Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 (14 page)

“Melia,” he murmured against her lips. “Ku’u ipo, let me love you. Let me show you how hot it will be between us.
E huhua’i, wahine
.”

She froze for an instant, her breath hitching. Then her eyes lost their soft, dazed look, and she smacked him on the uninjured side of his head.

“Ow! What was that for?” he demanded indignantly.

She shoved at him, wriggling under him like a fish. Her lips might be soft and wet, but her eyes held storms to equal the one outside. “For scaring the hell out of me and then trying to trick me with your kisses. Well, I’m not falling for any of it, you big flirt. Now, let me go.”

He eyed her, torn between grinning like a fool at her admission that his kisses could affect her so strongly or growling with frustration. Why was she refusing to admit what was so clear to him?

Levering himself up on his arms, he let his gaze wander down her throat, over slender, bare shoulders, down to her breasts. The sweet, plump mounds were covered only by a thin layer of leaf-green knit, her nipples poking at the thin fabric like buds. He dug his fingers into the quilt. His palms sweated—her breasts would fill them, so soft and resilient, her nipples begging to be pinched and then suckled, rolled on his tongue.

“Stop that.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, but the action only deepened the cleft between them, a shadowed path to heaven.

“Stop what?”

“Everything—touching, looking, and especially whatever you’re thinking.”

Now he had to smile at the mixture of wariness and longing in her green eyes.

“Ku’u ipo, I have to look at you.” How could he help it when she lay in his bed like a sweet offering to the gods, wrapped only in tiny cotton garments? For an instant, his vision blurred, and he saw her sprinkled in creamy blossoms instead that he would pluck away one by one, kissing every bared inch of skin, every tiny dapple of beige.

“Well, you don’t have to touch me,” she retorted, her gaze meeting his. “And no more…licking.”

She looked distrustfully at his mouth. “And what does ku-ku’u ipo mean, anyway?”

“My sweetheart,” he admitted. “Although I should call you
nanahuki ipo—
my contrary sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrowed “Oh. That’s just like you, you big—” Her gaze slid sideways, and her words died away.

“What is it?” He hunched his shoulder, wondering if one of his little friends was back. He was so used to them, sometimes he didn’t notice.

“Your…your wounds.” She put her hand on his cheek, turning his head to one side. “Malu…they’re
gone
. Healed.”

Ah, so that was it. He let her look for a moment, enjoying the touch of her fingers on his cheek, his hair. When she touched the bandage, he grimaced. Reaching up, he fumbled for the edge of it and pulled, wincing as several hairs went with it.

Her eyes widened. “Your wound is gone! But…I saw it,” she whispered. “I touched it. There was blood, and…and you had the most horrific bruise, right here! Your eye was nearly swollen shut.”

She paled, her freckles standing out on her skin. Her gaze came back to meet his. “You glow in the dark, you heal from a mortal wound in a few hours. What
are
you?” she whispered.

Chapter Eleven

Recipe for disbelief—take one Hawaiian hunk. Add legend included in package. Listen well.

“I am Ho’omalu. One of Pele’s guardians,” he told her.

“Pele’s guardians?” she murmured. “Guardians of what? And who else is like you? Do you—do you belong to a club or something?”

“A club?” he repeated blankly. “You mean like a canoe club?”

She shrugged, her cheeks flushing. “I don’t know. A secret organization for guys like you…with powers.” She bit her lower lip.

For a wild moment, he was tempted to let her keep going and see where her imagination took them. Apparently, she’d read a lot of comic books, like his older brother. When he drank enough, Daniel could still recite the abilities and enemies of every DC Comics superhero.

“My
kupua
, my power, comes from my family,” he told her. “For many generations, my family has guarded Hawaii for Pele, our patroness.”

She chewed that sweet lip, her fine brows lowering as she regarded him skeptically.

“But what can you do? Besides, um, glow?”

His mouth twitched. “I can call upon the power of Pele’s mountain.”

Her eyes widened, and she shrank back in the pillows again. “You—you mean lava? You can make lava flow?”

He sighed. “Huahua’i? I would only do that in the most extreme circumstances—life or death. I’ve never had to go that far.”

“So what do you usually do?” she asked suspiciously.

“There is no usual,” he said, holding on to his patience with an effort.

“Well, then give me a ‘for instance’,” she demanded, her voice quavering. “Because you’re not exactly reassuring me that I’m safe here.”

He sighed. Levering himself onto his back, he leaned back in the pillows beside her, crooking one arm beneath his head. He looked over at her and smiled to see her watching him so intently, her face serious as an owl’s.

“The best way to explain, ku’u ipo, is talk story. A
mo’olelo
, legend of Hawaii. You’ll listen?”

She hugged her arms across her middle. “If you promise to let me go when I want. How can I trust you if you’re holding me prisoner?”

Ah, that one hurt. “Don’t talk stink, wahine,” he said, fighting for calm. “I wanna keep you safe. Listen to me, and then…you can go anywhere you want.”

Of course he would be right behind her. As if he’d let her run into danger. The drug runners were out there in the night, he knew it. Up on the mountain. They couldn’t wait too long, not if, as he suspected, they’d dropped a shipment for Dane to pick up.

Slowly, she nodded, and he relaxed, satisfied for the moment. She trusted him a little. He would make her trust him completely.

He turned back to look out at the night. The rain had lessened, and he could see the moonlight behind the clouds over the shore. “Long, long ago, when Hawaii was young, my ancestors came here in their big canoes. They came from far away, following the migrating birds, looking for a new place to live. When they found this island, they were happy because it was so beautiful.

“But they were also afraid because it became clear they had come to the home of a great being. The mountain rumbled under their feet, and sometimes the being sent fire high into the sky and fiery lava spilling down the sides toward them. Many times they had to flee their villages, carrying what they could, and build a new village.

“The people knew they must do something, so they held a
hula
and council. They chose the bravest, strongest of their warriors to go up the mountain and speak with the being.”

He cast her a proud glance. “That warrior was my great-great many times grandfather, Kalo. He climbed the mountain, knowing that he probably went to his death, but willing if it would help his people.

“When he reached the top of the crater, out of the steam and sulphur appeared a woman. She was beautiful and terrible, clothed all in fire, with her long black hair flaming around her. She was Pele. Now Pele was growing tired, for she had been calling forth her fire for many, many years, growing her island. She was ready to go down into her mountain and rest, but she wanted a companion.

“When she saw Kalo, she smiled and caused the fire to stop burning. She took him down into her crater, into her great chamber. She invited him to sit with her and fed him kalua pork and the sweetest mango and pineapple ever. When he had eaten his fill, she asked him what he wished of her. He bowed before her and begged her to spare his people from her lava and fire. She told him she would agree to help them if he would stay with her and be her lover.

“Now, Kalo knew that all might be lost, for he already had a wife, his
ipo
, whom he’d married before they set out on the long voyage. Even now, she waited for him down by the sea, carrying his child in her womb.

“Kalo told Pele of his wife and child. He let her see that it would break his heart to leave them, but he said if Pele would keep them safe, he would stay. Pele was angry and caused a huge river of flaming lava to shoot up into the sky from her crater. It rained down all around Kalo. He was terrified, thinking she surely meant to burn him to death, but he did not show his fear.

“When she saw how he stood straight and tall, awaiting his fate with courage, Pele relented. She told him he could go back to his family, but she would exact a price for her mercy. From that time onward, he and his children and his children’s children would serve her by watching over her island while she slept and by dealing with any who would trouble her.”

The room was quiet, so quiet he could hear the soft swish of the surf down in the bay. Then, beside him, his wahine sighed. “And he agreed?”

He turned his head and smiled at her. “And he agreed. At first, he and his wife, Liu, were afraid the fiery goddess would change her mind and take them all. But Pele kept her word, and they discovered that they received many gifts in return for their service. They always had plenty. Whenever they or their children were sick or injured, they could draw healing from Pele’s mountain.”

“But, Malu, you said yourself…that’s only a legend.”

He shrugged. “So it is, mo’olelo. Our legends are a mixture of story and history. They are intertwined.”

“So you must be one of the people who wish Hawaii could go back to the old ways,” she said diffidently. “Before Caucasians showed up, I mean.”

He gave her a look. “That’s fool talk. Everybody on this earth can think of a time they’d like to go back to. Some, before computers and cell phones. Some, before all machines. Some Hawaiians want to go back before people of other races traveled here. I’m a realist. The world is what it is. The islands are what they are. We must work together to make them the best place we can.”

She nodded. “And you have some extra power to help with that. You, um, you never did explain exactly what you can do, though.”

He smiled at her again. She didn’t look entirely sure she wanted to know.

“I can…move the mountain,” he said. “The lava boulders, the earth.”

He waited to see if she would be satisfied with that. Of course she wasn’t—he couldn’t get that lucky.

“What about the fire part?” she demanded. “You’re not going to, you know, melt and run all over the bed, are you?”

He made a manful effort, but he couldn’t repress a snicker. “Only parts of me, wahine. And only if you’re really nice to me.”

She gave a huff of disgust. “Wait for it, hot shot.”

He nodded. “Oh, believe me, I am.”

“But, Malu, if you can…I mean, if you’re so…”

He thought he knew the question she was struggling to ask. It was the same one that had tortured him as he lay on the mountainside. His jaw clenched as his anger at his own stupidity returned full force.

“If I have powers, why didn’t I save Cherie from Gifford?” He looked her in the eye, though his cheeks burned with shame. “Because I was an arrogant fool who thought himself safe from a puny enemy. After the evening cruise, I followed them into the trees, but then I cut up on a higher trail, trying to get ahead of him. I wanted to see where he’d go, if he’d lead me to the cache of drugs. I figured Cherie would follow him a short distance and then turn back.

“I heard something from below. Probably her cry of fright when she realized that, instead of being flattered she’d followed him, he was enraged. So I hurried down the trail. But by the time I got there, she was lying on the ground, unconscious. I bent over her, and he hit me from behind.

“He rolled me over the bank, down into the underbrush. I’m sure he thought I was dead. Maybe he thought she was too, or didn’t care. She certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone what she’d seen. He planned to be long gone by the time she woke up, if she ever did.”

“Why did he just leave her there?” she asked. “I mean, aside from the callousness, didn’t he think anyone would look for her?”

He looked at her. “Didn’t matter. He had a fall guy—me.”

With a graceful wriggle of her round hips, she turned on her side toward him. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly. “And I think…you need to stop blaming yourself for what Dane did. He’s the bad guy here, not you.”

One fingertip touched his bare arm. She drew it back quickly. “You’re still so hot.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I’m not rambling in a fever, ku’u ipo.”

She turned her face into the pillow a little more, peering at him through a long blonde curl, her green eyes shadowed. Her slender hand smoothed the pillow. “Maybe
I
am. Maybe this is all just a dream. I’ll wake up and find myself back in my apartment in Oregon.”

“What if it was a dream?” he suggested, keeping his voice soft. Slowly, with no sudden moves, he turned on his side to face her. “A dream of my Big Island, just for you. What if you could have anything you wanted here, any pleasure, any fantasy? What then, sweet wahine?”

Sudden color flushed her cheeks, and her gaze skittered away from his, down across his bare chest. “David Ho’omalu, I know very well what you mean by pleasure—your huahua’i.”