Fate's Match

by Elysabeth Grace

  “Surrender and he will live,” Asael said. “Continue to fight and he will become one of the living dead.”

  Amina shivered. If she could get to Drake . . .

  Now is not the time for your recklessness, Amina. Do what you must. I will handle this demon.

  She started to shake her head when a wall of pale silver flames surged between Drake and Tadiel.

  Siya.

  Amina cut the link between her and Drake. She regarded Asael with cynical amusement. “I think not, demon.”

  His forehead became pinched and he opened his mouth to speak. Amina chose that moment to attack. Asael was caught off guard, struggling to defend himself each time her sword crisscrossed the space between them. Amina’s swordplay was agile and quick, making it difficult for Asael to disarm her. The edge of her blade sliced across his arm.

  “Is that the best you can do, Asael? I’m a woman, weak and foolish, so you should have no difficulty capturing me.”

  Asael didn’t reply, which didn’t surprise Amina. Instead he feinted to the left and swung back. She easily blocked and returned his blow. “So predictable, Asael.”

  She took a step back, a sly grin on her face when his eyes signaled his confusion. Less than a second passed before understanding dawned in the black orbs. Asael’s mouth gaped as if he would speak. Instead, thick dark blood poured from the open wound at his throat.

  Her blade hissed angrily when it moved through the air a second time. “Demons never learn to expect the unexpected.”

  Asael’s head toppled from his shoulders, his blood splattering her trousers. She wasted no time drawing her dagger and plunging it deep into his chest. His body fell against hers and she found herself flat on her back, the demon’s weight trapping her on the deck. Amina twisted the knife and the heaviness lessened until she was covered in desiccated flesh. With a disgusted grunt, she pulled herself upright.

  Demonic dust pooled in small mounds at her feet. She leaned over and picked up the demon’s sword and felt the slow fade of Asael’s power. When the sword fractured in her hand, she smiled. Mephistopheles knew his minion was dead and by her hand.

  Amina flung the broken metal into the sea and her gaze went to Drake. He was twisting his knife in Tadiel’s chest, the demon’s limbs violently twitching as the silver blade consumed his essence. Assured Tadiel was dead, Drake angrily kicked the remains of the demon before crossing to where she stood.

  Her life mate’s emerald eyes methodically scanned her entire body, narrowing when he saw the claw marks on her face and the torn right sleeve of her shirt, blood turning the cloth black. When his gaze lifted to meet hers, she cringed.

  “I had no time to heal the wounds.”

  “Then do it now.”

  Amina’s head snapped up at his tone.

  “Please heal yourself, Amina.”

  The sarcasm in his voice didn’t escape her but she ignored it. “You are learning.”

  Under Drake’s watchful eyes, she quickly healed the scratches and cuts. Before he could protest, she tended to his wounds. “We may not be done.”

  Drake nodded before he left to see about his men.

  “What will you do without Asael to keep your sword arm fit, Mina?”

  Asiya shifted into existence and Amina whipped about, a smile on her lips, as her twin approached. “There is still his master.”

  “Drake is quite annoyed with you.”

  Before Amina could reply, he came up to her. “Go to my cabin, Amina. I need to see to my ship before we talk about your idiocy.”

  She whirled to face him, her knife clenched in her hand. Asiya’s hand touched her sister's wrist in silent warning before she looked at Drake.

  “Do not let your men touch demon blood, Captain,” Asiya warned. “Even the smallest trace can bind a human to Mephistopheles. Perhaps it would be best if Mina and I cleanse the deck while you see to your men.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  Drake’s hand flicked through the air and the powdered remains of demons and the undead coalesced into a tight ball, floated over the railing, and sank deep into the ocean.

  His gaze on Amina, he said two words. “My. Cabin.”

  Her retort died on her tongue as Asiya's fingers dug painfully into her wrist and her twin jerked her in the direction of the cabin. Amina glowered as she stormed past him. “We are not in accord, Captain Drake. You may want to bed with your men this night.”

  10

  London, England

  * * *

  Amina sat on the cushioned window seat, her knees tucked under her chin. She stared through the paned glass. Her mood was as dismal as the wet gray skies. An inhospitable and crowded place, Drake’s London left her chilled inside and out. She longed for the warm Sahara sands beneath her feet, the caress of the life giving sun in the predawn hours. She missed the freedom to roam as she willed instead of being caged by drab stone and wood buildings that denied the sun permission to kiss the earth.

  After two months in the English city, she still hadn’t found it to her liking. She learned that the white-skinned English were as cold-hearted as their beloved city. They treated anyone not like them as aliens, exotic and unwanted. She had come to despise the peculiar looks people gave her when she and Drake would venture out, the cruel jibes about the darkness of her skin. It didn’t matter that there were others who were native-born whose flesh was darker than hers. The brown of her skin marked her as alien and lacking.

  What grated most was being called a Moor. It was exhausting to explain that she was Tamahaq, not a Moor. The English didn’t care. If the land of your birth was what they called Africa, you were either a Moor or a Negro. She expelled a bitter laugh at the stupidity of the English. Did they not know that no Tamahaq, Moor, or Negro would ever confuse their nations?

  The crackle of burning wood drew her eyes to the smoldering logs. The room’s chill was eased by the fire in the hearth, yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave her perch. Instead, she leaned closer to the paned window and watched her warm breath create tendrils of moisture that raced each other down the glass. She reached out to capture one of the translucent pearls and squeeze it between her thumb and forefinger.

  Another bitter laugh made its way past her lips as she stared at the wetness on her fingertip. This was her life now, cloistered when she should be fighting demons, following the antics of drops of water, and waiting for Drake to return from another sea voyage. She stared past the window pane. As usual, shadows hovered over the house despite the dull brightness of the morning sun trying to compete with the city’s fog. Demonic visitations seemed to increase when Drake was away. It was as if the demon king knew exactly the day and hour Drake set sail.

  The thought of her life mate made her smile and her hand went to her belly, the slight bulge another worrisome game of waiting. She carried his son.

  When do you intend to tell him you are with child, Mina? I think you should do so before my nephew takes up the sword.

  Amina shrugged. “I don’t know if I will, Siya. Maybe I’ll flee this cold place and return to the Sahara. The Tamahaq’s child should be born to the kiss of the sun, should be greeted by her people.”

  The truculent note in her voice made her cringe and irritation flared inside her. When did she stop being a warrior and become a moonstruck creature waiting for her lover to return?

  A speckled brown sparrow tapped its beak against the windowpane, and she reached over to open the casement. The bird flew into the room and Amina closed the window behind her. She watched with familiar intrigue as her twin shifted, marveling at the subtle changes that took place to return her twin to her natural state.

  Asiya smiled at her sister and seated herself next to Amina. She peered at Amina’s stomach and then gently stroked it. Amina’s purr-like sounds filled the room.

  “Do you think you can hide your growing belly from Drake when he returns? For an Englishman, he is rather shrewd.”

  “My child will be another weapo
n he’ll use against me. To force me to obey his outrageous demands.”

  “Do you mean his insistence that you not seek out every demon in London? That outrageous demand?” Asiya chuckled at her sister’s petulant expression. “Drake only wants to keep you safe.”

  “I can protect myself and my child.”

  “Only a fool would utter such nonsense. The undead have gathered in London since Drake took this house. Where once there were only two or three, a half dozen gather round to do Mephistopheles’ bidding. You are at greater risk now, Mina. The demon king hasn’t given up. He still intends to make you his queen. Will you give Satan the gifts Drake’s son carries?”

  “Unfair, sister.” Amina shut her eyes. “Drake doesn’t love me. There is desire and possession, but not love in his heart. I satisfy his lust and nothing more.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted, Mina? To not be trapped by love? You shouldn’t blame Drake for the rules you created. You need to admit what is in your heart. Give him the love I see there.”

  “I can’t, Siya.”

  Asiya rose abruptly and loomed over her sister. “When will you accept that we are not our mother, and our men are not our father? What Daoud did to the Tamahaq, to our people, had nothing to do with love. Nothing whatsoever. He was djinn-possessed.”

  “I don’t care,” Amina retorted. “Daoud was a king and should have been stronger. He should have loved our mother enough to protect her, not destroy her.”

  Asiya shook her head before she reached behind her twin and opened the window. She shifted and a small kestrel hopped to the casement ledge.

  “You cannot change the past, Mina. Stop living it, and for your son’s sake embrace his father. Give your heart to your life mate.”

  Amina’s eyes teared as she watched her sister’s swift flight over a rooftop until she disappeared from view. Pulling the window shut, Amina abandoned her perch, her bare feet noiseless as she walked to the hearth. The wood floor was soothing to her skin. A doleful smile kissed her lips. Drake would fuss about her refusal to wear slippers.

  Her sister was right. She did love him with all her heart. So why did her throat constrict and her heart race at the thought of telling him so? Why was it so hard to let go of the past and give Drake her heart? Why couldn’t she just let go of her fears?

  Because you refuse to let him see all of you, all the broken pieces that cannot be mended.

  Amina had always been honest with herself. She understood giving Drake her heart also meant letting him see the ravages done to her soul, why she chose the path she did. To admit her love for him meant she was as weak as her mother had been. For years, she’d refused to open the gates of her personal hell. Refused to relive the nightmare haunting her since childhood, a horror that kept her locked in a world of hate. A life filled with rage born of guilt, accepting that she deserved to live a life without love.

  It was the only way to expiate her sin.

  * * *

  Memory propelled her back to the day her life changed forever. She had led her father to her mother’s sanctuary, brought him to the oasis where the people gathered. Determined to witness her father’s joy, Amina slipped into her mother’s thoughts.

  No one heard her childish cry when Daoud entered Saria’s tent, hurling insults at her mother before his hand struck the first blow that sent her reeling to the earth. Amina’s mind and body flinched when Daoud’s booted foot slammed into her mother’s ribcage. Her eight-year-old mind witnessed the breaking of fragile bones, her mother’s agony a tortured echo in Amina’s thoughts.

  She want to flee the horror but couldn’t bear to leave her mother alone, not even when Saria sensed her presence.

  Mina, you should not be here. He will kill you.

  I will stay with you until the end. It is my fault he is here, Tamahaq.

  You are too young to know death in this way, daughter. It hurts my heart for you to witness the Tamahaq’s shame and weakness. Leave and comfort your sister when she learns I am dead.

  Siya sleeps.

  Did you aid her?

  She is not strong enough so I helped. Her heart is far too gentle.

  She is your twin and will witness my death in your memories. Go, Amina.

  I will protect my sister from this, Tamahaq. She will know our father took your life, but she will not see how you died.

  Her mother’s pain flayed Amina’s soul each time Daoud had dragged his dagger across Saria’s smooth brown breasts. Intricate symbols he etched onto her skin ignited and burned themselves into Saria’s bones.

  Amina squeezed her eyelids tight, fighting the tears that came with the memory. She had remained inside her mother’s mind, refusing to let her die alone. Her childish voice alone sang her mother to her ancestress Lilith. Amina’s guilty eyes the only ones shedding tears for the dying Tamahaq.

  The moment Daoud’s scimitar descended to severe Saria’s head from her neck, Amina was catapulted from her dying mother’s mind and into her father’s.

  She watched her mother’s blood drench the carpet of their tent, her father’s maniacal laughter grating her nerves as he held Saria’s severed head aloft. From the crevice where she hid, Amina smelled the acrid stench of charred flesh, tainted by a sickly sweet odor of sulfur and cinnamon. The smell embedded itself in her senses. Only later had she learned it belonged to the demon who controlled Daoud.

  Amina crawled from her hiding place to watch the father she worshipped ride away, leaving his twin daughters to die. By the time Daoud disappeared into the desert, her eight-year-old eyes were tearless.

  She entered her mother’s tent. Despite the moments spent in her mother’s awareness, nothing prepared Amina for the horror her father left in his wake. Her body reacted, her sickness unrestrained. How could Daoud commit such a heinous act? He had sworn eternal love for Saria, his queen.

  A gentle hand touched her shoulder and, dagger drawn, Amina turned to face the threat. She lowered her knife. The hand belonged to her mother’s cousin, Mariam. Under Mariam’s watchful gaze, she gathered garments for her and her sister, bundled up Saria’s dagger and jewelry in a piece of linen. Turning her back on her mother’s lifeless body, Amina saw that Mariam had created a small pile in the center of the tent. The woman handed her a burning oil lamp and left the tent.

  Amina stared at her mother’s body. Sorrow moved her lips in a prayer for forgiveness and she tossed the lamp onto the pile. The fire ignited, its flames licking out to devour her mother’s body before spreading across the thick rugs to consume the tent walls. Turning her back on her mother’s funeral pyre, she made a solemn oath and walked out of the tent.

  A silent Mariam followed her to where Asiya slept. Gently waking her sister, Amina grasped Asiya’s hand and, without a glance back at the burning tent, the last of the Kel Ahaggar Tamahaq abandoned the devastated oasis.

  Amina untangled herself from the bed covers and rose from the bed. She had dreamt of her mother, which was puzzling. For several days her mother’s death had troubled her thoughts. She shivered, worried the dream foreshadowed an unspeakable evil. Afraid to examine the thought too closely, she brushed aside her worry and watched sunlight slip into the bedchamber.

  Her arms wrapped around her waist and she stared at the side of the bed where Drake usually slept. He’d sailed for Plymouth a fortnight ago and she missed him. When he was away from London, she felt more unease than ever. The demons were more active, noisy in their efforts to entice her from the house. When Mephistopheles’ creatures abandoned their tricks, the quiet fed her worries. She needed Drake’s arrogance to put them to rest.

  Her hand slid across her belly. Once she revealed her pregnancy to him, there would be a battle as he pushed to curtail her even more. She would have to use her knife to remind him that he was not her master. The thought brought a smile to her lips. The last time she had drawn it, she had sliced each button from his shirt, telling him the next time it would be his beard and hair.

  He had laughed, swept her up in
his arms and carried her to his bed.

  The memory of her thoroughly sated body after a long night of lovemaking caused an explosion of desire inside her. She blew out an exasperated breath. How had she come to love a man who would never love her, whose heart belonged to a dead woman?

  A dead Englishwoman.

  Amina sighed. She discovered the miniature portrait of Caroline in the small chest he kept beside the bed. A shudder went through her as she recalled Drake’s anger that day, and her own jealousy. Her demands for an explanation had driven him from the house. She had been relieved he hadn’t been there to see her tears.

  Drake returned the next day. When she stared into his green eyes it chilled her soul. His voice emotionless, he tore her heart to shreds as he talked about Caroline Hart, the woman he’d loved since childhood. The day they were to wed, a demon had taken her life.

  He had not been allowed to mourn Caroline’s death. Less than a fortnight after she’d been buried, his father betrothed him to Catherine Temple, the daughter of a local merchant. The day of their marriage, Catherine boasted she was with child by her lover.

  An hour after the ceremony, Drake left Plymouth to join his kinsman’s campaign against Spain. His refusal to return to Plymouth angered his father and older brother. Not even his father’s threat to disown him was not enough to persuade Drake to return. Two months after he left Plymouth, Catherine’s child died in the womb.

  Marriage, he had told Amina that day, no longer had a place in his life. The only wife he would embrace was the sea.

  Amina’s fingers grazed the silk surface of the bed cover. “I wish I could hate you, dragon.”

  “Why, hawk?”

  Amina turned toward the doorway. Drake stood on the threshold just inside the room, his hand closing the door behind him. His scent tasted heavenly on her tongue. A singular mixture of spice, sandalwood, and the sea. Saria forgive her, but she missed him.

  Mina, he is your mate and has your heart. You must tell him about his son and your feelings for him. You must trust your mate.