When she was growing up, her parents had forbidden her from bothering the goddess. They often reminded her that it was not their place to question the actions of the gods. Their role as guardians was to protect and serve. And after her parents had been murdered, Carolina had her hands full keeping up with the ranch and defending against attacks. It seemed a good idea now to finally learn the truth, or as much of the truth with which Chica would willingly part.
Chica sighed, a sound that whispered over the breeze. “I was foolish. I heard of a golden chalice hidden deep in a cave near a subterranean river. Legend said that water drunk from the chalice would open doors to the past and the future. Can you imagine?”
“It would bring incredible power,” Carolina murmured.
“Yes, it would. I was determined to find it. You see, we had only been married a short time when it all began to fall apart. My brother Tlaloc, the rain god, urged me to escape to safety with him. I refused. I thought if I could learn of the future perhaps I could assist my new husband in some way. I searched until I discovered the cave and the chalice, exquisite in its artistry, so delicate in form. My hand actually trembled as I filled it with the clear, running water beneath the earth. And I drank.”
“Did it work? Did the doors of the past and future open to you?” Carolina held her breath as she waited.
Anguish crossed Chica’s features. “I saw my husband slain, his lifeless body pumping out blood. Above him, I saw myself standing with a dagger, his blood covering me as I smiled.” Her voice broke. “I cried out, threw the chalice and ran. I never looked back. I could not take the chance that I would be the instrument of my husband’s destruction. Eventually, I found your family. One of your ancestors bore my husband’s mark. I knew I could find protection and safety here. And so it has been until now. Scarce though it is, I listen to the murmurs of the water, which touches this land, and I hear things.”
“Hear what? I don’t understand. What does any of this have to do with my tattoo?”
“Throughout the ages, all of your family members have done their best to keep me safe, but none have borne the mark of the hummingbird other than that first ancestor and you. The tattoo is a beacon of light, a symbol that not only are you on the side of good, but that you have been chosen for a special role. Yet I fear evil forces are conspiring against us. The darkness is pressing in. I can feel the battle drawing nearer and should Itzpaplotl and her band of tzitzimime prevail, we are doomed. My husband and his shadow warriors are all that stand in defense of humanity. If my husband perishes, we are lost. I cannot take the chance that what I saw in the vision will come true. The shadow warrior must leave. He must never know that I am here on this land. You must do this for me, daughter.”
“I won’t let him take you and I will protect you from Billy. We will survive.”
The water rippled and cleared. Her water goddess no longer appeared visible. Carolina put a hand to her mouth to stifle the cry that wanted to escape. How long could she keep up the battle on her own? Day by day, the water dried up, weakening both her and her goddess.
She couldn’t let Chica be found. But how could she protect her?
She shook her head, refusing to give in to despair. Too much depended on Chica’s survival and on keeping her secret. Whatever it took, even at the cost of Carolina’s own life, she would not let the demon or Tomás rule the day.
Chapter Five
The blood trail crisscrossed the edge of Carolina’s property and then disappeared into the desert. Man and beast stared out across the horizon and contemplated the wisdom of giving chase. His wolf wanted to pursue. Tomás could feel the pressure from his animal spirit to follow the scent before it grew cold. Tomás pushed back, forcing his wolf to submit. To follow the demon would mean leaving Carolina unprotected.
His wolf snarled as if asking why this human was important, more important than staying on mission. Tomás scanned the desert brush, the dips and sandy mounds that made up the landscape, unwilling to lay out his need for this one woman—it was too new, too raw.
The predator within him remained vigilant, canine senses attuned to its surroundings. Tomás inhaled deeply, separating out the smells of the various desert creatures, searching for the one so evil that all would flee in his path. He had wounded the demon with his sword. He had sliced off the tzitzimime’s arm. Unless the demon returned to his god, he would be unable to regenerate his limb. Tomás wanted to believe the demon would drag his sorry ass back to the celestial hell from which it fell to lick his wounds, but Tomás’s gut said the demon was out there, waiting, watching and looking for an opening to attack. This demon had been chosen specifically because of his connection to Carolina. He’d wormed his way into her family and possibly her heart, and then attempted to destroy it all.
But why?
Tomás turned his head to take in the ranch house, yard and barn. What was it about this place that drew the demon? Was it Carolina or something else? Huitzilopochtli must already suspect something, otherwise why order Tomás to scout the area?
He felt torn and didn’t like the feeling.
He thought of the day Huitzilopochtli had gathered all the shadow warriors around him. They had suffered several losses within their ranks and had been disheartened. Ever since the fall of the Aztec Empire, not a single new soul had joined their ranks. Their numbers grew smaller, while the tzitzimime grew bolder. Making matters worse, each shadow warrior struggled with his animal spirit, aware that with each demon kill a piece of his humanity died with it. It was a never-ending vicious cycle for their immortality. They were obligated to fight to protect humanity, but the price they paid was high.
The Aztec sun god towered above them, blue paint streaking his face and body, eagle feathers in a headdress. Gold bands circled his arms, and around his neck he wore a necklace of turquoise and jade—a gift from his wife, the goddess of water. Even after she disappeared during the turmoil of the Aztec Empire’s destruction, Huitzilopochtli refused to remove it. In his right hand he carried a spear decorated with serpents and in his left a shield of feathers tipped in gold. On his shoulder perched a hummingbird.
The sun god’s voice boomed over the heads of the gathered warriors. He spoke of a chalice that had granted him a vision of the future. The battles ahead would grow more difficult and fierce and more warriors would perish, but they must continue for there was hope. Greater strength and power would be bestowed upon the shadow warriors if they could find their spirit mates, a woman whose spirit would bond with each warrior’s soul. Once the bond was complete, a warrior need never fear succumbing to his animal side.
Huitzilopochtli had disappeared before questions could be asked. The warriors had talked amongst themselves excitedly. For a while, they had had hope. Over time and with more death and destruction, hope had slowly seeped away.
Until now—until the moment he held Carolina in his arms and discovered his spirit mate.
He owed allegiance to his god. He owed his soul to Carolina.
Carolina carried the bucket to the well and gently poured the water back with a prayer of thanks. When she was done, she headed for her small ranch house.
Where was Tomás? She had to get him off her land. But how? She couldn’t exactly push him off—physically, the man was built like a mustang. She could try to coax him off, but she didn’t want to make him suspicious. Besides, every time she got close to the warrior she felt herself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. What was it about him that she couldn’t resist? He’d offered to stay and protect her. She’d turned him down, but it hadn’t seemed to make a difference. He was stubborn and hell-bent on killing the demon. Which made her wonder—was he here only because of the tzitzimime or had he somehow discovered that Chica was hidden on this land?
She walked forward, her eyes searching the darkened landscape for signs of trouble. Her tattoo flared hot with burning pain at the same time movement brought her head around sharply. A shadow detached itself from her toolshed.
Mouth
dry, Carolina watched Billy stalk towards her. The man—or what was left of him—swaggered forward, a twisted smile upon his once-angelic face. But she wasn’t fooled—his bloody stump of an arm made a gruesome reminder of their earlier encounter.
“Little Carolina. I see you remember me. I have that effect on women.” He let loose a cackle that sent chills down her spine.
“You disgust me.” She took a step back, careful to avoid his black gaze. Staring directly into a demon’s eyes gave them an opening into the soul. The thought of Billy touching her in any way sickened her.
“There once was a time you thought I was cute.”
“You used me. Tricked me and killed my parents.” She could feel the tears clogging in her throat. All the hatred and hurt bubbled up inside her chest. “I’ll see you burn in hell before you deceive me again.”
This time his laugh was sharp and bitter. He spat out venom as he shouted, “I am already in hell. Damn demons repaid me for my service by consuming my body. Now the only way to be human again is to give them what you denied them last time. Where is Chalchiuhtlicue, goddess of water? Tell me or die!”
In the moonlight, it was easy to see the sly twist to Billy’s lips. “You will kill me anyway, so you get nothing!”
He screeched in anger. Carolina reached for her power, gathering energy, waiting for the right moment.
“The water on your land will dry up, every single drop. You and your goddess will die a hideous death.” Spittle flew from Billy’s mouth. Red flames danced in his eyes. “Once your goddess is gone, my master will rule this world and I will be free.”
He opened his mouth wide and let loose a ball of flame at the same moment Carolina called up the element of water.
The two elements met halfway. The combination burst into steam. Billy screamed, a high-pitched sound that pierced Carolina’s ears, shattering her concentration. He lunged and knocked her to the ground. His foul, hot breath seared her while the claws of his only hand clasped her throat.
She would fight to the death.
She narrowed her eyes, focusing, and built up energy for one last gamble. Before she could release it, Billy flew off her.
She turned her head. The magnificent golden-eyed wolf, its fur shining silver in the moonlight, stood large and imposing between her and their enemy. The wolf snarled and bared its deadly white fangs at the demon. Without thought, she placed her hand on the wolf’s pelt and felt the hard, sinewy muscle below the surface. The animal turned its head ready to snap, but didn’t. Instead it backed up next to her and maintained its protective pose.
His wolf had scented the taint of evil that crept over the land. It had growled in fury, demanding to be let loose. Tomás had obliged, protecting Carolina uppermost in his mind.
Tomás went in low and fast, sinking his canines into the demon’s flesh. He ignored the creature’s foul odor and tainted blood as he clamped down hard, crushing bone. The monster yowled, an unearthly sound better suited to the bowels of celestial hell.
The demon struck one-handed with its claws, gouging Tomás’s side. His jaws remained firmly locked on the demon’s thigh. He used his massive weight to push the tzitzimime down to the ground.
Pain shot through his body. Claws continued to dig into his side. He could feel each pointed tip twisting and slicing his insides. His grip loosened. The momentary hesitation cost him.
The demon lifted his upper torso and bit down on Tomás’s neck.
Tomás arched his body, sharp, stabbing pain rocketing through him. The demon clamped down hard on the wolf’s neck while his claws continued to tear at his insides.
Water blasted out of the air and sprayed the creature directly in the face, knocking the demon flat on its back.
Tomás leapt away, blood from his wounds soaking his fur.
Sides heaving, he stared at the malevolent creature, waiting for another chance. From his peripheral vision, he saw Carolina standing, feet braced apart, her hands in the air.
The demon began twirling, faster and faster, kicking up sand and gravel. Tomás backed up, but sand and pebbles flew at him, hitting him in the face, the eyes, forcing him to retreat with his head down. He heard Carolina’s short cry. He tried to go to her, the protective urge strong, but the dust storm fought his every step.
Tomás stumbled and went down. The wind suddenly ceased. His eyes hurt from the grains of sand embedded in them, forcing him to use his sense of smell.
Amidst the desert odors floated the pure scent of sunshine and water, of Carolina.
“The tzitzimime is gone.” She spoke softly, but he could sense the tension in her voice. “We have to get you inside.”
His beast snarled in disagreement. His wolf wanted to chase after the demon. Tomás growled him down. They were injured and needed rest before tracking such a powerful opponent. His wolf subsided. Tomás forced himself up on four shaky legs. Badly injured, he limped. The battle had taken its toll and after only a few steps, he collapsed onto his side.
Her hands touched him and stroked his coat. Carolina’s melodious voice perked his ears. She chanted in the ancient language, and water sloshed over his wounds, washing away the poison.
Warmth spread through his body, bathing his wounds and his soul. His wolf retreated, bringing on the change. He lay there, the cold earth beneath him, his ribs aching, and stared up at the night sky.
Carolina blocked his vision, hovering above him, concern etched on her brow. “You can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. Let me help you.” She put her arm beneath his shoulder and assisted him to a sitting position. Her touch was light, like that of a bird poised for flight.
Tomás sucked in a breath. The pain was manageable, and with his body’s healing ability, it would soon disappear. He had other, more important matters to focus on. “It was foolish of you to take on the tzitzimime alone. He is strong and determined.”
Carolina bristled and dropped her arm, so that cool air touched his skin.
“I am no stranger to the tzitzimime. I am not afraid to defend myself or my land.”
“Annihilate this one and more will come.” He reached out and clasped her arm. She stared down at his grip, fury in her gaze. “Every soul they gather makes them stronger. I cannot allow them to steal your spirit.”
She yanked her arm away. “I’m going into the house. You are welcome to rest inside until you are healed, but then I want you off my property.” She strode away, her spine rigid, her long braid bouncing against her back.
“You did not listen well to your mother’s stories,” he called out.
She paused, looking at him over her shoulder. “What did I not learn from her?”
He got to his feet and approached until they stood nearly nose to nose. “Shadow warriors may protect humans, but for every demon’s soul they destroy, they also lose a piece of their own humanity. A warrior’s only hope is a spirit mate.”
“My mother never spoke of spirit mates. What does it mean?”
He reached out and lightly touched her cheek. “Carolina, you’re my spirit mate. My salvation. The only one who can save me from losing myself to the wolf.”
“I can’t be your spirit mate.” Her eyes widened.
He brushed his hand along her jaw to her shoulder, resting it upon her tattoo. The hummingbird fluttered under his palm. “You can’t deny my touch.”
Carolina pulled free and clasped a hand over her tattoo. Whirling away, she fled into the house.
Tomás watched her go. Her stubbornness made no difference. Piece by piece, he was discovering his humanity—proof that Carolina was his spirit mate. Now that he had found her, he wasn’t about to let her get away.
Chapter Six
Carolina stormed into the house, riding the waves of anger rolling through her. It seemed safer than touching on the other emotions Tomás produced inside her.
She’d naturally been concerned about the gouges in his side, until she touched him and her body betrayed her. His bare skin beneath her hands ignited her d
esire, flooded her with want and need to satisfy a thirst she had never encountered before.
Then that statement—You’re my spirit mate.
Just thinking the words made her shiver in reaction. She knew she was susceptible to him and was grateful he’d given her an excuse to snatch her arm away. She’d been close to behaving like some love-starved teenager—running her hands all over him, pressing her body up against his and asking for things she had never asked of any man.
How could she have forgotten so quickly her duty, her promise to Chica?
She stood inside her bedroom, her hands on her flaming cheeks, willing herself to get a grip. She needed to change. She still wore the shirt Billy had ripped. The idea that she could have ever been attracted to that slimeball made her cringe. She needed to take a shower. Quickly, she unbuttoned her shirt, took it off and threw it in a woven hamper in the corner.
She turned and inhaled sharply.
Tomás leaned against the doorjamb. She’d never heard him enter the house. Her eyes flicked up and down his body, noting the nearly healed wounds on his ribs, and of more significance, the incredible hard-on he didn’t bother to hide. She should have turned away, but she couldn’t resist the chance to look upon his magnificently sculpted body. More amazing to her was the feral smile he wore. He stared at her breasts encased in a peach lace bra. His eyes flared with heat and hunger.
“Um,” she said, licking her lips as she tried to pull her scattered thoughts together, “you took a wrong turn. This is my bedroom. The living room is through that door.”
“I have no interest in your living room.”
“Well, then, what do you want?” she asked desperately. She could feel his eyes devouring her. Embarrassed and feeling exposed, she crossed her arms over her chest. The lace scraped against her swollen breasts, puckering her nipples, and she wondered what it would feel like to have Tomás’s hands on her. The image of his mouth suckling her proud but small breasts sent a shot of desire straight between her legs.
Out of the Shadows: Shadow Warrioes, Book 1 Page 4
