CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Damali crossed the hotel room slowly, sipping air in very tiny breaths. What would she say to him, if anything, when this man came out of the bathroom? She picked up his clothes as calmly as she could. He didn't want her? He preferred that to being with her? Okay, she would try to keep an open mind. They'd done a lot of stuff together, but it cut her to the core to know that he would now rather be alone than with her. She took in a deep breath and let it out as calmly as possible.
Shaken, she found a plastic hotel laundry bag in the closet and quietly shoved everything but Carlos's shoes into it with trembling hands. She didn't understand this withdrawal thing, especially as he was having vamp fluxes, and there was nobody to ask about this. She reminded herself that she was no prude; they'd explored a lot of things together. It was his body; he didn't have to share his sexuality with her. It wasn't a betrayal if he wanted to get his shit off all alone. That was cool. She shouldn't have been shocked. No reason to be upset. She'd walked back into the room unannounced, too early. He'd asked for time to himself. Right, right, be cool, girl. This wasn't a betrayal or anything to wig about. This was... this was... Aw, hell, she didn't know what this was. But it wasn't Carlos.
Damali moved like someone had punched her, in stiff, dazed motions to get her ID and some money, a credit card, oh... the room key she'd forgotten... She was supposed to be getting something to eat. Not likely now. How was the door open, though? It had locked behind her.
She crossed the room, picking her way along what felt like a vast expanse, pulled the Do Not Disturb sign off the inside knob, and stared at it. Then she quietly slipped out of the room, hung the privacy marker on the door, and walked down the hall. The elevator was taking too long. Her panties were wet. The image of him on the brink swelled within her mind. Her physical reaction was incongruent with the emotions that seized her heart. The stair exit called out to her. She needed fresh air.
She found herself running, not really looking at where she was going - just bolting.
Images slammed against her brain in stop-start patches of lit bursts framed in darkness. Carlos was on her back deck, half nude, wrapped only in a towel. Blackness. He lifted his head and smiled. Blackness. Sweat trickled down the center of Damali's back as she stopped in the stairwell, retched, but nothing came up.
She panted with her eyes closed, trying to battle the next incoming image. "No!" she said between her teeth as she fought to close her third eye.
But she could feel a dark orb of pressure at the base of her skull defying her internal command. She opened her eyes to resume her escape from the building. Blackness.
Juanita was in a chair next to Carlos. Blackness. His hands were in Juanita's hair.
Damali squeezed her eyes shut as the force of the image made her hold on to the metal stair rail. The kiss was electric. She could feel it in her mouth, along with Carlos's intent to sire. Juanita's arousal became her own. Blackness. Juanita was on her knees between her man's legs.
"Stop!" Damali shouted, creating an echo in the abandoned stairwell. She clutched her hair with both hands, puffing and blowing out breaths like a woman giving birth, desperately trying to shake the connection. Blackness. When Juanita went down on him, Damali covered her mouth and began walking in a circle on a landing. This time no blackness gave her a second to recover and brace for the next image.
Her man's hands were in Juanita's hair, guiding her furtive bobbing. His eyes were closed, head back, the look on his face... She would slay that bitch! Where was her baby Isis? Damali's hand went for her hip. No blade. Marlene had stripped it and put it with Carlos's claw of Heru, along with her stones - gave it to the Covenant to ship while they traveled past layers of international security
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