“These are great pictures!” Devon couldn’t stop clicking.
Kibo threw the Jeep into gear and hit the gas. “We go, miz!”
“No. Wait!” The jolt knocked Devon back into the seat as the Jeep turned and raced in the opposite direction.
The male lion came to a halt and roared with his mouth wide as they sped away.
Devon missed out on that picture. Disappointment gripped her. “Did we really have to go at that moment? One more second would have been enough. Maybe you could have honked the horn?”
“Miz not know what’s good for her.”
She fastened her seat belt to keep from being thrown from the crazily bouncing Jeep. “I knew you’d say that. You sound like my mother.”
Kibo smiled for the first time, and his face lit like sunshine.
The ride back to camp was stunning. The sky turned a brilliant shade of orange before fading to a moody purple. She clicked pictures of everything along the way, thinking this was the most beautiful day possible.
Long before she was ready to stop taking pictures, dusk settled over the veld and they arrived at the camp. She unloaded her luggage and located her private hut. The little village of people turned out to greet her. Several interested children followed closely as she entered her lantern-lit hut, which contained little more than a raised cot with an inflatable mattress, a folding table and an enamel chamber pot.
Devon settled into her hut. The locals were very welcoming. They immediately knocked on her door, offering tea, fruit, and fried yams, and appeared eager to talk with the American lady.
Not wanting to be rude, she sat by a communal fire in the center of the huts, answering as many questions as she could. The children burst into fits of giggles every time she spoke. They seemed to find all her answers hilarious, which she thought was a refreshing perspective on her life.
One shy girl of six or seven leaned from behind another larger child and whispered, “Miz have children?”
She’d love some children, especially if they were as charming as this bunch. “No children. Not yet.”
“Not yet?” The older girl looked surprised. “But you’re old.”
“I’m not old,” Devon said defensively.
The girl shrugged and looked bashful. “I meant old enough.”
“I wanted to travel and have a little adventure before I settle down. I’ll bet you do too.”
Another fit of giggles racked the children.
Devon reached for her camera. “May I take everyone’s picture?” She glanced toward a group of mothers busy preparing large kettles of tea suspended over a fire. They nodded in agreement.
The way the women folded and wore their beautifully woven clothing fascinated her. The bonfire warmly lit the children’s laughing faces, and made for joyful photographs. She wanted to remember every detail about them.
Many not-so-thinly veiled attempts were made by the women to inquire about personal matters, such as Devon’s marital status. The children asked about children, but the women asked only about the absence of a man.
A persistent woman named Benia asked, “Where is your husband?”
“No husband.” Devon shrugged.
Benia’s round face gleamed by firelight. “Miz have a gentleman?”
She spoke slowly. “No gentleman in my life.”
Benia beamed. “Maybe your husband will meet you here later?”
“No.” She shook her head. Why couldn’t she convince Benia that there was no Mr. Devon? “It’s just me.”
She tried to distract them by taking everyone’s portrait, one at a time beside the fire. Soon, Devon felt the full weight of the last week’s rush to prepare for the trip catching up with her. Her jaw ached from holding back yawns. She longed to lie down and fall asleep.
Benia seemed especially concerned about Devon’s stability and welfare, and rephrased her long-ignored question about the possibility of a husband at home. “How many husbands you have back home, miz?”
This again? It was like having a six-year-old in the back seat chiming, Are we there yet? Benia just wouldn’t give it a rest. “No husbands. None,” Devon answered firmly.
The woman looked scandalized. “That’s too bad. Why are you waiting? No good men in America?”
Devon laughed. “I’m not ready. I’m only thirty-two.”
Benia balked as if she finally realized it was a lost cause. “You wait too long, miz.”
Devon rolled her eyes. “God, you sound just like my mother. Is this why they call it Mother Africa?”
Several other women around the campfire politely covered their mouths and laughed.
The one thing she didn’t want to be was offensive and piss the ladies off. They were her hosts and extended family for the next ten days, and she was determined to go with the flow. “I’m sorry. I’m so tired. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
A wizened old woman, who looked like an actual living relic from the Victorian age, laughed and tapped her fingertip against the side of her nose. “You’re right, miz,” she insisted. “Benia is very nosy.” She pointed a bony finger at Benia. “She asks too many questions. You’re our guest. You don’t have to explain your personal life to us. You should have told Benia to mind her own business an hour ago. We were all wondering when you were going to put your foot down with her. By the way, she’s had five husbands and she’s looking for number six.”
Everyone but Benia burst into gales of laughter.
Okay. Devon tensed. Camp humor was silent and stealthy. She had the horrible feeling everyone but she was in on maybe an even bigger joke. They were probably trying to find out if she was a snob or a whiner. She realized she had better watch herself with this crafty crowd. They were way more sophisticated than she had given them credit for.
Devon laughed along with the group, but her laughter ended with a yawn. “Thank you for making me feel so welcome. I’m very happy to be here, but I’m going to have to say good night.”
Everyone waved and wished her peaceful sleep.
Gathering her camera gear, she stood and walked toward her hut. Thankfully, they’d given her a private hut on the outskirts of their community, but she didn’t feel like an outcast. She felt lucky. The trip had already provided more than she’d hoped for.
Devon put her hand in her pocket. Her fingers wrapped around the wish stone. Thoughts of what Witch Casey had said filled her mind.
Return the stone to nature and you’ll find the love of your dreams.
She’d already found two promising men. What if she returned the stone to nature and a new man entered her life; would fate step in and decide neither Beau nor Jace was meant for her? That was a depressing prospect. She couldn’t think of a single man who could possibly outshine Jace and Beau combined. The thought of choosing between two such different men was too difficult and just plain sad.
She caressed the stone. Should she bury it while on her trip, or keep it as a good-luck charm? Arcona seemed to believe in the wish stones. During every call—and there had been several over the past week—Arcona had reminded her to guard her damn wish stone with her life, but offered no further explanation beyond that. She’d hinted that her new road trip companion, Tyr, was the man she’d always been looking for. Their relationship had started with the speed and thunder of a rocket launch. On the brief but frequent phone calls from the road, Arcona couldn’t seem to say enough good things about Tyr in a single breath. Her enthusiasm was borderline bragging. According to Arcona, Tyr was some sort of bronze god from another age.
Yeah. Right.
Of course she was happy for Arcona, and she wanted to trust that she’d find her true love too, but maybe old Benia was right and it was too late for her.
Devon removed the stone from her pocket and held it gently. “Do you have something you want to tell me?” She pressed a light kiss to the stone. “I hope so.” The stone warmed. Thrilling sensations coursed across the cushioned surface of her lips and left her breathless. Shocked by her intense res
ponse, she removed the stone from her lips. The sensation of heat left her body as quickly as it entered. How strange was that.
To test the phenomenon, she pressed the smooth surface to her lips again, and again, and each time a luscious heat akin to licking cinnamon candies returned. “What the hell is going on?”
She studied the stone, trying to see if there was something that might cause such a reaction. Daring to experiment, she thought of Jace and Beau and gave the stone a gentle kiss. The warmth returned. Her body tingled. Distinctly sexual feelings escalated. An intense ripple of ecstasy that almost ended in climax spread through her and left her face flushed.
Wow, where did that come from? The fantasy, daydream, or whatever she called it was even more powerful than the ones she’d experienced on the plane. Being so aroused by a stone was a tad disturbing.
Exhausted and overwhelmed, Devon fell onto the bed clutching the stone. The air mattress swooshed beneath her on impact. She stretched the length of the campers’ cot, which was more comfortable than expected. Turning the stone over and over in her hands, she stared in awe.
How long had it been since she’d actually experienced soul-satisfying sex with someone she could whisper I love you to afterward and mean it? Her last real boyfriend had been over two years ago. Since then there had only been a few dates that went nowhere, and even those were few and far between. Why was she single? She was an attractive, intelligent, and professional woman. And why was she fixated on coworkers she shouldn’t be dating anyway, or waiting for a magical wish stone to deliver new lovers into her life? How pathetic was that? She tossed the stone aside. It plunked softly between her camera case and luggage. I need to get a grip on reality. It’s just all the emotions of the trip catching up with me.
Rolling onto her side, she settled down for the night and plumped the pillow. She reached toward the lantern to turn it out and found the stone sitting next to her on a tiny folding tray that served as a nightstand. Disbelief gripped her; she had to look twice. She’d just tossed the stone across the hut. There was no possible way it could be lying next to her. With the intention of throwing it farther, she picked it up again, but when it made contact with her palm, it singed her like a burst of static shock and made her hand sting. “Ouch!”
She tried to drop the stone but it clung. An intense tingle burned her skin. With her other hand, she removed the stone. The searing sensation immediately subsided, but her skin felt as if it had been scorched. She held her hand toward the lantern’s glow to inspect it and gasped.
A clear marking of intertwining dragons had appeared on her skin. The faint, toasty-brown outline grew darker as she continued staring at her hand as if she’d been tattooed or branded. “What the f—”
Hoping to rinse it away, she trickled a bit of bottled water onto the mark. The color of the mark deepened, and an eerily familiar serpentine outline took shape. Could this be real? She’d seen these dragons before. It looked exactly like the odd two-faced mask at Witch Casey’s shop.
Marduko dragons.
Devon put the stone in her pocket and tried to rub the marking from her hand, thinking perhaps it was just the day’s grime playing a trick on her tired mind. Please, no more trips to fantasyland. We’re done for the night.
She licked her thumb and rubbed her damp palm hard, but the marking didn’t budge. It only continued to become darker and more detailed, like an intricate henna tattoo. The dragons’ snouts touched, their wings were spread wide, and their tails tangled together. Double dragons kissing in the shape of a heart? “Am I losing my mind?”
For a moment, she longed to be back in Salem so she could ask Witch Casey why this was happening to her. Was the stone cursed? The last thing she wanted was this marking on her palm to last. It looked like a tattoo or branding. What if it didn’t rub off? How was she going to explain it to her coworkers or her mother? God, that could be awkward. Hi, Mom, Happy Thanksgiving. Look at this. My palm has been branded. No, I don’t know how it happened. I hope you made the apple pecan yams I love.
She stared at the dragons. They were matched twins. The only difference was one had sleek wings and a slender tail, and the other was more robust, with formidable dark scales and a spiked crest.
Devon traced her fingertip over the marking. It wasn’t raised. The mark was cool to the touch, and the tingling had ceased. It was baffling how the stone had created such an intricate picture on her palm like some sort of magic trick. In the days since she’d pulled the stone from the wish bag, she’d held it numerous times. Never had it brought an arousal of this intensity, and it had certainly never singed her hand. What had changed?
“It’s time to bury this thing.” Tomorrow, when the first full day of her adventure began, she’d return the stone to nature as Witch Casey had insisted.
Tonight, she’d just have to do her best to relax and get some sleep.
5
Devon woke with a start to the grinding sound of a Jeep’s engine turning over. A hint of sunlight filtered through the thatch roof and a crack in the door. Children played and squealed nearby.
The camp was wide-awake even if she wasn’t.
She stretched her aching body. Sleeping on an inflatable bed could grow old fast. Reaching for her clothes, she slipped her hand into her pocket to reassure herself the stone was still there. It was.
Even if she gave the stone to nature, she’d have a little souvenir to keep. The dragon marking on her palm was still there, dark as coffee by the light of day. It wouldn’t smear or be washed away even with soap and water, which made the mark feel somewhat defiant or possessive, as if the dragons’ claim would not be ignored.
Heat from the sun filled the hut. Reaching for her bag, she pulled out a water bottle and chugged half before taking a break. Today she’d need a Jeep and someone who knew the lay of the land. She wanted to explore freely. The day’s goal was to capture stunning photos and return the stone to the foothills of Kilimanjaro. She’d have to find a way to get Kibo to cooperate with her plans and not the other way around.
“Hello,” a woman called from outside.
“Hi,” Devon returned.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes, I’ll be out shortly.”
“I have fresh water and a cloth for washing. I’ll leave it outside the door for when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” Devon groaned, realizing she’d also miss the luxury of a nice hot shower. All the simple comforts she’d taken for granted were gone for the next ten days. When the woman didn’t speak another word, Devon got up and peeked out the door. No one was in sight. She grabbed the bowl of water and washcloth. It was time to get clean for the day.
The cool water felt good on her travel-weary skin. Airplane cabins were so drying. She changed into a set of fresh clothes, pulled her wavy hair back into a hair tie, and grabbed her canvas travel hat and backpack. At the last moment, she remembered to smear a swipe of sunblock across her face to keep her dusting of freckles from taking over her face. Clean and ready to go, Devon left the hut. The sun shone unrelentingly. She plopped the hat on her head. A hot, humid day on the veld was building.
A cluster of children ran around playfully while following their mothers, who gracefully balanced large bowls on their heads.
Needing to find a guide for the day, she hoped to spot a friendly person who might prove easier to dominate than the stalwart Kibo. Ambling along, she took in the sights and sounds of the village and its inhabitants, marveling that they could live so intimately with strangers in their midst. She shook her head. It must be weird.
Devon glanced around the village, trying to figure out which direction to go in. The village children spotted her and rushed toward her, squealing with excitement. Within moments, she was surrounded by a laughing mob. They all tried to hug her. Surprised but thrilled by their affection, she hugged them back. “Good morning.”
The children treated her like a loved one and a sense of joy took hold. It started in her stomach and worked its
way up to her heart. It was a very sweet greeting.
One of the little boys tugged on Devon’s pant leg. “Miz, your guide is waiting.” He pointed between the huts. “You sleep late. Guide angry.”
In the distance she spied Kibo sprawled across the driver side of the Jeep the way he had yesterday. He didn’t look angry. Today he had a small smile on his face. Did this mean he would treat her to less stern silence? She waved a friendly hello.
Kibo returned her gesture with a crisp wave.
She bent so she was eye level with the children. Some touched her ponytail. Others touched her face or her clothes. Devon rose and looked to where Kibo had been sitting in the Jeep moments earlier, but now he was missing. She turned in a circle, looking to see where he went, but he’d disappeared into thin air. Vanished.
Someone tapped on her shoulder, startling her. She spun around to find Kibo standing behind her. She didn’t know if she wanted to scream her frustrations or laugh at his sneakiness. How did he do that?
Kibo’s expression was flat. “We ride today, yes?”
Devon nodded. She longed to get moving. There was so much to see.
Kibo frowned. “We go now.”
Oh dear, another frolicking day of fun with Kibo. “I’m ready.”
Kibo turned on his heels and strode off.
Devon did her best to catch up to him. She dug into her back pocket and pulled out some currency. She had to give him something for his time and expertise and maybe a teensy-weeny tip up front would soften his stiff attitude?
Kibo waved the money away. “I do not need to be paid.” He walked toward the Jeep with a fast gait. His long legs covered ground in easy strides.
Okay, so a bribe wouldn’t work. Seriously, would it kill him to be the least bit accommodating? Devon wasn’t used to speed walking. She kept a healthy pace, but this was just too much. Luckily they’d be in the Jeep, because she didn’t think she could keep up with him. If, God forbid, they were on a walking safari, she’d end up lion fodder for sure.
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