Ihuitzil. His hummingbird.
A surge of possessiveness flowed through him, stoking the flames of passion. He deepened the kiss, tightening his hold on her. He hadn’t held a woman in centuries, had forgotten the pleasure of caressing another’s skin.
He took the straps of her bra and pulled them partway down her arms until her breasts spilled free. He nearly groaned at the sight. He bent down and suckled one dark, rosy tip and then the other. He heard the soft sound she made in her throat and it enflamed him further. She was made for him, this woman.
Her hands moved over his shoulders, his biceps. He loved the feel of her skin touching his. He moved up and traced the lines of her hummingbird tattoo with his tongue. She squeezed his muscles, whimpering with each flick of his tongue. Ruthlessly he laved the area, unable to believe how sensitive she was in this one spot, until she went rigid and screamed his name.
Tomás didn’t give her time for thought. He worked the buttons of her jeans open and shoved them down her legs. She kicked them off, standing before him in only her panties and the bra still clasped around her midriff. For a moment, he soaked in her beauty, took in the curve of her slender hips and the long legs that he couldn’t wait to have wrapped around his torso.
She blushed and tilted her head down. Her hands fluttered in front of her breasts, and a rosy flush spread beneath her skin. He captured her hands and pressed them to his lips. He took each finger and sucked on it one by one.
“Tomás, I never…” Her voice trailed off.
She was a virgin. A deeper respect for her settled over him. Her gift was his honor. The alpha male in him demanded that he brand her in every way.
He gently moved her hands up his torso, splaying her fingers over his heart. “You did this to me. Can you not feel it?”
“Yes.” Her breath came out in a ragged sigh. Her fingers slid down his torso and lightly ran over his swollen manhood. His mouth went dry.
Tomás leaned in closer, letting her explore and squeeze him. With each touch, the pressure built, setting his blood on fire. The need to plunge himself into her wetness drove him mad with desire. Unable to take it any longer, he stopped her, walking her backwards ’til her knees hit the edge of the bed and she toppled down. He followed after her, capturing her mouth, completely enraptured by the slumberous passion he read in her eyes.
He tore the panties off her, the flimsy material easily giving way to his strength. She wriggled out of her bra, while his fingers sought her secrets.
She broke free of his kiss. He saw passion war with uncertainty. A rosy hue dusted her cheeks and she bit down on her lips when he inserted one finger inside her.
“You are so tight,” he groaned, holding himself in check when he wanted so badly to thrust inside her until she wrung him dry. He had gone centuries without a woman. How had he forgotten the beauty of a woman’s touch, the sounds she made, the feel of her skin against his own?
“Tomás, please,” Carolina murmured, but the protest seemed halfhearted as he worked her with his fingers, stretching her, readying her. He watched her as her head started shifting from side to side, her eyes glazing over as a soft sheen of sweat covered her body.
With his free hand he reached up to roll her nipple between his fingers, enjoying the way it made her move even more restlessly.
“Tomás,” she moaned. Her hips arched up, begging for more of his attention. Her nectar flowed over his fingers. Her passion and arousal moved him as nothing had in centuries.
He rose up and once again touched her tattoo with the tip of his tongue. “My spirit mate, give yourself over to me.”
As he bathed the small mark, he felt power surge between them. His skin pulsated with tidal waves of warmth. Her skin glowed wild with the colors of the Sonoran desert. Ruthlessly, he nipped and licked the tiny area, aware of the buildup in energy with each touch of his tongue. Carolina screamed, her back arching off the bed, the orgasm ripping through her. Tomás could wait no longer. He pushed into her, barely hesitating when he came to the thin barrier of resistance. He pushed past it, waiting for her to adjust to his size, but power thrummed in them, around them, and Carolina urged him on, rising up to meet him. He started slowly, then, unable to stop himself, pounded into her. He made her come again before he allowed himself to spill his seed inside. Gold lights burst around them, and for one brief moment, he felt as if he touched her soul, as if enough of his humanity remained to be claimed by her.
For that alone, he could love her.
Chapter Seven
Carolina jolted awake. The early rays of dawn blazed red-orange through the white curtains gracing her window. Something felt off. Her hand brushed against solid muscle and she turned to stare at the man in her bed.
She’d never shared her bed with anyone. She’d never had sex before. Her body heated at the memory of the carnal dance they had done last night. She wondered if Tomás was the reason for her hummingbird burning.
Her eyes lingered over his broad shoulders, the dark hair that spilled around them and the sharp, hard angles of his face. He was a shadow warrior, a man on a mission, with the scars and nicks marking his body to prove it. Her core heated, but it was a different warmth, one that made her want to crawl back under the covers with him and indulge her wildest fantasies.
Her tattoo itched and she touched the marking that Tomás had reverently inspected last night along with every other inch of her skin. He called the hummingbird a gift from Huitzilopochtli, the mark of a warrior.
Carolina had wanted to tell him the truth—that she was guardian to the sun god’s wife, Chalchiuhtlicue. Was this what Chica had feared? That Carolina would weaken and betray her goddess in the heat of passion? The temptation to confide in Tomás burned inside her. Last night, for the first time since her parents’ death, she hadn’t felt the immense burden of protecting the ranch alone. In his arms, she let the rest of the world slide away and allowed herself to believe that she could be loved. He had called her his spirit mate, and a connection of spirits was how it felt.
Still, she knew so little about Tomás, other than his being a shadow warrior. Was it the tzitzimime that had brought Tomás to her ranch or a different kind of mission? Did he know about Chica? Was the Aztec sun god searching for his wife?
Chica had warned her to never again let a man distract her. Fear crept up, replacing the warmth of lying beside Tomás and turning it into a cold ball of dread in the pit of her stomach. What if Tomás was nothing more than another Billy? Her heart told her it couldn’t be true but her head wouldn’t let the notion go.
She wanted to wake Tomás. Demand to know the truth and find out what had brought him to her ranch. But Carolina didn’t know if her heart could handle the truth.
She owed her family, all those before her who had lived and died to protect her goddess. Chica believed that if she were found by her husband, the vision she had seen would come to pass. Chica wanted Tomás gone. Yet, looking down upon his face, Carolina recognized that her body and heart wanted him to stay. For a brief moment he chased away the loneliness and violence that filled her world. He created a taste of paradise filled with beauty and desire instead of monsters and death.
Her heart battled with logic. And what if Tomás was here only for the demon? How would she handle it when he walked away, leaving her once again alone?
Gazing upon the handsome, chiseled warrior lying peacefully in her bed, her heart squeezed and her tattoo throbbed in pain.
Would it truly be so bad to confide in him?
Like it or not, she needed Chica’s counsel. She quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a cotton top and stole quietly out of the room.
She opened the back door and was hit by a blast of hot wind carrying evil’s scent. Her tattoo burned deep to the bone. In the distance, she saw fire. “Chica!”
Before she could take a step, she was grabbed from behind.
“Let me go!” Adrenaline pumped through her body as she fought Tomás’s hold. She had to save her goddess
.
He spun her around and tightened his grip, his face inches away from hers. “What is going on? The truth, this time. Now!”
Tomás had snapped awake, his wolf alerting him to the taint of evil in the air. A swift glance revealed Carolina was gone from the bed.
He caught her just before she could run off towards the burning sky and cursed himself for not sensing the danger earlier.
She struggled in his arms, a complete change from last night when she had been all liquid heat and passion, her gaze filled with desire. Now he saw fear and rage and the need to protect secrets. “What is it you hide? I will destroy any threat to you.”
She twisted out of his grip. “It is my job to protect Chica. I am her guardian.”
“Who is Chica?”
“Why did you really come, Tomás? Were you really chasing the tzitzimime or did you seduce me because you were after Chalchiuhtlicue all along?” Tears built up in her eyes and spilled down the sides of her cheeks. She swiped at them, the liquid getting absorbed into her fingertips.
“The water goddess is here?” His head spun with her accusations. Anger replaced his confusion. He took a step towards her, backing her up against the open door.
“I am no friend of the tzitzimime. I am a shadow warrior of Huitzilopochtli—my mission in the afterlife is to destroy demons and protect humanity. If you knew Chalchiuhtlicue was on your land, why did you not tell me?”
The implications were astounding. The goddess of water and wife to the sun god had fled centuries ago, soon after their wedding, without explanation. Huitzilopochtli had been searching for her ever since. “If the demon gets Chalchiuhtlicue, then all the water on the earth will dry up. Life will be doomed.”
“I, too, have a duty. My family has guarded Chica for centuries, from father to son, mother to daughter. Above all else, I am sworn to protect her. You, as a shadow warrior, can understand.”
He did understand, but that didn’t lessen his anger. Her soul called out to his. They had connected. Pieces clicked into place.
Carolina’s power over the element of water. Her secretiveness. She was a guardian, protector of the water goddess, Chalchiuhtlicue, wife to Huitzilopochtli. Every last remaining shred of his humanity had believed she was his spirit mate. He had been wrong. Last night she had given her body completely over to him, but not her trust.
“You were right. You cannot be my spirit mate. Spirit mates are a bond of body and of soul. It is a bond of complete trust.” He pushed her aside and stepped outside, ready to do battle. “I have to go kill the demon.”
Caroline rushed behind him. “I’m coming with you.”
“No!” he growled. The wolf stared her down. Tomás sensed the animal within him right at the surface, ready to break loose. Fury at his own foolish hope to reclaim his humanity overrode his judgment, allowing the beast to dominate. “Cihuatl, you have caused enough trouble. Had you trusted me, the goddess would never have been left unprotected.”
Fur and flesh melded and rippled over his body, bones snapped and reshaped. He fell to the floor on all fours. He raised his nose to the air, dragging in the acrid smell of smoldering death.
Tomás took one last look at Carolina. The wolf dragged his attention back to the desert. He howled and bounded off to the fiery hell ahead of him.
Cihuatl. Woman. He hadn’t called her Carolina. She ran to her mare, Mariposa, and led her out of the corral. She swung herself atop the horse and, grabbing a handful of mane, took off bareback after Tomás.
The tears she’d dried up trickled down again. She’d stupidly let herself fall into the fantasy of having it all. She’d known from the start that she and Tomás came from different worlds. She’d made such a mess of things. She’d failed Chica and herself. How could she call herself a guardian when she couldn’t even guard her own heart?
Was Tomás right? Should she have trusted him despite her doubts, despite Chica’s warnings? She didn’t know anything anymore. Crying was useless. She wasn’t going to waste another precious drop of water. She would save Chica like she had always done, and then she would go back to being what she knew best—an ordinary woman.
His wolf charged across the hot desert sand. Buried within his beast, Tomás’s rage poured through him like boiling lava. In the distance through the wolf’s eyes, he spotted another woman of exquisite beauty standing tall and proud. Quetzal feathers caught in the long, dark hair flowing down her back. A jade skirt flowed like ripples of water around her legs. She wore a peasant blouse of blues and greens that made him think of the ocean. Gold armbands in the shapes of snakes coiled around her arms.
She was absolutely stunning, her beauty that of which ballads were written. He had seen her once from afar with her husband, his master. They had appeared glorious and filled with love and passion.
When the water goddess had disappeared without explanation, her husband had sent his warriors out to search to no avail. With each negative report that came back, the light seemed to dim in Huitzilopochtli’s eyes.
And to think Chalchiuhtlicue had been here, on this ranch, for all these centuries.
Carolina should have told him. Anger continued to fuel his mind and he channeled it into ever greater speed. He had to protect Huitzilopochtli’s wife.
Tomás was close enough that he could hear the demon Carolina had called Billy laugh wickedly as he blew rings of fire around the goddess, taunting her. She lashed out with whips of water, but her energy appeared to be ebbing and Tomás could see the water particles separating and falling uselessly on the ground.
“Pathetic. And you call yourself a goddess! You are nothing compared to my master. When I am finished with you, old woman, I will destroy that little bitch, Carolina, and once again be human.”
The mention of Carolina’s name drove Tomás forward. The wolf took a running leap and pounced on the demon. Rage, hot and scalding, drove his strength. He viciously tore his claws into the tzitzimime that dared put his foul hands on Carolina. The line between man and beast blurred. Blood and gore squirted over his pelt, soaking him in black ooze. He could feel the venom eating away at his fur, but he ignored the pain. Fury drove him on. He had hoped that Carolina would be his salvation, but nothing could save him. The wolf inside him pushed to the forefront, relishing the feel of raw flesh under its claws. He pushed his muzzle into the demon’s chest, cracking bone and tearing through muscle as the demon yowled. He dug his paws into the opening and ripped the chest wide open, breaking the man in half. He flung the rotted carcass aside.
Chalchiuhtlicue regarded the demon’s smoldering, rotted corpse, before turning to him and bowing her head. “Great warrior. I thank you.” He had defeated the tzitzimime, but a greater threat crackled in the air.
His wolf snarled a warning. Tomás focused, aware of the black smoke rising from the dried cracks in the ground that lay below the dead body. Evil, greater than any he had ever experienced, spread like a disease.
Within the smoke, the enemy’s face appeared. Xiuhcoatl. The Aztec fire serpent rose up into the sky to hover over the goddess, looming large enough to swallow Chalchiuhtlicue in one gulp. The smoke coiled around the turquoise serpentine body. Large, venomous fangs sprouted from its gaping jaws.
“Chica!” The scream tore through the air. Carolina galloped across the desert. Her horse skidded to a stop in front of the goddess and she flung herself off.
Tomás cursed himself for his inattentiveness. Nails digging into the dirt, he sprang, lunging past Carolina and shoving her aside. She might not have been his spirit mate, but it was still his duty to protect humans and Huitzilopochtli’s wife. He leapt into the air, sank his teeth into the fire serpent’s neck and held on.
The fire serpent roared in anger and twisted and turned. Its head came down to snap at Tomás. Those sharp, glistening teeth came closer, ever closer, and drops of acid hit his body, burning down to the bone. He refused to let go.
Without his spirit mate, he would be lost to the world in his animal form. If o
ne of them had to die this day, let it be him.
Carolina scrambled up to her feet in time to see Tomás launch himself at Xiuhcoatl. Heart in her throat, she saw his powerful jaws lock on the fire serpent’s long body.
The dragon-like head snapped at the wolf clinging to its neck, but couldn’t seem to get the right angle to wrap its jaws around the animal. Acid drops hit Tomás’s skin, scorching the fur.
She called up her power and felt it fizzle. Instead of falling into bed with the shadow warrior, she should have replenished herself. She was foolish and surely Chica considered her unfit to be a guardian, but Carolina would remain to fight. Desperately she scanned for water. The river bed mocked her with its sandy bottom.
The smell of burning flesh made her sick to her stomach.
Carolina spun, looking for the tiniest drop of water, anything. Sunlight glinted off her goddess. Chica smiled gently, then melted into a puddle, quickly drying up in the blazing desert heat. Carolina dropped to her knees and stared at the pale reflection of Chica in the small concentration of water.
“I’m sorry, Chica. I failed you.”
“You are the only one who can save us, daughter. You are the strongest guardian to be born. You bear my husband’s mark. Use it.”
Carolina didn’t understand, but she didn’t have time. She dipped her fingers into the circle of water and stood. Power flooded through her.
Her body vibrated as she flung every ounce of her power at the fiery serpent. Water slammed into the creature’s eyes, temporarily blinding it. The serpent roared its displeasure and shook its body, streams of smoke billowing around its head. Still it was not enough.
She wiped the sweat on her forehead with her forearm, needing every drop of liquid at her disposal. Her veins thrummed with the power of Chica, building to a crescendo. She could do this. She had been destined for this.
Out of the Shadows: Shadow Warriors, Book 1 Page 5