Scented Dreams ((A Dogon-Hunters Series Novel))

by Turner Banks, Jacqueline

  “I do want food. Hand me my pants.”

  “Sheesh, I can pay for your breakfast, Ian. See you later.”

  He couldn’t go back to sleep—she’d really spooked him. He thought about all the alcohol he’d drunk the night before. Alcohol doesn’t usually effect Dogon-Hunters like it does humans, but he tended to metabolize it better than most of his brethren. He’d even been drunk once or twice before, and he’d never known another male Hunter to be able to get drunk and very few of the females—certainly not the bigger women. On those occasions, the same amount probably would have poisoned a human, but that didn’t concern him. He considered it a weakness in his physical makeup. Just as he considered his stimulus overload headaches an imperfection.

  Fox used to tease him when he was in South America. “It’s got to be one of two things,” he used to say. “Either this South American food doesn’t agree with you, or it’s time for you to settle down. Dogon-Hunters only get sick when they’re lonely or if it’s the food.”

  I should call Fox. It suddenly dawned on Ian that his “boss” hadn’t called him. He couldn’t remember Fox ever sending him somewhere and not checking in about it.

  He reached for his phone, and it rang when he touched it. “You’ve got to show me how you do that,” he said to the person he was sure was on the other end.

  “Do what?” Fox asked from the bed on the other side of the nightstand. He was stretched out like he’d been there all night.

  Ian tried not to react, but Fox saw the slight startle and laughed.

  Ian noticed that some of his long dreads were dyed red and blue. He was dressed in navy blue hospital scrubs. There was often no rhyme or reason to the clothes he wore. He was bare footed as he often was.

  “Fox, what are you? You do know that most of the Hunters think you’re a god, right?”

  “There’s only one God, Ian. Spend some time in a church!”

  “They call you a lower case god.”

  The Pale Fox laughed. Ian loved his laugh—it reminded him of a silly child.

  “Trust me, my friend, I’m not a lower case anything. I’ve got stuff to do; talk to me.”

  Ian sat up and wrapped the sheet around him. “I went to the bar you told me about. I met the Tracker who works there. . .”

  “What’s your impression of Kitty?”

  “I like her.”

  “You should see her in action. She is one kick ass little hellion.”

  “Trackers scare me enough when they’re not in action, so no thanks. Fox, there doesn’t seem to be a need for me here. Are you sure I’m needed?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. There are Sangsue here that must be eliminated.”

  “Come on, Fox, are you trying to tell me a kick ass Tracker can’t handle it?”

  “Trackers don’t hunt Sangsue, you know that. Just follow your normal course, and I’ll see you back in Sacramento on Sunday or Monday.”

  Ian opened his mouth, but he would have been talking to the empty bed.

  He spent too much time thinking and talking about the weirdness of the Pale Fox. He refused to waste another second considering him after the brief meeting.

  He had showered and was watching television when Nesta returned about an hour and a half after Fox disappeared.

  She came in and sat at the foot of his bed.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “No, it really wasn’t, but it was draining.” She opened the bag she was carrying, pulled out two large napkins, unfolded them, and put them in front of him. “This is your table,” she told him. He nodded. She pulled out an aluminum foil wrapped paper plate and began taking off the foil.

  “I can do that,” he said.

  “Let me. It makes it easier to talk about my strange breakfast if I keep my hands busy.”

  There was an omelet and three link sausages on it. She then unwrapped a smaller plate with a bagel complete with the cream cheese.

  “I left your coffee in my room.” She said this as she was standing to go get it.

  “Thank you,” he said when she returned and handed it to him.

  She really looked up at him for the first time since returning. “You’re welcome.”

  He wondered what she’d heard in his voice that made her stop and look at him that way, but he didn’t want to stop her flow by asking.

  “So tell me what happened.”

  She sighed. “My uncle is going to visit on Sunday, and they think he’s going to offer me a job.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I can’t talk about that; let’s just call it the family business.”

  He laughed. “Wow, there really is a black mafia?”

  She smiled. “It does sound like that, doesn’t it? I wish I could say more, but they swore me to secrecy.”

  “Is it dangerous work?”

  “I guess it can be, but I think they’re wrong about his reason for visiting. It just doesn’t make sense to me that he would have waited until I completed college to bring this up now.”

  “Well, you’ll know soon. If he offers you the job will you take it?”

  “I guess I have to.”

  “No, my dear, slavery has been outlawed. You don’t have to accept any job you don’t want to do.”

  “You can tell my parents that tonight when we have dinner with them.”

  He waited until he finished chewing before he answered. “You got me an invitation? Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me. They decided to spend the night. When I told them I couldn’t have dinner with them because I had to drive you to dinner, they invited themselves.”

  “It’ll be fine. Parents love me.”

  “You do know you can’t say or do anything to let them know we slept together.”

  “Technically we haven’t yet.”

  She froze and looked at him. “Yeah, I don’t think my father is going to be interested on a technical level. You spent the night in his baby’s bed—and for that you’ll have to die. Got it?”

  Ian nodded.

  “Oh yeah, that reminds me. I stopped at a drug store on the way back. I told them you needed some cough drops.” She took a box of twelve condoms out of her purse. She handed them to him and then reached in her purse again. He wondered how many condoms she thought he would need. The implication brought a big smile to his face.

  Her hand retrieved a box of cough drops. She tossed them to him too.

  “Does this mean I should cough around your parents?” he teased.

  “Maybe you’d better. Talk about law enforcement—my father acts like a cop when it comes to me.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s in sales management. My uncle owns a lot of businesses, and my daddy is in charge of the ones in this area.”

  He nodded. So her job would involve some kind of sales. He smiled thinking about how cute she sounded when she said “my daddy.” Most women her age would have said “my father.” He couldn’t blame any man for wanting to protect her, especially from the likes of him. I won’t hurt you, Nesta.

  “What are you thinking? You look so sad.”

  “I was just thinking about returning to Sacramento.”

  She stood, stuck her index fingers in both ears and begin singing “la-la-la-la,” very loudly.

  He laughed. “Okay, I won’t talk or think about it either.” And I won’t think about washing your memories of me either.

  He picked up the box and removed a condom. “Where are they now?”

  “My parents?”

  He nodded.

  “My mother is into antiques. She downloaded a list of shops in town. They should be gone for a few hours.” She grinned. “Hours, Ian, sixty minutes times two.”

  “Come here.”

  “I am here.”

  He flipped back the sheet, revealing his naked body. “No, I’ll come there.”

  He jumped out of bed. In one step he was standing beside her. “Take off your clothes and join me in a dance.”

  “What?”


  “I enjoyed that dance with you last night. I want to do it again.”

  “And I have to be naked for it?”

  “It’s only fair.”

  She laughed. “Okay, I’ll do the nasty dance with you. Another first.” She started removing her clothes, and he helped. Then he used the television remote to find a music channel he’d seen earlier.

  “What is this music, Ian?”

  “1980s R&B. Is that a problem?”

  “No, I guess not. There was probably some good music out when we were toddlers.” She moved closer and held her arms open to him.

  “There’s probably some more recent music coming up, and there is a radio over there. Find something you like.”

  “Darling, we are standing naked in a motel room talking about music as if it's what's important here. Let’s get this party started. I’ve found something I like!”

  He didn’t know if he should be scandalized or amused. He’d never met a human woman with so much spunk one minute and innocence the next. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of seductress would emerge in her thirties. He envied the man who would learn that answer first hand.

  “You did it again, didn’t you?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “You thought about the end while we’re still here in the middle.”

  “You’re right. I’ll try not to do that again.” He pulled her into his arms and rubbed his cheek against her long, graceful neck. “It’s just so difficult to think about leaving you.”

  “That’s why you need to stop those thoughts, Skippy.”

  He held her closely as they moved to the music. “Why do you call me Skippy?”

  “Because you’re such a suit—the opposite of Skippy.”

  He chuckled. “I guess that makes sense to somebody, but not me.”

  “Right, because you’re a suit, Skippy.”

  “Just dance.”

  Of course she stopped moving immediately. “Suppose I don’t want to dance—suppose I want to stop and do this.” She grinded her pelvis into his groin in a move he wouldn’t have thought possible. Her body actually lifted his a little. Another move like that might have caused him to enter her.

  “I think you’ve got some pole time you haven’t told me about.”

  She laughed. “You’re so funny. I really like you, Mr. Ian Camera.”

  “And I you, Miz Nesta Avery.”

  He thought about the words after he’d said them. He did really like the young human, more than should have been possible in such a short time. What will become of this? he asked himself again. He knew the Pale Fox would transfer him if he asked and Fox was in a mood to do so, but then what?

  The Service had recently lost a Sacramento Hunter to a union with a human. Union? Calm down, Ian, who said anything about a union?

  “Why do you keep stopping like that? Are your thoughts haunting you?” she asked.

  “Are you a mind reader?”

  She laughed. “No, quite the opposite. My friends usually accuse me of being clueless, but in your case I feel like I can hear you talking to me mentally. I hope that doesn’t freak you out.”

  He stopped dancing again. “I’ve got to be honest, it kind of does.”

  Chapter Eight

  The song ended, but he continued to hold her. They swayed to the music memory in an embrace that she thought should have felt obscene, but she found instead that it felt incredibly tender.

  She pulled away and looked up at him. “Will you make love to me now?”

  “What man would answer no to that?” He lifted her and carried her back to his bed.

  From the bed she smiled and answered, “You’d be surprised.”

  He backed up to look at her in all her loveliness against the white sheets.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Memorizing you.”

  His words sent a wave of passion through her body. “Come back to bed, you’re making me self-conscious.”

  “You should be self-conscious. You should always be conscious of how beautiful you are and how wonderful you are.” He leaned down and kissed her. His tongue parted her lips. As he had danced with her body, his tongue danced with hers. It was the best kiss she’d ever had.

  “Umm,” she moaned. “It would seem a man would have had to live longer than you to kiss like that.”

  “Kissed many old guys, have you?”

  Before she could answer, he again sought her mouth. Her taste was fresh and minty, and he wondered if she’d eaten a mint in anticipation of his kisses. He ran his hands through her curls and felt them return to their springy, bouncy origin. He massaged down her neck and shoulders and cupped her breast. Her breasts were full, but still too young to sag from their weight. Her nipples were long and hard. He rubbed the right one with his thumb, and she moaned.

  Both nipples were so hard from their dance, they hurt.

  He took her nipple in his mouth, and a chill ran through her. He gently sucked, then nibbled, then sucked again. She grabbed a handful of his hair, which was still loose, and held on for dear life as wave after wave of pure pleasure invaded her body. She rocked with the sensations.

  Nesta reached down and cupped his sac. She ran the tips of her fingers through his tight and short pubic curls, and he moaned. She felt him shift and knew he was reaching for the condom he’d set aside.

  “Let me put it on?” she asked.

  He handed the packet to her. She opened it and held one in her hand for the first time.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked. His voice was so deep and his accent so thick at that moment that she stopped and kissed him again.

  “That was nice, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

  “If you’re asking me have I put one on before, then the answer is no. But I did see the video in health class where the guy puts one on a broom handle.”

  He held her tight as he rolled in laughter. She made him feel young again, and it was a feeling he hadn’t known he’d been missing.

  “You have to hold still,” she told him.

  “I’ll do better than that,” he said, grasping himself. “I’ll steady the target for you.”

  She wondered if she should tell him that, even though she’d had sex before, this was the first time she’d really gotten a good look at a penis.

  How is that possible? he wondered. “Am I that different from your past partner?”

  How should I know? It was dark and quick. She rubbed his hardness with the back of her other hand. “The skin is so soft.”

  “He doesn’t get a lot of sun.”

  “Are you making fun of me, Ian?”

  “Never. All I ever want to make with you is sweet love.”

  He saw that she was attempting to unroll the condom. “Put it on first and then unroll it.”

  “I knew that!”

  “I know you did,” he said, laughing.

  She carefully rolled it down. “There’s no way this is going to fit.” But it fit the broom; but then again, the broom was skinny. He's thick as my forearm. She looked at his eyes, and the random thoughts stopped. I am so out of my league. She gently unrolled the condom. “It fit!”

  He struggled to speak through the tremors inspired by her touch. If this innocence is an act, it’s working, he told himself. It was the first time since he was a teen that he questioned whether he could maintain enough control to enter his partner. “If you don’t hurry up and get up here, little girl, that might not be an issue.”

  She slowly lowered herself onto him. “Oh, that’s nice,” she said, as if she’d just tried on a garment in a dressing room. She jiggled, really enjoying the fit.

  He moaned before he said, “Nesta, you’re killing me.” He closed his eyes and thrust his hips up to meet her. Nesta pushed back against him, and they repeated the move again and again. She moaned and, to him, it sounded like pain. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m good, keep moving.”

  “Yes, you are.”

&n
bsp; They fell into a natural rhythm that shouldn’t have existed between the first timers. When her pace became frantic, he opened his eyes and watched her face as she approached her orgasm.