Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
D ominic had fallen asleep quickly. I couldn’t begin to do the same. On my side, with my back to him, I was ever aware of the man next to me whose body radiated heat that couldn’t even be tempered by the intentional distance he’d put between us. Frenetic energy permeated from him as if he couldn’t rest even while sleeping.
In an attempt to find a position that would promote sleep, I moved to my back, then stomach, and finally to the opposite side, facing his back and quickly becoming distracted by how the subtlest of movements caused his defined muscles to contract and relax. The urge to trace my finger over the ink markings that covered them increased with each passing moment.
Before I could act on it, he turned to face me, groggy and seemingly aware of my thoughts. His slow, lazy half smile made me momentarily forget that we were trapped in the underworld, his role in both our worlds, and the power and brutality that accompanied that position. There was a gentleness to him, along with the ease of him moving closer to me. Tracing his finger along my jawline, he whispered something and a halo of warm, soft yellow lights shone above.
Tentatively, his fingers trailed from my jawline, along my neck and down my chest to the swell of my breasts. He held my eyes until dropping them to my breasts and, undoubtedly, the hardened peaks of my nipples. My breath caught when his finger ran lazily over them, and I exhaled a sigh of disappointment when he moved away.
“I’d like to satisfy my curiosity,” he whispered in a low, rough voice.
“About what?”
His intense amber eyes held mine. “What’s hidden on you that can’t be seen with the naked eye,” he admitted. I turned the question over, taking out the sexy lazy way he made his request. This involved magic. He wanted to use a spell to reveal things on me that he believed Peter had hidden.
“When Peter used you as a conduit before, he made the markings visible,” he provided, his brow furrowed.
“You believe he changed his M.O.?” I asked as his hand slid under my shirt and curved around my waist, his thumb making languid circles over the exposed skin.
“No, I think I got to you before he could cloak it. I’ve been thinking about your last encounter with him. He had your hair and blood, enough for several spells. One possibly being a cloaking spell. May I?” he asked, inching his face closer to me. I inhaled his appealing scent. His lips brushing lightly against mine and the deep throaty question seemed like more than just a request for magic. The appeal came wrapped in a sensuous package. Fully aware I was being treated to the Prince of the Underworld’s seduction, I allowed it with the excuse that it was done in an effort to break the spell imprisoning us and nothing at all to do with my desire to feel Dominic’s expert touch as he searched for all the things he believed were hidden on me.
“Will it hurt?”
When Dominic thought I was a Dark Caster, he enclosed me in fire to force me to reveal myself and the spells that he then used to return the prisoners. It wasn’t painless but I powered through it because it needed to be done. I’d do the same now but wanted to prepare myself for the worst possible scenario.
“No, but you will feel it. I promise I’ll be gentle.” A wolfish smirk skated over his lips.
It took a moment after him invoking the spell before I felt it envelop me like a weighted blanket. Each moment became lighter as the spell dispersed over my skin, slithering over every inch, trying to pull out the secrets it was called to reveal. Dominic eased me onto my back before pulling the sheet off me. He took his time, inching to my feet where he examined them, migrating to my legs and then thighs. His hand glided along with his eyes. Dark mischief flickered when he lifted them to meet mine. He moistened his lips, his eyes asking the silent question.
“You have to search,” I encouraged. Dominic slipped off my panties. Exploring every part of me and rewarding me with his devious grin made me forget the main purpose of the search. I shuddered when he inched closer, nipping at my skin. A small moan escaped when his fingers slid over the sensitive parts between my legs, caressing and teasing the aroused area. I bit back the groan of disappointment when he ventured away. The touch promised more. I wanted more. A lot more. Dominic moved to my stomach, teasing me with warm soft kisses. He removed my cami, continuing to deliver the same attention to my nipples until they were painfully erect. Heat washed over me.
The Dark Prince who peddled in torture was subjecting me to a different form of it. I wanted to feel more than his tantalizing light touches, teasing, and erotic bites. Lacing my fingers through his hair, I pulled him to me in a kiss. His tongue explored mine, deep and hungry, and I felt his hardness between my legs as he settled between them. Wrapping my legs around him, I pulled him deeper against me. He taunted me with slight movements of his hips, pressing against me, smirking at my response.
I wanted the Dark Prince. Needed more of his lustful touches and ravenous kisses. The raw primal beast that peeked through made me want to unwrap the whole package.
A deep chuckle reverberated as he took my hands in his and held them over my head. His eyes twinkled with deviance as they held mine.
“Tsk, tsk, Luna. As much as I’m enjoying this, I also have work to do.” The low rumble of his chastisement was contradicted by his soft panting and the ravenous way his fiery gaze took in my body. It made compliance difficult.
I took several breaths. “Okay,” I huffed out between shallow pants. With a nod, he returned to his search, sensual mischief tugging at his lips.
In his typical sweeping grace of movement, he cradled my face. My breathing became sharp irregular bursts as his fingers sank into the crown of my hair. They ran along my ear, along the hairline, into the curve of my neck where he planted delicate kisses before moving me onto my side to continue his exploration. Delicate hands roamed over every inch of me, then slid between my legs to the delicate part between them, sensitive with arousal. The deep throaty way he said my name as he stroked me sent shivers up me. Moving my hips to meet each stroke, pleasure coursed over me, satisfying an ache I had denied too long. It built so much, I craved a release, expressed only in a low, wanton moan. Dominic’s rough low urges had me giving in to the pleasure, seeking more of his touch. Masterful fingers were coaxing me toward a climax. I claimed more of his erotic caresses until I exploded, shuddering over the edge with a sound between a moan and a sigh. Content, I sank deeper into the softness of the bed. Dominic’s body blanketed mine as he whispered in my ear.
“Is it safe to assume you’re enjoying my search as much as I am?” Dark satisfaction draped over his words.
Probably more, but I couldn’t offer him anything more than a feeble nod.
I was startled out of my relaxed pliability when Dominic’s delicate touch turned clinical, pressing firmly against my lower back. The warm breezes of his breath held as tension radiated from him.
“This wasn’t here yesterday,” he said.
“What, my birthmark?” The muted sienna-color marking that looked like a poorly drawn infinity circle was located on the small of my back. At about two inches long, it was just big enough for me to consider tattooing over it, but small enough to escape notice most of the time, depending on what I was wearing.
“It wasn’t there before, Luna.”
My first impulse was to ask him if he was sure, but his rigid scowl and speculative look stopped me. He dressed, slipping on a t-shirt, underwear, and sweatpants so quickly that I didn’t have time to sort through my thoughts. He headed out of the room while I lay there, my mouth slightly open, searching for the right question. The one that would yield the most informative response.
“Peter cloaked my birthmark?”
Dominic nodded. “You weren’t chosen at random. It was a calculated decision, and now I need to figure out why.”
I hauled myself out of the bed, searching for my discarded clothing.
“No. Go to sleep, Luna. You can’t help me with this. I just need to search a few things.” It might have been said in a suggestive tone, but it left no room for debate. He departed with a hurried “Goodnight.”
Sleep didn’t come easy. My mind was chaotic with thoughts and scenarios I couldn’t make sense of. The first time Peter walked into our store, the peculiar man didn’t seem to have any interest in me. Or in anyone. He was just the weird guy with an abundance of useless and useful knowledge who would undoubtedly give you an unrequested history lesson. But his views and words seemed to be skewed toward the loser, reminding anyone who’d bother to listen that history was written by the victors. Several times he’d said that the victors weren’t necessarily the heroes.
As I tossed and turned, I wondered, what was my role in this?