Blood Ties by Lana Sky

Chapter Twenty

“Since when do you let your women call the shots?” Domino remarks nastily, and I realize why—he knows the conclusion I’ve come to, and exactly who I’ll pick. Hell, haven’t I been taunting him with that very reality all this time? I’d gladly fuck any man who isn’t him and beg for the pleasure.

“Now, now,” Jaguar scolds. “There is a first time for everything. After all, it’s rude to discuss business so openly in front of the merchandise. Let’s let Ada-Maria choose for herself.” He turns his gaze on me, softening his expression in a way that reminds me of a parent asking a naughty child which choice of punishment she’d prefer. A beating or a whipping?

It was a choice I was presented with often in my early life—and one I quickly learned to master. A beating left bruises and marks that could ache all over my body. A whipping, at least, would be regulated to my back, and the results of which would be far easier to hide.

“Would you like to come with me tonight, and meet your new friends at the Guarida three days early, or stay here with dear old Dom?”

Once I hear it stated out loud and so bluntly, I don’t hesitate. “Domino.”

The silence that falls is beyond unsettling. Like a bomb has gone off, ending one battle in a long-fought war decidedly. The losing side conceals his anger behind a cold grin, but even the victor looks shaken. Far from triumphant, Domino is left frowning, his confusion so blatant that I start to fear it can’t be for show.

I chose wrong.

“Fine.” Jaguar rises to his feet and snatches a cracker covered in some kind of sauce from the tray. “She’s made her choice, and I am a man of my word after all. Let’s shake on it.” He pops the cracker into his mouth and extends his hand, but when Domino starts to reach for it, he shakes his head and nods to me. “This bargain was between Ada-Maria and me,” he says. “I can swallow my pride and let bygones be bygones.”

Warily, I place my palm in his, and his fingers latch onto my wrist as his eyes stare dead into mine.

“It’s nice to see which sides we’re all on.”

He moves his hand as if he means to initiate a handshake, but the movement is too sharp. Lateral, not up and down.

I hear an unnatural crack first, and I start to incline my head for the source.

Then I feel it—pain! White-hot, it lances up my arm, and I’m screaming, doubling over with the force of it. My vision goes white. Everything sparkles, like some horrible, twisted high where my brain forgot to interpret the pleasure I should be feeling.

God, it hurts. Everything hurts.

And then, all at once, sensation returns to my fingertips. They’re on fire, burning so intently I can’t move them. They just flop onto the table as Jaguar releases me.

“Three days,” he shouts, but the blood rushing through my ears distorts his voice, muting the ringing baritone as if I’m hearing him from underwater.

And someone else, who sounds louder, more insistent.

“Hold it to your chest,” he commands. “Breathe in through your mouth. Breathe, Ada. I know it fucking hurts! Listen to me—”

“My wrist… My wrist…” It’s all I can say over and over on a broken loop. I’m on the floor, sitting amid a pile of broken glass, clutching my right hand to my chest.

Jaguar broke my wrist.

* * *

Somehow I windup in a different room, with a familiar marble floor pressed against my cheek and my right arm extended in the air, doused beneath a rush of cool liquid.

My brain can only process what happens beyond the agony in bits and pieces. One, someone is standing over me, holding my arm aloft, and at a slight angle so that it’s extended over the tub, with my wrist beneath the faucet. My fingers hang limply, like a limb on a broken doll.

“That sick motherfucker.” The voice is Domino’s, and he repeats that assessment over and over, uttered with a different inflection each time.

That sick motherfucker,hissed with disgust.

That sick motherfucker…This time with an unsteady note in his voice I’m not used to hearing. Fear?

“When I get my hands on that sick motherfucker, I’ll kill him.” He means every word, voicing them with a clarity I haven’t heard from him since I woke up on the floor of this damn mansion.

Gone is the mocking hate, and the twisted innuendo.

He wants to kill Jaguar with every fiber of his being. Very, very badly.

“Why?” I croak, though I’m not sure what exactly I’m referring to.

Why is he crouched beside me, holding my broken wrist beneath running cold water with a care that shocks what little sliver of my brain is still fully functioning?

Why would he sell me to a man like Jaguar in the first place?

Why does he hate me so much?

Why? Why?

“Ines!” His raised voice echoes off the walls, answered within a heartbeat.

“I’m here, sir.”

“I think the bastard broke her whole damn arm. She needs something strong enough to get her through the night if we want to make it out of the valley in time.”

The urgency he speaks with leaves me dazed. The valley?

“There is enough for a decent dose,” Ines replies quietly. “But, you should know that this is the last of your supply.”

“Are you sure?” The tension in Domino’s voice calls to some part of me that stirs in response. He’s worried. “Fuck. I was planning to get some more today, but that bastard came too early.”

“Apart from whatever you have on you, this is it,” Ines insists. “Do you really want to use it now? It could be hard to find more once you leave.”

“Shit…” Domino clenches his jaw, and from this angle, he looks conflicted and so beautiful I hate him for it.

“Sir, you could go into withdrawal—”

“Give it to her,” he snaps with a nod.

“Alright.”

I sense someone approach me from the left, but when I try to turn to see who, Domino tugs on my arm, forcing me to lay on my side or risk aggravating my wrist. Only this position keeps the pain at bay enough for me to think.

And though I can’t see Ines grab my left arm and wrench up the sleeve of my sweater, I certainly feel the needle she jabs into the muscle a second later.

I scream in shock, but the sting has already eased, and I recognize the throbbing ache working its way down my deltoid. She drugged me.

“Did you make the arrangements like we planned?” Domino asks next.

“Yes, sir,” Ines replies, sounding more distant, as if she’s speaking from the doorway. “But…”

“You’ve known me long enough not to play coy,” Domino says in the closest tone to scolding I’ve heard him use with her. “Spit it out. What aren’t you saying?”

“You should go tonight. He took the other one with him, but I know Julian. He’ll be back. You should go now—”

“I haven’t secured your passport yet,” Domino says over her. “Mateo is fucking me on the timeline—”

“Don’t worry about me.” Ines’ voice rings out with a strength I’d never expect. Jaguar alluded that she practically raised him, but that she chose Domino. What does that mean? “You go now. You won’t get another chance. I know you prefer to stick to your plans, but Julian is like his father. They are unpredictable. That is what makes them so dangerous.”

“You know what he’ll do to you if he realizes beforehand,” Domino says. He releases my arm, setting it beside me. Then he shuts the water off and pivots to face Ines. “I won’t have your death on my conscience.”

“So damn noble,” Ines says disapprovingly. “That’s why you were always at a disadvantage with him. You hesitate where he wouldn’t. I know the risk after three decades of working with the Domingas family. Better than you, I think.”

“I don’t know how I can repay you—”

“Go,” Ines says, but it sounds as though she’s commanding him for once. “Find your answers. And I suggest you think long and hard about what it is you do value. Because Julian will take pleasure in destroying it before you can even admit to yourself that you wanted it in the first place.” Her tone softens, returning to her dutiful murmur. “The arrangements are made. I’ll have Miguel bring the car around.”

“Luckily, Ada-Maria already made one part easier,” Domino says, but his tone conveys more irritation than admiration.

Without warning, he lifts me into his arms, carrying me into the hall so swiftly I can’t keep up. The next thing I’m aware of is that we’re passing through the circular foyer. Then another door I’ve seldom traveled through.

Suddenly, we’re in the dark night air, bathed in the sweltering heat. I strain to pay attention, noting the front of the house illuminated by windows flooded with golden light. The paved walkway. A car with its headlights blaring like the red eyes of a beast, eager to swallow me whole.

The drug is kicking in so damn quickly. Ines must have given me one hell of a dose. It’s like I blink, and I’m seated, leaning against a pane of glass as the world rushes before me, dark and endless.

Domino sits beside me, bathed in the faint bluish glow of a dashboard, his hands on the steering wheel.

“Where?” I ask with the last amount of strength I have left.

His answer comes as my vision fades to black.

“I’m taking you back to Terra Rodea.”

~ The story continues in Blood Bound ~