by Vonna Harper
Half-breed. That’s what she was, a half-breed. “Why didn’t you say anything back when I drew the jaguar symbol? What was I, sixteen?”
“Cowardice. Honey, I’d already let too much time pass. I was afraid—I guess I was afraid you’d hate us for keeping so much from you.”
Didn’t he know she couldn’t possibly hate her parents? But if she’d been the one carrying the incomprehensible inside her, would she have been able to tell her own daughter the truth? Ask that daughter to bear a half-breed’s burden?
“It feels right here,” she told him. “I feel right here.”
“You do now, but what about what you left behind? Can you turn your back on that simply because Nacon’s body and yours burn for each other?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Find out, now.”
Chapter Sixteen
As far as she knew, her father was still sitting where she’d left him. Hopefully he was, because regardless of what happened between her and Nacon, she wasn’t done connecting with him. Not only did she suspect he’d remain in the past as long as she was there, she couldn’t get back to the present without help.
With her mind on everything she’d learned during that short but earthshaking conversation, she barely noted where she was walking. She trusted her legs to take her where she needed to go; nothing else mattered.
“Mom, how did you handle it? When you learned that the man you loved wasn’t what you’d thought he was, what was that like? You let him go, didn’t you? You could have tried to keep our family together, but you knew he’d be miserable trying to live the life that would have been expected of him. Because you loved him, you gave him his freedom. But there was me. I complicated everything.”
She half expected a reply, but when it didn’t come, she told herself it was because the years she’d spent with her mother made that unnecessary. How hard it had been for her parents knowing that their love for each other and their child wasn’t enough.
Was the same true for her and Nacon? Granted, they hadn’t known each other long enough for anything except several spectacular rolls in the hay, and thank goodness they didn’t have a child, but he’d entrusted her with the truth about himself. Even before the gods or fate or something had brought them together, she’d had herself marked with the same symbol he’d worn nearly all of his life.
She was half Aztec!
And half modern woman.
Her head throbbed, making it difficult to focus on her surroundings. Still, she had no trouble heading back toward the city thanks to the sounds and smells now that she’d made her decision to face Nacon again. Of course there were still a few details to be worked out before they were face to face, like what she was going to say and how she was going to get her voice box to work.
She’d covered nearly half of the distance when something drew her attention to an outcropping on the left that was far enough away that she couldn’t be sure whether the rocky hill had assumed the formation naturally or was manmade. Curious, she changed direction. From what she could tell, the outcropping’s elevation was high enough above the city that whoever was up there could keep an eye on much of what was going on below. Maybe guards were stationed there to make sure the Aztec’s enemies couldn’t sneak up on them.
I’m not the enemy. I don’t have a weapon on me. The last thing I represent is a threat.
No, that wasn’t it, she determined a few minutes later. Instead of guard stations—whatever those might look like—she was studying an opening so symmetrical that she had no doubt it had been carved into the hill. The opening wasn’t tall enough for a man to pass through it while standing erect, which made her wonder why they’d bothered. A fire pit surrounded by wooden seats was to the left of the opening. Her first thought was that this was a clubhouse.
A retreat? But for whom?
Drawn by curiosity and more, she approached. When she was maybe a hundred feet away, she noted that she wasn’t alone after all. Someone stood within the shadows cast by the rocky outcropping. Even before she was sure, her heartbeat increased. “Nacon?”
“Dana.”
Two simple words, each name spoken by the only person who could make them sing. With her hand over her throat, she closed the remaining distance and joined the warrior in the opening. Maybe she should be concerned with where she was, but that would have to come after she’d gotten used to being close to him again.
“Were you waiting for me?” she asked to keep from wrapping her body around his.
“Not just that. I’ve waited so long to stand here again.” He sounded on the brink of tears. “Dana, thank you for making that possible.”
His gratitude rang so true that she nearly cried herself. His tone and body language told her he didn’t ever want to leave the land and time of his birth. “Is it everything you’ve dreamed it would be?” she asked.
“And more. My heart is full.”
Damn the gods for depriving him of what he’d most needed in life for so long! Whatever the gods’ reasons, they made no more sense than their ceaseless demands for blood. “Do you want to be alone? I didn’t mean to—”
“Dana, I came here because I wanted privacy for us, if you wanted to see me again.”
“You weren’t sure?”
“I don’t have control over your thoughts or actions. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want that.”
So she was responsible for her actions and reactions, was she? Her decisions. Even as she contemplated the questions, she acknowledged that that was how it should be. “I saw my father. We talked, really talked. For the first time in my life, I understand him and why this is happening. I just wish he’d told me sooner.”
“Maybe he was trying to spare you from going through what he has all his life.”
So Nacon knew about her father, did he? Of course he did. After all, Nacon had had a thousand lifetimes in which to learn all there was about what it meant to be Aztec.
He was Aztec, an ancient warrior, a man who’d long hung suspended between past and present.
Everything she might have said about what she’d gone through since she’d last seen him flowed out of her. There was just the two of them in this secluded shelter, that and as much time as they needed to define their relationship. Everything else in life came later.
He’d stripped off the garment he’d been wearing when they finished the journey back to his time and faced her as she’d always seen him: naked. Wanting to join him in honesty, she rid herself of her strange-feeling clothes, but although her skin now beat with life, she stood apart from him.
Behind him, what had earlier appeared to be nothing more than a small opening opened to reveal a large, open space dotted with a dozen or so sleeping mats. Each sleeping area was different, some crowded with belongings while others were bare except for the handmade mattress and a woven blanket. The ceiling was maybe seven feet high in the sleeping area, but sloped down to the ground at the rear, making her wonder if those who stayed there ever felt claustrophobic. At least the space was easy to defend and the fire pit area obviously served as the meeting area.
“This is where the Jaguars come when we need to be alone, to plan and pray and replenish ourselves.”
“Replenish?”
“It is here we connect with our gods and each other, gathering courage from our beliefs.”
How simple, how complex. “Are women ever allowed here?”
“No.”
“Because they’re distracting?”
“Because they take us from our purpose.”
Which was to carry out the gods’ commands. She could have asked him what the members of the Jaguar Society did or talked about while they were here, how many questioned the gods’ more brutal demands, or why he’d allowed his presence to draw her within what was surely a sacred place for him. Instead, she ran her hands over her sides and down over her flanks, connecting with her body. She was still a separate human being. She hadn’t been absorbed into him. Neither did she no
longer crave her parents’ presence. Realizing that was reassuring, because she also knew she couldn’t exist in a vacuum.
Today might be the most important day of her life because the decisions she would make would impact her for as long as she lived. Her dear father’s decision had sentenced him to never belonging anywhere, but although she didn’t want that, maybe because she carried his blood, that was her fate as well.
“I, ah, about when I saw my father,. did you know he helped bring my mother back in time? Not that it saved their marriage. How hard it must have been for her to comprehend where the man she loved came from.”
“No harder than it’s been for you.”
She hadn’t told Nacon she loved him, for she hadn't asked herself the question. And yet the answer lay in her body’s response. Strange how she hadn’t noticed his scars before. She’d taken note of his tattoo, of course, but not the marks on his otherwise perfect form. Each one spoke of what it had meant to be a warrior and to put his people ahead of his own life. Modern people such as soldiers and policemen were expected to do the same thing, but they were rewarded financially and no one was truly forced into that role. Members of the Jaguar Society risked their lives simply because that’s what their gods and leaders demanded.
And that had been enough for Nacon.
Wanting to tap into that commitment so she might understand it, she reached out. Her fingers trailed over a thin line on his chest that looked as if it had been made by a knife blade. He shivered, but didn’t back away. Sliding a few inches closer, she pressed the heels of both hands over his pectoral muscles. Slow and firm, mining the sensation for everything she could, she mentally and emotionally went beyond his flesh to bone and internal organs. His heart was in there, no larger than any other man’s heart, its beat the same as countless others. But she wasn’t listening to other men’s hearts; she heard only his.
Up she worked, her fingers rolling over his shoulder blades and thinking about the strength of bone, the fragility of blood vessels, the lifestyle that had created the muscles roping his shoulders. He was man and animal, a creature of the earth and the gods he believed in, even the war god Huitzilopochtli who’d demanded his daily fortification of human hearts and blood. This primitive man had been drawn by something—her—into her time and place, but he didn’t belong there. Her father had resigned himself to spending vast amounts of time where he didn’t belong because of her, but she wouldn’t do that to Nacon. She couldn’t.
No thinking ahead. No courting heartbreak. Touch him, simply touch him and listen to your body sing.
“Are you real?” she whispered, leaning toward him so she could brush her breasts against his chest. Energy chased through her, heating her belly and pooling in her groin. “I think about you and I see this haze around you. It makes me wonder if you exist only in my mind.”
Rocking away, she concentrated on taking deep breaths. Much as she wanted to imprint him with her aching nipples, she willed herself to do nothing more than hold onto his shoulders. “Oh, I know you aren’t a figment of my imagination.” Unnerved by what she was going to say, she lowered her gaze. “For hours after we’ve had sex, my pussy retains the shape and feel of your cock. I think that’s because you’ve made such an impact on not just my body, but my mind as well. But—it’s still all so overwhelming to me.”
“I’m overwhelmed, too, Dana.”
Did he have to speak her name that way, and couldn’t he lift his head so his breath didn’t trail through her hair? But did she really want his impact lessened? Looking up, she ran her thumbs over the top of his shoulders.
“I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he continued. “When the gods brought me into your present and I woke from my sleep, I told myself it was because they wanted me to see the woman who had such a powerful hold on your father, but the moment I saw you, I knew that wasn’t the reason.”
“You did?” Her throbbing cunt’s demands were making it difficult to speak.
He nodded. “The gods wanted you and me to meet. To connect.”
“The gods?”
“Your father, others and I were drifters, sometimes coming in contact with each other, sometimes just knowing that another soul was around, sharing the same memories and wanting back the life we’d been denied.”
“Drifters. Slipping through the centuries you mean?”
His second nod sent sensation all the way to her breasts. “It was the gods’ wish.”
The gods! How dare they have such control over Nacon's and her father’s lives! And now over hers? “I can’t imagine what that’s like,” she said instead of revealing her true thoughts. “Except maybe it’s kind of like being homeless.”
“Sometimes. Dana, you and I have talked about this before.”
But not enough. Despite her protestation, however, she knew he was right in that now wasn’t the time. So be it, she acknowledged, because no matter how overwhelming everything was, she needed the answer to a vital question. Was he the man she needed to spend the rest of her life with or did the connection between them go no deeper than sex?
It started with sex. You have to begin there.
Feeling as if she’d just fallen into a stormy sea, she ran her hands down his arms, taking the time to learn the contours of his muscles, the feel of the hair on his shoulders, all the way to his hands, his broad wrist bones, and sharp elbows. They were a fighting man’s arms. He needed them in his time, but not in hers. If she begged him to live in her world and he agreed, he’d always be as much of a misfit as her father, but he risked being killed if he remained in history—or did he? Hadn’t he survived the atrocities Cortes and his men had inflicted on his people? But if the gods had pulled him out of his time before Cortes—
Too much! Too distracting.
Or maybe not distracting enough, she admitted when marching her fingers back up his arm caused her belly to clench. God but he was magnificent! Yes, he was sexy and sensual with the most potent cock she’d ever seen or felt, but that was only the first layer. He was also intelligent and compassionate, a man dedicated to the safety and well-being of others. His beliefs, although foreign to her, ran deep, and she respected him for that. He’d given no indication that he wanted her to change who and what she was. In short, he accepted her for what she was and on her own grounds.
Could she do the same? Could she not?
Too much!
Even as she tried to shake free of her thoughts and questions so their bodies could give out their separate messages and then merge into one, she acknowledged that she didn’t really want to become nothing more than an animal in heat.
Well, maybe for a little while. She wanted slow. She needed a journey. At the same time, she was a breath away from leaping at him, wrapping her legs around him, demanding he seal their bodies together.
He was strong and big enough to support her while they fucked standing up. Even if she pummeled him with all her strength, he’d clutch her to him while they rode the waves.
Waves, yes, an apt analogy she admitted as she let her hands fall from his arms. He curved his body toward hers in silent invitation. After counting to ten in a vain effort to quiet her pulse, she placed her hands on his hips.
He groaned. “What do you want from me?”
“You’ve already given it. I’m just trying to understand the message.”
His look plainly said she was speaking a language he’d never heard, but she’d said all she was capable of for now. Warning him with her eyes not to touch her, she sent a very different message through her fingers to him. He probably already knew it, but she needed him to understand how vulnerable he made her feel. A look, a whisper, anything from him and it was as if she’d stepped into a minefield made up of need, primal need.
And, despite all of the Aztec accomplishments, he was part of a primitive time.
As a teenager, she’d considered becoming a nurse and had worked as an aide in a rehabilitation center where she’d handled everything from older stroke victims t
o vibrant young people laid low by automobile or athletic accidents. She’d once worked with a boy she went to school with who had been a member of the varsity football team. Two years older than she, Brian had tried to combine alcohol with his father’s powerful SUV on a twisting mountain road and had lost the competition. With time and work, Brian would walk again, but he’d still been confined to his bed as his brain and body regained consciousness. She’d bathed and manipulated his muscles, fed him and several times wiped away his tears.
Before one long night when nothing stood between him and his fears, she’d been afraid that touching him all over might be more than either of them could handle, especially since she’d had a bit of a crush on him. But then his need for her help, understanding, and compassion had come to the forefront. Her emotions had disappeared beneath her determination to see him walk.
Nacon wasn’t Brian. She could never dismiss her response to Nacon, never silence the link between their bodies.
Shaking off memories of Brian, she sent her full attention to what her fingers were doing. As far as she knew, she hadn’t moved them since settling them over his hipbones. He was holding his breath, and his fingers were clenched, but he couldn’t possibly be afraid of her. Instead, like her, he was fighting the link while at the same time feeling the electricity, waiting to be burned.
I’m not going to hurt you, flitted through her mind, but of course he already knew that; at least he knew she wouldn’t intentionally cause him harm.
“I don’t have any self-control when I’m around you,” she admitted. “One look from you—hell, you don’t even have to look at me—and I want to fuck you.”
“I know.” He dropped his gaze to her still-resting hands.
“Did you also know that scares the hell out of me?”
He gave no indication he was shocked by her profanity. Neither did he react to her honesty, undoubtedly because he already understood.
“I’ve never felt like that. Even when I’ve been drinking and someone slides up against me, and the music is pounding through me, and sexual energy fills the room, I don’t lose control. I can keep the brakes on. But not around you.”
