Between Books












Between
Books: Volume

Eighteen- Damali's Dilemma Part II


After The Forbidden,
Before The Damned
December 2005
Damali's Dilemma... after the dream

Damali fled down the hall just as soon as she could extricate herself
from Berkfieldłs morning rant in the kitchen. As bad as Berkfield
claimed to have to pee, the man had gone on and on about common
consideration until her eyes almost glazed over while listening to him.
The house was way too small and now felt like a matchbox. Carlos had to
be crazy trying to get some in the bathroom!
The shaky plan shełd devised on the fly while
trying to get away from Carlos had to work. But one could only
hope. If she got busted again after what had happened in the motel,
shełd just dig a hole in the yard, cover it up, and disappear!
Multiple emotions battled for dominance within
her as she quietly opened the all-female Guardian bedroom door, slipped
around it, and closed it softly behind her. Acute embarrassment won out.
Damali shut her eyes tightly and leaned against the door, palms flat
against it at her sides like she was being chased, and tried to steady
her breathing. Her heart was slamming so hard that it was spiking her
blood pressure and putting little pinpoints of light beneath her lids.
Men had no concept Well the senior
Guardians were cool, but one Carlos Rivera was not!
Had he any idea how truly mortified she was the
next day when theyłd left that motel? No! He had this big ole grin on
his face like the cat that ate the canary. Damali cringed. That was the
problem, he did. Shit! And everybody on the team heard it in
stereophonic sound. But did Carlos think about the ripple effect and all
the drama that sound-felony had probably caused? Noooooo he most
certainly did not!
Anger wrestled with embarrassment in her head as
she sipped shallow breaths and tried to calm down. The younger guys in
the house had practically high-fived him that next morning, while her
big brothers couldnłt even look her in the eyes. Another wave of shame
washed through her as the thought of Shabazz. He was like her Dad! The
older women were cool, but it took her three days to be able to meet
Marlenełs serene gaze again Marlene was Mom, in every sense of the
word. Poor Marjorie kept dropping things in her presence. Inez was gonna
make her lose her mind with the signifying, you-go-gurl vibe. Krissy
looked at her like she was an Olympic heroine and Juanita was gonna
make her slap the taste out of that heiferłs mouth. No. Never again. Not
like that.
Damali took two, deep, shuddering breaths.
Marlene was right. As the teamłs female Neteru, she had
responsibilities. Each new, untrained Guardian was her chargeand even
though they were adults or close to it, in terms of demon-slaying, they
were just babies. So how would that seem if one of her kids got killed
because she was off somewhere playing? How would she ever be able to
explain to grieving parents that it had happened on her watch because
she was getting busy?
Scratch the parents, how would she explain it to
her queens or The Covenant, oh my God! She could just see
herself trying to tell Father Patrick that Krissy or Bobby had been
eaten by a werewolf because Carlos was eating her and she couldnłt get
up. Insane. Or, trying to tell Inezłs mother and baby girl that Auntie
Damali had let her best friend in the whole wide world get her throat
ripped out by a vamp because she had one on her delivering love bites!
Yeah, and try telling Krissy or Bobby that one or both of their parents
now had fangs, all because she was in the throes of passion with a guy
that used to own a pair himself. Even if Juanita got demon-jacked, shełd
feel bad, crazy as that was.
The bigger issue was, how would she ever explain
any of that to herself, or when the time came to meet her Maker. Therełd
be no plausible way to explain it to the real rule-makers On High. Uh
uh. Carlos had better get out of her face.
Damali slowly wrapped her arms around herself.
There could never be another Dee Dee catastrophe, or the loss of any
more junior Guardians like theyłd sustained a few years back. At least
not because of this. Not because she didnłt listen to sage advice and
didnłt allow the newbies on the team to come into their own powers
without distractions so they could bloom. In her mind, and the way
Marlene had described it, not allowing them to fully develop was akin to
not allowing onełs children to reach their full potential so they could
make it in this big bad world.
Imagine not doing that, she told herself, when
one knew full well there were monsters and beasts. Damali quietly
sighed. Yeah, imagine not being there when your kids woke up terrified
from nightmares that you knew were real. How could one live with oneself
if they left little babies all alone in a house to go out partying and
something awful happened like the house burned down or a predator came
in and snatched them? Carlos didnłt get it. Until each and every newbie
could stand and fight like a senior Guardian, she was Mom. He needed to
start acting like a real Dad. The playboy life was dead.
She had to be the one to fight to the
death for the life of a newbie. Didnłt he realize that, without his
on-point support, she was the one that had to draw a weapon,
square her shoulders, and be ready to kick ass, if necessary. The older
Guardians that filled in as her parents were also getting up there in
years. They were essentially grandparents now which meant they werenłt
as strong as she was, could baby sit upon occasion, but if some shit
jumped offMom had to be there, especially if Dad was off
somewhere trippinł. Somebody had to be the responsible adult. Period.
The reality made Damali hug herself tighter and
lean her head back against the door. Why couldnłt Carlos just see that?
She had to teach the newbies build skills that theyłd carry for life so
they could have a life. She had to nurture to build confidence so they
could bloom. She had to allay their fears, telling them the truth, but
while also giving them guidance on how to cope with it. And she had to
set an example. Show them discipline. Make sure they knew how to avoid
the carnal so theyłd have internal fortitude to resist a vampirełs siren
call.
Then there were the basics of efficiently running
a full household. Everyone had to eat. Laundry had to be done. The joint
had to be orderly like a military barrack so that at a momentłs notice,
everybody could find their fucking weapons! Cleaning up wasnłt an
option; it was part of the survival skills package. This wasnłt a
bachelorłs pad or a dorm. Prayer barriers had to be constantly
reinforced, too.
Chores had to be assigned daily in a fair and
democratic fashion so it wasnłt all left on a few members of the
teamthe womenand something else Mr. Rivera needed to stop grumbling
about. Sheeit so what he didnłt like doing tubs and toilets. Last time
she checked, neither did she. But when it was her turn, the porcelain
was gleaming. Just like his ass had to learn how to cook for the whole
house. Whatever.
Plus, with all the personalities in the house,
dealing with that took a fair amount of energy, just to squash the
constant bickering. By the time she got to bed, it made all the sense in
the world that all she wanted to do was drop and go to sleep. No
freakinł wonder she was dreaming insane dreams!
What about all this didnłt he get? It was no
longer just about him, what he wanted, when he wanted it and the two of
them alone. They had a family, for chrissakes! To her way of seeing
things, he needed to be an active part of that, step up, and shoulder
his portion of the load without grumbling and complaining about it. And,
if the brother had any sense, hełd know that, the sooner he did and
pitched in, the sooner the so-called kids in their charge would learn
and that would push up the timeline to more quickly help get them ready
to fly. By then, the new compound would be built. With the team trained
and fit, and a private space to call their own, then shełd be
able to relax. Then he could get all the hot sex he wanted. It
was a matter of priorities; booty or losing a newbie to catastrophe.
Men!
She let out a heavy breath of frustration and
centered her thoughts. She had to get out of this foul mood and focus.
Hashing and rehashing the whole problem wasnłt doing her any good. She
already knew what she had to do. Unfortunately, there was no space and
time for her individual wants and needs right now till ęthe kidsł in the
house grew up.
But a small part of her had to admit that, she
knew where Carlos was at Didnłt he know how much she would have loved
to stay that bathroom in his arms?
The thought sent a slight shiver down her spine.
The man was sexy as hell. It wasnłt that she didnłt want to she
couldnłt. It wasnłt that she didnłt miss those nights alone in his
lairtheyłd been branded into her soul. It wasnłt as though desire never
scorched her; it was just that when she weighed the immediate,
short-term gratification against the long-term consequences, she had to
make an adult, rational decision. The newbiesł safety and security
always won out.
Damali sighed and slowly slid down the door to
sit of the floor with her back pressed against it. She almost laughed,
feeling hot moisture build beneath her lids. No wonder she was having
crazy dreams. By day she was spent, by night on patrol, and in her
stone-cold sleep was the only private place that she could finally relax
and really get some. Now that was crazy.
And yet, even asleep, she couldnłt completely let
herself gonot in a room packed with newbies in the house. It was like
having kids sleeping with you in bed. Yeah, right, give in to a
full-blown wet dream and wake up to see one of the girls staring at her
shocked. Then she would die a thousand deaths. No way!
Most nights she fervently prayed not to allow her mind to even go near
anything sensual as she drifted off. But shełd been so tired the night
before, it slipped her mind. Okay, her bad. Wouldnłt happen again.
But now it made sense why right in the middle of
a dream-state sexual encounter, her psyche had probably devised a way to
not let that fully happen to completion. Instead of letting the scenario
play out normally, she was swinging a blade at Carlos in mortal combat
like he was a vamp. Wild. She sighed again. That had to be the answer.
This was most likely her own, private, Freudian struggle and not a
vision. Even in heavy REM she was on Mommy duty and couldnłt get laid.
Damali gathered her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her body
hard, resting her forehead on them. Shit
The cosmos was asking a lot of her. She couldnłt
get back in her bed to try to catch a couple more hours of shut-eye
after being hemmed in by Carlos in close quarters up against a tile wall
made that impossible. Hełd left her so horny that there was no way she
couldnłt think about being with him. If he came at her again in a dream
or just walked down the hall, right now she had to admit the truth was,
she wouldnłt be able to say no if her life depended on it. Sitting right
here on the floor where it was safe was best.
Damali tried her best to shake the desire shiver
that was creeping down her spine, and lost the fight. The devastated
look on Carlosłs face and his honest bewilderment let her know that he
hadnłt been tampering with her mind, hadnłt invaded her sleep. Knowing
that didnłt help matters. His eyes pleading with her to relent haunted
her thoughts. He had such intensity burning in them and that sexy,
rough, morning stubble that made his jaw-line darker, simply added to
his allure. His hands were sooo hot against her caress-parched skin that
drank in the touch as though it had been left in the desert for weeks.
He was her water. A true Scorpio man. When he took off his
shirt and stripped his drawstrings, she was done. Damn
Why was her mind kicking her ass like this? She
hadnłt been on the astral plane, and had refused to go there with
himthat would be no different than leaving the house to get it on in a
motel. Both of them would be AWOL and would have left the household
unprotected. This had been her kookiness, not his but God his hands
felt so good and he smelled so freakinł good and his mouth Lawd.
She leaned her head back and took in a long,
deep, cleansing breath. She could do this; get through newbie training
without incident. Like Marlene said, sooner or later ęthe kidsł in the
house would grow up. But keeping her hands off Carlos made months seem
like years.
Three weeks suddenly slammed her full force and
made her want to weep. She wanted him so badly right now that her body
was beginning to shake like a junky. Try as she might to jettison the
hot thought of what might have happened if Berkfield hadnłt knocked on
the bathroom door, the image was firmly planted in her brain and
torturing her now without mercy.
It also didnłt help in the least that she not
only knew where Carlos was, but could feel it. Maybe she should
have given him someno. Scratch that. Shełd been right. There was way in
the world to make love to him and not make a sound. Shełd learned that
lesson the hard way, literally, in the motel. Biting her lip didnłt
help.
Theyłd been just fooling themselves thinking they
could be quiet and do it on the sneak tip, and yet, she couldnłt blame
the man. He was to her what she was to him, a damned narcotic, a
freaking hallucinogen a product of pure pleasureoblivion, when they
got together. The world ceased to exist. Time stopped. There was nothing
but the two of them wrapped in a hot profound ecstasy.
Damali shuddered and swallowed hard. Damn, she
loved that man and wanted him so. But shełd cut his heart out if he ever
put her in an embarrassing position like that again in front of the
whole squad. He knew better, she firmly told herself. She knew better,
she mentally chided. They both knew they were too volatile a combination
to mix with the nighta loud kaboom waiting to happen nitro, too
unstable to mix with a room a bed skin-on-skin catching fire. How was
she supposed to stifle a moan when burning up? How was she supposed to
just quietly stare at the ceiling when being impaled by the most awesome
weapon the man owned, huh? Oh, yeah, right just be as silent as a mouse
when he kissed down her belly and found her secret place and ate her
alive. Not possible.
Her breathing hitched, just thinking about it.
Carlos Rivera was the most stubborn, frustrating, self-absorbed,
aggravating, sexy, awesome, outrageous, cocky, wonderful, intelligent,
chauvinistic, maddening, pain in the ass being shełd ever encountered!
ęIłll be quiet, baby.ł Puh-lleeease. Damali shook her head. The manłs
voice traveled like a bass-note sound wave rattled the damned pictures
on the wall, when he let loose.
She smiled, becoming suddenly flattered that she
could still make him do that. A slight chuckle quietly filled her. Help
her Lord; she was sitting on a bedroom floor losing her mind.
Sure, he always started out quiet enough, but it
never ended up that way. They had to be real. Shit, she had to be real.
It was always the same drama. First hełd be talking trash, cash-shit
all vamp murmurs in her ear against her neck, right on her sweet spot.
Then hełd whisper with that sexy hiss in it, pulling air through his
teeth when he touched her a certain way. She shivered hard. Oh, yeah, he
used his voice against her every time.
Her arms relaxed and her legs slid out of their
hold in front of her. She pushed her hands down firmly on the floor. He
was not going to liquefy her this morning, even though she was almost a
puddle on the rug now. Still. She had to hold the line, she mentally
shouted to herself. Uh uh. No, she was not getting up to go find him in
the yard. Shełd heard the back door slam and knew it was him leaving.
Good, she told herself. She didnłt need to hear his voice, because hełd
start that thing he always did in her ear. She knew full well how the
man operatedsmooth. Not today. Not until the newbies were trained.
If she went to him, his murmur would become a
vibration-laden whisper that slid down her neck, and her legs would
become jelly and slide open without her consent. Then hełd be talking to
her in Espanol, calling her sweet everything he could think of and
thatłs when her voice would start to get louder, as her breathing
escalated.
No, no, no, no, no. Then that would kick off
something louder within him, starting with a low implosion groan that
would hit her insides like a depth charge, sonic boom while he was
wurkinł. From there it would be all over but the shouting, and yeah, it
would come to that, hollering her voice sliding up the scales in
A-minor, finding new intricate harmonies and louder decibels as he did
what he did so well. Naw. Because her voice was a catalyst to his; the
more she lost it, and she would, the more hełd lose it, and he always
did, and by the time they realized it, it would be too late. Noooo. The
whole house would be awake, in their business, and theyłd be busted.
Nope.
Quiet thunder, yeah right. Damali toyed with the
word in her mind, allowing it to leisurely roll over her mental palate
as she sat on the floor remembering her hot dream.
ęThis is thunder,ł hełd said. Shoł
he was right. She started breathing through her mouth.
Thunder thunnnder thundashit.
And, lightening light ten ing, sudden strike.
Oh, God. The man didnłt lie. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and
tried very hard to breathe. Lightłninł, baby. Electrified, liquefied,
white-hot charge. Surreal surrender. Thunder and lightening and oh,
baby, just take it. That was exactly why she said no in a tiled room.
Call and response ricochets would have happened, sound reverberating off
the porcelain like the old nights. Hell no.
Water sources adding to the mix, holding the
charge, sending backlash aftershocks leaving her deaf, dumb, and blind.
Her voice carrying down the hallways and bouncing off hardwood floors.
Their most private endearments playing out before a captive listening
audience. Oh, hell no! Thunder and lightening in broad daylight until
she rained down sobs and he drenched her with sweat. Her acapella chants
urging him not to stop; his promises not to shouted at the top of his
lungs. Was that man crazy? She knew how this would go. Hełd make her
lose her mind when he knocked her head back, and her voice would shatter
the medicine cabinet mirror. Then how would they explain that!
Damali dabbed her brow with the back of her wrist
and opened her eyes, resolute. But she almost jumped out of her skin to
see Juanita leaning up in bed on her elbow staring at her with a scowl.
“Is that my robe?" Juanita asked, her tone sharp
enough to draw blood.
Damali looked down and then quickly got to her
feet, snatching the robe off, and flinging it to Juanita. Damn, damn,
damn! Why couldnłt it have been ęNezłs?
“My bad," Damali muttered. “I
half sleep when I picked it up and was in a rush to go to the bathroom
and didnłt realize."
Juanita looked at the robe that was cast to the
foot of her bed with disdain and sat up. “DonÅ‚t worry. IÅ‚ll wash it
before I wear it again. Trust me."
Damali swallowed a retort that would lead to sure
violence. If the bitch said anything else smart to her, it was on this
morning; her nerves were fried. Rather than follow her first impulse,
which was to leap over the bed and put her hands around Juanitałs neck,
Damali stood aside as Juanita got up and left the room without putting
on her robe.
As she watched Juanita strut down the hall half
nude, Damali counted to ten, and then took her count up to fifty. What
if one of the other guys woke up and saw her? What if Jose came out of
his room, then what? Triflinł cow!
Recent memories of almost stabbing Juanita to
death with a butter knife in the motel diner clenched Damaliłs hands
into fists at her sides. The urge to run after Juanita to beat her ass
made Damali tremble. Just once, thatłs all she wanted, Lord.
Satisfaction, guaranteed.
Instead, Damali opened one hand and ran her
fingers through her locks, and then slaked across the room to hunt for
her exercise clothes. She peered at the other women who, thankfully,
were still asleep, and got dressed.
A shower, alone, and then she was out. A morning
run, twenty miles, would keep her body, mind, and spirit righteous. Then
shełd go find her Glock and hit the shooting range and kill a cactus or
something else inanimate real good. If only she had Madame Isis
Oh, yeah, men just didnłt understand. The house
was waaaay too small. Carlos Rivera needed to get with the fact that,
her soul was in quiet jeopardy for potential murder today.