"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.