by L. A. Banks
"I am not trying to challenge your love for me, baby," she said, her voice soothing. "But you knew what I was before we even got together."
"The bites I delivered, Damali, were pure passion, which is why your wounds seal immediately when I pull out. Those transmit only the most excruciating pleasure, and radiate through your body until you weep. If I had meant to turn you, trust me, it would not have been pleasant. And if I had delivered a mind-control nick, you wouldn't even know your own fucking name right now."
She watched the way his lungs drew in and slowly released the air around them, monitoring the fact that he ran his tongue across his incisors but they never retracted.
"Yeah," he muttered, his gaze on her hard. "You didn't trust me not to run on you. So, here we are. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, like I said. Now, you've gone Neteru on me again and want to save the whole goddamned world."
"I didn't know, then, that the biblical key was missing."
"Neither did I, but still. When you dropped fang, my judgment got compromised," he admitted, his voice lowering a silky octave as his gaze raked her.
She instantly felt her body respond, making her become wet and swollen, just from the memory. Her nipples hardened and stung. Her body temp rose, making her face burn, and she took in small sips of air while fighting to hold her ground.
"What you delivered wasn't a feed bite, either," he murmured, his voice gravelly. "Woman, you have no concept. That shit will make you drool on yourself." He breathed in shallow inhales, then seemed to gather enough control to continue. "You almost nicked an artery, you went in so deep, so hard, so fast, and for so long. Once you were in, it was all over—it felt so damned good that I couldn't even nick you that first time, fangs down, notwithstanding. Now you want me to walk away from you and allow you to run headlong into some insane mission that will no doubt get you smoked. Never."
"You could have—"
"Stopped? Not bitten you back? Are you crazy?"
Carlos dragged his fingers through his hair, staring at her. "Me pull out, then? Impossible. Make you stop? Never happen. The wound wouldn't even immediately seal when you lifted your head from my throat. But in that state, I would have let you bleed me out dry."
"But I picked up that you wanted…"
"I did, baby. You have no idea how much. I ain't gonna lie—but only from you. That was my darkest fantasy, but I tried to tell you not to go there. I almost begged you to stop playing with me like that." He shook his head, and broke eye contact with her. "Masters have an Achilles' heel, too, you know, and you've been mine for a long time, girl."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just didn't understand that it was… I mean, that, I didn't—"
"Trust," he said, cutting her off, speaking slowly with a lethal quality to his words, "that I didn't have some bitch on my mind."
All she could do was nod, and look away from him. What was there to say?
He turned away and stretched out his arm, leaning on the cracked plaster of the wall, studying the ruined floor. "Then I had to suffer the ultimate humiliation and show your people just how bad it was, and they still didn't understand, didn't get it—that I wasn't feeding you from my wrists. You weren't on your knees as some submissive, scrambling for a blood hit. You're my fucking equal, and I tried to show them that. I had to stand there and listen to your boys question whether or not I knew when I'd delivered a turn bite or not, like I'm some damned amateur!"
"But at the compound, that was a feeding," she said fast. "I was—"
She stepped back two paces when his fist took out a section of the wall and he pushed away from it, his eyes glowing crimson.
"You are pissing me off, D! Even a feeding at the throat from a mate sends nothing but pleasure. That shit is so erotic that it makes time stand still. But after the bite, I didn't have it in me to explain it. I had to get out of there. Now they think I'm Satan."
When she didn't answer, he looked at her with total fury blazing in his eyes. "Don't you ever take me there again. Don't you know how private an exchange that is? And don't you know by now that's the most vulnerable moment for a master to be in? If they were to open my lair in the daylight, I would still have enough strength and awareness to take a body before I torched. But during a mate bite, of any kind, fuck it, they could smoke me before I'd ever know what hit me. I didn't even hear my own marked man, Berkfield, calling me. My lieutenants did! Your mate can only give you pleasure or open you up like that, that's why you choose one with care!" He walked in a hot circle. "And that's why they were able to take an innocent that had my mark of protection on him, while I was with you tonight!" He pointed a her. "Fuck a key."
She covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes. "Oh, shit…"
"Yeah. Oh shit. And I stood up for you in front of a room full of armed Guardians wide-open, totally blitzed. Die with honor-please. Then I send my squad off on boundary security detail, just to save your team and try to salvage my pride in front of my boyz, because I knew the details of this situation would come out on the south lawn! Don't you ever question how I feel about you!"
He flung the heavy front door open so hard that it banged against the side glass panels before it left its hinges, shattering what remained of them. "I'm taking your ass to the edge of the compound lights, and I'll pray that you live. But don't fucking call me, hear? What? Live in exile from you for four or five hundred years, if I'm lucky, or until I get dusted? I want you out of my system, Damali! So, don't start that shit, don't mess with me in dreams, do not go down memory lane and dredge up one of our encounters, especially not St. Lucia in your mind, or ever think about that last bite. Purge it. Don't even take that one to the grave. I can feel past the grave, remember, even if you're gone! Do not make my already jacked-up life a living hell. Fair? You know what this shit is like."
"I'm going after the key, Carlos. If I live, I'll do the best I can," she whispered, as the winds he called swept around him. "Because if I do accidentally think about us, it'll only be 'cause I couldn't help it. I'm human."
Carlos didn't say another word. He'd simply vanished. Weary from the confrontation, Damali looked at the mansion's front doors, which were still hanging off their hinges. She glanced around for the dogs, but they, too, were nowhere to be found. They didn't even growl when she walked deeper into the mansion, her gaze noting that the fissures in the walls, the broken-out windows, the shattered chandelier and banister posts, had not been repaired when Carlos vanished. This was bad. This was not Carlos. This was not how her man lived, or functioned.
Her feet moved on their own accord, drawing her deeper into the house, past the huge foyer, into the sumptuous living room, and then dining room, and she stood in the middle of the floor trying to figure out how to get down into his sealed lair. She'd never seen a trap door, or a way in—had only been transported in or out. Fact was, she wasn't even sure where he'd gone.
"Carlos!" she yelled out, causing an eerie echo. "I owe you an apology, and just want one more word. Five minutes, tops."
No response. She let her breath out hard. "Open the door."
Not even the breeze from outside circulated in the abandoned house. Men.
She plunged the Isis sword into the polished floor, put her dagger in her jeans' back pocket, and waited a moment before calling out again. "My team left me here with the Isis and you. That should count for something. Don't you at least want to know why?"
Slowly the large west wall fireplace began to dissolve, giving way to a black opening and marble steps. Only a narrow gap existed, and she quickly grabbed her blade and slipped through it. Immediately, total darkness surrounded her.
Twelve glowing eyes blinked, something let out a low grumbling growl, and an unseen mass before her parted, sending six eyes to either side of the opening. Not even the torches were on, and she let her breath out hard as she passed the invisible beasts to descend the stairs, feeling the wall.
She couldn't see a thing, and not even her night vision could help her
. He'd obviously not just turned out the torches to create darkness, but had practically painted the air black. The oppressive density was suffocating, as she picked her way down the steps, and used her sword like a blind person uses a cane to detect furniture or foreign objects that might make her trip and fall.
Finally in some sort of clearing, she patiently gathered her thoughts, stood tall, and spoke as calmly as she could.
"Baby, listen—"
"Do not use that term of endearment," a sullen voice replied, reverberating off the walls. "Not on me."
"Okay," she murmured, leaning on her sword, trying to get a bead on where Carlos's unseeable form might be in the room. "That's fair."
Silence gathered the tension in the room as she formed her next verbal approach.
"I chose to come with you," she said slowly.
"Why, because they finally put your ass out?"
The voice had shifted, almost seemed to be circling her. She followed it blindly, trying to keep it in front of her and not at her back.
"They wouldn't have given me the Isis if they'd put me out, Carlos. You know better than that. It would be in my chest."
Again, silence, but she could tell he was thinking.
"Remember when you just told me that I had no concept about the bite… what the different ones meant?"
There was no answer, just a low snarl coming from the corner of the room.
"You rightfully got angry about my lack of understanding," she said, pressing on, her voice unfazed. "I should have trusted that you wouldn't go off with some stray female vamp. Yes, and I should have trusted you. Just give me a chance to explain the soul-sharing ceremony to you, so at least you know how it went down. I wasn't just playing with you, or working you," she said, resolute. "It is no less sacred than a mate bite, for a Neteru."
She waited, could hear the air crackle around her. "Just like I don't have full master awareness from your line because I'm not fully turned, you don't have full Neteru awareness from mine, because you haven't been fully turned. And at the time we did what we did to each other, I had about as much self control as you—none"
She could hear a heavy piece of furniture drag across the floor and smash into the wall. Good, at least she was getting some sort of reaction.
"You were warned about the dangers first, Damali. I wasn't!"
"Yeah, but see, that's just the thing, what I was doing to you wasn't dangerous. It would pull you closer to the Light, not—"
"In case you haven't already figured it out, pulling a master vampire toward the Light is lethal."
More furniture banged, but at least she was starting to be able to see. The foreign darkness was abating and giving way to the mere absence of light. She could make out the beginnings of shapes and forms and started to gain her bearings in the room, but he was still invisible.
"Carlos, seriously. There was only good intent when I held your hands and looked into your eyes. It was a pure rush of passion to give you only the best of me… but I never meant to hurt you. That consequence never even dawned on me, or I would have warned you."
"You should have given me the option, Damali."
"Baby, I was so turned on, so into what was happening between us… you've been there, right? I lost perspective."
When he didn't answer but just breathed out hard, she spoke more gently. Everything she was saying was true—that he had to feel. She spoke slowly and softly, trying to heal his wounded male ego. "I wanted everything you had to give, and wanted to give that right back from me to you."
"D… I don't want to talk about it, or go back to that, right now," the deep voice said, but with much less force. "What's done is done, and you're getting away from the subject at hand, namely, a solution."
"I'm not going to apologize for wanting a full life with you… a future, and normal, healthy babies one day… and friends and family all around, unafraid of creatures of the night preying on them… I refuse to apologize about the fact that ever since the day we met, I've wanted to be in your arms day and night, and—"
"I wanted all those things, too, but you took my pride in the transaction, girl," he said, cutting her off and materializing with his back to her. "My fucking respect. What good is a man with no respect?" He let his breath out hard. "My fucking nose ain't no better than Rider's now. No respect!"
"Respect?" This was some crazy man-shit that she knew she'd never figure out. Prowess bullshit was bad enough in normal human males, but she had no concept of what she'd be dealing with if she had to do circle logic with a master vampire. "Nadie duda de tu capacidad," she said as gently as possible.
"Oh, right, no one doubts my ability," he said in a low seethe, his angry breaths making his back expand and contract as he spoke. "You'd better stop trying to work me, D… talking to me in Spanish, and using that feminine bullshit on me. It won't work. Not tonight!"
Damali felt for the side of the lair bed and flopped down on it. She garnered her patience and drew from her human knowledge base, trying to soothe his wounded ego. "Baby, you're tripping. All your vampire senses are intact. Marlene was just… she was just pissed when she said all that. Rider was, too." Damali waved her arms about. "You can still do your vamp thing. There's nothing wrong with your nose, okay? And anyway, I would never disrespect you. Why would I do that—or want to be with some brother I didn't respect?"
"Not you," he snapped, finally whirling on her to face her. His eyes blazed red, flickering intermittently gold. "I'm a damned head of state! When I go to council meetings, I already have to stop my fucking heartbeat just to enter chambers. I can't go down there with the rest of my shit raggedy. They can't think I have any soft spots, least of all in my heart, woman. And you are disrespecting me by insisting on going after the seal and the key, with or without me. Are you crazy?"
Damali squinted at him in the darkness. Okay, point well taken about him having to keep up appearances in front of the other vampires, but saving humanity was nonnegotiable. She needed him on her side, for them to work as a team, and she was not going to allow him to give in to some unnecessary drama.
"I'm a Neteru—a head of state, too, if you will. A ruler. And, trust me, brother, I'm not supposed to have fangs."
She couldn't believe he was being so stubborn. "You've got problems?" she said, standing. "Yeah, well, I can tell you there's probably an angelic battalion up there ready to hand-deliver me to the other side. They're done. They'll probably drop-kick my butt into the pit, if this goes down wrong. I've temporarily disgraced my kind, too. But as long as we're both still in the game, we can make something positive and honorable come out of both our indiscretions. So what are we going to do about this shit?"
"I don't know," he muttered. "Mar can probably give you something or your system will purge it on its own. The good will purge the darkness, but the thing you forgot, Damali, is that the darkness can never completely banish the Light. It only works to your advantage, not mine. Metaphysics, baby, that's what this whole war is all about on the grand level. Remember?"
"And how is it not in your best interest to ultimately have the Light banish the darkness within you?" She put her hands on her hips, leaving the Isis on the bed, and looked at his now-solid image hard.
"I liked my powers," he said quietly. "All of them."
She didn't say a word, just stared at him.
"Girl, you know how I rolled. Even when I was alive, I always went top-shelf, was never no scrambler. I handled my business with authority. My territory was tight." He walked away from her, and raked his fingers through his hair down to the scalp. "There were things I wanted to give you, to show you, now my resources are all jacked up."
"You are going to have to explain that resource issue to me," she said, her voice firm, but also gentle. "And you know I never cared about—"
"That's the thing—you didn't; I did," he murmured. He turned and leaned against the wall, speaking to the floor. "You know, they tell young brothers to do the right thing… and yet, the options and resul
ts are really fucked up. Dead or alive, the people who say to do the right thing have the system rigged so that it's almost impossible to get your head above water by following their convoluted rules… rules that they never followed until after they'd gotten what they'd wanted." He glanced up and held her gaze while speaking in a far-off tone.
"I didn't have to become a vampire to see. A blind man could see it. I may not have been to college, but trust me, I've been schooled well. The powerful still plunder countries, neighborhoods, territories, for what they want to seize—by force. Robber barons, imperialists, mobsters turned presidents… then, they go legit. They've only cracked open the door to let a few not like them in, and under very controlled circumstances. Yeah, I messed up while alive, because I wanted the same power they had. I wanted the same respect. For me, then, like now, living or existing without that wasn't, and isn't, in my DNA."
For a moment, she had no answer for him. The world was indeed unfair; there was no argument about it. She knew what he was talking about, that's probably why she'd been created to tip the scales to bring forth the truth about a lot of things. Spoken word. However, getting sucked into the twisted game still wasn't the answer. What she knew she had to get across to him. Carlos had to understand that the real issue was in finding a way to flip the script without going dark oneself. Spiritual Jujitsu. Leverage the dark against itself so that something positive would come out of any negative situation that occurred.
"I hear you," she said after a while. "But there are a lot of ways to get and keep respect without doing the terrible things the oppressors of people have done. We saw how that messed up the were-demon in Brazil. You've gotta be creative, faster than them, smarter than them. You have been dead long enough to see where that leads, so why—"
"Because as a woman, you will never understand this thing that men need called respect." He looked up at her, his eyes hard but his tone calm and logical. "I liked being able to provide for me and mine," he said flatly. "I liked having motherfuckers step out of my path, afraid. Yeah." He pushed himself off the wall and stood proud. "I liked being able to take my woman wherever knowing that I could afford to get her anything she wanted; even if she didn't want a thing, it was, and always has been, about power. Dead or alive. I do not like going anywhere with a question in my mind about what if. I must have total control of my shit."
