Blood Ties by Lana Sky

Chapter Eleven

“Dinner will be served on the terrace soon, Miss,” Ines calls from the doorway, jarring me awake.

I peel my eyes open with a groan, feeling more exhausted than I did when I finally rested my head on these pillows. I’m in my pretty white room, but this time I remember how I got here—I practically crawled, merely to escape Domino and his blood-stained bathroom.

This room isn’t a much better prison, but at least he isn’t here. Neither is Alexi, though I’m sure both are still on the property somewhere. Stupidly, I hope that Domino regulated her to her own virtual jail cell on the other end of the estate.

But no.

I can hear her, giggling uncontrollably somewhere beyond this room. Her voice alone isn’t what sets every nerve in my body on edge—it’s the deep, masculine tone that accompanies it.

Jealously is the last emotion I should feel at a time like this. If anything, I should be relieved that someone has his attention other than me.

Until I hear him speak. “You know I don’t play fair,” he says, sounding so prideful of that fact, his voice devoid of any of the rage he displayed earlier this morning.

Because it was all an act, of course, him claiming that he needed me to play along with his game. He was lying then, I realize with a sense of dread that guts me.

I was the idiot who fell for it. All along, he’s been scheming with Alexi, manipulating me for their own gain. They’re in this together.

“Just this once,” Alexi taunts in that sexy little purr. “Make an exception for me.”

I don’t strain to listen to Domino’s reply, if he answers her at all. Instead, I climb to my feet, groaning as pain shoots through my skull. Disoriented, I sway, forced to grab the edge of the mattress for balance, and I don’t know how much time passes before I can stand without shaking.

Enough time, it seems, for Alexi to get her way, because a series of giggles taunts me next, sounding fainter, from the direction of the terrace.

Ignoring them, I stagger into the closet and grab the first item I can reach, pulling it on without inspecting it in full. Then I return to the mirror and brace myself for what I might find.

Nothing I imagined comes even close to the specter awaiting me from the glass’ surface.

She’s so pale, her eyes bloodshot, her arms and legs speckled with bruises. My nose is unmarked, at least, though sensitive to the touch.

If Domino wanted to pretend that I was here willingly, he’d have to have a damn good explanation for why I’d submit myself to this kind of abuse. What was that he mocked me with?

You like it rough…

For a second, I reconsider everything. Forget trusting him—I should run. Now. I even start toward the hall with every intention of racing for the front door, his ruse be damned.

But then I hear them, both laughing as though they don’t have a care in the world. Domino’s voice rings out, unabashedly booming in a cadence that sounds so damn…genuine.

Curiosity alone is what spurs me to turn around and creep past the circular foyer and out onto the terrace.

It’s a blindingly bright day, with a beautiful blue sky above and a gentle warmth emanating from a blazing sun. Gone are the storm clouds from earlier. It’s a perfect hour to lounge around the fire pit on the terrace’s mid-level. Domino claims one of the seats facing me, his head inclined against the back of it.

Alexi sits across from him, practically spilling out of her own chair to face him, her laughter easily reaching across the terrace.

“My round,” she taunts. “Think you can beat me at least once?”

Domino flashes a grin that has me stopping short. It’s fleeting, but bright enough to transform his entire face into that of a stranger’s, relaxing his afternoon away.

Until he sees me.

He sits forward, palming his knees with both hands, his eyes cutting to slits. It’s as if he has some internal switch designed to instantly wipe all emotion from his face. Alexi says something to him though I can’t make out exactly what it is.

His frown deepens, his jaw clenching as if he remembered his own rules. We’re supposed to be here under slightly different roles. He’s my rescuer, and I’m his very grateful victim.

It strikes me now how I could send his ruse toppling with very little effort on my part. I could scream. Demand he let me go. Cause a scene.

And he’s afraid I’ll do just that. I can see the lethality in how he tracks every step I take once I remember how to move again. He’s hunting me, desperate for any excuse to lunge and drag me back into that room.

A strange feeling unfurls in my chest, and I don’t know how to identify it at first. Not until I finally reach the lower level and draw even with the playful couple.

This feeling? It’s power.

“Look who decided to join us,” Alexi says, though I notice that most of the playfulness is gone from her voice, leaving it hollow. I sense her eyes trace me up and down, not that I pay her any notice.

My sole focus is Domino. He sizes me up with a cautious glance, trying to decipher just what I’ll do next. Do I remember our flimsy excuse for a truce?

I do. And that’s the frustrating part. As much as I hate him, I can’t deny one awful truth—I need him. For now. At least until I can find enough leverage to escape him once and for all.

So, I make myself smile and sway my hips so that I’m sauntering toward him, just as playful as he appeared to be seconds ago.

The way he stiffens gives me immense satisfaction—but it’s fleeting. Because playing my role in this instance means I have to touch him, and this moment is so different from the hundreds of other times I’ve toyed with men I wasn’t attracted to.

He’s wearing white today, a shirt buttoned as he usually wears it while being here at least—the top two undone. A loose pair of white slacks gives him a casual air that his rigid jawline contradicts. As serious as he looks now, no one could ever mistake this man for anything but a jailer on red alert.

Because of me. I rouse this dark nature in him. I saw it for myself—he wasn’t like this with Alexi. Does that bother me?

I can’t tell as I push down my revulsion and palm his chest, urging him back into the more relaxed posture he held before.

To my shock, he relents to the pressure, spreading his legs as if sensing my intentions before I even lower myself onto his right knee. His body is stone beneath me—he’s wary. I think if it weren’t for our audience, he’d shove me to the floor—and make it hurt.

So I draw out the motion, settling back against his chest while I seethe inside. Turning to him, I see his eyes cut to mine and flinch. I want nothing more than to run away. Hide.

But this is what he wanted, isn’t it? For me to play pretend.

Well, luckily for him, I’ve perfected how to do just that. He accused me of being a whore and faking it, but he has no idea how good I can be. How real it can feel to have someone pretend to adore you.

Only to rip it away the second they’ve gotten what they wanted from you.

It’s a feeling reminiscent of what Pia made me feel all those years ago. Like I truly had an ally in this world, someone I could rely on outside of my father’s control.

When all the while, she was laughing behind my back.

I’m not laughing now. Forcing my lips into an even wider grin, I place my hand against Domino’s cheek, urging him to face me.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, and damn. I’m impressed with myself. I sound giddy enough to put Alexi’s chirping to shame, and Domino’s gaze becomes unreadable in response.

“We were just chatting about old times,” Alexi pipes up, and I recognize the note in her voice. That of a bitch who already believes she has her claws sunken into her chosen prey.

The only problem for both of us is that Domino is no one’s plaything.

“We’ll catch up later,” he says to Alexi without taking his eyes off me. I shudder inwardly at the challenge lurking within those haunting green irises—along with a clear warning. “Ada-Maria missed lunch. Could you inform Ines that she can bring her meal out here? I’ll make sure she eats every bite.”

“Okay.”

Alexi doesn’t sound too enthusiastic, but the second she disappears from view, I attempt to shift my weight from his lap entirely.

His hand latches onto my knee before I can, effectively riveting me in place.

“You seem cheerful this afternoon,” he remarks in a voice like sin. It’s a low, husky baritone that anyone who happened to overhear might mistake for warm, considering my position on his lap.

But as his nails graze my flesh in a teasing swipe, I know exactly what he intends—to have me shivering, choking down a hard swallow.

“I hope you slept well, Ada.”

“I-I did,” I counter, failing to keep my voice level. It shakes, and I know my fear leeches into my carefully constructed mask. So much for fighting him on an even playing field. I can barely keep my composure for longer than a few seconds at a time.

I keep equating his hand on my thigh to the same grip he had around my neck, plunging me beneath the water. If I hadn’t hurt myself, would he have kept going?

I can’t tell just by looking at him.

He’s smug again, the corner of his mouth lifted in a subtle smirk.

I hate him. And that hate makes me petty enough to keep playing with fire.

“I thought of you,” I tell him, lowering my mouth near his ear despite the tension his nearness inspires. I even manage to laugh, just once. “My hero. And I slept like a baby.”

“Good,” he growls in return.

I can’t see his expression fully from this angle. All I have to go on is his hand, stroking higher to bridge the gap between my legs. Too high. He’s boldly reaching beneath the hemline of my dress, and I can’t stop him.

“It couldn’t have been a very good dream,” he remarks with faux concern. “You’re not dripping wet like a cat in heat.”

I clamp my thighs together, heedless of his hand between them. He’s won. I try to wiggle from his lap again, and he shrugs as if to nonverbally dare me to.

But then I make the mistake of looking over into his eyes. Those smug, confident, incredible fucking eyes.

They make me reckless, and I recall the few times I managed to make those very eyes widen.

With provocation.

“If you’re my hero, as they say, Domino… Shouldn’t I always be dripping wet for you? Ready and willing. My hero.”

He grunts, conveying a mixture of irritation and grudging amusement.

“My Ada.” He works his other hand into my hair, tugging ruthlessly hard as he goes. “Such a good, happy girl this afternoon. I think I should come up with a reward for you being so cheerful.”

My grin falls flat before I can even think to salvage it. Panic sends every coherent thought scrambling.

I want to run.

You can’t give in,a part of me warns, even as my muscles twitch with every intention of me lurching to my feet. You do that now, and he wins.

And in spite of everything he’s done, I can’t let him dominate every interaction. Not again. Therefore, risks must be taken. My father called it “the fucking kamikaze” method, where a man puts all of his effort into one harebrained scheme with the hopes that even if it backfires, it takes out at least some of his enemies.

That method got him to the top of Terra Rodea’s political scene.

But he didn’t have to navigate a man like Domino Valenciaga in this manner. I’m at a loss of how to manipulate him. How to keep him on edge. How to keep up.

All I can do is meet his dare and not flinch. Instead, I lean in, grazing my lips against his chiseled jawline, ignoring the pain lancing through my nose as it’s nudged by his.

“A grateful girl should want any reward her hero can give her,” I say, letting my voice dip down to a hum that isn’t quite as shameless as Alexi’s.

I can feel a rumble through his chest as he exhales, even more suspicious than before.

“But when do I get what I really want?” I ask, inclining my head to face him directly.

His wicked smile steals my breath away as he runs his fingers through my hair. “After four days of being a good girl, you’ll get what you deserve,” he says softly. “In fact, here’s your next chance to prove just how good you can be.”

I stiffen with alarm as his gaze drifts to something behind me. When I turn, though, I only find Ines approaching from the direction of the house, a silver tray in hand.

She places her bounty on a low table set in the middle of the couches and respectfully nods.

“Thank you,” Domino says, dismissing her. Once we’re alone again, he palms my waist with both hands, settling me more firmly on his lap. I’m straddling him now. My knees are the only parts of me that have any contact with the couch at all, barely touching down on either side of him.

“Now it’s time for you to continue being such a good girl.” His voice contains a chilling hint of malice despite his blank expression. Leaning forward, he jostles me against him, and I realize that he picked an item of food from the platter. A piece of strawberry that he cradles between two fingers. “Eat.”

My stomach churns. I want more than anything to deny him. On second thought, I want to preserve my pride more. The need for control and the desire for victory go to war within me. It only takes a second for one to win out.

I open my lips and smother any hesitation, allowing him to place the sliver of berry on my tongue. I think I see surprise cross his face for a split-second before his eyes narrow to convey another sentiment entirely. Challenge accepted.

He grabs another morsel of fruit and dangles it just beyond the reach of my mouth. I have to lean forward to take it, biting into the ripe berry dangerously close to his fingertips. At the last second, something makes me swipe my tongue along the pad of one, licking away any remaining juice.

His sly grin falls flat, his chest rumbling again.

The sound does something to me, working with the warm air and the hot sun to make my breathing quicken and my chest tighten. I’m painfully aware of how large he is, and how dangerously close I’m seated near the front of his slacks. The loose fabric conceals any telltale bulge or sign of arousal. I’d have to touch him to be sure.

“You are in a good mood, today,” Domino remarks, though he doesn’t sound as smug about that as he did just minutes ago. “I wonder just what my Ada-Maria is thinking to feel so damn happy.”

I take my time swallowing down my berry. Then I lick my lips deliberately slow, and I don’t miss the way his eyes dart down to track the motion.

“I’m thinking of all the ways I can show my hero how grateful I am for what he’s done to me.”

I’ve gone too far, failing to disguise the hate in my voice behind fake charm. Rather than dwell over the fact, I relish the wary way he eyes me while letting one of his hands slide from my hip.

“Such a bold girl today, as well.” And yet, for the time being anyway, he seems content to grab another offering from the tray and shove it against my mouth.

I eat, and I eat, and I eat, ignoring any discomfort or anxiety building at the back of my mind. This is war, and as such, I have to fight just as dirty as he seems willing to.

“You seem happy today as well,” I remark after taking a blueberry from his hand. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your fun and games.” I soften my voice, posing my lips in a playful pout.

He scoffs. “Simpering isn’t a good look on you, Ada,” he scolds. “I like you better when you run that smart fucking mouth.”

Challenge accepted.

“How do I know I’m not the game being played?” I demand, raising an eyebrow of my own. Our expressions must mirror each other’s now, equally guarded and mistrustful. “You seem to be having so much fun with Alexi. How do I know you’re not setting me up?”

“You don’t,” he replies, snatching a piece of what looks like cheese from the tray next. “Though, believe me, it wouldn’t take nearly half as much effort as you seem to think. Eat.”

I open my mouth, still mulling over his words. He wouldn’t waste the effort to play me, but he seemed unwilling to outright deny that his interactions with Alexi were part of a mind game.

“Don’t tell me that you’re taking advantage of her, Domino,” I murmur after chewing.

It would serve the bitch right. And yet…

I can’t be jealous, so that can’t possibly be the reasoning behind the pang I feel in my chest. Even during his entire tenure as my father’s trusted bodyguard, he never tried so hard with me. He never played “games,” or reminisced about the past or lounged so visibly relaxed in my presence. Most notable of all, I never once heard him laugh.

Never like that.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Ada-Maria,” Domino counters. The amount of genuine disgust in his voice warns that he would disapprove of that scenario.

Rather than take the bait, I shrug and dutifully sample the food he’s holding before me. “Why would I be? You cared for me enough to bring me here, and protect me from the big bad men who tried to kill me. I’m the fool who would willingly stay here, gladly accepting whatever lies you told me to explain my parents’ supposed deaths and everything else going on. Damn. I know you think so little of me, but I must be known for being quite the dumb bimbo for even your accomplices to buy that.”

His eyes flash in a subtle warning. “I don’t think you should go around pontificating on what those big, bad men might want to do to you, Ada. You’ll give yourself nightmares. I suggest you continue to be so damn accommodating and keep your mouth shut.”

“Unless I have a cock stuffed in it, right?” I can’t resist the taunt, and for whatever reason, it seems to rile him beautifully.

His nostrils flare, and both of his hands return to my hips, gripping tightly to readjust my weight against him.

“Right,” he murmurs, his eyes staring dead into my own. “Maybe we should test that theory; what with you being so damn agreeable all of a sudden?”

I swallow hard at the threat, fighting to keep my breathing steady. I can feel his muscle flexing beneath me, his thighs drifting further apart as if to accommodate a growing body part he can’t ignore. He’s gritting his teeth, a muscle in his jaw lurching.

As foolish as it is to admit, even to myself, I’m not sure what could be getting him hard in this scenario. Our banter? Or the mention of Alexi?

“I would gladly let you utilize my mouth however you see fit,” I say, wrenching my gaze down to his mouth, a safer territory than his eyes. Or so I think until he seizes the flesh of his lower lip between his teeth and a growl rumbles through his chest. “If only you didn’t have another willing mouth at the ready close by. I’m sure you already got up to plenty of fun and games while I was out. Why let me ruin your fun?”

I’m done with this game. I brace my hand against his chest to pull back and stand. He tightens his grip, easily keeping me locked in place.

“I haven’t had fun since the last time your pretty little lips were occupied with me,” he warns, and I suck in a breath, suddenly dizzy. The heat in his voice is far too dangerous. As if he means every word. “You would know if you were interrupting anything I didn’t intend for you to see.”

I flinch. It’s a blatant hint that he’s been toying with me all this time, with or without Alexi’s consent. I don’t know what to make of that. Then it strikes me that’s exactly what he wants—to confuse me of his motives and leave me constantly second-guessing my own instincts.

I only let myself consider my following actions for a split second. Then I lean forward, deliberately rocking my hips into his. As much as I hate him…

He’s all rigid muscle, and I gasp when I feel the firmness of his thighs against my ass. He stiffens, digging his fingers into my waist, only his hands slip, and he’s palming my ass instead. I smother any urge to pull away, letting his hands linger, fingers spread apart over both cheeks.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been faking your fun all this time, Domino,” I taunt.

He laughs. Then he drives his nails into my flesh—harshly—and I can’t smother a cry.

“As it turns out, I am very good at faking, Ada,” he tells me, nudging my earlobe with his mouth. Then something warmer brushes the lobe with a teasing swipe. His tongue?

I can’t let myself get distracted. I just focus on his words and realize what they imply. He’s still playing with my head, trying to keep me off balance.

“So am I,” I say, palming his cheek so that he’s forced to face me again. He’s frowning, and a prickle of alarm nips at my spine, warning me to tread carefully. Even if he seems to want information from me—badly enough to agree to a hostile cease-fire—I know better than to push him too far.

So I consider my next course of action the equivalent of a friendly tap.

“I am very good at faking, remember?”

“I remember.” His eyes glint with a dangerous gleam. “I’ve personally watched you ‘fake it’ many, many, many times.”

I cringe at the insinuation—that his claims to have spied on me were all true. And yet, there is one way to use this to my advantage.

“So then you know that even if you do sell me, I’ll have no problem faking it then. I’ll fake it for whoever can give me a lifeline, no matter how flimsy, and you can lounge around this big, empty house knowing that I’ll be comparing them all to you.”

It’s a boast that riles him like no other. He jolts forward, nearly knocking me backward, if his hands didn’t happen to clench against my ass, snatching me to him. Our pelvises collide, my breasts pressed against his collar as though it’s a platter.

And I’m the only meal he has any interest in devouring.