“Do you find it odd the oracle has not come for her journal?”
Nala waved her hands dismissively. “Don’t worry over it, we'll use it for our purposes and destroy it when we're done. What of the conversions?”
“They're going well.” Lev held up the worn leather journal. “The names in this book are proving to be very useful.”
"Lucky for us the oracle's ancestors felt the need to keep track of the scattered tribe. That journal carries the name of every member of the tribe brought over to the United States as a slave." Nala smiled. "Too bad the Oracle was not more careful with her family heirlooms."
"It makes tracing the descendents of the Aje tribe easier than ever."
The leather journal had been a boon for Maksim. It would've saved him the time of searching out the members of the tribe himself. Only members of the Aje tribe could be converted into the powerful Ajo vampires and once Maksim figured out how to harness that power, his greed became limitless. Nala would take full advantage of the power her lover harvested and use it for her revenge.
“And the council?” she queried. The Ajo council consisted of the twelve oldest living and powerful Ajo, the determination it took to sustain their sanity and wield the stolen power made the council feared by all under them.
“In the dark. As far as they are concerned you are adhering to the orders they gave Maksim to stop the conversions. I've assured them you would not be so foolish as to endanger the treaty the council has with the Demi.” Lev's tone was dry, his eyebrows rose in mockery.
Nala nodded, happy with the news. A team of the strongest of the supernatural community enforced the treaty. The Amanda suffered no fools, and were best avoided.
She narrowed her eyes, roaming Lev's face shrewdly. There was a small twinge of regret, possibly guilt for what she'd done, but it was squelched firmly and quickly. She couldn't afford for any soft feelings to take root. To lead her own group she needed to be ruthless, there was no room for sentiment. The Ajo were dangerous on a good day, insane on their worst, she would lose her life quickly if any person under her spotted any weaknesses.
“He was weak and obsessed, Lev,” she said after a moment. Her eyes hardened when he gave a lazy shrug. Nala felt the disrespect intended in the motion.
“You were Maksim's only weakness.” He faked nonchalance, but rage simmered below the surface. “He became obsessed with pleasing you. In the end it allowed you the opportunity to kill him. I should thank you for the lesson; I now know that even lovers are not exempt from your betrayals. I won't make the mistake of trusting you.”
Nala thrust her power at him, slamming him into the wall. “I did not ask for your trust.” Her eye twitched as anger threatened to steal her control. “You were Maksim’s second in command, but you are nothing to me.”
Lev jerked against her invisible hold. His teeth bared in a hiss as his shirt was torn from his body. Nala sat calm in her dead lover’s chair behind the teak desk Maksim loved so much and stared at his second in command. She made sure the contempt showed through her eyes.
“I am still second in command,” he choked out defiantly.
Nala’s blow struck the side of his face before he even noticed she'd moved. She was in his face, her nails digging into his cheeks as she gripped his chin.
“Only because I allow it,” she whispered. “From your defiance I can only assume you enjoy the beatings I hand out to you.”
Lev’s body jerked in reaction to her words.
“You think I haven’t noticed you watching me? Even when you stood at your beloved master’s side, you have watched me, Lev. Coveting what was his, wishing it were you between my thighs instead of him.”
His face betrayed him. Lust expanded his pupils, and a blush mottled his cheekbones.
She cupped his growing erection and squeezed, taking delight in the pain that filled his eyes. “I'll have to think of more creative ways to keep you in line.” She released her power and he dropped to the floor. "That's all for now, Lev." She turned her back to him and smiled when the door slammed a moment later.
"You will have trouble with that one, Nala." She rolled her eyes when the voice spoke from the shadows of the bookshelf.
"I'm not worried about Lev. He'll do as I ask, he has no place else to go." Nala waved her hand dismissing the warning. "How can I help you, councilman?"
"I was sent to check on your progress with gaining the amulet." He kept to the shadows, careful not to show her his face. It made no difference. Nala had studied the council members thoroughly and she knew them well. He could not hide his identity from her.
"I will have the amulet, but I won't be rushed."
"Maksim got closer." The councilman taunted.
Nala laughed, she was not so easily riled. "Maksim captured the Oracle, but he found out quick enough he couldn't use her without the amulet."
The councilman's aggravation vibrated in his tense silence. "There are some who object the amount of conversions you are doing." He tried another tactic.
"The council wants an army, I'll give them one, but I will have my power also." Nala snapped. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm can be led like Maksim. If they are jealous of the power I hold, then I would suggest they convert more Ajo."
"You know that is not possible, the treaty-"
"Yes, the treaty requires that we not convert any Ajo. If I am to risk the Amanda coming down on my head, it's only right that I have the power to defend myself. I'm the one taking all the risks."
"Don't get ahead of yourself Nala, Maksim was taken down, don't think the same can't be said for you," he warned. His voice dropped an octave, compulsion weaved into the deep timbre.
She lowered her head to keep him from seeing the hate in her eyes.
"In war, there are many casualties; the council is the only thing between you and the other Ajo who would gladly kill you for the power you hold." He left with that warning in the air.
Nala let out a relieved breath at his departure. He was right, there were many who would kill her to gain her power. It was necessary to get the amulet, it was the only way to keep the wolves at bay.
Chapter 7
DALIA ROLLED HER SHOULDERS, and stretched her arms to test her muscles. She twisted her body, waiting on the soreness that normally accompanied her rapid healing. There was none. After the fight she and Nala had, Dalia expected her body to be screaming in protest.
She checked the clock and slumped back on the sofa in relief. Only an hour had passed- she would not fry on her mother's couch with the rising sun. The smell of freshly baked bread tickled her nose and brought tears to her eyes. Some things never changed. For as long as she was alive her mother baked bread, that smell would always comfort her.
She gingerly touched the wound on her neck and frowned, she touched the one on her shoulder. They were nearly healed. It usually took her an entire rising before her injuries healed, sometimes two. Had to be Bron's blood, there was no other explanation.
“Dalia, do you want something to eat?” her mother called from the kitchen.
“Mama, it is four o’clock in the morning. You should be resting, not cooking for me. Besides, I'm a vampire, we only drink blood.”
Isabelle snorted and continued to putter around the kitchen, dismissing her daughter’s tone. “Please child, it takes more than blood to sustain a body. I'm up, there's food, are you eating or not?”
“Yes ma’am.” Dalia laughed and stood up from the sofa. “I would love some of your bread.” She walked to the kitchen. Her mother amazed her. How did she manage to cook without her sight?
“Sit.” Her mother set two places at the kitchen table. She turned and attacked the countertops with a sponge. The dishwasher churned next to the stove.
"How can you tell when the counters are clean?"
"Child please, I can feel dirt and crumbs. Mary deep cleans when she comes through."
Huh, made sense.
“Mama you said you were able to see things, what does that m
ean?”
Isabelle's movement slowed, and for a moment Dalia thought she would ignore her question.
“The women in our family have always been able to see things.” She ran water over the sponge and started on the sink, the cleaning an obvious delaying tactic. “We have been gifted to be able to see things beyond the veil.”
Dalia perked up. “The veil?”
“Sí, things that are not of this world. The afterlife, for some. You wonder why I don't leave this house. Your father’s spirit is here and I talk with him every day.” The ding of the oven bell punctuated her statement.
Dalia watched her mom, stunned. “Why haven't you told us about this?”
“Everything in its time and place.” Isabelle said in answer. She dried her hands and grabbed the potholder. Her movements precise, her mother removed the hot bread from the oven. “You have a part of my sister in you now, and soon you will become familiar with the veil.” She placed the bread in the middle of the table and touched Dalia on the shoulder.
Dalia frowned as her mother moved to leave the room. “You set two places, aren’t you joining me?”
“That second place is for your young man.”
“I don’t have a young man.” Dalia narrowed her eyes.
No way he could find her here, right?
Her mother scoffed and moved to the front door. There was a quiet knock and Isabelle opened the door to Bron. He stepped into the house and immediately his presence charged the air in the room, taking up more space than Dalia was comfortable with. He looked casual and at ease, very laid back for someone who had just saved her life. He wore a pair of faded jeans that hung loose from his hips, but she would not call them baggy. No, the way those jeans fit his butt was anything other than baggy. The t-shirt he wore was tight across his chest and the front was tucked into his jeans as though he got dressed in a hurry.
She turned her back to them, furious at the heat that pooled low in her abdomen. She didn’t know what it was about this guy. She would’ve liked to know how he kept finding her. It was starting to get downright eerie.
His powerful form towered over her mother’s more diminutive frame, but his soft tone and movements were gentle as he and her mother spoke. They spoke in a language she didn’t recognize. Dalia refused to look up as her mother escorted Bron into the kitchen. His scent drifted to her as he stopped right next to her chair, clean and earthy, it wrapped around her. Reluctantly she met his eyes and wished she hadn’t. His eyes promised things that made her body tingle; they were intense and focused solely on her.
“Dalia, this man will hopefully have answers for you about your purpose.” Isabelle motioned for Bron to sit and left the two of them alone.
Dalia eyed Bron as he broke off a piece of bread and ate as though nothing in the world was wrong.
“Really? That’s what’s hot in the streets? You’re just going to sit there and eat like you’re not stalking me?” His arrogance staggered her.
Bron shrugged his shoulders and continued eating. The nonchalant motion pushed her anger up another notch.
“What are you doing here?”
“Right now?” He spread butter across his bread. “I am enjoying some of the best bread I've had for a while. I can never manage to make bread this way. Do you think it's the water? I've heard the water makes a difference.”
Dalia fumed. She slammed her hand against the table in a burst of anger. “How do you know my mother?”
Bron continued eating, his movements unrushed. “More like your mother knows me. I’ll have to ask her how she bakes this bread.”
“Get serious,” she demanded.
“I am serious.” He smiled.
Damn, the things his smile did to her, butterflies took flight in her chest. Dalia shook her head to dislodge her traitorous thoughts. “How are you finding me?”
Bron cocked his head. He sighed and dropped the rest of his bread back onto the plate. “First, you need to calm down, your emotions are making it difficult for my… me to be calm.”
“Are you threatening me?” She leaned back in her chair.
“Not threatening, Dalia. It's hard for me to concentrate when your emotions are heightened.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her closer.
A spark of power went through her hand where it joined his. Dalia snatched her hand away and eyed him suspiciously.
“Are you feeling better?” He changed the subject.
Dalia shrugged her shoulder. “Yes.”
Bron stared and Dalia squirmed under the scrutiny. His dark eyes belied his easygoing manner; they searched her face, trying to ferret out her carefully guarded secrets.
“The wounds are almost healed, you didn’t need to come here to check on me.” She lowered her head to break the eye contact.
Bron shifted in his seat and resumed eating. “How often do you have to feed?”
Dalia blinked at the change in subject. She stared nonplussed. He didn't get the hint that she wanted him to leave.
Incredible.
“I have to feed everyday.” She didn't elaborate.
They stared at each other.
Dalia rolled her eyes when she realized Bron had no plans to leave. An awkward silence descended the table. She cut a slice of bread to occupy her hands.
“How is it you are able to eat?” Bron asked after a moment.
Dalia made a sound of impatience. “Vampires are not dead. When we’re turned, we die yes, but we're brought back to life. We still have to eat to sustain our body. The blood is to keep our organs functioning. It allows our heart to function same as yours.”
“Huh, I didn’t know that.”
“Well, despite the fact that you're following me around willy nilly, there are plenty of things you don’t know about me."
"You consider yourself vampire?" His tone was curious, sincere.
"I consume blood, can't go out in the daytime," she snapped holding up a finger for each point she made. "Oh and a vampire converted me, soo yes, I think I qualify as a vampire."
BRON NODDED. She fidgeted, her movements, jerky, aggravated. She was angry and the sparks that lit her eyes only made her more beautiful. Bron wanted to lean over and kiss the stubborn line of her mouth until she melted against him. He asked her the question that burned through his mind since he met her.
“Did you choose to become what you are?”
She stiffened and turned her head. “Why are so interested in vampires?”
Bron quickly deduced that subject was not up for discussion. “I'm not so much interested in vampires as I’m interested in you.”
Her eyes betrayed her for only a moment, but he saw that flare of interest. She was wary of him, and he could understand that.
“Don’t be.” She ordered.
Bron chuckled at her defiance. “Yes, ma’am.”
Dalia’s lips twitched in amusement. “You said when we met you could tell what I was.”
Bron nodded at her unspoken question. “Your tattoos.”
“What about the tattoos?”
Knowledge lay in her eyes. She knew the tattoos marked her for what she was. He raised an eyebrow. He would play her game for now.
“The tattoos are ancient symbols of the wind, our goddess’s way of marking and warning the tribe."
“Are you searching for vampires like me?” Suspicion darkened her eyes, turning the whiskey depths deep brown.
“Not vampires, Ajo, and we hunt them.” It occurred to him once the words were out of his mouth that it could've been said in a better way. She flinched, and he forced his beast down as she stood feet apart, fist clenched at her sides. Her anger filled the room.
“What do you mean hunt?”
Bron didn't answer.
Her anger spiked.
He grabbed her hand a second before it could connect with his face.
“Calm down, Dalia. I didn't come to hurt you.” His voice was calm but his body heated, turned on by her. She was beautiful in her anger.
Dalia fought
against his hold. Panic, arousal both swirled in her eyes, and warmed her skin under his hand.
Weak
He pulled the unspoken word from her thoughts. “You’re not weak, Dalia. Whatever is going on between us does not make you weak in any way.”
She hissed at him and he loosened his grip, allowing her to snatch her hand away.
"Great, you read minds too." Contempt dripped from her voice as she stepped around him.
Damn it, would she always run from him?
“Dalia, wait,” Bron called catching up to her and grabbing her shoulder. She shrugged him off and he followed her out the door to another building behind the house. He made another attempt to detain her, but she ignored him and tried to close the door. She cursed when she saw his foot blocking it.
“Leave me alone." She struggled for a few moments before giving up and turning her back to him. “I don’t want you here.”
Again, Bron ignored her, stepping into her room. He scanned the room taking in the sparse furniture. Her scent permeated the small space, and a sharp stab of longing took him off guard.
“What do you want from me?” Her broken whisper surprised them both. She cleared her throat.
Bron stepped closer to her. Need clawed his insides, the emotion in her voice drawing him.
She backed up another step. “You can say it from there.”
Bron moved closer to her until she was backed against her bed. Cupping her chin he looked into her eyes. “What I want is to not hurt you, Dalia.” He kept eye contact needing her to see his sincerity.
Dalia stared into his eyes. A battle waged, all broadcasted in her eyes. Lust, mistrust, it all floated in their rich depths. It was the loneliness that struck him. Understanding flooded, and inexplicably connected them. Her eyes lowered and the connection was lost.
'Trust me just a little, rewà. I can keep the loneliness away.' Bron whispered in her mind.
Dalia shivered from the intimate touch. She raised her eyes and shoved at his chest. “I'm not lonely.” She poked her finger into his chest. “I don’t need your pity. And just so we're straight, there is nothing between us.”
A Destiny Revealed Page 5