A Destiny Revealed (10 page)

Bron shrugged his shoulders.  “My life has been
solitary for some time, so I've managed to learn a few things.” His expression
closed, blocking his feelings.

“I can imagine the things you've learned.” She bumped his
shoulder to tease him out of his sudden solemn mood. She laughed, a surprise
burst of sound, when he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I can show you anytime, rewà.” His voice deepened.

Her stomach clenched, yeah, she was sure there were things
he could show her.  Power that flowed from him she imagined came from
years of experience. Clearing her throat, she thought of the kisses they
shared.

Yeah, years.

“How old are you?” she blurted.

Bron smiled and it caused heat to pool low in her abdomen.
“It gets a little foggy after seven hundred or so years.”

Dalia’s jaw dropped in surprise. She quickly recovered,
though she couldn’t stop staring. “Well, you don’t look a day over thirty.”

 He looked up and caught her staring. He held her gaze,
and they shared a look that went past amusement, into something more intimate,
deeper. The waitress cleared her throat next to them, interrupting the moment.
She placed the tray laden with
pastelillos
and
bacalaitos
on the
bar and asked if they needed anything else before retreating. Dalia nursed her
Cuba Libre and watched as Bron ate.  He had almost perfect table manners
and Dalia found it endearing, one more surprising fact about him.

“What do you know about
bacalaitos
?” Dalia asked him
smirking.

Bron raised his eyebrows and smiled lifting one of the fritters
to take a bite. "Where do you think your roots came from, little girl,”
Bron joked.

She joined in his laughter. She watched him and marveled at
his appetite as he made short work of the food.

BRON HELD OUT HIS HAND to Dalia as he pushed aside his empty
tray. She stared at his hand, her dark eyes inscrutable. She seemed to come to
some conclusion before she grabbed his hand and smiled. Bron hastily laid a few
bills on the bar and led her from the bar. The night was balmy, with a hint of
rain in the air. He kept her hand in his as they strolled through the
crowds.  He slowed his steps as they reached the sand of the beach and
pulled her into his arms.

“I can feel the questions tugging at you.” He nipped at her
neck. “Ask me what you need to know, Dalia.” He kissed her neck softly and
waited.

She sighed and pushed him from her neck. “I can’t think when
you do that.” She plopped onto the sand.

Bron sat next to her using the bond they shared to probe her
mind. She stiffened for a moment, resisting his intrusion.

“How are you able to do that so easily?”

Bron stared at her a moment before turning his head. “I'd
imagine you're not ready to hear the answer to that. Suffice it to say you and
I share a bond that allows me to read you a little better than others. If you
would look, you'd find the same is true for you. I'm an open book to you,
Dalia.”

She scoffed at that, her eyes shuttered and Bron sensed a
new distance between them.

She looked out into the water. “I seriously doubt that. Why
were you searching for me?” She turned to face him.

Bron lazily traced a pattern in the beach sand, choosing his
words. Half-truths were not in his nature, but Dalia being Ajo complicated
matters. He could risk much telling her about his tribe. The tribe was now
scattered because one person dared to give away their secrets.

“I believe that's something the oracle will have to tell
you,” he answered.

“Who's the oracle?”

Bron sensed a small trace of fear in her tone he didn’t
understand. He looked at her but only saw the impatience in her eyes. “Zahra is
the oracle.” He winced at the look she gave him.

“Thank God. That explains everything.” Dalia stood. She
brushed the sand from her legs and sneered at him. “When you're done playing
games, call me.”

“Dalia, wait." He grabbed her hand to keep her from
leaving. “Sit, I’m sorry, this is awkward all the way around.” He tugged her
arm.

She sat reluctantly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Do
you think this is easy for me? You're stalking me through the streets of my home.
I ought to just stab you and get this over with.”

Bron choked off his laugh when he saw her face. “You
seriously would just stab me?”

“Please,” she clucked her teeth, “if we were in New York, I
would've just plucked you off at a hundred yards from some roof top. I don’t
play the victim for anyone, not anymore.”

There was no trace of deception in her tone. Respect for her
warred with the shock of hearing her talk so nonchalantly about killing him.
“I've done nothing to hurt you. Why would you kill me?”

“You're playing games. You and your girlfriend have been
playing with me for months and then you show up out of the blue. Add to that
the fact you tell me you and your brothers hunt down people like me. What would
you do?” Her eyes were glowing in their intensity.

“Zahra is not my girlfriend,” he told her quietly. Dalia
cursed next to him and Bron cringed at the venom in her tone.

“You’re single, got it. I'll make sure they put that on your
gravestone.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right to be angry. I would feel
threatened if I were in your position. But I'm not playing games with you.” He
sighed and ran his hand over his hair. “Look, you're connected to our tribe in
an important way, but the fact that you are Ajo makes everything…” Bron stood.
“I’m sorry Dalia. We've been enemy to the Ajo longer than you've been alive.
This situation I find us in confuses me as much as it does you.” He turned his
back to her, struggling with his feelings for her and his duty to the tribe.

“Is Zahra the woman who's been talking to me for the past
six months?”

Bron nodded, turning to face her. He kept his face blank,
wanting none of the torment he felt reflected.

She ran her hands through her hair, moving closer. “What can
you tell me? I can’t just trust you.” Her eyes flashed with impatience.

“The oracle wants to see you.”

Fear flashed momentarily into her eyes but was quickly
suppressed.

“She'll be able to answer the questions you have.” Bron
cocked his head to the side, tentatively testing the barrier she had over her mind.
Distrust colored her thoughts. Frustration with his answers and fear bounced
through her head. Guilt pierced him.

“I won’t go with you if I don’t trust you. What can you tell
me that'll help me to at least trust you?”

“I don't know, Dalia.” Bron answered honestly. “I can only
tell you that I would never allow anything to happen to you. You're important
to me and though I have my duty to the oracle, for you I would risk much.” He
closed the space between them.         

“I'm nothing to you,” she whispered.

He pulled her into his arms. “You have no idea what you are
to me.” He couldn't keep the need from his voice. Her eyes lifted to his and he
was seared at the need reflected, matching his own.

“I won't pressure you,
rewà
. We can spend time
together and you can decide if you trust me or not. Does that sound fair?” His
lips hovered inches from hers. At her nod, Bron’s head descended those small
inches between them and took her lips in a kiss that was tender and poignant.

Dalia lifted to her toes and wrapped her arms around his
neck. She couldn't deny the attraction between them. He wouldn't allow her to
deny it.

“Fine.”

“We should do something normal, then. Let’s enjoy the
festival.” He smiled to hide the guilt tearing into his gut. She said she
didn't trust him, but it was there in her eyes and in her body language as she
burrowed into his chest. He prayed he would not betray her trust.

She returned his smile and followed his lead. A pick-up
truck passed slowly in the street, speakers completely covering the back,
blasting Soca music. Bron grabbed her hips and they joined the crowd of people
following behind the troupe. They spent the rest of the evening playing the
tourist.

“I need to go, Bron.” It was nearing dawn.

He nodded and they walked the direction of her mother’s
house. He walked her to the door. “I had a good time.” He drew her into his
arms for a hug. Dalia squealed when he lifted her. “I want to see you tomorrow,
nothing between us, just a regular evening.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” She teased.

His lion jerked to attention, along with other parts of his
body. He leaned closer to her until only a breath separated their lips.

“Absolutely,” he whispered. The kiss was slow, methodical.
Each stroke of her tongue sent an answering tug through his body. His hands
swept her back and he cupped her bottom, pushing her into his erection. Dalia
moaned, opening her mouth wider to his invasion.

He growled at her taste. His beast circled his body in a
languid motion, sending power along his skin and making it sensitive. The
scrape of her nails on his arm traveled all the way down to his toes and he
shook with the need to bury himself within his mate. His power engulfed Dalia,
moving along her skin in a caress.

Dalia backed up hastily, her eyes wide. He should've been
relieved she broke contact, any longer and his magic would've bonded them
irrevocably. Instead of relief he felt bereft, and had to clamp down on the
roar at the back of his throat.  He watched as she traced her lips, her
eyes dazed and still dark with passion. Unable to resist, Bron kissed her
again. This time he pulled back when the bonding magic flared
again.  

“I'll see you tomorrow.” He trailed his finger down her
cheek. She nodded and Bron turned quickly to keep himself from backing her into
her room and finishing what they started. He didn’t look back as he crossed the
street and headed for his condo. He didn’t breathe easy until he was in his
room with the door close. Bron ran his hands across his face as he thought
about what he had almost done. He'd almost bonded with an enemy of their tribe.

Chapter 10

HE ENTERED THE TEMPLE, a sense of wrongness raising the
hair on the back of his neck. The only sounds were the footsteps of the midwife
as she rushed behind him. When he left, the oracle was in labor, her screams
echoing throughout the temple, following him as he raced to village to get the
midwife. This silence was a marked difference and panic thundered through his
heart. Racing across the temple he stopped at the threshold of the room, too
late to stop what had transpired. He dropped to his knees in grief. Blood
splatter littered the floor and wall, telling of the brutality that had
occurred while he was out. He sat there for long moments simple staring,
willing his eyes to close against the horror.

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?'