Beautiful Salvation

by Jennifer Blackstream

  She led Saamal away from her parents, out the door and around the palace to the extensive gardens. They were both silent as the sound of her mother’s sobs faded behind them, muffled by the labyrinth of roses and ceiba trees. She tried to put her mother’s tears out of her mind, clearing her head so she could begin to comb through the tangled mess of thoughts fighting for dominance. Everything had seemed so simple in the forest. Had it all been a foolish dream? Had she been simple-minded to think that it would be so easy to bring Saamal to her parents, that they might all work together to find a solution?

  “I was wrong.”

  Saamal’s serious voice pulled Aiyana out of her thoughts and she gratefully grasped at the thread of conversation—a lifeline out of the quagmire of her doubts. “What?”

  “I was wrong. I never should have demanded your hand.” Saamal paused to finger the velvety rose petals of one of the blooms, touching it like it was something sacred.

  Aiyana took his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, feeling a sudden desire to bask in their connection, the shared energy that flowed between them every time they touched. “My father is upset, as any father would be at the thought of his daughter leaving him. He—”

  “My apology has nothing to do with your father,” Saamal interrupted, lingering anger tightening his words. “He is a father, but he is also a king. He made a pact when he took up that crown. Breaking that pact was a violation of the trust put in him by the people, and by the land itself. He—”

  Saamal stopped and took a deep breath. “I apologize.” He took his hand from the flower and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What’s done is done, and now is not the time for such conversations. What I meant was that I should have asked you for your hand. You are a princess, you deserve a proper proposal.”

  Aiyana raised her eyebrows, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Indeed?”

  Saamal gave her a half smile. “I told you before that all sacrifices offered to Cipactli were willing. The sacrifices were part of a pact, and they were necessary for the good of the land and its people, but I have never demanded anyone give their life. The prophecy told me that marrying you would bring me power, and I believe that empowering myself will in turn empower my land and my people. But demanding your hand in marriage is no different than demanding a sacrifice.” He cleared his throat. “I was wrong to take what should have been freely given.”

  “Very true.” Aiyana cleared her throat and gestured for him to sit with her at the foot of her favorite tree. The high roots provided the perfect space to nestle into, large enough to fit them both, and the flaming red flowers on the broad canopy offered shade from the sun growing hotter by the hour. She settled against Saamal’s side and for a moment, she could pretend they were back in the forest.

  “I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” she said finally. “When you first showed up, I don’t recall you demanding my hand in marriage, or throwing me over your shoulder and carrying me to the altar. You haven’t rushed me, or pressured me. If the ghost hadn’t told me of the prophecy, I still wouldn’t know you had any marital intentions toward me at all.” She focused on the root pressed against her right side, hoping the disappointment she could have sworn she’d heard in her voice had only been her imagination.

  Saamal cleared his throat. “Actually, I have a confession.”

  “So many in one day?” Aiyana teased.

  Saamal flushed. “Yes, well… When I returned to the physical plane to attempt to revive you, it didn’t work. It occurred to me that perhaps if I could not bring you to the physical plane to marry you…perhaps I would convince you to marry me here.”

  Aiyana’s heart fluttered and she sat up a little straighter. She cursed herself for seeming so eager and tried to settle down again. “And how did you plan to convince me?”

  Saamal shifted on the ground. “I’m afraid I know little of wooing,” he admitted. “It is likely that I would have proceeded along a rather traditional path.”

  “Oh?” Aiyana prompted. “And how would that have gone?”

  Saamal reached behind him and a look of concentration passed over his face. Aiyana’s eyebrows rose as he pulled a blanket seemingly from nowhere. It was woven from thick wool, beautifully dyed a deep shade of crimson and decorated with bright gold and orange stripes in a zig-zag pattern. She blushed as Saamal wrapped them both in the blanket, pressing their bodies together under the beautiful fabric. He groped for something else at his side, hesitating. When he still hadn’t moved after a few moments, Aiyana leaned a little closer.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Saamal lowered his eyes to the ground, still toying with whatever he had withdrawn. “Long ago, it was a tradition among our people that men intending to romance a woman to be his wife would find an object out among nature that spoke to him and make an instrument from it. It’s said that no lessons would be needed, no skill necessary. The spirits would guide him in making the instrument and the music would flow from his soul to speak to the woman he desires.”

  “It sounds beautiful.” Aiyana frowned at the shadow in Saamal’s eyes, the doubt that screamed from the tension radiating from his body. “I’m not sure why you’re so hesitant. Do you think I’ll mock your song?”

  The corner of Saamal’s mouth twitched and he glanced at her. Slowly, he lifted the object he held beside him. It was a flute of some sort, smooth, white, with small holes drilled into it. Aiyana examined it closer and realized why Saamal had been wary of showing her the instrument—it was carved from bone.

  “Is that…?”

  Saamal met her eyes, his expression guarded. “The femur of a sacrifice. A powerful artifact now.” He turned the flute over in his hands.

  Aiyana kept her expression composed, not wanting to discourage him from being honest with her. “And you carved it yourself?”

  “Yes.” He ran a finger down the long body of the flute. “I meant what I said in the forest, Aiyana. I want us to find a new way forward together.” He lowered the flute. “But you should know that what I am will never change completely. I come from a world of flesh and blood, and my power is not…pretty.” He raised his eyes to hers, meeting her gaze with silent resolve. “I would offer you flowers and sunlight if I could.”

  A stab of anger pricked at Aiyana and she pulled away slightly. “I don’t appreciate your judgment.”

  Saamal’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry?”

  “Am I such a fragile woman that I’m supposed to be frightened off by a bone?” she demanded. “Does the fact that I hold half your power—half of your dark power—suddenly mean nothing? Am I not the same woman who took jaguar form to help defeat Achiyalatopa?”

  “I—”

  Aiyana jabbed a finger into his chest, her irritation mounting the more she thought about it. How much of what they’d had in the forest had been fantasy? How much more of that connection, that warm feeling of respect and camaraderie would she be asked to part with? None of it.

  “You let my father get to you. You let him put a picture of me in your head, a picture of me as the vulnerable child that needs protecting. I’ve fought my whole life to escape that suffocating protection. I finally found someone who convinced me the power inside me wasn’t evil, that it was strength I could use, strength that would be good for my people. Now all of a sudden you’re making it worse than evil—you’re making it cease to matter.”

  She glared at him, letting some of the beast inside her bleed into her eyes. “I am not a delicate flower to be fussed over, kept in a garden protected from the world. I know who you are—I’ve lived parts of your life. And I will say it again…” She leaned closer, putting her face within inches of Saamal’s, his eyes still wide. “You do not scare me.”

  The kiss caught her by surprise. One minute she was seething, giving the pompous ass a piece of her mind. The next his arms were banded around her, crushing her against his chest. He swung her to the side so she was stretched across his lap, his mouth closing over hers
in a kiss that sent fire down her nerves, heat pooling in her body. She groped around for a moment, her fingers finally finding his hair, sliding through the jet black locks to hold him to her. Pleasure spiraled through her and she deepened the kiss, parting her lips and using her tongue to coax him farther inside. He groaned, his grip tightening almost painfully as he pillaged her mouth.

  The scent of blood curled through the air and Aiyana startled as she realized claws had slid from her fingers and she was using them to hold Saamal’s head to her. She tore her mouth from his with a gasp. “I’m sor—”

  He chuckled and silenced her with another searing kiss, licking her lower lip as he leaned back. “My savage queen,” he murmured.

  His eyes had bled to dark skies again, the whites darkened to shining obsidian. A fresh rush of desire flooded Aiyana’s body and it took every ounce of her self control to pull her claws from him and slide out of his lap. Those dark eyes watched her, wicked promises shining in their depths. Her heart pounded, her skin buzzing with the sensation that at any moment he might pounce on her, drag her to the ground and finish what his kiss had started…

  He leaned back and disappointment bit at her, her body twitching as if she would follow him. A broad smile spread over his face, his eyes shining with the knowledge of what she wanted, how he affected her. A blush scalded her cheeks, burning hotter when he winked at her and drew the bone flute from the ground. His long fingers caressed the polished surface, dancing over the holes as he raised it to his lips and breathed into the top of the instrument.

  The music flowed from the instrument like a breeze dancing over the land, coaxing magic from the air and earth, playing the song of a sunset. Darkness infused the music, high notes flicking into the air, bringing to mind flashes of lightning in a dark sky. Then the music dipped down, low, the crash of thunder rolling over the plains. Every note was wild, thrilling. The tune spoke to something in Aiyana’s blood, led her heart through pleasure and pain, excitement and joy. Finally the tune slowed, flowing over her like a tangible blanket, offering comfort and peace. She laid her head on Saamal’s shoulder as he played, letting the music wash over her. She let the notes drift through her mind, plucking at memories and pulling at emotions. As the last note faded, energy buzzed along her skin, a warm, pleasant sensation.

  Saamal put the flute down, wrapped his arm around her. Slowly she tilted her face up to receive his kiss. His lips were gentle this time, caressing her mouth, tasting her. She moaned, delicately brushing her fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek. Her head swam with dizzying sensations, thick heat that filled her mind with images of warm furs and dark bedrooms. Saamal pulled back so his lips barely brushed hers when he spoke.

  “Marry me,” he whispered.

  Aiyana nodded, the heat in her blood making it too difficult to think enough to form words. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to her again.

  Suddenly Saamal’s body stiffened, as solid as stone but with tension screaming from every pore. He tore himself away, a growl crawling from his throat. His face twisted with pain, and he clutched at his heart.

  “Saamal, what’s wrong?” Aiyana cried, her voice high with alarm.

  The god’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, holding a hand out to her. Before he could speak, his body began to fade. In a few seconds, he disappeared.

  Aiyana screamed.

  Chapter Eight

  Aiyana.

  Saamal snarled, fingers flexing around the empty air that had held Aiyana a moment before. He’d been ripped from her arms—literally. He’d proposed, she’d said yes. He had been on the cusp of the greatest moment of his life—and he’d been ripped away.

  Rage boiled in Saamal’s veins, flooding through his fingertips until pain told him his claws were out in force. He opened his eyes and was almost surprised to find the entire world wasn’t colored in red, so great was his fury. Adonis’ face appeared over him, hazel eyes concerned, his hair tangled into a mess of spikes as if he’d been running his hands through it. Before Saamal could think better of it, he thrust out his hand to grab the demon by the neck.

  But his arm didn’t move. Saamal gritted his teeth, straining to force the muscles in his arm to respond, trying to grab the demon he was nearly certain was responsible for dragging him back to the physical plane, going against Saamal’s wishes and taking him away from his bride. No amount of force or willpower could make his arm move, not even so much as twitch. Frustration forced his rage to new heights and he bit back a howl.

  “He’s alive,” Adonis shouted.

  A second later, Etienne’s face appeared next to the incubus’. “Is he all right?”

  “He’d be better if he wasn’t such a fool.” Adonis glared at Saamal, his irises flickering red. “None of you listen. You are tied to the land, Saamal, you said so yourself. You cannot spend that much time on the astral plane.”

  Saamal choked, tried to get his breath enough to speak. When he finally managed to get his voice to work, his words came out hoarse, barely there. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “You drank the elixir of the sun twice in as many hours, went to the astral plane, had a battle with some creature there, then went back without waiting until you’d regained even half of your energy,” Adonis told him, deep creases forming around his eyes. He shook his head, the crimson sparks in his eyes flaring brighter. “Dammit, Saamal, you picked a devil of a time for that eternal patience of yours to lapse.”

  Saamal tried to concentrate on what Adonis was saying. The incubus seemed angry, but why? What did it matter to him if Saamal weakened himself, took risks that perhaps were not entirely wise? Wasn’t that why he and Etienne were here, to allow Saamal time to let his guard down?

  A dull ache spread from the base of his skull and Saamal closed his eyes for a moment. His head was still cloudy and his body weighed far more than it should. He couldn’t move his limbs, and even speaking was a herculean task. If his faith in Etienne’s and Adonis’ abilities had been even a fraction less, his panic would be reaching new heights by now.

  It wasn’t until he’d calmed down to concentrate on his breathing that the pounding of his heart quieted enough for him to become aware of the noise coming from outside the castle window. Growls, howls, and a high-pitched screeching that threatened to snap every nerve in his ears. The scent of blood hit him like a rampaging bear and his eyes flew open.

  “What’s happening out there?” he demanded, his voice breaking as he tried to force volume from his vocal chords.

  Etienne’s face was grim, golden eyes serious. “The jaguars started growing uneasy a few seconds after your consciousness left for the astral plane again. I tried to calm them, but their agitation only continued to grow.”

  Saamal’s stomach tightened, twisting into a series of knots. “They are my first line of defense. If they are upset, then something bad is happening.”

  Etienne pressed his lips into a thin line, and he nodded once. “They were right. Saamal, the land…it’s gone mad.”

  “What do you mean?” Saamal fought once again to move, but his body barely twitched. He clenched his jaw, fighting to draw more power to him, to concentrate what he had.

  “He means everything out there is pure chaos,” Adonis answered him, the disapproval in his voice giving way to deeper tones of dread. “The ground is shaking like it intends to cast everything on it into the sky. Great pits like the one you pointed to outside have been opening up everywhere, and the sky has shifted to a most unsettling shade of green.” The incubus glanced at the window, shifting uneasily on his feet. “The last time I saw anything like it was on the astral plane, after Ivy panicked at the seaside. Her fear twisted the world into a true nightmare—and that was nothing compared to what’s happening outside these walls.”

  “Cipactli.” Horror blossomed in Saamal’s chest, closing like talons around his heart and squeezing until it was hard to breathe. “When I woke up, you said ‘He’s alive.’ Did you think I was dead?”

&
nbsp; “Yes,” Etienne responded. “Even I could scarcely hear your heartbeat. For a time, it seemed as if you were no longer of this world.”

  “No. No, this can’t be. If I was truly so separated from the land, if I faded as much as you say, then Cipactli would have felt it. If she thought that I died…”

  “She would have no reason to think the pact would ever be made good again,” Adonis breathed.

  “Yes.” Saamal tried to rise again, and once again found himself unable to move. Panic sent acidic tendrils through his blood, poisoning him even as he fought against it. “I have to get out of here, I have to touch the land. I must let her know that I’m still here or she will attempt to break her bonds.”

  “You mean the giant crocodile your kingdom sits on might try to…stand up?” Adonis blinked.