Scented Lust

by Jacqueline Turner Banks

  Tyler was right—his charge should have been and was his first concern.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She saw it happen. Artest didn’t know it, but Jordan could see Jahia and the “fairy” talking in the kitchen as Jahia frantically searched through what looked like a day planner. Jahia must have found the number because she set down the book and started dialing, The Fairy was standing behind her while Jahia was on the telephone. It was a wall phone, and Jahia was leaning against the kitchen counter as she talked.

  Jordan saw the Fairy change into a much taller man, but she had no reason to believe that was strange, considering all that she’d already seen and heard. She didn’t know if Jahia sensed what happened or if she saw the reflection in one of the appliances, but when she turned around she had a dagger, very similar to Artest’s, in her hand—but only for as long as it took to plunge it into the man’s throat. She cut him from one ear almost to the other. The man spit on Jahia seconds before he imploded into a million black pixels that vanished into thin air.

  Jordan noticed then that Jahia looked down at her kitchen floor. She couldn’t see what Jahia saw, but there must have been some blood left on the tile. She then took a few paper towels, opened a cabinet and grabbed some Windex spray and cleaned the spot. She was throwing away the paper towel when Tyler came in and embraced her. All of this happened so fast Jordan was prepared to not believe it until she smelled the horrid stench of inhuman death.

  Jordan felt she’d seen enough—she was ready to leave. Maybe the pretty girls grew up ready to handle the drama that comes with dating the pretty boys, but that wasn’t her experience. I’m a simple girl with simple requirements, and none of my needs require a dagger or an automatic sword hidden or in plain view.

  She couldn’t stop shaking. It was like the chair she was sitting on had been fashioned from a cube of ice. At one point she saw Tyler looking at her, but she still couldn’t stop. If somebody had shouted fire at that moment, she would’ve had to burn. She stopped being able to hear soon after she saw the man implode, but she did see two Hunters leading the woman away. This struck her as odd, but she couldn’t have said why at that moment. A few beats later, she realized it was odd because neither of the Hunters were Artest. She’d assumed he would handle his capture.

  “Stand up and let me hold you,” he said, while the rest of the guests crowded around the kitchen.

  She did exactly what he’d said, and she was thankful that he hadn’t made the directions difficult.

  “Close your eyes, my dear—you are safe.”

  Again, she obeyed. When she opened her eyes, they were in the upstairs bedroom. Jordan had known he was going to transport her somewhere, but she had hoped it would be back to her apartment or his house.

  “This is still the safest place in town. Most of the people downstairs are spending the night.”

  “But they got in here!”

  “But they’re not leaving, Jordan. They can’t hurt you.”

  “Do you think they communicated with the others while they were here?”

  She was sitting on the bed, and he was pacing. He stopped when she asked that question and sat next to her. He looked at her with those eyes, unlike any she’d ever seen. His dark pupils seemed to move like the fluid in a magic eight ball. How can this man, whom I’ve only known for hours, feel so important to my future? When she looked into his licorice pools, she felt that he and he alone knew what was best for her.

  “I’m not going to lie to you. Yes, I believe they were communicating back to the others. I’m just glad we found out before the real meeting.”

  “But they know I’m still with you.”

  He wrapped his arm around me. “Yes, they do, but they know I’m keeping you close, and they have to come through me to get to you.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “What’s next?”

  “Everybody is just turning in for the night. We’ll work through this mess in the morning.”

  “Everybody is staying over?”

  “Most of them, even the ones from Oakland, San Francisco, and the rest of the Bay Area. Our sanctuary has been violated—they can’t leave.”

  “Where will they all sleep?”

  He held my face in his hands and stared at me. “I don’t know, Jordan, but I’m sure they’ll be fine. As long as they don’t interfere with me holding you in my arms until the sun comes up again.”

  He leaned down and rubbed his lips against hers. She thought he was going to kiss her, but then he just rubbed his cheek against her. “Did it scare you?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You handled it well. You seem to handle everything well. Why is that, Jordan? If this were a story, I would learn that you’re a goddess or maybe some other kind of immortal.”

  “Some other kind of immortal? Artest, until today I never knew there was any kind of immortal!”

  “But you’re not going to cry or anything, right?”

  “Since that sounds more like a request than a question, I guess I won’t.” She didn’t mean to have an edge to her voice, but she didn’t mean to see a person implode either.

  She wanted to sleep and she wanted to wake and learn it was all a nightmare, the kind I tend to get when I eat too heavily before bed. But that would leave me in a life without him.

  She looked at him. She could tell he was “talking” to someone. His head was tilted like he might have been listening for a sound in the distance. He nodded as if his conversation partner could see him as well. Am I in a life with him; is that even possible?

  “Before they kill—” He stopped himself; he seemed to be searching for the right phrasing. “The Bloodsucker that had shape shifted to become Katherine said something about some in-fighting between two fractions. They would have had the edge, had they been successful.”

  She nodded. “How did you all know that she was an imposter?”

  “Katherine’s aunt and uncle did buy a villa in South Africa, we all knew that, but her aunt was killed before they had a chance to move in.”

  “Was she a Dogon-Hunter?”

  “Yes, she died in Service.”

  She hated how he said those words with such pride. Dead was dead, and, as far as she was concerned, how it happened didn’t make it any less so.

  “Is that how you want to die?”

  He laughed. “No, I want to retire and die in the arms of the mother of my children, but that won’t happen. So I guess it’s safe to say, if I have to die before I get to hold a child of my own, then let it be in Service.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’m not sure it’ll be in Service.”

  “No, how can you be so sure it won’t be with the mother of your children?”

  That sadness that never seemed too far from the surface returned. He was still smiling, but she didn’t feel any joy coming from him. “Because I’m not exactly what’s been described as lovable.”

  How can he not know? “Is that your way of fishing for compliments?”

  He grinned. “No, I’m not fishing. I know that Hunters have adapted to appeal to the visual, but that’s never made anybody pledge her undying love to me.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  She saw that sadness wash over his face again. “You’re right, I have heard the words before, and I believe they were true, but it’s that until death provision that keeps queering the deal. Maybe some beings are supposed to be alone.”

  She wanted to know more, but she couldn’t be the one to cause the sadness in his eyes. Then she remembered something else she wanted to ask about. “Artest, who’s the Pale Fox?”

  He smiled. “Who mentioned the Pale Fox to you?”

  “It wasn’t really to me, but somebody said he got an answer from the Pale Fox.”

  He rubbed his eyes and said, “it’s a long story. I can think of a much better use of our time.”

  “It’s upsetting?”

  “Not at all,” he said, but she could tell hi
s mind was elsewhere. She wanted to follow him to a happier place, but she was having a difficult time letting go of the image of that person disappearing before her eyes.

  “Let me help you relax.”

  “Let me get this straight—there’s something you want to do for me?” she teased.

  “Absolutely, my dear, all for you.”

  He pulled her down across the width of the bed.

  She wasn’t nearly as easygoing as she’d like to be. She thought about the fact that they were both still fully dressed, they were on top of Jahia’s nice bedspread, and she hadn’t done her usual pre-bedtime stuff, like washing off the makeup that would definitely ruin the before mentioned bedspread.

  As difficult as it was, she broke away from his embrace. “Artest, give me a minute to go to the bathroom and, as they say, slip into something more comfortable.”

  He looked confused. “Did you bring extra clothes?”

  “No, but I do have my birthday suit with me.”

  He grinned. “Take all the time you need. In fact, if it’s alright with you, I’ll go and check on my friends while you’re gone.”

  “Your friends downstairs, right? Not in Mali or somewhere?”

  “My friends downstairs. I promise. If you need me, just call out my name.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  He found the Hunters in the temple. There was no group activity; they were all were quietly communing and reflecting. He sat on the floor like the rest of them. Silently he asked Amma for the knowledge and strength to protect his charge. He thanked him for allowing them to prevail against the Suckers who violated their sanctuary. And he thanked him for bringing Jordan into his life. Then he called on his ancestors to walk with him into her arms if that was where they would have him.

  As he stood to check on the others, he realized it was the first time he’d ever felt compelled to ask his ancestors for help in matters related to the heart. Next I’ll be asking the Pale Fox for a sign.

  He walked around the house checking on the others, but his mind was upstairs.

  What is it about her? he asked himself. Surely I’ve known her before, during another journey? How else could she feel so special so soon?

  He found Jahia in the kitchen, sitting and drinking tea. It wouldn’t have been especially unusual, except that she was sitting in the dark and her dagger was on the table next to her tea cup.

  “How are you, my sister friend?”

  “Old and getting older.”

  “That can be said of all of us.”

  “Yes, but some more than others. Sit down for a moment, Artest. I know you’ll want to get back to Jordan, and I won’t delay you for long.”

  He sat down next to her. “Where is Tyler?”

  “On the telephone with the Priest.”

  He nodded. Of course Tyler would want to let the Priest know what happened—not that he would offer any words of encouragement or insight. Their presence was always a comfort, but in Artest’s opinion, the Priests tended to offer advice that required so much interpretation as to render it useless.

  “I’ve been thinking about what happened, Artest. Something is very wrong. Those two Bloodsuckers were sacrificed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rats don't dance in the cat's doorway. They were sent here to die. Why?”

  He shook his head; he didn’t know. He hadn’t had a chance to really think it out, but it was one of the oddest things he’d ever seen. She was right, and that scared him.

  “I’ve seen this before, centuries ago. There was a turf war going on then too. I think I’ll go online and see if I can find out anything about who they were and what the other Hunters know.”

  He stood and offered her his hand. She took it as she rose from the chair, but she said something about being stronger than she looked.

  “You know you’re strong and beautiful, but if you need to hear it, that was it.”

  She smiled and nudged him. “I’m not the one who needs to hear your bull. Get back upstairs.”

  “I can’t believe you’re encouraging this. She is Ketier, Jahia.”

  “That might be true, but I believe this one is special.”

  “So do I.” Yes, so do I.

  * * * *

  The drapes were drawn and she was under the blankets when he returned. He disposed of his clothes as he walked to the bed.

  “I was counting to one hundred,” she said as soon as he drew her to him. “I was putting my clothes back on after that.”

  ‘What number were you on?” he asked as he ran his tongue along the rim of her ear.

  “I was on ninety-nine point three out of one hundred.”

  He laughed. “God, I love the American school system.”

  “That better not be a dig!”

  “No, darling, the digging comes later.” He kissed his way from her ear to her graceful neck. He let his tongue rest on her pulse and imagined that he could feel her blood beating in his veins, making its way through his body and making him strong and harder with each beat. He sucked the spot until he was sure he’d left his mark, something he hadn’t purposely done in many lifetimes. He knew it was a childish thing to do, but, if he could have written his name across her forehead, he would have if it would’ve assured that no other man would ever touch her.

  He couldn’t decide which nipple he wanted first. Her breasts were unlike any he’d ever seen in that the areola was puffy and the nipples were long. He didn’t think the two turn-ons could exist on the same woman. Gently he pressed her breasts together and attempted to feed them both into his waiting mouth. Her full, luscious breasts were willing, but still the distance between her nipples forced him to choose. He took the right one in his mouth. It was hot and rigid and growing with each mouth-suctioning pull. He sucked and imagined how sweet her milk would taste. Even the thought of their own child feeding from it made the feral Dogon-Hunter in him feel jealous, and he latched on harder.

  She moaned, and a wave of intense arousal surged through him. She stroked his cheek, and he opened his eyes. With both hands, she was offering him her left nipple. Still he wanted them both in his mouth, but he let go of the right, then immediately took the left.

  “Suck it hard like you did the other one,” she whispered.

  He sensed some embarrassment in her request, and it charged his senses to know she was operating on raw instinct. He’d heard pillow talk in many different languages, but never before had words so ignited him. Had she chosen that moment to touch his hardness, it would have been his release.

  “Yes, like that,” she said, moaning.

  As if she’d heard his thought, her hand sought him. Not yet. He closed the millimeters between them and took her greedy fingers into his mouth. Then he used her wet fingers to rub the nipple that he’d already tasted. He grinded his pelvis into hers, and again she moaned.

  “You’ve got to teach me your clothes removal trick,” she said.

  “If I had my way you would never wear them.”

  She said something, or perhaps it was another moan—his ears had inched between her thighs, and taste and smell were the only senses working. Her scent was concentrated Jordan, and he couldn’t get enough of it. As much as he valued their first time together, her excitement was nowhere near as obvious as it was then. Her juices ran like nectar, and he slurped like a man in need of nourishment. He teased her clitoris with his tongue, and she quaked, a warning of things to come.

  “I want you now,” she said.

  I want you now and forever, he thought, thoroughly surprising himself. It made him momentarily pause. No. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about what came next, after the crisis—–when it was time for them to part ways.

  He didn’t want to stop, but he knew it would only get better. He licked and nibbled his way back up her body. With his right leg, he parted her legs, but she stopped him. “Wait,” she said, “why should your mouth have all the fun?”

  She mirrored his tongue, moving down his body u
ntil she reached the crease that joined his lower body to his torso. She sampled his taste across one side and then the other. He felt like he would explode if she didn’t hurry up and touch his erection. Again, as if she’d heard, she cupped his sac with just her fingertips and hefted as if she was gauging their weight. He expected her to take him into her mouth, but he was wrong. She opened wide and enclosed his pouch in the warm wetness, allowing her tongue to play with his glands.

  “Damn, girl,” was all he could say.

  She let his sac slide from her mouth as she licked his hardness from the base to the tip and back down again. Then she took as much as she could into her mouth. Not wanting to make her gag, he moved back, but she cupped his ass and pulled him forward. While her mouth, tongue and throat engulfed him, she carefully avoided scratching him with her fingernails while her index finger forged its own entrance.