She walked away from the African diplomat, accepted McGuire's deal with a rip from the air, and looked at the Asian master. He was taking in long, steady breaths and his eyes were now closed. Perspiration dotted his brow, and he spoke methodically as though struggling to breathe. "Hong Kong, Tibet... Name it."
"For your ass, both," Damali said, her voice tight as she remembered his wife's disrespect.
With lightning swiftness he struck his wife's cheek with a backhanded slap that caused her to fall to her knees, instantly filling his crest with her blood, and then calmly walked up to Damali and presented her with his parchment to stamp. "Worthy competitor," he said, deadly sexuality threading through every word, "she has lost face, and therefore my favor. I add Vietnam... so that when you lose to me, no disrespect will linger to shadow our evening."
Damali allowed her voice to drop to a seductive octave as she accepted the paper from him, her stamp hovering over it. "Skill is also something a lady can't take for granted." She stared at him, watching his inhales slow to a standstill and then suddenly deepen. "What good is size," she murmured, "if you don't know how to work it?"
"I assure you the cadre of skills I possess from several thousand years of vast dynasties will make you feel as though you had won the match. I add North Korea."
"Throw in Japan, because, as I said, size does matter, baby... and I promise you I won't remember jack about what your bitch wife had to say to me."
"Done."
When she stamped his parchment and thrust it against his chest, he closed his eyes and accepted it, taking a moment before stepping away from her. Then she calmly strolled away from him, accepting another bargain from the air.
Her gaze raked the group as she stuffed the papers into the back pocket of her pants, taking her time, knowing that they could feel her ass as their papers slid against it through her fatigues. She put away her dagger and folded her arms over her chest, satisfied. "What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"
Tetrosky ripped the collar of his T-shirt under his flack jacket away from his throat and walked forward, but stopped suddenly at Carlos's low, warning growl.
"I am not that progressive," Carlos said to Tetrosky, then he gave Damali a threatening glare. His mind seized hers in a hard private message. Yeah, baby. You got game. But do not even think about disrespecting me like that in front of my masters!
He let her go mentally and then produced a black bottle, holding it tightly by the neck. She gave him a blase shrug when he tossed it to her and she caught it. But he didn't say a word while watching as she opened it easily with her thumb and turned it up to her mouth and swallowed. The private chat still held a charge, the touch a burning transmission, and yet it also sent valuable information into his awareness that gave him the control he required.
From his peripheral vision he could see the other masters almost swallow with each one of hers. Their cool was blown; their wives were pissed off, but cowed. As his rage simmered and died down, the effect of watching Damali feed shifted his focus. He could actually feel Damali working with the dark energy of the house, using it to her advantage, creating lovely chaos, not resisting in order to maintain her balance... ride it, flip it to make the outcome good.
He chided himself - she'd told him about this process. Had said to leverage the dark within. It made so much sense after watching her do it. All-pro... airtight game. The castle had the most mad-crazy energy, the female vamps had tapped into it and had also been affected by her heavy Neteru scent so close to their mates. Damali was relatively unarmed and outnumbered when they'd fanged on her. The masters' reaction to Damali was like gasoline on a flame to the wives.
Yeah, he got the picture. Under normal circumstances, these vampire ladies were smooth and shrewd enough to have laid in the cut for her, and would not have been so open... would have slit Damali's throat quietly, one-on-one in a ladies' room somewhere, would not have exposed their true feelings to foolishly bum-rush her in public in front of any turned-on master. Damali had sensed that, and had drawn them out into the open where she could fight better... just like a seasoned Neteru huntress would have. Made them reveal themselves, and then worked the protective strength of their masters against them to the bone - drawing it from them to guard her as a prize. They were diplomat's wives, but had been reduced to their base element by the combo. Carlos almost laughed. Pure instinct. He should have seen it coming.
As he watched her drain the bottle, he monitored the growing lust that was sweat-charging the room. He could almost feel the other masters' knees buckle from her slow, deliberate feed. Adrenaline and testosterone was clouding their judgment, strangling their control, blinding their focus about the hunt - or what they should have been doing, trying to kill her... but then, they'd pissed her off more than they'd frightened her. Bad move, gentlemen - if they would have asked him, he would have told them, Damali was not the one.
Carlos glanced around, also needing to distract himself from watching her leisurely feed. In this house, the split-second priority shift had created a vacuum, nature abhorred a vacuum... yes, since this was an unnatural environment, the dark transformation had pulled into her like a lightning rod, super-charging her... this wasn't a passion turn in his arms, she'd gone into it in battle mode. He almost laughed out loud, might have, if a nagging doubt didn't eat away at the back of his mind. Her fluxes with him were brought on by something pure - passion. This was fueled by something dark and with a lot more kick - anger. He just hoped that there was no permanent damage.
He shook off the worry, and stared at her. No. Don't lose focus. This was beyond beautiful. A variable wild card, and Damali was as wild as they got. His baby was gorgeous with her head back, eyes closed, the veins standing up in her neck from the sudden fury, the air stained darker than he'd ever seen it around her, the adrenaline kick to it... with fangs... a residue of Neteru bloodlust battle-heat on, having beat down four vamp females - or nearly so, and then amassing more territory in one wager than he ever could - without giving away one plot of dirt... dayum. Respect. And she'd spoken in Dananu and slapped a master's face from across the room... oh hell yeah, winner take all. He couldn't be angry with the masters around him, their wives, or Damali, about any of it. She'd played this hand well, and they'd played themselves.
This was definitely a way to bust up any alliances, he almost shook his head at the pure treachery of it... brilliance. She was a master, could have them all kill each other and wind up ruling the world with a council seat to go with it. Woman, thy name is evil. The seventh level probably didn't have nothin' for this... Yet she'd also f**ked up the four competitors' confidence... it was a male thing that rippled through the room. Damali was also getting stronger, the more she drank, the longer she stayed in the room in vampire mode, just like he was getting stronger from the environment, enhancing his vocabulary, polishing it to more cultured diplomatic levels... feeling his throne-seat powers weigh in.
Plus, she'd told them that she'd chosen him, the one who had turned her, and if she was his female counterpart, they had to be wondering what the hell he could do when provoked. It was in their eyes, they way they looked at her, but they also lowered their gaze when assessing him. Yeah, any man in his right mind would wonder what it would take to harness that type of energy... crazy part that they would never be able to fathom was, he couldn't - it was her choice. It was easier to control the wind than to try to control her. But after what they'd just witnessed, the likelihood of a direct challenge was very slim.
As she chugged the last of the bottle, he could feel the masters around the room losing the last of their focus on the hunt, becoming concentrated on winning her favor as they openly sent her images that were about everything but the hunt. Dangling seductive offers of their realms to her, casting diamonds at her feet in their minds, and she blithely ignored their growing insistence, some offers of land so tempting that even he was shocked. The whole f**king continent, brother, if she'll go exclusive with you for a century? Damn... Russia... if she'll come whenever you call? Carlos shook his head, as all of India came up on his mental radar with a proposed exchange for a divorce and new bride bite, and Master Xe's wife stormed out of the room. Hey... what could he say? He could dig it. He'd put up all of North America and Canada, just so none of them could have her.
Damali wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tossed the bottle into the fireplace, smashing it, then gazed at the group as though considering what had been put before her. "Evelyn, I swear, if you bring another baby into this castle for these ungrateful hoes... From now on, they get full, willing, adult vamp-helper at the banquet - I don't even want a baby, now, I'm so pissed off! In fact, I don't want to see that shit, either - just bottles! None of you deserve squat beyond that. Not even." She walked to the window and gave them all her back. "I have never been so offended in my life! I don't even want to eat here, much less stay another night."
Carlos watched her closely as the images went raw from the masters to her, each now descending on the erotic burn she'd created, murmuring to her seductively in Dananu in their thoughts, sending graphic images of what a night alone could entail... sending a fight charge through him that made him drop fang. Then she turned around, smiled and licked her bottom lip, and looked at him.
"What did you bet?"
Momentarily stunned by the question, Carlos took a second to regroup. "What do you mean, what did I bet?" He could feel his shoulders becoming tight, gaining bulk as outrage threaded through his system, and the other masters' expressions became hopeful梩oo hopeful.
"Yeah, what did you bet?" she asked low, seductive, walking toward him. "You put my ass on the line... so now I'm going to ask you again, Councilman Rivera - what did you bet?" She paused, and allowed her gaze to run the length of him. "Because you don't get this for free anymore... there are too many tender offers on the table, and this franchise is about to go public. Talk to me."
Fury flooded his system, meeting the outright lust she siphoned from him. This woman was not an obsession. She was an addiction, a dangerous one, right down to his core where his pride resided. She was a physical craving, a need, a part of his bloodstream, the very marrow in his bones. The combination was lethal.
The entire territory, plus a throne! He hollered in Dananu against his better judgment. Silence captured every halted breath. No other master breathed. Carlos's hand went to her throat: and if I win, I want more than you've put on the table for the others - because what I'm willing to lose they don't even have to offer!
Mr. Councilman, she purred in Dananu, every other territory I'll win in the match, plus a night that will scorch your mind for an eternity... and anything else you want from me - on demand. She stood up on her tiptoes and took his mouth tenderly, sending the private image of the baby to him. Play well tonight, and I'll die again in your arms... let the best man win. She pulled her mouth away from his, wet, and let her lids slide closed to half-mast. "Stamp it in blood, baby, so I know you're not playing with me." Then she sucked in air between her teeth, making the sound of a slow hiss as her head dropped back, exposing her throat to him. "I want some so bad right now, I could be compromised."
He tore a parchment from his pocket, and was so angry that blood filled his crest on its own. This was a grudge match now. He stamped the agreement, tore hers from the air and thrust it toward her. "You satisfied?"