Page 23 of The Ecstasy of Sin
Dominic Kael is otherworldly. He’s like some omniscient, dark god out of a fantasy novel.
Okay, that’s it. I read too much romance. I’m picking up some historical non-fiction from the library next. Or maybe some true crime. Or maybe…
My head feels like it’s stuffed full of thick, soft, billowy clouds. I notice then that my pain is completely gone, and so is the intense nausea. I’ve been so caught up in this stranger’s magnetic orbit that I didn’t realize how much better I’m feeling. That migraine cocktail I was given is working fast.
“I feel better,” I tell Dominic, a smile tugging at my mouth. “Thanks, stranger.”
He lifts his freshly stitched brow in response, a subtle smile curving his lips.
I can’t help but lean in toward him, captivated by the dark look in his eyes.
It’s as though he recognizes the way I’m drawn to him, because the smile on his face shifts, twisting into something a little more unsettling.
It feels like a warning, but thanks to the painkillers, I don’t really care all that much.
“Yep. Just like a hero out of a dark romance book,” I tell him with a little nod, laughing softly at my own stupid joke. If I wasn’t medicated and exhausted beyond belief, I’m sure I’d be a lot less talkative right now.
He lifts his hand, his thumb brushing along my lower lip. The way he touches me is sensual, almost reverent, and it gives me butterflies for the first time in... I don’t even know how long.
Why is he touching me like I matter to him? Why is he looking at me like he sees me, and not just through me like everyone else does?
“I’m not a hero, little lamb,” he utters quietly, still stroking my lip.
I sigh, a quiet and breathy sound, and his hand lowers to wrap around my throat. His thumb strokes my pulse, which races beneath it. Fear unfurls within me, and my eyes widen as I stare up at him.
His fingers tighten, and my breath catches. His gaze narrows at the sound, something akin to thrill flickering in his expression.
Finally, like a red flag raised on a battlefield, panic breaks through the haze.
Run, you idiot.
The words echo in my head, but when I try to shift away from him, he follows the movement. He slides his big body in between my thighs, trapping me on the table. The heat of him overwhelms me, and I curse the animal urge to lean into him and soak it all up.
“Did nobody teach you that running from a predator only triggers the hunt?” His voice is deep and gravelly, like my fear is as intoxicating to him as his scent is to me. The way he looks at me—like a cat gazing at a mouse—makes me realize the rising panic is his new toy to play with.
“Please,” I plead, looking up at him as he towers over me like he enjoys having me trapped here with him. “I have nothing of value, and nothing to offer you.”
“We’ll see.”
Those words feel like a threat, and as he gives my throat another small squeeze, my heart begins thundering in my chest. He leans in, and I’m half-way to hyperventilating.
The door behind us opens with a creak, and the doctor steps in again. If he sees the fear in my eyes, or notices how inappropriately close Dominic is standing to me, he doesn’t acknowledge it. In fact, there is trepidation in his face too.
Whatever he knows about Dominic, it’s written all over his face in a code I can’t fully decipher. It makes me think my instincts about him are accurate.
It’s only when he asks how I’m feeling that Dominic finally releases his hold on me, though he pulls away like he’s hesitant to do so. He turns away from me, pulling out his phone and sending what seems like a long text message.
“How are you feeling now?” The doctor asks, eyeing Dominic wearily.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to focus on the doctor while Stranger Danger over there busies himself with his phone. “Better. The pain and nausea are gone.”
“Excellent,” he says, adjusting the flow of the IV beside me. “As soon as the bag is empty, you can head home and get some rest.”
Before I can thank the doctor, Dominic is pulling open the door of the room and stepping out without looking back at us. “See you soon, little lamb.”
I watch the enigmatic stranger disappear through the door, and worry coils low along my spine—serpentine and insidious. The feeling brands itself into me, a warning I can’t shake.
The doctor looks at me like he wants to say something, the conflict clear on his face, but he seems to decide against it. Instead, he shakes his head and leaves the room through the other door.
