The Damned

by L. A. Banks

  Carlos’s glance caught hers the very second the thought crossed her mind. You don’t know how much I wanted to be there, mi tresora. His expression was stone serious as he looked away, leaned his head back, and sat as though in deep meditation. I couldn’t. I was injured. I would have changed the fate of the world, anyway, if I wasn’t. But, I promise, I’ll make it up to you tonight.

  She stared at his back. I know. But not tonight. Damali quickly glanced away and returned her attention to the sword that had practically come alive in her hands. Madame Isis never did this, she mused. The old girl never had a charge on it like what was running through her palms now. She had to distract herself, had to keep her focus. The brief mental answer she’d given Carlos was all she’d allow for a mind lock with others around. That had always been a volatile connection between them, and in a family tent with no options for privacy, there was no way was she going to keep this up.

  You don’t understand. The tone of Carlos’s mental reply made her drop the polishing rag. The message was urgent, visceral, sent through the steel on her lap as a sensation at one with the thought. You never opened Pandora’s Box, never tasted being with the only one for you while in this state. Damali, you cannot imagine … He took a deep breath. I have to laugh to keep from crying, right about through here. Once. Once? Baby, that was just enough to make me crazy. I can’t stop thinking about earlier today.

  Nope, she was not answering him or addressing what he’d just mentally jettisoned toward her. Yeah, he was crazy. Out of his dang mind. They were not alone! They were in the Himalayas near known danger—uh-uh. The family was at risk if they went off and did anything wild. She focused on the leather bindings that kept sections of the tent wall held together. Thankfully, the team was used to their Neterus sitting alone quietly at times, meditating, trying to pick up vibes, so nobody was in her or Carlos’s face.

  It was a nice ruse. Something very necessary to allow them to both cool off and recalibrate their nerves. She kept her back to the hubbub of conversation in the tent and to Carlos. He was on the other side of the tent doing the same. Good. Yes, she would mentally talk to him, but a sensual mind-lock in full view? Not here, not in front of family, and not with all that was possibly hunting them. On the mountainside was bad enough, where there was no way in heaven that she could have said no. However, that taste, as he called it, would have to hold them both for now. She smiled slightly and shook her head no with the barest hint of movement.

  Immediately, she felt a hot kiss land on her lips that parted them with an insistent tongue. She almost moaned at the sensation, but sat there, staring at the tent wall, with wide eyes. He could do that—not as a vamp? Shit! She risked glimpsing him, and all she could witness with normal sight was his back slowly expanding and contracting with deep breathing. A sweat-darkened V had formed on his shirt between his shoulder blades. The blade burned against her thighs where it lay, and it felt more like him than metal. Damali closed her eyes. Oh, this was not good.

  A few small pebbles slightly stirred on the ground, and made her open her eyes at the imperceptible sound. Mike hadn’t heard it. Was it real or happening inside her head? Damali stared at the pebbles that began to move toward Carlos, as though he were magnetic. She glanced up at the hue of the chimney smoke, which was now richly colored with his scent, flickering silver as it made its way out of the opening, but then the dark hue suddenly doubled back, separated from the smolder coming off the fire and wafted in her direction to fill the tent. The fire in the center of the floor sputtered slightly, flaring with small silver flickers. Damali nervously glanced at the others, who hadn’t noticed, but were fully engaged in whatever they were doing.

  Stop, she mentally whispered, before you take us both somewhere we can’t go.

  I can’t help it, I don’t know what’s happening to me, and I don’t have control over this.

  The scent of him was intoxicating, made her hands tremble, and made her breathing labor in response. Baby, you have to just chill. Take cleansing breaths, be still, stop sending thoughts of what you want to do. Don’t dwell on it, okay? It’ll pass. Remember what you told me when I fluxed vamp and tried to breach daylight to get to you? Focus on that, the impossible.

  Why’d you have to remind me of that morning? Too erotic.

  My bad! I meant, uh, focus on what is impossible. Not the incident.

  She felt him nod from across the tent, felt it through her back, but also felt his hands cover her breasts in a phantom touch. Oh, no … the Naksong had told him to use what he used to know, not to fear it, and bring to it into his Neteru core. If he was bringing his old vamp talents of a mind-blowing phantom caress up in this tent …

  She shook her head, trying to tell him, don’t do it, and stopped breathing for a moment when his forefingers and thumb took her nipples in a slow roll back and forth between them. The sensation created a hard throb in her bud, and then sent a burn to cover her rim until it contracted, needing his entry. She fought not to move, not to arch against the pleasure, and couldn’t make a sound, but was forced to sit there, stone rigid, as though nothing was happening at all. Cut it out.

  Warm hands poured liquid heat over her buttocks beneath her pants, caressing her skin, setting fire to it, and slid over her belly to stroke the insides of her thighs. The blade pressed hard against them, reminding her too much of him. She could feel her inner thigh muscles contract of their own volition as the gentle stroke chased heat between them. For a second, she almost forgot where she was and who was there as a finger slid against the slick, wet folds that had become engorged with want. A gentle suckle played at one nipple while the other was teased with a steady thumb flicker. She bit her lip to keep sound from exiting her mouth. Stop … baby, before we both embarrass ourselves.

  Her eyes literally crossed beneath her lids, as the sensation of his nose dragging along the edge of her shoulder and up the side of her throat stayed her complaint. Not fair. You know that’s my sweet spot. Stop. Embarrassment made her face warm as she sat perfectly still, trying not to flinch, stifling a moan, and so wet that she was afraid she’d leave a damp mark on the ground.

  Although her ears heard nothing but the chatter in the tent, she could separate out Carlos’s breaths from that, pushing the noise and movements of the others further and further to the far corners of her mind. She glanced over her shoulder at the same time he did. His eyes were solid silver and he closed them and turned away. Oh, man, this was really bad, and truly tacky. She pressed both hands together, yogi style, and tried to chase away the thick desire that had erupted between them.

  I can’t, she heard him mentally stutter. It’s worse than earlier today.

  She could feel him about to hyperventilate, which she knew would draw attention. If he started babbling some sexy shit in Spanish, it was over. Baby, breathe. But she was the one who was beginning to hyperventilate. It was a slow, steady increase, stilled only by her horror of possible in-front-of-family humiliation.

  Damali squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled sharply. He smelled so damned good, his mental caresses with an apex scent spike was blowing her away. She wanted to reach out and touch him so badly her palms ached to just allow her hands to cover his skin, feel the heat that radiated off his body. Her lips parted; she needed to kiss him hard, tangle her tongue with his. She could feel the dip in her lower back pulse with the need to jerk to his thrusts.

  The Sankofa tattoo over her base chakra had ignited spinal fluids, releasing mental spasms, as well as every other liquid her body owned. By now the draw to touch him was beyond her ability to resist, so she picked up the sword, instead, and ran her fingers down the edge of the blade. His reaction was a sharp hiss. She opened her eyes and glanced around, but realized when no conversation had abated that, he’d apparently had enough wherewithal to keep that sound a mental one.

  Put the blade down, Damali. Once, earlier today, was just a tease. After being apart for months, out of sync, no, once was not enough.

  She heard him
pause, but didn’t stop stroking the metal lying across her lap.

  The team is strapped to the gills, maybe … for an hour, they’d be all right?

  It was surely a tender offer, one nearly impossible to refuse. Maybe, if they took a couple of weapons and a blanket somewhere…. She knew she sounded crazy to her own mind, but this was like fighting one’s own DNA!

  I’m a female Neteru, I have no defense against this, Carlos. You have to be the one to hold the line, or … oh, my God, I can’t stand it. She put down the blade very carefully beside her and kept her eyes closed, blotting at the building moisture on her forehead and the damp sheen that covered her neck. She could almost feel it pool right in the center of her neck, where her collarbone created a small V. Her shirt was sticking to her; her pants felt like they’d been glued on. She wanted to, had to, get out of her clothes, or she’d suffocate in them.

  Oddly, when she opened her eyes, Carlos’s image was before her, sitting cross-legged in front of her, both staring at each other, but she knew it was just a vision. Carlos was actually sitting with his back to her, a good fifteen feet across the tent. Stop, she mentally repeated. It was bad enough that they’d made love on the mountainside without access to water, and she knew her Guardian brothers with the noses had picked that up. Now she was so wet again that it didn’t make sense. The sexual tension between them had literally made the hair stand up on Shabazz’s and Dan’s arms when they’d walked into the enclosure to rejoin the team. J.L. was practically liquefied by it. No doubt Mike heard it all … and anybody else with half a gift had picked up on the deal. If they weren’t real careful, in a minute Marlene would be in it with her second sight, and who knew if Marj or Juanita or Inez had that capacity strong enough yet to get in their business? Now, stop.

  Damali’s blade rested beside her leg as she made the request. The sword handle had been too hot to hold, felt molten in her palm. She wiped at another trickle of perspiration that rose on her forehead and slid down her temple. Was it her imagination, or did the heat in the tent kick up a few notches? Damn, this brother was drawing in elemental forces. She turned to glimpse him, and found herself staring as he slowly got up without using his hands to push off the ground. Carlos just stood in one lithe motion, sauntered over to her, garnering temporary glances and wry smiles from team members, who then went on about their business once he sat before Damali.

  “I can’t do this,” he said in a low, private murmur. “I can’t.”

  She held his hands as they faced each other, sitting in meditation position. “Yes, you can. I did. It’s hard—”

  His sly smile cut off her statement of logic.

  “It’s difficult,” she corrected.

  “For me, because of the time I was born, and probably because of what I’d been before, it gets worse at night.”

  She stared at him. She’d never considered that. All she could do was nod for a moment. “It’ll pass,” she finally said, trying to put conviction in her tone.

  The pain in his expression made her want to look away, but she couldn’t.

  “How did you deal with it?” he asked in a low, hard, whisper, his gaze open, and no games evident in it. The sound of his voice was so gravelly that it sent a silent tremor through her.

  She couldn’t immediately answer the question, or continue staring into his silver-lit eyes. She wasn’t sure how she’d made it through that ripening month when he was supposedly dead. She tucked away a new reality that made guilt twist the pit of her stomach … that was when she’d almost gone to Jose.

  Damali kept her eyes on Carlos’s hands. All of it made so much sense, now. She might be a Neteru, just as Carlos might have once been a vampire, but at the end of it all, they were human, flawed, and made of flesh and blood. Desire was a powerful entity all on its own, and to add a Neteru ripening or apex spike to the equation, anything could go down … just like adding a little vamp to the mix was a recipe for disaster.

  She knew what he was going through. All she had to do was think back on those powerful urges, the procreation imperative that had her up at night, feigning…. Yeah, she remembered wanting some so bad she was crying. Hysterics were not out of the question as her body had pressed against the sweat-damped nothingness of sheets and she’d clung to dream sensations in her fitful sleep, days offering no escape, as everything had reference to hot, raw sex…. Celibacy had been a true bitch, there was no other way to tell him.

  He squeezed her hands tighter, sending the message that he’d heard her. But the look in his eyes begged her to step outside for a little while.

  “Where?” she said with a slow smile. “Don’t even try it.”

  When he didn’t smile back, the smile slowly left her face, too. Kinetic charge filled her palms through his and raced up her arms like a quick shudder. Suddenly, no one was in the tent. The walls seemed like that of a cave. Beneath them, thick, warm, unidentifiable animal skins covered the cave floor. Dark red, Neolithic rock art was set to glow by a fire, telling a moving story of humanity’s struggle for survival against beasts. Stick figures danced across the rough walls, chasing predators with spears, arrows, and bows. The fire in the middle of the floor flared and danced with the moving frescoes. Tinder crackled within the blaze. Bits of glowing ember twigs leapt from it, striking Carlos’s bare torso as he sat before her nude, holding her hands, each flaming contact leaving a red brand that went white-silver, marking him in what seemed to be war paint.

  Her eyes filled with tears of pure need, the desire was so palpable that her fingers trembled as she touched his face. They left a deep, crimson mark where they’d landed, as though he’d been burned by her caress, and he closed his eyes and touched her face, marking her where his fingers fell.

  Then trembling touches became a sudden, violent kiss. Her hair was in his fist, his bare chest pressed against hers, the markings on it transferring to her naked skin, sending white-hot pleasure from every stripe until she cried out. She immediately knew where she was, she had gone back to the dawn of time with him. First man, first woman, that was all that there was … the first tribe, cave dwellers—hunt, eat, survive, procreate—that was all that there was. He’d apexed and gone back to Adam’s beginning … just outside the Garden when the true battle began, and where the first male Neteru had to step up. Be fruitful and multiply.

  Carlos flattened her; the erotic scent of him caused instant delirium. She moved beneath him, urgently trying to get him to enter her. They had to create, stop the burn, and be as one. But his head jerked up, and he looked over his shoulder, growled, and stood.

  Instantly she was back in the tent, no one else had changed position, no one had moved, conversations remained unbroken, no one even seemed to notice that Carlos was pacing.

  She stood slowly, trying to regain her bearings. Her breaths were open, ragged pants. Two seconds ago, she wouldn’t have cared less if he’d made love to her in a filled stadium. She was about to go to him when he held up his hand, breathing in shuddery gulps, his eyes keen on something outside the tent. She tried to focus in on what he was sensing. His scent permeated her skin, the animal skin walls of the tent. Small clumps of dirt rolled toward his feet, magnetizing to his highly charged energy. The fire sputtered and hissed as though water had been sprinkled on it, and the air swirled in a lazy dance around them. He’d inadvertently drawn the elements, and possibly something else more dangerous.

  “I’m worried now,” she finally said in a tense murmur, unable to chase away the desire burn that lingered. She was angry that she still felt it, angry that they hadn’t finished what they’d started, angry that they’d been interrupted, angry that her focus should be elsewhere, but was still locked on making love to him—

  “I know,” he said quietly, scowling at the tent walls and then briefly closing his eyes. “That is a good way to have the entire team smoked. I’m sorry, but—”

  “No apology required,” she said in a quiet, breathy voice. “I’m right there with you, but I don’t know what j
ust happened. It was like some kinda dimensional distortion that shouldn’t have gone down.”

  “I know, I know.” He bent and picked up her sword and handed it to her. “It was reflex. I couldn’t stop what I was feeling, was thinking about it so hard I just projected, I guess. I wanted to be one-on-one so bad that I couldn’t shake the image, which could’ve gotten us all jacked.” His voice remained low so only she could hear his words, and his eyes held hers for a moment. “Later.”

  She nodded and kept her tone private. “Later, but soon, I hope.”

  He closed his eyes briefly and nodded, sucking in a huge breath, and kept his voice intimate, like hers. “I am really pissed off, right about through here.”

  “Ditto, but can you sense what’s coming?”

  He tilted his head, stared at the wall, but a sly smile tugged at his mouth. “Yeah.”

  “All jokes aside, you just perfumed the entire mountain, brother.” Damali pushed the tip of the sword into the dirt so it stood beside her and glimpsed up at the hole in the tent. The remnants of sunset were nearly gone. She raked her fingers through her hair. “If you hadn’t pulled up, you would have had me calling your name in front of the team. Now try to think of what made you stop like that.”

  Part of what disturbed her, beyond the acute ache of the interruption, was that he’d looked up the way master vampires did when interrupted in their lair. She hadn’t seen that look in his eyes, or heard that low resonant growl split his diaphragm in a very long time. She’d thought that had completely gone out of his system, and the fact that it was fused with a Neteru love-making dance really worried her no end. So did the time-distortion thing he’d just done. It was as though some of his old master’s abilities had come back with the new apex, which really worried her.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said in a quiet tone, his gaze slowly moving over the tent wall. “It was a large presence, female, dangerous.”

  The fact that Carlos’s mating vibration was strong enough to produce a virtual hallucination still had her reeling. Her knees still felt like rubber. But it also meant that it was more than a lure to something they had to kill. It was here, somewhere, turned on, and on the move.