by L. A. Banks
She peered out of the bathroom door and could see Carlos on the terrace. "Can I talk to you a minute?"
"Yeah, D, but hurry up," he said, sounding surly. "The other diplomats will be here soon."
When he didn't move and continued to give her his back, she went to him, too disgusted for words, and touched his shoulder. "I meant can I talk to you?" she repeated.
He still didn't turn around, just kept watching the surf. "Then put on some damned clothes, first."
"Ouch," she said and withdrew from him. She glanced around at nothing, tasting her mouth, cool with fresh mint. "What does a councilman's wife wear to a masters' hunt?"
"I don't know!" he bellowed, and strode into the suite, slamming the terrace doors closed behind him.
She was so sick and tired of his moods and him bossing her around that she could scream. But she tried to remember that his nerves were fried. The masters' hunt, plus everything else, was freaking him out… but like she wasn't on edge, too. Finding a calm place in her mind, she called him again. "Come here," she said gently, but her tone was firm.
Begrudgingly, he came to her and touched her cheek without looking at her, keeping his line of vision on the wall.
One—I haven't eaten human food or had any water in twenty-four hours, and I'm starved. I'm also afraid to drink out of their taps. Two—they can't see me eat in here. Three—I can't see my reflection, because there aren't any mirrors, so I need you to dress me. Four—I'm worried sick that you'll get hurt tonight. Five—if you do, then I'll be in a castle with four serious world masters and their wives. Six—I have to get to my team. Seven—
He snapped his fingers and dressed her, and then touched her face again. I cannot feed you in here; they'll pick up the scent if I bring you something from the human servants' kitchens. Even water poses a risk around old masters. The best I can do is play it off and say you have to go to meet your band to prepare, and I suggest you fill up while with them, then I'll have to figure out a way to get you a swig of blood under radar to chase it.
"Eeewww…"
He held the bond. At least rinse your mouth out with it, and dab a bit at your throat… then tell them that you ate at a good restaurant at the hotel. But this was what I was trying to tell you, D. I don't like variables. Neither one of us thought about the human food problem. That's why I was so against this—
"All right," she muttered, cutting him off. She didn't want to hear I told you so. "If that's the best you can do, cool." She couldn't focus on that right now and shifted her attention. She sent him a mental note about what she wanted to wear, then looked down at her clothes, and had to admit she was impressed. He'd put her in a pair of low-cut, fawn-suede, flair leg pants that laced up the front where a zipper might be, and a nice pair of Prada mules. Cool. She liked the pants, but they were gonna argue for sure about the top. That she had not asked him for. A tank top was what she'd ordered. She was not sashaying down there in a leather bustier, even though it did match the pants.
"I was gonna give you a silk top, but for the crowd we're meeting, this is better."
"Yeah, right," she muttered, hating the fact that he was probably right—but also knowing that he liked it just as much as the dignitaries would. "Makes me look hoochiefied, Carlos."
He laughed, and she was glad he did. It broke the tension, made his more suave control come to the fore, and he was definitely gonna need that down there.
"My makeup okay?"
He tilted his head to the side and shrugged. "What do I know? I'm just a guy."
"Come on, stop playing."
He chuckled harder and traced her face with one finger. "All right. I liked the look you had yesterday."
She could feel her shoulders drop two inches from relief.
"Bring both the Isis and the dagger," he said, creating a low-slung snakeskin holster for it around her hips by placing both of his hands on them.
"They'll let me bring it in the chopper?"
"I think McGuire would appreciate it… and oh, yeah, he told me to tell you he was honored that you liked his castle—do mention that I told you." You'll need the weapons in case one of the females attacks.
"All right, baby," she said, her eyes narrowed. But if one of those bitches rushes me, it's on.
Damali held Carlos's arm as they followed the butler to the wide deck off the dining room, her eyes scanning their surroundings as they passed through the elaborate rooms. A predator could be anywhere. As soon as the thought entered her mind, she could feel Carlos's bicep tense.
"G'evening," McGuire said, standing as the couple entered and the butler quietly slipped away.
"G'evening Master McGuire," Damali said after Carlos nodded, using her most courteous voice. He, too, was dressed in combat fatigues, matching black safari hat, and black shades. She glanced at his mate, Evelyn, her white silk Ellen Tracy pantsuit fluttering in the wind, and wondered how the female vamp still existed. But up in the chopper, she could be an asset. "Evelyn, good evening. Thank you for hosting us here. Our stay has been lovely."
Damali slipped out of Carlos's light hold and slid into the seat he held out for her.
"Good evening, Mistress Rivera," Evelyn said, but there was no threat in her tone as the female vampire moved closer to her. "I am so glad to have you grace our humble house."
Damali glanced at Carlos and then toward McGuire. This was not what she'd expected.
"Lady McGuire," Carlos said, taking her hand, kissing the back of it slowly, while looking up into her eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, then let her hand fall away. "Thank you for enduring any disruption to your household that our impromptu visit may have caused."
"The pleasure was all mine," she breathed, smiling at him, and then giving Damali a sidelong glance. "You must be starved." Evelyn motioned for the butler, and he immediately brought two large decanters and fresh goblets.
Damali held up a hand and begged off breakfast. "I will feast after the hunt," she said smoothly. "I like to stay… hungry when so much excitement perfumes the air." She smiled. "Makes the feed taste so much better. Besides, Carlos loves it so when I suffer waiting for him."
This seemed to appease the lady of the house, because Evelyn gave her a sly pout. "Ah, Councilman Rivera, she's delicious."
Damali looked at the master of the house out of the corner of her eye. An expression of utter appreciation spread across his face. There weren't many vamps who could control the hunger so well. But she had to give them the impression that she was so much more than an average vamp.
"You know," Evelyn finally murmured, easing in closer, "we ladies should get to know one another, since our husbands are getting along so well."
Carlos and McGuire were now deeply entrenched in talk about the upcoming hunt. She wished she had baby Isis in her hand.
"Yes, I agree," Damali said, pleasantly. Her mind worked on a strategy as she stared into Evelyn's gorgeous but deadly eyes. She could feel the vamp trying to siphon her for information. Okay, so if that's how she wanted to play. Offering Evelyn a bit of juicy insider gossip, Damali laid a trap to form an alliance, but to also let the female know that she could take her, if Evelyn tried her.
"You know," Damali said in a conspiratorial murmur, "Carlos made me after he was turned council level, and—"
"What?" Evelyn sat back in her chair, all conversation at the table stopped. Then she lowered her eyes and her voice became tense with fear. "Mistress… I didn't know. Please forgive my insolence."
Damali blinked twice, confused, but went with whatever had freaked out the female vamp. "It's nothing," she said as calmly as possible. Then she noticed the shocked expression on McGuire's face.
"And she says it's nothing?" Evelyn looked up and glanced at her husband. "Harold, why didn't you tell me he'd made her a female master?"
"Councilman," the Aussie master said, his eyes wide with amazement, "I thought you made her before you descended…"
Carlos shot Damali a glance that told her to stay calm. Play it
. Work it.
Damali reached over and smoothed the long, silky blond hair off Evelyn's shoulder. Just the touch alone seemed to stir her. "Darling, of course he did. It was mortal combat, we were both armed to the teeth, and I went down with my blade swinging. I'd nearly bled out." She paused, sensing the vamps' interest in the tale.
"But I'm no amateur," Damali said casually, leaning in close enough to Evelyn to nearly touch Evelyn's nose with hers, "and that's why from time to time I can project Neteru for my husband, or seem so close to human that it could confuse the unaware. I'm sorry that I upset you." Damali drew back, cast a loving glance at Carlos. "I will try to be more considerate, though. But bear with us, we're newly mated, and he so enjoys those memories of the night he turned me."
Evelyn had placed her hand over her heart.
"Mistress Rivera," she said her glance nervous as it flitted between her husband and Carlos back to Damali, "my deepest apologies for my behavior last night. I assure you it will never happen again."
"I will make up the offense my wife has caused," McGuire said, low in his throat. "She wouldn't be sitting here at breakfast, had I known how generous your husband truly is."
The Aussie stood and walked away from the table. Damali raised an eyebrow, and gave Carlos a provocative pout. "I know you fellas have much to discuss in order to strategize for the hunt. Why not let Evelyn and me have some time for girl-talk?"
Carlos gave her a slow nod. She could feel his tension as he stood and left the room.
"I am so sorry," Damali said, leaning in to whisper to Evelyn.
"Whatever for, Your Majesty?" Taken aback, Evelyn's eyes widened with surprise.
"Last night… I know Harold probably was a bit…"
"I should give you my throat," she said, laughing. "It's been quite some time since my Harold has been like that."
Okaaaay. "Well, then, there's no reason for us to have anything between us," Damali said. "Good."
Damali tried to keep from jumping out of her skin when Evelyn's hand gently slid up her forearm. The touch was so delicate, yet so sensual that for a moment all she could do was look down at it. It felt like cool silk had slid against her skin, and the sensation stirred every erogenous zone on her. She'd expected the touch to be cold or clammy—after all, the woman was dead. Was that what male vampires experienced at a female vamp's touch? she wondered. Valuable info.
There was a slight tremble in Evelyn's fingers as she moved them up to Damali's shoulder. Her lovely cat's eyes held a question; moonlight caught the barest hint of fang and made it glisten.
"You're so warm," Evelyn purred. "No wonder you drive him insane."
"Like I said," Damali whispered, trying to stay in character and not bug out, "there's no problem between you and me, now that we understand each other."
"Nothing has to be between us," Evelyn murmured. "Not even husbands."
Damali forced herself not to shrug off Evelyn's touch. Instead, she smiled. "Do you like him?" she asked, referring to Carlos.
Evelyn continued to caress Damali's shoulder. "He took an Isis in the chest for you?"
"Not completely," Damali said, shrugging casually to get Evelyn's hand off her. "My attack was off, he snatched the blade, but I still had my dagger, and when he pulled me to him, he got branded with it. Then he tore out my throat."
"How do you stand it?" Evelyn whispered, leaning in.
"I could allow you a night with him… now that we're friends."
Evelyn stared at her in disbelief, tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. "Mistress—"
"Damali."
"Damali," Evelyn murmured, close enough to Damali's face now to take her mouth. "What does pure Neteru do to him… any of them? I only experienced what the fragrance transforms them into. But an actual blood siphon would allow me to truly experience it."
It took everything in her not to knock the female vamp to the floor. She had to remember to play this like Carlos had told her. Mix a good lie in a whole lotta truth, but always get something out of the deal. "If you siphon me, as a female, it will have an adverse effect on you."
"Oh," Evelyn said, pouting and disappointed.
"But there is a way," Damali said, her voice cooing.
Evelyn perked up, her eyes searching Damali's. "Please, tell me."
"I want him to live through this hunt so he can show you," Damali said, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Only when he siphons me is he at his best. Unfortunately it drives us female vamps crazy—makes us want to fight. However, I could let him gorge and then send him to your room."
A sheen of perspiration dampened Evelyn's brow. "You would do that?"
"Or, I could stay and the three of us—"
"Please," Evelyn whispered, closing her eyes. "The hunt will be hours from now and the anticipation is already killing me."
"I just wanted you to know that I am truly sorry if I upset you earlier." Damali sat back and waited.
"It does make you want to rip out the female's throat," Evelyn admitted, finally opening her eyes to only half-mast. "But the residual effect is a wonderful high. There's nothing like pure adrenaline."
"Uhmmm-hmmm," Damali said, toying with the table linen.
"And when it hits the master's systems, they bulk to mortal-combat proportions, and will fight you on the way down. But the adrenaline hit that you both get on the double-plunge…"
Evelyn let out a slow, erotic hiss. "Say no more, please. Just tell me when."
"Perhaps after the concert." Damali held Evelyn's gaze. She needed an ally in the castle, and needed to be sure that at least one vamp couple would guarantee their safety through the blood sport going down tonight. Damali chose her words with care. "However, I'm concerned the other ladies might not understand… and Carlos and I rarely discuss such intimate details unless there's been a bond."
"The other ladies will not present a problem," Evelyn said, and reached out to caress Damali's face.
Okay, seal this shit like Carlos showed you, sister. Damali caught Evelyn's wrist and held it hard, then turned into it and planted a long kiss in the center of Evelyn's palm. "Ensure no ambush, and after I'm done with Harold, Carlos and I will come see you."
Evelyn shuddered hard. "I'll tear those bitches' eyes out if they offend my most honored guest."
Damali gave her an air kiss. "Thank you, darling. I'm so glad we had this little talk."
"The girls seem to be gettin' on," McGuire said, glancing over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Carlos said, a little anxious about what he'd just witnessed. Damali was awfully close up on Evelyn, and had taken the woman's wrist. Had Damali turned back, or what? And why did he have to find that shit so sexy?
Suddenly the sound of the choppers could be heard in the distance.
"Incoming," McGuire announced, his expression excited. "Let the games begin."
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
Damali didn't say a word as she stood by Carlos's side on the top step of the castle's grand entryway, Harold and Evelyn three steps below them, watching the entourages dismount from the choppers. It was a spectacular sight as they watched each master inspect the staff lines, not trusting the skills of the master that had walked the line before him. Paranoia was thick in the air. She was just beginning to understand the whole twisted culture of the vamp empire.
Everything meant something. Every conversation was about power shifts, even play was about the acquisition thereof, or to show prowess and ward off an attack. The way they ate, they way they spoke, the way they made and betrayed alliances, the way they had sex—made love was too nice a phrase, this shit was carnal. Primal, beneath the polished exterior.
One by one, she sized up the targets. The first to arrive had been the Chinese ambassador. He was slim, muscular, of moderate height, and wore a very understated navy blue suit, white shirt, silk tie, and dark shades and a large insignia ring on his left hand where a wedding band might have been. He looked like he had been in his late thirties when he
had turned, and he carried himself like the King of Siam. His gaze was mildly haughty but civil. His wife, however, was over the top. Damali had to give it to this female. She was all that.
Wrapped in a raw silk red sari trimmed in gold, she had a body like she could dance the seven veils and start a war. She had large, dark brown eyes set in her perfectly proportioned, beautiful face. Her jet-black hair hung in a long straight wash of silky onyx down her back all the way to her behind. Her skin looked like it had a faint hint of bronze beneath, and her cultured voice had an opalescent quality to it that practically shimmered as she spoke. She nodded before she bowed, her eyes seeming to hold a lethal secret. But her aloof air was like that of a pampered, arrogant, pedigreed catùbored, but watching everything. Damali could feel that she was old… real old. Okay, didn't want to sit next to that one in the chopper.
But when the Transylvanian couple appeared, Damali squeezed Carlos's arm. His carriage screamed old power and entitlement. Looking down his nose with a scowl, his dark gray eyes narrowed as he whipped off his shades, his military formal cutaway tux not showing one crease. His chest was affixed with medallions and crests that boasted a long lineage. He walked with broad shoulders back as he strode down the lines with an air of superiority.
His auburn hair was swept back from his forehead in waves that reached his shoulders and as he walked he shook his hair back, his Romanesque features making him look like a cross between Czar Nicolas and Timothy Dalton. His stride proclaimed him a thoroughbred, and the power that exuded from him almost broke the staff lines as he passed each one, said, "That will do," and moved on.
Then came his mate, perhaps. Damali wasn't sure if she was his first wife, or just a lair kitten he'd brought along. She was the most genteel-looking, fragile creature she'd ever seen. Her blond hair shone in the moonlight as she stepped beside him, her eyes were blue ice, her skin as white as porcelain, and her clothes simple elegance. Just a sheath of crŠme, a whisper in the night, that made her seem more like a ghost than a vampire.
When the African master exited his helicopter, Damali almost turned around and walked back into the castle. The master looked to be maybe forty-five, tall, blue-black handsome, six foot seven if an inch. She could feel Carlos bristle as she studied the chiseled features of the master's hard-set jaw, but his profile nearly made Damali's breath catch. Have mercy.