A Destiny Revealed (3 page)

 “There are way too many people in this plaza,” he
mumbled to himself, dodging a reveler wearing one of the large colorful
máscaras
.
Bron
sighed,
the mask reminded him of his home in
Africa, sans the crowd. A hairy hand tapped the top of his head and Bron passed
another piece of fruit to his companion.

 “I am not complaining, Little Lord Fauntleroy. I'm
only saying there are a lot of people in this square.” 

The monkey's brown tail touched Bron’s face briefly in
agreement. Children stared as he moved through the crowds, his capuchin monkey
sitting complacently on his broad shoulders. Little Lord Fauntleroy’s dark
brown fur, looked nearly black in the night, his cream-colored shoulders and
little pink face fascinated the kids as they reached to pet him. Though Bron
walked quickly through the crowd, he stopped every now and again to allow them
a small touch. It had been years since Little Lord had the attention and Bron
sensed his pet was enjoying himself.

 Eyes watchful, he scanned the crowd careful not to
focus on any one person. His senses were already on overload from the sheer
number of people dancing in the streets, he didn’t want the added burden of
their feelings. He was there for a purpose and until he completed it, he would
simply tune out the mental onslaught. That was not to say he missed the furtive
glances the women in the crowd gave him, he just didn't have time to do
anything about them. Bron thought longingly of the last time he had been with a
woman, but gave up that train of thought with a wistful sigh. If he had learned
anything during his punishment, it was restraint.

 '
Have you found her?
' Bron recognized the touch
of their oracle in his mind and he smiled. Zahra became the oracle last year
and Bron was glad they found her. She would reunite the lost Aje tribe and end
the centuries of punishment he and his brothers had endured. She sent him to
Puerto Rico to chase down her latest lead, and to say she was anxious was an
understatement.

 
'I have not, Zahra, are you going to ask me every
twenty minutes?'
He teased her.

 '
I'm impatient, my bad. I'll let you get back to
it.
'  She told him sheepishly. '
You know you could have left Little
Lord here. I would have taken care of him.'

Bron shrugged his shoulders forgetting Zahra couldn’t see
the movement.  '
We're fine. I thank you for the offer though. Now let
me get back to my task'.

He spotted a break in the crowd and rushed to claim a spot
next to a cart selling beaded necklaces.

 '
Have you found the girl?
' The voice was gruff,
the Ijoye’s impatience clearly coming through the link they shared.

 '
Ijoye, you and Zahra are probably staring at each
other across from the dinner table.
' Bron sighed heavily. They lived in the
same house, and yet he usually relayed information to them one at a time, it
was telling of their tumultuous relationship. The woman he was sent to find was
important and he could understand their impatience, but the constant
interruptions made it hard to concentrate.

 '
She is in the other room. Fine, we will strive for
more patience.'

 '
Thank you, that way I won’t have to repeat
everything twice.'
A glimpse of a familiar tattoo in the crowd caught his
attention and Bron tensed. He cut his link with the Ijoye.

 “Hold on tight, Little Lord.” His expression was
fierce. Most of the crowd parted as he pushed his way through them. He was
single-minded in his pursuit; blocking out everything but the familiar tattoo
he glimpsed...

There.

He spied the person moving between a restaurant and small
house. He frowned. The tattoos covered a very feminine shoulder. There were
female Ajo, the tribe's natural
enemy,
he just was not
prepared to engage one in battle while hundreds of people stood around. People
tended to intervene when a woman was being attacked. Humans had no way of
knowing the vampire like creatures were dangerous regardless of their sex.

Bron sped up, catching up with her behind the restaurant.
She turned around and he stared at the beautiful, familiar face.

 Well, Hell.

“Dalia?” he whispered, shocked. She was the woman he was
sent for, his chance for redemption with the tribe. His mind reeled. To bring
an Ajo into the tribe would put him far from the atonement he sought.

It would cause a riot.

Yet, on his mind was not how she would affect the tribe, but
the way her sultry eyes held him captivated. The picture he had of her in his
mind did nothing to convey the energy that positively crackled around her. He
stood stunned by her beauty, missing the booted foot that kicked out and caught
him in the stomach.

Little Lord screeched and scrambled from his shoulder as
Bron doubled over, more from surprise than pain.

“Stay here,” he ordered his pet and once again gave chase.
She was quick, dodging through the crowd and down back streets. She was
definitely a native. Bron lost sight of her as she darted in front of traffic
and disappeared behind a cantina.  He returned to the restaurant
aggravated. He dreaded telling the oracle he lost her. He held out his hand for
Little Lord and made his way back to the beachfront condo he rented for his stay.

“This stays between us amigo.” No need for everyone to know
a female got the drop on him. As it was the monkey's chattering felt mocking
and he didn’t like it one bit. The beast in him paced his subconscious and
fought to be released. Bron kept a tight lid on it. He had no intentions of
losing control.

The woman he sought was Ajo. That changed the entire
situation. The Ajo were created with power stolen from his tribe and their
goddess, how could she be the chosen one? The Ijoye would have to be told.

He narrowed his eyes and thought of Dalia. Her brown eyes
were the color of whiskey, framed by dark lashes. Her oval face was flawless
and smooth, unadorned by make-up save her full lips, which were glossy and
pink.  Her thick dark brown hair flowed down her back in a riot of curls.
Bron clenched his hands to stifle the need to feel the texture of her hair. He
was intrigued and damned, all by one woman.

DALIA TELEPORTED from the Plaza to the edge of the
festivities and walked quickly through the thinning crowd. Her eyes darted to
make sure she was unseen. Her steps slowed as she approached Loíza Aldea, one
of the oldest neighborhoods in Loiza. She moved between the houses quickly,
taking shortcuts she used her whole life.

Dalia kept to the shadows between Doña Pancha and Don
Frank’s house, careful not to wake them. The last thing she needed was the
neighborhood busy body running to her mom with tales. She may be pushing sixty
years on this earth but she still had a healthy dose of fear and respect for the
two pillars of the community.

She pushed her hair back from her face and thought of the
man that chased her. His voice had been haunting her for the past six months
and she couldn’t believe he was here. A shiver ran through her body despite the
summer heat. His appearance blew away the mental picture she'd constructed of
him. His voice was a wet dream and finally having a face to match that voice
would fuel Dalia’s daydreams for weeks to come. Smooth, dark brown skin, tall,
muscular frame; his eyes were nearly black, lit with an intensity that seared
Dalia. She only got a quick glance at the rest of him but the way his jeans fit
assured her that the rest of the package would be equally enticing. She walked
to her mother’s house on the edge of the Barrio and entered the small hut
without knocking.

She and her brother had both offered to move their mother
into a better part of Puerto Rico, but this was where her mom and dad raised
their children, where her mom buried her father, so Isabelle would not leave.

“Dalia,
hija
, is everything okay?” Her mother didn't
bother to get up from bed. She was used to her daughter's odd hours.

“
Estoy bien
, mama,” I’m fine, she told her mother.
“Go back to sleep.” She stood silent and listened until her mother’s breathing evened.
Satisfied she moved through the back door to the room she had built in her
mother’s back yard. The outer appearance was the same as the other huts
scattered throughout the neighborhood. No one would guess the walls were
reinforced and the room rigged with NASA quality security.

 The inside of her room was sparse, only a bed in the
corner and a small table with two chairs on the other end. The bathroom tucked
into the back of the room was standing room only, housing a narrow shower and
separated from the rest of the place by a thin white sheet. No one entered this
room so she didn't worry too much about its size or privacy. The indoor ac unit
hummed quietly as the door sealed behind her.

She sat in one of the chairs and thought of the man she met
tonight. He knew her by name and that did not sit well with Dalia. Her cheeks
heated as she thought of how her name sounded rolling from his lips. She shook
herself to banish thoughts of him from her mind. It was hard enough getting his
voice out of her head, seeing him in person would be no easy image to forget.
Who sent him and how did he find her?

Dalia stood intending to hit the shower, even though it was
early morning, the heat and moisture in the air plastered her tank top to her
skin. Dalia cursed when she realized dawn had crept in while she sat thinking
of the stranger. She walked to her bed on wooden legs, the sun sapping her
energy and making it hard to get those final three steps. She collapsed on her
bed, unable to stop sleep from claiming her.

Chapter 4

BRON STALKED THROUGH THE CROWD, his senses bombarded by the
crush of human bodies lining the streets. The parade was in full swing despite
it being late evening and emotions ranging from lust to excitement assaulted
Bron on all sides. Snatches of conversation floated to him making it hard for
him to focus. He'd lived in solitude for too long, filtering the noise was
taking more concentration than he imagined. He massaged his temples glad he
left
Little
Lord in their room, it would be one less
thing to worry about. Now that he knew what she was, he didn't bother leaving
his room until the sun set. He intended to find Dalia tonight and he didn't
want any other distractions.

He stopped when he came to the church everyone in town called
Espirito Santo; the church was the oldest on the island and many worshippers
had passed through its doors. He didn’t know how he knew, but he felt Dalia’s
presence as he walked around the building to the back of the church.

She stood at the back doors, her lovely face torn. She was
wearing a white skirt that flowed to her ankles. An occasional breeze molded
the skirt to her body showing off curves that made his mouth water. The yellow
strapless top she wore displayed her tattoos and Bron found himself longing to
trace his fingers along the sweeping lines that represented his goddess’s
warning.

He watched her silently; wondering at the battle he could
feel her waging within. He sensed she wanted to go in, but she didn’t think she
was worthy. A part of him wanted to know more, but didn’t dare intrude on her
thoughts. She walked in and Bron waited a few minutes before strolling in
behind her. He kept his body still, blending into the shadows of the church.
Dalia's steps were determined as she stopped in front of the altar. Lighting
two candles she knelt and prayed.

Forgive me for the lives I have taken
.

Her thoughts were jumbled, that single prayer the only thing
he could pull from her mind. Intrigued, he frowned, edging closer. His beast
moved restlessly through his body in alarm, a hint of its power running along
Bron's skin.

Her head turned and those haunting eyes stopped him in his
tracks. He held up his hands in the air, his eyes never leaving hers, as he
fought to keep his curiosity from showing.

“I have not come to fight with you this evening, Dalia.” He
lowered his voice so as not to alarm her. Her eyes hardened with his use of her
name. Somehow he had made another misstep.

She stood and turned her body to face him. “What have you
come for then?”

Her husky voice moved through Bron’s body, leaving a trail
of fire. His beast moved again, this time in interest. He could hear the
impatience in her voice when she addressed him.

He put his hands down. “I think we got off on the wrong
foot.”

She snorted.

 Bron found himself charmed by the sound. “I didn't
mean to get on your bad side yesterday.” He tried to lighten the tension.

“You roll up on any woman in a dark alley papi, and you're bound
to get on their bad side. What do you want from me?” Her hands were loose at
her sides.

Bron, a trained soldier, knew a fighting stance when he saw
one. He could practically swim in all the distrust she was throwing his way.
His animal circled his body, preparing itself for a battle for dominancy. Bron
pushed down on his power and kept his voice calm. As a shape shifter, enemies
to the Ajo, his senses were heightened, the hunter in him wary to see what she
would do.

"I want only to talk."

"Is that right?"

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile at her
sarcastic tone. "I mean you no harm, Dalia."

"I can't tell by your stalking."

"Ouch." He winced and raised his hand to his chest
in mock distress. "Stalking sounds harsh, I'm merely pursuing you."

Her lips twitched as she fought a smile. "Following a
woman into a church and spying on her while she prays, is stalking."

"You pray for the lives you have taken?" It
slipped out, but he had to know.