"Hey," he said, coming to her to cradle her face. "I love you, all right. You haven't been feeling good. I want you to feel better-that's my number one priority. Everything else can wait."
"Yeah . . . but . . ."
He kissed the bridge of her nose."Yeah, but what?" He pulled back so she'd look at him. "I waited five years for you before, what's waiting till a little morning sicknesspasses ?"
He smiled; she smiled.
"It's been morning, noon, and night sickness, though, Carlos . . . and-"
"And you know how I am-go 'head, say it, 'cause I know that's what you were going to say." He gave her a lopsided smile, even though he was feigning outright indignation. The combination made her laugh and he released her face and hugged her off her feet. "Like, where am I going, huh? My wife carries a blade and don't play."
She pushed at his shoulders, laughing harder."Will kick your butt.Got me all knocked up and acting crazy. You'd better not leave me."
"Ain't going nowhere and can wait till you feel better," he said, burying his face against her neck to kiss it gently. He set her down on her feet and allowed his hands to slide over her shoulders in a gentle sweep.
"I'm gonna try to do better so you don't have to deal with nine months of this mess. Damn I'm hungry . . . but I don't know what I want."
"It's cool," he said, quietly surveying her. "I signed up for this tour of duty, so you just tell me what you feel like you have a taste for and I'll go bring it home."
"Salty-it's gotta be salty," she said emphatically."Sesame seeds and salty . . . with like, lots of soy sauce. You know that vegan place that does the soy chicken stir-fry with sesame seeds . . . and they make the vegetables crunchy-they don't overcook them."
"I'm on it," he said, heading toward the door. Suddenly he wanted to hunt something, wanted to expend lots of energy on a quest to feed her. He could have transported anything she desired into the kitchen, but his body needed to move. She'd ignited something very primal within him that was reminiscent of his old life, and that was also a little disturbing.
"No, wait," she said, waving a hand stained orange from barbecue flavoring."Tahini. That's the taste. Falafel with lots and lots of tahini on it . . . that's the sesame seed and soy taste, I think, and the garlicky, grainy, other thingies in it that I want-the chickpeas." She closed her eyes and ate another chip. "Yeah, in a thick, warm pita wrap."
He gave her a brief nod. "I'll be right back."
She opened her eyes, looking confused. Her suddenly serious expression and knit brow said it all; she was obviously wondering why he was going to the trouble of physically leaving the house to go get her grub. But he couldn't explain the complex emotions coursing through him right now. Profound knowing slammed into his mind with each footstep as he crossed the great hall, and then crossed the marble foyer and opened the oak French doors. Bright early morning sunlight met him, but he knew that the darkside would never stop coming for them, and with each passing week, it would be harder and harder for Damali to hide the fact that she was pregnant-then what?
Even though he remembered what Adam and Ausar had said, the Neteru Kings telling him not to worry, how was he supposed to do anythingbut worry? The fact that he was so twisted up in knots pissed him off. Panicking was not an option; it was the best way to tip his hand, show the other side vulnerability, andthat was definitely not an option.
He had to remember that serious hallowed ground that not even daywalkers could breach protected his wife and the rest of the team. All of them had been under self-imposed house arrest since they'd returned from Greece. He had to remember that they'd reinforced the compound with silver, holy water, protective prayer barriers, and every conceivable anti-demon technology available. He had to remember that the darkside was blind to this location, as were their human helpers, courtesy of a little Divine intervention by the angels. Then it dawned on him . . . why was he worrying so much? Was he poisoned?
More than anything at the moment, however, he needed todrive, needed to move, needed to break through his own fears and reenter the world-the restored silver Bugatti was Damali's sweet, sweet thing, but the gleaming red Saleen S7 in the garage was his precious. Fuck all this lying low. That was never his style, dead or alive.
Carlos rounded the garden pathway to the garage, preferring to enter it that way rather than by going through the entire house to enter the spacious carport. His head felt like it was about to explode, and he didn't know why. Worry was one thing, but this was something much more intense.
Salt, she wanted salt. The baby was building blood volume in the first trimester. It was a fact that anyone could read online or in a parenting magazine article while sitting in a doctor's waiting room. But a very old part of him sensed it, perhaps worse, he'd literally smelled it . . . the minute changes in the hormone concentrations in her blood . . . in the baby's blood. Maybe that was what was freaking him out-if he could still smell that acutely after no longer being a full vampire, what could very old councilmen pick up in the hundredths of particles per billion coursing through his wife's veins? Lilith would know . . . her husband would know-then it would be on.
Sesame seeds.Damali had said she had a taste for sesame seeds. Carlos wrested his mind away from the brink of an outright panic attack as he walked. Sesame seeds were chockful of nutrients, especially those that fed a growing baby's brain. He punched in the code and impatiently waited for the long garage door to open.
What he couldn't understand was,where did the sudden kill-rush come from?
Carlos walked between the lines of custom-kitted parked vehicles and then opened the butterfly door on his red racer. His S7 had been put back together lovely after all the body damage she'd sustained in Death Valley, just like Damali's Bugatti had. Rider's boys from the Arizona Guardian team had done a fantastic job.
Remembering the run-in with Fallon Nuit almost made him snarl as he slid against the butter soft leather interior, yanked the door closed, and gripped the steering wheel. Yeah, now he knew why he'd wanted to kill something-just thinking about what had happened to Heather on the back of Dan's bike that night sent a chill through him. Damali couldn't miscarry again, and at the same time, as her belly grew, the harder it would be for Heather . . . maybe even for Juanita, who desperately wanted a child, too. There was so much bullshit to think about it was making his mind crazy.
"Damn!" Carlos started the engine and shifted the gears hard, peeling out of the garage. Driving with one hand, he leaned over and popped open the glove compartment to pull out his sunglasses, hurriedly put them on, and pushed them up the bridge of his nose. If they wanted to play . . . and this time, if they hurt her, there'd be no redemption for him. Yeah, he and old Lu could go one-on-one till the end of time and blow up half the planet-but he was not going down without a fight or be held hostage to fear.
Speed was his demon at the moment, the one he wanted to conquer right now. It was easy to blind police radar guns as he took the scenic route at a hundred-and-ten miles per hour. The vehicle handled like a rocket and didn't even start to vibrate as the speedometer crept to one-eighty with a bullet. It was pure engineering genius.
Carlos focused on the desolate road, his senses sweeping the terrain for bikers, other drivers, deer, and morning trucker traffic, anything that could flip his car or be killed by it. Five miles out from his destination, he backed the S7 down to a reasonable suburban speed. But he'd had to get the rush out of his system first.
Adrenaline sweat had made his T-shirt cling to his back. A deep burgundy V formed a pattern in the crimson T-shirt. Carlos glanced in the rearview mirror as he brought the S7 to a purring stop. A noticeable, intense silver glare showed through his dark lenses and a hint of fang had begun to crest in his mouth. He had to pull it together-what the hell was wrong with him? He definitely couldn't go into the small diner like this. Coming out of the compound had been a really bad idea, but after weeks of being cooped up, he'd needed this run.
Summoning calm before he opened the car door, Carlos allowed his forehead to rest against the steering wheel. He'd actually wanted to do battle with Lucifer-was he outta his damned mind?Had actually, for a moment, felt that old vampire urge to bring his woman a feeding kill. Had felt so many old bad habits coming at him that he'd thought for a moment he'd smother in them all.
"Help me, God," he murmured with his eyes tightly shut. "What's wrong with me?"