by Megan Hart
Astonishment washed over Annie. He chose her instead of his men, instead of his duty. “You are? Really?”
“Of course.”
Tallulah jumped up from the table. “Good choice, brother. I’ll make sure that bastard pays for what he’s done.”
She plucked a feather from her braid and held it out to Annie. “You showed great courage tonight. You insisted I run to get help, and you faced Na haksichi alone. And you had enough presence of mind to summon your animal guide and escape.”
Annie accepted the feather and nodded, too overcome with surprise and gratitude to speak. Tallulah nodded and marched out. One by one, each of the hunters stopped before Annie and gave her a feather, until the wooden tabletop was hidden beneath a pile of feathers in every dark earth and rainbow shade. When the last one had exited, she let the tears fall. This was the closest she’d ever come to feeling like part of a family. She hadn’t even known how much she’d craved this until the sense of belonging and acceptance built to a crescendo of emotion.
“Be right back.” Tombi withdrew and walked his guests to the door.
Annie dropped her head on the table, and feathers tickled her nose and cheeks. She heard a chorus of birds, each feather a note in a melody, as lovely as any she had ever heard. Sweet notes of love and home and family.
And she lost it. Totally lost all self-composure. She’d survived the ordeal with Hanan, but the acts of kindness were her undoing. If only Grandma Tia were here to see it, all would be perfect.
Strong arms enfolded her, encouraging her to stand.
“This has all been too much for you. Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”
She struggled to her feet, quelling the sniffling. Tombi smiled tenderly. He gently removed a blue feather stuck to her cheek with salty tear paste.
“Our tradition is to wear the feathers in our hair and not on our face.”
“I thought y’all should start something new.”
Annie shuffled to the back bedroom, leaning heavily on Tombi’s arm. The sight of the familiar four-poster bed with wool patterned blankets folded at the ends and the handmade, sturdy furniture felt like an oasis in a storm.
“It feels like I’ve been away for weeks,” she said with a sigh.
“It does. I’ve missed you.”
The admission glowed her heart and numbed the pain in her wrists and ankles and face. It wasn’t I love you, but she’d take it. In a heartbeat. Annie put her arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically.
“Ouch,” she gasped as her cut bottom lip protested the deep kiss.
“Passion can wait.” Tombi quickly guided her to the bathroom. “I’ve already drawn the water for you.”
The scent of chamomile and sweet orange emanated from the Jacuzzi tub. “You even added my favorite essential oils,” she marveled.
Tombi flashed a rare grin. “I pay attention,” he boasted. “Now take off your clothes.”
Annie mock saluted. “Yes, sir.” She slipped out of the dirty, sweaty T-shirt and jeans, bra and panties. Hanan had touched her through these clothes. The whole lot should be burned. If she ever wore them again, she’d remember him.
Quickly she slipped into the warm, scented bath, ready to wash away the unsettling memory of Hanan’s promise of more to come later. Impulsively, Annie dunked her whole body, face included, and let the water completely submerge her—a self-baptismal ritual to symbolically wash away all thoughts of Na haksichi. The raw skin on her wrists and ankles stung like a bitch, but they needed cleaning to prevent infection.
Tombi’s face was above her own, its harsh, dear form and features rippled and blurred through the transparent liquid wall between them. His frown meant he was concerned. Annie immediately sat up, pushing through the water. She clasped her wet hands on his forearms and tugged. “Join me.”
Tombi peeled off his shirt, and Annie smiled at his haste. No way was passion waiting until the morning. The sound and sight of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans wiped the smile from her face. This was what she needed. Him.
His erection popped loose from his briefs, and she swallowed hard. She squirted some body wash in her right palm, and when he sank into the tub opposite her, she massaged the wash onto his broad chest. White scars crisscrossed his golden flesh, and she lightly ran her fingers over them. “How did you get these?”
“Ishkitini. Horned owls known as shadow birds. They will sometimes attack if we slip past the wisps and get too close to Nalusa.”
She shuddered to think of Tombi being sliced by the birds of prey. And she pictured her hawk carving Hanan’s forehead and attaching his long talons into Hanan’s scalp. “My hawk attacked Hanan today. Do you think my spirit guide might have once been on the dark side?”
“No. Once you’ve crossed, you can never go back. Any being, human or animal, is forever tainted.” Tombi grasped her shoulders with his calloused hands and lowered his head to her level. “Now that we’re alone, tell me...what did Hanan do? The swelling on your face and lips is proof he struck you at least once.” He reached in the soapy water and raised her right hand. “And he cruelly bound you too tight. That was overkill.”
“He only struck me once. Let’s leave it at that.”
Tombi placed his palm over her left breast. “You are bruised here, as well.”
Annie hung her head. “Please. I don’t want to talk about it.”
He tried to gently lift her chin, but Annie jerked her head to the side.
“It will do you good to open up. We only have to talk about it this once, if you’d like.” He paused a heartbeat. “Did he force himself on you?”
She shook her head, still refusing to meet his direct gaze. “It didn’t get that far.”
Tombi remained silent, and she rushed to fill the void. “Once I was tied to the tree, he kissed me and...and then shoved himself against me and...pinched my breasts.”
“You must have been so scared.” Tombi wrapped her in his arms. “I’ll never let him hurt you again,” he said with fierce tenderness.
“I know,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “Just hold me a minute, okay?”
“Always.”
The steady drum of his heartbeat vibrated in every cell of her body, pulsing a message of love. He might not realize it, but he did love her. She knew it as certain as she knew she was the granddaughter of the most revered hoodoo practitioner in Alabama.
She soaked in every sensation, Tombi’s heartbeat, the warm water a liquid caress against her bare skin, the sweet scent he’d so thoughtfully provided. Annie used her newly found abilities to block out the rest of the world—the distant noise of cars, the humming of electrical appliances, the birds beginning to awaken and stir, welcoming in the morning. By focusing on the here and now, the intimacy was more profound.
For the first time, she was thankful for her special gift of hearing. This moment obliterated the childhood pain of being an outcast. She’d been born and fashioned for this man, just as he had been destined for her.
He had to feel it, too. The stubborn man. Even if this were their last night together, her heart and soul had irrevocably linked to his.
“Annie, are you ready for bed?”
She opened her eyes and blinked. “Huh? Did I fall asleep?”
“Just for a moment. Let me wash your hair and then tuck you into bed.”
She didn’t feel like bothering, but it seemed to please him to take care of her. “If you want.”
He climbed out of the tub and pulled the plug, turned on the faucet. “Stick your head under.”
A splat of shampoo landed on the top of her scalp and expert fingers massaged it in, kneading her temples and working back down to the tight muscles at the base of her neck. Heaven. And to think she had wanted to pass this up. Tombi could wash her hair a
ll day if he pleased. Satisfied, he rinsed away the suds and then wrapped her head in a warm towel.
“That was amazing,” she said with a tired smile. “Thank you.”
His face darkened. “It’s the least I can do after failing to protect you.”
He helped her out of the tub and rubbed a thick towel over her body to dry her off, taking care to avoid the abraded skin.
“Don’t do that to yourself. Guilt is a terrible thing. It can destroy your spirit.”
“Easy for you to say,” Tombi grunted. “You’re an angel.”
Annie laughed until she caught his eye. He wasn’t smiling; he’d meant it. She flushed, thinking of all the times she’d been angry with her grandma for not instantly curing her of her hearing gift. “Not true. I can be quite selfish. You’re the one who’s always sacrificed everything for your family and friends.”
Tombi ruffled through a vanity drawer and produced a white tube. “Antibiotic cream,” he explained.
“That’s not necessary—”
“Lie on the bed, and let me dress your wounds.”
He was in full master-doctor mode, so she followed him to the bedroom and obediently lay down. Tombi sat beside her, squirted a dollop on his fingers and, with incredible gentleness, took one wrist and applied the cream.
It still hurt like hell. Annie pursed her lips, determined not to make a sound. No reason to make him feel guiltier than he did. With gentle precision, Tombi applied the cream to all the raw flesh.
“Anything else I can do for you?”
She flashed a wicked grin. “Really? Do you need to ask? You’re beside me in bed—naked. I can think of some naughty things you can do for me.”
Tombi’s eyes darkened, and he slowly leaned over and kissed along the side of her neck. She turned her head slightly, allowing him access to the sweet spot. He kissed the nape of her neck that always sent bursts of pleasure along her spine.
Right there. His warm breath tingled her nerve endings, just like he knew she liked it. Annie moaned.
Tombi pulled away. “Am I hurting you?”
“Quite the opposite,” she assured.
He lowered his head and kissed the hollow of her throat. The man knew her weaknesses, had explored every inch of her body with intensity and curiosity. And she’d enjoyed every second of it, as much as she had loved learning every contour of his muscled frame, where scars crisscrossed his chest and shoulders, his long fingers and toes, his smooth flesh and solid jaw and cheekbones. Every detail thrilled her, made him more desirable each time they made love.
She pressed her hips against his erection, and his breath grew stuttered and harsh. She took delight in knowing she pleased him as much as he pleased her. It was as if there was no space between their bodies, no barrier between their souls, as they explored one another.
Tombi placed his mouth over one of her nipples, his tongue lathing the sensitive bud. His hand felt her core, and he inserted a finger. Annie bucked against it, her muscles contracting. The roaring in her head was like that of an incoming train—a powerful force bearing down and that couldn’t be stopped.
She fondled his erection, and Tombi groaned. He entered her, and she squeezed her thighs and core, desperate for release from the building crescendo.
It came, crashing like the Gulf tide at high waters. He plunged in and out, advancing and retreating, dominating and surrendering, until together they climaxed. She held on to his muscled back, an anchor in the passionate maelstrom. Her breath gradually slowed down, and her heart returned to a normal rate.
Tombi rolled beside her, a soft music of flute and drumming played like a lullaby. She was so tired...slumber beckoned. Before she surrendered to it, an unexpected quiet filled her mind and body.
A perfect silence blanketed her world for the first time—blissful, peaceful silence. And all because of Tombi. Annie sighed and snuggled under the crook of his arm, knowing she was safe and loved—even if he didn’t know his own heart yet.
CHAPTER 18
Tonight was The Night. Two weeks had passed since Hanan had tied her to the tree, and her wounds had scabbed over.
Morning rose with twin orbs gracing the sky—the bright sun to the east and the pale slip of the full moon visible and awaiting its hour to usurp the heavens.
Annie had glanced fretfully at the moon for hours, knowing that with each minute that passed, she was either a step closer to a future with Tombi or a step closer to losing him forever. Various hunters had come and gone throughout the day, conferring with Tombi on tonight’s battle strategy.
Annie shyly moved among them, her hair adorned with two skinny plaits at the front, the hunters’ gifted feathers braided in the strands. She gleaned from snatched conversations that in the prebattle ritual, she was to summon her hawk for the heirloom flute to defeat Nalusa.
Talk about pressure. If only Grandma Tia were here, but she’d be in rehab a few more days.
She fully understood what Tombi had dealt with for years; the weight of responsibility pressed down, smothering her lungs until her breath grew shallow and her stomach leaden. What if the hawk had been injured or killed? The hunters had found no trace of Hanan, no clue as to who had been the victor in that skirmish.
The murmur of voices grew louder in the cabin’s den as the whisper of twilight approached. A furtive glance behind, and Annie snuck out the back door, certain no one saw her. The heat had cooled from near one hundred degrees to the low nineties. Tolerable. Nothing like the cool night air of the North Georgia Mountains, but she’d been a summer visitor to the bayou ever since she was a baby and had acclimated to the heat and humidity, as much as humanly possible.
Not to say she enjoyed it. Annie grabbed the front of her T-shirt and fanned the cotton cloth back and forth in a futile effort to dry the perspiration gathered in her cleavage. Quickly, she scurried down the back porch steps, eager to reach the patch of trees that would shelter her from human eyes. There she could beckon her hawk without the prying...
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Caught again. Annie’s shoulders sagged, and her head lowered. Slowly, she turned around to face Tombi. “Just getting a little air,” she called nonchalantly over her shoulder.
“Nice try.”
Annie sighed and faced him. “I thought you were absorbed in business.”
“I’m never so busy that I don’t notice where you are.”
“So I see.”
“Why do you keep sneaking off? You’re welcome to join us. I just didn’t think you’d be interested.”
Might as well tell him the truth. Annie kicked the toe of her sneakers in the red clay dirt. “We’ve tried every day to summon my hawk together, and it hasn’t worked. Let me try to do it alone without everyone watching. It might work this way.” She sighed heavily. “I feel like such a failure when my summons don’t work.”
“No one will consider it a failure if the hawk doesn’t ever show. You can’t control an animal guide. He’ll show or not, depending on its own will. We all know that.” Tombi walked to her and held out his hand. “Come back inside where it’s safe. I don’t want the distraction of worrying about you on top of everything else.”
Annie folded her arms under her chest. “Y’all don’t stand much of a chance without the flute. Everything depends on my hawk. And me.”
Tombi dropped his outreached hand. “This wasn’t your battle to start with.”
“Well, it is now.”
“No. It’s too dangerous.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t lie. That flute could be crucial, but not at the risk of putting you in more danger.”
“I’m already in danger,” she pointed out. “I overheard you telling the others that I’ll be included in the ritual dance and that we’ll try to contact the hawk as a group. But I need to do this
on my own.”
“No. We do it before the battle, and then you’ll stay here in the cabin with one of my hunters on guard.”
Anger scraped the back of her throat. “And when were you going to tell me this? Right before the ceremony? It’s already dark, almost time for the gathering.”
“The less time for you to argue,” he said with a rueful grin. “C’mon. Remember how much you hate snakes?”
She glared at his pitiful attempt at humor. “I’m going with you tonight.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You can’t stop me. I’m going to contact my hawk now, and I’ll be with you and the others this evening.” Annie spun away.
She made it all of three steps before Tombi caught up to her and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “How about a compromise?” he suggested.
She raised an eyebrow.
“I come with you now and stay by your side while you connect with your hawk. In turn, you’ll agree to stay at the cabin this evening.”
One step at a time. Get the flute and then renegotiate. “Okay. But stay at least a few feet away from me when I petition my guide. He’ll be more likely to show up.”
Annie had no idea if that were true, but Tombi’s proximity made it impossible to concentrate on anything but the music of his heart.
He nodded and dipped forward in a mock bow. “I’m following you. Lead on.”
Annie smiled to herself. Victory was won a battle at a time. She strolled to the path to the woods, Tombi close on her heels.
The temperature mercifully dipped several degrees under the canopy of trees. Annie located a fallen log and sat on the makeshift bench. Tombi backed off a few feet and stood, watching.
“Don’t stare. You’re making me nervous,” Annie complained.
Tombi gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll be over here.” He gestured at a tree a few feet behind him. “No farther.”
“Fine.”
Annie deliberately turned her back on Tombi and drew three deep, calming breaths. She let down the shields Tombi had taught her to erect and fully opened her senses. Wind whistled in the treetops, twigs crunched with the scurrying of small animals, the swell of an ocean wave breaking from far, far away, the hum of insects, Tombi’s heartbeat. Annie drew the cinnamon stick sprinkled with frankincense essential oil from her mojo bag and inhaled. She held it between her palms as she pressed them together into the prayer position.