Her grandmother had truly enjoyed herself and so had Sarita. But, dear God, dancing with Domitian had been sweet torture. His body pressing against hers, his hands on her, his breath on her ear. He’d driven her wild and there hadn’t been a darned thing she could do about it with her grandmother there. Not even once they’d got to Domitian’s home afterward.
At first Sarita had been too stunned at the décor to think about her need for Domitian. She’d peered around at the potted plants, the overstuffed light-colored furniture, and the beautiful hardwood floors and had thought this was the home she’d always dreamt of. The one she’d planned to make for herself one day, and here Domitian had created it for himself. It had made her wonder about those nanos. Maybe they really knew their business. Domitian certainly seemed to suit her in a lot of ways.
Sarita heaved a little sigh and peered at the wall across from her as her mind whirled with the chaos that had claimed it for days as she considered all her options and all her wants and needs. She hadn’t just been dancing and visiting graves this past week, she’d spent a lot of time helping her grandmother and Mrs. Dressler as they assisted the hybrids on the island. The two women had made it their mission to make sure that as many of them as possible could have normal lives.
For some that wasn’t feasible. Like Thorne, their differences were too noticeable and would make their having a life approaching anything near normal unattainable. But for others it was possible, and the two women were determined to make it happen for those they could. It turned out they had the finances to do it too. It seemed the money Dressler had so happily been spending was his wife’s. Elizabeth Salter Dressler had inherited a fortune from her grandparents before marrying Dressler, and later had inherited her parents’ even more substantial fortune.
Now that Dressler was out of the picture, Elizabeth was taking back her power and her money. She’d reverted to her maiden name and had all her money moved so that El Doctor couldn’t access it. She’d then placed nearly half of it in an account for Thorne, and intended to use the rest to help the hybrids.
For Sarita just a week of helping these people had been more satisfying than a year as a police constable, and with not even 1 percent of the stress so far . . . And that was part of her problem and the reason for the chaos in her mind. When she’d first woken up to find she’d been turned, Sarita had felt a little lost and so had instinctively turned to her old life for comfort. She’d determined she would stay for a week or so and then return to the safety and comfort of her home and job in Canada. Domitian had already said when they were on the little island that he would enjoy living closer to his sister and would follow her and woo her as she deserved, so she hadn’t even considered him in the decision. But she had asked her grandmother to return and live with her, and her grandmother had jumped at the chance and seemed really excited.
But that was part of the problem. Now that she was adjusting to the idea of being an immortal, Sarita found she had less interest in returning to Canada and her job. She found helping the hybrids satisfying, and she liked spending lazy afternoon siestas in bed with Domitian. But she didn’t want to disappoint her grandmother either, or make her stay on an island that had been a prison to her for fifty years.
A soft snore sounded behind her and she grinned to herself, acknowledging that the truth was, now that he was wooing her as he felt she deserved, Sarita didn’t really need it. Something had shifted in her. Or perhaps it was just that everything was blending together to make her realize how much they suited each other, from his home being her dream home to how his sense of humor matched hers, how their taste in foods seemed to be always lining up, and how they had danced together as smoothly as if they’d been doing it their whole lives. While she knew she couldn’t possibly love him already, she felt in her bones that she belonged with Domitian.
A soft tap at the door sounded and Sarita slipped quickly out of bed, tugging her clothes back into order as she rushed to answer it. That was one benefit of life mate sex—it all happened so fast and furious they rarely managed to get all of their clothes off, she thought wryly as she reached the door.
“Hi,” Eshe said softly when Sarita opened the door.
“Hi,” Sarita responded with surprise. She hadn’t seen the woman since they’d been locked in the cells. Eshe, along with the other hunters had been out searching for Dressler, Asherah, and Davies morning, noon, and night since they’d disappeared.
“Got a minute?” Eshe asked.
“Of course.” Sarita slipped into the hall, easing the door silently closed and then followed Eshe up the hall, her mind whirling with curiosity as she tried to figure out what this was all about.
“It’s beautiful here,” Eshe commented a few minutes later as she led Sarita out into the gardens. “Hard to imagine the nightmare Dressler made it into for everyone when you look at such beauty.”
“Yeah,” Sarita agreed, peering out over the well-tended gardens.
“I wanted to talk to you about Domitian,” Eshe said, leading her along a path with tall flowers growing on either side of it.
“Oh?” Sarita asked, suddenly wary.
“You know you love him, right?” she asked.
Sarita swallowed and glanced away, her brow furrowing. “I’ve only known him for—”
“Cut the crap,” Eshe said not ungently, and Sarita blinked and turned back to her with surprise. Smiling, Eshe said, “Kiddo, I’ve been alive for a long time and—”
“How long?” Sarita asked with curiosity. Honestly, none of these people looked over thirty and most of them looked more like twenty-five. Yet Domitian was fricking ancient.
“I was born in 1446 b.c.,” Eshe said matter-of-factly.
“Did people exist back then?” Sarita asked, trying to wrap her mind around that number. Was there any history back then? She didn’t remember studying anything that old. Wasn’t that the ice age or something?
“The last ice age was eleven or twelve thousand years ago,” Eshe said dryly, obviously reading her mind.
“Right . . . and you were only born three thousand, five hundred years ago . . . give or take a couple decades,” Sarita added sarcastically. “God!”
Eshe laughed at her expression and said, “Look. I just wanted to talk to you before I go because Victor was saying Domitian is worrying that you aren’t letting him in and aren’t acknowledging your feelings for him.”
“I don’t know what my feelings are,” Sarita said with frustration. “They’re all a jumble and I can’t think straight when he’s around. I mean I know I want him. He’s like crack to my crack ho, but—” She shook her head helplessly.
“Hmm,” Eshe murmured. “And yet you were willing to die for him in the cells.”
“That was so Dressler wouldn’t know how to become immortal,” Sarita argued.
“No. Actually, what you said, and what I read from your mind at the time,” she added firmly, “was that you would rather die than allow Domitian to live knowing he’d given Dressler the information he needed to become immortal, and feeling guilty for any deaths and torture that followed. That’s dying for Domitian, so he wouldn’t suffer guilt.”
Sarita stared at her.
“What? You gonna deny it?” she asked and then said simply, “You love him, Sarita. This isn’t earth-shattering news to anyone but you. As immortals we know that we’ll love a life mate if we’re fortunate enough to find them. It’s a simple fact. And down deep you know you love him. It’s just the mores and traditions of your mortal life that are hanging you up. According to them you can’t love him yet and should wait to accept or admit it until a suitable period of time has passed.”
Turning, she started walking again and added, “And you’re free to do that. But I hope you don’t, kiddo, because Domitian has waited a long time for you already and he deserves to be happy. As do you. And it pains me to know you’re struggling with this when it’s all so simple.”
Sarita followed, thinking it really was simple. She had wanted to die that day to save Domitian a lifetime, a very long lifetime, of guilt. And she would die for him now to save his life if necessary. He was a special man, so patient and kind and passionate. She’d never met anyone like him. Never dated anyone she respected as much or cared as much about. She did love him, Sarita acknowledged, whether she’d known him as long as society would deem long enough or not.