“Noooooo!” Julio shoved her aside. The burning lump crashed into him instead. He collapsed to the ground, scorched and bleeding profusely.
Grief-stricken, Dian scrambled to his side. Sobs wracked her as she cradled his head on her lap. “Julio, why did you do that? I’m supposed to save you.”
He opened his eyes—they were white. He’d gone blind. “Mi vida … this … is … my destiny. I hope … we’ve made … a child … a girl … not cursed. Adios, Dian … Te amo.” With that, he breathed his last. His body going lax.
“No. No. No. No. No! Evil is not going to win. You are going to live.” She eased his head off her lap and knelt. Tilting his head, she blew into his mouth. Pushed hard on his chest. Pushed fast. Breathed into him again. And again. Ten times. A hundred times. He remained still. Lifeless.
Dian crumpled on top of Julio’s body. She thumped ineffectually at his chest. “Please come back to me.”
“Anak, bangon.” Her father’s voice ordered her to rise.
Dian lifted her head. Jose Manlapaz’s image floated where Maria had stood. The witch had vanished, the hellish environ she had created was gone as well. Her father had vanquished the diwata.
“Ama, please help us. Heal him. Bring him back to me.”
“You don’t need me, my child. Don’t give up. You have the gift within you. Use your love for him, his love for you. That is your greatest power.” His image started to flicker. “When he comes back, he will be free from the curse. Keep faith, Anak. Believe.”
Love. Believe.
Wiping her tears, Dian lay beside Julio.
Love. Believe.
Briefly closing her eyes, Dian prayed to the gods of every faith and religion, of pagans and Christians, of ancient and new. She took a deep breath and began.
“I love. I believe.”
She caressed his head, where the cut from the rock still bled. “You came to me in a dream. You wanted me from the start.” The wound closed.
Hope blooming within her, she stroked his arms and chest. “You kissed me, and I never wanted it to end.” His burns faded away, his bones popped back together.
Rejoicing, she sobbed, “You gave your life for me. You loved me.” She laid her hand over his heart. It started beating.
“You love me. I love you, too. Live, corazón mío.” She kissed him.
He kissed her back.
Joy burst through, bright and much wanted.
“Welcome back, mi amor,” Dian whispered against his lips.
Julio took her in his arms. “I live. I’m free.”
“Welcome to the Philippines, Comandante Gomez. Welcome home.”
~*The End*~
Author’s Note
Diwata is inspired by the Filipino myth about Maria Makiling. It has many versions, but the main story has always been thus:
In the mountain called Makiling, town of Los Baños, province of Laguna, resides a forest nymph who falls in love with a mortal. The love is sometimes reciprocated, other times not. Circumstances always prevent them from being together. Brokenhearted and bitter, Maria retreats to her mountain, never to be seen again.
~~ * * * ~~
In my version, she lives.
As beautiful as ever.
As vindictive as people never thought she could be.
~~ * * * ~~
Para sa yo ito, Kevin. Sumalangit nawa ang iyo’ng kaluluwa.
Muchas gracias, Sera, por ayudarme con mi Español.
~ MM
~~ * * * ~~
About the Author
Zara M Baily writes multicultural romance short stories that are erotic, paranormal, fantasy, and perhaps also historical in the future. One thing is for certain: Zara doesn’t do and won’t ever do sweet. Or clean. Her sexytimes may be dirty at times, but they’re always, always consensual and responsible.
Follow Zara here:
Facebook Profile: zaram.baily.3
Facebook Author Page: ZaraMBaily
Goodreads: Zara_M_Baily
Instagram: zarambaily
LOVE OUT OF THE ASHES
Tabetha Waite
For years, Markus Henley has been haunted by a recurring dream—a sensual vision of a mysterious woman. He finally encounters her on a fateful trip, but not everything is as it appears …
Tormented by a terrible tragedy that has broken her spirit, Laura Tipton feels she has nothing left. Then Markus arrives to awaken her spirit. In more ways than one.
(m/f; heat level: smoking)
LOVE OUT OF THE ASHES
Chapter One
Laura Tipton stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She no longer recognized the face looking back at her: it didn’t matter how long she stood there. She had changed drastically from the woman she had once been, the vivacious and lively brunette who had had the world at her feet. Now she could barely even leave the sanctuary of her sister’s house.
She recalled the day, almost a year ago now, that had altered her life. She closed her brown eyes and clenched the sink. Even now she could feel the smoke clogging her lungs and the burning heat scorching her face, the result of the horror that lived on in the blistering scars that now covered eighty-five percent of her body.
Her fiancé, Geoff, was her rock through all the months of painful skin grafts, but when the doctor had said she’d be a circus freak for the rest of her days, Geoff had hit the door running. The emptiness of his desertion was devastating enough, without the mounting medical bills. The toughest loss to swallow was when she realized that her only source of income was a useless pile of rubble. Her dissolute father had drunk away all the profits of their resort, letting the insurance lapse before he died.
She had nothing left.
Laura opened her palm and looked down at the streaks of warped flesh that marred her once-smooth and youthful skin. She wondered if she wouldn’t have been better off to perish in that blaze. As the shrink had told her when she was released from the hospital, doubts were bound to be her constant companion after such a debilitating tragedy. After six months of psychological therapy, she couldn’t help but snort at the waste of time and effort it had all been. It was all well and good to dish out advice when you looked normal.
She should be used to the stares and whispers when she walked by a crowd of people. Laura seldom left the house without a jacket and a pair of jeans that covered most of her scars, never more grateful to live in Washington State where even the summers were cool.
Unfortunately, she was unable to hide the deformity on her left cheek. Even though she’d been lucky enough to keep her hair, a slight breeze and all was revealed. Small children would point, then cry in horror and revulsion when they realized it was a real person walking among them instead of some zombie from a comic book.
So she avoided parks and shopping malls these days, rather than terrorize any more toddlers.
If it weren’t for Natalie, she wouldn’t have made it this far.
Thankfully, since she didn’t have anywhere else to go, James allowed her to stay with them. But Laura felt her niece and two nephews would be only too happy to get rid of the creepy aunt in their basement apartment.
With a tear trickling down her cheek, Laura moved away from the mirror. After today, she promised herself that she would never look back again …
~~ * * * ~~
“Packing up already?”
Markus Henley glanced up from the box he was putting the last of his teaching materials into. He’d already shoved the end-of-semester papers into his leather satchel. “Now that finals are over, my students and I are ready to part ways. At this point, English Lit is no longer on anyone’s mind.”
“I hear you,” his fellow professor agreed with a nod. In his mid-fifties, Dr. Henry Peering, an instructor of algebra, was a veteran when it came to the pressures of education.
“I don’t see how you’ve taught for thirty years with most of your hair still intact,” Markus said with a smirk. “I’ve taught for nearly ten, and I’m thinking of washi
ng my hands of it all.”
“It can certainly be a challenge at times,” his associate agreed. “So, you got any big plans for the summer?”
Markus leaned against the edge of his desk that faced a now-empty classroom. “I’ve got a hiking trip in Washington in a couple of weeks.”
“Ah, yes, I remember that now. No fishing on the agenda?”
Markus had to grin. Dr. Peering was dedicated to the sport. He went to Florida at least twice a year in the attempt to catch a prize-winning tarpon. “Not as yet, but I promise if I catch a rare species, I’ll send you an e-mail.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” The other man laughed. “Have a good one.”
“Thanks. You too.”
Markus paused just inside the door to his office as two female professors walked by. He recognized one as Patricia Peters. They’d gone on a couple of dates, but nothing had come of it.
“… Markus Henley. He’s pretty hot if you like the dark-haired brooding type, but I don’t think he’s over his ex-wife.”
There was a brief murmur Markus couldn’t quite make out.
“Yeah. Divorced.”
Markus clenched his jaw as they moved far enough away for their conversation to drift off. He adjusted his box of supplies and walked down the hall and out the door of the building.
As he started his car—a vintage black GTO—he replayed Patricia’s description of him. Dark-haired, brooding type. Really? It sounded like she needed to lay off the romance novels.
As for the claim that he was still in love with Jennifer? No way.
He was finding single life much more fulfilling than married life had ever been. Fucking with no strings attached.
How was that a bad deal?
He put the car in drive and felt the power surge through his veins as the tires gripped the pavement.
~~ * * * ~~
Later that night, Markus woke up with a groan, his cock pulsing with the urgent need for release. The dream. Damn.
He gripped himself with his palm, and began to work a steady rhythm, up and down. The familiar stirring in his loins soon told him he was close to an orgasm. As the curvaceous outline of the female from his dream appeared behind his closed lids, he pumped faster and faster, until finally, spurts of hot come spilled over his lean stomach. Once every drop had been exhausted, he relaxed against the pillows with a relieved sigh. He hadn’t felt such a drastic ache in weeks, even though it hadn’t been that long since a willing woman’s lips had wrapped around him. Then again, he had never been with her.
He went into the bathroom to wipe himself off, then he padded naked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The light blinded him for a moment as he grabbed a beer and popped the top. After downing half the can in one gulp, he remembered what had woken him up, eager and horny like a randy teenager.
The first time he’d had “the dream” was about a year before he’d married Jennifer. He’d been wakened from a sound sleep, his loins on fire. Even though he was a professor of English Lit, he’d never believed in the absurd verses by poets like Byron and Keats. But this … vision had been so shocking, so real, that he had no rational explanation for it. Since then it had always been the same. He was standing at the foot of a bed, a glowing red light shining on one side of the bed. The opposite side of the room held a door that led to God only knew where. But there, at that moment, with an unknown woman in his arms, his hands cradling her cheeks, he felt true contentment, dare he even say love …
Markus scrubbed a hand down his face and finished off his Bud Light. He’d thought these recurring dreams of the mystery woman were over. At least two years had passed since the last one, the first being right before he’d made one of the biggest mistakes of his life: saying “I do” to Jennifer. He wondered why she had returned, with her long dark hair and firm breasts.
He shrugged. If nothing else could be said, whenever she appeared, he had the best orgasms of his life.
Chapter Two
Markus walked down the tarmac at SeaTac, pulling his rolling suitcase behind him on his way to his rental car. So far, Washington State was a lovely sight to behold—a far cry from the Midwest with its dripping humidity and endless fields of soybeans, wheat, and corn. The towering pine trees and the mountain range with its snow-capped peaks in the distance were a nice change of pace. His blood pounded in his veins. He couldn’t wait to get out on all those trails.
He chuckled to himself. Maybe he’d even make friends with a Sasquatch while he was here.
Markus stopped before a red Mazda RX-8. While it wasn’t his GTO, it looked like it would do for some fun, sporty driving. He threw his stuff onto the back seat, got in, and started the engine. Within minutes he was on the highway and headed toward the forest of trees beyond the grandeur of Seattle, following the directions on his cell phone’s GPS. He was looking forward to some tranquility after a tough semester.
Each year, he always found someplace new to explore. He had a student that year from Washington State, so he began checking out the area on the Internet. Several ski resorts around the region of Mt. Rainier National Park looked interesting. Since it wasn’t the peak season, he decided that would be perfect. He wanted something a bit isolated and off the beaten path. That was when he’d come across Tipton’s Chalet.
The pictures were incredible and exactly what he’d been looking for, so he’d booked his reservation online. He’d called to verify his stay before he left, but he’d had to leave a message, and no one had called him back yet. He hoped that wasn’t a bad omen. He didn’t care to deal with the hassle of booking a room somewhere else.
Time would tell. He had a two-hour drive ahead of him, so he put the pedal down and soon the miles went flying by.
At one o’clock, Markus stopped for a light lunch. His GPS showed he only had about thirty miles to go. After finishing off the last of his fries, he headed back out. The last leg of his journey was slower: not only was the road reduced to two-lane traffic, it was a winding mess through the mountain range with some pretty sharp turns and inclines.
Finally, he found what he was looking for—a weather-beaten sign that read Tipton’s Chalet with an arrow pointing to the right. Driving another fifteen minutes on a narrow gravel road, he came to a bend and was greeted with a magnificent view. Giving a low whistle, he admired the sight of the three-story log cabin lodge with the towering Mt. Rainier in the background. He grinned.
After he shut the engine off, Markus tapped his thumb on the wheel. The lodge appeared to be abandoned. There wasn’t another car in sight, so he could only hope that the owners parked out back or something. Grabbing his suitcase, he locked the door and pocketed the keys.
A small walking bridge that led to the entrance crossed a delightful stream below. Markus thought Dr. Peering would approve, as there were surely some fish swimming in its depths.
When he reached the main door, Markus gave a firm rap with his knuckles. No answer. Muttering a curse, he tried again, only to have the door open slightly with a decided creak. He snorted. It was the stuff of scary movies, but since he wasn’t superstitious, he pushed open the door, walked inside, and called out to the empty space, “Hello?”
The cavernous foyer had a large round table with a vase of flowers that were likely fake. To the right was a spacious dining area with a row of windows facing the mountains. To the left of the foyer, a comfortable sitting area beckoned invitingly around a large, stone fireplace. Tall ceilings and a massive staircase led up to a long hallway with doors on either side, but otherwise, there was nothing but silence all around him.
He wanted isolation, but damn, this was ridiculous.
What kind of game were these people playing? This was the last time he trusted an e-mail confirmation for anything.
A movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to spin around, prepared to give whoever it was a mighty piece of his mind. Instead, he stumbled back a step. Instantly, flashes of memory descended upon him. It was the woman from his visions.
> “It’s you.”
~~ * * * ~~
Laura tilted her head at the handsome stranger. She hadn’t expected anyone to be here. She had returned to this place to say goodbye, to make her peace, but here stood a rather attractive man who looked at her as if he’d seen a ghost.
Her lips quirked. Her earlier sadness suddenly dissipated with his arrival. “What are you doing here?” she asked curiously.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. Finally, he managed to say, “I made a reservation.”
She laughed. “That’s impossible.”
He frowned, and she felt his annoyance. Fishing into his jacket pocket, he found a piece of paper and held it out to her. “Not really. See for yourself.”
As she reached out to take it, their fingers brushed together, and she jerked back at the shocking current of electricity that passed between them. Laura knew he’d felt it too. He let go of the paper so abruptly, it fluttered to the floor between them.
He seemed frozen, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. His green eyes were glued to her face, and Laura was glad that all her scars had disappeared, leaving behind a healthy, warm glow.
“Can I kiss you?”
Laura gasped, stunned that a man she had literally just met would be so bold. And yet, something compelled her to say, “Yes.”
Moonlight, Monsters & Magic Page 3
