Harlequin Nocturne March 2016 Box Set (43 page)

Tombi placed his mouth over one of her nipples, his tongue lathing the sensitive bud. His hand felt her core, and he inserted a finger. Annie bucked against it, her muscles contracting. The roaring in her head was like that of an incoming train—a powerful force bearing down and that couldn't be stopped.

She fondled his erection, and Tombi groaned. He entered her, and she squeezed her thighs and core, desperate for release from the building crescendo.

It came, crashing like the Gulf tide at high waters. He plunged in and out, advancing and retreating, dominating and surrendering, until together they climaxed. She held on to his muscled back, an anchor in the passionate maelstrom. Her breath gradually slowed down, and her heart returned to a normal rate.

Tombi rolled beside her, a soft music of flute and drumming played like a lullaby. She was so tired...slumber beckoned. Before she surrendered to it, an unexpected quiet filled her mind and body.

A perfect silence blanketed her world for the first time—blissful, peaceful silence. And all because of Tombi. Annie sighed and snuggled under the crook of his arm, knowing she was safe and loved—even if he didn't know his own heart yet.

CHAPTER 18

T
onight was The Night. Two weeks had passed since Hanan had tied her to the tree, and her wounds had scabbed over.

Morning rose with twin orbs gracing the sky—the bright sun to the east and the pale slip of the full moon visible and awaiting its hour to usurp the heavens.

Annie had glanced fretfully at the moon for hours, knowing that with each minute that passed, she was either a step closer to a future with Tombi or a step closer to losing him forever. Various hunters had come and gone throughout the day, conferring with Tombi on tonight's battle strategy.

Annie shyly moved among them, her hair adorned with two skinny plaits at the front, the hunters' gifted feathers braided in the strands. She gleaned from snatched conversations that in the prebattle ritual, she was to summon her hawk for the heirloom flute to defeat Nalusa.

Talk about pressure. If only Grandma Tia were here, but she'd be in rehab a few more days.

She fully understood what Tombi had dealt with for years; the weight of responsibility pressed down, smothering her lungs until her breath grew shallow and her stomach leaden. What if the hawk had been injured or killed? The hunters had found no trace of Hanan, no clue as to who had been the victor in that skirmish.

The murmur of voices grew louder in the cabin's den as the whisper of twilight approached. A furtive glance behind, and Annie snuck out the back door, certain no one saw her. The heat had cooled from near one hundred degrees to the low nineties. Tolerable. Nothing like the cool night air of the North Georgia Mountains, but she'd been a summer visitor to the bayou ever since she was a baby and had acclimated to the heat and humidity, as much as humanly possible.

Not to say she enjoyed it. Annie grabbed the front of her T-shirt and fanned the cotton cloth back and forth in a futile effort to dry the perspiration gathered in her cleavage. Quickly, she scurried down the back porch steps, eager to reach the patch of trees that would shelter her from human eyes. There she could beckon her hawk without the prying...

“Where do you think you're going?”

Caught again. Annie's shoulders sagged, and her head lowered. Slowly, she turned around to face Tombi. “Just getting a little air,” she called nonchalantly over her shoulder.

“Nice try.”

Annie sighed and faced him. “I thought you were absorbed in business.”

“I'm never so busy that I don't notice where you are.”

“So I see.”

“Why do you keep sneaking off? You're welcome to join us. I just didn't think you'd be interested.”

Might as well tell him the truth. Annie kicked the toe of her sneakers in the red clay dirt. “We've tried every day to summon my hawk together, and it hasn't worked. Let me try to do it alone without everyone watching. It might work this way.” She sighed heavily. “I feel like such a failure when my summons don't work.”

“No one will consider it a failure if the hawk doesn't ever show. You can't control an animal guide. He'll show or not, depending on its own will. We all know that.” Tombi walked to her and held out his hand. “Come back inside where it's safe. I don't want the distraction of worrying about
you
on top of everything else.”

Annie folded her arms under her chest. “Y'all don't stand much of a chance without the flute. Everything depends on my hawk. And me.”

Tombi dropped his outreached hand. “This wasn't your battle to start with.”

“Well, it is now.”

“No. It's too dangerous.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “I won't lie. That flute could be crucial, but not at the risk of putting you in more danger.”

“I'm already in danger,” she pointed out. “I overheard you telling the others that I'll be included in the ritual dance and that we'll try to contact the hawk as a group. But I need to do this on my own.”

“No. We do it before the battle, and then you'll stay here in the cabin with one of my hunters on guard.”

Anger scraped the back of her throat. “And when were you going to tell me this? Right before the ceremony? It's already dark, almost time for the gathering.”

“The less time for you to argue,” he said with a rueful grin. “C'mon. Remember how much you hate snakes?”

She glared at his pitiful attempt at humor. “I'm going with you tonight.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You can't stop me. I'm going to contact my hawk now, and I'll be with you and the others this evening.” Annie spun away.

She made it all of three steps before Tombi caught up to her and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “How about a compromise?” he suggested.

She raised an eyebrow.

“I come with you now and stay by your side while you connect with your hawk. In turn, you'll agree to stay at the cabin this evening.”

One step at a time. Get the flute and then renegotiate
. “Okay. But stay at least a few feet away from me when I petition my guide. He'll be more likely to show up.”

Annie had no idea if that were true, but Tombi's proximity made it impossible to concentrate on anything but the music of his heart.

He nodded and dipped forward in a mock bow. “I'm following you. Lead on.”

Annie smiled to herself. Victory was won a battle at a time. She strolled to the path to the woods, Tombi close on her heels.

The temperature mercifully dipped several degrees under the canopy of trees. Annie located a fallen log and sat on the makeshift bench. Tombi backed off a few feet and stood, watching.

“Don't stare. You're making me nervous,” Annie complained.

Tombi gave a long-suffering sigh. “I'll be over here.” He gestured at a tree a few feet behind him. “No farther.”

“Fine.”

Annie deliberately turned her back on Tombi and drew three deep, calming breaths. She let down the shields Tombi had taught her to erect and fully opened her senses. Wind whistled in the treetops, twigs crunched with the scurrying of small animals, the swell of an ocean wave breaking from far, far away, the hum of insects, Tombi's heartbeat. Annie drew the cinnamon stick sprinkled with frankincense essential oil from her mojo bag and inhaled. She held it between her palms as she pressed them together into the prayer position.

“I beseech thee, hawk,” she whispered. “Your will is your own, your heart wild and free to roam the bayou. But if possible, I need your help. By the power of the universe that created you to fly and me to walk on land, I ask that you appear.”

She paused and cocked her head to the side, straining to hear its presence above. A cold chill chased down her spine. What if Hanan had managed to free himself of the hawk's talons and kill it?

No. Surely she would have heard or felt some sign of such a catastrophe. Annie tried again.

“Please, help. We need that flute. Just this one favor is all I ask. With the flute we can stop Nalusa and contain the birds of the night—
ishkitini
—that prey upon you, as well. In the name of all the holy saints, please, come. Amen.”

She kept her eyes pressed shut, hardly daring to breathe. Every second that ticked increased her agitation, and her fingers stroked the soft feathers braided in her hair. Annie crumpled the cinnamon stick in her hand and held it to her nose. The sweet spice odor calmed her mind, allowing her to focus. She pictured her hawk, flying high above the oaks and pines, wings spread majestically, eyes sharp and probing, searching below. Seeking, seeking. In its left talon, its gnarly claws clutched the thin reed—the flute that held their hope and safety. Salvation. How very fragile and small it appeared in the sky. So much rested on such a fragile instrument.

Have faith
.

Grandma Tia's voice commanded—pristine and visceral—cutting through the static of the cacophony and doubt swirling through her mind.

That's all ya got to do, child. Faith moves the mountains and makes all things possible. Yer stronger than ya know. Make me proud
.

If only her grandma were sitting beside her, holding her hand. She could do it then.

But Grandma Tia was miles away. This was something she had to do alone. Something sacred and holy between her and the hawk.

“I'm waiting,” she whispered. “For as long as it takes, I'll wait for you.”

The beating of wings roared above, loud as a hovering helicopter. Annie looked up. Her hawk screeched and flew close, so close its rapid heartbeat fluttered in her ears, and she heard the wind rustle its feathers. The flute was clamped in its hooked beak.

Annie tentatively held out a trembling hand. The hawk was upon her; she smelled the dusty scent of its skin beneath the feathers, felt its hot breath on her face. She wanted to run, wanted to tell it to give the flute to Tombi, but to do so would betray its trust, would repudiate the their bond.

She sank her heels into the red clay, determined to stay rooted.

The hollowed tube thudded onto her opened palm, and she curled her fingers on the warmed wood...

And nearly dropped it when the hawk took flight, disappearing in a loud roar, as suddenly as it had first appeared. Annie clutched the flute to her chest, watching in humbled awe as the hawk became a speck of brown in the darkened sky and then became one with the shadows. Would she ever see him again?

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Tombi stepped in front of her, waiting for her to gather her emotions. “Your hawk came through. I'll be damned.”

“No. You'll be saved.”

He laid his dark hands over her own. The flute pulsed like a living creature. Joyful notes teased her mind; the Choctaw artifact knew it had come home once again.

“This belongs to you,” she said, placing the flute between his fingers.

Tombi lowered his head and rested his forehead on hers. The moment was as sacred and precious as a wedding kiss, a vow of love, the promise of a future. All the things that could now be theirs.

He pulled away. “It's time. Thanks to you, we have a chance.”

“More than a chance. You can't lose now.”

“We won't.” He squared his shoulders and took her hand. “Wait until the others see this. Tonight's ritual will be one of celebration.”

* * *

Sparks of fire crackled and swirled upward, whipped by the Gulf breeze. The scent of burning oak, salty air and purifying sage signaled the welcoming of the full moon, sights and sounds he'd experienced since he was a young boy. The murmurs of his people were solemn and hushed, even more so than usual. Not finding Hanan had been a blow to their confidence.

Tombi came to an abrupt halt. “Wait.”

Annie skidded to a stop beside him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Thanks to you.” Tombi pressed the flute into her hands. “You should be the one to carry this in.”

She shook her head and tried to hand it back. “I don't care—”

“No argument.” He took long strides away from her, emerging from the wooded path and into the field, Annie trailing behind.

The murmur of voices halted as they all stared at their approach. Annie hung back, and Tombi motioned her forward.

“We've got great news,” he declared.

Tallulah broke from the group. “Did you find Hanan?” she asked, peering behind his shoulders.

“Even better news.” He turned to Annie. “Show them.”

Hesitantly, she raised the flute.

“The ancient instrument that will help us defeat Nalusa has been returned to us.”

Tallulah was the first in line to celebrate. She eyed it critically and then faced Annie. Her throat worked. “Thank you,” she said gruffly. She threw her arms around Annie and hugged her.

Tombi grinned at the round
oh
of astonishment on Annie's face.

“—knew she could do it.”

“—never doubted her—”

“Tonight we win—”

“—Hanan is dead meat.”

One by one, every hunter shook Annie's hand. Pride swelled Tombi's heart at her humble acceptance of their tributes. She'd won them over, had become one of them.

And had won his heart, as well. If they defeated Nalusa this evening... No. Tombi gritted his teeth. Tonight was all about the battle. Nalusa and his shadows would pay for the deaths of his parents, for Tallulah's suffering, for the suffering he'd caused everyone in the bayou. He would
not
be distracted from his destiny and duty.

Mela, the drummer, began beating the hand drum. Its rhythm was a call for celebration. Chulah and Pisa took Annie by either hand and led her to the fire. Tombi gathered with the others, and they encircled the bonfire piled with dried sage. The drumming stopped. Through the smoke and heat waves, he saw that all eyes were on him, awaiting the signal to begin. He raised his right arm, and the drumming began, slow and measured. Each put their right hand on the back of the hunter in front of them and stepped forward on their left foot, then slowly dragged their right foot beside the other and stomped.

The tempo increased, then slowed back down to its original pace, his signal to begin the antiphonal chorus. Tombi released two war cries and sang an old, old song calling upon the sun for power. After every stanza, the hunters repeated the verse until the song had been sung three times through.

He looked back at Annie and winked. She had a look of dazed excitement. This full-moon ritual was undoubtedly more colorful and exciting than the paper-burning ritual she and her grandmother shared.

“Enough,” he said. “Let's save our energy for capturing Nalusa.”

A large cheer erupted.

“You each know your assignments. Release as many wisps' souls as possible, and then at the first note of the flute, we attack.”

Chulah raised a fist. “Tonight it ends!”

Tombi waited until the resulting cheering died down. “We have every reason to be confident, but don't take anything for granted. Even in a weakened condition, Nalusa is powerful and cunning,” he cautioned. “Plus, Hanan may still be out there. So be on the lookout.”