“Baba, we don’t have to go through this, we can-” Fynn tried to interject.
"You still call him father?" Bakari's question whipped through the early morning air. Everything in the forest stilled, sensing the predator so close.
Fynn lifted his chin. "He raised me, Ijoye. I have called him father my whole life."
Bakari roared, the sound shaking the trees and scattering birds for miles. His hands clenched and snarls rumbled his chest. "Have you not taken enough from me?"
Bron held the Ijoye's gaze, "I didn't set out to take your place, Ijoye. I did what I thought was right."
"You don't have to explain yourself, Bron." Fynn stepped between the two men.
“No Fynn, let us hear his excuses." Saleem's voice was low, the timbre indicating how close his beast was.
They were in a dangerous situation. Heightened tempers drove the lions closer to breaking to free. One false move by either of them and it would be a fight for dominancy.
“I could've kept your mate safe, Saleem. You could've let her stay in the temple with me, but your pride wouldn't let another take care of what was yours.” Bron refused to allow Saleem to lay Aissa's death at his feet. “You arrogantly thought you would be there when she needed you. Fynn and I had to watch her die because you weren't as good as you thought you were.”
Saleem growled, taking a step closer to Bron. He stood his ground, refusing to back down.
“Why would I have trusted you with my mate? You failed the single most important task of your life.” Saleem snarled.
“You should never have left them alone, Bron.” Bakari added.
"You should have never left us alone." Bron's control snapped. "I lost my brother! Instead of fighting at his side, I had to leave to take care your mate. Your mate, Bakari. She needed you, and instead of being at her side during the birth of your son, you just had to save the world. So, if you want to pass around blame, Ijoye, make sure you serve yourself a helping first.”
“That's enough, baba,” Fynn whispered.
“No, he's right, Fynn. I should've been there when you were born and I was not, but I've learned from my mistakes. I won't allow another oracle to come to harm on my watch. If you can't do what's necessary, then stand aside.” Bakari said. “And if you ever dare to call me weak again, be prepared to challenge me.” He turned and left them.
“Take care of it Bron, if you ever want the trust of this tribe, you'll remove the Ajo’s power,” Saleem threw over his shoulder as he walked away. He changed into his lion form and loped off in the opposite direction, taking the remainder of the tension with him.
“Bron, I'm sorry.” Fynn touched his forehead to Bron's.
“They'll always blame me for it, Fynn.” Adrenaline left him in a rush, and Bron found it hard to move. “I'm the one who lived, so I'll always carry the blame for the others dying.”
“I don't blame you for my mother’s death, Bron. I lay the blame at the feet of the Ajo who attacked our temple.” Fynn tapped his head gently against Bron's.
Bron gripped Fynn's shoulders, regret and weariness weighing down his own. “And here I am giving another Ajo access to the oracle.” Guilt was a living breathing entity, clogging his throat. “I'll do what needs to be done, Fynn. I won't allow harm to come to your mate.” Bron broke contact and turned his back to his friend. “I need to be alone for a while, cub, if you don’t mind.”
There was no sound to indicate Fynn leaving, but loneliness pressed in on him from all sides. Bron dropped to the dense forest floor and prayed for guidance. He waited five hundred years for the gift of Dalia, could he risk losing her?
Chapter 18
LEANING HER HEAD FORWARD, Dalia allowed the hot water to wash through her hair. Steam billowed around her, giving her the sensation of walking through clouds. She choked back a scream as the shower curtain was jerked open.
“Do you have a death wish?” she snapped, trying to regain her composure.
Bron's eyes were dark, heated as they traveled along her body. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Her skin flushed under his gaze, frustrating her. Every time she was near him, her body betrayed her. She glared at him and shut off the water. She stepped out of the tub and around him, snatching a towel from the rack. Wrapping the towel around her body, she ignored him, leaving him in the muggy bathroom.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she went through her morning routine, heavy-duty stress on the morning part. She looked at the clock and clucked her teeth at the time. It was four thirty in the morning. He'd been gone the entire evening without a word and to say she was pissed was a master understatement. She rubbed the jasmine oil over her body meticulously, using the routine to block him out. The act was made more erotic by the mere fact that he watched her. His gaze caressed her, burning her skin everywhere he looked. Her skin was sensitive, the feel of her own hands heightening her arousal.
Bron moved to sit behind her, and a sigh escaped before she could stop it. The fabric of his jeans scratched her skin as he settled his legs on either side of her body. He took the oil from her hands, poured it into his palms and started slowly massaging the oil into her back. Her head lolled forward luxuriating in his warm hands.
“You know, even though you rub this on your skin, you still carry my scent." The deep timbre of his voice rolled down her spine. His sexy accent brought images of hot African nights beneath a cloudless sky.
His hands moved to her stomach, their circular rhythm relaxing her even as his touch sent fire through her blood. “The smell is inside of you, marking you as mine.” He cupped her breasts. "Solamente mío, only mine."
Dalia closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m mad at you.”
Bron’s teeth gently scraped across the back of her neck, he pulled her skin between his teeth, biting down. She hissed as raw need slammed into her.
"Are you, rewá?” His tongue lapped at her skin soothing the bite. His hands drifted down between her legs, where moisture gathered.
Damn her body for calling her a liar.
“You don’t feel mad.” He slid a single finger into her heat.
She tightened around him and he moaned. He turned her head, kissing her before she could object. His lips aggressive, they held a hint of something dark, possessive.
“Despite my traitorous body, you are in big trouble.” It was a weak promise. They both knew it. Denying him was futile. Her body yearned for his touch.
Bron lifted her easily, turning her to straddle him.
Dalia gasped as she felt him at her center. She didn’t bother wondering what happened to his pants. That magic of his sure had its uses.
“I’m sorry, mi ôkàn. How can I make it up to you?” He entered her with a slow stroke. His dark eyes traced her face, emotion clouding their depths. Her heart pitched at the vulnerability, even as her sex contracted in need.
She kissed him instead of answering, not that she could have answered. His hips lifted slowly, driving out any coherent thoughts she had.
Oh he was good.
Her earlier anger slowly became a distant memory as he scraped his nails down her back.
“Ride me, rewá,” he ordered, his hands gripping her hips.
Dalia tightened her muscles around his shaft, locking their bodies. “You've been gone all night, and you wanna come in here and tell me what to do?” She nipped at his neck in punishment. Hunger rose at the salty taste of his skin.
He breathed out roughly, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, throwing his head back when she contracted her muscles again. “It won’t happen again.” He pulled her head down for a kiss. His tongue drove into her mouth, mimicking what he wanted.
Dalia rocked her hips slow, tortuously slow. She would control their lovemaking. He would learn that she could not be swayed with a kiss and an 'I'm sorry'.
Next time.
Yeah, next time she would teach him, she promised herself. Her eyes closed as sensation swamped her. R
ight now she couldn't think past the fingers trailing the inside of her thigh. Hunger and heat swirled around her, she leaned closer, her teeth first nicking his skin. Once his taste hit her lips she was lost. Feeding from him let her into his mind. His love, fear for her, and guilt fought for turns. His guilt pushed the last of her anger away.
He purred, the sound vibrating along her chest.
Closing the bite at his neck, she flexed once more for good measure. “Make sure that it doesn’t.” Her hips picked up speed. She kissed him again and rode him, moaning as his hips lifted to meet her.
His hands tangled in her wet hair, tugging her head back. He kissed a trail down the front of her throat. His wet mouth latched on to her breast and she lost it. The orgasm came without warning, stealing her breath. His hips lifted, picking up speed, deep thrusts that pushed her orgasm higher, burning behind her clenched eyes. She barely heard his shout as he followed her over the edge. Pleasure dragged her under, robbing her of both thought and sight. Her body shook, her womb clenched and Dalia swore she would black out. She held on to him, their breath mingling as they both gasped for air. He rested his head on her chest and they sat that way waiting on their heartbeats to slow.
“What’s wrong, Bron?” Her hands stroked his back in lazy motions.
“This night has been a long one.” Exhaustion, bone deep, was in his tone and the slump of his shoulders.
Dalia ran her hands over his head, hoping to soothe him. “It'll be dawn soon. Let’s sleep and we can sort it all out when we wake.” She separated their bodies and went back into the bathroom to clean up.
“I love you.” Bron came in behind her. Her eyes caught his in the mirror and her stomach dropped. There was torment in his gaze.
“I love you too.” She gently probed his thoughts but they were closed to her.
His face went blank, hiding his feelings. She had a fair idea, but she didn't want to push. “Let’s rest, papi. We can talk it out when we wake.”
She led him to her bed and cradled his head as they lay in silence. The sound of the shutters closing down on her windows signaled the time. The shutters were programmed to close every morning at five. She held Bron and finally relaxed when she felt his even breathing, signaling he was asleep. For once the dawn did not pull her under, instead emotional exhaustion dragged her down. Dalia succumbed to sleep minutes after Bron.
A PULLING SENSATION jolted her awake. She looked around and felt a tingle of awareness at her surroundings. The temple was beautiful. The marble floors gleamed, as a procession of hooded figures moved silently, though Dalia thought she could feel the weight of their thoughts. A woman stood at a golden podium, her head down, writing. Dalia thought of the temple Bron described and guilt assaulted her. She'd stolen from here.
“There is no need for guilt, Dalia,” a voice said behind her.
She turned and her eyes widened in awe. The woman was fierce, beautiful, her dark brown skin glowing and smooth. Her hazel eyes tilted at the corners giving her an exotic look. Her full lips turned up in a smile of understanding and the tension left her body.
The woman's burgundy robes flowed around her, moving in an unseen wind. She held her hand out to Dalia, and Dalia grabbed it before she could stop herself. She was tugged into an embrace that settled her soul and brought tears to her eyes. The wind blew gently through her hair still wet from her shower, and the scent of an approaching stormed lingered around this woman.
“You're Oya,” Dalia stated, rather than asking.
The goddess nodded, her eyes assessing her. "It’s time for you to claim your place, Dalia.”
“I don’t understand. Bron told me I stole from you, what could you possibly want with me?”
“You stole nothing, Dalia,” Oya assured her. “If anything I took advantage of your situation.” At Dalia’s look of confusion she laughed. “My warriors were struggling. They were losing themselves under the weight of their punishment. I had to do something. They'd served me well and I wanted to end their punishment.”
“What has that got to do with me?” She was their enemy.
“Well, your death was opportune. The oracle and healer had just been born, never before had the two been born in the same lifetime, fate had finally given me the chance I needed. You were another gift. You were being converted into a vampire, crossing the veil minutes after your great aunt Rosa died. Fate indeed had been kind. Finally I could have the members of the basíkùlú together in the same lifetime. Instead of allowing you to take the red stone you were sent for, I gave you a blue one. Here, remember.” Oya laid a single finger to Dalia's forehead.
Dalia’s hands shook as the memories assaulted her, filling in the blanks. “So I didn't steal anything.” Relief flooded her and left her giddy. She knew Bron worried about the Ajo powers and now she could reassure him. “Does that mean my powers are not corrupt?”
“The powers that I've given you are pure.” Oya confirmed.
“Why?” She winced, that came out rougher than she'd intended. She cleared her throat and made her tone a little more respectful. “Why choose me?”
“The gift of the álà-írín has always been in your family. Since you'd already crossed the veil, it will be easier for you to handle the gift. Besides, I would have had to wait a decade or two for the next female child in your family to be born. I wanted the cycle completed.”
“My mother explained what the álà-írín does, but what would I be used for?” How could she help?
A bench appeared next to Oya and she motioned for Dalia to join her. They sat and watched the procession of souls. Dalia saw a figure moving through the crowds and a feeling of dread went through her. When the person, stopped next to the golden podium and reached for a red stone, she closed her eyes.
“It’s still happening?”
Oya nodded sadly. “Long ago, someone gave away my secrets allowing others to enter my temple and steal power not belonging to them. The world is still paying for that act. The basíkùlú is used to purify the corrupt magic, taking it out of the equation. Isabelle has already explained the rules to you, yes?”
“She did.” Dalia shivered.
“Well, in order to explain your part I'll need to explain the cycle to you. I gifted the Aje tribe with magic originally to protect my temple. They were true worshippers, and the temple they built was imbued with so many prayers, it itself had become magic. The items the shamans made, writings and spells were all stored there. I assigned their best warriors to guard from outside tribes. They lived in peace for many years, and in a way grew arrogant under the ease of their duty."
"It came a time when the villagers started to notice that the temple warriors were not aging, they began to grow jealous. They coveted the powers I'd given the temple guards and started using any means necessary to gain it. They started to turn to black magic, anything to give them more power. It corrupted their magic, so much so that when they died and passed through my temple, I was unable to do anything with it. I refused to allow it to pass down through the family.” Oya sighed with regret.
“I was at a loss for a while with how to deal with it. I created the oracle to communicate with me and to hopefully get through to the tribe and explain what they were doing to their magic. When that didn’t work, the oracle and the village healer, found a way to purify that magic, they needed a way to get it back here to me, so the magic could once again be placed in the family’s line. The first álà-írín was a young woman, who only wanted to serve her village. Her father was the village shaman, so she was well trained and already had the ability to cross the veil. I only had to give her the power to handle the stones and cross the veil with them. It was then we discovered that an anchor was needed. We lost three women before it was perfected.”
Oh God. “That’s scary.”
“We found a way.”
“When did the thefts start?”
“I discovered the magic being stolen, well after the thefts had started. I only noticed because as a goddess I'm able
to see whatever is happening on earth and in your realm. One day that stopped, there were holes around the tribe, things I was unable to see. It disturbed me. I sat here on this bench and watched the procession of souls trying to figure out what was going on. It was then I saw the actual thief. Anger overwhelmed me, I marked him just before he crossed back over. I immediately went to the oracle and gave her the task of finding him. We discovered then that vampires were responsible. I gave the village hunters the power of the lion and had the temple warriors train them. They became responsible for hunting the Ajo.”
“Why are they called Ajo?”
“It means witchcraft or magic in their language.”
Dalia nodded in understanding. “So the warriors can change into lions also?”
“Yes, you understand how hard it is to kill, Dalia. The lion allows them to separate themselves from the task. The strength and power the lion possesses gave them the skills necessary to hunt the Ajo.”
Dalia understood and wished she had such a buffer. Killing others took pieces of her soul, even when their death saved the lives of others.
“How did the village feel about you using their hunters?” Dalia asked
Oya made a sound of disgust. “Greedy children, the whole lot of them. Someone spread the rumor of the Ajo and before we knew it, the villagers were being converted left and right. The final betrayal came when someone sold out the secrets of the temple. The temple was attacked and ransacked, everyone save the healer and the child were killed. I was so angry.” Oya sighed.
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