by L. A. Banks
There was no fear; he was a sculpted work of art that brought nothing but pure Eros. She could see him in the dark, his strength staggering. It was reflex, she bit him as hard as she could once more, and that seemed to make him more aggressive. His jaw collided with hers to forcefully knock her head back, and he took her throat again, then came hard in blinding spasms that he sent into her jugular with the same intensity being unleashed between her legs. His siphon from her throat synchronized with driving rhythm of his hips. She felt herself losing consciousness. He tried to pull out of the bite, but she flattened her palms to his back, and he practically wept at the physical command for him not to stop. She didn't care if she died tonight, as long as she went out like this.
Never in his life… never… What had she done to him… Every shudder, every whimper, every moan riddled his system with sensation after sensation of wondrous release. He felt her multiple orgasms at the cellular level, and as he siphoned the sweet, salty fluid from her jugular, her body siphoned seed from him in equal measure.
Adrenaline, passion, unbridled lust, small doses of her fear filled his mouth, his throat, sweet heat coating his insides, drugging him, becoming an erotic hallucinogen of exploding, exponential groin torture. It took him to near blackout, sent needles of pleasure through every inch of his skin. He pulled out of the bite and cried out just to keep from flat-lining her. Never before… life from her veins… never could he have imagined… the myths the other masters had tried to tell him, but he couldn't comprehend such ecstasy… and that she loved every minute of it was killing him.
Thick saliva, blood, tears became one inside his mouth, consciousness ebbed and flowed as each hard thrust contracted his body with a violent arch followed by another shuddering release from his groin. The combination hurt so good it made him sob. His mind was putty. Control, what was that? She had to stop arching, let him pull out to save his sanity. Woman, I can't stand it… Seconds prolonged on a wail transformed into persistent need—he had no choice, had to keep moving inside her, repeating the unbroken rhythm, repeating the bite, taking more of her than he should while giving her all that he had.
His voice was a muffled plea against her neck. "Baby, forgive me… I can't stop." Didn't she hear him? He'd hollered he couldn't stand it, told her as loud as he could in his mind that he was nearly insane it felt so good, but stop—impossible. Blood was running down his chin. She should have never taken him there, never opened that channel, dredged his mind, soldered him to her body… mentally gave him the scent to her ripened. Never. Shouldn't have made him taste it undiluted on her sweat-slicked skin, in her mouth, riddling her hair, while taking his seed. Oh, shit, she shouldn't have denied him for years, then made him battle for her—not smelling like this in a priest's house.
She was dying in his arms, but he couldn't stop moving against her. Gasping for breath, he, too, was dying from sheer pleasure. His eyes were shut tight, her name had become an agonized chant comingled with a moan on each deep invasion against her womb, sweat and tears ran together and mixed on the bridge of his nose, dripping hot on her face, the sheets, her fingers tangled in his soaked hair, opening his scalp to the coolness of the room till he shivered. Oh, goddamn, don't stop…
Her body would not relent. Her hips moved against him like liquid fire, scorching his barren skin that had waited for her for so long. And she smelled so damned good, adrenaline competing with natural female, working shea butter, almond oils, blood, and something just her.
Without mercy she continued to invade his mind, echoed back a call and response that made him lose control, he was clay in her hands, whatever she wanted from him was hers. Never in his life, not even in death, had he so completely surrendered in a woman's arms. Shit… yeah, he'd come to her whenever she called. Yeah, baby, would cross prayer lines and risk a hollow point bullet for this—just call. Sweet seduction thy name is Damali. Her first time, correction, it was his. Baby, take everything I've got—name it. I don't care! It's all yours.
He was babbling in his mind, yelling, Yes, hollering that shit and thinking it all at the same time. Had she any idea what Neteru did to a man, what she did to him? Turned out, done righteous, and he couldn't even catch his breath he was broke down sobbing so hard. If he had only known it could be like this…
She pet his trembling shoulders as he tried to push himself up to look at what had overtaken him, this creature, this huntress, who had just stripped his cool to the bone—blown his mind.
But he couldn't remove himself from the tight, rhythmic hold her body had on his. As long as he stayed in her, the shared sensations ricocheted between them with each one of her hard contractions. He had to pull out but couldn't; she had him drooling on himself, blind. He heard his mind beg her to stop, it was so damned good, and as he gathered the strength to look down at her, he saw multiple puncture wounds in her neck, blood oozing from them. She wasn't breathing. Her hands fell away from his hair. His vision blurred as another shudder passed through him and finally bled his scrotum dry.
"Damali!" He tightened his hold on her. Her eyes were open and she wasn't breathing. Panic ripped through him. Reality kicked his ass, brought him down hard. His breath caught in his throat. No, Por Dios, not like this! He gathered up her limp body and rocked her against him, still in her. What had he done…
A sudden gasp, then a huge exhale of air escaped her mouth. The sensation passed through him like a ghost. Tears streamed down his face as she clutched his shoulders and inhaled again hard.
He was beyond words. A sob shattered him as he touched her hair, expecting her to pull away. "Baby, I—"
She reached for his cheek and shook her head, then laughed. He just weakly stared at her.
"Daaaayuuum…" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Carlos, I had no idea." Her hand went to her neck, and her fingers came away with a few drops of blood.
Shame constricted the muscles around his lungs. He hadn't even sealed the wounds when he pulled out—his shit was raggedy, unprofessional, wasn't even smooth, but damn it was good. "Baby… I… couldn't help it… oh, shit…"
She licked her fingers and raised one eyebrow. "I'm a couple of pints low. Dang."
When she chuckled again, he finally laughed, but it wasn't funny. "You need to stop," he argued. "I tried to explain… but. Girl, for real. Now, look. This bullshit is dangerous."
It almost hurt to pull out of her, she felt so exquisite. But they'd just danced on the edge of disaster, and he couldn't have her go out like this. He stood with effort, then scooped her up and laid her on the bed. Yeah, he had to kill Nuit for this. In an odd way, he now better understood where the brother was coming from.
"If I had known it was your first time," she said in a lazy, sexy voice, stretching on the tangled sheets, "I would have been more gentle with you."
Carlos put his head in his hands and finally laughed, mostly in relief. She was definitely dangerous. What was he doing locked in a lair with a huntress? Girlfriend didn't need her Isis to slay him. He glanced around the plain room, remembering exactly where he was. "I need to get you back home." He dropped his hands and shook his head as he looked at her neck. "You sure you're protected?"
"Just like a man, all late and after the fact," she said with a sly grin, shaking her head. "Wouldn't have come over here, if I wasn't."
"Okay. Cool. It's all good," he said, beginning to pace, not sure why. "Uh, I gotta explain some of this to the monks—damn… in their spot. They might have heard us. See, this was raggedy. I don't generally roll like this, D… but my circumstances." He raked his fingers through his damp hair and wiped his mouth again with the back of his hand, smelling her sweet scent all over him. He closed his eyes. This woman was definitely a drug. "You gotta go home. It wasn't supposed to go down like this. I tore up your throat, baby… I've gotta seal the wounds or Marlene will freak. No, see, you gotta go home."
When she didn't answer him, he just stared at her for a moment. "Does it hurt? I'm really sorry… yeah, no, you've gotta go hom
e."
"You sure you're ready for me to go home?"
He opened his mouth and then closed it, not sure what to say. Hell no. But…
"Trust me, it didn't hurt," she said, her gaze intense. "I've never felt pleasure like that in my life." She brought her hand to cover her neck where he'd bitten her, not touching the surface of her skin, but allowing her palm to hover over the bites. "I could actually feel an org—"
"I'm in prison," he said fast. He didn't need her to remind him. "Got people I have to answer to."
"You need me to put on my dress and go get a few bags from the refrigerator? Figured you burned all that energy… and if we have to bar the door, you'll need it. Or, I could just go up there, show 'em my passion mark, tell the old boys to stand down. Explain that I'll be in your lair for a few. I'm over twenty-one and consenting. We're grown. If they see I'm all right, they'll chill." She allowed her smile to broaden and then she tilted her head and pouted. "C'mon, Carlos. I waited a long time to get with you. Tighten me up, one more time before I go home?"
She was insane. He loved her. He was the one that was crazy. "That's no passion mark. It's a real bite that might have killed you. Don't get it twisted. Another pint and—"
"Aw, relax. It was just a love bite." She allowed her voice to drop to a low, sexy timbre. "This was only a passion nick, es verdad."
Yeah, it was true, but that was not the point. This wasn't supposed to turn into a conjugal visit. He glanced around again, half waiting for the door to break open and a crossbow arrow to find his chest. "You're crazy, and I'm taking you home." She also needed to stop trying to seduce him with language.
"Why? Por que, mi tesoro?"
He looked at her hard. "Because you're turning me on. Stop." He couldn't help telling her, it was the truth.
"You sure you want me to stop, baby?" she murmured.
"No." His gaze traveled over her naked body, hovering at her petite breasts, the swell of her hips, and the way they tapered down into long, agile thighs. He looked back up at her intense eyes and the way open desire flickered in them, and for a second, he thought he saw a hint of gold. It did something to him, and he glanced at the steel door. "They'll behead me if I go upstairs, and trust me, I'm in no condition to square off with anybody right now." He lowered his gaze. "And, I broke my word to them."
"No you didn't," she murmured, coming to the edge of the bed. "I did."
He shook his head. Yeah, she was wild.
"I was the one who seduced you, remember? I never promised them I wouldn't deflower you."
"Girl, please," Carlos said, mildly outraged. "You did not seduce me—or deflower me."
"Really?" She issued a lopsided smile. "You went for broke, brother… just like I did. Tell the truth. You've never actually punctured a living throat vein, have you?"
He didn't answer her for a moment. Her directness was embarrassing, stung his pride—he'd always been the teacher; she'd always been the student. He was the damned master vampire, not her. Now everything was upside down, and it messed with his head. She had been his first, he had the real hunger now… and he was faced with going back to cold bags of blood. This was beyond dangerous.
"You made history though, baby." She winked at him.
He cocked his head in question.
"Bet none of the masters ever delivered a bite on a Neteru, the millennium Neteru, at that, and lived to tell about it. And I can guarantee you that they didn't make her sing four-part harmony in the process." She studied her nails, mischief playing around her mouth as she did so. "Hmmm… guess you're still da man. You got skillz." She patted the cot and her tone suddenly became serious. "Come back to bed and finish what you started, por favor. Like you told me, why make us suffer? I'm bitten now, you already broke the skin… so…"
For a moment he was speechless. She'd read his mind without using her gift; this thing that she'd just said, he knew came from old-fashioned female knowing. And it further endeared her to him that she would even care about his pride, would be so gentle with the most fragile part of any man—his ego. But he truly loved the way she'd put a grappling hook in his libido just by the tone of her voice and her devastating stare. Shit. How was he gonna say no to that?
They both knew they were in trouble—she'd get her ass kicked out of the compound, he'd get a stake in his heart. Whateva. The night was young, and she was so damned fine. It was worth the risk, down to the last shiver. Let the chips fall where they may. If they were gonna exterminate him, this was definitely the way to go out.
He walked toward the bed, knowing that was the wrong thing to do. She chuckled, leaned up, and willed him to bend toward her so she could kiss his cheek, and made him laugh. He relaxed and sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking of how long it had been since he'd truly laughed, truly felt joy. She looked so satisfied, so sexy, so positively tempting as she laid back and sprawled out before him in a generous offering so that his body stirred at the sight of her.
"I should take you home before history repeats itself." He sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck, and gave her a sideline glance. "I've already tasted you now, if we go there again, I'll definitely bite you harder. Truth be told, I'm all fucked up, right through here at the moment."
He let his breath out slowly, trying not to let her see him begin to breathe hard again. Oh, man, this woman had almost made him hit the vanishing point by himself. If she kept messing with him, he'd turn her tonight, just so she could go there with him. They had to stop.
"Can you actually turn into mist… or anything else?"
He looked at the sly expression on her face and tried to ward off the shudder the question produced. She had no idea what he could do to her. "Don't even go there," he said, his voice low and husky. "If I shape-shift on you, by tomorrow night you'll drop fangs."
She got on her knees and leaned against his chest. "Teach me everything you know," she whispered, her voice like raw silk.
"Can't do that in one night," he murmured with a smile, his finger tracing her cheek. Sheeit… he had centuries of knowledge at his disposal. She needed to stop playing with this.
"Then I'll take my lessons in nightly installments." Her gaze raked down his body and lingered where it shouldn't have if they were going to leave. "Why don't we start with what you'd really want me to do to you right now?" She kissed his chest, then nipped his stomach and looked up, eyes smoldering. "Talk me through it, just how you like it—so next time I'll know."
She rubbed her cheek against his lower belly, dragging it up his torso, and slowly pulled one of his nipples into her mouth then bit down gently, grazing it with her teeth before she suckled it hard. "Like that? Right there… or lower?" His grip tightened on her shoulders. "Lower?" Her hand slid down his shaft and caressed him in a slow, pumping motion.
She nipped his belly, and darted her tongue into his navel, making him gasp, then looked up at him. "You don't want me to go home, do you?" Her voice was a throaty whisper, as he shook his head no. "Want me to stay to kiss it and make it better?"
He nodded yes, unable to speak for a moment, as her mouth became a wet, hot pulsing sheath around him. His breathing instantly synched up to her rhythm—that's when he knew he was done. She won. Against his better judgment his hand touched her hair and against his capacity to stop himself, his eyes slid shut. Damn she was a quick study. "You ain't fighting fair, D."
"Want me to go upstairs to get you a refill from the fridge?" she asked in a seductive voice, now on her knees on the bed, leaning against his stomach, her breath hot against it. "The night is young, and I figured we could maybe try plenty of stuff together… for the first time?"
Why was she taking him there? But he wasn't about to argue. Baby needed to stop talking and go back to what she'd been doing. "Okay…" His voice was on autopilot. The ceding of power was one word that came out fast on a hoarse breath. Fuck control. What was that around her, anyway?
"All right. Don't move; I'll be right back." She gathered up the rough cotton sheets
and swathed herself in them with a giggle.
The bolt on the door slid back. Instant reflex. Yeah, don't go home. Not yet. The night was young. He sat very still, not moving like she'd told him to, just breathing with his eyes closed, willing her to hurry back, por favor. Oh, shit, they were gonna smoke him for sure, if she didn't first.
"How many bags you want?"
"Bring down a case—I don't want to accidentally kill you."
"Uh, Father Patrick," Padre Lopez said, folding his arms against the chilly night air. "It's almost dawn, and uh, do you think we should check on our Neteru? See how the talks are going? She's been in there a long time."
The old seer shook his head. Asula and Lin joined him with a yawn.
"We can only hope that an agreement can be reached by dawn," Monk Lin said.
"I am going to have much to explain to guardian Marlene." Father Patrick sighed.
"I just heard the refrigerator open and close. That must be a good sign," Asula said gently. "He's still taking cold packs."
"She must be all right," Padre Lopez insisted. "If he attacked her, then we would have heard her cry out, si?"
"That's just it," the eldest cleric grumbled. "It was too quiet… means the lair was soundproofed." He held up his hand when Padre Lopez would have spoken. "Which means the talks are going well."
The young man let his breath out in reluctant relief and sat back down. "Then all is well?"
"Uhmmm-hmmm. And Marlene Stone is gonna kill me."
* * *
Chapter Nine
"Baby, please … no mas, por favor." Carlos dropped his head to his pillow, his lungs battling for air in the sex-sweetened, post-dawn atmosphere. "What time is it?" He groaned. "I have to get some sleep."
Damali laughed and glanced around the barren room that was still sealed shut. There were no windows, clocks, or anything that would give her a sense of time, and there were no mirrors so she could see how disheveled she knew she had to be.