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Chapter Twenty One

The big ball of fire hung low in the orange sky. The sunset in these parts of the world was very different from the one back in her tribe. It wasn’t less beautiful than back home, just different. Naiah let out a sigh. Yeah, maybe different wasn’t the best way to go after all. Life outside her tribe was much too complicated.
People
complicated things, to be more exact. What was wrong with enjoying each other’s company? Why did everything need to be thought about, or weighted in? Why did Dyam have to be so damned respectful? She didn’t want respectful, she didn’t want to fall in love, she wanted to party. She wanted to enjoy life before that freaking omen bit her in the ass.

She pushed off the green grass at Tardieh’s beautiful garden and made her way back to the house. The vampires would be waking up soon, and Zoricah needed her shake before dinner, or breakfast, or whatever they called the first meal of the evening here. Oh, Mighty Soartas, life was much too complex in here. Maybe Yara had been right, she wasn’t ready for this world. Or perhaps it was exactly the opposite.

She opened the heavy door and walked into the main hallway. She needed to cut the umbilical cord once and for all, and travel, go explore the world, like she told Dyam she would. Well, that had been more a spur of the moment statement, driven by humiliation, rather than a real plan. Nonetheless, it had been spoken from the heart, and thus, that’s what she would do.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Naiah paused by the kitchen’s door and forced her mind to stop thinking about the damned vampire for a moment and focus on her surroundings. She glanced around, examining the area. Something was amiss, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The house seemed much too quiet, even for this time of day.

She tiptoed to the bottom of the long staircase and listened. Nothing. No noises, no people. That was odd. She gasped softly when she finally realized what was wrong with that picture.
Arthur.
He was nowhere to be found. Whenever she woke up or came back from her walks in the garden, the old vampire had been there to greet her, to offer her a refreshment, to ask how her day had been. This constant in these erratic times was somewhat reassuring. In the few days she’d been living there, she’d learned that Arthur rose late afternoon, and by the time the sun went down, he could be found in the kitchen, preparing his king’s blood drink and the queen’s meal. Every day, like a well-oiled clock. But not today, and that was really weird.

She gave a little shrug and went into the kitchen to prepare Z’s shake. She opened the industrial fridge and pulled out one of the bottles. Then she closed the door.

And Arthur was right there, staring wide eyed at her.

“Merciful Soartas, Arthur!” she screamed in surprise. “You startled me!”

He didn’t reply. He kept on staring at her. She recoiled, feeling really uncomfortable.

“Can…can I help you?”

His torso moved forward, as if trying to reach out to her, but it was clear something was stopping him.

“What is it, Arthur? You’re scaring me.”

She lifted her hand up and held him by the shoulder. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well and needed a sip of the potion too. As her hand clasped around his thin, cold arm, he wobbled sideways, and his head slumped forward.

It was only then that Naiah noticed the massive slash on his neck; his head had been completely severed from his body. Crimson blood started pouring out. With the movement and pressure, the last remaining muscles that had been holding his head in place, and his heart beating, snapped. The lifeless skull tumbled over, bouncing off Naiah’s chest, and crashed on the white tiles below.

Unable to stop herself, Naiah screamed and screamed, until the whole house was awake.

Chapter Twenty Two

“Hmm, this is simply divine!” Yara moaned after having another mouthful of succulent meat. She usually kept her wild side in check when it came to table manners, but Rafe’s lamb chops were simply heavenly.

He chuckled at her spontaneous reaction from across the table. “Do you like it then?”

“Like it? That’s the understatement of the century!”

After she took a long hot shower and raided Rafe’s wardrobe for clothes, she found him in the kitchen, already finishing their supper. She had been flabbergasted at the way he knew his herbs and spices. She had never met a guy who took so much pleasure in cooking. That was another side of Rafe that was a stark contrast with his bad boy mask.

He reached across and brushed her spiky strands of hair with his fingers. A soft purr reverberated in her chest. A silly smile played on his lips, as if he knew how much she enjoyed a good caress.

Too soon, he retrieved his hand, and took another bite of his own food. “Now, your turn.”

Yara looked at him confused. He lifted an eyebrow at her.

Oh, right. He had “showed his,” now it was her turn to spill out her beans and pretend she was OK with it. She’d rather spend their time together in the bedroom, but by the look he was giving her, she wouldn’t be able to dance her way out of her promise this time around.

She took a deep breath and put her fork down. “How much do you know about water witches?”

He shrugged. “You’re a tight community of female warriors that every male creature in the planet dreams about, and secretly prays to be abducted by and used as a sex slave for the rest of his days.”

His remark stole a chuckle out of her. Silly man. “We
are
a female-only community,” she granted. “But that comes with a price.”

“What price?” he asked, as if his mind couldn’t possibly fathom any down side to that scenario.

“We’re not allowed to fall in love,” Yara stated bluntly, choosing to take the band-aid approach – better fast and completely than bit by bit.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, pausing his fork in mid-air.

“And I dared to,” she added.

He lifted his eyebrow at her again. “Please tell me your mother killed the guy.”

Yara rolled her eyes at his silliness, but couldn’t stop the grin from lifting the corners of her lips. Rafe could bring light to her darkest moments like no one else could. He winked at her and she embraced his charm to gather strength to relive those painful memories. “I remember the day I decided to run away. I was so certain, so full of love I thought I’d burst. I had only told my cousin Yuma-ci about Pedro.”

He frowned. “That same cousin who was shooting arrows at you in the jungle?”

“The very same,” she replied grimly. “We were best friends back then, thick as thieves. She would always convince me to play pranks and all, but when push came to shove, I was the one who came home with the trophy, unscathed.”

“Sounds like a great gal to me,” he joked sarcastically.

Yara nodded. “She was the one who tipped my mother off about me running away. I was furious, but in the end, it was her betrayal that saved my life.”

Rafe frowned, but waited when she paused to take a sip of her water. Her mouth had gone suddenly very dry. “As it turned out, Pedro wasn’t in love with me; he was in love with my magic. He wanted me to help him become a millionaire overnight. And when I refused, things turned ugly.”

Yara took a deep breath as the memories came rushing out. As soon as she had arrived at his family house that fateful night, Pedro changed. His unconditional love wasn’t as unconditional after all. He’d known she had nowhere else to go, that she couldn’t go back to her family because their laws were clear – if you leave, you don’t go back. He became indifferent, cold, as if he was doing her a favor by providing her food and shelter. He started getting home late at night, smelling like other women and when she confronted him, he’d turn violent. She felt like an unwanted pet under his roof, but things got even worse. He soon started forcing her to do things she didn’t want to, like use her magic to create a diversion while he cheated on a poker game. His little pranks got bigger and bigger until the day when he arrived with glimmering eyes telling her of his fantastic new plan. He was going to rob a bank and become a millionaire. And she would help him. Even after so many years, the pain of her realization – of seeing that you’re nothing to the one who is everything to you – cut deep into her inmã.

“I refused to do it of course,” Yara carried on out loud. “But Pedro didn’t take no for an answer. He knew how much I depended on him. He played me like a fool, threatened to leave me if I didn’t do his bidding. I was too insecure to fight back. I had abandoned my family for him, I was afraid I’d be lost without him too.”

Rafe stood up and took the seat next to her. “You shouldn’t beat yourself for it, Yara. It’s hard to get out of an abusive relationship, especially when the violence is psychological, when there’s no physical evidence.”

Yara could sense the fury in his voice, mixed with a deep understanding and compassion.

She nodded in agreement but it was easier said than done. She knew how deep a scar psychological abuse could leave behind. Today, she actually felt lucky in a sordid kind of way. In most cases, even after years of abuse, women still believed they weren’t worthy of anything better. Nonetheless, Yara’s scars were still very present.

She looked down at her hands. “Funny,” she whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever told this story to anyone. Not even Z knows it to this extent.” She heard him gasp at her words. It was almost imperceptible but her confession had surprised him as much as she was surprised at having opened herself up like that.

His hand cupped her neck, kneading her tight muscles. “What happened after that?” he asked softly.

She looked at him in the eye, expecting to find pity – the most intolerable of sentiments – but she was wrong. Instead, she found only resolve and respect. She knew then that he understood her pain and didn’t think her any weaker because of that. And
that
realization gave her fuel to continue. “As we walked into the bank in broad daylight and took everyone hostage, my mother showed up with a handful of witches. They managed to stop us, thank Apa Dobrý, but the human guards were heavily armed and fought back thinking they were in on it too.” Yara closed her eyes as the sound of the bullets ripping through walls, people screaming, children crying echoed in her mind. “The attack cost us the life of one of our leaders. Mother Neide,” she swallowed the lump in her throat but the stubborn tears still rolled down her cheeks. “Because of me, we lost one of our most cherished elders. And for that, my mother cursed me.”

Yara saw Rafe’s Adam’s apple work up and down. “Your own mother cursed you.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded. “Whenever I had wanted to sneak out to be with Pedro, I would shift into a black panther to leave undetected. My mother is the only other water witch with those powers, she understands the magic behind it, so she was able to tie my inmã to a panther’s. Forever.”

“And the other Mothers didn’t say anything? Didn’t protect you?” Rafe asked obviously appalled by her story.

Yara shook her head. “Rafe,
I
didn’t fight it. I deserved it. An elder’s life was cut short because of my stupidity, because I was naïve enough to trust a man.”

Rafe cringed at her words, and Yara cursed inside for her rudeness. Z had warned her once or twice that sometimes she was too blunt, too tactless. At the time, Yara had shrugged it off, blaming it on her Latin blood. But now, she didn’t want to. “I’m sorry, Rafe, I didn’t mean it that way,” she apologized. “It’s just that, so far, no male has proven to me they are worthy of my trust.” And that included him, but she decided not to say it out loud. Instead, she reached across and stroked his arm. “But that doesn’t give me the right to be rude to you.”

“No, it’s OK,” Rafe replied not making eye contact. “I understand.”

He stood up and leaned on the sink, facing the window. An awkward silence descended upon them. A large bat flew past outside, and an owl screeched in the warm, dark night.

Damn you, Soartas! That’s why she didn’t do relationships. It all got too intimate, too hard, too fast. One-night stands and nameless sex were superficial and hard on her heart, but at least they didn’t have any demands.

She took a deep breath and felt the ache in her chest. Rafe was different. Even though he had found her because he was working for Phillip, he had made his way into her heart. Something told her he was worth it; something told her that she shouldn’t give up so easy.

“Rafe…” Yara called softly.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he exhaled sharply, and started taking his jeans off.

“What are you doing?” Was he bailing out on her?

After shrugging off his T-shirt he offered her his hand. “Come, I wanna show you something.”

Chapter Twenty Three

Rafe put everything he had into his hind legs and darted across the clearing. Yara was right behind him, in her stunning panther form. After he took off his clothes and asked her to join him outside, she had stared at him as if he’d grown horns. But then she simply smiled back and followed him without a question. What a woman. When she shared her painful story – how she’d been stabbed in the back by not only her best friend but her boyfriend as well, and then being cursed and cast away by her own mother – something had tugged at Rafe’s heart. It wasn’t pity, no, it was awe. She had tasted the gates of Hiad, but hadn’t let it take her down. He recalled her power at the Dungeon when she was fighting with the lamassu deamon, her fervor at the masquerade toga party when he kissed her. Yara exuded life, she exuded a determination that said “Fuck you, Soartas, no matter what you throw at me, I’ll bounce back up and eat it for breakfast.” Yes, Yara was a female of worth and deserved to be revered. And that meant telling her
his
truth. The whole truth – that he’d been hired by the dragon lord to kill King Tardieh, that the first time he saw her was in London, not in Brazil, that he too found release in sex clubs, and that he was the one who took the box of atomic bullets. She had let her guards down and opened herself out to him; he wanted to do the same for her.

But it was easier planned than done. Rafe wanted to come clean to her, but he knew she’d be really pissed, and for the first time in his life, he was scared shitless of a woman leaving him. Yara had been the only one with whom he’d wanted to share his life. And Archie was right, if he were to convince her to stay – not as a prisoner but because she wanted to – he needed to come forth and tell her everything. And he’d do it … eventually. He just needed a bit more time to get the courage.

He sprinted across the narrow dirt path that indicated they were leaving his pack’s territory. The wind blew across his fur, helping him clear up his mind. Yara caught up and was now galloping with him, side by side. Her black coat shone against the moonlight. She looked like she had needed some fresh air too.

It felt good, it felt right to run with her. The adrenaline rushed through his muscles, making him lightheaded. He swung sideways and bumped into Yara on purpose.
Hehehe.
She never saw it coming, and staggered away on a tangent. But in no time, she was back full throttle, and crashed onto him, making
him
stumble down. His nose met grass, his mouth tasted dirt.

She came to a halt a few feet ahead from him and turned around, her emerald green eyes sparkled, her tail wiggled happily in the air.

Oh, big mistake, girl! It was on!

Rafe pushed off the ground and ran after her wise ass. She was fast and was swinging from left to right, successfully blocking Rafe’s path. But he had other moves up his sleeve. He waited until he got really close then nipped on her tail, holding her back. Yara wailed in protest then turned around and bit his fluffy white ears. It didn’t hurt, of course, but Rafe used that attack as an excuse to turn up the volume. They toppled over each other, nibbling on tails, chewing on ears, fooling around.

In the midst of it all, Rafe couldn’t stop his mind from bowling over. They were the opposite of each other – one panther, one wolf, one feline, one canine, one black, the other white, but Rafe had never felt so close to another inmã before. They were different but the same. They were both survivors of this world; they had both crashed and burned, yet they got up and prevailed, and kicked ass.

After a while rolling on the grass like two hyperactive cubs, Rafe jumped up and dashed toward his hidden nook. Yara followed suit. He let out a pleasurable grunt as his nostrils caught in the scent of fresh water. Moments later, he slowed down to a trot to let Yara take in the change of scenery. He heard her purr next to him when the site of a blue river appeared before them. The moon was casting a beautiful shadow along its crystalline surface. The rim was covered by tall pine trees. It was a truly stunning place.

He went to the bank and drank a few gulps of water, delighting himself in its crispness.

“Ai, Apa Dobrý, this is amazing!” he heard her exclaim behind him. She had shifted back into her human form.

She stood next to him, like a Brazilian goddess, with her toned body glistening from the exertion of their run, her short hair as spiky as ever. She cast him a glance then dropped to her knees and ran her hands through his fur and along his back.

Oh, Mighty Soartas, that felt so good! Rafe closed his eyes and enjoyed her caresses.

“Your coat is so smooth,” she whispered. “I wanted to touch it when we met in the jungle but I chickened out.” She scratched behind his ears and Rafe couldn’t stop himself from droning. She chuckled and awarded him with a wide smile.

Too soon, she pulled away and Rafe found himself whining with the loss. He sat on his hind legs as she went to the water and dived in. She looked magnificent, swimming in the lake. A strange green glimmer appeared around her, as if she was recharging.

“This is beautiful, thank you,” she said, stepping out of the water. She shook her head dry, like panthers do.

Rafe snorted a chuckle. Old habits die hard.

She paused, realizing that he’d noticed her, and giggled coyly. Wow. Yara always managed to look amazing, no matter what she was wearing, or when she wasn’t wearing anything, like right now.

Before his lower head trounced his upper one, Rafe let out a howl to get her attention, then darted toward the woods. After just a few moments, he came into a clearing. His heart raced when he saw that his old, improvised workout area was still there.

Rafe paused in the middle of his arena and shifted into his human form. “Welcome to my secret nook.”

Yara stared back at him, wide-eyed. She strolled slowly around, examining the several equipment pieces before her.

“Is this a bench press?” she asked, pointing at a carved wooden bar.

Rafe nodded in reply.

She picked it up, testing it. “Wow, it’s perfectly balanced.” She looked to the left and spotted a large sack made of leaves and twigs, tied up off a low hanging branch. “Don’t tell me you made a punch bag from scratch?” 

“OK, I won’t tell you then,” Rafe joked.

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if saying “smart ass,” and walked to examine the bag closer. “It’s amazing how you managed to secure it using the high and low tree branches.” She gave it a go with a light cross punch. The bag creaked in protest as her fist connected to it, but it performed perfectly, swinging back and forth as it should be.

“This is incredible, Rafe,” Yara exclaimed, and darted to the next machine.

She looked adorable, like a kid in a candy store. Rafe took a deep breath of relief. This secret alcove of his was much more than a few pieces of paraphernalia he’d created. It had been his home for a very long time, and it meant a lot to him. Watching Yara marvel at his creations warmed him more than he had expected.

“This is where I lived after my pack turned their backs on me,” he explained. “I had nowhere else to go, so I claimed this little corner as my own and survived off the land. I trained and worked out until I was fit enough to fight underground, and start making money.”

Yara stopped playing on his rowing machine and faced him. He saw his own pride reflected in her brown eyes.

“You see,” he paused and tried to find the right words, “I understand your resentment, Yara. I have deep scars too, but…” He ran his hand along his neck. “But if we let them drive our lives, we might as well give up. We have to learn from our falls, and never forget them, but a time must come when we have to stop giving them too much importance, and start living again.”

Yara didn’t reply. She just stared at him, blinking fast.

Oh, fuck. He’d gone too far. He knew it. Bringing her here had been a good move but his big mouth had ruined it all.

Out of nowhere, Yara stepped out of the rowing machine and stomped across the clearing. Shit, she was going to kick his ass. And she’d be right in doing so.

But she didn’t, she stopped just inches from him, cupped his face between her hands and crushed her lips on his.

“What was that for?” he asked lightheartedly, after she pulled away.

“For showing me your soul,” she replied. “I promise I’ll take good care of it.”

It was his turn to gape at her, blinking fast.

Her words rang deep in his heart. He brought her lips to his and let himself drown in her delicious mouth again. Her tongue pushed inside, snaking around his, as her hands brushed along his neck and up his hair, massaging the base of his skull. Sparks of hunger rushed down to his loins. He wrapped one arm around her narrow waist to hold her tight against him, while his other hand explored her soft skin. He grabbed her delicious ass and rocked his hip against hers. She groaned against his lips and that was music to his ears.

She was naked and ready for him. Rafe craved to be inside her again. His wolf hungered for her, to claim her as his.

Yara gently pulled back, forcing him to give her some space. Before he could protest, she ran her warm hand down his chest while her eyes let a blaze of heat where they landed. His shaft throbbed in response, as if she had willed it to. Her pink tongue swept along her lips. Her brown gaze showed nothing but pure wickedness. She leaned forward and licked the trickles of sweat from his chest, then along his abs, down his navel.

Watching him through lidded eyes, she slowly went down to her knees and brushed her fingers over his shaft.

Rafe shivered in anticipation.

She hovered in front of his midsection, her warm breath tingled his cock. He was trembling but he didn’t press her to hurry up. He didn’t have to. Inch by inch, she closed the gap, then brushed her tongue over his moist tip.

He moaned in ecstasy.
Yes, Yes!

She licked around its thick rim a few times, teasing him, obviously wanting him to know who was boss. Rafe wanted to tell her not to worry, because in his heart and mind there was no doubt that she was, but his entire vocabulary escaped him when her thick lips wrapped around his length.

Oh, Apa Dobrý, she was good!

His knees liquefied, his legs trembled, as she drew him in deep into her throat. Rafe’s hips rocked in reply; his balls grew tight as the tension built inside. But apparently she was far from done with him. Her fingers stroked the insides of his thigh, teasing the hairs around his scrotum. The more she did it, the more Rafe lost control. After a while, she picked up the tempo, licking him faster, sucking him deeper. He groaned and held her shoulders, trying to let her know he was close, that she should pull back, but she slapped his hand away and rolled her tongue tighter round his cock. Completely at her mercy, Rafe exploded inside her mouth as the orgasm rocked him hard from head to toe. All the way, Yara sucked, rubbed and swallowed his milk.

By Apa Dobrý, that cat had literally sucked him dry.