A Destiny Revealed (7 page)

"I will have the amulet, but I won't be rushed."

"Maksim got closer." The councilman taunted.

Nala laughed, she was not so easily riled. "Maksim
captured the Oracle, but he found out quick enough he couldn't use her without
the amulet."

The councilman's aggravation vibrated in his tense silence.
"There are some who object the amount of conversions you are doing."
He tried another tactic.

"The council wants an army, I'll give them one, but I
will have my power also." Nala snapped. "Don't make the mistake of
thinking I'm can be led like Maksim. If they are jealous of the power I hold,
then I would suggest they convert more Ajo."

"You know that is not possible, the treaty-"

"Yes, the treaty requires that we not convert any Ajo.
If I am to risk the Amanda coming down on my head, it's only right that I have
the power to defend myself. I'm the one taking all the risks."

"Don't get ahead of yourself Nala, Maksim was taken
down, don't think the same can't be said for you," he warned. His voice
dropped an
octave,
compulsion weaved into the deep
timbre.

She lowered her head to keep him from seeing the hate in her
eyes.

"In war, there are many casualties; the council is the
only thing between you and the other Ajo who would gladly kill you for the
power you hold." He left with that warning in the air.

Nala let out a relieved breath at his departure. He was
right, there were many who would kill her to gain her power. It was necessary
to get the
amulet,
it was the only way to keep the
wolves at bay. 

Chapter 7

 DALIA ROLLED HER SHOULDERS, and stretched her arms to
test her muscles. She twisted her body, waiting on the soreness that normally
accompanied her rapid healing. There was none. After the fight she and Nala
had, Dalia expected her body to be screaming in protest.

She checked the clock and slumped back on the sofa in
relief. Only an hour had passed- she would not fry on her mother's couch with
the rising sun. The smell of freshly baked bread tickled her nose and brought
tears to her eyes. Some things never changed. For as long as she was alive her
mother baked bread, that smell would always comfort her.

 She gingerly touched the wound on her neck and frowned,
she touched the one on her shoulder. They were nearly healed. It usually took
her an entire rising before her injuries healed, sometimes two. Had to be
Bron's blood, there was no other explanation.

           
“Dalia, do you want something to eat?” her mother called from the kitchen.

           
“Mama, it is four o’clock in the morning. You should be resting, not cooking
for me. Besides, I'm a vampire, we only drink blood.”

           
Isabelle snorted and continued to putter around the kitchen, dismissing her
daughter’s tone. “Please child, it takes more than blood to sustain a body. I'm
up, there's food, are you eating or not?”

           
“Yes ma’am.” Dalia laughed and stood up from the sofa. “I would love some of
your bread.” She walked to the kitchen. Her mother amazed her. How did she
manage to cook without her sight?

           
“Sit.” Her mother set two places at the kitchen table. She turned and attacked
the countertops with a sponge. The dishwasher churned next to the stove.

           
"How can you tell when the counters are clean?"

           
"Child please, I can feel dirt and crumbs. Mary deep cleans when she comes
through."

           
Huh, made sense.

           
“Mama you said you were able to see things, what does that mean?”

           
Isabelle's movement slowed, and for a moment Dalia thought she would ignore her
question.

           
“The women in our family have always been able to see things.” She ran water
over the sponge and started on the sink, the cleaning an obvious delaying
tactic.  “We have been gifted to be able to see things beyond the veil.”

           
Dalia perked up.
“The veil?”

           
“
Sí
, things that are not of this world.
The afterlife, for some.
You wonder why I don't leave this house.
Your father’s spirit is here and I talk with him every day.” The ding of the
oven bell punctuated her statement.

           
 Dalia watched her mom, stunned. “Why haven't you told us about this?”

           
“Everything in its time and place.”
Isabelle said in
answer. She dried her hands and grabbed the potholder. Her movements precise,
her mother removed the hot bread from the oven. “You have a part of my sister
in you now, and soon you will become familiar with the veil.” She placed the
bread in the middle of the table and touched Dalia on the shoulder.

           
Dalia frowned as her mother moved to leave the room. “You set two places,
aren’t you joining me?”

           
“That second place is for your young man.”

           
“I don’t have a young man.” Dalia narrowed her eyes.

           
No way he could find her here, right?

           
Her mother scoffed and moved to the front door. There was a quiet knock and
Isabelle opened the door to Bron. He stepped into the house and immediately his
presence charged the air in the room, taking up more space than Dalia was
comfortable with. He looked casual and at ease, very laid back for someone who
had just saved her life. He wore a pair of faded jeans that hung loose from his
hips, but she would not call them baggy. No, the way those jeans fit his butt
was anything other than baggy. The t-shirt he wore was tight across his chest
and the front was tucked into his jeans as though he got dressed in a hurry.

           
She turned her back to them, furious at the heat that pooled low in her
abdomen. She didn’t know what it was about this guy. She would’ve liked to know
how he kept finding her. It was starting to get downright eerie.

           
 His powerful form towered over her mother’s more diminutive frame, but
his soft tone and movements were gentle as he and her mother spoke. They spoke
in a language she didn’t recognize. Dalia refused to look up as her mother
escorted Bron into the kitchen. His scent drifted to her as he stopped right
next to her chair, clean and earthy, it wrapped around her. Reluctantly she met
his eyes and wished she hadn’t. His eyes promised things that made her body
tingle; they were intense and focused solely on her.

           
“Dalia, this man will hopefully have answers for you about your purpose.”
Isabelle motioned for Bron to sit and left the two of them alone.

           
Dalia eyed Bron as he broke off a piece of bread and ate as though nothing in
the world was wrong.

           
“Really?
That’s what’s hot in the streets? You’re just
going to sit there and eat like you’re not stalking me?” His arrogance
staggered her.

           
Bron shrugged his shoulders and continued eating. The nonchalant motion pushed
her anger up another notch.

           
“What are you doing here?”

           
“Right now?”
He spread butter across his bread. “I am
enjoying some of the best bread I've had for a while. I can never manage to
make bread this way. Do you think it's the water? I've heard the water makes a
difference.”

           
Dalia fumed. She slammed her hand against the table in a burst of anger. “How
do you know my mother?”

           
Bron continued eating, his movements unrushed. “More like your mother knows me.
I’ll have to ask her how she bakes this bread.”

           
“Get serious,” she demanded.

           
“I am serious.” He smiled.

           
Damn, the things his smile did to her, butterflies took flight in her chest.
Dalia shook her head to dislodge her traitorous thoughts. “How are you finding
me?”

           
Bron cocked his head. He sighed and dropped the rest of his bread back onto the
plate. “First, you need to calm
down,
your emotions
are making it difficult for my… me to be calm.”

           
“Are you threatening me?” She leaned back in her chair.

           
“Not threatening, Dalia. It's hard for me to concentrate when your emotions are
heightened.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her closer.

           
A spark of power went through her hand where it joined his. Dalia snatched her
hand away and eyed him suspiciously.

           
“Are you feeling better?” He changed the subject.

           
Dalia shrugged her shoulder. “Yes.”

           
Bron stared and Dalia squirmed under the scrutiny. His dark eyes belied his
easygoing manner; they searched her face, trying to ferret out her carefully
guarded secrets.

           
“The wounds are almost
healed,
you didn’t need to come
here to check on me.” She lowered her head to break the eye contact. 

Bron shifted in his seat and resumed eating. “How often do
you have to feed?”

Dalia blinked at the change in subject. She stared
nonplussed. He didn't get the hint that she wanted him to leave.

Incredible.

“I have to feed everyday.” She didn't elaborate. 

They stared at each other. 

Dalia rolled her eyes when she realized Bron had no plans to
leave. An awkward silence descended the table. She cut a slice of bread to
occupy her hands.

“How is it you are able to eat?” Bron asked after a moment.

Dalia made a sound of impatience. “Vampires are not dead.
When we’re turned, we die yes, but we're brought back to life. We still have to
eat to sustain our body. The blood is to keep our organs functioning. It allows
our heart to function same as yours.”

“Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, despite the fact that you're following me around
willy
nilly, there are plenty of things you don’t know about
me." 

           
"You consider yourself vampire?" His tone was curious, sincere.

           
"I consume blood, can't go out in the daytime," she snapped holding
up a finger for each point she made. "Oh and a vampire converted me, soo
yes, I think I qualify as a vampire."

BRON NODDED. She
fidgeted,
her
movements, jerky, aggravated. She was angry and the sparks that lit her eyes only
made her more beautiful. Bron wanted to lean over and kiss the stubborn line of
her mouth until she melted against him. He asked her the question that burned
through his mind since he met her.

“Did you choose to become what you are?”

She stiffened and turned her head. “Why are so interested in
vampires?”

Bron quickly deduced that subject was not up for discussion.
“I'm not so much interested in vampires as I’m interested in you.”

Her eyes betrayed her for only a moment, but he saw that
flare of interest. She was wary of him, and he could understand that.

“Don’t be.” She ordered.

Bron chuckled at her defiance.
“Yes,
ma’am.”

 Dalia’s lips twitched in amusement.  “You said
when we met you could tell what I was.”

Bron nodded at her unspoken question.
“Your
tattoos.”

“What about the tattoos?”

           
Knowledge lay in her eyes. She knew the tattoos marked her for what she was. He
raised an eyebrow. He would play her game for now.

           
“The tattoos are ancient symbols of the wind, our goddess’s way of marking and
warning the tribe."

           
“Are you searching for vampires like me?” Suspicion darkened her eyes, turning
the whiskey depths deep brown.

           
 “Not vampires, Ajo, and we hunt them.” It occurred to him once the words
were out of his mouth that it could've been said in a better way. She flinched,
and he forced his beast down as she stood feet apart, fist clenched at her
sides. Her anger filled the room.

“What do you mean hunt?” 

Bron didn't answer.

Her anger spiked.

He grabbed her hand a second before it could connect with
his face.

“Calm down, Dalia. I didn't come to hurt you.” His voice was
calm but his body heated, turned on by her. She was beautiful in her
anger.          

Dalia fought against his hold. Panic, arousal both swirled
in her eyes, and warmed her skin under his hand.

Weak

He pulled the unspoken word from her thoughts. “You’re not
weak, Dalia. Whatever is going on between us does not make you weak in any
way.”

She hissed at him and he loosened his grip, allowing her to
snatch her hand away.

"Great, you read minds too." Contempt dripped from
her voice as she stepped around him.

Damn it, would she always run from him?

“Dalia, wait,” Bron called catching up to her and grabbing
her shoulder. She shrugged him off and he followed her out the door to another
building behind the house. He made another attempt to detain her, but she
ignored him and tried to close the door. She cursed when she saw his foot
blocking it.

“Leave me alone." She struggled for a few moments
before giving up and turning her back to him. “I don’t want you here.” 

Again, Bron ignored her, stepping into her room. He scanned
the room taking in the sparse furniture. Her scent permeated the small space,
and a sharp stab of longing took him off guard.

“What do you want from me?” Her broken whisper surprised
them both. She cleared her throat.

Bron stepped closer to her. Need clawed his insides, the
emotion in her voice drawing him.

She backed up another step. “You can say it from
there.”