from the colors... white had every rainbow color resident within it, therefore every note.
Instant insecurity rooted Carlos to the floor. Cain could probably fire up the bed like Rider could fire up his ax, pull a blossom off a nearby plant and hand it to Damali all romantic-like while composing on the fly, and make everything around them and under them do multipart harmony. This was the brother's studio, for real. This was where he probably listened to Damali's work. This put a vanishing-point move to shame---
or... shit, what if he could do that too, with the music vibe to go with it? Have her atomically deconstruct, tap a white-light color fusion, feel all the music, every tone to the max, and then bring her back breathless while wurkin'. The brother was built, even he had to admit. Plus this motherfucker could sing?
Carlos briefly closed his eyes and walked in a tight circle, and then abruptly stopped himself so he wouldn't give Cain any more satisfaction than he probably already had. No woman had ever put him in a position like this--ever. If his own imagination didn't kick his ass first, something told him there was a possibility that the SOB coolly getting undressed and dropping heavy armor might.
Okay, he had to keep his head tight as a matter of pride. So the man could handle his business--but he'd have to kill his ass for sure, if he ever dragged D over this threshold. Period.
He was so upset that he couldn't ignore Cain. The being turned around and casually loped toward a huge marble built-in armoire that held an ornate twelve-foot silver-edged mirror. Carlos's heart was beating harder than it needed to. If his woman ever fell by this joint. . .
Just man-up and suck it up, Carlos told himself. He wasn't no punk. Fuck it. Carlos's gaze shot around the expanse. Tall, eight-foot Egyptian pots seemed to guard each of the twelve columns that stood beside the small energy lake fronting as a pool in this brother's bedroom. Carlos swept them mentally--this was as good a place as any for a black adder to slither out. But Cain seemed so relaxed and casual it was setting Carlos's teeth on edge.
He watched Cain serve him his back, remove his body armor, and drop it to the floor like a man who'd come home from a tough day at the office. No stress, no worries, just glad to be home, and tolerating the noise his children were making. That had to be the only reason Cain was physically changing and not just willing it so--he was obviously tired. The battle on the other side of the rip had worn him out a little; Carlos clung to that, glad that something gave him the advantage.
But he wasn't sure what pissed him off more, the fact that this guy clearly wasn't worried about him--so much so that he'd left a weapon within his reach, turned his back on him, and was trying to figure out what to change into, like he wasn't even there--or the fact that he'd have to do about a thousand more push-ups a day and bench press three-fifty at the gym to ever be cut like that.
Carlos rubbed his hands down his face. Damali was so wrong, the girl couldn't ever get right.
Cain tossed a pair of sandals in Carlos's direction, making them whir toward him like Frisbees. Carlos caught one in each hand, and then flung them down hard. He wasn't wearing this SOB's clothes. And he definitely wasn't stepping into shoes in front of Cain that would be way too big. Truth be told, he really didn't wanna know how much bigger Cain's feet were than his at the moment, and he definitely wasn't putting on a robe that would swallow him whole--clean or not. Doing the fang comparison had been humbling enough. The man had him by two inches, which was never gonna sit well with him as long as he was alive.
"You cannot walk around without shoes," Cain said, giving him a quizzical look. "It is not done in the royal families." He pulled a long, elegant, gold-toned robe over his head, and began fastening the elaborate embroidered clasps with silver lion's-teeth hooks. Of all days for him to go looking for Damali... no shoes on, no drawers, just a pair of pants, no shirt. Wait until he got home! Carlos stared at the shoes on the floor, willing them to be the right size.