“Ready myself?” Zanya shifted her weight. “For what?”
Cualli lifted her chin, her eyes gleaming with magic. “War.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next day, Zanya sat on the sofa in her living room, struggling to gather her thoughts while she stared at the smears of mottled blood staining her windows.
Balam was lying in the corner—back in his familiar jaguar form. It would take time to get used to him being around, but when the goddess gave an order, she wasn’t about to argue. Even if that meant listening to the jaguar snore half the day. How he was so relaxed, she’d never know.
Zanya hadn’t used her seeking ability to find anyone from her group since she and Arwan fled the bonding ceremony. She blocked any effort Marzena made to reach out. She just wasn’t ready.
But ready or not, it was time.
Zanya drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the smooth tone of Renato’s voice and the warmth behind his chestnut brown eyes.
Flashes of light pulsed behind her lids, and her stone hummed excitedly against her skin. Then, silence. Zanya drew in another breath. The scent of tobacco from Renato’s pipe tickled her nose and pulled her closer to his subconscious.
It was like making a phone call, and the person’s voicemail picks up. But instead of talking to a machine, her thoughts filters through the recipient’s mind, leaving them with a clear message.
Come to Mexico. Bring everyone. Hurry.
“How’s it going?”
Arwan’s voice broke her concentration. Zanya opened her eyes while Arwan crossed the room and sat beside her. “Did you get through?”
She nodded, and then swallowed the lump in her throat.
He took her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I hope so.” The idea of war was unsettling, but when it was between realms, it could mean the end of existence as they knew it.
Balam’s ear flinched, and he lifted his head. The big cat pushed to all fours and walked across the living room until he was inches from the glass. A low growl simmered in his chest.
Zanya stood with a knot in her gut and walked to the window, squinting at the bright sun. “What…” She fixed her palm against the cool glass, watching what appeared to be a mass exodus of Mayan villagers, who were following a trail along the river. “Where did they all come from?” She stood so close to the window, her breath left a patch of fog, which vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
The villagers there wore similar clothing to those near Renato’s home, which wasn’t more than a simple loincloth and strings of hand carved beads. Women walked topless with baskets balanced on their heads. Babies were swaddled and strapped to their mothers’ backs in a cloth sling that hugged the mothers’ bodies. Though most of the men seemed older, they all still had long, black hair, which was tied in a braid, bun, or ponytail. They held an assortment of weapons, and flanked the traveling group on all sides.
Arwan walked to her side. “They came from their homes, in the jungle.”
“I didn’t see any of them when we were hiking here.”
“You’re surprised?”
“Well…” She pursed her lips. “I guess not. The villages pretty much blend into their surroundings, don’t they?”
“And that’s how they prefer it.”
She frowned. “Until now.”
Balam padded back to the spot he’d been napping, pawed at the floor, circled the area a few times, and then plopped on his belly, resting his massive head on equally massive paws. His bold, yellow eyes slid closed, and he settled back to sleep.
Zanya glanced at Arwan. “Well, Balam doesn’t seem very concerned.”
“Maybe he knows what’s going on.”
“Too bad he’s not in his human form. He might actually be able to tell us something.”
Arwan placed his hand on the small of her back, spreading warmth over her skin. “Just take care of your side of things, and Cualli will do the rest.”
Zanya cocked her head, examining Arwan’s relaxed features. “You have a lot of confidence in her.”
“We have no reason not to.”
“Yeah.” Zanya gave a soft smile. “You’re right.”
Arwan leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “That’s the first time you’ve said that since we bonded.” He pulled her closer and placed a kiss on her neck. “Or maybe ever.”
His hot breath prickled her skin. “It may be the only time, so enjoy it while it lasts.”
“I intend to.” He hooked his arms behind her legs and back, and scooped her up, cradling her against his chest.
She sucked in a breath and hooked her arm around his neck. “What are you—?”
He cut her off with a kiss.
Her muscles tensed, and she pulled back. “Whoa.” She glanced at Balam. “What about…”
“What?”
Her cheeks flushed with heat. “You know.” She gestured toward the jaguar with a nod. “Him,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “I think he knows exactly what humans do when they’re bonded and in love.”
Her stomach fluttered. They were bonded, yes. But he’d never said the other thing aloud before. Neither of them had.
“Still, it’s kind of…” Her throat tightened. “Awkward.”
Arwan set her down. “Okay.” He hooked his finger under her chin and teased his lips against hers, testing her willpower. “Tell me when you feel comfortable again. I’ll be here.” He kissed her again, harder this time. The tip of his tongue slid over hers, spiking her body temperature.
She coiled her fingers around his shirt, quick to notice the firm muscle under the soft cotton.
When he pulled away, Zanya bit her lip. “That’s not fair.”
“What?”
She arched a brow. “You know what.”
He examined her with a crooked smirk. “You’re beautiful.”
She softened her tight lips. “I…” She squared her jaw. “Hey. You did it again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mi amor.”
She glanced at Balam a second time. “Jaguars are nocturnal, right?”
He grinned and then shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Heavy sleepers?”
He arched a brow.
She blew out a puff of air and crinkled her nose. “It’s probably not a good time.”
“Whatever you say.” He winked and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to shower. Let me know if anything else happens.”
***
Arwan
He stood in their bedroom, leaning on the dresser that faced the wall. He had to get himself under control.
Since their first night together, Arwan had craved her touch. He craved her like thirst wrapped around his throat, every cell of his body on fire for some relief.
He never thought someone would love him—let alone be his soul mate. Now every moment he spent near her, all he could think of was the scent of her hair, the curves of her hips, and the power she harbored. She was a walking, talking, complex powerhouse of strengths, and she had complete control over him.
Her footsteps in the hall grew closer until she lingered in the doorway. There was no need to turn around to know she was there. He could hear her heartbeat, and smell the faint scent of her skin, teasing his need to be with her.
“Arwan.”
He stripped off his shirt and tossed it in the laundry basket in the corner. “Yeah.” He turned to face her and leaned back on the dresser, determined to appear like he wasn’t going stir crazy like a caged animal. She was fragile, and he would force himself to respect her wishes, no matter how difficult it was.
She stepped inside, twisting her fingers. “You’re mad.”
“No.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m just…”
She watched him with a steady gaze. Her breath paused as she waited for his next word.
“Tired.”
“I know the feeling.” She ran her hand over her muscles
, massaging a sore spot. “This whole thing has me pretty freaked out.” She dropped her hands to her side. “I’m trying to be brave, but I have no idea what we’re in for. A war between realms? What will that even look like?”
This, he couldn’t lie about. Not even if it would put her at ease. “It’s going to be long, ugly, and terrifying.”
Her gaze snapped up and her lips parted.
“But we’ll make it through. I have to believe that.”
She hugged herself and shifted her weight. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“You can’t fall apart now.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Just, those people leaving like that. They know something’s coming, don’t they?”
He walked to her and pulled her against his chest. “I don’t know.”
They could have sensed something, or Cualli could have warned them to leave before things got bad. Either way, they were more alone than ever.
She put her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest. Her fingers spread over his bare back. “You’re all I have to keep me sane,” she whispered.
He gently propped his chin on the top of her head. “You’re all I have.”
Zanya looked up at him, searching his face with those shimmering gray eyes. “That’s how it’s supposed to be, right?” She slid her hands over his back, across his ribs, and up his stomach. “Me for you, and you for me.”
He shifted, his skin on fire where she touched.
She waved her hand, ordering a gust of wind to swing the door shut. Strands of her hair carried in the breeze
“Careful.” He tightened his grip around her waist. “You may wake Balam.”
She pushed onto her tiptoes and hovered her lips over his. “I don’t care.”
Chapter Fourteen
Arwan
Another day had gone by without a word from Cualli or the others. The atmosphere in the house had been tense, and Balam’s nonchalant feline attitude had somehow heightened Zanya’s anxiety. Arwan sensed it in her body language. Every time she tried to smile, her bottom lip quivered. She didn’t seem to notice it. He did.
The moon was high in the sky, shining through the windows into their bedroom, washing everything in silky light. Arwan kicked at the sheets. The fan overhead spun in a blurred circle, doing little to cool him.
He pushed to his forearms and gazed down at Zanya, who was asleep beside him. He scanned the curves of her figure below the sheer white cloth. She was flawless—everything he ever wanted.
He lifted strands of her hair to his nose, inhaling her scent. He still hadn’t wrapped his mind around the fact he’d enjoy the warmth of her body lying beside him forever.
She drew in a deep, sleepy breath. Her eyelids fluttered, though she didn’t wake.
He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder and lowered his head back onto his pillow. Perhaps all the years he’d spent fighting for what he believed in had finally paid off. He was bonded with the love of his life, and his mother hadn’t abandoned him without reason. The pieces were finally coming together, and the picture they painted was a bright future—if they could survive what was to come.
Zanya let out a tiny moan and rolled onto her stomach. Strands of wavy brown hair spilled over her face.
He drifted his hand down the soft ridges of her spine. When he lifted his hand, something wet slicked his fingertips.
A salty, metallic smell filled his nostrils, making his throat tighten.
He sat up and peered at his hand, covered in blood. “Zanya!” He yanked the sheet away from her body, uncovering roots clenched onto her legs.
“Zanya!” He grabbed hold of the invading tree and yanked on the roots with all of his strength. His muscles bulged and knuckles flushed white, though his efforts did little to separate Yaxche from her body. “Zanya, wake up!”
The roots coiled tighter and slithered up her torso as she slept. “No!” He snapped several thinner vines, but the others were too strong, and too hungry.
“Damn it, Zanya! Wake—”
Her eyes shot open, and a shrill scream tore out of her chest. She pushed the top half of her body off the bed and stared at her legs in horror. “Get them off!”
“You have to use your abilities. I’m not strong enough!” He ground his teeth while yanking on one thick vine, snapping it in half. It went limp and fell to the floor, only for another one to take its place.
“Use your abilities!”
She screamed again, sharper this time. “It’s inside me!” Zanya clawed at a root boring into her leg. “Get it off! Get it off!” Blood seeped from the gash, staining the sheet scarlet.
Arwan leapt off the bed, ran into the kitchen, and grabbed a knife from the drawer. When he skidded back into the room, Zanya and the entire bed were consumed by the tree.
Her screams were muffled inside.
“No!” He lunged forward and brought the blade down on the roots. Arwan froze when blood seeped out of the injured tree, onto the floor. The possibility of it being Zanya’s blood was too real. If he cut into the vines, the knife could find her just as easily.
Zanya’s screams suddenly stopped.
The roots stilled.
A blanket of silence covered the room.
Arwan’s hands trembled, and the knife fell from his grip, clattering to the stone floor. He laid his hands over the tangled cage of vines, wedging his fingertips into any cracks or crevices he could find. “Zanya.” He choked on her name.
Poor boy, a voice hissed, so quietly he questioned his own sanity.
He scanned the empty space, finding nothing but shadows, moonlight, and the lingering scent of Zanya’s presence.
The darkness inside him flared, twisting his gut.
You cannot save her.
He turned his head, staring at the roots.
A light shone from inside the gnarled ball of slithering roots, making them glow red. Tiny blue veins stood out against the light as they pulsed with newly harvested blood.
Arwan leaned closer, peering through the now-translucent walls.
You cannot save her.
A root lifted from the mass, and Arwan stumbled back. The mass pushed up and coiled around one another, forming five fingers, then a hand and a forearm.
You cannot escape. The familiar voice was louder this time.
The roots lifted, gathered, and molded into a head, neck, and torso—like a creature spawning from its origin.
But it wasn’t a creature.
Arwan snarled at Contessa’s features as she grew from the tree.
The witch reached out, agitating the darkness inside him. It clawed and battered the walls of his chest, forcing him to his knees.
You cannot save her.
He clenched his teeth and fisted his hands against the stone ground. “I can.” The words quivered in a breathless effort to speak through the sickening influence of his other half. His darkness coiled around his lungs like a vise, fogging his vision and winding his muscles tight until he struggled to breathe. “I can.” He forced himself to his feet, trembling under the effort. “And I will.”
Against his body’s will, he stepped forward. “I know who I am.” He squared his stance. “I know, and I’m coming for you.” He glared. “Not even my father can save you now.”
A flash of light exploded in the space.
Arwan gasped and shot up in bed.
Zanya sat up and placed her hand on his back.
He looked at her, touched her hand, and then her face. “You’re here.” He kissed her on the forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. “Thank the gods.”
“What’s going on?” She pulled away. “You’re covered in sweat. Were you having a nightmare?”
He pushed his hair back and nodded. “Yeah. A very real nightmare.”
“Well, if anyone can relate, it’s me. Just…breathe.”
He drew in a deep breath and threw off the sheets, the memory of her screams replaying in his mind. He stood and glanced out the window, movement catch
ing his eye. He stepped forward and peered down at a sea of crawling roots spread over the jungle floor.
His stomach dropped.
Zanya shifted under the sheets. “What is it? More locals?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He swallowed, then lowered his gaze. “Go back to sleep. Everything’s fine.”
She lay back down and draped her arm on his side of the bed. “Come back to bed.”
“I will. As soon as I splash some water on my face.”
He walked into the bathroom and shut the door, pressing his back to it as he drew in shallow breaths. The tree was rising, and Contessa had become stronger.
He looked into the mirror at his own reflection. The witch had awoken something inside him in the dream—or vision, he couldn’t be sure anymore—and if it could happen then, it could likely happen again. Next time, he may not be able to contain it.
His reflection in the mirror shuddered. Arwan blinked and leaned in closer, examining tiny shadows that danced behind his irises. His darkness was eager to escape. It was one tragic downfall to being half evil. The spirit of the damned fed off of other damned souls.
A wicked laugh carried through the air like a faint breeze.
It could have been his imagination playing tricks on him. Or maybe Contessa’s power had bled into his mind. He glared at his own reflection. Either way, that part of him would never die.
When he returned to bed, Zanya had already fallen asleep. He lay awake beside her for the rest of the night, questioning himself over and over again.
Telling Zanya about the dream would only worry her, but telling her about the vines around their home would make her slip into panic. If the vines were still outside in the morning, he wouldn’t be able to shelter her any longer.
After several hours had passed, crisp hues of yellow and orange pierced the darkness, shedding light into their room.
Three solid slams rattled the front door.
He sat up in bed.
Zanya yawned and stretched her arms above her head. “You okay?”
Arwan threw off the sheets and planted his bare feet on the stone floor. He stood and crossed the room, cracked open the bedroom door, and then stole a peek into the empty hall. He turned to Zanya and pressed his index finger over his lips, then slipped into the hall, silently creeping into the living room, where he glanced at the place Balam usually slept.
Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) Page 8