Interlude (The Stone Legacy Series Book 2)

by Theresa Dalayne

  Peter turned off the TV with the remote. “I think that’s officially the end of me watching the news. Ever.”

  Tara giggled and turned toward him. “Why? It was all good news.”

  “Yeah, this time.” He pulled her close. “But it could have turned out a lot different.” He brushed his lips against hers, sending a chill down her back. She leaned into him and kissed him deeper, smoothing the tip of her tongue over his.

  Her phone rang in her pocket, and she paused.

  “Don’t answer that,” Peter whispered. Tara smiled, his breath caressing her mouth. When the ringing stopped, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched out on top of him. His chest moved up and down under hers while he worked his fingers through her curls. His scent washed over her. She drew it in, cherishing the fresh spring air that came with his embrace.

  The phone buzzed again, and Tara sat up. “Maybe it’s Renato,” she said, scooting off the bed. Peter groaned and sat up, watching as she dug in her jacket pocket. She glanced at the number on the phone with the name beside it. “Oh my God, it’s Zanya.” She answered the call and pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello?” Static buzzed in the microphone for a moment. Then a voice pushed through. Tara’s eyes narrowed, listening carefully. “Hello?”

  “Hello? Can you hear me?”

  Tara gasped. “Zanya!”

  Peter shot off the bed.

  “Tara! Is Jayden okay? Go check on him. I think he’s back. I don’t know if you can hear me, but we’re coming home. Contessa—” Zanya’s voice wove through waves of static.

  The call cut off, and Tara pulled the phone away from her ear. She looked at Peter. “We have to go see Jayden. Zanya’s on her way.”

  Peter nodded. “Just give me a second to throw on a shirt.”

  She gazed out the French doors leading to the balcony. The doors reminded her of Renato’s home, and the lights beyond looked the same as the twinkling orbs she’d admired from the office building when she was with Malachi.

  “It’s funny where life takes you,” she said to herself softly. “My life went from miserable, to worse, to free, to lost, and now—”

  “I’m ready.” Peter softly took her hand, tearing her eyes away from the view. “Come on. We’ll go talk to Renato, together.” He hugged her and placed a kiss on her temple. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  He walked toward the door and opened it, then paused. She gazed into his deep blue eyes.

  He tilted his head. “Ready?”

  Tara nodded and crossed the room with a smile.

  With him, she was home.

  ***Sneak Peek***

  Find out what happens next in:

  Lights of Aurora

  Chapter One

  The scent of dried herbs and fresh rain poured through the open window.

  For the rest of her life, with every whiff of sage or wet earth, Zanya’s mind would turn back to Contessa’s quaint home in Moscow and the shock that had locked her muscles, making her a mere statue in the room.

  She might as well have been a statue when it really mattered. Zanya could still see Jayden’s bright blue eyes staring back at her while he struggled to hold Sarian off long enough for them all to escape.

  She could have saved him if she’d been more focused. More experienced with her abilities. Instead she’d done exactly what Contessa’d thought they’d do all along. Failed. She couldn’t even heal Jayden. Not fast enough.

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and she tightened her fists as she stared down at Jayden’s body. Someone had to care for him. Even though his spirit had been torn from this world, he deserved his last rites.

  Zanya exhaled and draped a sheet over his face.

  Their mission to retrieve his soul could fail, and the boy she’d first met in the orphanage could be ripped out of her life, leaving an empty hole of memories and regret.

  She crouched beside Jayden, placed a kiss on his shrouded forehead, and whispered in his ear. “Hang on. I’m coming for you.” She tightened her grip on the cotton sheet. “I’ll get you back.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she choked back a flood of tears.

  Arwan placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and saw empathy behind his gaze. “We will get him back,” Arwan said. The silky tone of his voice usually comforted her, but not now. Not until Jayden was back, alive, and safe. It would happen somehow. She’d make sure of it.

  Zanya forced herself to stand. The fabric of her canary-yellow ball gown swooshed with the movement, a badge of blood smeared across the front. Jayden’s blood, and somehow that made it worse.

  First she needed to get out of her ridiculous dress. She wouldn’t be able to hike through the caves of Naj Tunich in a gown.

  Uncle Renato’s dress shoes tapped over the floor as he approached from behind. “I’m calling Peter.” He dialed a number on his phone, stealing the occasional glance at Contessa from the corner of his eye. “I hope he is still at the hotel.”

  “Make sure you don’t tell Tara where we’re going,” Zanya said. “She’ll freak out.”

  “As she should. This mission of yours may as well be a suicide attempt.” He frowned. “The king of the underworld will never allow you to leave there alive.” Renato walked outside to Contessa’s front step without another word.

  He was probably right, but she couldn’t turn her back on Jayden when he needed her the most. Suicide mission or not, she was going after him.

  Hawa moaned, tearing Zanya’s attention away from her thoughts. Hawa lay on Contessa’s couch with her leg elevated on a stack of pillows. The break was bad, but she wasn’t crying anymore. That was a good sign—even if Contessa had only healed Hawa to make her shut up. The red-haired witch had even had the audacity to say that aloud.

  Zanya’s stomach twisted.

  Renato walked back inside, the corners of his mouth sloped into an even deeper frown. “Peter did not react well to our plans. He insists on going with the two of you. He’s coming here right now.”

  “No, he can’t come with us. Tara will already be pissed at me for taking off without telling her. I can’t take Peter too.”

  “Then you should depart as quickly as possible.” Renato rested a hand on Arwan’s shoulder. “You and I have been friends for many years.” Renato nodded a single time. “I know you will take good care of her.”

  Determination sparked in Arwan’s eyes. Zanya didn’t doubt what Renato said was true. He would protect her, no matter the cost.

  Zanya bit her lip. She was moved he cared so much, but he was risking his life now too.

  The cab took nearly an hour to arrive. While the taxi waited by the curb, Zanya stood on Contessa’s doorstep. She and Arwan would drive straight to the airport, but first he’d have to come out of Contessa’s house. No doubt Renato was giving him every precaution to take before their journey.

  She gazed lifelessly at the mud-crusted rims and the fogged taxi light while her mind wandered between realms.

  Whispers yanked her out of her thoughts.

  You will never recover him. You are a failure, just as your mother was. But I have plans for you, and soon you will be mine.

  Zanya narrowed her eyes. She turned and peered over her shoulder, expecting to see someone there—someone she would promptly punch in the face for being such an asshole. But she was alone on the steps.

  Was she seriously going crazy?

  The blare of the taxi’s horn made her jump. It must be the stress, or the fact she had barely slept for the last few days. Deprivation played tricks on the mind.

  Renato’s voice became louder as he and Arwan walked toward the open door. He handed Arwan a credit card and some cash before they shook hands. The lines on her uncle’s face deepened when he turned to her and pulled her into a hug. As he cradled her against his tailored suit, the rich scent of tobacco surrounded her. All of her life she had wished for someone to care about her the way Renato seemed to, though she’d only known him for a short time. Still, his em
brace was enough to make her hesitant to say good-bye.

  “You must make it out of this journey alive,” he said in a raspy whisper. “Even if you do not succeed in retrieving Jayden’s spirit, please—” he held her tighter, “—return unharmed.”

  Zanya nodded and forced a smile. “I’m not planning on dying anytime soon. The stone needs me.”

  His grip loosened, and he looked down at her, his familiar brown eyes filled with a mixture of despair and pride. “The stone is not the only one who needs you, Zanya.”

  His fear was well founded. She was about to walk straight to the gates of hell with no knowledge of what to expect.

  “Now go,” Renato continued. “Go, and come home safely.”

  “Make sure to tell Tara…” Her throat ached. Damn. She couldn’t keep her emotions as hidden as she’d hoped. Leaving her best friend behind was something she’d sworn she’d never do. Not in the orphanage. Not after they were taken away from that place. Not ever. Now she was going against every oath she’d ever made to herself—and to her friend.

  Zanya reached into her bag and grabbed the pendant Cualli, the middleworld goddess, had given her. The pendant was a gift and an omen of support, and usually it calmed Zanya.

  Arwan lifted a duffle bag from the floor. He traced his fingers down her cheek, holding her gaze until she finally allowed a hint of a true smile to break through. His touch was all he could give to comfort her. Showing him it had worked, even a little, was the least she could do. After all, he insisted on going with her, and there was nothing she could do to repay that.

  The cab’s horn blared again. Zanya jumped and glared at the taxi. “You’d think he’d be happy to just sit there with the meter running.”

  Arwan shook Renato’s hand one last time. Zanya shifted her weight, her feet rooted to the ground as she contemplated one last hug. When she glanced at her uncle, her eyes stung with more tears. He must have noticed her hesitation. Maybe even understood it.

  With a soft smile, Zanya walked straight to the cab without any more good-byes.

  ***

  In the dressing room of the sporting goods store, Zanya checked herself in the mirror, horrified at what she saw. Wet, limp hair stuck to her cheeks and neck. A huge bloodstain spread over the front of her once-beautiful gown, which was now smeared with mud and torn in several places. Her cheeks were burned from the biting cold, and her nose was so red she could pass for Rudolph.

  She sighed and worked at removing the pins and ties from her hair until it was finally undone, and then used one of the ties to lock it in a bun. The next thing would be to get out of her dress and change into something warm and dry.

  Zanya turned to the side and craned her neck as she fumbled with the strings lacing the back of her gown. The damn thing was laced so tight there was no way she could do it herself.

  Zanya sighed. Perfect.

  She grabbed the dressing room curtain and pulled it aside. “Arwan?”

  “Hm?” He lifted his head from his hand where it was rested, his eyes half-glazed over with sleep. Her shoulders slumped forward. The poor guy was exhausted. She couldn’t blame him. He’d been through a lot these last few days. They all had.

  “I just…” She pointed to her back. “I need some help with this corset thing.” The man sitting two chairs to the left of Arwan gawked at her. Zanya made double sure the curtain hid the stain on her dress.

  Arwan stood and eased toward her. “Turn around.”

  She noticed more people shopping and several men slumped in the rows of chairs in the waiting area. “Uh, no. Come inside.” There was no way she’d let him undo this thing with everyone around. The fact she had to ask for help undressing was humiliating enough.

  He opened the curtain and slipped in, then secured it behind him. He rested his hands on her waist. “Turn around.”

  She did and stood with her back straight, watching his reflection in the mirror while he worked at loosening her bodice.

  The pressure around her ribcage eased, and she drew in a deep breath. “Oh thank God. That thing was killing me.”

  The air caressed her skin as the damp corset slowly opened, exposing the curves of her back. She crossed her arms over her chest to prevent the top half of the gown from falling off. The tightly laced ribbon was the only thing holding her top in place.

  Arwan worked to unlace the last of the silk ribbon. His fingers brushed against her lower back, spreading warmth up her spine. She studied him in the mirror. He was soaked and miserable, yet he hadn’t complained—not even once.

  “You should go get changed,” she said. “I can handle it from here.”

  He rested his hands on her shoulders, and his gaze slid over her bare back.

  Besides riding together in the taxi, they hadn’t spent more than a few moments alone since London. The longing she had carried all this time now overwhelmed her.

  He placed a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she gripped her dress tighter, tilting her head to the side and exposing her neck.

  “Arwan,” she whispered. This wasn’t really the best place, never mind the fact she probably smelled like wet dog.

  He hooked her elbow and gently spun her around. Her heart was no longer hers. It belonged to him completely, and even though they’d only met recently, it seemed as if they’d known each other for a lifetime.

  Whatever drew them to each other—whatever made her promise herself to him so completely—they had a bond that would never be broken. Even though the bond had surprised her, she’d made it with all of her heart.

  He cradled her face. “If anything happened to you…” His jaw tightened. She wanted to press her fingers against his chest and run her hands along the curves of his shoulders.

  He brushed his thumb along her lips, and his eyes flickered to them. “Si algo te hubiera pasado…me hubiera roto el corazόn.”

  Her chest tightened. She really, really needed to learn Spanish. But regardless of what he said, hearing him whisper like that made her weak in the knees. Not because of the words, but the way he said them and the heightened intensity of his gaze.

  He pulled her close and kissed her, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other caressing her cheek. The light in her chest, the mark of her heritage and power, flickered on and filled her with the cold energy it always brought.

  She pried her arms free and wrapped them around his neck. With the top of her gown pinned between their bodies, the sides of the corset fell open, exposing the curves of her waist. He ran his hands along the length of her bare back before settling them on her hips.

  The light in her chest brightened, and electricity spread over her skin. His lips curved into a smile, causing her to pause. “Your heart’s racing.” His gaze flickered to her chest. “I can hear it.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair and drew him closer, into a kiss. He didn’t object but held her with a tenderness he hadn’t shown before. Her light dimmed as a new type of passion took over.

  She didn’t just want him, she wanted his heart, forever.

  “Ahem.” A woman on the other side of the curtain cleared her throat, sounding annoyed. Zanya pulled away and looked down. At the bottom of the curtain, she saw the foot of a store employee tapping impatiently. “Is everything all right in there, or do I need to call security?”

  Zanya’s cheeks blazed with heat.

  “Maybe we should finish getting our supplies,” Arwan said in a low voice. He faced the curtain with a crooked grin.

  Zanya nodded, and he slipped out of the dressing room to speak to the woman waiting outside. His tone was apologetic while he explained Zanya’s wardrobe malfunction.

  The time is getting closer now, a voice whispered in her mind.

  She shut her eyes and tried to block it out. The light in her chest grew warm rather than cold, making her stomach gurgle with a sick heat.

  Prepare to rule under me, the voice continued.

  Zanya cupped her hands over her ears and squ
inted her eyes shut.

  You are mine. Don’t ever believe differently.

  The whispers had begun after she’d claimed the ancient Mayan relic and taken it back from Sarian. She suspected this voice was his, reaching through the only link they shared and using one of the few things she loved to drive her mad.

  After spending more than she could comprehend at the sporting goods store, Zanya and Arwan loaded all of their new supplies into two hiking packs. With Cualli’s pendant hanging around her neck, Zanya unzipped the front pocket and transferred the very last and most important item.

  Her stone.

  The only pocket big enough to accommodate the large oval stone was the one at the front of the pack. The stone’s energy scraped against her skin, raw and sharp from Sarian’s partial hold. He may have broken the spell set upon the stone at its creation that made it obey only the guardian, but it still recognized her.

  Unfortunately, unlike when she’d bonded with it, her stone no longer spoke to her. It was quiet. Too quiet.

  Its colors morphed and pulsed, transforming from its normal hues of white and blue to deep violet and brown. Its polluted energy burned her skin as if she were handling a hot coal. She wanted to flinch away, but ground her teeth and cradled the stone closer. She had to prove it was home, where it belonged. Luckily she could heal after her brief encounters with the stone.

  “Are you ready?” Arwan stood and slung his pack over his shoulder.

  She rubbed her temples, then blinked to clear her vision.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Zanya shook her head. “Nothing. I just have a headache and…” She considered telling him about the whispers, but that would only worry him. If she got some rest, her mind would be stronger and maybe more capable of fending off the mental attacks. She stood and slipped on her backpack. “Never mind. It’s not important. Let’s go.”

  Acknowledgements