Soul Awakened (25 page)

The soft sand moved under her feet. It resurfaced memories of a better time of –

her family on the beaches of the Eastern Shore. Bomani spread the blanket out and started to pull out the food from the satchel. “I was not sure what you would like, so I threw a little bit of everything in.”

Kendra flopped on the blanket and crossed her legs. It was dark out, but ironically, she wasn’t afraid. She couldn’t remember the last time she had her flashlight anyways. It had gotten lost in all the chaos. She didn’t need it anyways right now. The cloudless sky allowed the stars to illuminate the beach, like a full moon. More importantly, she felt safe.

She started to pick at the food. Despite an initial lack of appetite, she ate an entire sandwich, a large bunch of grapes and a glass of wine.

Finally, she lay on the blanket and gazed at the stars. Bomani rested next to her with his hands clasped over his chest. The picnic was such a small gesture, but provided her a little slice of normalcy in her frenzied world.

She reached up and pulled at his arm. His hand fell perfectly into hers. She weaved her fingers through his.

Maybe she could forget.

A calming wave flowed through Bomani’s skin into his cells and coursed up the length of his arm from the small hand he held in his palm. His nervousness bled away from this strange but beautifully soothing aura. It overpowered his resistance to it, like a sweet sedative.

He wondered if this was the magic that kept Bakari from hurting her. There were no coincidences. His hope sunk slightly with the realization that it only confirmed Bast’s statement. Kendra was not made for him. That may be the case, but she was here with him now, seeking his comfort. Bakari did not deserve something so precious. His brother had chosen his course and was paying for his sins. Bomani would ensure it—ten times over.

He pushed away the guilt that filtered into his conscience. He knew what would happen to Bakari the minute he left the warrior barracks. The bastard deserved it, hurting Kendra the way he did. He looked at her creamy skin against his black scarred arm. It was the first time in his life he wished his skin was smooth and unmarred. He was used to the numbness left by the scars. It was not until Kendra’s touch did he realize what he was missing. Her energy bypassed the numbness. It grew the longer their hands were connected, eliciting both excitement and uneasiness.

The warmth spread into his chest and settled into his soul. Having been alone most of his life, he closed his eyes reveling in the fullness in his heart. Fearful of a foe exploiting his weakness for a woman, he had never let anyone get close. He exhaled a heavy breath and turned to look at the woman who seemed to have captured his heart.

Kendra stared toward the heavens. His gaze shifted to her lips. Everything about her was perfect, only small compared to him. He let go of her hand, shifted onto his side and propped his head up with his hand. A long curled stand of her hair stuck to the path of wetness left by her silent tears. It bothered him to see her reaction to Bakari. Jealous of their blood-bond, he would give anything to have it for himself. Or find a way to break it.

She turned to look at him, when he brushed the strand away. His touch lingered greedily, wanting more than friendship. He returned his hand to his side. “Are you okay?”

Kendra smiled. “Yeah, just…,” she paused and looked away. Bomani grasped her hand again and caressed his thumb against her soft skin.

“Do you think I’m weak?”

His mouth hung open, unsure of what to say. He stared at the petite hand that he caressed gently. To him, she seemed so fragile, like an expensive glass vase that needed to be wrapped and concealed in a protective case. “What do you mean?”

 “My sisters are always saying I’m not strong enough to go on missions. I don’t blame them for saying it. I’m afraid of the dark. I’m accident prone. I think I’ve broken about every bone in my body in the last twenty-two years.” She sighed.

“Strength comes in many different forms. It does not have to be physical strength that defines one as weak or powerful. There are warriors smaller than me that have extraordinary power. What they lack in size they make up for in other ways. Will power. Devotion. Loyalty. Honor.”

She turned on her side. “I can’t defend myself. I have no powers, nor strength.”

“You do not need to worry.” He dared to trace the line of her jaw with his fingertip. “I will protect you.”

“But…”

He silenced her with his fingertip to her lips. “I will protect you,” he spoke from his heart. Despite his words, fear and sorrow penetrated her eyes. She broke his contact by rolling onto her back and staring to the heavens.

“Who will protect Bakari?” she asked on whispered breath.

Bomani slumped onto the blanket.
Who indeed?

Bright red blood dripped into a small puddle on the floor from Bakari’s mouth. The last punch slammed his teeth together. His internal defense triggered an involuntary physical response, elongating his teeth and nails. Something that only happened to full-blooded, Underworld gods. He suppressed his instinctual changes or the ruse would be revealed. He pushed himself up onto his knees for the fiftieth time. Hell, he had lost count.

Sin grabbed under his arm and yanked him up. The fledgling pushed him toward his cot. “What the hell do you think you are doing? The objective is to stay alive, not make yourself a training bag.”

“Get away from me,” Bakari snarled. He was alive and that was the problem. He wanted to feel the pain because that is all he had. A familiar friend, but he had yet to break the threshold he had long grown tolerant of and would continue to get up and receive a beating in order to match it.

“At least throw a gods damn punch or you will find yourself back in the primordial soup from which you came,” Sin growled back and dared to lay a restraining hand on Bakari’s chest.

The leader of the welcoming party pushed Sin out of the way and grabbed Bakari by the shirt. The senior warrior’s knuckles were bloody and bruised from the beating he gave Bakari. “We have been at this for over an hour. Why do you not stay down? It would make it easier on both of us.”

Bakari stared at the warrior with disinterest. Like his existence, he planned to wait it out and then crawl right back into his cave. He wanted to be left alone.

The warrior slammed his fists into Bakari’s chest and snarled, “Too good to speak to us,
odjit
?” Bakari staggered back, his calves bumping into the cot. Fury ignited in the warrior’s eyes, obviously frustrated with Bakari’s apathy and unwillingness to submit. 

The one-sided fight drew the attention of the entire legion. Warriors gathered around Bakari and the five assailants. Bakari never intended to become a spectacle. Some in the crowd hooted and hollered encouragement, while the larger majority had murderous looks in their eyes. Damn his brother who could not leave well enough alone. 

“You are given a name you do not deserve,” the warrior sneered and then spit in Bakari’s face. “You are not worthy to be among us with your silver eyes and pale skin.”

Bakari wiped the slime from his face. Spit and blood mixed together in his palm. He almost wished he could crawl in his sarcophagus. The scorpions were smarter than this Neanderthal. “Are you finished? Can we get back to the ass beating, because I cannot stand the smell of your breath,” Bakari taunted.

The crowd grew silent a moment before the hall erupted in laughter. With teeth bared the senior warrior charged and wrapped two thick arms around Bakari’s chest. Bakari slammed into the old cot. An explosion of wood splinters erupted around them. A folly of punches landed with penetrating accuracy to Bakari’s face and abdomen. Finally, the warrior rolled off. “Get up.”

Bakari struggled to rise onto his hands and knees, barely able to support his own weight. His pain had finally registered as unbearable.

The warrior smiled. “Well, it is about time.” He slammed his foot into Bakari’s side and rolled him onto his back.

Splayed on the floor, Bakari blinked away the blood that dripped from the large gash above his eye. His pain gave way to numbness and fogginess muddled his brain. He rolled his head to the side, hoping he would lose consciousness. Instead of a tunnel of darkness collapsing around him, a flash of green flickered in his line of sight.

His reminder.

He wanted his nightmare to end, but a beautiful woman had his life tethered to it. The consequence of his own fear. His own weakness. The hill he had to climb— too steep. It required significant energy to even think about getting up again. He had been at this place once before – despair drowning any hope he may have. Where was his Parvana now? His uncle said to find his honor. How the hell do you do that when you cannot stand to live another minute?

“Well, well. What do we have here?” The large warrior leaned over and picked up the cylinder shaped object. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Mmm, smells like a woman. Where did you get this fledgling?”

“Give it to me,” Bakari hissed. 

“So you can speak, fledgling. I was getting worried.” The warriors laughed.

“Give it to him, Haji.” Sin pushed his way back into the ring.

“Shut up, Sin. You should know your place. If you have forgotten, I’ll be happy to remind you.” Haji shoved Sin into the hands of two waiting warriors. Sin elbowed one in the face.  

Bakari rose to his feet with a sudden rush of strength. The flush of heat entered his muscles. A smoldering fire boiled his blood from within. As if the warrior held Kendra in his hands, Bakari’s possessive rage thrust through his last reserves. Weakness and fatigue melted away, bleeding a fury that he could not control.

“Give it to me,” Bakari roared.

Two of the five stepped in between him and Haji. “Come and get it, fledgling.”

Bakari’s vision flooded red. A simple thought would kill them all, but what fun would that be. Haji would learn when it came to Kendra, no one would stop him. The inanimate object was all he had left of her. However little, it mattered to him. He lived for her alone.

With a dark energy flooding his muscles, Bakari clenched and unclenched his hands. He would make them pay.

Odd, the feeling of such strength from a simple and innocent connection.

Kendra walked quietly with Bomani’s hand engulfing hers. She drew solace from it, but it also made her nervous. Kit had said he had feelings for her. With her brain so scrambled, she didn’t know what she wanted, but the need for comfort negated any attempt to pull her hand away.

Despite the warmth of his touch, the ache in her chest had grown. Worry set her heart a flutter. What if it was Bakari’s pain? What was he doing? Did he need help? She clamped her eyes shut in the hopes to stop the volley of questions in her head. The instant she closed her eyes a multitude of horrible possibilities flashed through her mind like pages in a graphic novel. Would Bakari turn on her and his family? Would he succeed in killing himself and taking her along with him? Would she drop to the ground any minute or take her last breath? 

“Kendra.” Bomani’s smooth voice broke the torrid of visions. She opened her eyes and stared at the door to her quarters. When had they fixed the latch?

The weight of the events of the past week and heck the past five years came crashing upon her at that moment. Her breath quickened and tears clouded her vision. The ache in her chest exploded with such force, she envisioned her heart ripping in half. Everything that she had stuffed away in that dark corner of her brain burst like an overwhelmed dam, opening the flood gates of sorrow and despair.

“Easy. It is going to be okay,” Bomani said, as he knelt beside her.

She shook and sobbed uncontrollably. Her legs buckled under the weight of her depression. She crumpled against Bomani’s chest. His warm arms gathered her tight against him. Grateful, she wrapped her arms around his torso, seeking something to fill the void inside her heart. Anything to stop the pain and grief.