by Cathryn Cade
Pacing nearer, the woman laughed, a musical sound full of amusement. “This is not a vision, Jack Nord. You are awake.”
She sank down, and he saw that a huge chair, like a throne, had been carved out of the gleaming rock. Setting her hands on the arms, she leaned back and regarded him. The glow around her grew brighter, illuminating her face.
She was beautiful, in a sturdy island way. And ageless. A thrill of realization raced through him. “You’re…you’re not human. Not like us.”
“No, haole. Not like you. I am Pele.”
Holy shit. Pele, the patroness of the volcanoes? Now he knew he was hallucinating.
Lalei stirred, and he shifted her on his lap, peering into her face, her lovely features clear in the mysterious fiery light. “Lalei? Wake up, baby,” he urged, pressing his lips to her forehead. “We need to get out of here.”
“She will wake when I tell her to,” Pele said.
Rage fired inside his chest. He didn’t care who she was, Lalei was more important. “You wake her up. She’s not your puppet, not some damn doll. She’s got enough people trying to make her dance to their tune out there.”
Wherever the fuck out there was. He looked around them. He had to figure out a way to get her out of here, to a doctor.
“Jack Nord.” Pele’s voice deepened as if it thundered from the very rock around them. She was glaring at him, no longer amused. “Lalei is mine. One of my ho’omalu, my guardians. She belongs to me, and I care for her as I do all her ohana, her family. I have healed her of the wounds she received protecting my island. Look at her.” She nodded at Lalei, and Jack obeyed.
She was perfect. Her face was clean, her arms and hands unmarred, her breasts and torso and legs golden perfection. He lifted her against his chest and smoothed his hand over her back. It was soft and sleek again, the delicate line of her backbone, the smooth sweep unharmed. He traced the length of her slender arm, stroked her bare thigh, hardly able to believe the evidence of his eyes, his hands.
Emotion choked him, and he clenched his jaw against a sob that tried to force its way out of his throat. “So–” He had to try again. He lifted his head and looked at the goddess, or patroness, or whatever she was. “So she’s going to be all right? She’s going to wake up and be fine?”
Pele inclined her head regally. “I swear it.”
He nodded, relief like a wave swamping him. “So…why are we here?”
She cocked her head, her gaze full of wisdom and amusement. “Why are you here, haole?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to retort that he was here because she’d shanghaied him, given him no choice. But then he gazed down at the woman sleeping in his arms, her head lying trustingly in the curve of his shoulder, her nude body cradled against his. The way he’d needed her to be, back there at the house, while Homu and Daniel and that crazy Lenny Liho’o chanted over her.
“Because…she’s mine.” He recoiled in shock as the words left his mouth. “I mean, I-I love her.”
The realization flooded him, along with joy and understanding. He did—he loved her. Not sure how it had happened in the short time he’d known her, but it had.
Then he shook his head, hopelessness settling over him as he looked down at the perfect woman in his arms.
“Except I don’t deserve her,” he choked out, forcing himself to face Pele. “I’m a-a drunk.”
“Ah,” the goddess breathed solemnly. “Then you must change until you do deserve her.”
“What if I can’t?”
“What if you can?” She beckoned imperiously. “Come here, Jack Nord.”
Rising off his heels, Jack knee-walked the few feet to the foot of her throne, moving slowly with Lalei in his arms. It should have been awkward as hell, but instead the chamber was full of solemn, hushed thunder, as if the mountain itself was alive with power around them.
Instinctively, Jack bowed his head. As light as a feather, as heavy as the mountain, Pele’s hand settled on his head.
“Because you belong to one of my ho’omalu,” she said. “Because you are a good man, I give you my blessing. If you will accept it. May you have the strength to do what you must, and the courage to do what you can.”
She lifted her hand away. “Now go,” she commanded. “Take my ho’omalu back to her people. And take good care of her.”
Jack levered himself to his feet. “I will. And…mahalo.” For whatever she’d done. He wasn’t sure. He felt as if he’d been blessed and challenged at the same time. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
Pele nodded, but she looked him in the eye. “I cannot heal what ails you, haole. Only our Creator can. And only you will choose which path to walk.”
He nodded. That was fine with him, as long as Lalei was going to be all right. He felt stronger, better than he had in months.
“Uh, how do we get out of here?”
She shook her head, her hair crackling around her. “You men, always so impatient. Follow the tunnel. It will lead you back.” She waved her hand toward the passage. Then her ebony gaze flicked down over his body, a lascivious glint in her smile. “Or you could stay with me.”
“Ah. Mahalo, but I don’t think I could handle you,” he said, grinning back at her. “This one’s going to be more than enough woman for me.”
Her laughter followed them into the darkness.
Then everything faded around them again. Jack knew a moment of panic, but then he shrugged mentally and gave in to it. The power of the islands was not to be denied.
“Jack. Jack, wake up, man. Time to get back to Nawea.”
Jack forced his eyes open, lifting his head from where he’d been resting his cheek on Lalei’s silky hair. Daniel leaned over him, his hand on Jack’s shoulder, his eyes concerned.
He held out his arms. “Here, I’ll take her.”
“No.” Jack’s arms tightened around Lalei. He peered down into her pale, dirty face. “No, I got her.”
He scooted to the edge of the old sofa. It creaked alarmingly under him, but he got his feet under him and stood, cradling Lalei carefully against his chest. He felt much better, his strength restored.
He had her, now and for as long as he could.
Chapter Sixteen
When Lalei woke, the first thing she saw was the shifting shadows of leaves in sunlight on the ceiling over her head. She stared and then frowned, wondering what on earth she was doing in bed during the day—again. This was getting to be a habit. Was she ill? No, something else…something had happened.
She froze as memories flooded her mind. Riding up through the night, summoning the power of the storm, then an explosion that had knocked her backward like a bomb, into the blackness. She had used her ho’omalu powers to wreak destruction.
Feeling the weight of someone’s gaze upon her, she turned her head cautiously on her pillow to find Jack sitting beside her bed, his brooding gaze on her. Jack. Joy flooded her—he was safe. She hadn’t involved him this time.
She peered more closely at him. Something was wrong. His blue eyes were shadowed. She remembered now—he was angry with her. Disgusted. Because he knew what she was? Or because he thought her a shallow socialite.
She closed her eyes, a familiar ache building behind her eyelids.
Then his warm hand enclosed hers. He lifted her right arm off the bed. His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand. Turning her hand in his, he looked at her.
“You have tattoos,” he said. His voice was gravelly, as if he hadn’t used it for hours. “On both hands.”
She lifted her other hand, examining it with wonder. A delicate tattoo marked each hand, across the back just below her knuckles. Dread followed—now he would know what she was.
Jack brushed her hair aside from her shoulder and touched her there. “Got one on your shoulder too.”
Guilt knotted her stomach, and she clenched her hands to keep from pulling the covers up and hiding under them. “I know,” she whispered.
He stared at her from under his
heavy blond brows. He shook his head once, an odd light in his gaze.
She sat up, unable to lie still. “Are you—do you—” She fumbled for words, unable to ask him what she most needed to know.
She took a deep breath and drew dignity about her like a feathered cape. “I need a shower. Then we’ll talk.”
As she moved off the bed, she realized she’d been lying on a large, stained towel that covered the pillow and most of the bottom sheet. She was also naked. Whatever, he’d seen it before.
“Sure you should be up?” he asked, standing.
“I feel fine. Great, in fact.”
Staring him down, she stood up and turned with a defiant twist, walking away across the bedroom to the bathroom, where she slammed the door behind her, and scowled at it.
The door burst open behind her, and Jack stood there, his eyes wild. He reached for her, turning her away from him again. His hands tightened on her shoulders. His hands were shaking.
“You—you’ve got them on your back too,” he said. “Jesus, Lalei—last night, you were a bloody mess, but then your skin was unmarked. I saw you. Now you have these.”
She twisted in his grip, staring over her shoulder at herself in the mirror. She gasped. It was true. A skein of native tattoos twisted from her left shoulder, across her back and down in a graceful spray. “Oh my God,” she managed. Oh Pele.
She’d known, of course, that her cousins’ glorious native tattoos had not been done in any tattoo parlor. They were badges of honor, given by their patroness Pele, guardian of these islands. They took the place of scars, covering wounds gained in battle to protect her islands.
Even Bella had them now. She’d been shot, would have perished from her wounds had she not been healed by Pele. Hers were much more delicate than the Ho’omalus males, like these.
But Lalei had never expected to have the tattoos herself. She’d rushed headlong into battle, giving no thought to the possibility. Of course she would still have done it, no question there.
She noticed her face and hair for the first time, and grimaced in disgust. She was covered in mud, and was that dried blood in her hair? She stank. With an exclamation of horror, she dove into the shower and turned the water on hot. She pulled on the door, but it wouldn’t close.
“You gonna follow me in here too?” she demanded, her lip trembling. She bit it and turned away as sudden tears welled up, streaming down her face with the water.
Jack said nothing, and she could hear only the water rushing over her head, so she flinched in surprise as a large, naked male body brushed against hers, the shower door thudding closed behind him. He reached past her, and then she felt his hands in her hair, massaging shampoo into the wet mass.
Lalei stood there weeping helplessly but needing his touch desperately, too much to push him away and salvage her pride. He tipped her head back and turned her toward him, smoothing the lather from her hair with gentle fingers. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, moving closer to her so that she was surrounded by the curve of his arms, his body a bulwark against the world outside.
When the shampoo was gone, her hair sleeked back, Jack tipped her face up with his big hands and kissed her, his mouth soft and warm and wet. She opened her eyes to find him gazing into her eyes, still somber but with a deep well of emotion behind them, one she was nearly afraid to examine.
“Yesterday,” he said. “When you said you were staying here instead of going to the hospital, I thought you just didn’t care about Melia and the baby. But instead, you were already planning to go up there all alone, and…do whatever the hell you did, weren’t you?”
She nodded, wary.
He smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks, shaking his head once, the way he did so often with her. More tears fell, trickling around his thumbs. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I don’t understand any of this,” he said, his wet face so handsome she trembled, but his azure gaze full of turmoil. “I always knew the Ho’omalus were a little different, but this is…outside my haole experience.”
“So, now you know I’m a freak,” she said, sniffling defiantly. “Different than your California women, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he agreed, the ghost of a smile on his beautiful mouth. He reached around her again, a washcloth in his hands this time, daubed with shower gel.
“Different.” He pressed the cloth to her shoulder and began to wash her with slow, careful circles.
“Crazier.” More washing, down the length of her arm and over the back of her hand, holding it before him as if it were precious, delicate.
“More aggravating.” Up her side and over her breasts, his eyes following his task.
“Smarter.” Her other arm now, and she felt something bob against her belly—his cock, wet and warm.
“Sexier.” The washcloth slipped down over her belly and between her thighs. He gazed into her eyes as he washed her carefully, seeming to pay no attention to the fact that she was crying again.
“More beautiful.” The washcloth slid slowly down her back and across her ass cheeks, then between them, tickling, inciting, caressing. “And may your Pele help me, the only wahine I want.”
With a sob of sheer relief and joy, she threw her arms up around him, holding on as he lifted her up against him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he began.
She shut him up by kissing him, hard. “Yes. Jack, I need you.”
He groaned, one hand under her ass to support her as he positioned his cock with the other and then flexed his hips, driving himself up inside her.
She cried out into his mouth with the joy of being filled with him, of being held in his arms and kissed as if she were the most delicious, most desirable wahine he’d ever tasted, while he moved his hips, rocking into her, fucking her hard and fast.
“Oh, baby,” he groaned. “Lock your feet behind my ass, oh yeah, just like that. Ah, fuck, yeah. Hang on to me…”
Lalei kissed him and then hung on, pressing her wet face to his as he took her as only he could, pouring sweet, dirty words in her ear. She came with a scream of pleasure because she knew it drove him wild, and because she couldn’t help herself.
Afterward, they dried each other off, with careful attention to detail, and then he held her for a moment, his forehead against hers. “I thought I’d lost you. I don’t see how I could live with that.”
She gazed into his blue, blue eyes. “I know the feeling.”
“Yeah?”
“Aloha au Ia’oe, Jack Nord.”
His gaze heated, his hand cupping the side of her face. “I like the sound of that, wahine. You can give me a complete translation later, and I’ll answer. But, as much as I’d love to continue our language lesson, you’ve got people waiting on you.”
“I do?” She didn’t really care. When she’d just admitted to herself and him that she was hopelessly in love with him, she wanted to hear it back. In Hawaiian or English or his California Native American—she didn’t care which. She put her hands on his chest, smoothing them down over his hard abs, just to feel him tremble and lean into her touch.
He groaned. “Your family is waiting for you.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped, remembering. “What time is it? We’re supposed to be in court.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s okay. This afternoon. We’ll fly over in the chopper.”
She blew out a breath of relief. They had time, then.
“How about you?” She combed his wet hair with her fingers, smoothing down the rebellious lock in front. “Are you…here for me?”
“I am,” he said. He winced. “Lalei, I’m so sorry, baby. For what I said to you yesterday. I—you hit me in my damn ego, that’s why. It’s not an excuse, because there is no damn excuse. I was an asshole. Forgive me?” He looked into her eyes at last, his full of raw pleading.
“I forgive you, Jack. Anyway, you could’ve been right, you know? I might have gone down that road if it wasn’t for you.”
He smoothed her hair back from her ears, tuck
ing it carefully behind them. “Yeah, speaking of roads—paths, whatever. Baby, something happened.”
“What?” she prodded. He had the oddest look in his eyes, as if he was remembering something incredible.
He shook his head, smiling crookedly at her. “I, ah…I saw her. Pele.”
She gasped, shocked. “You did? What happened?”
As he told her how the two of them had been transported from Lenny Liho’o’s shack to Pele’s chamber, she listened raptly.
“So we have her blessing,” she breathed, beaming at him.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But, baby, there’s a lot going on in both our lives—”
Her eyes narrowed. “As long as we’re good—you and me. Or are you going to do another ‘I’m here in body but not in spirit’ thing on me?”
His eyes filled with turbulence, like the storm clouds she summoned. “You’re good—you’re perfect. Me? I’m not sure.”
She grasped his arm as he turned away. “Jack, it doesn’t matter to me. If that’s why you were so…distant yesterday.”
“It should matter,” he said, and she would have held on to him, but his whole stance was so stiff, so full of pain, she could only watch, stunned by the realization that this wonderful, caring man truly believed his one flaw made him unworthy of her.
“Come on, baby,” he said. “You need to eat, and there’s more news.”
All right, she’d let him evade her for now. But later, he was going to realize that she wasn’t letting him go—not after this.
Breakfast was laid out in the kitchen, as usual. Lalei found herself delighted by the ordinariness of pouring a glass of sweet, tart orange-guava juice, of filling a bowl with Leilani’s crunchy, homemade granola and adding plump chunks of banana, papaya and mango. Of nodding when Jack offered to pour her coffee. She had traveled close to the boundaries of this world and the next, and she was deeply grateful to be back.
The Ho’omalus were gathered en masse on the beach, with the morning sunlight pouring over the mountain. Lalei knew a momentary urge to hide behind Jack. But she straightened her shoulders proudly as she walked onto the lanai. She’d deliberately chosen a skimpy white tank to wear with her short skirt. She wasn’t going to hide her tattoos—any of them.