Shades of dominatioe rom.., p.9
Shades of Domination: Fifty by Fifty #2: A Billionaire Romance Boxed Set, page 9
Savannah flavored her oatmeal with fresh fruits, nuts, and spices in the hopes of spurring her appetite. The chefs here were spectacular, trained in the finest restaurants in the world. It would be a shame not to relish each meal while she was here before she returned to meals of peanut butter and jelly.
“What’s up with you this morning?” Mark Waters asked, a violinist who had played in the performance the night before.
“Nothing. Just have an idea consuming me. I have to get it out on paper before I forget.”
“I can understand that,” Mark said.
“You played wonderfully last night,” she told him as she emptied the barely touched oatmeal from the bowl.
“Good luck with whatever you’re working on,” Regina said as Savannah filled up her coffee mug. If anyone could relate, it was Regina. She was a painter who often holed herself up in a painting studio for days at a time, barely eating or sleeping when hit by overpowering inspiration.
Savannah didn’t have an appetite, but she’d drink piping hot coffee all day long if she had the choice. Part of what kept grad students going and going and going.
The idea of being consumed by art was one that wasn’t just accepted here, it was expected. They were here first to work on their art. Socializing was secondary—although many great ideas came out during meals or evenings in the salon during discussions with fellow artists. However, first and foremost, they were at the art colony to focus on their passion.
Mark added, “Did you hear about what happened to the dockworker on the island?”
“No,” Savannah said, taking the first glorious sip of her coffee.
“His body was found in the woods,” Mark added.
She put her coffee cup down as he dropped the bomb. “What happened?”
Mark replied, “They think it was some kind of accident.”
“What kind of accident?” Savannah asked.
“I wonder if it was a wild animal,” Regina piped in, her eyes widening.
Savannah shot her a skeptical look. “What lives on this tiny island that could inflict such damage?”
Regina clucked her tongue. “True.”
“What else did you hear?” Savannah asked Mark.
“Nothing,” he replied. “One of the delivery guys mentioned it this morning.”
“I’ve been on this island long enough to know how rumors spread.” Savannah raised her eyebrows in skepticism. “News gets amplified and distorted pretty quickly in paradise.”
Regina gave her a half-nod. “Nevertheless, maybe you should think twice about going for a walk today.”
Savannah took another sip of coffee. It was too early for this conversation. “Why, for an unconfirmed report of an accident? Come on, I’m not going to get spooked over something that was probably blown way out of proportion. I bet it was just some guy who had a minor injury. The next person says he lost an arm. The next, he was killed. And so on. You know how it goes.”
Regina titled her head as she glanced at Mark. “City girls. Always so skeptical.”
Mark laughed and then added, “Suspicious of anything without cold hard facts.”
As Savannah bundled up with layers of fleece, gloves, and furry snow boots to go on her morning walk, she did have a minute of hesitation. All the talk about the accident did have a way of setting her imagination rife with possibilities of what actually happened.
Nah, they were just trying to spook her out. She was sure the guy was perfectly fine. Perhaps needed a few stitches from a minor work accident. They’d probably hear the real story in due time, if there even was one. Anyway, she chose to stay close to the castle just in case, no need to seek danger in the woods on the other side of the island.
She walked throughout the snowy trails through the trees near the coast. With each step, she forgot about the dockworker as her thoughts were drawn inward, to a much darker place, remembering what happened with Antoine last night. His image was burned onto her memory. His dark eyes, full brows, strong nose, and defined lips were imprinted in her mind.
Stepping out of her good girl role into that naughtier version of herself last night had given her a taste of decadence she didn’t want to relinquish any time soon. Giving up control to let Antoine lead her down this sensual path fascinated her in ways she never would have expected.
What would happen when she returned tonight? How much further would they go?
The anticipation excited her, like Antoine promised it would. But she didn’t know how much more she could take without imploding.
Navigating the unplowed areas was trickier than she thought, and it required her concentration. On her descent from the cliffs, patches of ice hid beneath the snow. The island was filled with hiking trails, through a variety of terrain from woods and ravines to cliffs on the coast. Away from the castle, she saw signs posted to remind visitors and residents to leave the island in its natural state, not to litter or impact the ecosystem. The colony’s residents or locals who lived on the island pledged to keep the island from becoming overdeveloped. Much of its charm emanated from its rugged natural beauty. If too much of the land was built upon, it would lose the appeal that made it the ideal remote paradise many found it to be.
Some residents who came to the art colony found the island a backward way of existence that lacked all the conveniences of the modern era. Although it had running water, electricity, and cellular service, it didn’t have all the time-saving elements of a fast-paced society. Many romanticized the idea of a castle on a remote island, but once they arrived, faced the reality of not having a variety of fast food restaurants and box stores nearby, were disappointed. Those who came here and embraced the slower, simpler pace of life, reveled in the opportunity to live here and work on their music or art.
Finding a less steep pitch, Savannah descended to more level ground. She meandered without a destination in mind to clear her head of its turmoil and questions—and intense longing for night to fall. She didn’t go as far as the lighthouse and fishermen’s cottages on the opposite end of the island, exploring these trails through the snow was enough of a challenge.
Although she often admired the scenery of snow-covered trees, she wondered what the island looked like the rest of the year. What would it be like in the spring when the snows were replaced by nourishing rain, welcoming green growth? What types of flowers and grasses would grow? A part of her longed to stay here year-round to see how the island changed from season to season.
No, she was definitely not fantasizing about being a full-year resident of the island, she told herself. Certainly not.
The last thing Savannah expected when she came to Chateau DeRoche was to meet someone like Antoine. He appeared to haunt the castle in the evenings, never appearing in daylight. He told them his internal clock was set to be a night owl, and he did his best work in the evening when most of the rest of the castle’s occupants were sleeping.
She had suspicions that there was more to the story than he revealed, which were all but confirmed when she saw the gleaming fangs. Could he be―?
No, that didn’t make sense. Vampires didn’t exist. There had to be some other explanation.
Like what?
She’d never noticed the fangs before last night. Sharp white fangs.
A frightening thought entered her mind. Could he have lured residents here to this isolated world to—feed? From the beginning, she’d sensed something different about him. And fangs indicated he was a predator. Were there here not as residents, but to serve a much darker need?
No, no, no. You sound paranoid. You’ve been here for six weeks. Has he attacked you? Attacked anyone? Has there been any indication that he poses a danger to any of you?
Savannah shook her head at how ridiculous she was being. Instead of being grateful for the opportunity to live and work here, she concocted some wild nightmare of Antoine luring artists here to feed in a frenzied bloodlust.
He had you alone last night. Don’t you think he would have used that opportunity to attack if that was his intent?
Yesterday evening when he asked her to come to his study, she never dreamed what he had in store. Her body heated remembering his touch, the way his eyes traveled over her and the sting of his hands against her skin, drawing out such intense pain and pleasure in one. No signs of wanting to harm her.
Yes, she was being stupid, she decided as she followed the perimeter of the island along the coast. She returned to the cobblestone path that led to the castle. At least this stretch was cleared of snow so it would be easier to transport the weekly deliveries of food and supplies. When she approached, the many gargoyles perched among the ornate stone carvings welcomed her back.
She reached the grounds, but wasn’t ready to go inside. It would be agony while she waited for sunset to go to him, when she knew he was so close.
Instead, Savannah headed down to the shore. The breeze off the Atlantic was mild enough today that she didn’t run back inside for cover. She ventured down to the rocks near the shore and walked the sands keeping watch for signs of driftwood and sea glass. She found a piece of driftwood, tangled with seaweed and unwrapped the salty olive green mass from it. Then she walked over to place the driftwood along with others she’d collected, further up the beach away from the tide.
For several more minutes, Savannah stared out into the waves, watching them crash. The eternal sound of ebbing and flowing lulled her into a near meditative state. When she felt restored enough to head back inside the castle, she caught sight of one of Antoine’s sculptures in the foyer. A marble rendition of a nude couple. The male draped his arm protectively around her waist, drawing her to him. She appeared more fluid, standing before him and leaning forward in response to his touch. The movement was almost visible—it was as if Antoine caught a private moment in the midst of two lovers’ passionate embrace.
Savannah ran her finger down the man’s back, down his muscular thigh, letting her skin react to the coolness of the marble, remembering Antoine’s whisper after she touched another one of his sculptures. Closing her eyes to replay the scenario, she was reminded of the tingles spreading through her when his hand took hers.
White skin. A protective embrace. A man so intoxicating, the slightest touch drew his woman to him.
A wave of inspiration hit her, not unlike one she mentioned to Regina at breakfast. She went back to her room and grabbed her writing pad and iPhone and then wandered the hallways to find an empty sitting room. Her favorite one was free; a circular room that left the gray rocks that formed much of the exterior uncovered and had enormous windows overlooking the sea. She curled up on a dark blue chaise and played Morphine’s Cure for Pain, a sexy, soulful album she often listened to when writing.
Savannah wrote with such a fierce hold on her pen that her fingers hurt. When she finished scrawling several pages, she reread what she wrote. Dark poems, full of longing and passion. The deep, inner desires of a woman pushing her limits while exploring her lover. Intense fantasies described through metaphor.
Holy hell. What was Antoine bringing out in her?
She flipped through the beginning and read some earlier attempts at love poems written back in Boston, inspired by unrequited schoolgirl crushes. They seemed so light and superficial in comparison. Since she’d come to the castle, her work had taken on a darker, more sensuous nature. Perhaps they were influenced by the brooding setting of this castle perched above these untamed cliffs. Or had her fascination with Antoine’s brooding nature inspired more than just her art?
Shaking her head, she wondered what she was getting herself into. Artists could come to the colony for as little as two weeks or as long as six months. Savannah had chosen three months, which was a reasonable compromise for how long she could get away from her university life. And now with half of that done, it already seemed far too short. Was it foolish to begin something with an expiration date, which would make it even more difficult to leave?
Chapter Four
Late that afternoon, Savannah asked to have a dinner plate sent to her room. If Antoine was at dinner this evening, she couldn’t bear the heated looks in front of the others while she waited for them to be alone. Knowing how on edge she was already, it would be apparent to other residents that something was up.
While she waited for dinner to arrive, she took a long shower and groomed herself to perfection, spraying herself with a wildflower mist. She wanted to smell nice for Antoine, but didn’t want to overdo it with perfume. Who knew how sensitive his sense of smell was? A light scent seemed like a suitable choice.
A dinner tray was waiting when she stepped out of the bathroom. A sumptuous plate of lamb kabobs, Greek salad, and buttery rice. Oh, how she loved this colony. If it wasn’t for all the hikes and yoga, she probably would have packed on a few pounds from all the delicious entrees.
After she ate and brushed her teeth, Savannah dressed in sexy red lingerie, a lacy ensemble with black thigh high stockings attached to a garter belt that made her feel like the sexiest woman to walk the earth. Every woman should own an outfit like this, she thought, as she appraised herself in the mirror, imagining how Antoine’s eyes would linger over her body later on. She added an extra coat of black mascara when she applied makeup and smudged kohl eyeliner under her blue-gray eyes that gave them a smoky appeal and set off the color. Then she found a redder shade of lip gloss she reserved for special occasions and pouted in the mirror to see if it gave her the vampy look she was going for.
Not bad, you sexy bitch. You don’t look the part of a teacher’s assistant tonight.
Savannah slipped on a black wraparound dress that set off the highlights in her chestnut hair and slipped into sexy, black, strappy heels. Then she gazed out at the setting sun, waiting for night to fall. The sunsets blazed with a magnificent array of colors reflecting off the waves, highlighting the coastline rocks and cliffs as though it were artwork itself. She made it a point not to miss any during her time here. Where else would she have the luxury to enjoy such a magnificent view evening after evening? When she left the colony, the frescoes in the sky would remain imprinted on her mind for a long time.
Among other memories.
After the last vestige of the fiery, orange glow was swallowed by the sea, she forced herself to wait an extra few minutes. She didn’t want to head down to his library too early. Appear too eager.
Finally, it was time to go to Antoine.
In the hallway, she passed Tim, another resident. She’d hoped not to run into anyone to have to explain anything, but that plan had failed.
“You look nice, Savannah.” He glanced at her outfit. “Very nice. Where are you off to?”
“Uhh…” She didn’t have an explanation. “I’ll tell you later,” she said. “I’m running late.”
Real smooth, Savannah. Now what are you going to tell him next time you seem him?
Oh, who cares? That guy rarely showers or knows the definition of personal hygiene. I’m sure I can come up with something.
She practically skipped down the stone stairs leading to Antoine’s study. When she reached the door, she hesitated. A warning returned, reminding her of the fangs. Her pulse raced, and her stomach performed more twisted moves than any yoga moves she’d ever attempted as she argued with herself. One side warning her against making a poor decision, the other yearning to go in there, desperate to see him all day. After an eternity of internal debate, she knocked.
“Come in.”
His voice alone captivated her. Savannah opened the door and found him sitting in the velvet chair, onyx eyes fixated on her. Whereas last night her mind was full of uncertainly as to why he called her down here, tonight was different. She had an inkling—she just wondered how far it would go.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” His voice sizzled with hunger.
How could I respond? I’ve been thinking about you non-stop like a sex-crazed harlot since I left?
“I’m here.” It came out fairly nonchalant, considering how her body systems worked at a higher level than usual.
A smile curled from the corner of his mouth. His lips were so perfectly shaped they must have been carved by a sculptor themselves.
“You look stunning tonight.” He lifted his chin. “You know what I want you to do next.”
Savannah shifted from one foot to the other, biting her lower lip.
“Don’t be shy. We’ve gotten past that last night.” Antoine leaned forward, eyes never leaving hers. “Strip.”
She knew it was coming, but still hearing the command sent electrified pulses through her. She hesitated before untying the belt of her dress and let it drop to the floor.
“Mon Dieu.” The natural confident expression he usually wore faltered, and he shifted in his armchair.
A hint of a smile escaped her lips. Seeing Antoine’s expression as his eyes fixated upon her body made blowing a chunk of her paycheck at Victoria’s Secret worth every penny.
“I know what you’re doing,” he said, regaining his composure. “You’re trying to tease me.” He leaned back and smiled with a gleam in his eye. “You must want to be punished.”
She wanted it. But hearing him say it turned her as red as her ensemble.
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir?” he repeated. “I like that.” He rubbed his bottom lip. “Come here.”
He stood up, and she walked over to him, peering at him with expectation. He brushed her arm before he stepped behind her.
“Bend over the chair.”
Savannah leaned forward, resting her forearms onto the dark red chair arm where Antoine had sat. The indentation of his beautiful ass, which she’d admired many times over the last several weeks, remained in the cushion. The moments of anticipation were the longest and most exhilarating ones in her life.
He didn’t strike her cheeks as she had expected, but instead reached around and held her breasts. Bent forward, the weight of them rested in his hands. As he circled and squeezed them, pulling on her sensitive, taut nipples, she thought this alone provided a new form of ecstasy.
