A Destiny Revealed (13 page)

Dalia bit her lip to keep herself from answering his call.
The compulsion to turn and soothe him, made her hands shake.

“This isn’t going to work, Bron.” She told him, her back
still to him. She turned and slammed right into his naked chest. A small shiver
of fear went through her; she didn’t hear him come up behind her. She cursed
this thing between them that caused her to let her guard down around him.

“You can’t just walk away from this, Dalia,” Bron growled at
her.

Damn him. Her temper sparked. “I don’t take kindly to people
telling me what I can or can’t do.” She poked his chest.

“What do you want from me, Dalia?” Bron asked her quietly,
staring down into her expressive eyes.

“I only want you to respect me, Bron. If you can’t tell me
what’s going on with you, then give me the respect of not lying to me about it.
We don’t know each other well, so I get that we'll be wary with each other, but
there has to be some level of trust between us.” She had her own issues, but
his lack of trust in her hurt.

Bron cupped her chin, kissing her lightly. He embraced her,
deepening the kiss. “Let’s sit. I will tell you about me and my tribe.” He
whispered, nuzzling her neck.

Dalia nodded. Bron sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Dalia
onto his lap. He lay his head on top of hers, inhaling her hair. A small purr
rumbled her back and she melted.

“Once upon a time…” Dalia prodded.

Bron chuckled nervously. “There is a goddess named Oya.
She's the goddess of Wind, of magic. She's responsible for helping souls pass
from this life to the next. Every person who possesses magic is said to belong
to her. There is a temple beyond the veil where she collects and stores the
earthly magic of these souls before they are allowed to pass to their place in
Orun, our afterlife. When they pass on, they meet in the passing room.”

“What happens there?” A memory flickered across her mind but
was gone before she could make sense of it.

“They stand before her record keeper, who stores the magic
in a stone and records the family it belongs to.”

“Why?” Images of blue stones flittered across her mind.

“It allows the magic to pass down to the next child born
into their family.” He answered.

“So the magic stays in the family?”

Bron nodded “Not every soul that passes through the temple
is pure. There are those who corrupt their magic while they're living, changing
it in a way that Oya is unable to touch. The record keeper stores that magic in
red stones and keeps it separate from the pure blue stones so that it would not
pass back through the family. It was a strong deterrent for the villagers.
There's no worse shame, than not being able to pass the family magic down.”

“Your tribe is big on family,” Dalia commented.

“Family is everything.”
Vehement.
Firm, leaving no doubt of his feeling about family.
“One day
Oya noticed the red stones were being stolen from her temple. Angered, she went
to the other gods to demand help. They refused, so she gathered the strongest
warriors of the
tribe,
gave us the gift of the lion
and created a woman, chosen to lead the village. The oracle’s purpose was to
guide us and keep us connected to Oya. I was a temple warrior along with my
brother and four other warriors. Our job was to protect the oracle and Oya’s
temple.” Bron swallowed heavily. “We lost the first oracle. My twin brother
Nuru, died trying to protect her. He was alone in the temple with her.”

“I’m so sorry Bron. What happened?” Dalia rubbed her arms.
She had goose bumps from his story. Muddled memories bombarded her, eerily
similar to the temple Bron described.

“A group of Ajo attacked the village.”

 Dalia shivered at his statement; it explained his
obvious distrust of her. The pain and bitterness in his voice made her wary,
and held the weight of a long-seated hatred for those like her.

“The Ijoye, our leader, took the temple guards down to the
village to help them. Nuru and I were left to guard the oracle, healer and the
álà-írín
.
The oracle was giving birth and she was having complications. The healer sent
me to the village for the
midwife,
she felt she
couldn't handle the birth on her own.” Bron eyes welled but not a single tear
fell.

Dalia wrapped her arms around him tightly. Tears clogged her
own throat, rendering her mute. His pain was tearing at her.

“When I returned from the village with the midwife, they
were dead.”

“Oh no,” Dalia whispered. She didn’t bother with empty platitudes;
she could feel the guilt he carried, and knew firsthand how hard it was to
release that kind of guilt.

“Oya’s wind whipped through the temple, her anger worse than
anything our legends prepared us for. She blamed us for leaving the oracle unprotected.
The villagers had the ability to defeat the Ajo that attacked them, but called
to the Ijoye instead. Oya punished them for it and took their powers. I spoke
up for the villagers. I thought taking their magic would leave them too
vulnerable; there was already war between the villages. Oya punished me for
both leaving my post and defending their cowardice.” Bron buried his face in
Dalia’s neck and took a deep breath. “When I tell you I haven’t had to interact
with people for years, I mean it literally. My sentence was confinement to our
temple in Africa. I've been there, alone for over five hundred years.”

Dalia’s eyes widened, that certainly explained his lack of
tact.

“Were it not for the task assigned to me by Zahra I would
still be there.” He finished quietly.

Dalia didn't have anything to say, it was unbelievable that
he was made to suffer for so long.

“What happens if I don’t go?” Dalia questioned.

Bron shrugged. “I will not think of that outcome.” A small
smile turned up his lips. “This is no simple task, Dalia. Failure is not an
option for me.”

“Who were the other women you spoke of, the healer and
álà-írín
?”
How many people would she face if she went with him?

His look chilled her, and she stood from his lap.

“The oracle is part of a trinity that allowed our tribe to
return Oya’s stolen magic.”

“So I would have to meet these women as well?” Her mind
churned.

Bron watched her intently. He wanted to know what she was
thinking but she had her mind blocked to him. He could feel her confusion and
fear, but the reason was hidden behind the wall.

“What do you guys want with me, Bron?” she asked. “From your
story there is no love lost between the Ajo and your tribe, why would the
oracle send you to purposely seek me out?” Her eyes were turbulent, tugging at
his heart.

“That’s something the oracle will have to answer, Dalia.”
Frustration and anger flickered across her face but there was nothing to be
done. It was the oracle’s job to explain everything to her. He couldn’t risk
her running if he told her the wrong thing.

“Can the oracle come to me?” she asked him, after a few
moments of silence.

He shook his head. “Besides the fact that her mate would not
allow it, the oracle is the most important person in our tribe. We can't risk
her safety.”

Her eyes narrowed, Bron held his hand up to stem any
argument.  “We have many enemies Dalia, don't take it personal.”

 She nodded briskly, but doubt still clouded her eyes.
He stood to dress.

“I don’t know if I'm ready to see your oracle,” Dalia told
him quietly.

He slid his pants on. He wouldn't push her. They were mated
now; he'd have time to convince her to come with him.

“I understand, Dalia. Until you're ready, we can enjoy
ourselves though, no?” He gave her a mischievous smile relieving the tension in
the room. “It will be dawn soon. I'll leave you to rest.” 

He kissed her, wanting nothing more than to stay through the
day with her. But he would leave and give her time to think. He had to convince
her to come in on her
own,
otherwise the others would
force his hand. He didn't want to lose the tentative trust they built.

Chapter 12

"DO YOU MAKE IT A HABIT OF SNEAKING OUT of doors early
in the a.m., warrior?" Isabelle’s strong, calm voice called from the back
door of her kitchen.

Bron froze in guilt. "I wasn't aware I was sneaking,
Doña." He kept his voice light, a smile curving his lips. He knew now
where Dalia got her directness. 

Isabelle smiled and lifted her hand to motion him into her home.
He followed her with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. She called him warrior
in an endearing tone. He'd only spoken to her briefly before, and only about
his need to speak with her daughter. He wondered how she knew what he
was. 

He settled into the small table where he'd eaten the first
time he visited. His stomach rumbled as the smell of baked bread assaulted his
senses. He groaned appreciatively as Isabelle set a fresh loaf in the middle of
the table. A small dish with butter was next, as well as a jar of strawberry
preserves.

"How are you able to bake bread?"

"Dalia and my son hired a woman to help me during the
day. We make the dough each week and I freeze it. I've lived in this house for
over sixty years, I know my way around the kitchen." Isabelle explained.

She stopped and stared in his direction. A light brush
feathered through his mind, probed his thoughts. His eyes widened in surprise,
but he still allowed her perusal through his thoughts.

Her face was solemn when she finished. "Why do you seek
my daughter, warrior?"

"You've seen my mind, Doña,” he said, "You know I
mean her no harm."  

"I also know that you keep me from seeing things you
don't want me to see." Her voice stern, echoed with power. "I know
that you're one of Oya’s warriors.”

Bron stopped eating and stared. Damn, she'd seen more than
he thought. He berated himself for not paying more attention to the power she
held. He was so busy chasing her daughter he had not given much thought to this
petite woman.

“And how would you know that?”

She muttered under her breath in Spanish about arrogant men,
and Bron couldn't help the smile that tilted his lips.

“There are those of us in Loíza who haven't forgotten from
where we came, warrior. I knew the moment the oracle was found. I felt the
connection to the tribe the very minute she embraced her powers. She's the
reason I allowed you into my home earlier.” She scolded him, her voice thick
with emotion.

Respect for this woman blossomed. Bron grabbed her hand.
“Then you know that the
basíkùlú
must be completed.” He watched her face
as she thought over his words, and saw the exact moment she understood.

 Her mouth parted in a gasp. "Dalia is part of the
cycle?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper, her hands shaking.

"She's the
álà-írín
." He stated simply.

Isabelle stood from her chair, turning her back to Bron. She
fixed him a cup of tea, using the routine to calm her nerves. "Dream
walker," she whispered to herself. "My family has always been able to
converse with those beyond the veil, but none have ever traveled…" her
voice caught and she cleared her throat
. "
It's
said to be dangerous." She busied herself around the kitchen keeping her
back to Bron’s.

He walked to the counter, gently placing his hands on her
shoulders. “It's said to be very dangerous, but only for those without an
anchor. Dalia has one.”

“Family is not a strong enough anchor,” she told him
adamantly.

Bron raised his eyebrows in question at how sure she
sounded.

“There are plenty of fools in this country who have tried,
trust me; family is not a strong enough anchor.” She gripped the edge of the
counter, her knuckles white.

“Her mate is a strong enough anchor, Doña Isabelle,” Bron
insisted. “I'll not allow her to lose herself beyond the veil.”

Isabelle’s unseeing eyes gleamed with gratitude as she
turned to face him. She touched his heart and once again her power moved
through his mind with light steps. He allowed her to feel the ties between him
and Dalia.

“You've bonded with her,” she whispered. “What does Dalia
say of this?”

Bron tensed, backing away from her. Isabelle muttered under
her breath again, this time curse words littered her speech about arrogant men.

“I understand Spanish you know,” Bron told her irritably. He
had yet to come to terms with the fact that he bonded with Dalia. He was not
ready to discuss it with anyone, especially her mother.

“That doesn't make you any less of an ass.” She snapped.
“You don’t think she’s going to find out?”

“I've barely come to the realization. I have to find a way to
tell her that won’t scare her off.” He said defensively.

She snorted.
“
Cobarde
.”

Bron
stiffened,
his beast awakening
from its slumber at her insult. He was not a coward.

“Your daughter is Ajo, Doña, she hardly trusts me as it is; she'll
think I'm using it to sway her.” And that he wouldn't risk. It would ruin their
relationship.

Isabelle sat down, pale and shaken.
“
Mentiroso!
”
She made a sign of the cross. "I have felt my daughter’s soul. She is
pure,
there is no trace of evil to mark her Ajo. You must be
mistaken."

“First a coward and now a liar, you don’t think much of me,
do you Doña?”

Disbelief deepened the frown lines on her face, distress
poured off her in waves. He felt bad for giving her the news.

“I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but you need to
understand what I'm facing. I can't claim my mate until this is resolved.”
Frustration burned away the rest of his content mood.