Dominion (Book 1 of The Dominion Series) (9 page)

"Good
night
, Eve."

Then he's gone and I sit alone in the booth.

I'm back in my apartment a few moments later, glad to be home, my nerves all on edge. I have a bath to warm up, and then return to my mother's files and start sorting through them, hoping to find something about the SCU and the tests to be an Adept but can't find anything in the first new box I open. It's then I hear a knock at my door.

I go and check the peephole. It's Michel.

I unlock the door and peer at him. He has a big smile on his face.

"Hello," I say, unable to not smile back.

"I just wanted to come over, see how you're doing. I brought this," he says and holds up the manuscript. "I thought I'd read a bit for you."

I'm in my nightgown and socks, but I want to hear him read the manuscript so I open the door. He comes in and I can feel his gaze move over my body. My nightgown is to the knee and flimsy and I have no underwear on.

"You'll have to excuse me," I say. "I just got out of the bath."

He makes that throat sound and steps inside and takes off his boots and coat. I take his coat and hang it in my closet and motion to the tiny living room.

"I'll be right back," I say. "Make yourself at home."

I go to the armoire in my bedroom and take out the matching robe that goes with my nightgown and slip on some panties. Then I return to see he's standing in the living room, glancing around.

"Can I get you anything to drink? What would you like?" I point to the kitchen but stop speaking when I see his expression. He's smirking, a very wicked smirk, and I know what he's thinking. I can't repress a smile in spite of myself.

"Ah, those dimples," he says and reaches out to touch my cheek. "Remind me to make you smile more often. But now that I've tasted you, Eve, you must know I'll want you."

I frown and fear races through me.

"Don't be afraid," he says. "I'll want you but I won't drink your blood. I have donors."

He must do something to calm me, for I relax at his touch and then he drops his hand. I go to the kitchen to get a glass of water for myself for the night's events make me feel as if I've just run a marathon. He's serious once more when I get back. I sit across from him, the glass of water in my hand, butterflies in my stomach.

"First," he says. "I want to say how pleased I was by your performance tonight. If there was any doubt about your worth to us before, there can be none now. You're very gifted. I'll need to train you, of course, but once you are fully trained, you'll be so very important to us."

I can't help but respond to his words. I'm pleased that I did well. It makes me feel warm inside.

Then he leans over and takes my hand from across the coffee table.

"Just know that I never wanted this for you. I did everything I could to prevent it."

I nod. He did try to keep me out.

"Michel, tell me how it is between vampires and humans. I know there's the treaty. But beyond that."

He considers for a moment and inhales deeply as if steeling himself.

"The Treaty prevents vampires from killing humans for their blood. But it says nothing about the relationship between us. Eve, between humans there exist laws and rights and responsibilities. You are equal before the law. There are laws to protect you from each other. There are no such laws that govern relations between vampires and humans. There are no rights. There are no protections save one – the prohibition against murder." He glances away as if it’s hard for him to admit this. "In our dealings with humans, for the most part, you are our servants, our slaves. At the most, you are our subordinates. Never our equals."

I frown. "Why? Who would agree to that?"

"The Council. They knew that vampires would never consent to a treaty if it meant that we would be expected to treat humans as our equals. We're not. We are stronger, faster, more able. Our senses are sharper. Our minds faster. We can compel you. We can control you. We are your masters. Only humans like you – those who can’t be compelled, are immune to compulsion. You’re the wildcards. The problems."

"So you treat humans like servants and slaves?"

He nods. "That is the way it's done. You will find very few vampires with any power who treat humans as equals."

I don't say anything for a moment, the knowledge not sitting well in my gut. Slaves? Servants? Subordinates?

"What about you?"

He hesitates. "When I am with other vampires, I fit in. When I am on my own? I don’t tend to interact with humans. In my dealings with humans through the SCU, I rely on rank to determine how I treat a human. Most are automatically my subordinates."

I make a face. I don’t like that. Not one bit.

"I'm sorry, Eve, to be the one to tell you this. It’s the truth. My kind view you as food. As toys. As amusements. As tools."

"I don’t know what to say."

"When you're with me, when we are around other vampires, its essential that you adopt the proper decorum. You have to act subordinate or else you'll be at risk, at least until you learn to fight and avoid being ambushed."

I sigh and point to the manuscript. "Are you going to read?"

He opens it to the first page, running his finger under the text. He reads for a moment and then inhales heavily as if the words are painful.

"La pleine lune se lève, vitraux rouge des incendies dans la place du village..."
he says, reading first in French, his voice hesitant, already filling with emotion. He sounds so cultured with his soft French accent. It contradicts the content of the words he reads.

"A full moon rises, stained red from fires in the village square where five heretics burn at the stake. The Crusades broke my family, estranged me from my brother and now have killed me. I died, not on the battlefield as befitting a knight protecting my father's estate, but in a bed in an abandoned castle at the hands of an ancient vampire who bewitched me."

He pauses for a moment, and I realize that this is very painful for him, and part of me feels incredible guilt that I'm intruding on his privacy.

But I don't stop him from reading.

~~~

A medic stands impassively at my feet. He checked me over moments ago, his face grim.

"This one," the medic says and points down at me. A woman on a horse comes into focus. She's blurry, but I can tell she's beautiful with the palest skin and ruby lips. She'll be the last thing I see in this world. God has taken pity on a dying knight to give him this last vision of beauty.

She slips off the horse and kneels down beside me.

"Will he die?"

"Yes," the medic says. "That's what you wanted, my Lady? The ones not yet dead, but who will not survive?"

"Yes," she says. "Only those. I relieve them of their pain as they lie dying. It is the oath of my holy order. The ones who are dead are already with the Lord. The ones who will survive do not need me."

The truth spoken so clearly brings tears to my eyes despite my resolve to die with honor. The medic makes the sign of the cross and helps her roll me over onto my side and the pain takes my breath away. I groan and grit my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut.

Please God stop...

"This is one of the Comte's loyal vassals," she says as she rolls me onto my back once more. "Bring him to my tent."

"If he's the Comte's, shouldn't he be taken to the city?" the medic asks, wiping his hands on his tunic.

"No." Her voice is firm. She takes the medic's chin in her hand, staring into his eyes. "Take him to my tent." The medic stares back, open-mouthed, as if bewitched.

"I'll take him to your tent," he says, his voice flat.

She turns away, re-mounting her horse, and rides off.

The two ragged young men set to work, unrolling a pallet, struggling to lift me onto it and every movement brings another wave of pain. All I want is for them to end my life quickly but that prayer goes unanswered like all the others.

I wake, lying on a table, my teeth chattering.

"Why aren't you dead, beautiful Sir Knight?" she whispers. "Your wounds would kill any man."

I hiss in pain as she removes my chainmail hauberk and undershirt. Finally, she lays her hand over my brow, and in a moment, a sense of bliss spreads through me.

"Beautiful Julien," the blonde woman whispers, her face close to mine, her lips beside my ear, brushing my cheek. "Yes, I know who you are, Sir Knight. I've been watching you for a while. Should I be merciful and let you die or should I heal you and take you for my own? Do you want to die?"

"No," I gasp, for I don't believe in heaven.

She leans down and kisses my lips. "Then I'll heal you." She bites her own wrist, drawing blood with sharp white teeth, and places the wound over my mouth.

"Drink," she says, holding it against my lips, pinching my nose, forcing me to swallow or suffocate. I struggle, horrified at what she does, but she's so strong. "Drink and receive eternal life."

I swallow – my body forces me and after the first mouthful, an incredible need fills me and I must drink. I grab her wrist, and suck, for the blood is so sweet. And then darkness closes in once more.

An incredible headache pounds in my temples when I next awaken. The bright sun beaming in from the window beside the bed makes my eyes burn and so I throw a hand over my face and take an accounting of my body. I'm naked beneath a thick coverlet and my body feels as if I've just come back from battle.

Which, of course, I have – outside Carcassonne. I remember now. How have I come to this place? And more importantly, where am I? The rooms are unfamiliar.

Cradling my aching head, I sit up on one elbow and glance around. A fire blazes in the hearth, and beside it sits a woman with very pale skin and, due to some trick of lighting, with eyes that seemed to glow red in the firelight. A very beautiful woman with waist-length flaxen hair. She wears a thin nightdress and I can see the hint of a rosy nipple through the muslin.

"I remember you, but my apologies, my Lady. I can't place your name."

"You don't know me, but I know you, Sir Julien de Cernay, Knight Defender of the Comte de Toulouse," she says and crosses the floor to stand in the shadows at the foot of the bed. "Bastard son of Vicomte de Clarmont, identical twin of Michel, the very new Bishop of Carcassonne. You're finally awake. How do you feel?"

"Like shit," I say and grimace at the loudness of my own voice. "Michel's a Bishop now? What of my father?"

"Dead."

I frown. He was a brutal father, but still my only one and a wave of sadness fills me. She watches me carefully as if gauging my response.

"Carcassonne is now in French hands," she says and continues her story. "Michel was given the Bishophood for his loyalty to the Church, while your father lost his life for going against it."

Michel the Bishop. He has everything he wants now – our father dead and the Bishophood. Betraying our family was good for him.

"What happened to me? The last thing I remember was the battle. How did I come to this place? Who are you?" I try to sit up fully, but when I do, my head pounds. "Do you have some wine? I'm very thirsty."

"My name is Marguerite," she says and smiles beguilingly. "Wine won't slake the thirst you have, my love."

My love ... So that's how it is between us. I wish I could remember...

Marguerite. Her age is hard to guess for she appears rather fragile with paler-than-pale skin. She leans against the post at the corner of the bed and the neck of her gown falls open to the waist, revealing delicious curves…

Michel stops reading for a moment and I'm pulled out of the story.

"What's the matter?"

"It's very explicit. Are you certain you want me to continue?"

I nod, embarrassed that I'm such a voyeur for their pain.

"Very well," he says, as if he's reluctant. He reads for a moment and then clears his throat.

"Strangely, my flesh doesn't respond to the sight of her naked breast. Yes, I admire its heavy fullness, the creamy skin, the puckered nipple but whether it's my headache or thirst – I can't tell which – I don't feel the familiar ache in my groin that I expect when a beautiful half-naked woman stands at the foot of my bed.

"I need something strong," I say. "I feel like the dead."

She laughs, a light sound like crystal being struck.

"You're more right than you think."

"How did I get here? I have no memory..."

"I'm not surprised," she says and comes closer to me, but stops at the edge of the beam of sunlight that streams into the room and falls over me "I found you near death on the battlefield and brought you to my tent. I," she says and hesitates. "I healed you, beautiful Sir Knight. I brought you here. I saved your life."

"Thank you, of course," I say, squinting against the light. I hold up a hand and shade my eyes. "Do you think you could close the drapes? The light is murder on my eyes."

She goes to a small table by the hearth and rings a bell to summon the servants. When she turns back to me, she examines me like I'm a new toy or prized possession. I don't remember fucking her, but I must have. I'm naked. She's practically naked. My body feels – well, it feels as if I've bedded a dozen women and been beaten by each one of their husbands.

In comes a servant girl, her head bowed as she stands in front of Marguerite.

"My Lady?"

"Close the drapes. And bring in the girl. Quickly."

The servant bows and then closes the drapes so that the room is now dim with the exception of several candles and the light from a flickering hearth. I exhale in relief. My eyes felt somewhat better but my head still aches and my throat feels as if it's lined with sand. My belly growls with a hunger that seems to fill my veins, and my upper jaw throbs as if I've had my teeth kicked in. I run my tongue over my teeth. Two protrude, unfamiliar in their prominence, sharper than I remember.