The Hunted

by L. A. Banks

  “You hear yourself, man?” Shabazz stepped in near Rider. “You’re high. You ain’t making sense. Never in history has a guardian or a Covenant team gotten a mark of safety from the vampire nations.”

  “Never in history has a Neteru placed a call down to Hell, made the courier bats lose orbit in the Vampire Council’s supreme chamber, or sent bass-line at a concert down to disturb our transport systems.” His gaze was on Damali as he spoke to Shabazz, and he loved the fact that she’d smiled. “You walk a bad bass, brother. They heard it . . . just like they heard my baby wailing up here . . . messed the old boys up—slayed ’em. Just like she’s killing me, right now. I’ll bring her home before tomorrow morning. My word.”

  “Isn’t there a soul in here concerned about the fact that we’re dealing with an entity that is mirroring the most potent aspect of the Neteru defense system?” Marlene threw up her hands and began walking around the room. “Is it me, people?”

  “She can’t front Neteru,” Carlos argued, still focused on Damali. “If female vamps could do that, they’d all conjure it. Besides, even if I wasn’t hooked up with D, I wouldn’t roll with girlfriend. She’s got a freaky side, likes to live on the edge of danger—saw her hanging down in the badlands on level five in Hell . . . probably transformed into something and cast the illusion that she was in heat to keep ’em from killing her . . . mighta even done the unthinkable and got with a couple were-wolves or were-jags, who knows? The chick is nuts. That’s where the sulfur probably came from. But if council catches her ass doing black-blood exchanges, shit. That ain’t my problem. Her choice. If she did, though, and she’s in my zones, I’ll have to dust her myself.”

  He glanced at the men on the team. “Some shit is just unnatural, and at council level, a black-blood exchange with were-demons is a capital offense. Feel me?”

  “You met her down there?” Damali was twirling the end of a lock around her finger, and looking at the floor when she spoke.

  “Yeah. Wasn’t no thing,” Carlos said, moving closer to her. Damali’s quiet tone and the sad look in her eyes had stopped the other guardians from asking more, and he was glad it did. He didn’t want to talk to them; he wanted to talk to her. Privately. They needed to nip this argument in the bud, and squash it. But he knew he had to tell her something that would make her willing to go with him, and definitely needed to tell her people something so they wouldn’t talk her out of it. Complex.

  “Baby, I was checking out the levels,” he said calmly, trying to sound rational as he explained. “I was doing some undercover work, trying to see if there was any link between the deaths in the news, and anything down sub, but she pushed up on me on level five. I declined. Came here to be sure my baby was safe. She must have tracked me here and tried me in the crowd; I blew her off. End of story. That’s it. My boys can handle a vamp female, if she’s that stupid to go after a guardian team . . . and after I brushed her off, I don’t think she is. Only Neteru I got in my nose is you, baby.”

  “Oh, Lord have mercy,” Marlene sighed, plopping down on a bench in defeat. “Gentlemen, get your weapons. Hopefully that’s all it is . . . Carlos would know. He’s the only one that can truly detect actual Neteru presence—and if the man swears that this is just a general female vamp, we have to go with it. For now.” Marlene looked at him hard. “But if you are wrong, and you put Damali in harm’s way, a possible were-jaguar demon is the last thing you’ll have to worry about. In fact, the Vampire Council will have to send up a rescue-and-recovery team to find the body parts I will separate from you, understood, Carlos?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And if she’s not still angry at me,” Carlos said with a sheepish grin, “I’ll have Damali back at the hotel before it gets light.” He looked at Damali who had a wide grin on her face. “You mad at me?”

  She shook her head no.

  “You miss me?”

  She nodded. “You heard me all the way down there?”

  He nodded.

  “You miss me?”

  He smiled.

  Before she could say another word, he sent a burst of energy from within him. The air in the room swept lightweight objects into a tornado swirl, Damali was in his arms, and they were gone.

  She landed on her feet still pressed against Carlos’s chest. She stared at him, backed away a bit, and gaped at the environment. “You’re stronger. I can feel a different kind of energy running through you. It’s darker, Carlos . . . and I’m worried.”

  He nodded. “There’s a lot of stuff I can do now, baby, that’s gonna rock your world. You have no idea. I’m just coming into my own.”

  She glanced around the outrageously decadent villa he’d brought her to. The tone of his voice made her wary Things were fine before. She wasn’t sure she liked this new aspect of him.

  “How far away from the stadium are we?”

  This move, while romantic, was seriously disconcerting. He was definitely stronger, she kept repeating in her mind like a mantra. There was no safe house with prayer lines nearby. Her Isis blade was at the stadium. Things were going down in a foreign land, and she was separated from her team, her family. This man seemed a little close to the edge. He looked at her differently than he had before, way carnal. Way more passion in the vibration. Dark passion.

  “About eight miles away,” he murmured, “in the hillside of Jardim Botanico. Driving, it’s farther, because of the roads . . . but we’re not that far from the hotel the way I can get you there.”

  He stalked toward her, watched her back up, looking hunted. He loved it. She was playing with his mind. She had no idea. If she had been ripening on him, she would have gotten pregnant tonight. Period. There was no decision.

  “Uh, wow. Eight miles, huh? You couldn’t project four between the safe house cabin and the compound not so long ago. Then, you were able to manifest objects like a car, and transform rooms. Seems like each night, you get more and more power, especially after you go subterranean.” She was talking fast and walking around the room, glancing at furnishings, but not losing sight of his proximity to her. “This is so cool, beautiful breeze, the bed, the moon, candles, tile floors. This stuff looks permanent, not like the illusions you cast in the cleric’s place. Grates must come down at dawn, huh, to cover the deck and windows? Like the fireplace,” she said dodging to a fireplace poker. “Maybe we could start it?”

  He snapped. The fireplace lit. He didn’t say a word. She didn’t put down the poker.

  “Tell me about this chick.”

  He shook his head no. “I don’t want to even think about that right now.”

  His eyes flickered then went solid red, and she walked further out of his reach, holding the poker as she passed gorgeous marble furnishing with slate tables, wrought-iron chairs with sumptuous velvet seats, and hopped over the inland stream that ended in the far corner of the room into a waterfall and sunken Jacuzzi. She was not so much interested in this potential female vamp threat as she was monitoring the change going on with him. Carlos seemed darker, less himself, and definitely more dangerous.

  There were even more black spots in his mind that were sealed, old places she’d never been locked out of before. What was that about? And while she could actually feel his hands on her, sending excruciating pleasure through her, a part of her was on guard, yet she didn’t know why. Plus he’d lied to her by omission and had tried to block her second sight to what was going on here. Maybe it was the way his eyes hunted her? He’d looked at her like that before in the woods that night. Yet, this was different. It made her uncomfortable. There was something about it that made her know he might just go all the way on her and flip this time.

  “Are you hungry?” he murmured, his eyes half closed, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as she walked around the edges of the room. “You need dinner . . . something to drink?”

  She was gonna need all her strength tonight. No doubt. And if she lived till morning from what he was going to lay on her, then she’d definitely needed to eat . . . especial
ly when he woke up—hungry.

  She stalled. “Yeah. I’m starved.”

  He didn’t immediately answer her. “Yeah. So am I.” His voice was even. His tone lethal. His shaft was so hard it was sending spasms through his groin that she could feel across the room.

  “Then maybe you should make a run, you know. I mean, before, we had the monks, the refrigerators, everything was—”

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah. Everything was real cool.”

  He nodded. He tried to collect himself. This was Damali. He had to remember that. He loved her.

  “Before I go make a run, what do you feel like eating?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. They use a lot of red meat here—” She stopped midsentence. “It’s hard to get vegetarian stuff here, is what I’m saying.”

  “I know.” He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “Tell me the dish, and I’ll make it so.” Why was she baiting him?

  “Better yet,” she said fast, monitoring his intensity, “you go eat, and after you’re cool, I might have made up my mind.”

  “Good idea.” His statement was issued from his throat, and in a blink he was air and gone.

  Damali’s shoulders dropped two inches. Her hands were shaking. What was that shit? He’d looked at her like he’d turn her into a vamp—just outright flat-line her. She walked back and forth within the cliff lair. No way down, no way out, no roads for miles, only option was to try to climb a cliff at night in a red concert dress and heels? It was like an eagle’s nest! This was insane. She should have never called him to Brazil. She shouldn’t have called him here like that. There was too much stimulation. He was high . . . Oh Lord.

  She neared the edge of the bed. How long could they keep this mess going on, anyway? Vampires were renowned for their constant need for sex—seduction was their middle name. Plus, if he was getting stronger, pretty soon, docile deer in the States, or picking off a cow from a rancher from time to time was not going to work. The monks’ blood wasn’t working, obviously. Boss hadn’t even come with a supply, and was freelancing, in Rio?

  Seven years of this? What was she talking about, seven years? There was no guarantee that she’d make it, he’d make it, or what would happen after that. Homeboy might turn to dust, for all she knew. Not even the old Templar knew. This crap had never been done before.

  The entire inside of her skull was splitting. She finally sat down on the edge of the huge futon bed that had an indoor, pristine stream running around it. She gazed at it with both awe and profound grief. It was decadently set so that one could easily roll right off of the mat-tress into the turquoise pool that was as wide as the bed. If they wanted to, they could make love all the way toward the waterfall in the room, slip over that and land in a hot tub. She had to hand it to the vamps; when it came to pleasure, they went all out.

  Marlene had tried to warn her before she and Carlos ever took that first plunge. Their eyes glowed red because it was the primal center of the chakra system covering the reproductive organs . . . just like the gold tone ruled the stomach and gall center. Red for passion and anger, deep gold for hunger and indignation. Lighter gold as you moved up the torso. Green ruled the heart—either love or the green-eyed monsters, which were jealous-hearted creatures. The demon realms didn’t produce eye colors that went above the middle chakra, the heart chakra, where the spiritual side of the soul took over.

  Mar said it, said it, said it. She wished she had Madame Isis, and could see the jewels in the handle of her blade. Oh, man, Carlos hadn’t flickered gold tonight. Brother went pure red. She peered down at her dress—and she’d called him from the Vampire Council table, to Rio, of all freaking places in the world, in a red dress? Damali just shook her head. Got him to the point were he went there to get an escort? Didn’t trust himself around the Covenant that saved him. Had studied Shabazz and Big Mike for a minute in the locker room, al-ready having tasted their blood? Was she crazy?

  These creatures were truly organized, too. International transport? Borrowed lairs like freakin’ timeshares? Armed couriers? Probably stocked fridge—but Carlos didn’t want what was in it. Needed a hit of adrenaline. What was he going to do, stampede a herd of buffalo out there or something? Crazy Suddenly she wanted to cry.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MUCH BETTER than venison. Chasing down a herd and cornering a huge beast that fought hard to live was so much better than the deer begging him with their eyes not to attack before bolting. He loved the primal feel, the power behind his capability to shape-shift. Though he wouldn’t do it in front of Damali anymore, since it bugged her out.

  Damn, he hadn’t even gone all the way, and she’d freaked. That was cool. Some things she didn’t need to see. There were plenty of other pleasures he could expose her to that he hadn’t even draped on her yet, guaranteed to blow her mind. He chuckled just thinking about a few options. She’d liked that mist thing, though . . . touching everywhere at once, turning the entire surface of her skin into one aching erogenous zone, then materializing inside her on a hard thrust. She’d definitely liked that. He shook his head.

  Still, there was nothing like the big cats. A part of him could understand the female vamp’s proclivity for it, although hanging on level five was a little over the top. But that realm did have some fantastic shit to draw from. Yeah, he liked panther.

  Wolves were cool, too. He’d tried that shape once or twice. But he was more of a panther kind of guy. They rolled solo. But if her team ever came into such power as to be able to transform, he imagined Damali’s guardians more as wolf types, a group, a pack. Cool people. Hung tight as a strategic unit. He liked them, and respected that about them.

  But his baby was definitely all panther. Not because of the way she hung tight with family; that was not a panther trait. It was the way she moved that gave him a jungle-cat image of her . . . feline, agile. A huntress. No, not a panther, but rather a lioness. Fought with ferocity. Was loyal. Loved pleasure, could give it and take it all night. Regal. Yeah. A young queen. That’s what his Leo baby was. Golden colored. Sexy as hell . . . Damn, if she could bear fangs . . . He immediately banished the thought.

  It was dangerous to even go there, thinking of any of them as an extension of his vampire life. It had to be the environment, and the simple fact that he’d never turned a single soul into a vampire. Maybe one night? No. He was serving time and on a mission to reclaim his soul. That would not be forgiven. An affair, maybe they’d turn a blind eye . . . but if he jacked a human, all bets were off.

  Decisions, decisions, and forbidden knowledge dangling before him that was so tempting. He smiled, thinking of Eve. Had he been in the Garden, he mighta had to take a bite of apple, too. Wasn’t all her fault. Shit, if Adam couldn’t hang, what was the sister supposed to do? All she wanted was learn from a master, and the guy who came to teach her was the best in the business. Girlfriend got a bad rap.

  Carlos sighed and looked up at the full moon. Knowledge acquisition was in his nature as a vampire. What did they want from him? At the base of all power was extreme knowledge. At the core of every vampire was a hunger for power, which rivaled their thirst for blood, and their razor-sharp minds siphoned and absorbed new information like a sponge. That was what they were, as an entity—siphons, Carlos reasoned. Even their language, Dananu, meant “to be strong.” Its roots were in ancient Babylonian, the true first language of his kind—pure decadence, and it morphed and updated every time a new master was added to the lines, bringing knowledge to the collective body at council, which then drank it all in like fresh blood.

  To not know, through experience, what a double plunge felt like . . . or what pleasure a turn bite could explode within him, was torture. And he’d come to a dangerous place in a very dangerous frame of mind, loving the complexity of living on the edge, while also hating it—not good. But the polarities of his life drew a tension line through it that was highly erotic.

  Yeah, Brazil was dangerous because of her polarities. It was an ero
tic epicenter of tensions held in check by a fragile, taunt thread. Just like him. The very ground throbbed with a different type of energy. Sensual energy. Passionate battles. Rich, black earth. Crime, poverty, and wealth living in extremes side by side. Horrible pollution and factory encroachment. Wilderness still uninhabited—virgin. Like him in so many ways . . . unexplored regions in his own darkness. The Amazon running through it like a serpent . . . rain forests that provided a third of the world’s air supply.

  He breathed in the wondrous, unpolluted air, licked the remains of blood off his paw, flexed his claws, stopped, smelled the air again, and turned his head to the side.

  “Save me any?” a husky female voice purred, loping in his direction, her green-gold eyes glistening in the night.

  Carlos remained very, very still. She circled him, edging toward his kill. He snarled, she purred deeper. Her black coat glistened with moonlight shards of blue.

  “Mind if I have some of your leftovers . . . since, like you commanded, I’ll have to take sloppy seconds these days?” Her voice was low and sultry, inviting.

  His eyes narrowed, and he loped away from her. This bitch was in his head, blocking Damali. He could feel it as she was speaking to him. Probably why he’d been close to the edge earlier, too. No wonder D was acting so weird when they got to the lair. His baby was walking the perimeter of the room like he’d attack her or something. Perhaps she had sensed the presence of something trying to take hold of him, enter and bend his will to deliver a turn bite, but couldn’t place her finger on it—especially coming from him. Carlos snarled.

  “Couldn’t hang, could she?” the female said, edging closer to him than was advisable.

  He snarled again, swatted at the female vamp to back her up, then got a whiff of her and pinned her under all fours, his jaws over her throat, warning her. He could taste Neteru on the back of his tongue, along with a slight hint of sulfur that made him release his jaws. The combination was disorienting. Half of him tensed, ready for a were-demon taken down, the other side of him was ready to begin a full-fledged vamp-on-vamp seduction. Hard core. He let her go and just glared at her, but still kept her pinned beneath, deciding.