forget you ever saw the manuscript and you'll rip up and burn any other documents you still have that mention it or me or my brother."

"Please,"
I think
. "Don't make me forget…"

"You'll decide to continue your studies in music instead of medicine and put all your mother's files into storage and forget where you stored them. Soon, you'll forget about vampires entirely. If you ever see me again, you won't think twice about me and move on as if I'm invisible."

I'm leaning against the wall, him pressed up against me, and I'm listening to him but nothing happens.

"Do you understand, Eve?"

I try to brand his name and face on my memory, the kiss, trying to remember the first lines of the story – the image of the full moon stained red from the smoke, the crusades splitting up the brothers, and a vampire taking their lives. Perhaps I could go to the language lab and use a computer, send myself an email describing all this before the memory wipe takes effect…

"I said,
do you understand?
"

I struggle to speak, barely able to even whisper.

"Don't do this, Michel."

He frowns and adjusts his hand on my face.

"Forget me, Eve. Forget the manuscript, forget my name and face. Forget that vampires exist.
Do you
understand
?"

"I don't
want
to forget." I say, my voice breaking. I take hold of his hands, trying to pry them away. "This is my fight as well. Your brother gave that manuscript to my mother for a reason. I don't want to forget this. I want retribution for her killer."

"This is very strange." He steps back and releases me, rubbing his forehead as if he's confused. "I can affect your emotions but I can't compel you."

He stands for a moment and examines me, his hands on his hips. Then, he opens the door.

"Go out of the building. Perhaps it will take effect then."

I shake my head. "I won't leave if it means I'll forget."

"
Eve
," he says, and I can hear the frustration in his voice. "You
have
to forget. You don't want the life you think you're committing to. It killed your mother. It's killed everyone like you. Now
go
. If I have to carry you out and throw you onto the street myself, I will."

I cross my arms. "Fine."

"You
are
a brat. Perhaps I should spank you before I take you outside."

"I'll fight you," I say, standing firm.

"Don't tempt me."

He doesn't smile. Instead, he grabs my coat and backpack and takes my hand, pulling me along with him out of the office, down the hall to the stairs. He doesn't even look at me while we descend as if he's really angry.

Then he drags me to the front door of the building. Outside, the street is deserted and he opens the door, throwing my coat and backpack on the landing and pushes me down the steps. I make it down the first two and despite the fact I've taken years of dance and martial arts and should have better balance, I trip and fall on the last step, going down on my hands and knees, scraping my palms on the rough cement.

"
Shit!
" I struggle to stand, looking at my injured hands. They’re scuffed and scraped. Thin lines of blood seep out of the deeper cuts. I cradle them against my body, breathing in deeply from the pain. There's just been so much emotional shit happen to me tonight, I can't fight tears and once more, my eyes brim.

I turn around and face the door, staring through it but see only darkness. I hold up my palms to show him, because I'm sure he's standing there in the shadows of the entry watching to see if I do forget him. Well. Sorry, you
prick
. I remember you.

"You
are
a bastard," I say, hoping to hurt him. I wipe my eyes on the backs of my hands and bend down to pick up my coat, shrugging it on with difficulty because of my injuries, then I use my thumb to hook the strap of my backpack because I can't bend my hands.

I'm miserable as I walk down the street to the bus stop, wondering when I'll start forgetting, vowing to start my own journal online just in case he comes after me one day and makes me forget. I want a record of everything. My mother kept meticulous notes, and I realize now how important it would be to have a journal and to update it regularly.

While I'm struggling to regain control over my emotions, he walks up wearing a long black coat that resembles a cassock, a messenger bag over his shoulder.

"Sorry to have to tell you this," I say. "But your little trick with the Vulcan mind meld didn't work. I remember
everything
."