Sarita surveyed the man on the table and shook her head. "If I'd passed him on the street, I never would have known he wasn't human."
"That's the beauty of it. He is human," Dr. Dressler assured her. "He and others like him have children and families and live, laugh, and love just like the rest of us. Only they get to do it longer and don't suffer illness while they do. He's no different than you or I except for those nanos. Without them, he would be merely mortal, and with them, we could be immortal."
Sarita stiffened, something in his voice as he said that last part disturbing her. "You cut him in half," she said slowly, putting it together in her head. "You want the nanos and cut him in half to try to get them."
"No," Dr. Dressler assured her. "That would be a waste. The nanos are programmed to remain in the host body. Even bleeding them dry doesn't work. The nanos apparently move into the organs and skin to avoid leaving with the blood. You might get a couple from your efforts, but those disintegrate quickly once out of the body."
Sarita was about to ask how he knew that, and how the man had got cut in half if he hadn't done it, when Dressler continued, "I know the nanos must be transferrable, though. They have to be for them to turn their life mates."
"Life mates?" she echoed, briefly distracted.
"Hmm." He nodded thoughtfully. "Apparently while immortals can read and control most mortals, there are a few instances when they can't. One is if the mortal is mad. Apparently, that makes it difficult. The other is if the mortal is a life mate to them. In fact, that is how they recognize a life mate."
Sarita opened her mouth to ask what a life mate was, but closed it again as he said, "Anyway, I didn't cut him in half in an effort to retrieve nanos. I did it as part of an experiment to see how long his upper and lower body could be separated and yet still repair itself if pressed back together. We started with thirty seconds, and have been working our way up from there. This time it was two hours. Of course you have to void them of blood before doing it or else the nanos try to use what blood they have to try to repair the body at once while separated. The two halves start to seal, the bottom half dying from lack of blood long before it finishes the job. But as long as there is no blood, it's as if the nanos force the body into a sort of stasis. Once you put the two halves back together and add blood though, they kick into action and heal the body. It works if you just cut off a finger, hand, foot, or limb too. And the faster you give them blood, the faster they heal."
"Dear God," Sarita breathed, peering down at the man on the table. She was horrified that Dr. Dressler had actually deliberately inflicted this kind of pain on a living, breathing human . . . vampire or not.
"I have made it my business to find out all I can about their kind but must confess I'm growing tired of this experiment. I think we'll move on to removing a limb and destroying it, and then see if the nanos can build a new limb in its place."
"You--" Sarita broke off in shock when he suddenly raised the second syringe he'd prepared and shoved it into her neck, pressing the plunger home. It happened so quickly she didn't get a chance to react or try to stop him. By the time she started to raise her hand, he was already pulling the needle out and setting it on the wheeled tray.
"Wh--?" She stared at him in horror, unable to form the question she was trying to ask. When she swayed on her feet, he caught her arm to steady her, and then glanced toward the ceiling as the sound of a loud engine reached them.
"That will be the helicopter returning with your life mate," Dr. Dressler murmured and then offered her a smile as he let her sink slowly to the floor. "The two of you are going to be a great help to me, Sarita. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."
Two
Sarita stirred sleepily, slowly realizing she was on her back in bed. She never slept on her back. She was a side sleeper and always had been. Being on her back with her hands resting just below her breasts . . . well, frankly it made her think of her father in his coffin.
Grimacing as that thought pulled her the rest of the way from sleep, Sarita promptly turned onto her side and let her eyes open. She then froze for a heartbeat before jerking to a sitting position in bed.
"What the hell?" she muttered, staring around at the alien room.
It was not her bedroom in her sunny little apartment in Toronto, Ontario. This room was decorated all in white. It was also at least three times the size of her room at home. Three large ceiling fans hung overhead, spinning in a desultory fashion and stirring up a nice soft breeze, and they, along with the three sets of French doors that lined the wall to her left seemed to parcel off each section of the room without the need for walls. In front of the doors at the far end, a couch, loveseat, and two chairs made up a sitting area, all were wicker with white cushions. In front of the middle set of doors was a small, glass-topped wicker dining table for two. The final set of French doors was right next to the bed she was sitting in, which was a sea of white bedclothes. Sarita had never seen a bed so big. It was bigger than king-sized, certainly. It was also terribly romantic with gossamer white curtains pulled back to drape at each post of the four-poster bed.
All in all, it looked like she'd been dumped in the middle of an advertisement for a honeymoon retreat in a tropical paradise, Sarita thought, peering out at the plants and palm trees she could see through the doors next to the bed. There was a stone floored terrace just outside the doors, but beyond that was a wall of jungle that would offer privacy to any honeymooners making use of the four-poster. It was a lovely room, and a lovely setup . . . but she had no idea how she'd got there or what she was doing there.
Pushing the soft white sheets aside, Sarita slipped her feet to the hardwood floor on the same side as the French doors, and then noticed the white nightgown she was wearing and paused to finger it with bewilderment. This was definitely not hers. She was the kind of gal who slept in an overlarge T-shirt and cotton panties. This too was straight out of an advertisement for honeymooning in paradise. Spaghetti straps dropped down to make up a piped and gathered neckline that barely reached above her nipples, and even then didn't cover them well. The material was thin and sheer, offering cover to her breasts only because of the way the material gathered there. The silky material wasn't presently gathered on her legs, however, and she could clearly see her tan legs through it and even the mole on her upper right thigh.
Standing abruptly, Sarita glanced around, relieved when she spotted a robe draped over a wicker chest at the foot of the bed. She hadn't noticed it on her first scan of the room. Moving to the end of the bed, she snatched up the material and quickly shrugged her arms into it. A grimace claimed her lips, though, as she wrapped it around front and used the sash to tie it closed. The robe was as light and sheer as the nightgown, the neckline piped and gathered too and just as low as the neckline on the gown. They were obviously a set but weren't meant for covering anything.
Muttering under her breath, Sarita took another look around the room in search of actual clothing, preferably her own. But there was no sign of luggage or even drawers that might hold her possessions.
Aside from the French doors leading outside, there were also three solid wood doors in the room, all painted white to match the walls. One of the doors was in the wall opposite the bed, beyond the wicker furniture. For some reason Sarita suspected it was the one that led out into the rest of the house or hotel this room was in. She turned away from it for now, unwilling to leave the room dressed as she was.
Her gaze slid between the other two remaining doors. Both were in the wall the bed butted up against, one on either side of it, in fact. The one on the side she stood on was open, and Sarita found herself looking into a large white bathroom.
Moving to the doorway, she glanced around and saw that the honeymoon theme continued here with a tub built for two and a large glass-walled shower you could have fit most normal-sized bathrooms into . . . or two people having crazy monkey sex. There was also a long white marble counter with two sinks, a separate smaller counter with a chair and large
lighted mirror for doing makeup, and a door leading to an entirely separate small room that turned out to hold nothing but a toilet and a bidet.
Sarita peered at them and was suddenly aware that she had to relieve herself. Sighing, she quickly slipped inside to use the facilities, her mind racing. A plethora of questions were chasing each other through her mind. Unfortunately, she had no answers and her mind was just running around in circles in her head. Where was she? What had happened? How had she got here? Whose clothes were these? And how had she got into them?
Sarita wondered about that as she noted that even the panties she wore weren't her own. A silky white thong was the only thing under the nightgown. Sarita did not wear thongs. She'd tried them once because they were so sexy-looking, but hadn't been able to bear the feeling of having a constant wedgie. What the hell was going on? That seemed to be the question that kept drumming through her head. The last thing she remembered . . .
Actually, her memory was pretty fuzzy just now. She had some vague recollection of a lab and a corpse and some nonsense about vampires, but it was all so disjointed and surreal in her mind that she felt sure it was some fragmented nightmare she'd had. She also had something in her mind about worry for her grandmother, but, again, it was so fragmented and fuzzy she wasn't sure whether it was real or a dream. For all she knew, what was happening right now was a dream too. Certainly she couldn't afford a vacation in a place like this.
Panic tried to climb up inside her, but Sarita forced it down. She was a police officer, trained to control her automatic responses and assess situations before deciding the best way to respond to them. So . . . she would assess, Sarita decided firmly as she finished in the water closet.
Stepping back out into the large bathroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the sinks. The sight made her blink. Her black hair fell in wild abandon around her face and over her shoulders. It and her tan skin were an amazing contrast to the sheer white, flowing gown and robe. She looked like she'd stepped out of a gothic novel . . . or a porno, she thought with dismay, noting how her tan skin and the white thong she wore were revealed through the sheer cloth as she moved. Fortunately, the way the material gathered at the neckline helped hide her breasts . . . mostly.
Clucking her tongue with irritation, Sarita quickly washed and dried her hands, using the soap and fluffy white towels provided. Their presence made her start opening drawers and cupboards in the bathroom to see what they held. She found loads of soap, shampoo, conditioner, towels, and washcloths in the cupboards under the sink.
Lifting the makeup tabletop next, she found more cosmetics than a woman could use in a lifetime. There seemed to be every shade of lipstick, blush, and eye shadow ever created, all brand-new and with their wrapping intact. There were also various eyeliners, mascara, tweezers, nail files, and clippers, and so forth in the same packaged state, along with a hair dryer, several different curling irons, from flat to huge curls, and hairspray as well as various hairbrushes and combs. Basically, anything a woman might need to make herself pretty for any occasion.
Sarita stood still for a moment, simply staring at what was available as she tried to understand what all of this meant. The sheer sexy nightgown, the makeup, the big bed . . .
"No," she muttered and then let the makeup tabletop drop as she whirled away to hurry out of the bathroom. The bedroom was still empty--that was all Sarita noticed as she rushed around the bed to the door on the other side of it. Her breath left her on a relieved sigh as she opened that one to find a walk-in closet stuffed with clothes and shoes.
Thank God! She could put on some real clothes and go find out where the hell she was and what was going on, Sarita thought. Her relief was short-lived, however. Within moments she was standing in the middle of the closet, forcing herself to breathe slowly.
The confusion that had assailed her on first waking had given way to anger as she'd gone through the closet. There wasn't a scrap of her own clothing here, or at least, nothing she recognized as her own. Every single item hanging up was a negligee or nightie. There were various colors and lengths, from short skimpy blue baby dolls to long see-through crimson peignoirs, but every hanging item of clothing was some revealing nightwear suitable only for a honeymoon.
As for the drawers, they were full of thongs, stockings, and bikinis. There wasn't even one bra. And those shoes she'd noticed on first entering? They were all stilettos, a rainbow selection of them, one to match every peignoir hanging up. They were sexy as hell and useless in her current situation.
Letting her breath out slowly, Sarita turned and moved back into the bedroom and then paused, unsure what her next move should be. Her gaze slid to the door she suspected led into the rest of the building . . . and possibly to answers, but Sarita found herself moving away from it. She had no idea what was beyond that door and after discovering all the negligees and baby dolls in the closet, she wasn't sure she wanted whatever answers were waiting for her. But staying where she was didn't seem a good idea either, Sarita decided as she bumped up against something and turned to stare down at the bed.
Her gaze slid reluctantly to the unknown door again, but then quickly shifted to the French doors instead. At least there she could see what she was stepping out into, Sarita thought and moved around the foot of the bed to the first of the three sets of French doors. Pausing, she peered out at the terrace and jungle, and then glanced as far to each side as she could from her position.
The terrace stretched out in both directions, left and right, the jungle bordering its length like a privacy fence. She also saw that there was wicker furniture outside, but she didn't see any people around.
Sarita reached for the handle of the right door and turned it carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once it unlatched, she eased it open and then poked her head out far enough to get a better look around. There wasn't really much more to see than that the terrace ran around both corners of the building. Sarita couldn't tell what might lie around the corner of the building to her left, but to her right she spotted the rounded end of an in-ground pool sticking out just past the building.
After a brief trip back to the bedroom to unplug and snatch up the bedside lamp, Sarita slipped out onto the terrace and began to creep along the cold stone tiles toward the right. She slowed as she passed the last set of French doors of her room and neared another set. Hand tightening on the lamp, she leaned forward just enough to peek inside.
Her gaze slid over a large open living room. It stretched the entire length of this end of the building. Again there were ceiling fans, hardwood floors, and white walls, but there were also throw rugs, and pillows adding splashes of color. The furniture was of the large overstuffed variety rather than the wicker used in the room she'd woken up in. The room was empty of any human inhabitant.
Relaxing a little, Sarita continued to the corner of the building to survey the pool and its surroundings. The jungle bordered this area too, running around the teardrop-shaped pool and back on the other side of the building. There was a waterfall at the top end of the teardrop where water spilled lazily over rocks stacked twelve feet high before dropping into the pool. It was beautiful.
Unfortunately, she wasn't in a position to enjoy it, so Sarita moved along the terrace to the next corner of the building. This one led to the front of the house, where the jungle fell away, leaving sand to border the terrace and run twenty or thirty feet down to the shore and an empty dock. She looked out at the ocean briefly and then considered the solid front double doors of the house under the shady porch before turning to retrace her steps to the open door of the bedroom.
Sarita didn't stop there, but continued on to the next corner to peer around it. More terrace and French doors awaited but there was no sign of an actual person. Sarita moved to another set of French doors and repeated her cautious peeking routine. What she found this time appeared to be an office, also uninhabited. Her gaze slid over a dark wood desk and bookshelf-lined walls, and then she continued on to a sma
ll window. Knowing this would be a new room; she slowed and peeked cautiously through the high window at . . . another bathroom. Much smaller than the one off the bedroom, it was just a toilet and sink.
A guest bathroom, she supposed, and moved cautiously forward to the first of two sets of French doors beyond the bathroom. Sarita wasn't surprised when the first set of doors gave her a view of a kitchen, while the second revealed a dining area. She was surprised however that both rooms were just as empty as the rest of the house.
Pausing at the front corner on this side of the house, Sarita stared out over the sand and water again and then frowned and peered at the front doors. None of this was making sense. She was dressed for sex in the middle of a honeymoon paradise, but there didn't seem to be anyone here but her.
Unless there was a second floor, Sarita thought suddenly. She hadn't seen any stairs in her exploration, but . . .
Sarita walked quickly out onto the beach and then swung back to peer at the house. No second floor. She was alone. Which made absolutely no sense at all. Despite her embarrassing state of undress, she still would have preferred to find someone who could have explained things to her . . . like why she was here, and where here was.
Shaking her head, Sarita turned away from the house and next made her way out to the dock. She walked out onto the end of it and peered first one way and then the other along the beach, noting that it didn't stretch far on either side before curving away. So this house was on a tip of the island, or some body of land, she reasoned and glanced down, noticing what appeared to be brand-new rope on two of the dock posts. One on the post at the very tip of the dock, and one on the second one from shore, they were a good ten or fifteen feet apart, suggesting the boat that usually docked here wasn't a large one.
Sarita turned to look at the house. There was nothing but jungle around the building, no sign of a road. It could only be accessed by water. But there was no sign of a boat and she appeared to be the only person here.
For now.