Domitian nodded.
“He made him turn him,” she guessed.
Domitian shook his head. “Apparently he turned himself. Nearly chewed Davies’s arm off to do it too.”
Sarita winced. “So Dressler killed Asherah.”
“He drained them both dry, Davies and Asherah. She died, but most of Davies’s nanos moved into his organs. He was suffering until help came, but alive. Poor bastard.” He ran a hand through his hair and said, “As for Asherah, she made her own bed. She was never trying to help us when she arranged your escape. That was Dressler thinking his ten steps ahead as usual. His plan was to wound you mortally and let you go so I would turn you in front of the cameras he had placed in the cottage during the search. He did not even stick around until I turned you. Once I had you and was headed back to the cottage, he had Asherah grab Davies and take him to the boat in the cave. They were gone before the hunters made the island.”
“Oh,” Sarita said quietly.
“Davies says they were on the way to the mainland by the time I got you to the cottage and turned you. Dressler watched it on the boat, and the minute they got to his apartment in town, he attacked Davies. Bit his arm over and over to be sure “it took.” I guess he didn’t take bagged blood with him. The plan was that Davies would supply the blood he needed.”
“But we aren’t supposed to feed off immortals,” she said quietly. Domitian had been giving her lessons on being immortal since her turn. That was the first point he’d stressed. No biting. Taking in immortal blood was bad. The influx of nanos meant the host’s blood was used up at an accelerated rate. Drinking Davies dry would have just increased Dressler’s need for blood, which was no doubt why he’d then drained Asherah dry.
“Yes, well, apparently that was one thing Dressler didn’t learn from all his experiments,” Domitian said dryly.
“I’m sorry,” Sarita said solemnly.
He glanced at her with surprise. “For what?”
“That your turning me gave Dressler exactly what he wanted,” she said simply. “The knowledge of how to turn himself.”
“Oh, no no, Sarita, no,” he said gently, taking her hands in his again. “He already knew how an immortal turned a mortal. Davies told him repeatedly in the hopes he would stop when he was cutting him in half. They have it on the tapes from the lab. Dressler knew exactly how an immortal turns a mortal before he ever put us together on the island.”
“What?” she asked with surprise, and when he nodded, she asked, “But then why did he need us? Why go to all that trouble of putting us on the island? And what was that escape nonsense all about?”
Domitian’s mouth twisted slightly. “Because he wanted to see what exactly happened before he submitted himself to it. It seems Dressler enjoys inflicting pain on others, but does not care to suffer it himself. He wanted to know if it was painful, and if so, just how painful.”
“You mean he had Asherah damned near kill me just to see a turn before he tried it?” she said with disbelief, and when he nodded, she asked, “Didn’t Davies tell him it was painful?”
“Si. But he thought he was just trying to talk him out of doing it. So he had to see for himself and needed a pair of life mates to accomplish that.”
“Us,” Sarita growled angrily. “How the hell did he find us?”
“Pablo Guerra, my private detective,” he admitted unhappily. “Dressler hired him, explained about our eyes, and said he would pay him a fee for every immortal he reported to him. Well, my eyes fit the description,” Domitian pointed out. “So Pablo told him he’d been working for a client for thirteen years who had eyes like that. A strange man, who just wanted regular reports on a girl in Canada. She was thirteen and living here in Venezuela when he hired me, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Dressler apparently asked the few immortals he had at that time why I would do that. They guessed, correctly, that perhaps you were my life mate and I was waiting for you to grow up to claim you. So he told the detective he would hire others to find the immortals—Pablo was just to send him copies of the reports I was paying for and put cameras in your apartment. And then he apparently waited for me to go to you, because surely I would do so soon now that you were grown-up.”
“Only you were being noble,” she said softly.
“Si,” he said.
Sarita nodded, and then shook her head. “But why did he keep trying to hire you?”
“I am not sure,” he admitted. “He only started eating in my restaurant about two years ago.”
“About when he hired Pablo,” she commented.
Domitian nodded. “He offered me a job the first night, but said it jokingly, and then repeated the offer every once in a while.” He shrugged. “Perhaps he planned to lure you to the island if I did not claim you quickly enough and wanted to be able to use hiring me as an excuse to get us together.”
“Which is what happened,” Sarita pointed out and then commented, “I’m surprised he didn’t wait to turn until he could get his hands on some drugs to ease the pain if he saw what I went through. From what everyone said afterward, it sounds like it was agony.” Wincing, she added, “What I remember was agony.”
“Ah . . .” Domitian made a face.
Sarita raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“Well, the camera in the bedroom was faulty. There was no sound, and the picture was a bit grainy, and according to Davies, Dressler thought I fed you my blood, held you for a minute and then we had wild sex, so it could not have been so bad.”
“What?” Sarita gasped with disbelief. “He thought we had sex while I was in the turn?”
“Well, I was on top of you and we were very active on the bed,” Domitian pointed out. He then added, “And apparently the camera angle was such that he never saw your grandmother enter the room. And then he only saw your upper torso rising up and down beyond the bed after you rolled us both to the floor. Davies said Dressler stopped watching when that business started, so . . .” He shrugged almost apologetically, apparently able to see how Dressler could misunderstand things so badly.
Sarita stared at him blankly and then closed her eyes and let her head drop into the palm of one hand.
There was silence for a minute and then Domitian asked, “Are you angry?”
She jerked her head up with surprise. “With Dressler? Of course, the—”
“No, with me,” Domitian interrupted.
“Why would I be angry at you?” she asked with confusion.
“Because it was my detective who caused all of this to happen to us. If I had not hired him—”
“No,” Sarita interrupted firmly. “You are not responsible for Pablo’s actions,” she assured him and then smiled wryly and said, “So I was worried you’d blame me for Dressler’s learning how to become immortal because you had to turn me to save my life, and meanwhile, you were worried that I’d be angry because your hiring Pablo led Dressler to realize we were life mates.”
“Si,” he said with a crooked smile.
“Hmm . . .” Sarita murmured, then took a deep breath and said, “I guess it must be love.”
Domitian stilled, his gaze locking on her face. “Do you think so?”
“I know so,” she admitted quietly and then offered him a crooked smile and said, “Actually, everyone else apparently knows so too.”
“Si.” He gave a solemn nod. “You are an intelligent woman, mi Corazon, but in this instance . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I was the last one to the table this time,” she muttered.
Domitian smiled, and then asked, “Does this mean that you will consent to be my wife as well as my life mate?”
Sarita swallowed, but then nodded. “Yes. But . . .” she added, raising her hand between them quickly to prevent him from kissing her when he bent toward her.
Domitian paused, uncertainty on his face. “But?”
After a hesitation, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest before admitting, “Grandmother doesn’t want to move to Canada.”