"Remember Baby" by Damali Richards
Chapter Eight
Carlos watched her walk around the clerics' spartan quarters, noting the way she took everything in. He kept his distance, just to be on the safe side. She had a totally destabilizing effect on him, one that he enjoyed and yet feared. This was not the place, and there was too much heat between them - had always been that way... but not here. He owed the old priests that much respect. But damn she was fine... and he'd missed her so much.
"You wanted to talk," he said quietly. "We need to do that, fast, and get you back where you belong."
She didn't answer him, but went toward the refrigerators. "You need to eat."
He shook his head. "Don't. I don't want you to ever see me do that."
Her hand fell from the door, and her eyes held so much sadness that he had to look away. He folded his arms over his chest, leaned on the door frame, then studied the floor.
"No, don't," she said.
He couldn't take it. She was standing there pitying him, knowing what he was, but still not afraid.
"Say what it is that you couldn't say in front of the others... please. Let's not drag this out."
"Then look at me, so I can," she whispered.
Couldn't she understand that just watching her move in that dress was painful, knowing he couldn't have her... shouldn't. He continued to look away, remembering he was in a clerical safe house, and tried to tell her things that were off the too-hot subject. The situation was beyond ludicrous. He still had shaky borders, and to whisk her away to a lair would put them both at risk to other males until he reestablished his line authority.
"You scared me, girl," he said quietly, his words absolute truth.
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"When I came out from behind the clerics in your compound, if I was someone else, I'd have used them as body shields before you could even throw your weight behind your Isis. While you were trying to pull your blade out of an innocent's chest, you wouldn't have had swing time to come at me again. That's why you have to focus through the pain... even when there's a hard loss, baby. You, of all people, cannot afford to ever go blind. Not doing what you do."
"I know, but I... Going temporarily blind isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me."
He sighed, his gaze now riveted to her. "Yes it is. Ask me how I know." He found a neutral point on the wall that was safe to stare at. "I've put down my own boys... even my brother, D. Buried so many friends... But even while I was still alive, my territory was dangerous, and I couldn't lose focus. It'll change you, no doubt. But that's the only way you can survive this shit. Going blind ain't an option, D."
Her pull was greater than he'd imagined, as she made him look at her again. "I know," he said gently. "We've both lost a part of our hearts to the graves along the way. Regardless. Don't let anybody take you there - not even me."
He shoved away from the place he was leaning and walked deeper into the dining area, just to put more space between them.
"There are so many things we need to discuss, Carlos. If you'll just listen, and stop pushing me away because of what I am."
He let his breath out slowly. She was so naive and still so damned blind it wasn't funny. She didn't even have her Isis on her.
"I'm not blind, anymore," she said quietly, openly reading his thoughts. "I didn't walk through this door naively either. I left my blade for a reason. You're the one that's blind tonight, Carlos. Always have been. That's what's made you vulnerable. Now look at me."
He honored the request against his better judgment, glancing up slowly to allow her gaze to capture his. "Talk to me," he said in a low voice, nervous as hell that she might take him somewhere he couldn't come back from.
Her mouth didn't move. He felt her mind grip his. It wasn't right what she was doing, probing the most erogenous part of him, getting all up in his head until images of laughter and good times created flashes of sensation within him. He was forced to close his eyes. He felt himself smiling as he saw her dancing, dropping a bandanna to start a drag race. "I remember that souped-up Chevy." He laughed as she nodded. "Oh, girl... I miss those times." His voice had become far away and gentle. Please stop.
"I still have it," she murmured. "Kept that old red rag since you gave it to me."
Her admission pleased him beyond measure, then she rocked him with the memory of an argument that entered his mind, stealing the joy, sending a rush of defensive anger through him that was quelled with the touch of her hand on his jaw. He hadn't heard her move toward him. He opened his eyes and saw that she was still across the room. She'd sent the gentle caress from her memory, touching him with her mind - not fair. He nodded. Yeah it was fair, they'd argued from day one about his life, and she'd told him where it would lead... if only he'd listened. Hindsight. Perfect vision.
Carlos sighed. He couldn't argue with her now. It was the truth. Tough, but gentle, that's what she'd always been. Tears filled her eyes as he stared at this woman standing across the room, a vision he couldn't have because of what he was, what he'd become.
But she had mercy in her mind. He heard the beach, waves pounding the shore; smelled salt air chase away the burning rubber and exhaust fumes from the drag race; he saw the sunlight catch her cheek and fire it bronze, red, gold; his finger traced it in the air. Yeah, he remembered that day... when a small thing like a button on her blouse drew his attention. The mental collage she sent was so beautiful, then she put music to it. The last refrain of her slow song from the concert... Remember, baby. His lids slid closed. No, he'd been right. What she was doing to him wasn't fair. This was an outright seduction, and he couldn't do shit about it.
Carlos opened his eyes and looked at her. She moved toward him and stopped so close to him that he could feel the heat rising from her skin.
"When I thought you were gone, I kept those memories of you tucked away to keep me whole," she whispered. "I was so angry at you for allowing yourself to - "