by Lakes, Lynde
Published by Evernight Publishing at Smashwords
http://www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2012 Lynde Lakes
ISBN: 978-1-927368-67-1
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Marie Medina
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To my wonderful husband, and two lovely young ladies on their way to a dynamic womanhood, Ally Malone and Ivanna Rompf. Be all you can be girls! And I can’t forget my friend Winona Prette. And to those who worked to bring this passionate novel to my wonderful and faithful readers: My publisher Stacey Adderley—EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING, my editor, Marie Medina, My cover artist, Sour Cherry Designs & the acquisitions manager Marie Buttineau.
PRIMITIVE FLAME
Lynde Lakes
Copyright © 2012
Prologue
Island of Hawai’i, known to locals as The Big Island
Pele, Goddess of Fire, watched the tall, muscular young man climb the slope of her volcano near the sea. Should I only frighten this intruder, or lead him to his death? She picked up a boulder, but something about the youth stayed her hand. He was a mere mortal, but bold and strong, like a warrior from an ancient time. His legs were as thick as young tree trunks, the legs of a demigod. His chest was a golden plane of smooth muscles.
The goddess sighed, sending steam rising from the cracks and crevices along the path.
He didn’t stop.
She sent a snake of fire slithering along the ground. Flames licked at the young man’s feet.
He kept climbing.
Pele narrowed her eyes and made the earth quicken and belch sulfurous vapors, causing a small landslide.
He looked up. His smile illuminated the dark face of the crater.
Her heart thundered. She would not sacrifice this valiant mortal—simply test him. She dimmed her flames, suppressed her steam.
He leaned forward and looked boldly into the blazing pit, his eyes the unfathomable black of the abyss.
Pele’s nipples tightened. A pulse throbbed low in her belly. Steam gathered between her thighs. She craved the strength and potency his young, strong body promised.
She trembled. The ground shook under the young man’s feet. Fiery blasts erupted from the cauldron. Boulders splashed into the bubbling magma below. Riveted by the churning phenomenon, he stepped closer to the edge. She rewarded him with a spectacular fountain of fire.
A child by this bold, magnificent human would stand firmly against those who would violate sacred lands. The child of this union would have extraordinary memory and supernatural vision. The goddess had the power to give such gifts, to take any form she chose, the power to build new islands, to raise mountains, to stagger men’s senses. However, she could not change her tempestuous nature.
At dusk, Pele took the form of a slender young woman and met the man on his descent. Her hair, darkly rippling as molten lava, streamed light, like phosphorous riding the night ocean waves. Smiling, she slowly ran her hands over her hips, down her thighs. Her brown breasts rose and fell like the restless tide.
With slightly swaying hips, Pele deserted the volcano, entered the nearby woods, and the young man followed. She left the path and led the way to a secluded pool. The water hissed to steam as she entered. The young man’s eyes glinted with fearless desire. She took his hand and drew him into the churning fury. The water should have scalded him, but Pele spoke words of enchantment, her sultry voice echoing around him, her breath scorching the leaves on the overhanging tree limbs. She glided her fingers up his chest, snaked her arms around his neck, and he took her with him as he slipped to the bottom of the pool. In the murky depth, he thrust himself inside her. Pele shuddered. The stormy water bubbled in wanton turmoil, spilling over the sides. They rose to the surface, breathless, clinging to one another. Tongues of flame darted off the man’s hair and mingled with Pele’s fiery tresses. Her joy erupted into laughter and her torrid breath whipped the charred tree branches, coating the lovers with white swirling ashes.
Chapter One
Twenty-six years later, San Diego, California
Lani Ward turned the corner in time to see the postman pull away from her curbside mailbox. With an unexplainable urgency rising within her, she swung into the driveway and braked the car to a stop. Her heart pounded wildly as she leaped out and raced to the box.
She withdrew a package wrapped in brown tapa cloth and secured with a coarse hair-like gray twine. The parcel warmed her hands as though sunbeams were imprisoned inside. It was addressed to her and postmarked Hilo, Hawai’i. Her mouth went dry. After all these years, something from the island where she was born. She recognized the coarse cloth made from pounded mulberry bark, considered by some Hawaiians to be sacred. Carefully, with reverence, she peeled away the wrapping with trembling hands.
Beneath a lei of scarlet lehua blossoms, a black, flame-shaped lava stone pendant caught the rays of the late afternoon sun and sparkled up at her. Spellbound, she gently shoved the blossoms aside, and from the swath of fragrant, waxy green leaves and shiny red berries, she lifted the glittering stone.
She closed her fingers around the pendant—its heat and electrifying energy seeped into her being. Lani stopped breathing as she slipped the delicate chain around her neck. When the stone rested between her breasts, she inhaled and breathed in deeply. She felt different inside, as if a repressed energy had been released. The new power filled her with purpose.
Lani dug into the box, looking for a letter or note. Disappointment washed over her. There was none. She gathered up the wrappings and raced into the house, not stopping until she reached her bedroom. Her breath came in short gasps. She stopped before the mirror and stood very still, mesmerized. The ebony stone glowed like a hot coal.
The room spun like an out-of-control carousel.
She didn’t remember lying down on the bed, but suddenly she felt the soft fluffy comforter beneath her. The lava stone warmed the valley between her breasts. As she caressed the stone, the room faded away…
Her dream took her to a misty forest. Maile vines tangled amongst the scarlet lehua blossoms of the ohia trees. A breeze sang melodic chants through its branches. A giant of a man with a mane of golden hair slightly longer than shoulder-length came toward her. His bearing was erect and kingly. His bare chest was broad and tanned as though he spent a lot of time in the sun. He wore jeans, heavy boots, and a tool belt over lean hips.
Lani’s heartbeat quickened. She fought to control her inner trembling. “Who are you?” she managed to ask.
He threw down the hard hat he carried, and reaching out with muscled arms, drew her close. His musky, male scent intoxicated her, while his firm thigh pressed into hers. A pulse throbbed in her core. She had to tilt her head back to look into his face. His expression didn’t soften. He had strong cheekbones, a straight nose, full lower lip, and an aggressive square jaw. His angular features were strikingly handsome, commanding. He stared at her mouth.
“Answer me. Who are you?” she demanded again.
His hand glided up her spine. He lifted her hair and curled his fingers around her neck. His other hand pressed the middle of her back with unrelenting pressure, forcing Lani to arch her body.
She couldn’t stop trembling. “You don’t frighten me!”
The man’s dee
p-set eyes may have been green, but it was hard to be certain in the forest’s shady tangle of trees and ferns. She shoved against his chest. It was a mistake. His body was solid, skin warm, heartbeat steady. Her heart, already thudding wildly, beat faster.
“What do you want?” she asked.
He bent to kiss her.
Before their lips touched, he disappeared in a flash of red lightning.
Shaken and bewildered, Lani stared at where he’d been standing. The cool tangle of twig-strewn tropical forest closed in on her, smothering her in its silence.
A branch snapped.
She turned, ready for flight. A curved-spined old woman with long, tangled hair, gray as ashes, appeared from a thicket of kiawe, the pod-dripping algaroba trees, and scurried toward her. Lani stepped back. The old woman placed a branch of ohelo berries at her feet. Lani wanted to pick it up, but stood frozen in place.
“Come to the island of the sacred birds, pueo and alae.”
It surprised Lani that although she hadn’t spoken Hawaiian since she’d left Hawai’i, she knew the words. “What? Owl, mud hen? Please, I don’t understand.”
“Come! Nothing must stop you!” The old woman’s voice sounded as raspy as dry leaves. Her tattered image began to fade into a veil of orange smoke. “Heed my warning or the man will die!”
****
A week later
Red-eye flight 805 to Honolulu had not yet left the ground, but unknown to Lani, a simmering energy near the Hawaiian Islands gathered in readiness to meet it. Only the animals below in the cargo hold sensed it. They whined and pawed at their cages.
Lani breathlessly boarded the aircraft, eager to see her grandfather. She couldn’t believe she’d defied her foster parents and broken up with her fiancé over a mere necklace. Her family and friends feared the lava stone’s powers, felt it was hexed, and insisted she get rid of it. She couldn’t. Somehow the stone had become a part of her; without its energizing presence, she would feel naked, vulnerable. Leaving San Diego was for the best, she told herself. A new life waited across the ocean. Giddy with excitement, she stowed her carry-on bag in the overhead bin and squeezed past her seatmate. If his saintly welcoming smile hadn’t clued her in, his religious collar would have. In these days of dangerous air travel, who better to share a flight with than someone who had connections in heaven?
Minutes after she fastened her seat belt, the Boeing 747 soared into the air. From her window seat, she dutifully listened to the safety instructions, then opened her novel. The saleswoman at the magazine stand had touted Island Tales as the top book for Hawaiian myths and legends and a reading must for island visitors. But I’m more than a visitor. I’m going home. Not exactly to the place of my birth, but to O’ahu where my grandfather lives. She wished he still lived on the Big Island. With grandfather retired, maybe they could fly over together for a visit. She touched her lava stone pendant. It would be great if they still had family there.
The bald, walnut-skinned minister kept sneaking glances at her. Unnerved, she lowered her eyes to her book, but the printed words failed to hold her attention. She kept seeing those four grim faces at the airport: Mom, Dad, Bev and even David had been there to send her off. It hadn’t been easy to leave the people she loved. She would call when she arrived, and tomorrow she’d shop for the perfect island gift for each of them.
A flight attendant arrived with the beverage cart and poured burgundy wine for the man next to her. Lani selected orange juice.
Her seat partner raised his glass in a toast. “To a safe flight,” he said in an exceptionally deep voice for a man of such small stature.
Lani smiled and returned the toast, warmed by his genteel manner.
“Have we met before, Miss?”
“No, I’m sure we haven’t. I’m Lani.”
“Jacob, at your service.” He bowed his shiny head and extended a bony hand. His strong grip surprised her. A perplexed look clouded his brown eyes.
A silence fell between them, and Lani opened her novel again. Jacob continued to stare while pretending to look past her out the window.
When the flight attendant served the submarine sandwich snack, Lani set aside her book.
Jacob pointed to the cover depicting a likeness of The Goddess of Volcanoes. “Has anyone ever told you that you resemble Madame Pele?” His gaze flicked over Lani. “Your thick, flame hair, those gold-flecked brown eyes. The shape of your face. Everything.”
She didn’t know how to respond.
Undaunted by her silence, Jacob said, “That’s a compliment, my dear. Pele is a rare beauty. Did you know she’s the deity most feared and respected, especially on the Big Island?”
“You talk about her as though she’s real.”
Jacob laughed. “Who knows? As folks say, where there’s smoke there’s fire. Almost every rock, spring, plant and land area in the islands has a Pele legend behind it.”
Lani smiled. “My grandfather told me stories about her.”
Jacob went on as though Lani hadn’t spoken. “She has a wicked temper. Once, she turned one of her lovers into stone because she believed he’d been unfaithful. If she even suspects someone has wronged her, her assumed foe will pay. Usually with his life.”
Lani shivered, unsure whether it was Jacob’s words or the direct way he looked into her eyes that bothered her. It was then she noticed the atmosphere inside the plane had changed. Passengers shifted and twisted in their seats. A baby began to cry. The man across the aisle took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
Jacob grew silent, somber.
“Do you feel a peculiar force building in here?” Lani asked. Perhaps he felt the same uneasiness that prickled her skin.
“Your aura has changed,” he said, leaning away from her. “It’s orange and hot.” Raw fear glinted in his eyes.
“My what?” Maybe she’d misunderstood him.
Jacob glared at her for a moment, then abruptly left his seat. He whispered something to a nearby flight attendant.
Minutes later, Lani had a new seat partner. She lowered her eyes. Heat rose in her cheeks. What had she done to send Jacob away? She pretended to be absorbed in her book and resolved to keep to herself.
The lights in the main cabin went off, and only the reading light above her remained lit. Some of the other passengers settled down to rest. At first, Jacob’s odd behavior had unnerved her too much to think of sleep. Nevertheless, soon the pages of her novel began to blur. Her lids grew heavy. Finally, unable to fight sleep any longer, her head rolled back against the seat.
Snared in a dream, Lani’s heartbeat quickened. In the distance, a bright golden glow defined his muscular splendor against the silvery mist. He wore only a malo, a loincloth, like those worn by ancient warriors. Her breath came faster. Such magnificent shoulders, such powerful-looking legs.
The last time they’d been together in their misty world, he’d drawn her into his strong arms and pressed a scorching thigh against hers. His lips had been so close she’d felt his warm breath. She moistened her lips, craving that moment now, wanting to share the air he breathed, to draw it greedily and deeply into her own lungs.
He reached out. “Come to me.” The need and passion in his deep voice made her knees weak.
She ran toward him without gaining ground, every step on the never-ending escalator of sand separating them by greater and greater distances. “Who are you?” she called. “And why are you in my dreams?”
He stared at her for a moment, turned, and headed into thundering waves. The churning sea pummeled his warrior body. Then he was gone.
“No!” Lani cried. “You’ll die if I don’t save you!” Didn’t he know about the old woman’s prophecy? Lani fell to her knees and pounded the sand with her fist. “Dear God, what am I supposed to do?”
Chapter Two
The airplane lurched and banked to the left, yanking Lani from her dream. Wiping away tears, her gaze flew to the lighted seatbelt sign. The plane bumped on scrub-board air. Static e
lectricity crackled throughout the aircraft. Lani’s skin prickled from the magnetic storm. Terrified, she looked out the window into the darkness. In the distance, the Kilauea volcano spewed curtains of fire; lava coursed down its sides, zigzagging into orange molten rivers. The plane’s destination was Honolulu. Why were they over the Big Island?
Soon, they were directly over the volcano. Its thick, orange-red lava overflowed like spurting blood. The jet engine whined, and the airplane began to vibrate in the unstable air. Lani shot an alarmed glance at her new seat partner. His gray eyes glinted with terror. Nearby passengers mirrored the same fear.
“God, help us!” someone in a back row shouted.
A baby screamed.
The engine’s whine grew louder. Please, let this plane hold together. An acrid odor crept through the cabin like a noxious fog. Heat radiated around Lani and turned the plane into a sweatbox. Perspiration ran down her face, and her clothes clung to her. Earthly fires had risen from the depths to engulf them.
From the volcano’s boiling lava, claw-like fingers reached out. In the torrid orangey caldron, she could barely make out a withered woman’s face scowling up at her. Lani clamped her hand over her mouth and clutched the armrest with a death grip.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the force released them.
Lani’s seat partner wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief as white as his face. “What the hell was that?”
Lani shook her head, unable to speak.
The plane soared toward Honolulu International Airport on an even course, seatbelt sign on. When dawn broke through the silvery darkness, Lani forced herself to breathe normally. Below, Waikiki’s white-capped crystal waters stretched in looping ribbons of deep blue and turquoise, gracefully meeting golden sandy beaches. Skyscrapers pierced the sky like diamond swords.
When the wheels of the aircraft met the ground smoothly, Lani joined with everyone and applauded. Home at last. Safe. She quickly gathered her bag and left the plane, wanting to kneel and kiss the ground. Fellow passengers described the harrowing flight in an excited rush of words to their waiting families and friends.
