It was all in the way he turned slowly, rolled his neck as though he was talking to himself hard inside his head, took a deep breath, and began walking. The erotic charge he left in his wake stripped the air from her lungs for a few seconds, and only then did her feet heed the command of her brain to begin moving.
"I should take you back up," he said calmly once they'd reached the base of the mountain. "You have been here a while and your energy is starting to wane. I can feel it."
That was no lie. It was getting harder to put one foot before the other, and a shape-shift right now would be difficult to pull off.
"I'd appreciate that," she said quietly, almost afraid to go near him. As the second moon rose, he was reeking raw sensuality. It wasn't that she didn't trust him; she didn't trust herself at this point.
She closed her eyes as his arms enfolded her, and felt the lift, the slight whir and pressure change, then a soft landing.
"I will take you to the ravine where the barrier is thin," he murmured, his eyes searching hers with a question. "But... I have questions I would like to also ask you. Will you visit for just a while longer? Please."
What could she say to that? Damali nodded against her better judgment and allowed his warm hand to cover hers as he led her inside. She noticed that he'd deposited her on a bench deeper into his cliffside palace than she'd been before, closer to the bed, and she watched him stall for time, changing into a soft white robe, losing the armor and weapon. Her Isis got discarded at her feet as she silently slid it under the bench with the staff. She waited for his return with her pulse racing. She knew she wasn't supposed to be here, like this, but. . .
"May I ask you a personal question, sweet one?" he said, sitting slowly beside her and not leaving her much room for evasion.
"I guess," she shrugged, trying to break eye contact with him. Impossible.
"What do you want for your life? How do you envision it?"
Somewhat stunned, she blinked twice and really had to make her brain work on the last question she'd expected him to ask. "I'm not sure what you mean. I have to be a vampire huntress, Neteru, whatever. That's just the way it is."
"That is not what I am asking. That is a duty. You, nor I, have any additional choice about the call that we have chosen to heed. What I have asked is, what do you want to do with the part of your life that is not already consumed by this responsibility?"
His low, sensual voice rumbled through her belly as she fought to remain centered on his question. His finger traced her temple down to the edge of her jaw, which definitely helped to make the answer fuzzy.
The truth leapt out of her mouth as she stared into his eyes and slowly took in his handsome face. "I don't know, honestly. My life is kinda crazy, and there isn't room in it for all the things I used to want."
"Examples. The past is illuminating. Did the old queens not give you the Sankofa symbol that looks over its shoulder to the past to inform its future?"
The brother was rapping so hard and calm that he was a serious contender for change. At the mention of the tattoo, her back lit with a slow heat.
"Yeah, they did. But lately I feel like I've been looking over my shoulder running from stuff, not being informed by it."
He smiled and traced her collarbone, making her ni**les sting. "The huntress being hunted? That will never do."
"That's how it feels sometimes," she told him honestly, trying to keep from drowning in his eyes.
"Think of the areas in your life beyond the battles," he murmured, the pad of his thumb leisurely stroking her upper arm. "Your music. Your mate. Your home. What makes you laugh? What do you do for enjoyment when not working?"
She almost gasped as the gentle stroke transferred from her arm to the now very wet slit between her legs. "If you want me to give you a thought-filled answer, you have to stop."
He offered her a contrite smile. "My apologies. You are just so incredible that the very male part of me often gets confused in your presence." He pulled his hand away and the ache it left behind was nearly painful. "I really do want to know what is on your mind, Damali. Although it might not appear that way, I am concerned about more than your body."
Now that line, even if it was probably a line, blew her away. She swallowed hard and folded her hands in her lap to keep from touching him. And the way his voice bottomed out when he'd said her name... oh, man, she was in trouble!
"Uh, I don't know how much I've allowed myself to really think about what I've wanted, in all these years. Like, with the music, I didn't want to be a superstar, really. I just wanted to be up on the stage, jammin', giving it, serving the people serious knowledge, music... aw, man, Cain, when I'm up on the stage, it's like, like--"
"Making love," he said on a deep exhale, his voice bottoming out again. "Sweetness, I know."
She stood up and walked around the bench to give herself some air. The passion in her outburst, and the way it had almost knocked his head back--it was time to change the subject. "I love going to the movies, rollerblading, just hanging out, grooving on people, playing cards with the fellas . . ." She stopped and came back to where she'd been sitting and flopped beside him. "But the best part is the kids."
She leaned in toward him, her gaze locked with his, stone serious. "When we go to a rec center, or just out in the neighborhoods, and I see a kid really hearing me, not just mesmerized by the drama of some icon rolling through... ya know. Like, when one of them gets it. Hears me. I can feel it. Like, that one's got potential, no matter who their mom or dad is, no matter what circumstances they're living in, one of 'em got the message--that's what I live for."
He'd stopped breathing for a moment, his eyes blazed silver rimmed in gold. He nodded, stood, and paced away from her to stand behind their bench. "You are vibrationally sensitive to the human condition and want to elevate it. That is pure Light, Damali. Do not allow the battles to keep you from remembering the human condition, from being gentle with it, from returning to it regularly to recharge your spirit."
The conversation was turning them both on too much, but it was the first time anyone had ever asked her what she really wanted. She was drawn to finish it, didn't want to break the connection now. The philosophical exchange was opening new channels of discovery in her mind. But she also had to be careful as she listened to him labor to breathe while he kept his distance.
"That's what I want," she said in a faraway tone, her voice so melancholy that he rounded the bench, sat quickly, and held both her hands.