At least they’d tried not to kill them, Domitian thought. Although, if these were the ones that Mrs. Dressler had mentioned were loyal to her husband, he wouldn’t feel too bad about their deaths. They’d been complicit in Dressler’s activities, some of which had been directed against his own people.
“After that, Lucian sent the other boats to raid and search the house and labs, and we followed Thorne around to the cottage to make sure his mother and Sarita’s grandmother were all right.”
“Because of me.” That comment came from Basha as she entered the room and joined the conversation.
“It was not because of you,” Lucian said calmly. “Someone had to check on Domitian and Sarita and we had the blood on our boat. If anyone would have needed it, it would have been them.”
“We did not even know they were here,” Basha argued shortly. “And what we had on our boat was me.” Holding up her hand to silence him when he would have argued, Basha asked pointedly, “When before have you ever delegated the battle to others and taken the safer task, Uncle? Never,” she answered herself.
“Basha,” Lucian began.
“Uncle,” she countered, interrupting him. “You really need to let go of your guilt over what you think of as failing to protect me as a child, and stop trying to protect me from everything now. If you do not, I will suggest to Marcus that we move to Italy full-time to be near his family.”
Turning on her heel, Basha left the room then and silence briefly reigned.
“Well,” Bricker said brightly, avoiding looking at Lucian who appeared to have turned to stone. “Where was I? Oh yes, we followed Thorne back. Of course, flying, he got here faster and . . . well, you know the rest.”
Domitian nodded slightly, wincing as the action sent pain radiating through his head. He stopped moving his head in the hopes of ending the pain, but instead it just built and grew, focusing mostly on the back of his skull. The healing had begun, he thought grimly just before he lost consciousness.
Seventeen
Sarita woke up in the guestroom she’d been given in Dr. Dressler’s house and for one moment thought that everything had been a mad, mad dream. After all, who would believe in vampires and winged men? No one, of course, she thought, and then a warm arm slid around her waist, and the scent of the man now spooning her assured Sarita that it hadn’t been a dream. All those wild memories crowding her mind had really happened. Including the first time when she’d woken up and Domitian had told her what had taken place after she’d stumbled into his arms outside the lab.
He’d turned her to save her life. Sarita didn’t know how she felt about that. She wasn’t keen on the whole blood thing. On the other hand, she was even less keen on the whole death thing, so blood won that round, she supposed.
Domitian had also told her that Thorne had taken out four winged hybrids alone, and then had taken an immortal woman named Basha up in the air to use tranquilizer darts on the gilled hybrids. Sarita had much less ambivalence about that. She was glad Thorne was all right and had come through it safely, and while she was sorry for the hybrids who had died, including young Colton who had apparently slipped away during the battle, she was even sorrier for the ones who had fought against the immortals and survived, because their future looked pretty bleak from what she could tell.
Right now they were locked up in cells in the labs where all the others who were now free, had been kept. Rather ironic in her opinion. But there was talk of their being judged by the council. The problem was, no one seemed to be sure which council just yet. Apparently, the South American Council, who had been none too pleased with Domitian’s uncle trampling all over their turf, was now delaying talking to him about what to do about the island and its inhabitants. It meant Lucian and a good portion of his people were stuck here until a decision was made. Something he apparently wasn’t too pleased about, according to Domitian.
And then there was the something Sarita wasn’t too pleased about . . . Dr. Dressler had escaped capture. After Thorne had taken out the hybrids in the air and in the water, the Rogue Hunters had attacked the island. Dressler’s security men had put up a bit of a fight and a couple of immortals had been knocked out by darts. But when the locked-up immortals and hybrids had been freed to join the fray, the security men had soon given up. The overriding consensus had been that Dressler didn’t pay well enough for them to risk their lives.
It didn’t matter, though—it was too late. Dressler had apparently already made his escape. Despite repeated questioning, no one seemed to know where El Doctor might be until hours had been wasted searching every inch of the island. Only then did MacNeil “suddenly recall” that Dressler had a boat in a hidden cave on the side of the island behind the house.
By that time, the boat was long gone, of course, as was Dressler, Asherah, and an immortal Asherah had apparently gone to fetch after assisting in Sarita’s escape. The immortal was Davies, the man Sarita had first seen cut in half. And no one was sadder than her to hear that news. The man had surely suffered enough. What more could Dressler visit on him? No one knew, but Lucian had sent hunters out searching for the trio, hoping to capture Dressler and save Davies and Asherah.
Speaking of Asherah, Sarita was a bit confused when it came to how she felt about the woman. She’d seemed all right in the end. She’d even saved Sarita’s life. Well, actually she’d stabbed Sarita and damned near killed her, but then she’d helped her to escape. However, there was something troubling Sarita about that whole escape thing. Domitian had told her that Asherah claimed Dressler had sent her out to talk to the guard in the gatehouse when she’d gone out to help Domitian. But Asherah had told her a different story. She’d claimed that she’d seen Domitian on the camera, distracted Dressler until he was safely past, and then made an excuse to leave and lead him safely to the building. They were two different stories, and Sarita had been trained to look for inconsistencies in people’s stories. It was a clear sign of the unreliability of a witness and sometimes a sign of an attempt to cover up a crime. Sarita was a little concerned about what Asherah might have been covering up.
Pushing that thought from her mind, she snuggled closer against Domitian and sighed with satisfaction. He was such a good man. While he and her grandmother had sat at her bedside as she went through the turn, he’d apparently explained what he and now Sarita were to her abuela. Her grandmother had taken it better than Sarita had expected, although she did now wear three crosses and pray a lot for their souls. Other than that, she seemed fine, though.
Sarita stilled as Domitian shifted, his hand sliding to rest over her breast through the sheet. When he stopped there, his breathing deep, she decided he was still asleep and closed her eyes with another smile. As he’d promised, now that the danger was over, he was wooing her as he felt she wanted. She had only been awake a week, but he’d already brought her flowers and candy, and had even taken her on two actual dates . . . with her grandmother accompanying them.
It seemed Grandmother thought they needed a chaperone. For the first date he’d taken them to dinner at one of his restaurants. Sarita had actually enjoyed herself. Talking to Domitian was easy, and the three of them had laughed a lot as they ate. Sarita suspected she wouldn’t have experienced that if they’d been by themselves. They wouldn’t have lasted through the appetizers before they were rushing out of the restaurant to find the nearest safe spot to have sex and pass out. Instead, they’d stayed for hours, chatting and laughing before flying back to the island in the helicopter. After a chaste kiss under her grandmother’s watchful eye, Domitian had left them at the cottage and departed for the big house where he, along with Lucian and some of the hunters, were staying until the situation on the island was resolved.
Their second date had been dancing, an overnight stay at his mainland home, and a trip to visit the graves of Sarita’s father and grandfather the next day. It seemed Grandmother had mentioned to Domitian that dancing was the one thing she’d missed most besides her husband and son while a prisoner on the island. Domitian had decided that was where he would take Sarita on her second date . . . with Grandmother as chaperone. It seemed he wasn’t above ingratiating himself with the old lady to win Sarita. But she hadn’t minded. She’d actually enjoyed it. Her grandmother’s presence had forced them to behave and Domitian had spent the night dancing with first one of them and then the other.