by Ines Johnson
Virius darkens the door, but there’s a smile on his face. A look of absolute joy. I’ve risen and am in his arms before I realize I’ve moved.
I meant to ask him where he’s been, what he was up to, what happened to bring that smile to his face when it didn’t originate with him between my thighs. But the taste of his grin is so intoxicating that I find myself licking and sucking at his lips instead of making words.
Virius returns my kiss with vigor, with joy, with complete abandon. It takes a moment before I hear the throat clearing behind us. I open my eyes, but do not take my lips from Virius’s mouth.
Gaius is looking down at us with complete and utter disapproval. I want to tell him that I have more class than to strip down and do it in the dining room. But there’s a part of me, the part that splits my thighs into a V, that would beg to differ.
“Did you know about this?” Gaius asks.
I have no idea what he’s talking about. In order to answer, I’ll need to take my mouth from Viri’s. I do so reluctantly. “Know about what?”
“In order to break the curse, he needs to die.”
All the blood drains from my person. It goes so fast that my heart skips a few beats. When I look at Virius, he doesn’t look angry. He wears the same open acceptance and wonder that he first regarded me with.
I know two things for sure at this moment. I know that Virius would die for me if I asked it of him. More importantly, I know that I will never ask it of him, even if it means others will suffer.
The reason why is simple; I love this man.
Chapter 24
Virius
The flare of Zahara’s nostrils confuses me. The deep crease that settles low into her brow baffles me. The lowering of her hooded gaze disorients me.
If I were to put all of those facial expressions together, it would lead me to believe that my mate is angry. But that can’t be right. I’m giving her everything her heart desires: the land, the money, even the impossible child.
But then I look again. When I do, I see I missed a key feature that led me to the wrong conclusion.
On Zahara’s cheeks, there is a deep red burn where the blood has pooled. That expression is one I know all too well. It is the look of shame.
Reaching out, I cup her face in one of my hands. Her skin is hot to my touch. Her eyes close like a loud door slamming in my face.
“You do not want my child?” I say. It is the only thing that makes sense.
Zahara’s eyelids rise high. Her feline gaze flashes at me. That blinding light from the animal inside her shows not a hint of shame. That is definitely anger. “I don’t want you to die.”
“Oh.” I smile, pleased at the vehemence in her tone at the potential of my demise. “It’s not an actual death. I would simply lose my immortality.”
Behind me, I hear Gaius grinding his molars. I know Hadrian has come into the room as well. He doesn’t gasp his shock, but he vibrates with tension.
I can’t spare my brothers any of my attention. My gaze never wavers from Zahara. She is the center of my universe.
I watch as the sunlight within her continues to wax and wane. Clouds move across her gaze as though a storm is only moments away. This storm won’t be a light spring sprinkle. This promises the torrential rains of a hurricane.
“What is he talking about?” says Hadrian.
“We went to see Dom,” Gaius answers. “Apparently, the vampirism can be reversed.”
“How?” says Marechal.
From the corner of my eyes, I see Marechal go into Gaius’s arms. Gaius’s arms move slowly around her. But once he has Marechal in his embrace, it’s as though the lead has left his body and he radiates warmth around her.
The same happens when Cari goes to Hadrian.
“Dom, another vampire, was bled dry,” Gaius says. “He survived by reconnecting with his soul, or the light, or some such woo-woo nonsense. I don’t know. But his mortality was restored.”
“Bleeding?” says Zahara. “No one said anything about bleeding.”
“So you did know,” Gaius accuses her.
“I knew…” Zahara clears her throat and closes her eyes. When she tries to raise her gaze, it falters. When she tries her voice again, it is only a whisper. “The prophecy indicates that he would die before the child is born.”
She raises her gaze now. The sorrow in her eyes nearly knocks me down. A tear pools at the corner of her eye. I catch it before it can fall.
Another joins the first. And then another. I cradle Zahara’s face in my hands and let the tears fall.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“I will not die,” I say, leaning my forehead against hers. “I’ve been dead all my life. The first time I ever felt alive is the moment I met you.”
Zahara presses her lips together. She looks as though she’s struggling to let words out. Or keep them in. I’m not sure which.
“You are my destiny, Zahara. If I was born simply to spend a few days loving you and then die giving you a child, that time will be a life well-lived.”
“No,” she says, the single word a forceful gale against my lips. “I do not want this destiny. I do not want this child. I just want you.”
“You have me.”
“And I’m keeping you. You are mine. Mine.”
I cannot stop the grin that spreads across my face. This wee little kitten was right. I am her captive. I will happily bind myself to her for the rest of my days, however many they are.
“You gave me the land. Marechal figured out what’s wrong with the vines. As far as I’m concerned, this prophecy is fulfilled.”
“But the child?” I say.
“I don’t want a child.”
I wince at the vehemence in those words. It’s clear she means it. The little cherub I’ve been dreaming of since the car ride home, the little boy with her dark hair and my light eyes—in my mind, I see him crying at his mother’s rejection. I see him shoved out of the room as his mother takes another male to bed. I see him sitting on the street, begging for a crumb of bread because there is no one in the world who cares about him.
“I want this child,” I say.
In my mind’s eye, the little boy looks up. Something sparkles in his eyes. It’s faint, but it’s there. It’s a small light of hope.
“Well, you’re not putting it in my womb.”
Zahara lifts her chin in that defiant pose that made me hard just hours ago. For the first time, I do not stir below. She steps towards me, shoving a claw-tipped finger into my chest. The point of it is a dagger in my heart.
“And if you dare think of sticking Frankie into any other woman—”
“Who’s Frankie?”
“—I’ll claw her eyes out. Her tits, too.”
Zahara turns on her heel and heads to the glass door of the patio. I take a step to follow, but she growls at me.
It’s not a low warning growl. It’s a growl of pure menace. One that says: fuck with me and I’ll take a bite out of you.
By the Fates, I love this woman.
Zahara opens the door and steps out. She reaches down and lifts the hem of her sundress up and over her head. I want to growl at my brothers to avert their gazes from her nakedness. But I am left speechless as her body begins to transform.
The smooth skin I love to kiss grows dark fur. The heart-shaped mouth that leaves me drunk, elongates into a muzzle. The tall, proud woman goes down to all fours as she shifts fully into a black panther.
She is magnificent. She is beautiful. She is mine, and our children will be perfect.
As though she can hear my thoughts, my panther growls at me again. This time, she flashes teeth. I have half a mind to challenge her to a fight, just so that I can tackle her to the ground and show her that I will not be budged from my position.
But I know my little warrior. She needs to believe that she is in control of this situation. So I drop my gaze as though in submission, and allow her a head start before I chase after her.
Chapter 25
Zahara
My stomach turns in knots as I run through the vineyard. Even though I’ve just eaten two helpings of the fancy beef stew, my stomach feels empty. That’s why it’s grumbling and hissing as my paws strike the ground. That is the ache that needs to be filled.
The moon’s light shines down upon me. Its rays feel warm tonight, like the light of the sun. I shrug off the light for the shadows.
I don’t want to be anyone’s light. I want the darkness around me. If the prophecy can’t find me, if it can’t see me, then it won’t happen.
So what if the thought is childish? I’ve been treated like a child all my life. Every decision has been made for me by those who thought they knew better. Well, they’ll just have to deal with this tantrum because I am about to raise hell in the middle of the mall. Too bad I’m alone in a vineyard.
I scent the prey at the far edge of the vineyard. Deer are typically a nuisance for the foliage that grows on the vineyards. Too bad this deer decided to come in for a late-night snack when a pissed off panther was on the prowl.
I move silently towards it. The creature is yards away from me. It doesn’t scent me yet, but it does sense me.
Its ears twitch. Its mouth pauses in chewing the leaves it’s stolen. My leaves. This is my land.
As though my anger is a living, breathing thing, the deer appears to sense it. I stay in place, holding still. Unlike other predators like wolves, my kind doesn’t chase their prey until they tire. I wait until the deer is within range, and then I pounce.
I leap into the air, springing nearly fifteen feet to close in on the kill. My claws extend. My front paws grasp around the animal’s shoulders. I’m preparing to rip out its neck when I notice an unexpected scent. The sweet scent of mother’s milk.
I have a doe in my clutches. She has milk in her breasts. Somewhere nearby, there is likely a gangly-legged Bambi watching this murder go down.
I retract my claws and let the doe go. She hobbles off into the night. The trail of her blood might make it easy for another predator to track her down.
There’s nothing I can do about that. She had been set in my path. If it’s her destiny to die tonight, then I can’t stop it.
What I can do is stop the death of the man I love. Whether he likes it or not. There will be no Bambi for us. Despite what he thinks, despite what everyone thinks, there’s no need.
The prophecy has proven it doesn’t need to be followed to the letter. The land was restored to its rightful owners without any bloodshed.
Well, technically Viri did bite me. But I allowed it. Hell, I want him to sink his fangs into me again, and soon.
The berries will produce. That’s all thanks to science and not magic. Which has to mean that my loins don’t need to bear any fruit. Which has to mean that Virius doesn’t have to die.
At the entrance to the caves, I shift. I walk into the underground clearing on two human legs. On the walls hang robes in white and light blue—the colors of Guatemala, where many of these women are from. Those original descendants of the Tohono O’odham who went down south from our ancestral lands dress in jeans and blouses instead of the manatees and moccasins of the old days.
I pull a sheath over my head as I proceed deeper into the belly of the cave. The women are gathered in clusters. I note that the clusters don’t resemble the two factions of days ago. Itzel and Zuma have their heads bowed together as they speak in hushed voices.
When I look closer, I see that they are standing around a raised altar. A large, drab, gray stone decorates the dais. Four sets of chains and manacles hang from each corner.
“What the actual fuck?”
All gazes turn to me. Only a few of those pairs of eyes then cast downward in shame.
Itzel’s flash in exasperation. “Where is he?”
“Is that for him?” I demand, ignoring her question. “Is that for me too? Did you expect us to do it out in the open for all of you to watch? What the hell do you think this is? Some Eyes Wide Shut crap?”
Itzel stares at me mutely. I should have known she wouldn’t know the erotic film about rich white people. Itzel feels that all media is twisted history. Zuma, on the other hand, smirks at the reference.
“Where is the Night Son, Ixazaluoh?”
“He’s not coming.”
Itzel sighs. Once upon a time, her disappointment would snap my butt into action. Not tonight.
“I won’t let him die,” I say.
“You cannot escape destiny.”
“Destiny can go to the devil. I’ve already fixed everything.” I step up to the dais, making sure to avoid the chains so that everyone can see and hear me. “Viri signed over the land to me. It’s ours again. Marechal Durand figured out what’s wrong with the vines. The soil just needed the right fertilizer. So you see, everything has worked out. We got everything that we wanted.”
A low murmur goes through the gathered women. The hum sounds hesitant, uncertain. I don’t blame them. We’ve all been on this path for decades, but now it’s over. We can all stop this quest, and start to live our lives.
I can live my life. With Viri. While going to school and becoming… whatever I want to be.
“That does not fulfill the prophecy,” says Itzel. “The gods demand the child.”
“Well, I don’t want to get pregnant. And you can’t make me.”
My womb is my own. My body is my own. The only thing I’m willing to give up is my heart. It’s back on the surface with Virius, who I know is coming for me. I’m surprised he let me get this far without giving chase.
“It’s not up to you, child,” says Itzel.
“I’m not a child,” I hiss.
Itzel reaches her hand up to my face and cups my cheek. A shiver goes through my spine at her touch. How had I not noticed before how leathery her fingers feel? How had I not noticed before the frown lines in her lips?
I don’t get a chance to think over any of that now. A sharp pain explodes at the back of my head. I have just enough time to see Pia over my shoulder. She shrugs apologetically as I begin to slump. The last thing I see is the rock in her hand. The last thing I think is to pray to the gods that Virius stays away. But in my heart, I know he won’t.
Chapter 26
Virius
“You’re not going after her.”
I look down at the hand clasping my arm. Gaius’s fingers are elegant, though I know the excruciating torture they are capable of. For years, I watched him bind and thrash humans to within an inch of their lives before drinking from them, or executing them during the Inquisition. I stood right alongside him, doing the same work. Though my fingers still appear stained with blood.
“It could be the end of you if you go through with this,” says Gaius.
I am touched that he cares. Only he and Hadrian have ever cared for me. For centuries, I have been a satellite in their orbits. Zahara is my sun.
“I have to,” I say. “She is my destiny.”
Hadrian steps up to the other side of me, boxing me in. “Please, brother. Let’s just take a moment to think this through.”
Instead of fighting either of them, I wrap an arm around Hadrian’s shoulder. With the other, I embrace Gaius. The two men hold me tight, as though they won’t let me go. But I know the words to loosen their hold on me.
“If Carignan or Marechal asked this of you, would you not find a way?”
I miscalculated. The bonds my brothers had around me increase as Cari and Marechal join in the group hug. The two women have never touched me before. I can’t blame them, as my abuse always made me leery of women.
But this affection from them, I understand. They are my family. Like Gaius and Hadrian, they aren’t going to let me go without a fight.
“I’m going to go after her,” I say inside the cocoon. “She and I will talk about this matter between ourselves. And then we’ll fill you in on our decision.”
There is some reluctance. But slowly, each man and woman begins to loosen t
heir hold. Gaius is the holdout.
“Be home before dawn,” he says. “If not, I’m coming after you with my belt.” He says the words with a sardonic grin, so I know that on some level, he means it.
“Yes, Dad.” I grin.
He cups my chin and gives me a fierce look. I turn from him, and I’m gone. Out the door and on my panther’s trail.
I figured she would head back to the caves, back to her own family. But her scent is strong in the vineyard. I see her tracks in the soil, along with a deer’s. So my kitten decided to take her anger out in a hunt.
Following the signs of the hunt, it’s clear that Zahara overtook the deer. There is a clear sign of struggle in a clearing. However, the deer’s tracks go off in one direction. Zahara’s take a turn in the opposite direction.
So, she changed her mind? Perhaps that means that her anger has abated. A good sign for me.
I follow her tracks, which lead me to the cave entrance. For the second time in less than a week, I enter this place of my own free will. The first time had been to rescue Gaius from these shifters. Along the way, I had scented Zahara’s sweet heat. When I came face to face with her, I knew that she was mine.
I scent that same heat now. She is here, amongst these women, in the sea of long dark hair and honey-brown skin. But I don’t see her.
“Aren’t you the valiant little knight, come to save the Indian princess,” says a croaking voice.
My heart stops when my gaze lands on the white-haired woman. Her smile is proprietary, as if she owns me. Her gaze is calculating, as though she weighs my worth. I am a poor boy begging on the streets of Rome again, and Domitia has come for me.
But this isn’t Rome, it’s Arizona.
I’m not on the streets. This is a cave.
And this woman isn’t Domitia. It’s Zahara’s kin: Itzel.
“You know this won’t be one of those mouse movies where the white man subdues the natives and takes the princess?” says Itzel.
