Read Online Retribution (Book 3 of The Dominion Series) by S. E. Lund - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S. E. Lund
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on a whim one weekend,” he says, laughing ruefully. “Just to see where he was going and I find he’s bought this cottage on the ocean. What’s he doing here, I wondered. I staked it out. Didn’t see anything but him and Vasily staying here, so I thought maybe he bought it for Vasily because he was hurt in the bombing. I come out here today to check on things because I was starting to miss Michel and who the fuck do I find but you, wandering the beach, security detail trailing you like the fucking queen. Jesus Christ .”
We climb up the dunes to the road and his car, which is parked down a tree-lined side road. He opens the door for me and I climb in, my mind resisting but my body betraying me, as usual. He fastens my seatbelt like the chivalrous knight he once was, except of course, that he’s taking me against my will.
I can’t even speak. I just sit there as he gets in the driver's seat and takes out his cell. He speaks into it briefly, relaying two words.
“I’m coming.”
"My parents…" I say.
"I'll call them later."
We drive off and I watch out the car window as the landscape passes us by on the road back to Boston.
We drive to a suburb and to a stately mansion in a grove of trees. The house is old, with huge windows looking out over a large green space of manicured lawns and shrubs, a fountain in the center. There’s heavy security and a guard at a gate admits us, nodding as Julien rolls down his window. We round the circular driveway to the huge double doors where another guard stands.
“I thought you lived at the monastery.”
“I have several properties.”
The guard opens my door and Julien comes around and takes my hand. I can’t resist him, because the endorphins he’s released in me are still too strong. We enter the house, and I stand in the huge foyer with a cathedral ceiling and a large winding staircase up to a second floor. The floors are marble, as are the walls, and the furnishings ornate and antique. It looks like it's been transported from some grand home in eighteenth-century Florence or Paris.
“This doesn’t seem at all like you,” I say. “Not from what I read in my journal.”
“You don’t know me," he says, his brow furrowed.
He speaks with someone who looks like a servant or butler and then he comes to me, taking my hand. He pulls me up the staircase to the second floor and into a huge reception room, past an ornate grand piano and several instruments – a cello, violin, and bass. We walk through the reception room, through a hallway and then into a bedroom with a magnificent bed all draped in sheer white curtains. He closes the door and his wings unfurl as he leans against it, his arms slipping around my waist, pulling me against his body.
“Don’t,” I say in protest but my heart is racing just from his touch and his intensity.
He shakes his head.
“I’m not arguing with you anymore,” he says and his voice is breathless. “I’m listening to your body from now on, not your words or your mind. You want only the truth? I'll tell you the whole truth. All of it. But I want only the truth from you, Eve. You lie all the time, to yourself, to me. Your body doesn’t lie. It’s the only truth that matters now.”
He kisses me, his mouth soft on my lips, holding them there as he threads his fingers in my hair.
“Please,” I say again when he pulls back. I'm barely able to speak. “Don’t.” But my body has already warmed from his touch.
“Shh,” he says, pressing a finger against my lips. “No more lies between us, Eve.”
He kisses me again, this time his kiss is more intense. Despite my mind telling me this shouldn’t happen, my body responds to him when his tongue touches mine. He makes a sound deep in his throat.
My heart responds to the blatant desire in his face, to the need in his eyes, a thrill of lust shocking through my body. As we kiss, he opens himself to me and I experience everything from our shared past through him, how he
We climb up the dunes to the road and his car, which is parked down a tree-lined side road. He opens the door for me and I climb in, my mind resisting but my body betraying me, as usual. He fastens my seatbelt like the chivalrous knight he once was, except of course, that he’s taking me against my will.
I can’t even speak. I just sit there as he gets in the driver's seat and takes out his cell. He speaks into it briefly, relaying two words.
“I’m coming.”
"My parents…" I say.
"I'll call them later."
We drive off and I watch out the car window as the landscape passes us by on the road back to Boston.
We drive to a suburb and to a stately mansion in a grove of trees. The house is old, with huge windows looking out over a large green space of manicured lawns and shrubs, a fountain in the center. There’s heavy security and a guard at a gate admits us, nodding as Julien rolls down his window. We round the circular driveway to the huge double doors where another guard stands.
“I thought you lived at the monastery.”
“I have several properties.”
The guard opens my door and Julien comes around and takes my hand. I can’t resist him, because the endorphins he’s released in me are still too strong. We enter the house, and I stand in the huge foyer with a cathedral ceiling and a large winding staircase up to a second floor. The floors are marble, as are the walls, and the furnishings ornate and antique. It looks like it's been transported from some grand home in eighteenth-century Florence or Paris.
“This doesn’t seem at all like you,” I say. “Not from what I read in my journal.”
“You don’t know me," he says, his brow furrowed.
He speaks with someone who looks like a servant or butler and then he comes to me, taking my hand. He pulls me up the staircase to the second floor and into a huge reception room, past an ornate grand piano and several instruments – a cello, violin, and bass. We walk through the reception room, through a hallway and then into a bedroom with a magnificent bed all draped in sheer white curtains. He closes the door and his wings unfurl as he leans against it, his arms slipping around my waist, pulling me against his body.
“Don’t,” I say in protest but my heart is racing just from his touch and his intensity.
He shakes his head.
“I’m not arguing with you anymore,” he says and his voice is breathless. “I’m listening to your body from now on, not your words or your mind. You want only the truth? I'll tell you the whole truth. All of it. But I want only the truth from you, Eve. You lie all the time, to yourself, to me. Your body doesn’t lie. It’s the only truth that matters now.”
He kisses me, his mouth soft on my lips, holding them there as he threads his fingers in my hair.
“Please,” I say again when he pulls back. I'm barely able to speak. “Don’t.” But my body has already warmed from his touch.
“Shh,” he says, pressing a finger against my lips. “No more lies between us, Eve.”
He kisses me again, this time his kiss is more intense. Despite my mind telling me this shouldn’t happen, my body responds to him when his tongue touches mine. He makes a sound deep in his throat.
My heart responds to the blatant desire in his face, to the need in his eyes, a thrill of lust shocking through my body. As we kiss, he opens himself to me and I experience everything from our shared past through him, how he
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