A Destiny Revealed (19 page)

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. Right 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."