Burning up the Rain (Hawaiian Heroes) (28 page)

The door opened again, and he blinked blearily as Bella peered in, followed by Joel. They were both rumpled, and frowning. “Here you are. We’ve been down to Nawea and back, looking for you.”

Jack couldn’t have mustered the strength to be surprised if the ghost of King Kamehameha in a feather cape had stalked in next, surrounded by royal guards with shark-tooth weapons. Maybe followed by Santa and the Tooth Fairy.

The buzz of whatever the hell that had been was dissipating. He was exhausted, reeling, shaking as the adrenaline wore off and left him with no reserves. He leaned his cheek on Lalei’s hair and closed his eyes, letting them talk over and around him and his wahine.

It had been a hell of a day, even given that he was surrounded by Ho’omalus. And it wasn’t over yet, because he needed some explanations. Just as soon as he could summon the energy to open his eyes.

Instead, the room around them darkened, the people in it slipping away.

Jack knelt on a hard, hot floor of ebony rock. He held Lalei in his arms, limp and still. He gaped around them. Where the hell were they? The crowded little house had disappeared, a chamber taking its place. The walls were of striated lava, gleaming in the red-gold light that glimmered from an open doorway. As the glow brightened, it revealed the tall form of a person watching them.

Jack’s arms tightened protectively on Lalei. He shifted, ready to get his feet under him and leap up, carry her away. That was when he realized he was naked and so was she. Alarm zinged through his veins, tightening every muscle, his heart pounding.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “And how did we get here?”

The silent figure was a woman; he could see that now. She wore some kind of feathered cape and skirt like the royalty in the paintings he’d seen at the Royal Kona resort, her long hair waving down around her shoulders.

Jack squinted. Her hair almost appeared to be…on fire. No, that was crazy. He was hallucinating, that was it. Whatever the Ho’omalus had done back there—island juju or whatever.

Pacing nearer, the woman laughed, a musical sound full of amusement. “This is not a vision, Jack Nord. You are awake.”

She sank down, and he saw that a huge chair, like a throne, had been carved out of the gleaming rock. Setting her hands on the arms, she leaned back and regarded him. The glow around her grew brighter, illuminating her face.

She was beautiful, in a sturdy island way. And ageless. A thrill of realization raced through him. “You’re…you’re not human. Not like us.”

“No, haole. Not like you. I am Pele.”

Holy shit. Pele, the patroness of the volcanoes? Now he knew he was hallucinating.

Lalei stirred, and he shifted her on his lap, peering into her face, her lovely features clear in the mysterious fiery light. “Lalei? Wake up, baby,” he urged, pressing his lips to her forehead. “We need to get out of here.”

“She will wake when I tell her to,” Pele said.

Rage fired inside his chest. He didn’t care who she was, Lalei was more important. “You wake her up. She’s not your puppet, not some damn doll. She’s got enough people trying to make her dance to their tune out there.”

Wherever the fuck out there was. He looked around them. He had to figure out a way to get her out of here, to a doctor.

“Jack Nord.” Pele’s voice deepened as if it thundered from the very rock around them. She was glaring at him, no longer amused. “Lalei is mine. One of my ho’omalu, my guardians. She belongs to me, and I care for her as I do all her ohana, her family. I have healed her of the wounds she received protecting my island. Look at her.” She nodded at Lalei, and Jack obeyed.

She was perfect. Her face was clean, her arms and hands unmarred, her breasts and torso and legs golden perfection. He lifted her against his chest and smoothed his hand over her back. It was soft and sleek again, the delicate line of her backbone, the smooth sweep unharmed. He traced the length of her slender arm, stroked her bare thigh, hardly able to believe the evidence of his eyes, his hands.

Emotion choked him, and he clenched his jaw against a sob that tried to force its way out of his throat. “So–” He had to try again. He lifted his head and looked at the goddess, or patroness, or whatever she was. “So she’s going to be all right? She’s going to wake up and be fine?”

Pele inclined her head regally. “I swear it.”

He nodded, relief like a wave swamping him. “So…why are we here?”

She cocked her head, her gaze full of wisdom and amusement. “Why are you here, haole?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to retort that he was here because she’d shanghaied him, given him no choice. But then he gazed down at the woman sleeping in his arms, her head lying trustingly in the curve of his shoulder, her nude body cradled against his. The way he’d needed her to be, back there at the house, while Homu and Daniel and that crazy Lenny Liho’o chanted over her.

“Because…she’s mine.” He recoiled in shock as the words left his mouth. “I mean, I-I love her.”

The realization flooded him, along with joy and understanding. He did—he loved her. Not sure how it had happened in the short time he’d known her, but it had.

Then he shook his head, hopelessness settling over him as he looked down at the perfect woman in his arms.

“Except I don’t deserve her,” he choked out, forcing himself to face Pele. “I’m a-a drunk.”

“Ah,” the goddess breathed solemnly. “Then you must change until you do deserve her.”

“What if I can’t?”

“What if you can?” She beckoned imperiously. “Come here, Jack Nord.”

Rising off his heels, Jack knee-walked the few feet to the foot of her throne, moving slowly with Lalei in his arms. It should have been awkward as hell, but instead the chamber was full of solemn, hushed thunder, as if the mountain itself was alive with power around them.

Instinctively, Jack bowed his head. As light as a feather, as heavy as the mountain, Pele’s hand settled on his head.

“Because you belong to one of my ho’omalu,” she said. “Because you are a good man, I give you my blessing. If you will accept it. May you have the strength to do what you must, and the courage to do what you can.”

She lifted her hand away. “Now go,” she commanded. “Take my ho’omalu back to her people. And take good care of her.”

Jack levered himself to his feet. “I will. And…mahalo.” For whatever she’d done. He wasn’t sure. He felt as if he’d been blessed and challenged at the same time. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

Pele nodded, but she looked him in the eye. “I cannot heal what ails you, haole. Only our Creator can. And only you will choose which path to walk.”

He nodded. That was fine with him, as long as Lalei was going to be all right. He felt stronger, better than he had in months.

“Uh, how do we get out of here?”

She shook her head, her hair crackling around her. “You men, always so impatient. Follow the tunnel. It will lead you back.” She waved her hand toward the passage. Then her ebony gaze flicked down over his body, a lascivious glint in her smile. “Or you could stay with me.”

“Ah. Mahalo, but I don’t think I could handle you,” he said, grinning back at her. “This one’s going to be more than enough woman for me.”

Her laughter followed them into the darkness.

Then everything faded around them again. Jack knew a moment of panic, but then he shrugged mentally and gave in to it. The power of the islands was not to be denied.

“Jack. Jack, wake up, man. Time to get back to Nawea.”

Jack forced his eyes open, lifting his head from where he’d been resting his cheek on Lalei’s silky hair. Daniel leaned over him, his hand on Jack’s shoulder, his eyes concerned.

He held out his arms. “Here, I’ll take her.”

“No.” Jack’s arms tightened around Lalei. He peered down into her pale, dirty face. “No, I got her.”

He scooted to the edge of the old sofa. It creaked alarmingly under him, but he got his feet under him and stood, cradling Lalei carefully against his chest. He felt much better, his strength restored.

He had her, now and for as long as he could.

Chapter Sixteen

When Lalei woke, the first thing she saw was the shifting shadows of leaves in sunlight on the ceiling over her head. She stared and then frowned, wondering what on earth she was doing in bed during the day—again. This was getting to be a habit. Was she ill? No, something else…something had happened.

She froze as memories flooded her mind. Riding up through the night, summoning the power of the storm, then an explosion that had knocked her backward like a bomb, into the blackness. She had used her ho’omalu powers to wreak destruction.

Feeling the weight of someone’s gaze upon her, she turned her head cautiously on her pillow to find Jack sitting beside her bed, his brooding gaze on her. Jack. Joy flooded her—he was safe. She hadn’t involved him this time.

She peered more closely at him. Something was wrong. His blue eyes were shadowed. She remembered now—he was angry with her. Disgusted. Because he knew what she was? Or because he thought her a shallow socialite.

She closed her eyes, a familiar ache building behind her eyelids.

Then his warm hand enclosed hers. He lifted her right arm off the bed. His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand. Turning her hand in his, he looked at her.

“You have tattoos,” he said. His voice was gravelly, as if he hadn’t used it for hours. “On both hands.”

She lifted her other hand, examining it with wonder. A delicate tattoo marked each hand, across the back just below her knuckles. Dread followed—now he would know what she was.

Jack brushed her hair aside from her shoulder and touched her there. “Got one on your shoulder too.”

Guilt knotted her stomach, and she clenched her hands to keep from pulling the covers up and hiding under them. “I know,” she whispered.

He stared at her from under his heavy blond brows. He shook his head once, an odd light in his gaze.

She sat up, unable to lie still. “Are you—do you—” She fumbled for words, unable to ask him what she most needed to know.

She took a deep breath and drew dignity about her like a feathered cape. “I need a shower. Then we’ll talk.”

As she moved off the bed, she realized she’d been lying on a large, stained towel that covered the pillow and most of the bottom sheet. She was also naked. Whatever, he’d seen it before.

“Sure you should be up?” he asked, standing.

“I feel fine. Great, in fact.”

Staring him down, she stood up and turned with a defiant twist, walking away across the bedroom to the bathroom, where she slammed the door behind her, and scowled at it.

The door burst open behind her, and Jack stood there, his eyes wild. He reached for her, turning her away from him again. His hands tightened on her shoulders. His hands were shaking.

“You—you’ve got them on your back too,” he said. “Jesus, Lalei—last night, you were a bloody mess, but then your skin was unmarked.
I saw you.
Now you have these.”

She twisted in his grip, staring over her shoulder at herself in the mirror. She gasped. It was true. A skein of native tattoos twisted from her left shoulder, across her back and down in a graceful spray. “Oh my God,” she managed.
Oh Pele.

She’d known, of course, that her cousins’ glorious native tattoos had not been done in any tattoo parlor. They were badges of honor, given by their patroness Pele, guardian of these islands. They took the place of scars, covering wounds gained in battle to protect her islands.

Even Bella had them now. She’d been shot, would have perished from her wounds had she not been healed by Pele. Hers were much more delicate than the Ho’omalus males, like these.

But Lalei had never expected to have the tattoos herself. She’d rushed headlong into battle, giving no thought to the possibility. Of course she would still have done it, no question there.

She noticed her face and hair for the first time, and grimaced in disgust. She was covered in mud, and was that dried blood in her hair? She
stank
. With an exclamation of horror, she dove into the shower and turned the water on hot. She pulled on the door, but it wouldn’t close.

“You gonna follow me in here too?” she demanded, her lip trembling. She bit it and turned away as sudden tears welled up, streaming down her face with the water.

Jack said nothing, and she could hear only the water rushing over her head, so she flinched in surprise as a large, naked male body brushed against hers, the shower door thudding closed behind him. He reached past her, and then she felt his hands in her hair, massaging shampoo into the wet mass.

Lalei stood there weeping helplessly but needing his touch desperately, too much to push him away and salvage her pride. He tipped her head back and turned her toward him, smoothing the lather from her hair with gentle fingers. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, moving closer to her so that she was surrounded by the curve of his arms, his body a bulwark against the world outside.