Dominic's Nemesis (29 page)

A damp musty odor assailed her nostrils.
Stone and mortar steps led down into hazy darkness, where large
mounds were distinguishable beyond the bottom tier. Something
reckless flared in her and she strode forward, into the bowls of
the mouth-like threshold. A voice from the hidden alcove of her
mind compelled her.
Come to me.

The second she was beyond the safety of the
hallway, a familiar chill seized her…the sudden awareness that she
was no longer alone. For an instant she panicked, froze. That
second of indecision and fear doomed her. A sharp shove at her back
plummeted her down the stone steps. Her body sprawled in a painful
heap, chin-first on the packed dirt floor. The cackle of malevolent
laughter echoed off the walls of her mind. Through slit lids she
watched the curious wedge of light projected from the threshold
grow thinner, too dazed to realize the significance.

Horror dawned as total darkness engulfed her.
The fatal boom of the locking mechanism sliding back into place
from outside jarred her to life. Her breathing went erratic in the
aftermath. She screamed. Her eyes darted back and forth, seeing
nothing. Anxiety beat at her chest, buzzed in her ears. Her mind
screamed. The high-pitched fear more a product of the
entity
’
s possible return
than her entrapment. She went absolutely still, combing the
darkness for any sign of movement or presence. Precious moments
ticked by, nothing. She relaxed in degrees, grateful, despite her
predicament, to be alone.

Common sense told her that she was in no real
danger. The brothers or Kathleen would miss her. They would search
the house and, not finding her in any of her usual havens, would
eventually question the servants. She had caused too big a stir on
the lower levels to be forgotten. They
’
d find her. She just had to be patient until
then.

Soon, curiosity encroached. The entity had
locked her inside…but inside what? She flexed all her muscles,
stiff from maintaining the rigid stillness too long, and pushed up
into a kneeling seat on the dirt floor. Her eyes began to adjust to
the darkness. She noticed after a more composed inspection of her
surroundings that she could make out a repeating row of fat
barrel-like objects lining either side of the floor. But if the
room lay in pitch-blackness how was she able to distinguish even
these murky forms? There must be a faint source of illumination
somewhere.

Cautious, she moved down what seemed to be an
aisle, hugged close on either side by successive rows of barrels.
She paused to run her hand along one of the massive shapes, tapping
the ground around it with her foot. Wooden, rough-hewed, definitely
a barrel…supported by a low-lying frame of some sort. Continuing
down the aisle, the barrels became distinct. Even before she
reached the skull-grey wall, she
’
d identified her prison as the wine vault Atherton
had joked her about.

Tiny morsels of light streamed in from two
age-dulled windows. They were cut into the stone at ground level
and looked up to a half cloudy sky, which had begun to wane into
night. Lined up against the rear wall she found a smaller racking
system, housing wine bottles instead of wine barrels. She rested a
hand on the cool glass neck of one of the top-shelf wines and after
only a moment
’
s
hesitation pulled it out. The label read: Ambrosia, 1801.

* * *

Eden had no idea how long she
’
d been trapped in the vault when
she heard the locking mechanism slide out from its sheath. She
stumbled up from the floor, one hand clawing at the cedar wine rack
to steady herself. The empty bottle that had rested in her lap
plunked against her thigh. She looked down at the forgotten weight
still clutched in her free hand.

“Eden.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of her
name.

“Wee one?”

“Miss Prescott. Are you there?”

“Yes…” The word sounded strange, drug out too
long. Her head swam when she stepped away from her support and
toward the approaching voices. They overtook her wobbling form
midways the aisle.

“Stee-fen. I found you. Hell-o Dr…Dr.” Her
mind wandered in the middle of her thought and she shook her head
to clear it. “Oh, eh, which one are you again?”

“Why she
’
s—” Ethan left off.

“Drunk.” Cael finished succinctly.

“Aye, cocked out of her head, she is.”

“
Foxed
, I believe is the more
appropriate term.” Ethan corrected his wife.

“What
’
s dat streaked in ya hair, lass?”

“Dust and grime most like. Take a look
around.”

“Oh.” Eden swayed. Their prattle made her
head swim.

Stephan uttered not a sound, merely swung her
up into his arms and strode out. Eden allowed her head to lull
against his shoulder. Arms curled around his neck with the wine
bottle dangling from her fingers.

“Hmmm…tired.” She closed her eyes against the
whirling faces and bright seeming lights, content to be carried up
to bed.

Only when the movement stopped and she felt
herself being lowered onto a soft surface did she stir. “No….Dom
said his chamber. Stee-fen.” Lazy eyes pled with him.

“Why dat blimey rascal—”

“Ahem.” Cael cleared his throat stopping his
sister-in-law mid-rant.

A cough penetrated Eden
’
s fogged mind. There they went prattling
again.

“She
’
ll have quite a headache in the morning.” Ethan
declared.

“Serves her right.”
Kathleen humphed.
“Did she have ta finish
tha entire bottle?”

* * *

Dominic shimmered into his chamber expecting
to find her waiting up for him. Instead, she was already abed, a
fire blazing in the hearth. He stood, knees flush with the curved
edge of the bed, and exhaled a sigh, debating whether or not to
wake her. The journey home had been draining. The clandestine
nature of his visit to Italy necessitated excessive astraling, and
he didn
’
t know if
he
’
d be able to continue
consuming energy at such an exhaustive rate. If he did not see her
tonight, most likely he wouldn
’
t see her again until he returned home for
good.

She slept on her stomach, facing away from
him. Her hair unbound and cascading over the pillow in a shadowy
river of light. Over-warm flames played on the milky skin where the
sheets had slipped down to reveal her slender back. She embodied
perfection and radiance. Her soft femininity and gentle spirit
called to him.

As if she could somehow sense his scrutiny or
feel his yearning, she shifted in her sleep…flopping her head over.
Eyes slitted and groggy.

He crouched before her, whispering a kiss on
her cheek. “
Wake for me,
cara.
”

“Hmmm, Dom?” She cocked her head,
sleep-messed and lovely. Bewildered hazel fixed on him.

“I
’
ve missed you.” His hand slid easily into her
silken mane and massaged her scalp as he tugged her closer.

She flew at him with gale force, burying her
face in his neck and wrapped her shockingly naked body around him
in a full-body hug. She felt like heaven in his arms. He relaxed
backward so that he sat on the floor with her atop him.

“How is your brother Gabriel?” She murmured,
twisting her fingers in the thick cotton nightshirt at his chest,
her other arm at his back.

Had he heard her correctly? ‘How is
Gabriel?
’
, not ‘when are
you coming home?
’
or
‘why haven
’
t you visited
before now?
’
Her concern
surprised him. Before, she’d seemed almost antagonistic towards his
brother. “Better, I think, but not altogether himself yet.
I
’
m actually more
worried about Gideon.”

“What is the matter with him?” With the
question, she hummed a contented note.

“He
’
s convinced Gabriel
’
s catatonia is somehow related to his…imminent
death.” He held her to his heart, soothing her hair, caressing her
cheek, running his hands down the smooth skin of her back.

“Is he ill, then?”

“No. He thinks a vision of his death is
what
’
s causing
Gabriel
’
s distress. The
possibility is distressing for me as well. But how are things with
you? Any new
encounters
.” She trembled in his embrace. The
pulse so fleeting that he wasn
’t sure he’
d actually felt it.

“All is well. I
’
ve been getting acquainted with the Athertons. I…I
like Stephan. He
’
s what
I
’
d want for a brother
if I had one.”

It pleased him, he realized. Some feral,
possessive side of him liked that she seemed to be ingratiating
herself into his life, his family…cementing a permanent place.
Courting friendship with Kathleen, gaining approval from Ethan and
Cael, showing concern for Gabriel and now a bond with his youngest
brother. His already heated desire for her flared.

Unable to resist the lure of her lush body
pressed so wickedly against him, his hands wandered lower to cup
her bottom…grind her tantalizing heat into his budding
affection.

“Did you miss me, cara? Hmmm.”

“Oh…yes, Dom.” She moaned into his ear, than
began nibbling at the rim. The hot rush of breath grew his erection
all the more.

Gawd, he couldn
’
t get enough of her…the sweet, peaches and
pomegranate scent he recognized from his bath visits. The
enthralling heat of her body sheathing him like a glove, the quick
little breaths she took…each rise and fall of small plumb breasts
were a teasing torture.

“I must…taste you, cara.” He stood with her,
grateful the bed was only a few steps away. A longer distance would
have been unmanageable at his advanced state of arousal.

Her soft butterfly kisses trailed down his
throat, only halted when he laid her out on the bed and slid down
her body. Kissing and nipping at her collar bone, breasts, and
several points on her delectable flat stomach along the
descent.

She made a disapproving sound. Her hands
converged on his head. Tugging at his hair, trying to halt his
progress. “No, Eden, you
’
ll take pleasure in this. I promise.”

He paused just long enough to give her his
eyes, knowing she liked them and it would quiet her…reassure her of
his affection and that the trust now ran both ways. His hands
restlessly kneading the skin at her hips, slipping lower to cap
over each thigh. She lifted her head off the pillows meeting his
gaze over the mound of her nether hairs.

“
Open for
me.
” And when she did, he nearly came right then and there
from the sweet perfume of her arousal. A quiver troubled his hands
as he lowered his mouth to her threshold, holding her jittery gaze
until the very last moment.

* * *

Eden trembled inwardly at the erotic sight of
Dominic’s midnight head hovering between her V-ed thighs.
Pewter-sapphire orbs glistened with his excitement. She nearly
knifed off the bed when she felt his mouth, delicately kiss her
folds, one, twice, the third time with a slight parting of his
lips…then, his tongue peeked out to lick at her, molest the very
sensitive nub there. Her head felt back.

“Dom….” She tunneled her hands in his hair,
this time to encourage him forward, to do more, and be bolder.

His mouth closed over her most sensitive
areas, the hot wet sucking of his tongue built up a tension in her,
a beat of wanting that pounded through her body demanding to be
satisfied. She couldn
’
t
keep still under the achingly sweet assault. When he used a thumb
to tweak the nub, whilst his tongue
’
s tip edged slightly into her, she knew a moment of
madness. Her breathing staccatoed, hips writhed in sync with his
rhythm, mind screaming in ecstasy. The mini thrust of his tongue
mimicked those of his man
’
s appendage, driving her ever wilder. She was
Icarus, flying too close to the sun, in grave danger of bursting
into flames…

Just as she felt herself about to explode,
his withdrew his lavish tongue and mounded her. She had but a
moment to wait for him to dissolve himself of the pants he wore.
Then, his center aligned with hers, the pulsating heat of his
arousal lay at her entrance. Without preamble, he surged forward,
at the same time closing his mouth over hers in an open-mouth kiss
hotter than the bowels of hell. She took both with a greed abandon,
her body more his than hers. His weight pressing into her, the
heat, the texture of the cotton nightshirt he still wore sliding
luxurious against her skin. The wondrous friction, and spicy
fullness of him pumping endlessly inside her. Pleasure blossomed
like a rare flower until it ignited into a thousand pinpricks of
sensation ravishing her body. She broke the endless kiss in a
scream of release.

Afterward, Dom lay with his head on her
stomach and his body to the side of her. He toyed with her
pink-tipped nipples, fascinated. He wore the nightshirt still, but
didn
’
t seem at all
bothered by her slipping her hands underneath it to caress the
flawed skin at his back.

“You
’
re going to leave again.” He hadn
’
t said, but she knew.

“There is still business to attend to there.
Gideon is insisting that I be prepared to take over the family
lands and legacy in the event of his untimely death.”

“How long will you be gone?” She frowned. Her
head seemed fuzzy all of a sudden, but what he spoke of sounded
like a lengthy process.