Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) (5 page)

Chapter Eight

Arwan

Arwan approached the front door, holding a collection of oranges, a few ripe mangos, and some blackberries he’d found on his way back. It wasn’t a lot, but it would have to be enough until he could figure out how to hunt without his darker half scaring off the local wildlife.

When he pushed open the door and walked inside, the mixed scent of blood and wet fur flooded his nostrils.

“Zanya?”

“Yeah. I’m here.” Her voice was distant from the back of the house.

He went into the kitchen and spilled the fruits on the countertop. The pungent smell intensified, pulling his attention to the sink, where four stiff, speckled legs with three toes protruded from under a rag.

“I see you found our dinner.” Zanya crossed the room, wearing a tank top and a pair of stretchy pants that clung to her every curve, her hair in a braid. “The dead critter in the sink was a gift from Balam.”

“He was here?” Arwan lifted the rag and peeked at the baby spotted tapir.

“No, but Cualli was.”

“What did she want?”

“Besides giving us dinner…” Zanya crinkled her nose at the animal, “…she just wanted to congratulate us on our bonding, and then she left.”

“Did she give any advice on how to cook tapir?” He grinned.

Zanya crossed her arms. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not the best cook. I’ve had a little experience from when I was in the orphanage working in the kitchen, and I’m generally a pretty adventurous person. Hell, over the last year I’ve bonded with an enchanted stone, traveled back in time, fought demons, and even voluntarily drowned in a freezing lake leading to the underworld. But I have my limits. There is
no
way I’ll gut and skin a dead animal. Ever. So that,” she pointed at the animal, “is yours to take care of.”

Arwan chuckled. “It’s really not that hard.”

“Fantastic.” She gave two thumbs up. “Then you won’t have any problems.”

He raised an eyebrow and examined the stiff legs one last time. He’d have to string it up and cut it open before nightfall if they wanted it for tonight. Though he’d never eaten tapir before, if it was a gift from the jaguar god, it would be an insult not to at least try it. “No. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

She exhaled. “Thank you.”

He looked around the space. “I see you’ve been busy.”

Her eyes lit up. “Let me show you around.” She took his hand and pulled him into the living room. “There was a lot of furniture under those sheets. I cleaned them up and moved things around where I liked them. There’s a dining table over there with four chairs—not that we’ll have much company out here, but you never know—and there were a few paintings I found that I hung in the hall. Come on.” She led him toward the back of the house, where several landscape paintings were mounted on the walls. “The nails were already here, so it was just a matter of figuring out what should go where.” Zanya paused, studying them with a faint smile. “Look at the bold strokes and vivid colors. Beautiful, aren’t they?” A moment of silence lingered before Zanya softly gripped his arm. “Come on. There’s more to see.”

He followed her to the last room on the right. Rather than an empty, cold master bedroom, it had been made into a sanctuary. The king sized bed was made with sage green linens and a white blanket. The windows hung open, allowing warm jungle air to pour inside. Several clay ornaments were arranged on the dresser, and oversized palm leaves reached out from a large brass vase standing in the corner.

“You did this?”

“Yeah.” Zanya wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “I mean, I figured if we are going to stay here awhile, we should make it comfortable.”

Even as a young boy, this room had been an empty shell. His mother only used it to store a few pieces of clothing, and occasionally one of them may have used the shower, but no more. Now the space had been transformed.

Zanya hung her head. “You don’t like it.”

“No. That’s not it.” He walked to the bed and lowered himself onto the mattress. Nothing he could say would repay her for giving him his home back. She was the reason this house
was
a home again. She, and nothing else. “Come here.” He held out his hand.

She studied him for a moment, then did as he asked. He spread his legs and pulled her close, resting his forehead against her belly and his hands on her hips. The warmth of her standing so close spiked his blood with adrenaline. “Thank you.” He slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt and skimmed his fingers over her curves.

“I didn’t really do anything.”

He tightened his grip on her hips. She had no idea what her mere existence had given him. For the first time, he didn’t feel alone. For the first time, he didn’t just want to survive. He wanted to live.

***

Zanya

Before long, the howling of monkeys and chatter of insects took over, prompted by the onset of darkness.

Arwan had taken care of the tapir, and even though she was kind of grossed out to admit it, tapir didn’t taste half bad.

The fruit Arwan had collected would be breakfast tomorrow. Their bellies were full tonight, but they’d have to figure out a more sustainable way of providing for themselves in this jungle paradise. Sure, Balam would hunt for them as long as they needed, but it didn’t seem right not to at least try to be independent. Thankfully, after exploring the house, there were still plentiful amounts of some other basic necessities, like toilet paper, toothpaste, and 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. She even found boxes of tampons and some hot water bags to soothe bellyaches. It struck her as odd to find the well-stocked stash if Arwan’s mother never planned to return—or planned for
no one
to return. Perhaps it was coincidence, but there was a good chance it was something more…

Zanya gazed out her bedroom window at the sea of stars. The cool night air caressed her skin, rolling a shiver down the backs of her arms.

The door to the master bath clicked open. Arwan walked into the room with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist, the corner tucked in at his hip. His hair was a mess, but somehow he pulled off the whole rugged outlander look without much effort.

Zanya’s stomach fluttered.

Arwan paused and studied her. “Are you okay?”

She pursed her lips. “Yes. And stop reading me. It’s not fair.”

“I can’t help it.”

She sighed. “I know.”

He grinned. “You could have left me some hot water, though.” He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing down untamed strands.

She bit her bottom lip. “Sorry. I didn’t realize we have only like twenty minutes of hot water.”

He walked across the bedroom, his back and stomach muscles flexing with each movement. “I’ll go on the roof tomorrow and see if I can adjust the angle of the solar panel. Maybe we can collect more power if we clear some of the overgrowth around the house.”

Zanya nodded, unable to speak or tear her gaze from his olive skin and broad shoulders.

He picked up his hiking bag, looked inside, and then set it back onto the floor. “Where are my clothes?”

Zanya pointed to the dresser. “I figured I’d unpack while you were outside taking care of dinner.”

“Oh.” He stared at the drawers. “Thank you.”

A flush of heat rose in her cheeks. She was such an idiot. They’d spent exactly one full day bonded, and she was already folding his socks and putting away his clothes. “Sorry if I…” She pushed a few damp strands of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering on the curve of her neck. “I was just trying to be productive.”

Arwan gave a low laugh. “Because being the one person who can save the middleworld isn’t enough.”

She smirked and shrugged. “There’s that.”

He laughed, louder this time. “We should get some sleep. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow won’t be any easier.” He pulled down the blanket and sheets on one side of the bed.

Her heart skipped.

He froze for a split second, and then grabbed the pillow and tucked it under his arm. “I was thinking of sleeping on the couch, so I could keep an eye on things.”

A streak of guilt tore through her, making her chest throb. It was obvious what he was trying to do. He promised not to push. Not to rush her. He promised he was okay with taking things slow, and he hadn’t gone back on his word for even a second.

It was true, a part of her was nervous. This was all so new, and she had never been with anyone before. But another part of her yearned for him in a way that scared her half to death. It was as if her soul couldn’t bear to stay away from him, and she would rather face her deepest fears and insecurities than sleep with him out of her reach, away from her touch.

That beautiful, terrifying thought was what won over her heart.

“No.” She walked to his side and took the pillow, resting it back in its place. “Stay.” She traced her fingers down the curves of his bare chest. His muscles tensed beneath her touch, then relaxed as she pressed her open palm to his skin. “I…” She swallowed and forced herself to look into his eyes. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in close, cradling her body against his. “I don’t either.”

She raised her brow. “You’ve never…”

He huffed, and a corner of his mouth arched into a grin. “Not many girls are interested in—” His grin disappeared, nearly breaking her heart.

She leaned in close and teased his neck with light kisses, leading a trail of kisses up to his ear. He coiled his fingers around the fabric of her sleeping shirt.

Her stone grew unusually silent, spreading a fog of peace over her shaken nerves. She kissed his jaw, then the crease of his mouth.

He parted his lips and met hers with more passion than she expected. She pulled in a sharp breath through her nose and wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing the warmth of his tongue gliding over hers and his hard muscle holding her close.

She’d found his gentle embrace more than once, but this was nothing like that. He kissed her with purpose, trading careful handling for strong intent.

He broke their kiss and pushed a wave of hair behind her ear, then caught the neckline of her sleeping t-shirt with his fingers and slid it over the curve of her shoulder. She drew in a shaky breath, her skin tingling.

“I feel like I have to ask…” He glided his fingers over her bare skin. “I don’t have any protection.”

Her cheeks flushed with heat. “Oh. Right.” Her tone turned solemn. “About that.” She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his. “We don’t have to worry about that.” She touched the inside of her arm with her fingertips. “In the orphanage they put an implant in all of the girls when they reached eighth grade. It was a…precaution.”

“So…we’re okay.”

She nodded, too humiliated to say anything else. The doctors at the orphanage had taken away so much—her childhood, her privacy, and her right to choose. Granted, she didn’t want any kids. Not now. Not after seeing what her mother had been through. Still, deciding that for her somehow didn’t seem right.

His gentle voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She drew in a deep breath, savoring the warmth of his body near her. As long as they were together, she’d be okay. “I am now.”

He ran his hand down her back and over the curves, then cupped the back of her thigh and lifted one leg while leaning her against the edge of the mattress. She followed his lead and relaxed back onto the luxurious sheets.

Arwan spread his fingers and traced his hand up her leg, stopping at the hem of her sleeping shirt. She gasped a tiny breath and pulled him closer.

He pulled back and searched her eyes. “I don’t have to.”

“I know.” She rested her hand over his and guided him below the soft, cotton fabric. “I want you to.”

Chapter Nine

Zanya

Zanya blinked open her eyes and stretched her hands above her head, savoring the warmth of the pillow top mattress and soft cotton sheets. She skimmed her hand over the cold sheets where Arwan had slept the night before, then glanced at the bathroom door, hanging open with the light off. He must have been up for a while.

She groaned.

He was a morning person.

Strike one.

She squinted at the fresh morning sunlight and slid her legs over the side of the bed, resting her bare feet on the floor. When her skin touched the cool stone, she pulled them up and cringed.

The floors here weren’t nearly as warm as the natural wood in Renato’s house. There she didn’t need socks just to get out of bed. Here, in
their
home, things would be different.

She braved the floor a second time, winning the battle with little more than a second round of chills. She dragged the top sheet off the bed and wrapped it around her, then silently padded to the windows and drew in a deep breath, taking in the amazing view.

She shifted focus to her own reflection in the window, showing her tousled hair and bare legs peeking out from under the sheer sheet.

Glimpses of the night she’d spent with Arwan reeled through her mind. She’d dreaded the idea of her first time. Now that it was gone, a streak of sadness burrowed deep in her belly. He had been so gentle and sweet. If every time could be that amazing, she’d never ask for more.

The bedroom door creaked open and Arwan walked inside. He stopped after a few steps and spent a brief, intense moment studying her.

Zanya’s body flooded with heat, and she bit her lip, dropping her gaze to her bare feet. She brushed her legs together and clung tighter to the sheet.

Arwan closed the gap between them and pulled her close. “Good morning.” He placed a kiss on her lips.

She couldn’t hold back her smile. Just being near him made something inside her bloom. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Better than ever.” He trailed his hands down her bare arms.

Instead of her stomach fluttering, it growled—loudly. She raised both eyebrows and parted her lips. “I guess I’m kind of hungry.”

“Good, because I have breakfast.”

“I’m just going to slip some clothes on and I’ll be out.”

He walked into the hall and grabbed the door handle. “Take your time.” Before closing the door, he paused. “Are you…” His expression became solemn. “Are you okay?”

When she realized what he was asking, she quickly nodded. “Yeah. I’m…I’m fine.”

He nodded, obvious relief relaxing his tense features.

When the door clicked shut, she showered, changed, and then joined Arwan in the kitchen. He stood behind the counter, pouring steaming water into a cup.

The earthy aroma of coffee infused the air.

“Oh. My. God.” Her stomach growled again. This time she didn’t care. “How did you get coffee all the way out here?”

“I didn’t.” He placed the cup on the countertops. “I found it in the cabinets. Manna from the gods?”

“More like compliments of Cualli, I’m sure.”

“First, keeping the house in decent shape, and now coffee? She’s not a goddess—she’s a saint.” She took the mug and sipped the hot brew. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Nothing could be better.”

He grazed his fingers over the back of her hand. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Something cracked against one of the windows, making Zanya jump and spill hot coffee on her hand. “Shoot!” She set the cup back on the counter and watched the burn heal and vanish within moments. Healing was her favorite ability by far. “What was that?”

Another loud smack rattled the window, followed by another.

She cautiously walked toward the window, peering at the small, colorful objects as they crashed into the glass and fell to the ground. “Are those birds?”

They kept coming, an entire flock of yellow and blue finch-sized birds, all following each other to their deaths. Zanya clutched her chest, her eyes wide as blood splattered and smeared over the glass.

Arwan stepped beside her. “What is happening?”

“I don’t know, but…” She looked at Arwan. “That’s not normal, right?”

Arwan shook his head. “No. That’s not normal.”

***

Arwan

Arwan walked outside to a graveyard of birds lying on the ground beside their home. Some were still alive, flapping their wings and spinning in circles. Others struggled and gasped for air. The rest, the lucky rest, were nothing more than tiny broken bodies.

Zanya followed behind him and covered her mouth. “My god…” She crouched beside a bird flailing its tiny feet in an effort to stand, but all it was doing was kicking violently in the air. “Can we help them?”

“No.” He held out his hand to stop her. “Don’t touch them. They could be sick.”

She stood. “You think that’s why they all flew into our window?”

It was possible, but not probable. “I couldn’t say—” The thick layer of soil slithered and snaked to life.

Zanya gasped and leapt back. Arwan shifted, his eyes narrow as the jungle floor came to life.

What appeared to be tree roots broke through the soil and coiled around the tiny feathered corpses. The roots bored into the bodies and coiled around them, snapping brittle bone and tearing open each creature before pulling it underground, leaving red stains splattered over green foliage.

Arwan’s heart raced as he stepped back, his hand extended to Zanya. “Come on. Come on, right now.” She grabbed his hand, and he quickly guided her to the safety of the open bottom level of the home.

“What the hell was that?” Zanya panted, still clinging to his arm.

He searched every possibility, but came up with only one. Visions of Yaxche, the tree of life connecting all three realms, barged to the forefront of his mind. The tree served a wider purpose than to linger above the damned, trapping them in their eternal torment. It was a link between the underworld, the middle world, and the heavens, giving the dead a bridge for their journey.

Arwan tightened his grip on Zanya’s hand. “My gods…” He recalled Contessa, the red haired vixen, once Sarian’s lover, now his predecessor. She consumed the souls of men to stay alive in the middleworld, leaving their hollowed vessels to rot on top of the ground. Anything that witch touched was destined for evil, and with her in possession of the book of Popul Vuh, it was only a matter of time before the underworld would rise. “What have we done?”

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“It’s our fault. We never should have left.” He turned and studied the house on stone stilts, safe from reaching vines. “Wait…My mother built this house, knowing this day would eventually come. She knew…” He reached for more answers, but found none. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hey.” Zanya’s sharp tone commanded his attention. Her eyes were piercing and her lips tightly pressed. “Would you please tell me what the hell is going on?”

“We have to get to the Temple of Inscriptions. We’ll find answers there.”

She tilted her head. “How do you know that?”

He touched one of the stone pillars, cool against his skin. The glyphs carved into the rock told a story. They spoke of the temple, where generations of history were etched into its walls. His mother used to tell him fables as he played outside. She said the markings would one day save mankind. “My mother told me so.”