Soul Awakened

by Jean Murray

  “You are given a name you do not deserve,” the warrior sneered and then spit in Bakari’s face. “You are not worthy to be among us with your silver eyes and pale skin.”

  Bakari wiped the slime from his face. Spit and blood mixed together in his palm. He almost wished he could crawl in his sarcophagus. The scorpions were smarter than this Neanderthal. “Are you finished? Can we get back to the ass beating, because I cannot stand the smell of your breath,” Bakari taunted.

  The crowd grew silent a moment before the hall erupted in laughter. With teeth bared the senior warrior charged and wrapped two thick arms around Bakari’s chest. Bakari slammed into the old cot. An explosion of wood splinters erupted around them. A folly of punches landed with penetrating accuracy to Bakari’s face and abdomen. Finally, the warrior rolled off. “Get up.”

  Bakari struggled to rise onto his hands and knees, barely able to support his own weight. His pain had finally registered as unbearable.

  The warrior smiled. “Well, it is about time.” He slammed his foot into Bakari’s side and rolled him onto his back.

  Splayed on the floor, Bakari blinked away the blood that dripped from the large gash above his eye. His pain gave way to numbness and fogginess muddled his brain. He rolled his head to the side, hoping he would lose consciousness. Instead of a tunnel of darkness collapsing around him, a flash of green flickered in his line of sight.

  His reminder.

  He wanted his nightmare to end, but a beautiful woman had his life tethered to it. The consequence of his own fear. His own weakness. The hill he had to climb— too steep. It required significant energy to even think about getting up again. He had been at this place once before – despair drowning any hope he may have. Where was his Parvana now? His uncle said to find his honor. How the hell do you do that when you cannot stand to live another minute?

  “Well, well. What do we have here?” The large warrior leaned over and picked up the cylinder shaped object. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Mmm, smells like a woman. Where did you get this fledgling?”

  “Give it to me,” Bakari hissed.

  “So you can speak, fledgling. I was getting worried.” The warriors laughed.

  “Give it to him, Haji.” Sin pushed his way back into the ring.

  “Shut up, Sin. You should know your place. If you have forgotten, I’ll be happy to remind you.” Haji shoved Sin into the hands of two waiting warriors. Sin elbowed one in the face.

  Bakari rose to his feet with a sudden rush of strength. The flush of heat entered his muscles. A smoldering fire boiled his blood from within. As if the warrior held Kendra in his hands, Bakari’s possessive rage thrust through his last reserves. Weakness and fatigue melted away, bleeding a fury that he could not control.

  “Give it to me,” Bakari roared.

  Two of the five stepped in between him and Haji. “Come and get it, fledgling.”

  Bakari’s vision flooded red. A simple thought would kill them all, but what fun would that be. Haji would learn when it came to Kendra, no one would stop him. The inanimate object was all he had left of her. However little, it mattered to him. He lived for her alone.

  With a dark energy flooding his muscles, Bakari clenched and unclenched his hands. He would make them pay.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Odd, the feeling of such strength from a simple and innocent connection.

  Kendra walked quietly with Bomani’s hand engulfing hers. She drew solace from it, but it also made her nervous. Kit had said he had feelings for her. With her brain so scrambled, she didn’t know what she wanted, but the need for comfort negated any attempt to pull her hand away.

  Despite the warmth of his touch, the ache in her chest had grown. Worry set her heart a flutter. What if it was Bakari’s pain? What was he doing? Did he need help? She clamped her eyes shut in the hopes to stop the volley of questions in her head. The instant she closed her eyes a multitude of horrible possibilities flashed through her mind like pages in a graphic novel. Would Bakari turn on her and his family? Would he succeed in killing himself and taking her along with him? Would she drop to the ground any minute or take her last breath?

  “Kendra.” Bomani’s smooth voice broke the torrid of visions. She opened her eyes and stared at the door to her quarters. When had they fixed the latch?

  The weight of the events of the past week and heck the past five years came crashing upon her at that moment. Her breath quickened and tears clouded her vision. The ache in her chest exploded with such force, she envisioned her heart ripping in half. Everything that she had stuffed away in that dark corner of her brain burst like an overwhelmed dam, opening the flood gates of sorrow and despair.

  “Easy. It is going to be okay,” Bomani said, as he knelt beside her.

  She shook and sobbed uncontrollably. Her legs buckled under the weight of her depression. She crumpled against Bomani’s chest. His warm arms gathered her tight against him. Grateful, she wrapped her arms around his torso, seeking something to fill the void inside her heart. Anything to stop the pain and grief.

  Although her breathing slowed and the tears dried, the emptiness remained. She leaned her forehead against his chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Bomani pulled back, but didn’t let go of her. His rough fingers brushed the tangle of curls stuck to her cheek. A mix of compassion and worry flickered in his gold eyes. “You of all people have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I really don’t mean to direct all my hysterics at you.” She wiped her cheeks dry.

  “Like I said before, I am here for you.”

  A small amount of coldness bled away from her heart. She absently traced the line of his scarification tattoo through his shirt. Finally, she looked him directly in the eyes, so he could see her sincerity. “You are a good man with a good heart.”

  “I am glad you think so.”

  Kendra got lost somewhere between the tone of his spoken words and the darkening of desire she saw in his eyes. Bomani wanted her, unlike Bakari. Seeking something other than pain, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. She pulled away after the brief contact, but only a fraction. She wanted to forget all that had happened and distract herself from the sting of Bakari’s rejection.

  Bomani hesitated, but then reconnected with a deeper longer kiss. Warmth swept through her. The graphic what if pictures faded from her consciousness. She closed her eyes and savored his hungry kiss. Her reality evaporated into a mist of gray, leaving only the throb in her chest.

  The only painful reminder that she was in love with someone else.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Bakari clasped his cherished prize in the palm of his hand. He painstakingly wiped away the blood staining the flashlight handle. His welcoming party lay in heaps upon the ground. Not a complete heathen, he at least let them live. He blinked a few times to clear the blood that had spattered into his eyes. Whether his own or the warriors he did not know or care. What mattered, he recovered his focal point.

  Disregarding the silent stares from the legion warriors, he kicked away the broken cot frame and flipped the mattress onto the floor. With a draw of energy into his body he extinguished the torch overhead. Peace. Quiet. Darkness.

  Sin sat on his mattress across from him. After the crowd dispersed, his bunkmate broke the silence. “Watching you fight triggered a tomb full of repressed memories in this mental soup.” Sin tapped his temple. “I have been told by other warriors that we retain the memories of our fallen brothers when we are remade from their souls.”

  Bakari pinched the brig of his nose. Fate had bunked him next to a chatter box. Would his punishment ever end?

  Sin continued despite Bakari’s warning glare. “Makes us easier to train supposedly, but it also leaves us with nightmares. How messed up is that? I wake up screaming like baby every night. Believe me, I feel like sissy.”

  “Do you want to know what my nightmare is?”

  Refusing to be goaded,
Bakari flopped his forearm over his swollen and bloody eyes.

  “I am on the battlefield of Thebes being crushed by this enormous, stinky, gods ugly Minotaur.” Sin shook his head and wiped the beaded sweat from his brow. “In the dream I can feel my bones snapping and my chest crushing. The pain is so real I vomit in my sleep.”

  Sin chuckled. “And then I see my angel. Beautiful. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Wicked body. She kisses me on the forehead and I forget all my pain. Somehow I know everything will be okay.”

  Bakari moved his arm and cracked an eyelid. His bunkmate’s gaze shimmered and he cleared his throat. “Well, anyways. When I woke up here, I was out of my mind. Insanely messed up, but then I saw my angel again. Here.” He laughed and shook his head. “The Lord’s mate, no less. That’s when I knew.”

  Bakari sat up when the warrior did not finish. Inextricably drawn to Sin’s story, not dissimilar to his own. “That’s when you knew, what?”

  The warrior’s golden gaze settled on him. His smile retained satisfaction with his discovery. “They are here to give hope to those that have none. To save us from ourselves.”

  Bakari swallowed against the constriction in his throat. A single tear slid down his cheek. He caressed the cold metal of the flashlight. The Mother Goddess sent Kendra to save his soul. He wondered if it was the will of a god that coaxed him into binding Kendra’s soul to him, ensuring his survival for without her he would be dead.

  Sin lay with his hands tucked behind his head. He glanced at the green metal cylinder in Bakari’s hands. “Hope can be found in the strangest places. It is worth fighting for.”

  Hope?

  Bakari gripped the thin metal lantern in his palm. So fragile. So easily taken away, but it was as good a place to start as any.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Bomani fell into complete and utter oblivion in Kendra’s sweet kiss. He had to force himself to pull away and break the spell. It was wrong of him to take advantage of this situation. Her vulnerability and erratic emotions flowed off of her in crashing waves. If he was a lesser man she would be beneath him by now. Innocence lost.

  “Kendra,” he said barely above a growl. She leaned forward again and captured him in another kiss. He did not refuse her demands, but kept his eyes open, watching. Her brows furrowed into deep lines to match the pain she must be feeling. It screamed desperation. He closed his eyes again and tried to deny she was kissing him for any other reason. Her hands that slipped under his shirt trembled almost violently.

  “Stay with me,” she whispered against his lips.

  He groaned and pulled her tighter to his chest. He wanted her, but not like this. This was not Kendra. She would never be this aggressive and would regret her actions in the morning.

  Damn the gods.

  He kissed her hard one last time before he pulled away.

  “No,” she protested and tried to pull herself back in.

  He grasped her thin bicep and held her in place. “Kendra.”

  She struggled against his grasp, anger morphing her features. “Why? Am I not pretty enough? Because I’m a… a virgin?”

  The anguish in her voice about knocked him over. “It is not any of those.” She was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen, even in her manic state. He could only guess it was a result of Bakari’s state of mind bleeding over their blood-bond. The physical separation would not garner this response, only an emotional one. The possibility that Bakari and her shared more than mutual concern made his blood run cold. His brother had never shown the level of control or respect for a female as he did Kendra.

  “I want you, but not like this. Listen, this is not you. In the right frame of mind, you would not want this. Not like this. Not now.”

  “How do you know what I want?”

  “I do not want to be the object of your regret. This thing between us, hell, I am just getting use to the idea.” He could not believe the words that came next. “Let us take this slow. There is no rush.” Lies, all of them. He needed a dunk in the cold river after this. She needed to settle from her emotional and physical trauma. There was the little issue of her bond with Bakari. Deny as she may, there was more between her and Bakari than blood.

  Bomani cursed in his head. For once in his life, he wanted to take what he wanted, consequences be damned. He was sick and tired of his brother getting in the way.

  The energy of her anger flip flopped to fear, anxiety, sorrow, and back again. With wild eyes she jammed her fingers into her hair and fisted her hands. “I feel like I’m out of my mind.” With labored breath she turned to leave. “I need to get out of here. I want to go home.” She jogged down the hallway and stopped at the intersecting hallways. Whipping her head around, she took a few steps in one direction and then turned and headed the other direction. Bomani jogged after her and grasped her arm.

  Kendra whirled around and struck him. “Get your hands off me,” she hissed.

  Bomani backed off a step. “You need to calm down. Let us go back to your room. You need to rest.” He held out his hand for her to take.

  She slapped it away. “Get away from me.” Her voice boomed off the surrounding sandstone. “I want to leave this place. I hate it here.”

  The door at the far end of the hall opened and Asar stepped out. Bomani threw up his hands beseeching some assistance from his Sire. “Did you hear me?” She screamed, her eyes wild with panic. She dashed the long corridor trying to open the doors on either side. He stopped midway, knowing she had nowhere else to go.

  “Kendra,” he begged and followed her. He looked over his shoulder. Servants had filled the hallway at the sound of the commotion. Asar stepped up beside him.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  The sound of Kendra’s screams pierced his eardrums, and worse, his heart. Bomani winced. He had never seen her so unraveled. “Honestly? I think it is the damn blood-bond.”

  Asar shot his gaze toward Kendra. “Isis.” He turned and bellowed at the spectators. “Get back to your rooms.” His father took a few steps toward Kendra. “You need to calm yourself, little one. We are here to help you.”

  “I don’t need your fucking help. I want to get the hell out of this place.”

  Bomani raised his eyebrows and met Asar’s gaze. Kendra never spoke an ill word to anyone, let alone use cuss words.

  “Let us get her back to her room,” Asar said.

  “How do you propose we do that? She will not let me near her.”

  “Leave that up to me.” Asar stalked forward wasting no time. One touch of his finger to her skin and she collapsed into his chest. Her reddish brown curls fanned out in all directions.

  The picture of her almost lifeless in Asar’s arms kindled his already smoldering anger toward Bakari.

  She didn’t deserve this, of all people.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  After what had happened earlier in the week Kendra was convinced she would become some catatonic crazy person. Her cheeks flushed remembering how she acted. Worse, she had watched it play out in first person and there was nothing she could do to stop it, except be the stock raving lunatic.

  “Kendra, this works best if you try to clear your mind. No one thinks any less of you because of what happened,” Inpu said while he brushed her hair from her forehead. The spot where he laid his palm tingled.

  She let out an exasperated breath and closed her eyes again. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Blood-bonds have never been established in a human before which makes the side effects very unpredictable. You have been placed under an extraordinary amount of stress both physically and emotionally.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she conceded. “I’m feeling better than I did yesterday.” In fact, she had lost the last white strands of hair and the color returned to her skin. Self-healing, Inpu had said. The priest had spent the last few days teaching her how to channel her energy inward, visualizing balance and serenity. She needed a huge dose of both right now because she was still
furious at Bakari.

  “Yes. I am embarrassed to say that what you have done in two days took me five.”

  She opened one eye to look at the priest, who sat cross legged. Her position mirrored his with their knees touching. “Five days?”

  “Five years. You have amazing talent, Kendra.” He dropped his hand and shook it. “The blood-bond is incredibly strong. I dare say it is rejecting my interventions.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “It is not my place to ask this, nor do I want to embarrass you in any way, but were you intimate with Bakari?”

  He said in such a matter of fact tone, no judgment. Her face normally would have brazened red considering it was another male asking if she had sex, but she felt oddly at ease with this god. She met his gentle brown eyes. “No. When I spent the night, we slept. It didn’t go further than that.” Rubbing her temple she sighed again.

  “I apologize for bringing the subject up, but I am trying to understand the circumstances of the spell Kepi used. Even the bond I have with my dearest Nebt does not compare and we are full-blooded gods. It may be your dormant powers that are having the effect, amplifying the bond in some way.”

  Kendra fidgeted with the tassel on her robe. “Do you think I will go crazy again? I don’t think I can handle any more embarrassment.”

  “You are not crazy, Kendra. Bakari’s instability is reverberated across the bond. You were unprepared for its affects. I am sorry I did not prepare you sufficiently before it happened.”

  “It’s not your fault.” It’s Bakari’s.

  “No, but as your mentor it is my responsibility to train you.”

  “You and Nebt have been so kind.” She had been so rude to Nebt in the library. “Thank you.”

  “It is our honor to serve the Mother Goddess’ children.” The priest smiled and knuckled his chest in the same manner as she incessantly had been doing since Bakari’s departure for the warrior camp.