Although she made his desire soar, there was a question he'd been dying to ask her. He brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen from her bun. Surprisingly, the bun remained in tack after all of the shaking and moving they'd been engaged in. He sat up, bringing her up with him. He assisted her over his thighs, loving their closeness.
“Why don't you ever wear your hair down?”
She paused as if he'd doused her with freezing water. Her eyes remained on his chest, a bit longer than he liked. He placed a thumb under her chin and made her look into his eyes.
“What's the matter? Is something wrong with your hair? I feel like I can tell you anything, and I hope that you feel the same.”
She didn't say anything for a long while. Her eyes remained on his as she started to pull bobby pins from her hair. Neal counted ten hairpins, so far, and the bun still hadn't fallen.
She started, “Okay. This is going to sound crazy, but I think my hair has something to do with why the monsters I hunt are so attracted to me. When I wear it down, it seems they are more fascinated with me than usual.”
Neal laughed.
“Dana, you’re a beautiful woman. I don't think you need your hair down for men to fall all over themselves. Sometimes you are oblivious as to how men react to you. Since it is my job to watch you, I have seen the stares, the lurking eyes, and men tripping all over themselves. They make fools of themselves to get your attention. It's not just monsters you're attracting.”
She didn't seem convinced at all.
“My hair makes me different, somehow. I can't explain it. I can only show you.”
She untwisted her bun. Neal stared as long tresses of hair fell past her shoulders and cascaded down her body like a dark, curly curtain. Now he understood why she needed all the hair pins. Her hair was thick, wavy, and so long, it stretched past her chest and brushed her stomach. She'd turned to the side, so he couldn't see her face, as she shook the last remaining coils loose.
When she turned to face him, Neal's smile dropped. He sat frozen. He couldn't move nor could he find words. She was so radiantly beautiful; she'd knocked the oxygen clean from his lungs. His mouth moved, ready to spill words, but they floated away without being spoken. His eyes drank her in; her beauty had possession of his senses. He only had the will to sit there and stare.
She called to him.
“Neal, are you okay? You're staring at me like I stare at the monsters.”
He cleared his throat, but he couldn't shake the effect of seeing all that beauty. He'd never seen anything so profoundly attractive; and he was in such awe, he couldn't move even as his brain screamed for him to. He couldn't talk, even though he moved his mouth.
She raised both her hands, taking each side of all that lovely hair, and shoved it back.
Neal stopped her.
“Wait. Let me look at you for a bit longer.”
She let him look, and he was grateful to gaze upon her glorious beauty. She turned away from him and started the process of pulling her hair back.
Neal shook his head a couple of times. He cleared his mind enough to think straight. Her beauty had taken his voice and his concentration. He recovered, some, from whatever she'd done to him as he watched her braid her hair in one long plait. Once done, she glanced back at him.
Was it embarrassment he saw in her eyes?
“That's why I don't wear my hair down. It's why I wear a wig when I’m working. I don't know what it is about my hair being down that makes me so different, but it makes normal men more aggressive and reckless in their pursuit of me, and it does strange and different things to the monsters. I never know what it will make the monsters do.
“Sometimes, it works in my favor, giving me an advantage over them; and sometimes it makes them want to eat me—or drink me—even more than they already do. You, it seemed to make speechless.”
Neal took a deep breath.
“Okay. I get it. Your hair is as much an ability as your speed.”
Although he didn't admit it, Neal hadn’t fully shaken off the affect.
“So what did you see that is so different than when I have my hair up?”
He thought about how he would explain it.
“Well, it's like when you see the most beautiful thing in the world, and you only want to marvel at it, and take it in, because your mind is convincing you that you may never get a chance to see it again, and the last thing you want is to forget it.”
She raised her eyebrows, but didn't comment. He continued.
“Looking at you with your hair down is like that, but to the tenth power. If I'd been someone you were tracking, you could have easily taken me by simply letting your hair down.”
She shrugged.
“Now you know.”
He hugged her then, sensing she didn't view her hair as an advantage.
Neal sensed it in her stare. It was time for her to turn the spotlight on him.
“You have another secret too.”
Although he didn't answer, he was sure his face gave away his questioning glare.
“Neal, sometimes, I see this deep sadness behind your eyes that you try to hide, but I see things a bit faster than the average person, remember.”
Neal presented a sad smile.
“It’s not a secret you see Dana. It falls more along the lines of a mystery.”
Her confused expression was enough for him to continue.
“Seven years ago, I was diagnosed with having amnesia. The best doctors don't even know what kind of amnesia I have. I’m missing nineteen years.”
She threw up her hands and utter disbelief flashed across her face.
“Wait, you said nineteen years? You’re only twenty-six. What am I missing?”
“I was essentially born at nineteen. Agents found me and handed me over to Top. I was in a Top medical facility for months. They ran numerous tests, trying to figure out what caused my amnesia, but they never found an answer. And so far, neither have I. Whenever I have downtime, I try to look into my past, but I have yet to find anything.”
Dana had a look of pity on her face; but quickly changed it, likely knowing he didn’t want her pity.
“Top estimated that I was at least nineteen. The only thing I came into this world with is this scar.”
Neal could see all sorts of wheels turning in her head.
“So you have no recollection of your childhood, your past, or your family? No memories at all? Wait, how did you learn everything so quickly? Technically, you’re only seven, but you don’t appear to be at a disadvantage.”
He shook his head.
“I remember nothing. Anything before the day I was found is blank. Two agents carted me from the top of the Anderson Building in DC. I don’t even know how I ended up on top of that building. I woke up and stared into the twin faces of two agents; at least that's what they told me. I’m not at a disadvantage because I was born or reborn with factory settings. I knew how to read, write, communicate and learn.
“Top thinks that I must have had some type of tactical training also. Everything they taught me, I learned at an accelerated speed. It was like I had been groomed to assume the life of a Top agent. The weirdest thing about my situation is that every test they ran on me says that there is nothing physically wrong with me that would obstruct my memories. It’s like someone literally stole the first nineteen years from me.”
Dana hugged him long and hard.
“I know you don’t want my pity, but I can't help being sympathetic to what you must feel. But, what if within those nineteen years there are things that are so horrible that it is a good thing you don’t have your memories?”
“I have thought about that, and it’s one of the things that keep me from obsessing about my situation.”
Neal wanted a lot of things from Dana, and her feeling sorry for him wasn't one of them. He changed the subject.
“I want you to sit on my face.”
****
Those words sent Dana’s senses souring. A
s she stood to take off his T-shirt, he protested.
“Don’t take anything off. I have to taste you, right now.”
Shit!
That was even better. With his help, she was zipped up to his face, like she'd climbed aboard a carnival ride. She didn’t know how he had unwrapped her so fast, but he’d pulled her panties to the side with one hand and his other was wrapped around one of her ass cheeks.
As her pulsing wet core slid against his strong waving tongue, she closed her eyes to sensations that had her gasping for air. Lustful cries spilled from her sensually parted lips. His tongue was hot and firm and hypnotic. Her attempts to breathe were sabotaged each time Neal twirled his tongue. His expert actions gave her mini orgasms that kept her from voicing her pleasure.
Each word she struggled to say was stolen. He lifted her body’s weight and when he wanted, he'd let all of her weight rest on his face and mouth. He was deliberately burying himself in her pulsing flesh and her juices, and his moans confirmed he was definitely enjoying it.
Knock. Knock.
Two hard knocks at her door caused them to both freeze. Why hadn’t she re-locked her door? Dana was under constant watch, so everyone knocked and freely peeked into her room to check on her. Just as she thought it, her door opened.
Howard, one of the guards, cracked the door. He peeped in. Dana sat there, on Neal’s face, caught in the act. She stretched the shirt to cover Neal’s head and sat, staring like she wasn't getting freaky with the man that was supposed to be protecting her.
“Hey, Ms. Diallo, I’m checking to make sure you’re okay. I was doing my normal rounds and thought I heard a scream.”
Howard didn’t appear all that surprised by their display. Dana took a quick glance back and, luckily, at the angle she and Neal were in, it was possible Howard hadn’t noticed Neal under her, yet. Neal’s body lay flat; her body and the shirt that covered his head, gave Neal the right amount of concealment to keep him hidden in plain sight.
Howard gave her a strange look.
“Ms. Diallo, what…what’re you doing?”
She sat in an elevated kneeling position, with her legs spread. One hand gripped the edge of her mattress, while the other fought to hold the shirt over Neal’s head. She didn't have complete control of her winded breathing either. How could she? Neal still had his tongue buried inside of her.
She said the first thing that came to her mind.
“I’m okay. I wasn’t screaming. I was meditating and simply trying to relax my mind.”
She was sure Howard didn't believe her ridiculous lie. He wrinkled his face in confusion, oblivious to what was actually happening. He truly had not noticed Neal. Neal must have figured as much because he hadn't moved an inch. She glanced back once more. Her tousled bedding and numerous pillows helped to conceal Neal.
Howard inclined his head. “Well you have a good night, Ms. Diallo.”
The creases of his face gave away his attempt to figure out her actions. She flashed a smile, continuing to hold the odd position she was in.
“Howard, will you do me a favor before you go?”
“Sure.”
She maintained her awkward smile.
“Will you lock my door for me?”
He turned his body further into the room, not paying much attention to her. He reached around and twisted her lock from the inside. He seemed afraid to look in her direction now.
Inches away from shutting her door, he stopped. His expression indicated he had one last thing to say.
“Ma'am, may I suggest something? May I speak frankly?”
“Yes, Howard. Sure.”
“Ma'am you should start dating, because looking the way you look, you could make a man really happy. A woman as beautiful as you shouldn't be trying to please herself.”
She nodded.
“Okay. That's good advice, Howard.”
He inclined his head once like his statement had made a profound impact on her life.
Once Howard closed the door, Dana let out a raged breath, only to have Neal steal it away. Once he knew the coast was clear, Neal continued where he’d left off, sending instant pleasure into her.
It hadn't taken but a few intoxicating flicks of his tongue to make her forget the predicament they had just been caught in.
Chapter 19
Suit Up
As much as Dana wanted to stay snuggled up to Neal, she had work to do. The need to check out Drago's lead called, and she didn't want to drag Neal into her world of madness again. It's why she was sneaking away from him at one in the morning.
They had managed to use seven of the twelve condoms in less than a 24-hour period. She never expected that Neal would go along with her crazy request to use all twelve, but she loved that he was willing to accept the challenge. Early on, she'd gotten the impression that he wasn't one to give up on anything, easily. He'd not only given her the best sex of her life, but he'd managed to do it, repeatedly.
It was time to set aside her fantasies and suit up. She put on the sleek new black catsuit her agency, Top, issued to her. It was made from some new bulletproof material, had built-in night vision, and a few other features that would come in handy.
The long sleeves were fitted with a thin metal ring that could be used for striking an adversary. The suit was also flame-retardant, shock absorbing, and had built-in chest and back protection strong enough to stand up to a close-range shotgun blast.
She added her own special design to the suit—a slot to strap on her favorite knife, or machete, as some might call it. It had a serrated hitch close to the tip that sliced jaggedly into flesh, and necks, when her goal was to chop off a head or a leg or an arm.
The suit was like an apparel version of an armored car. It had been cut to fit her body perfectly. She snapped her black blade into place, along her hip, and secured her .45 and three extra clips. Wig in place, weapons in place, she was ready to take on whatever monster that decided to test her.
****
The handheld grappling hook device she possessed resembled one of Batman’s or Spiderman's toys. The full item was an extension of her suit. The sleeve wrapped around her shoulder and upper back for lifting support. The only exposed part was the portion of the device she controlled with her hand.
According to Drago, she needed to get up to the eleventh floor of the Harrington Building. Sevyn aimed the instrument that had a five-story reach. Once the finger-sized hook was embedded into the concrete side of the building, Sevyn tugged the tiny metal cable that would be holding her weight. She tested its strength, amazed that something so thin was so strong. The tensile strength of the metal must have been off the charts.
Whoever built their spy toys was a genius. By squeezing the small metal portion of the device attached to the palm of her hand, she could activate, aim and shoot the cable, and retract it. She became airborne in an instant and found that loosening her grip slowed the speed at which she traveled up.
Once Sevyn reached the fifth floor, and was more confident using the device, she aimed it five more stories high. Before taking off, she observed the outer perimeter of the building, noticing that the eleventh floor seemed the only one that had movement; it was the reason she decided to enter the building at a lower level.
Drago hadn’t furnished her additional information about this building, but she didn’t plan to leave until she'd found something substantial. If there were no monsters here, she’d at least snoop around until she found information on the monster she most wanted—Linkin.
The closer she rose to the tenth floor, the more frenzied her urge to kill grew. There were certainly monsters here. Her urge had never grown this strong unless they were around to trigger it. After unhooking her device, she retracted it but kept the part attached to her hand ready. She was swift, not crazy. If forced to make a fast getaway, the bad guys probably wouldn't expect her to jump from a tenth floor window or balcony.
On this particular balcony, however, she noticed lion statues. They sat there
as if guarding the place. She glanced up, noticing not all of the balconies had the protective statues. She wondered what they represented.
Everything was deadly silent; even as the wind swept past her ear, it whispered softly. The only movement was the clouds, as they revealed the fullness of the moon, peaking at her like a giant eye in the sky.
Of course the door would be locked; but thanks to Top, she had a fix for getting into the building quietly. The small cutting device was no bigger than a cigarette lighter and it cut through the glass like butter.
Sevyn cut a small square in the bottom of the glass wall next to the sliding glass door. The opening resembled a doggy door. She made the cut behind a curtain, which would not only conceal her entry, but would make for a fast, well-hidden getaway, if she had to run.
She sat the glass square away from her passageway and slid into the room. Now she understood the statues on the balcony. She was inside someone's apartment. In the dim lighting, she easily recognized leather sofas and chairs, crystal vases, and handcrafted art pieces. Italian-styled furnishings lined the place with linear precision.
Sevyn snooped a bit, but didn't find anything substantial before exiting the apartment. The sharp contrast between the dimness of the apartment and the light in the hallway made her more aware of her surroundings. The hall was clear, so she made her way to the stairs.
Tiptoeing up the stairs, the closer she got to the next level, the more it gave her clues as to what was going on.
The muffled sound of music and laughter greeted before she opened the door. Thankfully, she had speed on her side as she prepared to navigate another long hallway.
Within seconds, she reached the double doors that led to the party taking place; but like everything around this place, the doors were locked. Thankfully, her new suit came with a tiny blowtorch. It didn't take her long to melt away the lock and inch the door open.
People were everywhere; so many in fact, they camouflaged the monsters. The monsters were in there because her blood boiled to kill them. The only way to tell monster from human was to get up close and personal. She couldn't alert the monsters to her presence, nor could she kill these crazy foolish humans, who likely didn't know they were a part of the menu.
Sevyn: Adult Paranormal Romance (BWWM Romance) (Supernatural Thriller) (The Smoke & Fire Series Book 4) Page 10
