Chapter Fifteen
Feeling anxious about the bargain he'd just made, Carlos abandoned the stairs and made a hasty transport to the suite. He whirred through the shut door in a cloud of black smoke and saw Damali standing next to the sofa in a battle stance.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked as he paced over to the bar. "We need to talk."
She lowered her blade. "You okay? Why'd you whirl in here like that? The Australian piss you off that bad?"
"No, he was cool," Carlos replied, glancing at the walls. "McGuire and I understand each other. He's an ally." He saw the shock on her face. "Come here," he said. "Please."
When she got close enough to him, he cupped her cheek and transmitted what she needed to know. Damali's eyes widened, she stepped back, and threw a punch that he almost didn't duck in time.
Pure Neteru stained the air red. Damali stood, legs wide, weight balanced, knees bent, sword in both hands, and her eyes lit with rage.
He turned away from her and held onto the bar for support, breathing through his mouth. "You are going to have to calm down, baby, and let me explain."
She marched up to him and grabbed the back of his hair in her fist. Talk to me! Now! Because the hell I'm going to his room - unless it's to cut out his heart! Then she dropped her hold on him.
He looked up slowly, feeling a thin trickle of perspiration run down the side of his face. He reached out and cupped her jaw. It's not what you think. His guard will be down and he'll be unarmed and you'll have your blade on you.
"Oh," she murmured, grudgingly and then began to relax. "Okay."
She reached out to transmit again, but he caught her wrist and held it before her hand could touch his cheek.
"Give me a minute, all right?" he said slowly, then dropped her wrist.
Their attention whipped to the door when they heard a loud commotion in the hallway. His Hell-hound was barking wildly. It sounded like a tornado was tearing apart everything in its path. Suddenly it seemed to descend and they heard glass breaking and furniture being tossed about. The dog calmed its complaint to a snarl.
"What the - "
Carlos pulled her to him hard, covered her mouth with a kiss, both hands on either side of her head, locking her to him. McGuire. You've saturated the air. But he's obviously a man of his word. Probably went to go find his wife.
Damali twisted out of the kiss as a bloodcurdling scream rent the air. "Sounds like he's killing her," she whispered.
"Probably is," Carlos said, his breathing labored.
"What?" Damali's eyes went to the door, then came back to Carlos. "Why?"
"I would, too," he said, his smile showing her a hint of fang.
She put her hand in the center of his chest and said, That doesn't make sense.
He covered her hand and nodded. Oh, baby, yes it does...
"You seemed angry when you came up here." She slipped her hand from his hold.
He shook his head no slowly. "No. I was a lot of things, but angry wasn't one of them."
"Can you just tell me the whole conversation, coherently?"
Again he shook his head slowly. "Not right now I can't." His gaze scored her, then trailed down to the Isis.
"Why not?"
"It's a matter of honor," he said evenly.
Her hand went to her hip. "Whose?"
"Yours," he said in a low voice. He hadn't moved, his eyes now slowly trailing back up her arm to her throat. "Damali... back off for now." It sounded like a half-hearted request. "Please."
He could feel her mood lighten as she paced away from him a few feet. He walked out onto the terrace; he needed some air. He heard her footsteps behind him and sighed. But he allowed her hand to rest on his shoulder.
In fits and starts his mind tried to tackle the problem. The visit to the council to get a passport, the inspection, the ball of nerves this whole ordeal inspired, then Damali's fluctuations, then having to go head-to-head with a strong master, and now a hit of pure Neteru
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