Retribution, Devotion

by Kai Leakes

  “Skip me with that extra drama, momma. Get to flapping ya gums and explain this shit because right now, you are at my mercy and I very much am enjoying fucking with you as you love to do me,” Calvin muttered while slowly standing. He moved away from her to circle his foe.

  Pulses of power projected from his aura and he stared down in constrained anger. “Talk.”

  The Medusa grimaced in anger. She stared him in his emerald irises, eyes she knew better then she knew herself suddenly. Eyes she remembered fighting for her life to keep her from becoming what she was, and hatred filled her heart again as she screamed in a blocked choke.

  “Where were you!” she screamed.

  Calvin frowned. The hell is she talking about? He glared down at the woman he knew as the Medusa. The way she pushed at him in anger then dropped her hands. The retraction of her nails had his eyes narrow.

  However, it was how the light in the church casted her in a silhouette under him that had clarity sucker-punching him in the gut, causing his hands to suddenly shake. He eased back giving her the space to speak her mind but he kept the rest of his weight on her to keep her in place. Her features seemed to soften before him.

  Eyes that typically burned a reptilian dark brown, almost black as soot, now began to glow with light, an ethereal radiance he was all too familiar with, since he also held a bit of that power whereas his cousin held the intensity of it, as did Eldress Neffer. However, crazy as it was for him right now, before him, the bitch he knew as the Medusa also carried that torch in her eyes and he almost fell backward.

  La baise est-ce! The fuck is this? his mind shouted.

  This chick could not be an oracle and still carry the power in her. No fucking way. But here she lay as she pushed up and lurched toward him. Her question blazed in his mind while he blocked hit after hit. Swing after swing. Abashment kept him from blowing her brains out while her body appeared to transform before him. The molasses-toned scales along her body seemed to slosh away. More human features stood out at him with each twist of her sensual body.

  The Medusa popped up in front of him.

  She projected her nails forward to stab him in his heart and stomach as she ducked from his swings. Her nails slashed at his shirt while he dogged her. He could suddenly hear her mind in his own screaming out. Where was he, when they found her again and killed her papa and momma? Where was he when the very people who were supposed to protect her from the enemy plucked her and handed her right to the Mad King? Where was he!

  “Where were you, Kwame!” the Medusa screeched in anger.

  Calvin was mind blown. Distracted by her questions he was rewarded by being slammed into a pillar. Reflex made him reach out to snatch the Medusa, flipping her over his shoulder to throw her through a wall. Crumbling mortar lay all around them in a cloud. The bright lights of the spiritual lines pulsated with its power around them.

  He couldn’t see through the fog, but ticked off that he was, he found himself yelling, “Hey! What did you call me, gal?”

  Nydia held a hand to her heart. She pushed forward to empty her stomach on the patch of grass around her. Flowers seemed to suddenly bloom as if awakening from a long sleep while that wretched light her attacker had washed them with saturated the land. She was going crazy. She knew she had to be.

  She had just called this man Kwame, the man from her dreams. His face, once clouded, now presented itself before her in blazing clarity and her mind ripped apart with unblocked knowledge. The tracking mechanism within her surged on. It caused her to gasp with the sensation of every single Nephilim within close proximity. Horror had her screaming while crawling to her knees then cradling her head. Her ability to track never worked like this.

  Her gift to find Nephilim she understood came from her light past. She knew some of it stayed intact when she was given the Bite but in order for her to use it, she always had to rely on the touch of Reina or a hit of her blood. When her mind or senses opened, it gave her the knowledge of where to find her prey. Even though it only resulted in a hazy vision of where the Nephilim lived or the area they lived with their scent. Then from there she was able to locate them anywhere. Now, it was different, now she could feel the life force of them all. She knew innately if she wanted to pinpoint just one, all she had to do was hone in on the heartbeat of one, and she would see them clearly as day. This was pure insanity.

  “No! No, no, no. What did you do to me? Huh? What in all that is hell did you do to me, son of a bitch!” Nydia shrieked. Her anger had her pushing up to propel poison blades at Calvin. She observed him evading each blade as his jade eyes wavered in plain perplexity. This was a torture worse than anything she had ever experienced at the hands of her kind. A supreme cruelty only her kind were known for and she couldn’t help but be impressed.

  “I hit you with Mystic power, shawty, you know that. You were supposed to be dead and . . . and now you sit here in front of me a different person, calling me a name no one knew except one person.” Calvin paced before her, seemingly just as affected as she was. “And you are asking me what the fuck I did? You must think I’m crazy, wodie.”

  Something in the tone of his voice pissed her off to no end. It made her lunge at him again just because fighting him seemed to make her aware that her body was no longer in pain. Each punch she threw did not reverberate back in blinding, yet pleasurable, pain. No, this time, she fought in harmony and bliss. Pain free, tears fell again; this time they were of relief.

  Which caused her to lash out: “You violated me! Y . . . you did! You used your repulsive white light and . . . and you tainted me! Bastard!”

  Calvin stepped to the side and hooked his arm around the Medusa’s waist. Her spinal protrusions, sharply pressed to his body, made him quickly flip her to pin her against a pillar. Water from the nearby fountain glowed with renewed life. She struggled the moment she saw him lean to the side, cupping his hands to gather some. Water sharply splashed over her. He callously poured the contents over her face then wiped her face clean with his large palm.

  All the while, the Medusa hissed and fixed her mouth to spit on him.

  “Whoa’na, chill all the way out. I’m doing what I’m trained to do, shawty, and you keep igging me. Clearly, some other spell has been linked into your DNA, it has been triggered, so tell me why, and how you know that name. A’ight? Then we figure this shit out because, one, you stand on holy ground. Two, I just washed you with holy water and nothing has happened. And three, I’m feeling really generous tonight so I will not haul off and blow your brains out as we stand.” With a flash of his dimpled smile, Calvin yet again tapped her temple with his gun.

  Nydia hissed at the bastard who held her pinned down. Her eyes darkened and she twisted her body against him. He was Kwame. The man from Africa, from Ghana, her warrior prince who battled until he was taken down in front of her and she was snatched away in front him. He was Calvin, the Mystic Slayer who kept her intrigued and made her body heady for his closeness and, now, made her once-dead heart beat and pump with life. Oh, God, he smells good, flickered in her mind. Once again trying to formulate the words to tell him what he asked, the hardness from his body made her kitty yearn. Made her own body feel foreign as if she now was one of the many flowers awakening in bloom and she felt sickened then elated.

  “I know your name from your team’s loud, filthy mouths. They are so very chatty,” she spat out, trying to remain in control.

  Calvin’s hand quickly gripped her throat. He growled dangerously low while leaning in close against her ear. “Thought I wasn’t crazy. You are fucking playing games with me, time for you to die.”

  Fear jettisoned within her causing her to croak out, “Wait! Please, you are Kwame and in your first life, you were born in Ghana. You were fighting to protect me and we both were taken down from the Cursed! That’s all I know, my mind confuses me right now.”

  Calvin’s mouth dropped open in blatant confusion. She saw him step back. He let her go, but his warrior instinct blazed in the m
assive build of his body, which resulted in her staring down the barrel of his gun again.

  “Say the Lord’s Prayer, then the Arch’s code,” he commanded.

  This bastard, almost slipped from her lips. She glanced at the man she wanted to taste more than fight until he fell at her feet, in disbelief. She couldn’t believe him. How would she even be able to go there? Was he insane? Damn two screws short of a basket case? As her mind ticked off like a checklist full of rants and insults, Nydia suddenly pulsed with knowledge. Her heart blazed, causing fear to burn in her throat while she spoke out what he asked.

  She shouldn’t know these things. Her kind was not able to quote those verses and here she was on holy land with the words pouring from her lips as her soul blazed. Her soul. She felt that metaphysical piece of her that she had believed was gone slap her with understanding and peace. Her cinnamon eyes glowed golden then she stepped forward.

  This man was hers. She knew she had to make him understand that. Therefore, she repeated what he asked and she spoke in the words of the Firsts. Then to prove herself again, she stripped off her top and weapons. Each item fell while she walked forward, standing before him in need. She watched his hand quiver in disorientation, and then she saw her opportunity.

  Jetting forward, she pushed into his blind spot to disarm him. Swiftly, she forced him backward making him fall onto the ground to straddle him. Her lips pressed to his angry ones. She melded her body against his. Then she whispered into his aura as he grunted trying to fight her off. His body bucked under her as if she were riding a bull. The feel of his slamming and sudden need gave her exactly what she wanted at the moment, especially the moment he gripped her ass, easily ripping off the barbwire that held her pants together in the process.

  Pleasure sparked between the pair as their auras collided and blazed like an atomic bomb. Anger, fury, and confusion seemed to fuel them both.

  Calvin palmed her plush rear, separating, kneading her until her wetness drenched his shirt. Her unique sweet scent knocked his head back. The pinching protrusions of her back melted into her skin. The flickers of his Mystic currents coating her slick skin to leave her with a smooth curve of her non-scaled back. He needed to be inside her now. All instinct whispered, mine, though it sickened him to the core. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her soft mouth made his soul say in authority, wife.

  The audacity of it all had him flipping her on her back while he felt her push at his jeans. His mind barked out, get away, but his body and soul moaned, mate. Soon all he could do was comply while her hand circled his hardening shaft pulling him out. He watched in conflicted disgust mixed with lust the moment his manhood sprung out then thickened in length and width in her hold. The way she touched him to stroke him had his eyes wanting to close in bliss as he felt his tip weep in need.

  Craving had him sliding down her body. Her skin became soft like silk. He encircled his tongue around her sweet cocoa nipples. Each bud saluted him in their taut erection and he pushed her leather bra to the side in greed. His soul name spilled from her lips. It hit him in his gut when that spark from her caused him to slip between her tender thighs and lap at a nectar so sweet, so sublime, so familiar to his dreams that he knew there was no return.

  Eden was between her thighs. He found himself lacing the tip of his tongue around her swelling bud. Damn, he was humbled at the way she moved her hips against him. Enthralled at the way she pleaded for his seduction. Calvin couldn’t help but comply with the use of his thickened his tongue, slipping between her silky petals. She tasted of caramel and sweet cream. Hits of his dreams played across his mind, slapping him and cracking open his third eye. He worked his mouth, pressed his glowing fingers against her at the feeling of her arching against him.

  Each long digit opened her wider while he played with the ribbons of her delicious yoni. Mystic currents spread into her, using his gift to hit her many erogenous zones. The loving feel of her hands ran over the waves of his scalp trigged his groan. Sensation of his side burning with each mental resonance had him savor her on his taste buds. Calvin could feel the rhythmic beating of drums playing around them, which made them both reach and grip for the other intently. Its drumming gave him the craving to go deeper in which he obliged. Sliding against her slick skin to lean up, glossy-eyed, Calvin pulled the Medusa unto his alter, filling her with his widening scepter. Woman had become his first hit of crack.

  His soul name filled the area around him and he heard the Medusa rapturously cry out. Her thick thighs sharply wrapped around his waist and her name ripped from his lips at the ecstasy, “Fatima!”

  He rode her hard, as unknown tears spilled down his face. His body radiated with his power and his nails scored down her back. More spinal protrusions sunk back within her flesh, along with her scales. This left her body smooth and left him looking down at a woman, who was an oracle and no longer his primary enemy.

  He watched her arch against the ground, her braids splayed out in a blanket under them. His hips sharply pumped upward, circling within her allowing her to slide up to his tip then slam back down to the hilt. The sensual sounds of their bodies mating played in sync with the song of the drums of Africa. As their sensual dance began, Calvin took a handful of her pooling breast to suckle then lapped around its smooth surface. Notes of their past unraveled as if in Braille.

  He had fought for her. Fought to save her when he was chained and shackled. Taken to a foreign land where he continued to look for her, constantly escaping his masters until he found a safe place to call his own. Even then, she haunted his dreams with her sweet melodic laughter and the many games they used to play.

  He remembered she loved to weave baskets and whenever she would visit, she had a new gift to present to his mother. He loved this woman. This woman was his soul and though he did take a wife eventually later in life this woman always stayed a part of him. After his second wife was murdered by the Cursed, he knew that he would never again take a woman. It wasn’t possible regardless of how many women had tried to get him to marry them. Not until he found his true wife, Fatima, and made her his again.

  Her incessant heady cries of pleasure brought Calvin back to reality at the feel of him emptying himself hard within her. He filled her with Mystic power and decades of locked away pain and desire within her womb. The abrupt release caused her body to lift in the air and glow with a power he was familiar seeing, the power of a gifted oracle. He was transfixed and didn’t know where to go from here.

  Nydia held the man from her dreams to her body as if he was the most precious thing in the world to her. A part of her screamed in anger at it all, but enjoyed the sex between them. Even as the awakened side to her gave praise to the lovemaking that just occurred, she found herself opening up for the first time ever and accepting a man’s seed within her body. This male was not just any man but a man who strangely whispered into her hallowed chest and made it call him her husband.

  The heated burn in her side distracted her for a second. It ached badly and it got worse as he lifted her with an erotic grunt then a hard thrust that made her smile and cum again. This man had filled her up in a way she never had before. She felt no empty dull inclination after sleeping with this man. No, this time she felt a pleasure that embedded itself within every molecule, fiber, vestibule of her body and baptized her in bliss. She felt full and she never wanted it . . . no, she never wanted him to stop.

  Calvin sat on his knees gripping the woman he had just been ready to kill. Their heated kiss turned into a sensual tango while she rested on his lap, her hands cupping his face. He wanted to say he loved this woman aloud, but reality hit him hard, causing him to push her off his lap in scrambled revulsion. His face contorted in fury, bewilderment, love, lust, and need.

  “Naw. Yo, we didn’t just smash. We did not just bump and grind!” he found himself saying astonished.

  Searching for his weapons, Calvin pulled up his pants trying to keep his distance. He watched the woman he knew as the Medusa sluggishly pu
sh up on her arms to glare at him over her delicate shoulder. Her mini-twisted micro braids spilled down her face, curtaining half of her features while tears shone in her eyes.

  “No, we didn’t just smash as you say! We just . . . damn it. I think we just made love. Something I never in my existence knew I was capable of doing, boy!” she brokenly stated.

  Resting her hands over her face, Calvin watched the change in her eyes the moment he stumbled backward. Sweat coated his deep mocha skin, trailing down the flat yet thick plains of his abs before disbelief had him falling to his knees in a groan. He didn’t feel good. His breathing was slowly becoming harder and everything was becoming dizzy. His massive hand, a hand that just only prior too had touched and stroked the Medusa’s body until she felt alive in a heat she could not explain, he heard her mind whisper, quickly found his gun in his and cocked it.

  “Don’t fucking ever call me boy, a’ight!” Calvin bellowed; his speech sputtered, wavering in and out as if in a daze.

  He felt the shock of his actions hit her in her gut inflicting pain before she quickly shifted to stand in front of him, gradually drop to his side in a low crouch. The familiar ticking sound within her throat despondently returned and she glared at him in hurt. The glint of hatred shifted and widened with sudden awareness. Shit, her poisoned nails, and razor adornments in her hair! he heard her shout in his mind.

  “Knew you were playing me, shawty.” Calvin gritted his teeth.

  He pushed his gun toward her. He knew this was too good to be true. He knew this had to be some elaborate test and he failed horribly. She had pumped him with venom while they screwed. He just knew she had. He had let her get into his mind and successfully take him down with her body. He was convinced she had planned this out. He still wasn’t sure how she was able to stand on holy land, but he for fucking sure knew something here wasn’t right and he wasn’t about to play this twisted game anymore.