The Oracle lay motionless on her bed, her sheets covered with blood, her álà-írín in the corner of the room slumped over. Bron’s eyes darted to his twin brother staring with eyes glossed over with death. He slipped on the blood on the floor as he ran to Nuru’s side. The midwife's hoarse cry was the only sound in the room. He sobbed quietly, finding it hard to breathe through the hole his brother’s death created. Bron’s head moved from side to side in denial, he lifted his head and roared his grief profound. His body shook with his sobs, his grief and guilt all consuming. He was sent on a simple errand and death is what he returned to.
“I am sorry Nuru,” he choked out, “I should have never left you alone.”
Bron woke in a cold sweat. The dream was always the same accompanied by crushing guilt. He closed his eyes to block out the bloody images. Rolling over, he pushed himself off the bed and padded across the room. His destination, the bureau against the wall, it held a small wooden statue about ten inches tall.
Heart heavy, Bron grabbed it and cradled it carefully in his palm. The ibeji was carved in the likeness of his brother. A small cowrie-shell necklace adorned the statue at its neck and around its waist. The wood was worn smooth from years of his touch and Bron felt a small measure of comfort holding it. Bringing it to his lips he kissed it and set it back carefully on the bureau. Even after centuries, he still longed to talk to his brother. He braced his arms on the dresser and fought the tide of grief threatening to drag him down. Most days he could deal with the death of his twin, but the nightmare made it harder.
He ran his hands over his head and winced. Much like the lion they carried, the warriors grew their hair long as a mark of pride. He’d worn his short for over five centuries, showing the world his grief, his guilt. He would cut it before he met Dalia this evening. The diamond next to the ibeji drew his attention. The stone caught the light and prisms danced on the surface. Another wave of guilt turned his stomach, this one for what must be done. He knew Dalia’s strong nature. She wouldn’t willingly give up anything that could potentially make her weaker. A light brush touched his mind and he forced his body to relax.
'Bron, is everything okay?' Dalia’s touch was tentative, careful.
Bron breathed a sigh of relief. Her presence pushed aside the last remnants of his nightmare. Had she realized how easily she slipped into his mind?
'It is now,' he reassured her. 'You're up early.'
'I know it’s strange. Normally I’m unable to wake until well after the sun’s gone down. What time will you be here?'
'At eight.' He shook off the last of his melancholy. 'Wear something nice for me.' He smiled as he felt her amusement.
'What, you got something against my clothes?'
He laughed. 'Not with the way you wear them.'
'I’ll see what I can do.' She withdrew from his mind.
Bron whirled around as someone powerful entered his room. “Is it too much to ask that you knock, cub?”
Fynn cocked his head and smiled. “Knocking is overrated.”
“To what do I owe the honor?” Bron walked into the kitchenette to fix coffee.
“I can always tell when you’ve had ‘the dream’.” Fynn settled into a chair.
Bron let out a breath of air. “Call it what it is, a nightmare.”
“I brought cards,” Fynn offered, pulling them from his back pocket. He and Bron had been playing this game for centuries. “If you’re up to it I can kick you around in gin for a couple of hours, help you forget.”
Fynn always attempted to distract Bron after his nightmares. It seemed to be Fynn’s way of taking care of the man that had taken care of him for so long.
Bron stared at Fynn in appreciation. Ignoring the coffee pot, he sat on the other side of the table. “You’re a good person. You always were.” He motioned for Fynn to deal.
“That’s a lot of guilt you carry around, Bron. You practically raised me. I think my mother would consider your debt paid.”
Bron concentrated on his cards. “It's not as easy as that. The loss of my brother has yet to be atoned for. I was not where I should’ve been.”
“Had you been there, you would’ve died also, bàbá. I wouldn’t be the man I am today, had you died. Hell, I wouldn’t be here today, had you died. You can’t take the blame for things outside of your control.” Fynn argued the same point every morning Bron woke up after what he dubbed, ‘the dream’.
“My mistake cost me our leader’s trust. That’s no easy thing to live with.”
Fynn snorted. “The Ijoye doesn’t trust anyone, his son included. I wouldn’t worry overmuch about it.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I, bàbá. Your brother wouldn’t want to see you like this and you've honored your promise to my mother, it's time to let go of the guilt.”
Bron could feel the sincerity of Fynn’s words and this morning they struck a chord.
“Does the Ijoye know you call me father?”
Fynn’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “As far as I’m concerned you are my father. The Ijoye and I have made our peace, stop trying to change the subject.” Fynn played his cards and shook his head.
Bron stared at the card Fynn played, avoiding his eyes. “The Ijoye blames me for your mother’s death. It’s hard to overcome guilt when I'm constantly reminded of my part in our punishment.”
Fynn stopped and stared at him in shock. “He’s said this to you?”
“If anyone knows the extent of my powers, cub, it's you.” Bron put down his cards and gave up the pretense of concentrating on the game.
Fynn shook his head. “I’ve long given up trying to hide anything from you. It can't be easy knowing the truth behind the words most people use as cover.”
“Most people hide their feelings from themselves, so I don't take offense.”
“It could be the Ijoye doesn't understand his feelings towards you either.” Fynn offered.
“Maybe.” Doubtful, but he'd never tell Fynn that.
“The Ijoye’s a hard man to please. I know that more than most. Let him deal with his own issues regarding my mother’s death, you can't take on the guilt he feels for his part in it.”
Bron allowed Fynn’s concern to sooth him.
“You’ve had the dream more often these past couple of days, do you think your task has anything to do with it?” Fynn asked quietly.
“She is Ajo. It was Ajo vampires who attacked our temple, so yeah, Dalia has a lot to do with the dream coming back.”
“Dalia didn’t attack the temple. Don’t let the past ruin your chances for happiness in the present.”
Bron laughed. “You dare throw my own words back in my face?”
“It was good advice. You should try and use it.” Fynn stood to leave. “Any time you need your ass kicked in gin give me a call, bàbá.”
Bron smiled as Fynn teleported from the room.
***
DALIA OPENED THE DOOR at Bron’s insistent knock. She'd just finish with her make-up. He stood at her doorstep looking impossibly handsome. His eyes swept her body and she smiled at the heat. She’d found the dress she wore in the back of her closet and was glad she chose it. It hugged her body until it reached her waist flaring around her knees. Tiny straps held it up and crisscrossed in the back. The low neckline of the dress stopped just short of indecent. She’d straightened and brushed her hair until it shone. The dark tresses trailed her shoulders and ended at the middle of her back. If the small hiss from him was any indication, he noticed.
And he liked.
Bron pushed the heavy mass aside and leaned over to lay a kiss on her neck, he inhaled her scent. “Green is my favorite color,” he whispered in her ear.
Dalia shivered as he kissed her neck again. His eyes were intense, lust turning them a deep brown.
“You look gorgeous.” He told her.
“You clean up nicely, yourself.” She gave him the same once over he’d given her. He was wearing a pair of black slacks and polo shirt. T
he deep blue made his dark skin gleam. It hinted at the muscles she imagined would be underneath. He’d gotten a haircut since she last saw him. His hair was cropped short against his head.
“I made us reservations at the local Beach club for dinner.” He escorted her through the yard.
“That’s fine.” She led him to her mother’s house, quickly checking to see if she needed anything before they left. They walked in companionable silence to the restaurant.
She watched him as they sat across the table from each other. Something in his eyes belied his seemingly good mood. She studied him as they ordered their dinner.
“You’re staring.” His lips turned up in a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
He cocked his head to the side and looked at her.
“I can tell something’s wrong, Bron.”
He sighed and took a sip of his wine. “It’s nothing to do with you. I don’t want it to affect our night.”
She shrugged and said nothing.
He sighed again in frustration, looking away.
“I felt your sadness earlier, and there are hints of it still in your eyes.” The heat she saw in his eyes was there too, sending shivers down her spine. She wanted to address the sadness first, though she wasn’t sure why she pushed him for an answer. She shouldn’t care one way or the other if he was sad but she did.
“That’s a conversation for later.” He kissed her fingertips lightly. “Tell me about yourself.”
“There's not much to tell.” She narrowed her eyes when he laughed.
“You have a real problem with questions, huh?” His smile was genuine.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Okay, when did you become, Ajo?”
She stiffened, all playfulness gone. “The seventies.”
Bron raised his eyebrows waiting on the rest of the answer.
She sighed. “I was twenty seven. I went out with my girlfriends one night, and let’s just say the night ended badly." A serious understatement. Her mind flashed back to that cold basement and the restraints that dug into her wrist.
“What happened?”
She was tortured by a psychopath. “That is a conversation for later.” She threw his words back at him.
He grimaced and raised his glass in a mock toast.
She forced a smile and relaxed.
“My brother passed away a while ago, centuries really,” he said suddenly.
She gave him a blank look.
“The sadness you felt earlier,” he said in answer. “I dream of it often, and it brings up a host of memories I would rather suppress.”
Dalia’s heart went out to him and she grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what she’d do when she lost her brother.
“We were twins. Someone attacked our temple and killed everyone inside. My brother was guarding the first oracle at the time, and he died protecting her.” He confided. “As a warrior, there is no greater honor than that. For those left behind there is no consolation.”
She sensed that he felt some guilt over it. She thought about how old he was and leaned across the table lowering her voice.
“What kind of warrior are you? If you're not like me, then what are you?”
“We're shape shifters. My brothers and I possess the spirit of lions within us. Our beasts give us the instincts and power that allow us to hunt the Ajo.” He explained.
Dalia’s eyes lit with curiosity. “A lion, huh?"
Bron gave her a smile that allowed her to see the beast just below the surface. Dalia shivered, but not in fear.
Bron responded to the imperceptible move by growling low in his throat.
Dalia should be afraid of him, but lust didn’t allow room for anything else. She licked her lips. His eyes darted to her mouth and he slid his chair over to hers. His eyes glowed and for a moment she saw the animal in him. Need swamped her body and she shifted in the chair aware of moisture gathering between her legs. Bron’s nostril flared as though he scented her arousal.
And didn’t that just make her hotter.
Her lips parted on a gasp as a low snarl from him heated her body. The waiter placed their food on the table, shattering the connection. Bron cursed, sliding his chair back across the table. The tension was still high as they ate dinner. The heated looks they sent each other further heating her.
“Do you change often?” Dalia asked, breaking the tension, once they were done eating.
“No, I don’t actively hunt, so I only change when I get restless, which I have to say happens a lot around you.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
Dalia laughed with him. “I want to see.”
“Maybe,” Bron said evasively. He paid their bill, escorting her out of the restaurant, his hand on the small of her back.
“What would a bunch of shape shifters want with me?”
Bron shook his finger at her. “None of that talk tonight, remember? This is a date.”
They walked through the streets talking. An hour or so later her body weakened.
“What’s wrong?” he stopped.
She thought she hid it better. “Nothing, I haven't fed tonight, so I'm a little tired.” “Dalia,” he started carefully. “While we are together, will you allow me to provide for you?”
Dalia stared at him for a moment weighing his offer. She worried about allowing the intimacy. Could she handle this man? The heat in his eyes fired her blood, and pushed her doubts aside. There was no harm in his offering, and she wanted him with a passion she’d never experienced. He stepped closer and his scent wrapped around her, the pulse at his neck called to her.
Damn the consequences, she would take what she wanted.
Chapter 11
“I DIDN'T WANT TO DO THIS IN THE STREET,” she explained minutes later as she let him into her room. That sounded lame even to her ears, but if she needed to spell it out for him she would be very disappointed. She moved to her closet and removed her shoes.
“It would probably have been safer there,” he challenged, his voice low.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Do you want safe?”
Bron’s body hardened in response, he stepped closer to her. “I want you.” His voice was husky with need.
Dalia tossed her hair over her shoulder, and sauntered to him, her hips swaying seductively. Bron watched her, his lids hooded. His chest expanded with his deep breath, drawing her eyes. Tension radiated from his body. His hands clenched and unclenched and she smiled as he battled his arousal.
“Let me take care of you, Dalia.” He whispered in her ear when she reached him.
Dalia shuddered as Bron pulled her into his body. She kissed him on his clenched jaw and sighed, he really was too sexy for his own good. She trailed light kisses down the column of his throat and lingered at the crook of his neck.
Dalia inhaled his erotic scent, licking his pulse tentatively. Bron arched, and she sucked on his neck, pulling his skin between her teeth.
“Dalia, stop teasing.” His voice was a harsh rasp as he ground his hips into hers.
She chuckled, still biting down on him. His erection flexed, nudging her stomach. Her teeth broke skin and she closed her eyes in bliss. Bron’s hands moved soothingly up and down her back, seducing Dalia by the intimacy of the act. When she was done, she slowly licked across his neck. Shaken, she pulled from him.
Bron stared down at her, neither of them wanted to break the intimate silence. He leaned down and gave her a tender kiss, one she'd been imagining all night while they were out. Magic thrummed between them and she felt invisible strings tying her to this man. Her heart stuttered, slamming against her ribs.
Dalia moaned, wrapping her arms around him, her body moving against his in anticipation. Bron licked at the seam of her lips, demanding entry. His hands traced her hips and he reached around to squeeze her. His grip was tight, the small pain its own pleasure.
He released her hips to trace his fingers down her thighs. Her lip
s parted in a gasp as his hands found their way under her dress. Bron took advantage of her open mouth to deepen their kiss, his tongue plunging, branding her. His fingers trailed up her thighs, causing small sparks to move through her blood.
'Tell me if this isn’t what you want, Dalia.' Bron’s voice whispered through her mind. He nibbled his way down the column of her throat. He cupped her intimately.
Dalia nearly swallowed her tongue at how good it felt. She could only nod her assent.
He moved her panties aside, growling when he found her wet. The low rumble went through her body and she squirmed, wrapping one leg around his waist to give him better access.
He used his finger to test her entrance.
His knees buckled when he felt the heat from her. As he pushed further, Dalia threw her head back, her mouth parting in pleasure, her arms tightened around his neck. Bron watched her possessively, his beast clawing at him, driving him to give her more, to take more. He lightly scraped his teeth across her neck, his fingers keeping up their steady pace between her legs. Her moans of pleasure were tearing through him, making it hard to control himself. His breathing was ragged as he kissed his way down her shoulder.
“Sorry,” Bron whispered breathlessly.
Dalia opened her eyes slowly, dazed. “For what?”
She barely got the question out before Bron grabbed the front of her dress and ripped. The cloth fell away, leaving Dalia’s breast exposed to him. Her nipples hardened in anticipation. The fact that she was not wearing a bra tightened his erection to the point of pain.
“Beautiful,” he whispered reverently, taking one of the hard pebbles into his mouth.
Dalia held his head in place, moving her body in time with his fingers. Her walls tightened around his fingers, clamping hard. Goddess, he wouldn't last if she kept up those mewling sounds.
He moved his attention to the other breast, lavishing the brown point. Dalia grabbed his head and brought him up for a kiss. Their tongues dueled, her taste driving him crazy. The mating bond flared, and his beast clawed at him, the need for its mate all-consuming.
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