The Cursed

CHAPTER FOURTEEN



Meeting was definitely adjourned. Damali took his plate up from the table for him -  in front of the team? He just stared at her retreating form, the way everything just sorta moved in slow-motion beneath her clothes. She'd gone along with his plan - just like that?



No amendments. No drama. Just a clearly stated "What he said" ... Whew. Carlos thought he'd heard Big Mike mumbling something about him and 'Nez had the dishes. That meant him and 'Nez had the kitchen. True, on the surface it was an admirable volunteer move, given 'Nez had cooked, somebody else shoulda had the cleanup with Mike. But no doubt about it, Mike had made the first household claim on community space - message was simple: not here, tonight.



The table was now in the process of getting cleared faster than it had been set. Guardians had almost created what looked like a military sandbag line, passing off casseroles, stacks of silverware, and plates, getting soiled utensils into the sink, dishwasher, and refrigerator so they could move out. Then he watched Damali go MIA. The urge to track and hunt her through the mansion was almost making his hands shake, but he remembered he had to go outside and talk to Yonnie. Yeah, handle your business, first, he told himself, watching the sun kiss the horizon good-bye.



He set the last platter on a side counter by the door, washing the image out of his mind of Mike backing Inez up against the sink. He was out, motion, headed for the mountainside, silver barriers up - tonight was not a night he was trying to drag anything but his own ass home.



"Nice digs, man," Yonnie said over his shoulder as Carlos cleared a ridge.



"Couldn't have done it without you, brother," Carlos said, watching Yonnie stare at the house trying to approximate Tara's position inside.



"Hey, wouldn't have been able to flip the digits if you hadn't made the come up, "Los."



"Cool," Carlos said with a smile. "So, we're even - and I guess you won't take it no type of way if I don't rift the silver block on her room or her motions within the new compound."



Yonnie put his hands behind his back and closed his eyes. "That's cold, man. You silver shielded me out... damn, my own boy don't even trust me."



"She's married, holmes. C'mon now. You're talking to me." Carlos smiled as Yonnie peeked at him with one eye. "I trust you about anything but her - and you almost got my ass kicked by my own team behind a chat on the beach."



"We was just talkin'," Yonnie said, opening his arms and trying not to laugh.



"Councilman Yolando, be real," Carlos said, opening his arms and laughing. "There was seduction signature all in that shit when she came back, man ... and she's married to a nose."



Yonnie held up his hands in front of his chest, chuckling. "Aw'ight, aw'ight, what can I say? It was the first time I held her where ... damn, man," he said, suddenly allowing the mirth to drain away from him as his arms slowly lowered and his gaze went back toward the house. "First time she had a pulse... had red blood flowing in her veins ... was warm. No illusion, really was warm from life." He looked at Carlos. "I make no apologies, brother - I couldn't help it."



"What can I say to that?" Carlos muttered, truly understanding. He looked at the house with Yonnie and rubbed his jaw, hoping they wouldn't have to come to blows over the situation.



"She was a master, too," Yonnie said offhandedly "Damn..." Carlos frowned and looked at him. "Now you've lost me."



"You came up, dragged me with you. I had the elevation capacity, took her where I went with a no-bullshit mate bite." Yonnie shook his head, his eyes never leaving the house. "I didn't know I'd gone up a notch, definitely didn't know she had, 'til she bulked one time out in Arizona during Cain's time when something spooked her... but hey."



"You gotta let it go, man..." Carlos let his breath out hard. "Don't make me regret leaving a back door open for you to come on the property, brother - c'mon, work with me. Damn. As it is, your ass is standing on hallowed ground, and they can't monitor open conversations here because the four corners all the way to the epicenter have been barriered. Now, if I lift the ban, you fry. So, chill."



"All right, aw'ight, damn." Yonnie turned away from the lit house below and closed his eyes. "Don't act like you haven't been here."



"It's because I've been here that I know that the only instinct greater than the one you're battling at the moment is the survival imperative - and that's why I'm not playing when I say, do not take me there and make me lift the ban while you're on the property." Carlos looked at Yonnie and didn't blink.



"Aw'ight, Mr. Chairman," Yonnie grumbled.



"Don't be like that, man."



"How am I supposed to be?"



"Grateful that I'm about to drop some science on you."



"Yeah, right," Yonnie said, releasing a bored sigh of frustration. "Why you call me tonight?"



" 'Cause I wanna tell you something, man... like, I ain't in your business, but you might wanna watch the company you keep."



Yonnie tilted his head. "Come again. I live in Hell, dude. What - "



"You know a witch named Lorelei?"



Yonnie paused for a moment, thinking. "Oh ... yeah ... damn...Straight skeezer, gives good rim."



"Yeah, well, she gave you more than good rim."



Yonnie opened his mouth then walked a hot path away from Carlos and came back. "I do not fucking believe - "



"Yeah, she left you burning, brother," Carlos said calmly. Yonnie tilted his chin to the sky and closed his eyes, fury making his fangs drop. "What kind of STD was it?"



"Dissension demon," Carlos said flatly.



"Oh, shit!" Yonnie began pacing again.



"Nasty little motherfucker, too. Me and D got him before he burrowed deep into the team."



Yonnie stopped walking. "Tell me Tara ain't see that shit."



"You want me to lie to make it feel better, or you want the truth?"



"Oooooh, shit." Yonnie walked away from Carlos shaking his head. "I'ma kick that witch's ass, yank her sorry spine right out of her - "



"Before you get melodramatic," Carlos said calmly, studying his nails, "here's what's up." He waited until Yonnie had calmed down enough to listen, and took his time laying out the pros and cons, risk factors to both Yonnie and the team, then stepped back.



"So, that's why I'm saying, you might wanna let her thank me and you don't talk like that... not where I'd let you know we had to kill a dissension demon you carried to us. But, however you wanna play this is up to you. I'm trying to figure out ways you can pass them bogus info so that you can put your hands up and claim plausible deniability, if you get caught."



"Cool," Yonnie said, nodding. He was about to pound Carlos's fist when Carlos drew back his hands with a smile and held them up in front of his chest. "No offense," Carlos said.



"None taken - my bad," Yonnie said, wiping his hands down the front of his Armani. "It's gonna take a lot of re straint not to just wring that bitch's neck."



"Well, at least she didn't give you nothing permanent that could cripple you, like a were black blood exchange."



Yonnie walked away from Carlos, pointing when Carlos laughed. "You ain't right, man. You know down in the realms we gotta do a lot of insane shit to survive. And, yeah, I've done some shit I ain't proud of, but - "



"Relax, man, damn, I'm just messin' with you." Carlos shook his head. "I almost got jacked by a were-jag in the Amazon, that's all I'm saying ... just warning my brother to be more careful with your shit."



"Oh, aw'ight," Yonnie said, shaping up his Afro. "Thought you was signifying."



"No." Carlos folded his arms over his chest and kept a straight face for a second. "I ain't got shit to say about Lilith." He couldn't hold it when Yonnie cracked a smile, and they both burst out laughing.



"Maybe Lilith wants the little critter back tonight?" Yon nie said, chuckling hard. He winked at Carlos. "By now, they oughta be good ta go in my system." Carlos cringed. "Aw... man... that is so nasty. You defi nitely don't have to go there for the team. Go get your shit cleaned - "



"Fair exchange," Yonnie said, shrugging. "She's gonna try to kill me anyway ... so, what's a little dissension down in council? I didn't know." He opened his arms. "I got blind-sided by one of her witches."



Carlos's face was still contorted with disgust. "But, Lilith? Naw, man, you don't have to go there."



"Listen to me," Yonnie said with a sly grin, and then pro duced a toothpick in his mouth and began manipulating it with his tongue. "She liked some Yolando, okay. And girl



friend got some throne installation moves that date back to the dawn of time - first female type shit."



Carlos held up his hands and began walking toward the house. "I don't wanna know." He



had to get all images of that out of his head before he stepped to Damali.



"You might wanna know this, though," Yonnie said, staying Carlos's leave. Carlos turned and simply looked at him.



"Aw'ight, yeah, when I came up here I was gonna bargain with you, man ... for just one more time to holla at Tara. But, given my situation and that I've gotta go get blasted to get this STD shook loose ... I'm not trying to bring that home to my baby - so ..." Carlos's gaze hardened as he waited.



"She installed me in my throne when she was weak, when forces down there had been drained, feel me? Under any other circumstances, it's doubtful that any of her shit would have bled over to me, being how old she is comparatively - but I was topside and unaffected when contagion hit subterranean. Now fact, girlfriend got so much game, I couldn't even begin to get all the shit she did eons ago - way deep. But there's something real new going down that's worrying the shit out of her . . . real close to the surface. It's somewhere she can't see into and none of us can, either. Maybe it's in a church, I don't know."



Nod reverberated inside Carlos's head, but he just kept listening and rubbing his jaw as Yonnie talked.



"All I'ma say is this," Carlos warned. "Next time, Lilith will be real strong. She'll siphon your ass dry, if you don't watch yourself."



"Yeah, yeah, aw'ight." Yonnie grinned at Carlos, flashing a hint of fang. "But the woman can throw down, C."



"I'm out."



"Oh, so now, no thank you, Yonnie. No exchange for the info - "



"I gave you valuable info," Carlos said laughing. "Told you your ass was burning so you could go to a dark coven clinic and get your shit sandblasted." Yonnie flipped Carlos the bird, making him laugh harder. "Oh, so now it's like that?"



"See you tomorrow night, man," Carlos said, walking away and shaking his head.



* * *



It was so peaceful outside as he made it down a part of the ridge and through the front gardens that he almost wanted to stop and just listen to the night sounds, breathing it all in. But there was something much more pressing propelling him toward the house. Just seeing his friend's jacked-up situation reminded him of all the things he needed to be thankful for once again.



Carlos stopped before he got to the front door and said a prayer to jettison anything off him that he might be carrying as baggage from his brief meeting outside with his very wild friend. But as he crossed the threshold, he knew he couldn't judge Yonnie. They had walked similar paths, but very different circumstances prevailed. For one, during the entire time he'd been a vamp, he'd had Damali.



He crossed the great foyer with that singular concept in mind, and bounded up the right side of the dual staircase to reach the second floor. He'd been real lucky that he'd never been subjected to an installation by Lilith, or worse. Timing -  whew, Carlos wiped his brow as he paced down the hall. When his moves had landed him dark promotions, Damali had always been there to passionately celebrate with. Same deal in the reverse. She'd been



right there with him by his side in the Light He hadn't ever needed to go anywhere else, where he could have picked up something nasty he couldn't shake. Anything wild and elaborate he did had been because... yeah, he was out of his damned mind. When he pushed open the bedroom door he stood in the archway of it for a moment. She had put tallows of all shapes and sizes on the wrought-iron racks he'd set up for her around the bed. He could smell the fire combining with melting wax, shea butter, and something deep and musky and sensual coming from the bathroom ... running water. He stared at the butter cream-hued sheets and satin duvet she had turned down, suddenly feeling too grimy to enter the sacred space she'd created.



"Hi," she murmured, coming out of the bathroom.



He didn't move or immediately answer. He couldn't, but just allowed his eyes to drink her in. Soft candlelight from the bathroom and bedroom framed her in a muted golden glow. Gentle light caressed the semisheer, long ivory satin sheath she wore that was held on her shoulders by the barest wisp of cord. The illusion of her nude form, just the outline of her body, was paralyzing ... where her breasts rose, her nipples pouted against the silk, the swell of her hips, the dip of her waist, the smooth crest of her thighs, the way her mound rose slightly between the V between her legs ... He loved watching the colors dance in the reds and golds and browns of her hair, and the way it played across her caramel skin, her eyes making it sparkle. Oh, definitely, thank you, Lord.



"I need to strip by the door...just in case," he said quietly, ashamed to be so dirty in her presence. "I had to deliver the message to my boy, start the ball rolling. Sorry I'm late." She crossed the room with a security clothing bag, her expression serene, and handed it to him. "I know. It's cool. It gave me time to get ready for you." He looked at her and started peeling away the offending fabrics. The way she was staring at him made it hard to breathe as he sealed the bag and dropped it by the door. She nodded with a smile toward title deck.



"Oh, yeah, right," he said, remembering protocol, and picked up the bag, tossed it out into the bonsai garden, then locked the sliding glass door.



She chuckled. "C'mon ... let me get you into the tub." He didn't have to be told twice. He let her lead the way and made sure he didn't touch her. He briefly hesitated as she rounded the tub and stood at the head where the fixtures were. Low jets churned the water into a sudsy froth and humidity in the room had fog-coated the mirror and shower



"See you tomorrow night, man," Carlos said, walking away and shaking his head.



* * *



It was so peaceful outside as he made it down a part of the ridge and through the front gardens that he almost wanted to stop and just listen to the night sounds, breathing it all in. But there was something much more pressing propelling him toward the house. Just seeing his friend's jacked-up situation reminded him of all the things he needed to be thankful for once again.



Carlos stopped before he got to the front door and said a prayer to jettison anything off him that he might be carrying as baggage from his brief meeting outside with his very wild friend. But as he crossed the threshold, he knew he couldn't judge Yonnie. They had



walked similar paths, but very different circumstances prevailed. For one, during the entire time he'd been a vamp, he'd had Damali.



He crossed the great foyer with that singular concept in mind, and bounded up the right side of the dual staircase to reach the second floor. He'd been real lucky that he'd never been subjected to an installation by Lilith, or worse. Timing -  whew, Carlos wiped his brow as he paced down the hall. When his moves had landed him dark promotions, Damali had always been there to passionately celebrate with. Same deal in the reverse. She'd been right there with him by his side in the Light He hadn't ever needed to go anywhere else, where he could have picked up something nasty he couldn't shake. Anything wild and elaborate he did had been because... yeah, he was out of his damned mind. When he pushed open the bedroom door he stood in the archway of it for a moment. She had put tallows of all shapes and sizes on the wrought-iron racks he'd set up for her around the bed. He could smell the fire combining with melting wax, shea butter, and something deep and musky and sensual coming from the bathroom ... running water. He stared at the butter cream-hued sheets and satin duvet she had turned down, suddenly feeling too grimy to enter the sacred space she'd created.



"Hi," she murmured, coming out of the bathroom.



He didn't move or immediately answer. He couldn't, but just allowed his eyes to drink her in. Soft candlelight from the bathroom and bedroom framed her in a muted golden glow. Gentle light caressed the semisheer, long ivory satin sheath she wore that was held on her shoulders by the barest wisp of cord. The illusion of her nude form, just the outline of her body, was paralyzing ... where her breasts rose, her nipples pouted against the silk, the swell of her hips, the dip of her waist, the smooth crest of her thighs, the way her mound rose slightly between the V between her legs ... He loved watching the colors dance in the reds and golds and browns of her hair, and the way it played across her caramel skin, her eyes making it sparkle. Oh, definitely, thank you, Lord.



"I need to strip by the door...just in case," he said quietly, ashamed to be so dirty in her presence. "I had to deliver the message to my boy, start the ball rolling. Sorry I'm late." She crossed the room with a security clothing bag, her expression serene, and handed it to him. "I know. It's cool. It gave me time to get ready for you." He looked at her and started peeling away the offending fabrics. The way she was staring at him made it hard to breathe as he sealed the bag and dropped it by the door. She nodded with a smile toward title deck.



"Oh, yeah, right," he said, remembering protocol, and picked up the bag, tossed it out into the bonsai garden, then locked the sliding glass door.



She chuckled. "C'mon ... let me get you into the tub." He didn't have to be told twice. He let her lead the way and made sure he didn't touch her. He briefly hesitated as she rounded the tub and stood at the head where the fixtures were. Low jets churned the water into a sudsy froth and humidity in the room had fog-coated the mirror and shower glass across the room, as well as halfway up the windows. She'd rimmed the foot of the tub in a half-moon of white tallow and it was difficult to stop staring at the hypnotic wa terfall that cascaded down the wall fountain over rocks, picking up candlelight and her in the shimmer.



"Get in, all the way down to the shoulders ... and lemme douse your hair." If there was a dissension entity clinging to his spirit, it was pretty much fried away by the



sudden heat Damali had caused to slingshot through his system. He was agreeable to anything she wanted to do right now. There was no resis tance in him whatsoever as he slid into the fragrant, opaque water and then immediately realized with a groan what part of the sensual aroma contained. Oil of Hathor.



Carlos closed his eyes and began breathing through his mouth. She'd supercharged the malachite tiles in water... in a white bath, with her own special blend of whatever that had oil of Hathor as its base.



"What are you doing to me?" he murmured with his eyes closed while she sponged water into his hair. It drizzled down his face and lashes.



"Watering my warhorse ... just like you said," she mur mured and kissed his temple. If he hadn't been holding on to the side of the tub, he would have just slipped beneath the surface and drowned. The jets were on low. That, combined with the tiles, were sending bubbling tingles of chakra stimulation down his spine. Her gentle massage of his scalp while kneeling be hind him outside the tub was making him irrational. Suddenly she nuzzled his cheek so passionately that it put fangs in his mouth. It was the way she did it while working the knots out of his neck with her thumbs underwater, then she'd rubbed her face against his damp neck when he leaned up for her. He needed her mouth on his, but she stayed posi tioned behind him, just out of reach, alternately hard-nuzzling the sides of his neck until he arched in the tub. No longer able to stand the tease, he turned quickly to capture the nape of her neck with the cup of his wet hand. He needed her tongue to twine with his so badly now that when she opened her lips to accept his kiss he moaned right into her mouth. Oil of Hathor with her soft touch, the tub jets hitting lit pulse points and meridians, made him pull her closer, sloshing water on the floor. The only reason he broke the kiss was so they could stand, but he had to be careful not to trip over the fixtures as he looked at her wet gown clinging to every conceivable curve she owned.



She stood there, transfixed for a moment. This wasn't part of the plan. Tonight was his gift and yet try as she might, the look on his face was making her forget all that she'd intended to do. She couldn't help it. The oil in the water had left him with a glistening sheen over golden skin fired by candlelight. It dampened his dark lashes that now partially hid his intense, silver eyes, and highlighted the contours of his strong jaw, down his throat and over his Adam's apple, down his cinder block-defined chest, all the way down his beautiful abs to that dark silky trail of jet black hair curling just below his navel. Compelled, she ran her thumbs over his dark, raisin-colored nipples and watched his eyes slide shut with a hard swallow. Her mouth found the scar at the center of his chest right over his heart, the brand mark where her fist holding an Isis had permanently marked him so many years ago.



With a quiet gasp he held the back of her head with trembling fingers and then slowly pressed her closer so that her cheek could rest against the scar.



"It's too sensitive right now," he whispered, his entire body shuddering from her attention to his scar while her thumbs grazed his nipples. "I feel it in my shaft... old wiring you did years ago."



"I know," she whispered against the scar, breathing warmth into it. "I remember every ... single... one of those places."



He bent, took her mouth hard and held her jaw with his hands, then broke away to begin



kissing her face frantically in hot, passionate bursts. In one lithe move he'd stepped out of the tub blindly and pressed the length of their bodies to gether with a deep groan. When he broke away from her mouth again to catch his breath, she watched his eyes cross beneath his lids as he flattened his palm in the dip of her spine and made her pelvis collide with his. She knew where he was at; his body demanded friction, even more urgently, penetration, but she wanted to take him to a transcendent place in his mind ... the only problem was, he'd begun to unravel hers.



His palms slid down into the dip in her spine to capture the rise in both halves of her behind, and the heat he applied there made her want to climb up his body the way her Sankofa tattoo was climbing up her back. Soon she could see liquid, shimmering hue from her aura spilling off of her skin onto his, something only he'd been able to see on her before. As his energy essence commingled with hers, the unanticipated sensation made them both cry out.



She threw her head back, holding on to his shoulders, nearly faint as the urge to draw him inside her reached a fever-pitch just from their heated embrace. His hands were wreaking havoc with her chakras, hot sweeps delivering spon taneous tactical charge, sending hard contractions throughout her canal, quaking her womb, and releasing choked gasps just from his touch. Somehow the oil of Hathor had become her ruin, too. Carlos's hands slid up her spine and caressed her shoulder blades where her wings normally crested, but his touch created agony, his will able to forestall them from presenting and making her crazy. It was as though she couldn't get enough of his skin to touch hers at one time. His labored bursts of warm breaths against her neck drove her hand between their bodies to stroke him, but he wouldn't let her. Instead he quickly cap tured her wrist, brought her palm to his mouth, and placed a deep kiss in the center of it until she practically dissolved like another puddle on the floor.



Every sensitive point on her was on fire and had made her nearly insane with need. All she could do was rub her body against his, allow her breasts and her belly and fevered mound to graze his hard burning surface, trying to capture jus mouth again while on her tiptoes. She loved this man so much she couldn't breathe.



The moment he put his hands in her hair, her locks ignited with a blue-white erotic charge that buckled her body to a near orgasm. But rather than allow it to run its normal course, he caught it in his fist, drew it from the crown of her head, down through her body in agonizing increments, and finally pulled it out of the base of her spine so slowly she wept.



"Your eyes are silver," he said in an awed, satisfied murmur. "I've never seen that happen before."



She grasped his biceps hard as she turned her head and looked away. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her nails had begun to score his skin. "Please ... let it go," she whispered hoarsely, unable to move as she stood trembling, waiting, needing him to release what he'd captured inside a small, pure silver energy orb.



"I will in a minute, tesoro. After all you've given me, let me give you back something, beyond all twelve of the planets ... Oh, baby, you showed me creation point with oil of Hathor as a catalyst before," he murmured quickly in her ear, sending heat chills through her as his voice hit a low decibel that clenched her stomach. "Let me show you the outer limits..."



She felt her legs give way and his arms were suddenly under them. There was no



resistance, no argument, no dissension whatsoever. It felt like her mind was turning into liquid quicksilver and threatening to run out of her ear, he'd made her so hot. The outer limits? Damali closed her eyes and crushed her face against his chest. Her husband was insane. He'd walked her into the bedroom so swiftly with so much energy wafting off him that every candle went out the second he neared the bed.



Carlos sprawled her across the bed, just let her spill from his arms onto the butter-cream bedsheets, and the pale blue-white wash of light that came from his silver stare and the moon made her do the only thing she could - reach for him. But rather than immediately come to her, he opened his palm at the side of the bed and let the orb he'd been grasping float toward her. She didn't know what to do, had no frame of reference for where he would take her. Instinct made her open her hand to accept it and she closed her fin gers around it. Yet the instant she did that, the shell of it shattered, and sparkling, confetti-like energy glitter rushed out, floated up and then slowly floated back down like an iri



descent, gentle rain.



She didn't understand why he'd stepped back. Curiosity made her lift herself up on her elbows and stare at him through a heavy-lidded gaze, and then she looked up at the sparkling dust that was backlit by the moon and stars that were peering through the skylight.



"I love you, baby," he murmured, and watched with utter satisfaction as the sparkling particles began to touch her. "Experience the galaxy ... then I'll join you." At first, all she could do was open her mouth and clutch the sheets, so blown away that no sound exited her lungs. Every infinitesimal place a glittering speck hit her sent or gasm trauma through her skin, her hair, her breasts, over her shoulders and belly, and down to her toes. Her skin was cov ered with the shimmering substance that continued to pelt her gently until she fell back against the bed, spent. But as long as it coated her, it continued to send climaxes through her 'til she shrieked.



Prone, then arching, a wail so deep and filled with pre cious agony opened her mouth, making her taste the shim mering energy, swallow it, letting it turn her inside out as it coated her insides and pulled her up in hard jerks from in side her belly. It was all over her, everywhere, and her plea sure sobs turned into a bleating refrain of Carlos's name, reaching for him. He had to get deep inside her, touch the one place that the shimmering energy missed before she went insane. Acute need demanded it. When he blanketed her, she lost what was left of her mind. His sudden weight was just a tease, something that had made her eagerly lift her hips in frustration to claim him. But just as quickly as he'd covered her with his hard body, his shaft pulsing against her thigh like a promise, he took back his wondrous body heat She almost screamed as he just pulled all that phenomenal maleness down her torso by increments until he opened her with his tongue, inviting more energy flecks to sprinkle her there and join his ardent kisses. Pleasure had sent her away from herself, out of body, out of mind, out of breath, to an outer limit where ecstasy could exist in a sliver of universal fabric between one solar system and the next - a void, when a holler was an open-mouthed, silent scream, a breath truncated to gulp nothing but tongue, to a place where it seemed like one was floating but was moving at incredible speeds yet unmeasured by mortal man. When he entered her she saw Light, a brilliant nova's edge of a place that left the sparkling flecks and the void behind.



Her voice bounced off the walls, her flat palm slapped the sheets, his back, his shoulder, turning her legs into a vise as pleasure hysteria lifted her up, wrung her out, had her speaking in tongues begging him for what, she wasn't sure. Her mind couldn't even process her own request, just burst with the hollered litany, "Please! Oh, God, please!" The bite he delivered broke the last of her down, made her lose contact with her mothership of reason, separated her from her body, thrust her onto her own astral plane in a hot, slick, wet slide of skin against skin, perfectly fitted bodies made one for the other, his pure piston energy about to spontaneously combust with every holler, so crazy, temporarily losing orbit with one another in a hard roll that collided with wood and an unseen barrier - her blunt-edged bite making him see stars inside her head, the line between Ws and her body pure vapor, impossible to judge as his voice bit a crescendo, then bottomed out and became distant thunder. Ka-boom. He was stardust, too -



subatomic pleasure particles, a meteor shower of hot molten rock threatening to give them both heart attacks in bed.



His palm connected with an oak post - something, anything, he had to stay grounded and stop the charge. Her wet, spasming canal felt so good he'd almost swallowed his tongue... had only been a mad scientist experimenting with raw power, didn't know the outcome, had been talking shit, playing -  oh, damn, it felt so good. All his plans for the evening had gone up in flames with reentry. He couldn't pull out, stop to taste her, or anoint the bathroom rocks with her wails, not tonight. Not after her energy hit his energy and he'd blanketed her too soon, mistake. Falling flecks of orgasmic release coated his back, absorbed into his chakras and spine, her furtive sweeps down his back, maddening, her breasts crushing the air from his lungs - a hard roll was the only way to save her wings.



Pinned down at the shoulders, her full weight and energy demanding recompense, with her head thrown back, silver tears streaming, she rode him so hard he was catching cramps in his quads. But stop, how? While snorting blue flames? Oh, hell yeah, she'd watered her warhorse 'til he was sweating gold lacquer, her hands rubbing silver sparkles into it through his chest.



His heart was in arrhythmia. Every convulsion that dredged his sac on each upthrust felt so damned good that his rib cage seized with his breaths, her down-strokes like a CPR hit necessary to save his life. He could barely watch her, his sight blurred by silver-gold tears, her hair wild, wings spread, skin slicked silver from her Neteru sweat, beautiful eyes shut, luscious mouth open gulping air, breasts bouncing, knees bent, thighs clenching his hips, riding him bareback, no hands, her stomach a network of flexible muscle that made a grown man cry.



He could feel her dragging him somewhere so fast so deep into her universe that he released the post, sat up, and wrapped his arms around her waist and hid his face against her breasts. Blackout. There was no sound. Blackout. There were no heartbeats. Blackout. There was no light. Blackout. The darkness gave way to blinding light. Then he felt it all. Oh...shit...



Her name fractured in two like his sanity -  'Mali! Release convulsions kicked his ass for playing with the unknown, messing with her mind, got all inside his, curled his toes, made his pants shallow, fast, and hard, tore his voice up from the roots and twisted it around her name three times  -  Da-Ma-Li! Oh, shit, it was so good, don't stop, but make it end, dear



God. He was only human, she was only human, this time maybe he'd gone too far. "Please, baby, ground the charge!"



They both reached out at the same time, each lunging toward opposite sides of the bed without breaking their physical connection. She touched the headboard, he'd grabbed a post. Neither said a word as the final orgasm crested and slowly ebbed away. She dropped like a stone against his chest. Gold-splattered feathers were everywhere, so were minor traces of blood from his bite. They lay like that for a long time, her sprawled on top of him, him spread-eagle under her, both of them gulping air.



When he could focus, he opened his eyes and stared up at the stars through the skylight and studied the moon, catching his breath - now philosophical, a respecter of gravity.



"Don't ever do that again," she said, breathing hard and laughing softly. "At least not without warning me."



He shook his head, still in discovery shock. 'Trust me, baby. I won't."



* * *



"They killed it," Lorelei wept with a shaking voice, engaging her crystal ball.



"What did the Neterus kill?" Lilith's voice hissed.



"They killed my dissension demon ... it was conjured up with such a wonderful spell." Lilith didn't immediately answer. If the Neterus had detected something as deeply embedded and insidious as a dissension demon, then what else had they discovered? She needed to speed up her strategy. Her nerves were wire-taut-nothing could make her plan fail. Almost half a month had passed; one full moon had come and gone. If she didn't get to her secreted-away heir in Nod before the next full moon and bring it to where it could be given a creation pulse to grow, then she would have again failed her husband - an unacceptable consequence.



"You passed it to them through Yolando, where is he now?" Lilith asked, prying for information without divulging her hidden plans to the other high-ranking vampires that surrounded her. "We must ensure his safety. They could have found out that he was a carrier, and might have also begun to question his adherence to the team - what if his infiltration strategies have not worked?"



"I lost track of him in the mountains ... there are a lot of ancient Native American sacred grounds near where he'd been that create interference sometimes," Lorelei said, sounding unsure. "I'll find him, though."



"We will put out a call," Lilith said crisply. "We must also be sure he is still with us at all times."



* * *



She was in no shape to meet the Covenant this morning, much less to go meet the Neteru Queens in order to check on the status of her oracle. About the best she could do was possibly hobble down to the kitchen with Carlos holding her up to eat breakfast. Damali looked at Carlos, and he glanced at her and winced, trying to lift his leg into his jeans.



"This don't make no sense," he said, finally laughing and falling back on the bed. "You've gotta heal a brother, for real."



"Me?" she said, aghast. "You were the one just playing with - "



"I know, I know, my bad," he said, chuckling with his eyes closed, sprawled out. "But, maaan, was it good."



"My voice is still hoarse," she said. "I need some herbal tea or I'll be sooo embarrassed when the clerics get here, Carlos - why do you do this kinda stuff to me all the time?" He leaned up with effort and offered her a big grin. "If I have to tell you that, then I guess it's worse than I think... I'm losing my touch."



* * *



hugs and warm welcomes passed through the new compound, otherwise known as the house. It was far from a house - part dorm, part base station, part studio; it was truly a citadel just missing visible cannons. But this morning, be fore the Covenant arrived, it was home.



Damali smiled and tried not to talk so much. Her body aches had been healed in a long, solo, Epsom salt bath, much to Carlos's dismay, but the team - even if the clerics didn't -



would have to know there was only one reason she sounded like a bullfrog. It didn't matter that the rooms were reinforced against sound for privacy's sake. The night before she'd sounded normal at dinner, and all the pollen in the world wouldn't account for the vocal loss. Her attempts to heal herself hadn't worked, and the fact that Carlos found it to be a badge of honor simply got on her last nerve.



The vibe radiating off the kitchen was so white-hot, she had to check to see if the oven had been left on. She was not about to inquire and was just glad to see that Inez's mood was so buoyant that the chile was practically skipping -  which meant the grub would be off the hook for the visit.



Dan and Heather had even braved coming into Inez's world to teach her how to separate various foods and kitchen equipment out properly to keep certain dishes kosher for Rabbi Zeitloff. To her surprise her normally prickly girl friend was in such a good mood that she took it all in stride. Inez even let Marlene and Marjorie come in there to help, while Krissy, Jasmine, and Heather set the table, with Tara and Juanita on detail to bring fresh flowers in.



At loose ends, she saved her voice by prepping rooms, making sure guests would have linens and towels, and watching the male squad racing around trying to get the last of the boxes unpacked and furniture in place. Why every body was so hyped about the Covenant's stay, she wasn't sure. But in the absence of parents, and regular neighbors and such, she figured it all had to do with the semblance of normalcy thing... and having good vibes and blessings cover one's union didn't hurt at all.



The vibe in the house from the tactical squad was so pow erfully positive and uplifting that furniture kept levitating a few inches off the floor when one of them passed. Coffee table books, magazines, vases, silverware, nothing would stay put as they walked by. Finally they got sent to ground their energy in the earth outside. Murmurs of "My bad" and swallowed smiles just made Damali shake her head.



The seers were no better and were making her eyeballs hurt. Their auras were neon and when they walked across the floor humming they left multi-hued footprints for a second. The trackers were the worst. Every few minutes Jose and Rider would stop whatever they were doing, close their eyes, inhale deeply, and release it with a shudder and a sigh. If they could just get through the meal, do the meeting, and show the clerics guest



quarters, then maybe, just maybe, she could pass out for an hour or two and then summon the energy to go have a talk with her Queens.



he was glad he'd been sent alone to go collect the clerics from the safe house to bring them home. It gave him time to think, time to keep his mellow groove shielded from chaotic house details.



Carlos gripped the wheel of the rented SUV. Home. He'd finally set up a place that, for real, felt like home... felt per manent. He allowed the concept to sink in and filter through him like a good clean rain. Every man in the house felt it. The evidence that every brother in the house had christened his home was seen in their relaxed swaggers and easy smiles, everybody so chill they were practically liquefied.



He also understood why there was so much frenetic activity around the visits, every brother up in the joint, including him, was hoping for a one-on-one. Their wives obviously were, too, pulling out the stops like no warriors normally would. They were breaking out holiday silver, good plates, the whole nine like polishing brass for a Vatican inspection. Everyone clearly wanted a verse said over their loved one's head from the real McCoy, prayers walked across the floor while they saw it done, their bedrooms sealed against entry, hands placed on heads from old men of the cloth ... just to be on the safe side, and keeping it very real.



As Carlos turned into the inconspicuous block and began to slow down to find the house, he had to admit that, yeah, he wanted to get whatever blessings, absolution, whatever was possible to keep his woman safe, too.



There was no faking it, no denying he wanted Father Pat to give him one of those old, gruff stares that said it would be cool. He wanted assurances, despite knowing better, knowing such things didn't exist. But if the old man had insight, a special direct SAT



phone to On High, he wanted to get a message through that if his lady got pregnant again, please, God, let it be normal, make sure the kid would be his and safe ... no matter that he'd seen all he'd seen and knew what he knew.



Last night changed everything for all of them, he was sure. But he could only speak for himself. To his mind, he'd made love to his wife for the first time in their own first home. They'd put down roots and the next steps were imminent, regardless of their job descriptions. Little ones were on the way - it was in the air, thick. The procreation imperative had put down roots, too, like a redwood. And if having clerics physically reside in the house and send good vibes through it would help the cause, superstition or not, he was down. Because last he'd heard, there was no bargaining with On High - you took your lot and lived with it in peace ... and while not a single soldier was trying to fly in the face of such absolute power, given their job risks, it was only human to want to even the odds.



Father Patrick opened the front door as Carlos pulled into the driveway. He smiled. True to form, the old man was reading his mind. Carlos tried to be cool and get out of the vehicle, taking his time, but still found himself rushing, de spite it all. A broad smile spread across the elderly cleric's face and Carlos took the steps two at a time to greet him. Not a word passed between them as that familiar hug got ex changed. A rough slap on the back felt like a slice of heaven. When they both pulled away they nodded, chuckling, and trying not to sniff too hard.



"You look good, Father," Carlos said, relieved to see him healthy and hale.



"You look like married life is treating you very well," Father Patrick said with a merry twinkle in his eye.



"It's aw'ight," Carlos said, laughing and rubbing his jaw. Father Patrick smiled and then nodded. "Yes, son, it is. It is going to be all right." There was nothing else to say as the others began to gather at the door and warm greetings were exchanged. He'd gotten his answer, direct from the source... sent down through channels from the man who'd saved his life, saved his soul, brought him to a safe house when he was dead to the world. After all was said and done, it was gonna be all right.