by Vonna Harper
If she lived here, what would be important to her? The first thing to catch her attention was a large, manmade pond that reminded her of the one she’d used to satisfy her thirst earlier. Unlike the one she’d drank from, this one had stone sides and probably the bottom was stone as well. Even if she wasn’t involved in maintaining it, she’d be grateful for the steady water supply.
Half expecting to see domestic animals around the pond, she instead spotted what appeared to be prints left behind by small deer as well as hundreds of bird tracks. In addition, many birds were either in or around the water. She suspected she’d see frogs, lizards and other creatures if she came closer, but she didn’t want to disturb anything. Interesting. Although humans had built the reservoir for their own use, the area’s wildlife was making use of the gift.
She gave brief thought to studying the construction of the canal leading from the reservoir to the city, but lost it when she spotted several small buildings some distance to her left.
What she discovered was a farm. In addition to what she took to be the main house which had been constructed out of rock or stone, there were a couple of crudely-built open structures where foodstuff from the extensive garden was being stored. A woman and a boy were on their hands and knees in the garden, so intent on what they were doing that they didn’t notice her. She didn’t see anyone else about, but imagined a husband for the woman as well as several other children. She hoped the couple and their children weren’t the only ones working the farm, so she included either an extended family or workmen in her musings.
There, that’s what she’d want to be doing if she had lived back then. She’d farm, like her father. As intriguing and exciting as the city was, she’d much prefer to visit instead of live there. As a farmer, she’d be providing a vital service for her people and probably be held in high regard. Hmm. If there was a way to transport cows, sheep, horses and other livestock back in time, what a celebrity she’d be.
Bemused by the thought of becoming a celebrity, she was slow to realize that the woven fiber covering over the door to the main house was being pushed back. For an instant, she thought she’d see her father, but an elderly man followed by what appeared to be a teenage girl emerged. The girl walked a step behind the older man, her attention on the frail back, her hands out as if ready to steady him if need be. At the sight, tears dampened Dana’s lashes. Yes, that was right, a close-knit and loving family looking out for each other.
The man stopped and turned back toward the teenager. A moment later, their shared laughter drifted to Dana. Swiping idly at her tears, she realized she’d already fallen in love with the two. They made their way to one of the storage shelters, each picking up something. When the girl placed a cloth against her forehead and positioned the rest of it so it rested against her back and buttocks, Dana surmised that the girl intended to fill the sack with something from the garden. The girl helped the elderly man settle his storage bag onto his back, and they headed toward the woman and younger child, laughing occasionally.
More tears, more love for the farming family.
That was what the history books had missed. So much focus had been on the Aztec’s early military accomplishments, city building and brutal sacrifices that ordinary life had been shortchanged.
And she’d been as guilty as the historians, archeologists and anthropologists.
Dropping to her knees, she ran her hand over the dry, rocky ground. Obviously the farming family had known not to plant their garden here, but she still felt a kinship with the soil, which fortunately contained enough nourishment that a few weeds were growing. She plucked one and nibbled on it, surprised to discover it was sweet. Nourishment for her soul.
As for whether it could nourish her for her entire life—
Not sure what had distracted her, she looked around. Even though she was looking into the sun, she knew that once again Nacon had found her.
He’d put back on his single garment, probably in deference to whoever he might come across, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t remember what he looked like naked—and want both of them to be like that again. He’d been standing still when she’d spotted him and still hadn’t started walking again. Instead, he seemed content to remain where he was.
“I’m learning so much,” she told him, trusting the wind to carry her voice to him. “Opening up my knowledge and learning to appreciate what maybe you took for granted.”
“I will never take my home for granted, Dana.”
Yes, this was his home, his people, his land, his beliefs and practices. It should have been his entire existence, but then nothing was permanent.
The same held for her.
The gods controlled Nacon’s life. In contrast, her decisions had been placed in her hands.
Standing, she wiped her hands on her garment, her fingers trailing over her tattoo. “I’m trying to find my place here, to see if any part of me belongs.”
“Have you?”
A loaded question. “I’m not sure,” she hedged and dug her toes into the ground so she wouldn’t be tempted to walk over to him, yet. “I’m not going to push for an answer. I know it’s out there, but it has to come naturally.”
“Do you want me to leave you alone?”
No! “I’m not sure. It’s hard to think when we’re together. You keep distracting me, or should I say I allow you to distract me.”
“It’s the same for me.”
Maybe she should have asked for an explanation, but she didn’t want to hear that the rest of his life depended on having her in it. Just thinking about his destiny brought a thousand questions to the forefront, starting with why he and a few others hadn’t been allowed to die when everyone else did. Was it as simple and arrogant as the gods wanting what the Aztecs had stood for to continue to exist in some form, even if those who’d been sentenced to a half-life didn’t want the burden?
The gods, the damnable and all-powerful gods.
“I keep thinking about my mother,” she told him. “Wishing she knew where I was, although maybe she does. Loving my father the way she did, she learned to accept the incomprehensible. You want me to do the same thing, don’t you?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes you do! You didn’t have to come looking for me in the first place.”
“Didn’t I? Dana, the connection between us was forged when you were conceived.”
Because of who her father was. Because of the tattoos.
“Then I feel trapped.” Did she really?
Instead of allowing himself to be sucked into her disjointed thoughts, he bent down and picked up something. Then, walking slowly, he approached her. He moved with such grace that she again found a link between him and Aztec, a human being infused with animal instinct. Just like that, she was ready for him again, hungry, her nerves singing.
Unwise. Damn it, she would not be a slave to their bodies.
She stood on unsteady legs as he neared her, trying not to tell herself that she might need to run.
“A gift from my land,” he said, holding out his hand. He held a small, whitish stone that would have been unremarkable if the sun didn’t highlight an array of colors from pale pink to deepest red.
“What is it?”
“Opal. Opals are sacred to my people. They protect and enrich those who wear them.”
And he was giving her a sacred stone. Wondering if this was his way of saying he was letting her go, she held out her hand so he could drop the glittering gem into it.
Although she’d intended to look for a pocket to put it in, she wound up pressing it against her cheek. Was the sun responsible for the heat in it, or was something else at work? Maybe it was the gods she no longer denied or hated.
“I don’t know what I’m feeling or thinking,” she admitted. “I’ve made some hard decisions in my life, but nothing like this.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll accept it.”
What was that, more proof that he was letting her go? If so, she envied
him. If only her heart wasn’t so deeply involved. If only touching him wasn’t akin to touching lightning.
On the verge of dragging out the multitude of factors involved in such a momentous decision, she closed her mouth and concentrated on the small, warm weight in her hand. Today wasn’t about keeping or giving up her apartment, deciding whether she’d keep her word about doing something about the fate of modern jaguars, wondering what would happen to her credit rating if she didn’t continue her car payments. Maybe it wasn’t even about her mother.
Was she ready to commit to a man she’d known such a short time?
Stop it! Don’t think. Just experience.
Holding the opal between her fingers, she turned it in all directions. “I would have never spotted it, and that’s a shame. I noticed—so many of the Aztecs use gems and feathers to decorate their clothes. Why is that?”
“We’re vain, proud of what we’ve accomplished.”
“You have every right to be proud. When I look at the sophistication, the work that went into the housing, water collection, farming methods—my father was…is a farmer. I love that idea, my father working with the land. I used to run through professions in my mind trying to come up with what would satisfy him, but until now, nothing seemed right.”
“I’m a warrior, Dana. Does that seem right?”
“I’m not sure,” she whispered. “I wish you weren’t and not just because of the danger. It doesn’t seem right, a person having no say in their role in life. Maybe you would have rather been a farmer.”
“No.”
Of course he wouldn’t. He was a man who took pride in being responsible for his people’s safety, a man who faithfully and maybe blindly followed his gods’ dictates. Or had he? Wasn’t he a follower of Nezahualcoyotl and his son Nezahualpilli, two leaders who’d abhorred the practice of blood sacrifice?
“It’s a beautiful day.” She shook her head at her deliberate attempt to take the conversation in a safe direction. “Hot, but the breeze helps.”
“Dana?”
Don’t touch me. Right now, don’t touch me. “I know what you’re going to say, that you need me to make a decision.”
“No, that’s not what I was going to say. What I want you to hear is that I’m not going to push you.”
Before she could thank him, a harsh and distant sound distracted her. The initial sharp cry was repeated almost immediately, only this one was even louder and angrier. A chill ran up her spine. The sounds echoed, which made it impossible for her to determine where they were coming from, but Nacon was looking to his right so she did the same. The wilderness stretched out for maybe forever in that direction. With such sparse vegetation, she was surprised she didn’t see anything, but whoever or whatever was making the unearthly sound might be in one of the many small valleys.
After a short, tense silence, another cry shattered the quiet. This one was even more primal than the ones that had come before, leading her to imagine that it was coming from the earth’s belly. Before the hard howl could die, a sharper one rolled over it. Shuddering, she turned toward Nacon. She half-expected to see him look around for a weapon. Instead, he was nodding, a look of awe spreading over his features.
The guttural screams kept coming, all but shaking the air and silencing the birds. By the way they overlapped, she concluded that two creatures were responsible. And when her belly and thighs tensed and her cunt slid back to life in response to the cries, she had no doubt that they were sexual in nature.
Animals mating?
“Aztec,” Nacon said from where he stood apart from her. “And his mate.”
“My god, I’ve never heard anything—it’s incredible.”
Although Nacon nodded, “incredible” seemed inadequate to describe something so elemental. She imagined the two jaguars tearing at each other. Their bodies might be joined in sex, but were they at the same time biting and clawing?
“He’s so much bigger than her.” She had to raise her voice to be heard. “What if he hurts her?”
“He won’t. This is how they declare themselves to each other and to warn every other animal, and humans, to leave them alone.”
Declaring themselves? More like a pair of wild and savage souls lost in the primitive act of fucking. Although Aztec and his mate deserved and wanted to be alone, she longed to watch them. She might lose her sanity, but it would be worth it. To abandon oneself to passion, to declare one’s sexuality to the world— “Have you heard that sound before?”
“Yes.”
Of course he had. After all, in his time and place jaguars weren’t an endangered species kept alive via cages and walls, but able to run free. The Aztecs didn’t just accept the jaguars’ savage mating rituals, they’d given the beautiful and deadly creatures the status of near gods.
“Join them,” Nacon said.
Thinking he was talking about trying to locate the jaguars, she gave him a horrified look. Instead of returning her stare, he looked toward where the unrelenting sounds were coming from. One hand covered his tattoo and he rubbed it, not as if it was causing him discomfort, but as if he wanted to communicate with it.
Suddenly aware of her own jaguar depiction, she pressed her palm over the heated and sensitive spot. Ah, pressing and rubbing took away some of what was more intensity than discomfort. At first she concentrated on keeping on top of the heat, but before long there was no denying that she was turned on. The mating jaguars were responsible for some of her reaction, of course, but not all. It was as if slender fingers were reaching out from the tattoo to touch every part of her body.
“What’s happening?”
“Connecting. Sharing.”
On the brink of asking him to explain further, she realized he wasn’t fully with her. His half-closed lids told her that he was losing himself in his body’s responses, sliding deep into sensation, becoming turned on himself.
Should she call a halt to this…whatever it was? Instead of allowing herself to be seduced by the fantasy of sharing what the jaguars were doing, should she return to the questions about her future?
But she didn’t want to. She wanted and needed to stroke the tattoo her heritage had created and watch Nacon do the same thing. She needed to look into his eyes, rejoice in his arousal.
Most of all, she needed to connect.
Yes, yes, her inner thighs warm and tingling, waves of heat spreading deep into her cunt, her nipples hardening and her spine so sensitive it was almost painful.
Barely aware of what she was doing, she closed the distance between her and Nacon. He held out his hand and she placed her free one in it, but kept the other over her thigh. “You feel—we’re…”
“Experience, Dana. Simply experience.”
Yes, she could do that. Eyes closed and swaying a little, she pulled his body heat into her fingers and from there up her arm and into her heart. Flicking fires now touched every part of her, and she swam in magic.
This wasn’t just sex. Instead, she was connecting with everything from the hard and dry earth to the mating jaguars. In addition she sensed the souls of the Aztecs. Powerful priests and babies whispered to her. Even the souls of those who’d been sacrificed reached out. She wished she understood what they were saying, but Nacon was too close, too real, too everything.
“Do you understand, my daughter? How powerful this place and time and people are? How powerful their hold on my heart?”
“Dad? You’re part of what I’m feeling, aren’t you? Did you—from the moment you saw my tattoo, did you know this would happen?”
“I hoped. And feared.”
Her father’s presence slipped away to leave her open to connect with Nacon again. With her eyes still closed, she withdrew her hand from her tattoo so she could press her hip against him. Instead of finding his hand, her hip made contact with his. Their tattoos were bleeding together, becoming one, sharing everything.
“Mom, Mom! Are you here? Do you know what’s happening, what I’m experiencing?”
&nbs
p; “I’m here, my darling.”
“I don’t want this to stop. I’m alive, more alive than I’ve ever been.”
“I know you are. Darling, I love you. I’ll always love you.”
“What are you saying?”
“That I’m letting you go. I pray I’ll see you again, but if that isn’t possible, you’ll always be in my heart just as I’ll live in yours. Embrace your heritage and listen to your soul. Do what brings you joy and peace.”
“But—”
“Don’t be the way I was, afraid. Live, live and love.”
Tears streamed from behind her closed lids, but she didn’t need to open them to know that only Nacon was beside her. Her mother had been right; their love for each other would sustain them no matter how many centuries separated them. And her father was nearby.
Turning to Nacon, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His went around her waist. They swayed together, found a rhythm punctuated by mating cries.
And when the jaguars had finished, Nacon lowered her to the ground and she welcomed him into her.
Only once they’d climaxed and were back in each other’s arms, resting, breathing as one, did she ask if he knew what their future would bring.
“We have today; that’s all anyone ever has.”
“My mother wants to see me again, and I want to see her. You—can you help make that happen? Visits?”
“I hope so, and if I can’t, your father will.”
“I don’t want to travel to what used to be my time without you.”
He kissed her temple. “I can’t stay long because I’ll stop aging while you—”
“What about when I’m in Aztec time? Will I grow old? My father said—”
“Time isn’t ours to control. The gods…”
“What?” she whispered.
“The gods wanted us to find each other and for you to embrace your Aztec heritage.”
“And because I’m Aztec, half Aztec, whatever happens to you here will happen to me, that’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?”
