OutoftheShadows:ShadowWarrioes,Book1

Chapter One

The ache in his soul grew with each step.

His muscles bunched and released as his legs chewed up the distance. He barely felt the scorching desert sand beneath the pads of his paws. His canine nose held the scent of the enemy, unerringly tracking the demon through the sweltering heat and vast expanse of the Arizona desert.

Buried deep inside, Tomás let his wolf spirit take control. His animal spirit loved the chase, relished the moments when it was set free.

A demon had taken possession of a human’s body and had perpetrated ever-increasing horrors on unsuspecting mortals until his actions had caught the attention of Huitzilopochtli, the Aztec sun god. Tomás had been ordered to take down the demon and drag him back to the netherworld. After that, he would scout out this piece of land to determine why demons kept targeting it.

Basically, another mission that would play out like all the others—assuming he survived.

His wolf suddenly halted, head up, body alert. Tomás sought the link between man and beast to determine what had caught the animal’s attention.

A scent flowed in, light and crisp, like the air after a rain shower. It overrode the demon’s acrid, sulfuric smell.

Tomás forced his wolf spirit to pivot, employing all his senses to lock on to the elusive scent.

His heart stuttered. Could it possibly be? Was his spirit mate finally within reach?

Alarmed, his wolf spirit tried to call to him, to take control and order him to resume the chase. Tomás ignored the wolf, his entire focus bent on locating the source of that scent. It called to him in a way he couldn’t define, other than it touched a part of his soul he’d long thought dead. His head whipped left, right, his nostrils flaring, inhaling the odors of the desert. He could feel his wolf pulling at him, determined that they continue on to take down the demon. It was their primary mission.

At least it had been until that scent caught his attention. Hope flared within Tomás. A spirit mate would be his salvation.

His wolf growled, making its feelings clear. His human spirit struggled to override the animal spirit, a battle within one body between two powerful wills.

Was it happening? Had he finally lost the fight just when his spirit mate was so close? Would he spend the rest of eternity lost within the form of his wolf, his humanity subordinate to the will of the beast?

A harsh, painful cry erupted from within Tomás.

His wolf echoed the sound with a long howl.

His warrior’s heart beat strong, his determination resolute. Tomás gave one final tug, applying all his willpower, and then they were running flat-out, heading towards the vast unknown and an uncertain fate.

A wolf’s howl pierced the desert silence, causing the animals to stir restlessly in their stalls. Wolves had been reintroduced into Arizona, but she had yet to see or hear one so close to her ranch. Was it an omen?

Carolina paused in her chores to stare out the open barn door into the gathering darkness.

For a moment, she let herself get caught up in the long, solitary note. It felt like the cry of a kindred spirit. She knew loneliness intimately. Only her loneliness did not come from the vast miles of the sun-parched Sonoran desert that surrounded her, but out of the necessity to protect her goddess, her land’s secret. As one of the few amongst her people to become a guardian, her choices were limited.

The one occasion she’d invested herself in another, he’d betrayed her. She’d foolishly placed her hope and trust in Billy and she’d paid a horrendous price. Her desire to find someone to share the workload, her joy and sadness, and the burden of her secret—just as her parents had done—had blinded her to the trap she’d walked into. By the time she understood what was happening, it was too late. Her parents were dead.

Her heart weighed heavy in her chest as if it had happened recently and not five years ago. The memory of her parents lingered too close to the surface today. This had been their land, their dream, and now it was hers to fight for. She’d vowed never to fail them again. Above her own needs came the higher purpose of protecting her goddess at all costs.

Her mare, Mariposa, snorted and reared up, pulling Carolina from her thoughts. The animals had been growing edgier with each passing minute. They sensed the evil that blew in with the warm desert breeze. She berated herself for not paying more attention to them.

Goose bumps prickled her skin. Her tattoo, a gift from the goddess, began a slow burn on her shoulder, a sure sign that evil was approaching. She felt the heat radiating through the fabric of her denim shirt. The last time she’d experienced the odd sensation, her world had fallen apart.

Cautiously, she turned her head, seeking the source.

Her breath came out in a gasp.

Less than ten feet away sat a magnificent gray wolf, watching her. Waiting.

He detected no fear in the cihuatl, the woman. Surprise, wariness, yes, but not fear. How unexpected.

Even more unexpected was the crisp, refreshing scent of water that he’d caught out in the desert, surrounding her. He tested the air, his olfactory senses lingering over the fragrance, noting it smelled as pure now as it did then. His wolf remained alert, uninterested in the woman before it. Once more they were in complete disagreement.

Everything about the cihuatl interested Tomás.

She wore jeans long faded to a soft blue from years of use, topped with a denim shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. When she’d turned, he’d noted her lean, fit body, the smooth play of her muscles beneath the cloth. She’d pulled her long, dark hair back in a single braid that lay over her shoulder down to the slope of her breast. Her chestnut eyes watched him guardedly.

“I don’t know if you’re the reason my skin is on fire, but you need to leave.”

Her words floated across the distance.

His wolf pricked its ears up. Tomás did the same.

She stared at him with such seriousness that Tomás was entranced. She should be afraid of him, at least edging away to put distance between them. Yet, whether she’d realized it or not, she’d taken two steps closer.

There was harmony in her tones, the sound so clear it flowed through his tattered soul.

“Go.” Her arms hung loose at her sides, but ever so slowly she raised them. Her movements appeared smooth, like ripples across a pool of water, barely noticeable.

This unusual woman intrigued him. A vague memory passed over him like a cloud. And like a cloud, it was too insubstantial for him to hold on to. It had been so long since he had remembered his human past.

For centuries his life had revolved around duty and the constant fight to protect humanity from the demons unleashed by vengeful Aztec gods. He was a shadow warrior, one of the strongest, bravest souls chosen by Huitzilopochtli to defend humanity against evil. In his human life, he had been a seasoned, battle-hardened warrior who fought until the very end. In death, he continued the fight, never resting until he fulfilled his duty to his god. Tomás’s contact with humans remained minimal. He did his job and left. He mixed with humans insofar as it helped him get his target, but never had he cared to spend any time with one of them.

Until now.

This woman might be his spirit mate and that changed everything.

Even his wolf showed none of its prior urgency to chase the demon. Something about this woman held them both captive. Her expression remained intent and focused. She appeared to be a woman of strength wrapped up in an aura of innocence, a combination he found alluring. Confusion warred with rediscovered emotions. He wanted to reach out and touch the woman, connect with her somehow, the need overpowering. His wolf growled, warning him against such recklessness.

The woman stepped back as if she suddenly realized she should get to safety. Each movement flowed from the other and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

An animal squealed in pain and they both whipped their heads around. The animals in their stalls erupted into a wild frenzy. The woman spared him a brief glance before tearing down the center aisle.

The wolf picked up the scent and Tomás cursed. How had he and his animal spirit missed it? He’d been hunting the demon. It looked like the demon had found him instead.

Chapter Two

A muffled gurgle came from the far end of the barn. Carolina slowed her steps, recognizing the folly of running in blind. The sounds of an animal in distress made her stomach clench.

Did it have to do with the wolf? Had a second wolf slipped past her when her back had been turned to feed the horses? Only that didn’t explain the searing burn coming from her tattoo.

Slowly, she approached the last stall. From a window cut up high in the barn wall, the last remnants of daylight illuminated a crouched figure huddled over the prone body of her goat. She couldn’t see his face but his clothes were dusty and in tatters. He was most likely an illegal immigrant who had crossed the desert border between Mexico and America to seek a better life. A border crosser she could handle.

“Señor,” she spoke to the man softly in Spanish, “please keep your hands where I can see them.” She didn’t see a weapon, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Her tattoo burned red hot as the man turned partially around, so only half his face appeared. Carolina gasped. Even in the dim light, she recognized those features. “Billy? What are you doing here? You son of a bitch!”

She’d fallen for the ranch hand’s pretty face and honeyed words, certain she’d found her forever after. The bastard had lured her into the barn one day and tied her up. By the time she got loose, she’d found he’d disappeared while her parents lay in the desert sand, murdered. Signs of a demon attack had been everywhere.

“How dare you?” she spat at him.

He smiled, a slow stretching of his lips. She despised him. What a fool she’d been.

And then he turned completely around, letting her see him.

Charred skin disfigured one side of his face, while a black, fathomless pit filled one empty eye socket. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Tzitzimime!

Instinctively she chanted an ancient Aztec protection prayer, passed down by her ancestors. Tzitzimime were demons, evil spirits that preyed on the weak, stole their bodies and devoured their souls. All those years ago, Billy must have made a deal with a demon and now he was one. Billy shrieked, a high-pitched sound that agitated the horses, causing them to rear up in their stalls and kick the wood. She chanted louder, taking one step after another closer to the evil being who possessed her former boyfriend’s body. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“In the name of my goddess, leave my land!” Carolina threw out her hand. Upon her birth, the goddess had gifted her with the elemental power of water. The power built, then fizzled, too weak to answer her need. Stupid! She had gone too long without replenishing her water supply. As a guardian of the sacred land of the Tohono O’odham tribe, she knew better than to get into this shape. Overtaxing herself had rendered her unable to protect her goddess.

A large streak of fur barreled past her. A low, menacing growl indicated the wolf had joined her.

Backed into a corner, and with the wolf snapping at his heels, Billy clawed his way up the barn walls. He hissed and spewed black smoke. She needed a source of water and fast. Carolina drew her fingertips across her brow, wiping up the perspiration. She flung the water droplets into the air, capturing the smoke and trapping it.

“Clever trick, Carolina,” the tzitzimime hissed, “but you are weak and I can feel it.”

Billy’s charred jaw dropped to his chest and he let out an ear-piercing shriek. The maniacal sound brought her to her knees. In vain she tried to block the noise with her hands. Pain vibrated in her brain. Her ears rang and nausea churned in her stomach. She peeked over at the wolf to see how it was faring in the attack.

It was gone. In the animal’s place stood a large, equally imposing broad-shouldered man, entirely in the nude.

She sucked in a breath. Her eyes took in the hard, lean muscles, tan skin covered with nicks and scars. A body honed from battle and made to be a weapon.

His head turned and she stared into the golden eyes of the wolf, and for the first time she really tasted fear.

Her head whirling with the implications, she barely heard the whispered command that clothed him in boots and black jeans, but left him bare-chested.

A shadow warrior. A legend.

Her goddess had spoken of the shadow warriors with reverence and fear. A wave of trepidation gripped her. Was the shadow warrior’s presence a coincidence or did the Aztec sun god suspect the truth?

The high-pitched cackle of the demon grounded her.

Speculation would have to wait. Once again, her land and her life were being threatened. Tonight she would fight to protect her home and her secrets.

And, goddess willing, she wouldn’t die while doing it.

“Tzitzimime,” Tomás’s voice boomed inside the barn, “it’s my duty to see you back to where you belong.” The misshapen man spewing poison had once been human—only now the rotted corpse was a vessel filled by the demon’s spirit. The Aztec celestial demons were bent on destroying the world and his god, Huitzilopochtli.

The wolf in him raised its head, snarled and pushed for dominance. Tomás felt it clawing for freedom, the animal dangerously close to the surface. His fingers curled at his sides and the edges of his vision deteriorated. He battled his wolf for control. His body bowed forward, but he fought back.

His wolf retreated, yet Tomás knew they’d be at it again soon. One of these days, he’d lose the battle permanently. Then he would be no better than a tzitzimime, a spirit trapped within another body, traveling the world without purpose, without honor.

The demon made gibberish sounds as he climbed higher up the wall, obviously searching for a way to escape.

“Working together, we can box him in.” The woman’s bell-like tones cut through the demon’s harsh sounds, a soothing balm that touched Tomás’s soul and calmed the beast within.

“Get out of here, cihuatl. I will deal with him.” He didn’t wait to see if the woman obeyed.

With his feet braced apart, one arm raised, he let out a warrior’s cry that filled the night sky. “Macuahuitl!” Into his hand appeared a wooden sword with obsidian blades embedded along the sides, the volcanic flint sharpened to lethal points. He brought his other hand up and two-fisted the four-foot weapon, holding it like a bat just above his shoulder. The macuahuitl could decapitate a horse. Lately, Tomás preferred tearing into demons with claws and teeth and then dragging the broken, evil spirit back to the netherworld. This time, though, he had an audience. The sword produced less gore.

The demon hissed, his mouth a slash in the skin stretched tightly over one half of his skull, a stark contrast to the purity of the right side of his face. Tomás prepared to swing, when he realized the woman had not moved. “Stay back!”

He growled low in his throat. Why hadn’t she done as he ordered? Most humans did as he commanded, his will overriding theirs.

She shocked him further by chanting in the ancient language of his people. The words floated in the air, filling the chamber with power. How had she come by her knowledge? She chanted, her hands up, palms out as she walked directly towards the demon.

Tomás stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Do not!” Fury coursed through him at her recklessness. The move put him too close to the demon. With the woman directly behind him, he didn’t have enough room to maneuver his sword arm.

The demon’s mouth opened, his jaws unhinging like a snake’s, and a stream of fire burst forth. Tomás raised the macuahuitl to protect them both. The heat of the flames still managed to sear his skin as he used his free arm to sweep the woman out of harm’s way and throw them both to the floor. He twisted as they fell, tossing his weapon aside to prevent either of them being sliced open by the blades. He took the brunt of the fall, landing hard on his shoulder.

“Run,” he ordered. She was a distraction and she was in danger every second she spent around the demon.

“Not a chance,” she shot back as she scrambled to her feet. “He’s mine to fight.” Her eyes were wide and round—not with fear, but something else—determination and anger. In all the centuries of his existence, he’d never met a woman as bullheaded as her.

“Woman, move out of the way!”

The demon pounced. Tomás rolled over and kicked out his legs, slamming into the dead man’s ribs. Bone cracked and snapped, but it did little to faze the demon possessing the mortal’s body. As Tomás got to his feet, the demon attacked, slashing with his sharp claws. Tomás felt each jagged nail rip into his gut. Blood spurted and he staggered back.

Billy moved with incredible speed, grasping her neck with a one-handed grip and lifting her up into the air. His hot, foul breath poured over her. Carolina kicked out feebly. She called up her powers, but they were weak and unable to respond. She needed water. And he knew it.

Her breath labored as the tzitzimime squeezed. Clawed fingers sliced through her denim shirt, exposing her tattoo. Dainty and inked with the colors of the Sonoran desert, her hummingbird tattoo began to glow, the light brighter than the moon and twice as hot as the sun. Billy shrieked and tossed her. She hit a stall gate and slid down to the floor. Behind her, she heard a horse kick out, splintering the wooden slats. Something clattered to the ground—the feed bucket from the sound of grains spilling out in a loud whoosh. If she could reach the water bucket, she might have a chance.

She clutched her head and gasped for breath as pain from the knock on her head bounced around her skull. She had to get back up and fight. She had to protect her land. Billy had nearly destroyed her five years ago. His betrayal had cost her the lives of her parents and had almost led to the annihilation of her goddess. The ravages of that fateful day remained evident in the scars on the land, the drying up of large reservoirs of water and the gaping hole in her heart.

Rage flooded her system, giving her the energy to pull herself up from the floor, using the stall gate for support. There’d been lesser demons sniffing around since that day. She should’ve guessed it was in preparation for a big attack. Her mare lashed out again. Carolina had no time to calm the animal. She reached over the stall gate and dipped her hand in the horse’s water bucket hooked to the door. She soaked up the elemental power. Its energy renewed her and she headed once more into battle. She pitched like a baseball player. The demon shrieked and scurried to avoid being hit with the hard, speeding balls of water.

She would make Billy pay. For her parents, for her goddess, for herself, she would see him in hell.

Pain gripped Tomás, and he pressed his hand against the wound. Blood poured through his fingers. He was a warrior and the injury was not life-threatening. He had to secure the demon fast before he caused more damage.

His wolf snarled, moving under his skin, pushing its way up to the surface and blurring his vision. He fought the change. Hurt as he was, in wolf form, Tomás would be unable to control the beast and the wolf spirit did not discriminate. If he succumbed to the wolf, the woman would be in danger. Tomás got to his feet and forced his wolf to retreat temporarily.

The woman stood tall, without fear. As she lobbed water at the demon, she chanted louder, and the air swelled with power. Her words were like music to his ears—he could feel his body move with the rhythm and skill of his ancestors. He grabbed his sword and charged the demon. Raising the weapon above his head, he swung downward. The obsidian blades tore through skin and bone. The tzitzimime’s arm thudded to the ground. The tainted blood that spilled from the severed limb ignited the barn floor. Acrid black smoke rose rapidly, engulfing the barn. The animals panicked.

Water cascaded in an arc above his head and landed on the fire but did little to contain the blaze.

The red-hot inferno licked the sides of the barn. Smoke swirled around them. Tomás turned back to confront his enemy only to find the demon escaping, leaving the severed, bloody arm behind.

“Help me!” The woman had stopped hurling water and was trying to put the fire out with a blanket.

His number one duty was to capture the demon. Five hundred years ago, the Aztec sun god Huitzilopochtli had chosen him to join an elite cadre of warriors, called shadow warriors, to track down and fight evil spirits and to be a shield between humanity and evil. In all these centuries, duty had always come first.

“Please, hurry!”

Her voice pierced his heart, when he hadn’t thought he had a heart left. The beautiful woman with dark eyes pleading for his assistance had somehow claimed a part of his soul that he believed had been all but devoured by his wolf spirit. A small light of humanity remained like a tiny flicker in the distance. His wolf growled, pulling him towards the chase, but Tomás hesitated. He would risk Huitzilopochtli’s wrath with what he was contemplating.

He willed his sword away and ran to her side, and for the first time in centuries, he allowed his enemy to escape.

Chapter Three

Working together, they quickly put out the fire. Ashes and smoke made Carolina’s eyes water and a film of sweat covered her body. She ignored the discomfort. She also ignored the shadow warrior standing nearby. She appreciated his help, but she needed him gone. She turned her attention to the animals still spooked by the tzitzimime and the fire.

She spoke to each one gently before leading the animal outside to the corral. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the shadow warrior. No words left his lips, but she’d swear he communicated to the animals—their submissiveness was most unusual.

She latched the corral gate and took a deep breath. One…no, make that two more to go. A moan hitched in her throat and she hastily swallowed it.

She wanted to cry but refused to give in. Every drop of liquid was precious. She would need her strength if she were to fight the tzizimime again…Billy.

She’d thought that slimy bastard gone, maybe demon food. Now he was back in her life, her worst nightmare revisited, a vivid reminder of her biggest failure and all she still had to lose.

A demon. A shadow warrior. Both on her land. What had drawn them here? She wanted to believe in coincidence, but she wasn’t stupid.

The shadow warrior watched her, his gaze inscrutable. What was he thinking?

Really, it was all too much, she thought as she trudged back to the barn, her silent shadow following in her footsteps. She needed to find a way to make him leave.

Inside the barn, the stench of charred wood filled her nostrils. The electric lamp that hung on the wall cast a stark glare over the damage. It would require hard work and money she didn’t have to restore it. Carolina pushed aside her distress and headed directly for the last stall.

She slipped into the cubicle, found a spot in the hay not soaked in blood and knelt. Tears clogged her throat and swam in her eyes as she looked upon the slain corpse of Tito, her goat. Pepe, his brother, huddled in the far corner, bleating softly.

Memories of the last time she’d had to deal with death overcame her. Images of the broken, mutilated bodies of her parents strewn out on the hot desert floor were forever burned into her mind. She’d barely taken in their mangled condition, a cry torn from her lips, when the demon had pounced. She’d fought him off, but he’d been strong, stronger than any other she had ever fought, the infusion of death in the air lending the demon strength. She would have joined her parents that day had it not been for her goddess joining her in the fight. Carolina pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply, forcing the memories to retreat. She reached down, intending to pick up the lifeless body, when she was brushed aside. Startled, she glanced up to see the shadow warrior squatting beside her.

“Why do you weep for this animal? It is just a beast.”

His tone held no condemnation, but she found herself bristling anyway. “I am not crying. That doesn’t mean Tito—”

“Your soul weeps for him. I can feel it in here.” He thumped his chest.

Anger and grief mixed together. “I raised him from a kid. I won’t let Billy, a tzitzimime, take another family member away from me. Tito was family.”

The shadow warrior nodded, but she sensed that family had little meaning to him, when to her it meant everything.

“You must destroy the carcass. The demon’s blood carries evil that can seep into the ground and spread its poison.”

“I know.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. She was holding on to her control by a thread. Her world felt bleak and desolate. Why had she been chosen as a guardian? Water was supposed to bring life, not destruction. She looked down at the small, helpless animal. Another life lost because she had failed. How much more devastation could she withstand? She reached out to put her hands under the body, only to find them trapped between the shadow warrior’s two larger ones.

“Cihuatl, were you not listening? It is poison.”

Carolina struggled to break free of his grip. She felt the strength in his hands, the roughness that was testament to the work he did. A tingle traveled up her palm and along her nerve endings. The hummingbird on her shoulder pulsated, but it didn’t hurt. Instead, she felt warm and fuzzy like she’d had one too many drinks at the local watering hole. She ignored the throb of her tattoo, glaring at him for all she was worth. “I am not stupid. I know very well what I am doing. And stop calling me woman,” she snapped. “My name is Carolina.”

“You do not fear me, do you? Nor do you cower in the face of a tzitzimime. Yet you are human. Why is that?”

Her breath caught in her chest. He was right. She didn’t fear him. Since the moment he’d stepped onto her land, he had mesmerized her. The heat of his hands warmed the cold thoughts of death and dissipated her anger.

Before she could sputter any kind of response, one of his hands whipped up and pushed the ripped material of her denim shirt aside, where it had been sliced open by the claws of the tzitzimime.

His gaze speared her in place. “You bear the mark of a warrior.”

The glowing mark of a hummingbird on the woman kept him transfixed. He needed to know more about her. In all his years, he had never stumbled upon a human who bore a warrior’s mark and had the power to call on the elements. She wielded water as masterfully as he wielded his weapon.

“You have power, elemental power that I have never seen in a human. Just who are you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice came out low and musical, and he found it arousing.

“You have power over the element of water and you bear a huitzilin, the hummingbird mark. You are no ordinary woman.”

She laughed at that, a melodic sound tinged with sadness. “Believe me, I am quite ordinary. From sunup to sundown I run this ranch. I rarely get into town and the last man I dated was someone I deeply regret.” She went to move, tugging at her hands still trapped within his one.

Tomás kept his grip firm. She had shown no fear or surprise at his appearance nor had she backed down from fighting an evil spirit. She was a puzzle he badly wanted to solve. He also didn’t like hearing about other men. A primitive sense of possessiveness swept over him.

“Tell me your name.” His words came out clipped, harsher than he intended. Thoughts of other men sniffing around her made his muscles tense and put his wolf on alert. He forced himself to relax slowly.

She narrowed her eyes and thrust her jaw out mulishly. “I told you already. Carolina.”

“Carolina.” Her name rolled off his tongue.

“And you are?”

“Tomás.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Somehow I doubt that is your first name, shadow warrior.”

Tomás felt the beast in him rise up in defense. It growled for caution. He paid no heed to the animal’s instinct. He was intrigued.

“How do you know of shadow warriors?” He pushed closer, almost on top of her, the wolf peering out through his eyes.

The woman didn’t back down. She showed strength.

“My mother was from the Tohono O’odham tribe—the people of the desert. She shared many stories about your kind from legends passed down from one generation to the next. Immortal warriors for the sun god, Huitzilopochtli, sent to earth to destroy the celestial demons, tzizimime.”

Tomás nodded. It explained why she had not turned and fled like most humans would have when he transformed from a wolf to a man. The heat of her mark drew him closer, the sensation searing his fingertips. The wolf knew only of survival, but this close to Carolina, the man in him knew of another instinct, a deeper hunger. He wanted to taste her lips and drink in her sweet power, which he could feel washing over him, calming the beast inside. In the five hundred years since giving his soul to Huitzilopochtli, he had never desired to get close to another human as he did with Carolina. He should be chasing a demon, not chasing a woman.

But she wasn’t just any woman. More than ever, he felt he had found his spirit mate.

The wolf pushed at his insides, reminding him that the beast was never far away and that he was never as free as he wished. “You seem to know much about me. But you have yet to tell me who you are.”

There was curiosity in his voice, and respect. His fingers lightly brushed her tattoo and she shivered in response. Her entire body reacted to this man. She didn’t understand any of it and she didn’t like being off balance. She needed time and distance to think.

“I need to tend to my goat.” She nodded towards the goat shaking in the corner.

She scrambled to her feet. This time he let her. She grabbed a lead and attached it to Pepe’s collar, using it to tug the goat out of the barn and into the corral with the others. Its pitiful bleating tore at her heart, reminding her of all she still had to lose if she let herself get distracted.

Tomás emerged from the barn doorway, the bloody corpse of Tito in his arms. She sucked in a breath to contain the pain ripping through her chest. How many of those she loved would she have to lose in this fight?

She shook the thought loose, feeling guilt for even thinking such a thing. Her role as guardian required sacrifice. There was no other way.

As Tomás approached Carolina, she turned on her boot heels and silently headed for a patch of land dominated by a huge juniper tree. Tall and strong, the tree had overseen the birth and death of generations of her people. It had managed to survive despite the scarcity of water, but each day the river dried up and the earth cried out in thirst, and Carolina knew their days were numbered.

She gestured to a spot far enough from the tree that it would not catch fire. Tomás laid his burden down. “I just realized I don’t even have kindling or a light. What was I thinking?” She hiccupped and blindly stared out across the dark desert horizon—anything to avoid looking down at the pet she’d raised from a baby.

“Your pain disturbs me. I do not like it.” As he frowned at her, his body bowed over and reshaped. Under the light of the full moon, Carolina watched in awe, unable to tear her eyes from the ripple of muscles, the incredible transformation taking place in front of her. One minute he was a man and the next he was a large gray wolf.

The wolf stared at her with such directness she felt a shiver rise from her toes and climb all the way up her spine. She backed up, allowing the beautiful beast room. Something in the wolf’s gaze reminded her that at heart it was a predator.

The wolf used its huge paws to dig a pit large enough to lay Tito to rest. Carolina watched, captivated by the animal’s power.

“Thank you.” Overcoming her unease, Carolina reached out her hand to touch the wolf. It laid its ears back and shied away. She dropped her hand to her side.

Carolina made a quick trip to the barn to grab a pair of work gloves she kept by the door and some matches. With her hands protected from the demon’s poison, she put her energy into rolling Tito into the grave. She gathered brush and bits of kindling to throw on top. The wolf aided her by clasping twigs and branches in its teeth and releasing them over the pit. She peeled off the gloves and tossed them in as well. Her fingers trembled as she lit a match and threw it on the wood. She chanted the words of an ancient Aztec prayer, determined to send the soul of her animal companion to a better place. When finished, she bowed her head and fought off the tears. Bathed by the light of the moon, the two of them waited for Tito’s body to be consumed by the flames. On her knees, she continued to pray to her goddess, asking for strength and wisdom in the fight ahead. Vaguely, she became aware of the wolf tossing dirt back into the hole once the fire had died out.

She raised her head and observed the transformation from beast to man. She realized he was again completely nude and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She had never seen a man naked before. Even with the four jagged claw marks marring his stomach, he had the kind of body artists immortalized in paint and clay. Embarrassment crept up into her cheeks.

His gaze rested on her thoughtfully before he clothed himself in black jeans, leaving his chest bare, his entire demeanor speaking loudly of his ease with nudity. She was both relieved and disappointed. Disturbed by her thoughts, she made to get up. Tomás held his hand out to her. She tentatively laid her palm on his and let him help her to her feet.

She’d been prepared for the tingle she’d felt before, not the surge of electricity that shot through her system. His eyes went from amber to golden and she thought she caught the sound of a growl in his throat.

She tried to pull her hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead he tugged her closer until she was scant inches from his chest. His hand slipped behind her neck to cup her nape.

“You are an unusual cihuatl.”

Carolina shook her head, which was difficult given her position. “You persist in saying that, but it is not true. I am a plain, simple woman.”

“There is nothing simple about you. I am determined to learn everything about you.”

“But you can’t—” Carolina cried, only to be cut off by Tomás’s mouth coming down on hers.

Sparks shot through his bloodstream, igniting a fire that could easily blaze out of control. He hadn’t kissed a woman in five centuries. Carnal thoughts had disappeared once he’d joined the ranks of the shadow warriors. Amazingly, those thoughts were now back with a vengeance.

Carolina melted into him.

She wound her arms around his neck. Her lips softened and opened, allowing him to slip inside. She tasted of innocence, determination and strength.

The air around them swirled with energy. The atmosphere crackled with it. Power seemed to move over and around them, weaving a spell they could not escape. Memories of his family, his childhood and his battles as an Aztec warrior flooded his mind in rapid succession, triggering an emotional tidal wave that threatened to engulf them both.

His wolf lunged to the surface, the move aggressive, instinctual and entirely territorial.

The unexpected action broke the spell. Tomás tore his lips away and stepped back from Carolina.

His wolf sought domination. Tomás struggled to keep his beast down.

For a moment the two battled. Tomás clung to the images of his humanity, allowing them to replay in his mind, to provide him with the grounding he needed. His wolf distrusted the changes it sensed happening. It wanted to chase the demon. It wanted to be in control. Tomás threw the power of his will against his beast and demanded obedience.

“What just happened?” Carolina’s voice held concern and a slight hint of fear. His wolf backed down but remained vigilant. Tomás tasted his humanity on his lips—a bittersweet recollection of hardship, battles and occasional glory. His eyes rested on the woman whose kiss had released a storm of memories buried under five hundred years of demon kills.

He had held on all these centuries for her.

Chapter Four

“Who are you?” He sounded abrupt, his gaze fierce upon her.

She held her ground. She wouldn’t let him see how shaken she was. Briefly, before he’d broken the link, she’d felt it—a spiritual bond of some sort. She would have liked to explore it more if she also hadn’t feared where it might lead. She had let Billy get too close, allowed herself to trust him, to believe there could be a future for the two of them, and all along he’d been using her. She’d forgotten her most sacred duty and her entire family had paid the ultimate price. Never again would she let another man into her heart. Never again would she forget that, first and foremost, she was a guardian.

Except Tomás wasn’t like any other man she had ever met. He was a shadow warrior and she needed to exercise double caution where he was concerned.

“I told you. I’m a woman, running this ranch on my own.” She raised her hand and gestured to the acreage surrounding them. “And I need to get back to defending my land.”

“That still does not explain the power you wield.”

“I do not owe you any answers or explanations. Your task is done here. Thank you for your assistance, but it’s time for you to leave.” She turned, intending to walk away, but his hands snaked out, hauling her once more against him, heedless of his wounds.

“Be careful,” she admonished. “You will hurt yourself.” She pointed to the gash across his midsection, guiltily realizing she hadn’t given it a thought when she’d been wrapped up in their kiss. “You need to go clean that up or it will become infected.”

Tomás shrugged. “I have been wounded many times. It will heal. And I do not get infections. That is a human malady. Enough of this nonsense.”

He pressed his nose against the side of her neck and inhaled her scent. Her body grew warmer and heat rose in her cheeks. His chin pressed against her shoulder and the stubble on his jaw scraped along her neck. He nuzzled his face into her hair, nudging her braid aside.

“Tell me, Carolina. What have you done to me?” His breath blew across her exposed skin where the demon had torn her shirt.

His teeth nipped her shoulder. Her tattoo tingled whenever his mouth brushed over the spot. A moan escaped her. Under his touch her tattoo came alive, as if it would fly right off her skin.

She was drowning and not even fighting it. Why were her defenses so easily lowered around this man? She gently put her hands on his shoulders, intending to push him away. She had to stop the madness, but the feel of his bare skin under her hands made rational thought impossible.

She’d never melted over a man, not even Billy. It had taken her months to get up the courage to even talk to Billy. Yet around Tomás she found herself unable to resist the urge to touch him.

One hand held her wrist firm in its grip while the other crept up along her rib cage and over her breast. His hand splayed over her breast, his thumb rubbing lightly over her nipple. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Heat raced along nerve endings, liquid fire that simply needed a tiny spark to set her aflame. His hand left her waist to cup the back of her neck, tilting her head so that she stared directly into eyes that appeared to flash amber, then golden, into a gaze that pulled her into a swirling vortex.

Her spirit, the very essence of her being, rose up, seeking, searching.

At the same time, her tattoo beat against her skin, straining to take flight.

A cry escaped her lips. “What’s happening to me?”

Tomás tightened his grip. “Your spirit calls to mine, Carolina.”

“Tomás,” she groaned, “this is wrong. We have no future. You are a shadow warrior and anything between us would be too complicated.”

“Our spirits recognize one another. You are my spirit mate.” He stifled further protest by bringing his lips down on hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was meant to brand, to mark her in some way as belonging to him. She should push him away, but her hands had minds of their own, smoothing over his muscles, glorying in their feel.

Tomás kissed her jawline as his hands stroked down her shoulders, her arms and her waist. Her tattoo hummed and throbbed. Everywhere he touched, heat licked its way up along her skin.

His hands made quick work of opening her shirt. His gaze narrowed, focused on her shoulder. Her tattoo flared to life, producing a golden beam that wrapped them in a warm cocoon.

“So much power,” he murmured.

His fingers hovered over the symbol before coming down to lightly trace the image. As soon as he touched it, energy and light swirled around them in a rainbow of colors. Within Tomás’s arms, she could only stare in awe.

The energy pulsing on the outside mirrored the heat burning her up inside, rivaling the fire that had threatened her barn.

With a cry of dismay and despair, Carolina wrenched herself away. The energy and light show disappeared as if she’d pulled the plug. She scrambled away from Tomás and hurriedly fastened her buttons. This was all wrong. She had forgotten her duty. Had given no thought to the one being she was sworn to protect.

Tomás had said she had power. But his was far greater and more dangerous—for he had power over her soul.

“You have to leave,” she said with determination.

He paid her no heed. Under full moonlight, he easily discerned the hummingbird carefully inked in hues of red, orange and yellow upon Carolina’s shoulder. He’d felt the energy reverberating off her.

“The hummingbird tattoo is given to only a chosen few—those honored to serve Huitzilopochtli.” He reached out and his finger stroked the mark through the torn material.

She shivered. A deep male satisfaction settled over him knowing that his touch affected her.

“I have had this since I was born. It started as a birthmark, but when I hit puberty it began to change, taking on these hues and reshaping into a hummingbird. It certainly does not make me a warrior.”

“Why do you deny it? You are filled with power.”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “I am not going to have this discussion with you. Just go.”

“You are a warrior,” he insisted, frustrated with her refusal to acknowledge the truth.

Carolina shook her head. “I’m not a warrior for the Aztec sun god.”

He pulled himself up to his full height. Her spirit proved most stubborn. “Demons are not alive. They are evil spirits that take over bodies and destroy souls. Without warriors, humanity would not survive against them. You,” he said pointedly, “do not have a great deal of experience despite your skill. The demon that attacked us is more powerful than any other I have fought in over five hundred years. You cannot handle this alone. Besides, it is my duty to remain as long as there is a demon close by.” His beast raised its head and growled in agreement. The thought of the demon putting its foul hands on Carolina made his fingers curl.

“I don’t need your protection. I can take care of myself.”

“Not anymore.” He kept his tone implacable. There would be no discussion. Her spirit called to his. A claim had been made. She was his spirit mate and she had better get used to his presence.

She stared back at him defiantly, her expression fierce, like an ancient priestess. The memory of a priestess from his village of old rolled through his head. He wanted to howl in celebration at the unexpected gift, the ability to recall memories he’d long believed faded from his mind.

As Huitzilopochtli’s elite solider, he had watched the ranks of the shadow warriors decrease as his brethren fell in battle. Less than half remained, and with each passing day, more of his kind were destroyed, their souls consumed by each demon kill they made, their humanity lost for all time.

He’d been surviving day by day until he’d met this woman.

He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet. “I’m not leaving you alone. There’s a demon out there targeting you. It’s going to have to get through me first.”

“You can’t stay.” Anger and fear flashed across her features.

Tomás studied Carolina, wishing he could get inside her head. Why did she want him gone so badly? What secrets did she hide?

“You knew the demon. You called him by name. And he…he recognized you. Who is he?” The thought of her and the demon together made his insides twist. His wolf responded to the rising aggression within him and pushed towards the surface. Tomás firmly pushed his beast back under control as he waited for her answer.

“Billy used to work on this ranch, that’s all.” Her eyes slid from his, making him think it was not all. “He must have made a bargain with a demon,” she continued, “because he was behind the trap set for my parents, the one that killed them.” This time she faced him squarely. “I can handle this. I don’t care what Billy has become or how strong he is. I will defeat him.”

Tomás contemplated the quiet confidence in her voice. He didn’t doubt that she thought she could deal with the situation, but he had several lifetimes of experience to draw upon. If a demon had struck a bargain with Billy to target Carolina and her land, there was a reason. He thought of the second part of the mission Huitzilopochtli had entrusted him with—to find out why the demons kept targeting this area.

He was a patient man. He had waited centuries, and now that he had found his spirit mate, he wasn’t going anywhere. He would get answers.

She stared at him, her eyes filled with pain, sadness and resignation. “I want you to go. Truly, I appreciate your assistance, but it is best you leave.”

Tomás shook his head. “That I cannot do.”

“Why not?”

“The demon will be back.”

“I need to check on the animals.” It was an excuse. She really needed to get away, to put some distance between them.

“Do not stray far from the corral. I will check the perimeter to see if the demon left a trail.”

Who did he think he was? She fumed over his arrogance and high-handedness as she stalked away. Deep down, though, she admitted one truth to herself—she would love to lean on him for strength. He had called her his spirit mate. She had never heard the term before, but it made her feel secure. Since the death of her parents, she had been taking care of the ranch and protecting it alone. What would it be like to share the burden of responsibility with another? She had once believed that the local boy her father had hired as a ranch hand would be that kind of partner. He had been so keen to learn her ways. Her selfish desires had blinded her to the black heart he held within his chest.

And once more, desires were manipulating her emotions. She steeled herself and gave herself a mental slap. No man, not even an immortal warrior of Huitzilopochtli was going to take her off her game. She had failed her parents and her ancestors, and there was no do over. She’d picked herself up after that dreadful day and glued the pieces of her heart and soul back together. She would never risk them again and she would never forget that she was all that stood between her goddess and the forces bent on destroying the deity completely.

She also didn’t know whether to believe him about the tattoo. Why would the Aztec sun god mark her?

She had thought the tattoo a gift from her goddess. It warned her when evil approached. She considered it a mark of protection. The first time it had saved her, she had gone to her goddess—the water goddess Chalchiuhtlicue—and thanked her. Chica, as she fondly called her goddess, had appeared troubled, but had never explained further.

Carolina needed answers. She stopped by the corral, checking the animals once more. They were skittish. They sensed the dark, malevolent forces that were gathering. She felt the energy as well. It prickled her senses and heightened her awareness.

She hurried to the well situated about a hundred yards from her back door. Carolina lowered the bucket carefully down the dark shaft, ignoring the trembling of her hand. She brought the bucket up, making sure not to spill a single drop. She sang a chant of protection. Dipping her fingers into the clear, cool water, she flung the drops in a circle, to the east, the south, the west and lastly to the north. She unhooked the bucket from the rope and placed it in the middle of the protected circle. She sank down to the earth and stared at the surface of the water.

“Chica, I have come with news.” She spoke softly, not wanting the wind to carry her words. The last thing she needed was Tomás overhearing.

The water rippled and settled to reveal the serene face of a woman with long, dark hair and eyes as old as time. “I felt the disturbance of evil, my daughter.”

“A tzitzimime attacked this evening. It was Billy. It seems it wasn’t enough to help murder my parents. Now he is back and has become another vile soldier in the ranks of the tzitzimime.”

“You defeated him?”

“No, he is quite strong, but we fought him off.”

“We?” The word came out sharp, causing the placid surface of the water to ripple.

“He calls himself Tomás. He is a shadow warrior.”

“A shadow warrior!” The water clouded, and with only the moonlight providing illumination, Carolina strained to see her goddess’s face. The water swirled in the bucket. “You must get rid of him. His loyalty naturally lies with my husband. He would be duty-bound to report my presence and I would no longer be safe.”

“I will send him away, I promise. He will not learn about you from me.”

“You and your family have always protected me, daughter. You have my gratitude.”

Her heart squeezed. It humbled her that Chica still believed in her abilities.

“It has always been our honor.” Carolina took a deep breath before plunging ahead. “Chica, Tomás says my tattoo is the mark of your husband. Why would I bear the hummingbird tattoo of the Aztec sun god? I thought you had gifted me with the mark…” She let her voice trail off.

“The mark is a sign that you are a guardian. It is bestowed on those fated to work on the side of justice, goodness and light.” Chica sighed. “I have always known this day would come.”

The water stirred and shaped into the lovely face of Chica again. Two sparkling droplets shimmered on her cheeks. “Many moons ago, I fled the city of the gods because there was a clash between good and evil. It happened about the same time as the fall of the Aztec Empire. With humans no longer revering us, we were thrown into chaos. The goddess Itzpaplotl, leader of the tzitzimime, wanted to kill my husband—the sun god, the most powerful of all gods—and any who stood in her way. She continues to this day. Should she succeed, she would blanket the world in darkness so she could rule over the earth and spread her evil everywhere.”

Chica’s face became pensive and she lapsed into silence. When she didn’t offer further explanation, Carolina prompted her, “But why did you flee?”

When she was growing up, her parents had forbidden her from bothering the goddess. They often reminded her that it was not their place to question the actions of the gods. Their role as guardians was to protect and serve. And after her parents had been murdered, Carolina had her hands full keeping up with the ranch and defending against attacks. It seemed a good idea now to finally learn the truth, or as much of the truth with which Chica would willingly part.

Chica sighed, a sound that whispered over the breeze. “I was foolish. I heard of a golden chalice hidden deep in a cave near a subterranean river. Legend said that water drunk from the chalice would open doors to the past and the future. Can you imagine?”

“It would bring incredible power,” Carolina murmured.

“Yes, it would. I was determined to find it. You see, we had only been married a short time when it all began to fall apart. My brother Tlaloc, the rain god, urged me to escape to safety with him. I refused. I thought if I could learn of the future perhaps I could assist my new husband in some way. I searched until I discovered the cave and the chalice, exquisite in its artistry, so delicate in form. My hand actually trembled as I filled it with the clear, running water beneath the earth. And I drank.”

“Did it work? Did the doors of the past and future open to you?” Carolina held her breath as she waited.

Anguish crossed Chica’s features. “I saw my husband slain, his lifeless body pumping out blood. Above him, I saw myself standing with a dagger, his blood covering me as I smiled.” Her voice broke. “I cried out, threw the chalice and ran. I never looked back. I could not take the chance that I would be the instrument of my husband’s destruction. Eventually, I found your family. One of your ancestors bore my husband’s mark. I knew I could find protection and safety here. And so it has been until now. Scarce though it is, I listen to the murmurs of the water, which touches this land, and I hear things.”

“Hear what? I don’t understand. What does any of this have to do with my tattoo?”

“Throughout the ages, all of your family members have done their best to keep me safe, but none have borne the mark of the hummingbird other than that first ancestor and you. The tattoo is a beacon of light, a symbol that not only are you on the side of good, but that you have been chosen for a special role. Yet I fear evil forces are conspiring against us. The darkness is pressing in. I can feel the battle drawing nearer and should Itzpaplotl and her band of tzitzimime prevail, we are doomed. My husband and his shadow warriors are all that stand in defense of humanity. If my husband perishes, we are lost. I cannot take the chance that what I saw in the vision will come true. The shadow warrior must leave. He must never know that I am here on this land. You must do this for me, daughter.”

“I won’t let him take you and I will protect you from Billy. We will survive.”

The water rippled and cleared. Her water goddess no longer appeared visible. Carolina put a hand to her mouth to stifle the cry that wanted to escape. How long could she keep up the battle on her own? Day by day, the water dried up, weakening both her and her goddess.

She couldn’t let Chica be found. But how could she protect her?

She shook her head, refusing to give in to despair. Too much depended on Chica’s survival and on keeping her secret. Whatever it took, even at the cost of Carolina’s own life, she would not let the demon or Tomás rule the day.

Chapter Five

The blood trail crisscrossed the edge of Carolina’s property and then disappeared into the desert. Man and beast stared out across the horizon and contemplated the wisdom of giving chase. His wolf wanted to pursue. Tomás could feel the pressure from his animal spirit to follow the scent before it grew cold. Tomás pushed back, forcing his wolf to submit. To follow the demon would mean leaving Carolina unprotected.

His wolf snarled as if asking why this human was important, more important than staying on mission. Tomás scanned the desert brush, the dips and sandy mounds that made up the landscape, unwilling to lay out his need for this one woman—it was too new, too raw.

The predator within him remained vigilant, canine senses attuned to its surroundings. Tomás inhaled deeply, separating out the smells of the various desert creatures, searching for the one so evil that all would flee in his path. He had wounded the demon with his sword. He had sliced off the tzitzimime’s arm. Unless the demon returned to his god, he would be unable to regenerate his limb. Tomás wanted to believe the demon would drag his sorry ass back to the celestial hell from which it fell to lick his wounds, but Tomás’s gut said the demon was out there, waiting, watching and looking for an opening to attack. This demon had been chosen specifically because of his connection to Carolina. He’d wormed his way into her family and possibly her heart, and then attempted to destroy it all.

But why?

Tomás turned his head to take in the ranch house, yard and barn. What was it about this place that drew the demon? Was it Carolina or something else? Huitzilopochtli must already suspect something, otherwise why order Tomás to scout the area?

He felt torn and didn’t like the feeling.

He thought of the day Huitzilopochtli had gathered all the shadow warriors around him. They had suffered several losses within their ranks and had been disheartened. Ever since the fall of the Aztec Empire, not a single new soul had joined their ranks. Their numbers grew smaller, while the tzitzimime grew bolder. Making matters worse, each shadow warrior struggled with his animal spirit, aware that with each demon kill a piece of his humanity died with it. It was a never-ending vicious cycle for their immortality. They were obligated to fight to protect humanity, but the price they paid was high.

The Aztec sun god towered above them, blue paint streaking his face and body, eagle feathers in a headdress. Gold bands circled his arms, and around his neck he wore a necklace of turquoise and jade—a gift from his wife, the goddess of water. Even after she disappeared during the turmoil of the Aztec Empire’s destruction, Huitzilopochtli refused to remove it. In his right hand he carried a spear decorated with serpents and in his left a shield of feathers tipped in gold. On his shoulder perched a hummingbird.

The sun god’s voice boomed over the heads of the gathered warriors. He spoke of a chalice that had granted him a vision of the future. The battles ahead would grow more difficult and fierce and more warriors would perish, but they must continue for there was hope. Greater strength and power would be bestowed upon the shadow warriors if they could find their spirit mates, a woman whose spirit would bond with each warrior’s soul. Once the bond was complete, a warrior need never fear succumbing to his animal side.

Huitzilopochtli had disappeared before questions could be asked. The warriors had talked amongst themselves excitedly. For a while, they had had hope. Over time and with more death and destruction, hope had slowly seeped away.

Until now—until the moment he held Carolina in his arms and discovered his spirit mate.

He owed allegiance to his god. He owed his soul to Carolina.

Carolina carried the bucket to the well and gently poured the water back with a prayer of thanks. When she was done, she headed for her small ranch house.

Where was Tomás? She had to get him off her land. But how? She couldn’t exactly push him off—physically, the man was built like a mustang. She could try to coax him off, but she didn’t want to make him suspicious. Besides, every time she got close to the warrior she felt herself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. What was it about him that she couldn’t resist? He’d offered to stay and protect her. She’d turned him down, but it hadn’t seemed to make a difference. He was stubborn and hell-bent on killing the demon. Which made her wonder—was he here only because of the tzitzimime or had he somehow discovered that Chica was hidden on this land?

She walked forward, her eyes searching the darkened landscape for signs of trouble. Her tattoo flared hot with burning pain at the same time movement brought her head around sharply. A shadow detached itself from her toolshed.

Mouth dry, Carolina watched Billy stalk towards her. The man—or what was left of him—swaggered forward, a twisted smile upon his once-angelic face. But she wasn’t fooled—his bloody stump of an arm made a gruesome reminder of their earlier encounter.

“Little Carolina. I see you remember me. I have that effect on women.” He let loose a cackle that sent chills down her spine.

“You disgust me.” She took a step back, careful to avoid his black gaze. Staring directly into a demon’s eyes gave them an opening into the soul. The thought of Billy touching her in any way sickened her.

“There once was a time you thought I was cute.”

“You used me. Tricked me and killed my parents.” She could feel the tears clogging in her throat. All the hatred and hurt bubbled up inside her chest. “I’ll see you burn in hell before you deceive me again.”

This time his laugh was sharp and bitter. He spat out venom as he shouted, “I am already in hell. Damn demons repaid me for my service by consuming my body. Now the only way to be human again is to give them what you denied them last time. Where is Chalchiuhtlicue, goddess of water? Tell me or die!”

In the moonlight, it was easy to see the sly twist to Billy’s lips. “You will kill me anyway, so you get nothing!”

He screeched in anger. Carolina reached for her power, gathering energy, waiting for the right moment.

“The water on your land will dry up, every single drop. You and your goddess will die a hideous death.” Spittle flew from Billy’s mouth. Red flames danced in his eyes. “Once your goddess is gone, my master will rule this world and I will be free.”

He opened his mouth wide and let loose a ball of flame at the same moment Carolina called up the element of water.

The two elements met halfway. The combination burst into steam. Billy screamed, a high-pitched sound that pierced Carolina’s ears, shattering her concentration. He lunged and knocked her to the ground. His foul, hot breath seared her while the claws of his only hand clasped her throat.

She would fight to the death.

She narrowed her eyes, focusing, and built up energy for one last gamble. Before she could release it, Billy flew off her.

She turned her head. The magnificent golden-eyed wolf, its fur shining silver in the moonlight, stood large and imposing between her and their enemy. The wolf snarled and bared its deadly white fangs at the demon. Without thought, she placed her hand on the wolf’s pelt and felt the hard, sinewy muscle below the surface. The animal turned its head ready to snap, but didn’t. Instead it backed up next to her and maintained its protective pose.

His wolf had scented the taint of evil that crept over the land. It had growled in fury, demanding to be let loose. Tomás had obliged, protecting Carolina uppermost in his mind.

Tomás went in low and fast, sinking his canines into the demon’s flesh. He ignored the creature’s foul odor and tainted blood as he clamped down hard, crushing bone. The monster yowled, an unearthly sound better suited to the bowels of celestial hell.

The demon struck one-handed with its claws, gouging Tomás’s side. His jaws remained firmly locked on the demon’s thigh. He used his massive weight to push the tzitzimime down to the ground.

Pain shot through his body. Claws continued to dig into his side. He could feel each pointed tip twisting and slicing his insides. His grip loosened. The momentary hesitation cost him.

The demon lifted his upper torso and bit down on Tomás’s neck.

Tomás arched his body, sharp, stabbing pain rocketing through him. The demon clamped down hard on the wolf’s neck while his claws continued to tear at his insides.

Water blasted out of the air and sprayed the creature directly in the face, knocking the demon flat on its back.

Tomás leapt away, blood from his wounds soaking his fur.

Sides heaving, he stared at the malevolent creature, waiting for another chance. From his peripheral vision, he saw Carolina standing, feet braced apart, her hands in the air.

The demon began twirling, faster and faster, kicking up sand and gravel. Tomás backed up, but sand and pebbles flew at him, hitting him in the face, the eyes, forcing him to retreat with his head down. He heard Carolina’s short cry. He tried to go to her, the protective urge strong, but the dust storm fought his every step.

Tomás stumbled and went down. The wind suddenly ceased. His eyes hurt from the grains of sand embedded in them, forcing him to use his sense of smell.

Amidst the desert odors floated the pure scent of sunshine and water, of Carolina.

“The tzitzimime is gone.” She spoke softly, but he could sense the tension in her voice. “We have to get you inside.”

His beast snarled in disagreement. His wolf wanted to chase after the demon. Tomás growled him down. They were injured and needed rest before tracking such a powerful opponent. His wolf subsided. Tomás forced himself up on four shaky legs. Badly injured, he limped. The battle had taken its toll and after only a few steps, he collapsed onto his side.

Her hands touched him and stroked his coat. Carolina’s melodious voice perked his ears. She chanted in the ancient language, and water sloshed over his wounds, washing away the poison.

Warmth spread through his body, bathing his wounds and his soul. His wolf retreated, bringing on the change. He lay there, the cold earth beneath him, his ribs aching, and stared up at the night sky.

Carolina blocked his vision, hovering above him, concern etched on her brow. “You can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. Let me help you.” She put her arm beneath his shoulder and assisted him to a sitting position. Her touch was light, like that of a bird poised for flight.

Tomás sucked in a breath. The pain was manageable, and with his body’s healing ability, it would soon disappear. He had other, more important matters to focus on. “It was foolish of you to take on the tzitzimime alone. He is strong and determined.”

Carolina bristled and dropped her arm, so that cool air touched his skin.

“I am no stranger to the tzitzimime. I am not afraid to defend myself or my land.”

“Annihilate this one and more will come.” He reached out and clasped her arm. She stared down at his grip, fury in her gaze. “Every soul they gather makes them stronger. I cannot allow them to steal your spirit.”

She yanked her arm away. “I’m going into the house. You are welcome to rest inside until you are healed, but then I want you off my property.” She strode away, her spine rigid, her long braid bouncing against her back.

“You did not listen well to your mother’s stories,” he called out.

She paused, looking at him over her shoulder. “What did I not learn from her?”

He got to his feet and approached until they stood nearly nose to nose. “Shadow warriors may protect humans, but for every demon’s soul they destroy, they also lose a piece of their own humanity. A warrior’s only hope is a spirit mate.”

“My mother never spoke of spirit mates. What does it mean?”

He reached out and lightly touched her cheek. “Carolina, you’re my spirit mate. My salvation. The only one who can save me from losing myself to the wolf.”

“I can’t be your spirit mate.” Her eyes widened.

He brushed his hand along her jaw to her shoulder, resting it upon her tattoo. The hummingbird fluttered under his palm. “You can’t deny my touch.”

Carolina pulled free and clasped a hand over her tattoo. Whirling away, she fled into the house.

Tomás watched her go. Her stubbornness made no difference. Piece by piece, he was discovering his humanity—proof that Carolina was his spirit mate. Now that he had found her, he wasn’t about to let her get away.

Chapter Six

Carolina stormed into the house, riding the waves of anger rolling through her. It seemed safer than touching on the other emotions Tomás produced inside her.

She’d naturally been concerned about the gouges in his side, until she touched him and her body betrayed her. His bare skin beneath her hands ignited her desire, flooded her with want and need to satisfy a thirst she had never encountered before.

Then that statement—You’re my spirit mate.

Just thinking the words made her shiver in reaction. She knew she was susceptible to him and was grateful he’d given her an excuse to snatch her arm away. She’d been close to behaving like some love-starved teenager—running her hands all over him, pressing her body up against his and asking for things she had never asked of any man.

How could she have forgotten so quickly her duty, her promise to Chica?

She stood inside her bedroom, her hands on her flaming cheeks, willing herself to get a grip. She needed to change. She still wore the shirt Billy had ripped. The idea that she could have ever been attracted to that slimeball made her cringe. She needed to take a shower. Quickly, she unbuttoned her shirt, took it off and threw it in a woven hamper in the corner.

She turned and inhaled sharply.

Tomás leaned against the doorjamb. She’d never heard him enter the house. Her eyes flicked up and down his body, noting the nearly healed wounds on his ribs, and of more significance, the incredible hard-on he didn’t bother to hide. She should have turned away, but she couldn’t resist the chance to look upon his magnificently sculpted body. More amazing to her was the feral smile he wore. He stared at her breasts encased in a peach lace bra. His eyes flared with heat and hunger.

“Um,” she said, licking her lips as she tried to pull her scattered thoughts together, “you took a wrong turn. This is my bedroom. The living room is through that door.”

“I have no interest in your living room.”

“Well, then, what do you want?” she asked desperately. She could feel his eyes devouring her. Embarrassed and feeling exposed, she crossed her arms over her chest. The lace scraped against her swollen breasts, puckering her nipples, and she wondered what it would feel like to have Tomás’s hands on her. The image of his mouth suckling her proud but small breasts sent a shot of desire straight between her legs.

He walked towards her with purpose in his step, like a predator that had spotted prey. She sucked in a breath, aware she was definitely the prey.

She should move. Run away. He was a shadow warrior, one whose loyalty naturally ran in conflict to hers.

But she couldn’t move. Her feet were glued to the hardwood floor.

He reached her and took her shoulders in his hands. He leaned in and whispered, “Breathe.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. Air left her in a soft puff. “What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered, somehow unable to make her vocal chords work louder.

“So much power here,” he murmured as his thumb rubbed softly over her hummingbird tattoo.

She could feel the brand on her shoulder respond, tingling below the surface of her skin. The more he rubbed the mark, the more she sensed something in her responding, reaching outward.

His hand captured her chin and lifted it so that she had no choice but to meet the intensity of his gaze. “You have intrigued me since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“I keep telling you I’m nobody special. I’m simply a woman willing to fight for her beliefs.”

Tomás shook his head, never taking his eyes from hers. “You are more than you say. You are the woman meant to save my soul.”

His lips touched hers and her bones turned to liquid. Her hands clutched his shoulders and her breasts pressed against his chest as she leaned into him and the kiss.

Her parents had loved her, but they’d had each other, the bond between them so strong that Carolina sometimes felt left out. Billy had never loved her. She had only been a tool to him. Her goddess needed her, but she treated Carolina with a reserve she had never shown Carolina’s parents. With Tomás she sensed it was different. Now, here was a man, a shadow warrior, telling her she was meant to save his soul, that he needed her. It was like water to parched earth. She soaked it up, every last drop.

The rational side of her saw the danger, warned her, but his kisses made her head spin, and somewhere deep inside the connection she’d felt the first time they kissed took root and sprouted. Thoughts of resistance faded. She would take the risk and she would accept the consequences.

She tasted of honey, nectar so sweet he found himself sipping from her mouth over and over. She felt soft and pliant in his arms, but he knew there were muscles of steel underneath. This woman was a warrior, strong and beautiful as the hummingbird on her shoulder.

Ihuitzil. His hummingbird.

A surge of possessiveness flowed through him, stoking the flames of passion. He deepened the kiss, tightening his hold on her. He hadn’t held a woman in centuries, had forgotten the pleasure of caressing another’s skin.

He took the straps of her bra and pulled them partway down her arms until her breasts spilled free. He nearly groaned at the sight. He bent down and suckled one dark, rosy tip and then the other. He heard the soft sound she made in her throat and it enflamed him further. She was made for him, this woman.

Her hands moved over his shoulders, his biceps. He loved the feel of her skin touching his. He moved up and traced the lines of her hummingbird tattoo with his tongue. She squeezed his muscles, whimpering with each flick of his tongue. Ruthlessly he laved the area, unable to believe how sensitive she was in this one spot, until she went rigid and screamed his name.

Tomás didn’t give her time for thought. He worked the buttons of her jeans open and shoved them down her legs. She kicked them off, standing before him in only her panties and the bra still clasped around her midriff. For a moment, he soaked in her beauty, took in the curve of her slender hips and the long legs that he couldn’t wait to have wrapped around his torso.

She blushed and tilted her head down. Her hands fluttered in front of her breasts, and a rosy flush spread beneath her skin. He captured her hands and pressed them to his lips. He took each finger and sucked on it one by one.

“Tomás, I never…” Her voice trailed off.

She was a virgin. A deeper respect for her settled over him. Her gift was his honor. The alpha male in him demanded that he brand her in every way.

He gently moved her hands up his torso, splaying her fingers over his heart. “You did this to me. Can you not feel it?”

“Yes.” Her breath came out in a ragged sigh. Her fingers slid down his torso and lightly ran over his swollen manhood. His mouth went dry.

Tomás leaned in closer, letting her explore and squeeze him. With each touch, the pressure built, setting his blood on fire. The need to plunge himself into her wetness drove him mad with desire. Unable to take it any longer, he stopped her, walking her backwards ’til her knees hit the edge of the bed and she toppled down. He followed after her, capturing her mouth, completely enraptured by the slumberous passion he read in her eyes.

He tore the panties off her, the flimsy material easily giving way to his strength. She wriggled out of her bra, while his fingers sought her secrets.

She broke free of his kiss. He saw passion war with uncertainty. A rosy hue dusted her cheeks and she bit down on her lips when he inserted one finger inside her.

“You are so tight,” he groaned, holding himself in check when he wanted so badly to thrust inside her until she wrung him dry. He had gone centuries without a woman. How had he forgotten the beauty of a woman’s touch, the sounds she made, the feel of her skin against his own?

“Tomás, please,” Carolina murmured, but the protest seemed halfhearted as he worked her with his fingers, stretching her, readying her. He watched her as her head started shifting from side to side, her eyes glazing over as a soft sheen of sweat covered her body.

With his free hand he reached up to roll her nipple between his fingers, enjoying the way it made her move even more restlessly.

“Tomás,” she moaned. Her hips arched up, begging for more of his attention. Her nectar flowed over his fingers. Her passion and arousal moved him as nothing had in centuries.

He rose up and once again touched her tattoo with the tip of his tongue. “My spirit mate, give yourself over to me.”

As he bathed the small mark, he felt power surge between them. His skin pulsated with tidal waves of warmth. Her skin glowed wild with the colors of the Sonoran desert. Ruthlessly, he nipped and licked the tiny area, aware of the buildup in energy with each touch of his tongue. Carolina screamed, her back arching off the bed, the orgasm ripping through her. Tomás could wait no longer. He pushed into her, barely hesitating when he came to the thin barrier of resistance. He pushed past it, waiting for her to adjust to his size, but power thrummed in them, around them, and Carolina urged him on, rising up to meet him. He started slowly, then, unable to stop himself, pounded into her. He made her come again before he allowed himself to spill his seed inside. Gold lights burst around them, and for one brief moment, he felt as if he touched her soul, as if enough of his humanity remained to be claimed by her.

For that alone, he could love her.

Chapter Seven

Carolina jolted awake. The early rays of dawn blazed red-orange through the white curtains gracing her window. Something felt off. Her hand brushed against solid muscle and she turned to stare at the man in her bed.

She’d never shared her bed with anyone. She’d never had sex before. Her body heated at the memory of the carnal dance they had done last night. She wondered if Tomás was the reason for her hummingbird burning.

Her eyes lingered over his broad shoulders, the dark hair that spilled around them and the sharp, hard angles of his face. He was a shadow warrior, a man on a mission, with the scars and nicks marking his body to prove it. Her core heated, but it was a different warmth, one that made her want to crawl back under the covers with him and indulge her wildest fantasies.

Her tattoo itched and she touched the marking that Tomás had reverently inspected last night along with every other inch of her skin. He called the hummingbird a gift from Huitzilopochtli, the mark of a warrior.

Carolina had wanted to tell him the truth—that she was guardian to the sun god’s wife, Chalchiuhtlicue. Was this what Chica had feared? That Carolina would weaken and betray her goddess in the heat of passion? The temptation to confide in Tomás burned inside her. Last night, for the first time since her parents’ death, she hadn’t felt the immense burden of protecting the ranch alone. In his arms, she let the rest of the world slide away and allowed herself to believe that she could be loved. He had called her his spirit mate, and a connection of spirits was how it felt.

Still, she knew so little about Tomás, other than his being a shadow warrior. Was it the tzitzimime that had brought Tomás to her ranch or a different kind of mission? Did he know about Chica? Was the Aztec sun god searching for his wife?

Chica had warned her to never again let a man distract her. Fear crept up, replacing the warmth of lying beside Tomás and turning it into a cold ball of dread in the pit of her stomach. What if Tomás was nothing more than another Billy? Her heart told her it couldn’t be true but her head wouldn’t let the notion go.

She wanted to wake Tomás. Demand to know the truth and find out what had brought him to her ranch. But Carolina didn’t know if her heart could handle the truth.

She owed her family, all those before her who had lived and died to protect her goddess. Chica believed that if she were found by her husband, the vision she had seen would come to pass. Chica wanted Tomás gone. Yet, looking down upon his face, Carolina recognized that her body and heart wanted him to stay. For a brief moment he chased away the loneliness and violence that filled her world. He created a taste of paradise filled with beauty and desire instead of monsters and death.

Her heart battled with logic. And what if Tomás was here only for the demon? How would she handle it when he walked away, leaving her once again alone?

Gazing upon the handsome, chiseled warrior lying peacefully in her bed, her heart squeezed and her tattoo throbbed in pain.

Would it truly be so bad to confide in him?

Like it or not, she needed Chica’s counsel. She quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a cotton top and stole quietly out of the room.

She opened the back door and was hit by a blast of hot wind carrying evil’s scent. Her tattoo burned deep to the bone. In the distance, she saw fire. “Chica!”

Before she could take a step, she was grabbed from behind.

“Let me go!” Adrenaline pumped through her body as she fought Tomás’s hold. She had to save her goddess.

He spun her around and tightened his grip, his face inches away from hers. “What is going on? The truth, this time. Now!”

Tomás had snapped awake, his wolf alerting him to the taint of evil in the air. A swift glance revealed Carolina was gone from the bed.

He caught her just before she could run off towards the burning sky and cursed himself for not sensing the danger earlier.

She struggled in his arms, a complete change from last night when she had been all liquid heat and passion, her gaze filled with desire. Now he saw fear and rage and the need to protect secrets. “What is it you hide? I will destroy any threat to you.”

She twisted out of his grip. “It is my job to protect Chica. I am her guardian.”

“Who is Chica?”

“Why did you really come, Tomás? Were you really chasing the tzitzimime or did you seduce me because you were after Chalchiuhtlicue all along?” Tears built up in her eyes and spilled down the sides of her cheeks. She swiped at them, the liquid getting absorbed into her fingertips.

“The water goddess is here?” His head spun with her accusations. Anger replaced his confusion. He took a step towards her, backing her up against the open door.

“I am no friend of the tzitzimime. I am a shadow warrior of Huitzilopochtli—my mission in the afterlife is to destroy demons and protect humanity. If you knew Chalchiuhtlicue was on your land, why did you not tell me?”

The implications were astounding. The goddess of water and wife to the sun god had fled centuries ago, soon after their wedding, without explanation. Huitzilopochtli had been searching for her ever since. “If the demon gets Chalchiuhtlicue, then all the water on the earth will dry up. Life will be doomed.”

“I, too, have a duty. My family has guarded Chica for centuries, from father to son, mother to daughter. Above all else, I am sworn to protect her. You, as a shadow warrior, can understand.”

He did understand, but that didn’t lessen his anger. Her soul called out to his. They had connected. Pieces clicked into place.

Carolina’s power over the element of water. Her secretiveness. She was a guardian, protector of the water goddess, Chalchiuhtlicue, wife to Huitzilopochtli. Every last remaining shred of his humanity had believed she was his spirit mate. He had been wrong. Last night she had given her body completely over to him, but not her trust.

“You were right. You cannot be my spirit mate. Spirit mates are a bond of body and of soul. It is a bond of complete trust.” He pushed her aside and stepped outside, ready to do battle. “I have to go kill the demon.”

Caroline rushed behind him. “I’m coming with you.”

“No!” he growled. The wolf stared her down. Tomás sensed the animal within him right at the surface, ready to break loose. Fury at his own foolish hope to reclaim his humanity overrode his judgment, allowing the beast to dominate. “Cihuatl, you have caused enough trouble. Had you trusted me, the goddess would never have been left unprotected.”

Fur and flesh melded and rippled over his body, bones snapped and reshaped. He fell to the floor on all fours. He raised his nose to the air, dragging in the acrid smell of smoldering death.

Tomás took one last look at Carolina. The wolf dragged his attention back to the desert. He howled and bounded off to the fiery hell ahead of him.

Cihuatl. Woman. He hadn’t called her Carolina. She ran to her mare, Mariposa, and led her out of the corral. She swung herself atop the horse and, grabbing a handful of mane, took off bareback after Tomás.

The tears she’d dried up trickled down again. She’d stupidly let herself fall into the fantasy of having it all. She’d known from the start that she and Tomás came from different worlds. She’d made such a mess of things. She’d failed Chica and herself. How could she call herself a guardian when she couldn’t even guard her own heart?

Was Tomás right? Should she have trusted him despite her doubts, despite Chica’s warnings? She didn’t know anything anymore. Crying was useless. She wasn’t going to waste another precious drop of water. She would save Chica like she had always done, and then she would go back to being what she knew best—an ordinary woman.

His wolf charged across the hot desert sand. Buried within his beast, Tomás’s rage poured through him like boiling lava. In the distance through the wolf’s eyes, he spotted another woman of exquisite beauty standing tall and proud. Quetzal feathers caught in the long, dark hair flowing down her back. A jade skirt flowed like ripples of water around her legs. She wore a peasant blouse of blues and greens that made him think of the ocean. Gold armbands in the shapes of snakes coiled around her arms.

She was absolutely stunning, her beauty that of which ballads were written. He had seen her once from afar with her husband, his master. They had appeared glorious and filled with love and passion.

When the water goddess had disappeared without explanation, her husband had sent his warriors out to search to no avail. With each negative report that came back, the light seemed to dim in Huitzilopochtli’s eyes.

And to think Chalchiuhtlicue had been here, on this ranch, for all these centuries.

Carolina should have told him. Anger continued to fuel his mind and he channeled it into ever greater speed. He had to protect Huitzilopochtli’s wife.

Tomás was close enough that he could hear the demon Carolina had called Billy laugh wickedly as he blew rings of fire around the goddess, taunting her. She lashed out with whips of water, but her energy appeared to be ebbing and Tomás could see the water particles separating and falling uselessly on the ground.

“Pathetic. And you call yourself a goddess! You are nothing compared to my master. When I am finished with you, old woman, I will destroy that little bitch, Carolina, and once again be human.”

The mention of Carolina’s name drove Tomás forward. The wolf took a running leap and pounced on the demon. Rage, hot and scalding, drove his strength. He viciously tore his claws into the tzitzimime that dared put his foul hands on Carolina. The line between man and beast blurred. Blood and gore squirted over his pelt, soaking him in black ooze. He could feel the venom eating away at his fur, but he ignored the pain. Fury drove him on. He had hoped that Carolina would be his salvation, but nothing could save him. The wolf inside him pushed to the forefront, relishing the feel of raw flesh under its claws. He pushed his muzzle into the demon’s chest, cracking bone and tearing through muscle as the demon yowled. He dug his paws into the opening and ripped the chest wide open, breaking the man in half. He flung the rotted carcass aside.

Chalchiuhtlicue regarded the demon’s smoldering, rotted corpse, before turning to him and bowing her head. “Great warrior. I thank you.” He had defeated the tzitzimime, but a greater threat crackled in the air.

His wolf snarled a warning. Tomás focused, aware of the black smoke rising from the dried cracks in the ground that lay below the dead body. Evil, greater than any he had ever experienced, spread like a disease.

Within the smoke, the enemy’s face appeared. Xiuhcoatl. The Aztec fire serpent rose up into the sky to hover over the goddess, looming large enough to swallow Chalchiuhtlicue in one gulp. The smoke coiled around the turquoise serpentine body. Large, venomous fangs sprouted from its gaping jaws.

“Chica!” The scream tore through the air. Carolina galloped across the desert. Her horse skidded to a stop in front of the goddess and she flung herself off.

Tomás cursed himself for his inattentiveness. Nails digging into the dirt, he sprang, lunging past Carolina and shoving her aside. She might not have been his spirit mate, but it was still his duty to protect humans and Huitzilopochtli’s wife. He leapt into the air, sank his teeth into the fire serpent’s neck and held on.

The fire serpent roared in anger and twisted and turned. Its head came down to snap at Tomás. Those sharp, glistening teeth came closer, ever closer, and drops of acid hit his body, burning down to the bone. He refused to let go.

Without his spirit mate, he would be lost to the world in his animal form. If one of them had to die this day, let it be him.

Carolina scrambled up to her feet in time to see Tomás launch himself at Xiuhcoatl. Heart in her throat, she saw his powerful jaws lock on the fire serpent’s long body.

The dragon-like head snapped at the wolf clinging to its neck, but couldn’t seem to get the right angle to wrap its jaws around the animal. Acid drops hit Tomás’s skin, scorching the fur.

She called up her power and felt it fizzle. Instead of falling into bed with the shadow warrior, she should have replenished herself. She was foolish and surely Chica considered her unfit to be a guardian, but Carolina would remain to fight. Desperately she scanned for water. The river bed mocked her with its sandy bottom.

The smell of burning flesh made her sick to her stomach.

Carolina spun, looking for the tiniest drop of water, anything. Sunlight glinted off her goddess. Chica smiled gently, then melted into a puddle, quickly drying up in the blazing desert heat. Carolina dropped to her knees and stared at the pale reflection of Chica in the small concentration of water.

“I’m sorry, Chica. I failed you.”

“You are the only one who can save us, daughter. You are the strongest guardian to be born. You bear my husband’s mark. Use it.”

Carolina didn’t understand, but she didn’t have time. She dipped her fingers into the circle of water and stood. Power flooded through her.

Her body vibrated as she flung every ounce of her power at the fiery serpent. Water slammed into the creature’s eyes, temporarily blinding it. The serpent roared its displeasure and shook its body, streams of smoke billowing around its head. Still it was not enough.

She wiped the sweat on her forehead with her forearm, needing every drop of liquid at her disposal. Her veins thrummed with the power of Chica, building to a crescendo. She could do this. She had been destined for this.

She raised her hands once more and focused on the area below the serpent’s jaw. The creature ignored her, completely intent on dislodging Tomás, who stubbornly refused to release his grip. She felt her power heighten to a level she had never before achieved. She let loose a narrow stream of water, shaping it until it was the width of a spear and just as lethal. It stabbed the serpent in the neck.

Blood spurted. The serpent hissed.

She quickly moved several feet away and aimed another blast, constantly moving after each one, creating a bloody ring around the serpent’s neck. Every shot had to count. She had only so much water in her arsenal. The serpent attempted to spit fire at her, but the barrage went wild and singed a patch of sand instead.

The serpent swayed in the air, head bent, black ooze creating trails down its long neck.

It appeared they had a momentary reprieve.

The wolf released its prey and dropped to the ground. Burned patches of skin marked its body and blood streamed down its torso. Ears back and tail tucked between its legs, the wolf growled and bared its teeth at her.

She searched the golden eyes for signs of Tomás and found none. She dropped to her knees and reached out her hand. The animal snapped at her. Frightened, yet determined to get him back, she extended her hand once again with her palm up. The wolf eyed her warily.

“Tomás, I know you’re in there. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. If your soul truly calls to mine, hear my cries of sorrow. Please forgive me for not trusting in you, for not believing in the possibility of us.” Tears spilled down the sides of her cheek and fell into her open palm. “Come back to me, Tomás. Your spirit mate needs you.”

The scent of water tickled his nose. Its purity flooded his body and mind. Deep within, Tomás awakened.

Poison from the fire serpent attacked his organs, the toxin more potent than any he had ever suffered before. His wolf struggled to stay in control. But above it all, Tomás breathed in Carolina. Her words left him shaken and aware of his own culpability. He had given his spirit mate no time to understand.

And there was no time now as Xiuhcoatl, recovering, reared back to attack.

“Macuahuitl!” Tomás shouted to the skies above as he simultaneously shifted. His sword manifested in his hand. He half stumbled, half ran towards the large beast, and with two hands, gripped the heavy sword and swung it at the base of the serpent. The sword cut through nerves and bone, but he didn’t have the strength to carry the blow across to slice the creature in two.

The fiery serpent reared back, a scream rising up from its throat, and let loose a torrent of fire that blackened the ground. Tomás dove out of the way, landing with a jolt, the sandy ground jarring his already battered body. He struggled to his feet and observed Carolina respond with a flood of water aimed straight for Xiuhcoatl’s mouth. She didn’t let up until the fire was doused. The fiery serpent staggered, wheezing puffs of smoke from its nose and mouth.

“Now, Tomás!”

Tomás brought his sword up , only to fall to his knees. He felt his strength waning and railed at the timing. He had to protect his spirit mate. “Carolina,” he choked. His vision swam. He couldn’t maintain a grip on his weapon, and then the sand was rising up to meet his face.

Carolina ran to Tomás. She reached for the weapon, only to find its heft more than she could lift. “Chica, help me, please.” Energy flowed through her veins, and with both hands she picked up the weapon.

When she turned, she saw the serpent bearing down on her, the wounds on its neck still oozing blood. Her heart pounded, but she refused to give in to fear, and so she held position. Timing was everything. And what she planned was risky.

When she judged the distance close enough, she hauled back and threw the sword at the creature. As soon as it left her hand, she called up her power over water and let loose a stream that carried the blade straight up and buried it in the serpent’s throat.

The serpent reared and hissed, shaking itself from side to side.

The macuahuitl fell to the ground. Black smoke surrounded the serpent, spreading outward until it was impossible to see.

Carolina coughed and her eyes watered. What was the serpent up to now? Her water was nearly depleted and she was out of ideas.

The smoke swirled and then began to slither into a crack in the ground. It moved with reptilian speed until the last tendril disappeared beneath the earth.

They had defeated the enemy—for now.

She glanced over at Tomás and a cry escaped her lips .

She dropped to the ground , rolled him over and pulled his head into her lap, cradling him. She had no tears to cry. Every ounce of water was gone. Only a few drops remained of her goddess.

They had defeated the serpent, but at what cost?

“Tomás, you must hang on. Tell me how to help you.”

His eyes fluttered open. The color shifted from amber to gold and back. His body shuddered and a sheen of sweat coated his skin. “Poison in the blood. It is too late for me.” His breath came out shallow and pain creased his features. His hand reached up, shaking, and touched her cheek.

“Tell me what to do. I can get a healer. I can call for help.”

Tomás smiled. “My warrior. My spirit mate. I was wrong before. You are everything I have ever dreamed of. You gave me back my humanity. You showed me love. I can go to the upper world in peace now.”

“No, you can’t go. I need you. And I love you too” She did. Already she felt a hole growing inside her, as if his spirit was slowly retreating from hers.

Tomás’s eyes closed and his arm fell limp to his side.

“Tomás! Tomás!” She shook him. He lay motionless in her arms. Chica, a few feet away, was nearly dried up in the sun.

She’d lost them both.

She didn’t have the power to save them. She didn’t know how.

Her tattoo warmed against her shoulder, calling her attention to it. Her head came up and her breath hitched. There was someone who could save them.

She would be breaking her vow to Chica. But if she did nothing, they would both die.

Carolina thrust her hand inside her shirt to touch the hummingbird gracing her shoulder.

She threw her head back and screamed, “Huitzilopochtli!”

Chapter Eight

He materialized through the shimmery rays of the sun, walking towards her, tall and striking, all muscle and bronze skin. He wore feathers in his hair, carried a spear and shield, and radiated power with every step.

A blinding light burst forth and she threw up her arm to block it.

The heat warmed her, reached inside, spreading through her body as if reading her every thought and action. She didn’t try to prevent it. She couldn’t if she wanted.

The light retreated and she blinked, letting her eyes adjust. Standing before her was the sun god. She should have shown more respect, but her fear of losing Tomás overrode her sense of humility. She needed Huitzilopochtli’s help.

“My great god, please, I beg you to save the life of your shadow warrior.”

His voice boomed loud and strong. “Why should I? He died an honorable death. He has done his duty.” He pointed the tip of the spear at Tomás’s heart. Lightning surged down the shaft of the weapon.

She flung herself over Tomás. “No!” She couldn’t let him go. Not like this. “He is my spirit mate.”

The god pulled back his spear.

She pressed on further, afraid he would change his mind. “All I ever wanted was to find another person to share the burden of the ranch and my secrets. For so long, I believed that I could be an ordinary woman. But I’m not.” She turned her body so that he had a clear view of her tattoo.

The sun god’s eyes narrowed. “You are a guardian,” he said with little emotion.

“And a spirit mate.” She watched him, willing him to believe her.

“Spirit mates are unique, one soul for one soul. They are destined, not made. Perhaps you only think you are spirit mates. In five centuries, none have been found.”

“No!” Carolina denied vehemently. “I can feel it in here.” She rubbed a palm over her heart. “Tomás and I are destined to be together.”

“It is too late,” the sun god decreed.

“It can’t be,” Carolina cried. “I’ll do anything, sacrifice anything. My life for his.”

“You would do this?”

“Yes.” A tear rolled down her cheek and fell upon Tomás’s pale cheek. Gently, she brushed it away, absorbing it into her fingertips. She’d thought all the water inside her spent, yet in her pain she managed to still produce a tear. “I am a mere mortal. Tomás is a shadow warrior who fights for all of us in this world. He is needed beyond this lifetime. My life for his.”

“So be it.”

The sun god raised his spear to the sky. Carolina braced herself as she glanced down one last time at Tomás’s beloved face. “In this world or the next, I won’t stop fighting. I will always be with you in your heart. I love you, my spirit mate,” she whispered. Light burst forth from the tip of the spear and cracked the sky. Her tattoo pulsed against her skin as if it wanted to take flight. She closed her eyes, prepared to take Tomás’s place in death.

Fingers lightly caressed her cheek. Carolina’s eyes flew open and she smiled in joy. “Tomás? You’re okay?” She glanced up at the sun god.

“You sacrificed your soul. The bond between you both is complete.”

She didn’t quite understand, but she didn’t have time to ask. Tomás levered himself up, got to his feet and helped her stand. His body showed no sign of the brutal injuries of before.

She looked into his amber brown eyes. No longer did she see the feral wolf staring out at her, but the peaceful soul of a man.

“Carolina!” He picked her up and swung her around. He set her down upon her feet and kissed her hard and fast. “You gave me back my humanity.”

She wanted to run her hands over his newly healed body and kiss him until she was breathless, but it wasn’t time to celebrate just yet.

She grabbed Tomás’s hand and pulled him towards the sun god. “Wait. You must help Chica,” she pleaded. “You must save her.”

“Who is this Chica?” The sun god’s voice rumbled across the landscape like thunder.

“Your wife,” Carolina choked out. She ran the short distance to the few drops left on the ground.

For a second, Huitzilopochtli appeared stunned and then he was moving with purposeful strides. His shield disappeared, though he held on to his spear. He bent down and held his palm over the damp spot. “We have little time. I feel her fading fast and I cannot lose her again.” He straightened and from his waist, he pulled a small dagger. “Give me your palms, each of you.” Both obeyed without question, holding their hands out to him. He sliced a line in all four palms.

“Let the blood drip into the water,” he ordered.

Carolina watched their blood mingle with Chica’s essence.

“Put your palms together and hold them above the water.” The sun god raised his spear towards the sky and in a loud voice chanted in the Aztec language.

A river of energy flowed back and forth between Tomás and herself. She felt her spirit bind with his and, looking into his eyes, knew he felt it as well.

Power welled up within them and spilled over. Her tattoo strained against her skin as if wanting to take flight. A golden glow burst outwards, surrounding them, bathing the area. The sun god continued to chant. When she thought she could no longer hold her arms up, he ceased.

The light disappeared.

Before them, Chica stood, healthy and strong.

“Come, Chalchiuhtlicue.” The sun god offered his hand to his wife. “We have much to discuss.”

“You still wear my necklace,” she whispered.

“I never stopped looking for you.”

Chica took a step forward, then stopped. She shook her head violently. “I cannot. Please do not ask me to go with you.” Her voice was filled with anguish.

“Why? What is it you fear?” He lifted his nose into the air. “I do not smell another man on you.”

Chica drew herself up tall. “I would never dishonor my vows in that way. I ask your forgiveness, but I cannot be with you. You must let me go.”

“I will not,” the sun god ground out.

“Tell him,” Carolina urged. “Working together, you are stronger. He deserves to know what it is he faces.” Carolina held her breath, knowing she may have overstepped her bounds, but she believed in what she said.

“You have become very wise, my daughter, though I do not believe there is an answer in this particular case.” Chica took several steps until she stood directly in front of her husband. “You chose a very foolish woman for your wife. I allowed myself to be tempted by the legend of the chalice. I believed if I could know the future and the past, I would be able to find a way to defeat Itzapoptl.” She bowed her head as if it were too difficult to face her husband any longer. Huitzilopochtli tipped her chin up.

“Did you drink from the chalice?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “In the vision of the future, I saw myself kill you. I saw your blood on my hands.” She reached out and clutched his arms. “I will not risk you. You are too important to this world.”

The spear disappeared from his hand. He embraced his wife and held her fast to him. “And you are important to me. We will find a way to change this vision.”

Chica shook her head. “You are not listening.”

“Trust me.” He stared down into her face, the fierceness of his feelings for his wife plain for everyone to see. Carolina bit back tears at the sight.

Chica smiled, hesitant at first and then wide and bright. Her happiness radiated outward like the rays of the sun reflecting off the surface of the ocean. She laced her fingers with her husband’s.

The two then turned to face Tomás and Carolina. Carolina braced herself for the worst. Her goddess would leave her and so would Tomás.

Huitzilopochtli seemed to grow in stature before them. “This war has only just begun. Rebellion in the pantheon is growing. Xiuhcoatl lost this battle today, but he will be back as will others searching for ways to wreak destruction on this plane. I need both of you and your courage.”

“I have always fought for you,” Tomás declared.

Carolina glanced at her goddess, who nodded. “I give you my loyalty as well.”

The sun god tilted his chin in acknowledgement. “As Tomás’s spirit mate, I grant you the gift of immortality and a wolf spirit to mate with his.” His spear reappeared in his hand and he touched her tattoo with its tip. She actually felt the wings of her tattoo beat against her skin. “Together you will become one unit, and together you will fight in a war that has been rising against us. But today marks a turn in the tide. The two of you are spirit mates, and with your merging, a new shadow warrior has been born to join our ranks.”

The tip of the spear glowed against her tattoo and sent a jolt through her before he removed it. “Come, daughter. No longer are you a guardian but a shadow warrior.”

Deep in her soul, she felt a curious shifting as a second spirit joined with hers. Carolina closed her eyes and reached out with her mind. She felt the touch of her beast inside her, female, loyal and determined to fight on the side of light.

A feeling of warmth and acceptance flooded into her.

Slowly, she turned to face her spirit mate. Tomás’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her under his shoulder. Carolina brought her hand up to cover his hand at her waist, joy flooding through her.

Huitzilopochtli then plucked three feathers from his hair and blew on them. They transformed into hummingbirds. The tiny birds gathered the corpse of the tzitzimime and winged it to the netherworld.

“I grant you seven days. Use them wisely.” The two gods faded from sight, Chica’s laughter sprinkling over them like raindrops. Water ran through the riverbed, and green grass and plants sprouted, covering up all signs of battle.

Tomás gathered Carolina in his arms. “I’ve never had a vacation. What do humans do?”

Carolina smiled. “They travel, visit places, relax.”

“I’ve seen the world and have spent my whole existence traveling. I have, however, never relaxed.”

Carolina’s smile grew wider. “I think I know a great way to relax.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Does it involve a bed?”

“Oh, yes.” She reached up and nipped his chin with her teeth.

His expression became serious. “Carolina, we are tied together for eternity. You gave me back my humanity and I took your freedom.”

“Is that all there is between us, a matter of debt?”

“No.” He sounded offended. “In your arms, I discovered love. I am alive.” His eyes burned bright with meaning, flashing amber and gold.

Carolina snuggled into him, relishing the feeling of being in another’s arms. “Then I am the luckiest woman in the world and I have an eternity to show you exactly why.”

About the Author

Gabriella Hewitt is the pen name of creative writing talents Sasha Tomaszycki and Patrizia M.J. Hayashi. Together they weave tales of romantic suspense and dangerously sensual paranormals, delivering on their promise of Excitement, Suspense, and Passion. Check out the website www.GabriellaHewitt.com to find out about upcoming releas events on their blog and free recipe booklets.

Look for these titles by Gabriella Hewitt

Now Available:

Dark Waters

Coming Soon:

Shadow Vision

The gods play…and mortals pay.

Bad Blood

Latter-Day Olympians, Book 1

Tori Karacis’s family line may trace back to a drunken liaison between the god Pan and one of the immortal gorgons. Or…maybe it’s just coincidence that her glance can, literally, stop men in their tracks. While her fear of heights kept her out of the family aerobatic troupe, her extreme nosiness fits right in with her uncle’s P.I. business.

Except he’s disappeared on an Odyssean journey to find himself. Muddling through on her own, she’s reduced to hunting (not stalking, because that would just be weird) brass-bra’d Hollywood agent Circe Holland to deliver a message…only to witness her murder by what looks like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Suddenly, all of her family’s tall tales seem believable, especially when Apollo—the Apollo, who’s now hiding out among humans as an adult film star—appears in her office, looking to hire her. She knows the drill: canoodling with gods never works out well for humans, but she’s irresistibly drawn to him. Maybe it’s her genes. Maybe not.

Given her conflicted feelings for one hot and hardened cop, it’s a toss-up which will kill her quickest. The danger at her door…or her love life.

Warning: Contains pot-boiling passion between a heroine who may—or may not—be a descendent of Medusa, and a hot god and a hunky copy with the…equipment…to handle her, even on her worst bad-hair day. Beware of killer kisses, trickster gods and bearded grandmothers Who Know Everything.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Bad Blood:

“I need a bath,” I croaked, hand to my throat as if it would make any difference. “Right now I feel like I’d pass out bending over to start the water. I’d never have called you to begin with if—” my voice gave out, which was probably a good thing, given that what had been coming out sounded all wrong in my head. I swallowed and tried again, softer. “Not that you were my last choice. Just—I need a girlfriend.”

Armani looked at me like a suspect he intended to crack, as if every word spoken had some other meaning. Finally, he swiped a hand hard over his face.

“Look, you witnessed a murder, came face-to-face with the killer. We probably should have set some sort of watch on you right from the first. My fault. But—dammit, by the time you’re through flirting and baiting, it’s a wonder I remember my own damned name,” he growled.

I was flummoxed. “So I do get to you.”

He practically glared. “Yeah, like that’s a freakin’ newsflash. Why else do you do it?”

“Because I can’t help myself,” I answered.

Damn and double damn. I should have stuck with the pen.

My admission didn’t seem to make him any happier. “Look, you’re a witness in an ongoing investigation.”

“Yeah.”

“And a pain in my ass.”

I was tired, I was soaked to the bone, but as much as I wanted that bath and my bed…

“So?” I challenged.

“So, we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” I asked, exasperated. “We’re not doing anything—”

In the blink of an eye, Armani had risen from his chair, taken my face in his hands and shut me the hell up with a kiss. And not just any tentative little first kiss—a breath-stealing, heart-pounding, fade-to-black kind of showstopper. I found I wasn’t nearly as exhausted as I’d thought. With minds of their own, my fingers buried themselves in his hair, reveling in the feel of the thick strands, kneading his scalp. My thoughts scattered as his tongue thrust inside my mouth and I gasped in reaction.

His hands slid from my face, down over my wet camisole, just brushing my breasts before settling on my hips. I was no longer cold—superheated was more like it—but wet was another matter.

Armani pushed himself away. Without looking at me, he muttered, “I’ll start the water running and wait just outside the door so I can hear you if you fall.” And he escaped into the only other room in my apartment, the bathroom.

My head fell to the table in frustration and sudden weakness. In the time it took him to get things ready, a series of unworthy thoughts flitted through my mind—pulling him in with me, faking a fall, flat-out asking him to wash my back. But I wasn’t going to trick Armani into anything. He either wanted me or he didn’t.

Still, I couldn’t help a bit of teasing, allowing a breast to brush his arm as he escorted me to the bath.

“I may need help with these wet clothes,” I said, damaged throat making it come out all husky.

He shot me a sidelong look. “At this point, I don’t think the bath would do those clothes any harm.”

“Such a gentleman,” I answered with a roll of my eyes.

“I am a gentleman. That’s why you’re on your own with those clothes.” Then he decided to turn my teasing back on me. “Besides, if I were to take them off, I’d need to taste you right—” the hand not supporting me rose to ever-so-gently slide over my throat until his thumb caressed the hollow, “—here.”

My nipples practically stood at attention, pushing noticeably against my camisole. The look he gave me was hot enough to scorch and smug besides.

I had no comeback.

“Speechless? Hmm, I’ll have to remember that.”

Who says getting eaten by a shark is a bad thing?

Maximum Witch

That Old Black Magic, Book 3

Willa Jameson is having one whopper of an identity crisis. Odd memory flashes that aren’t hers. A sultry voice in her head that’s obsessed with sex. Even weirder, she finds herself in the jaws of a rogue leviathan, dragged to the bottom of the ocean—and rescued by a hunky…shark?

The last thing Sheriff Max Truitt expects to find on his daily, deep-Atlantic patrol is a human—especially one who breathes underwater. Compelled to take her home, he waits for the beauty to wake up and reveal her name. Instead he’s treated to a punch in the nose, then a sexy romp hot enough to boil water.

The next morning, embarrassed by the sizzling, scandalous things the voice in her head drove her to do, Willa slips away. But if there’s one thing a determined shark excels at, it’s tracking his favorite meal.

Solving the mystery that is Willa is no simple task. When they finally unlock a dangerous secret hidden deep in her subconscious, it drives a wedge between them…and puts them in a desperate race against an evil that seeks to rain down a watery Armageddon on all mankind.

Warning: This book does not contain sex with a puffer fish. There’s not even sex with a seahorse. However, there’s plenty of smoking-hot lovin’ with a shark. And even a steamy M/F/M threesome. So slap on your snorkels and swim fins, things are about to get wet and wild.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Maximum Witch:

A sparkling blue pool shimmered in front of Willa. She stared at the man ascending from its depths, gleaming rivulets of water streaming down his muscular flanks.

If this is a dream or hallucination, please, goddess, don’t wake me up.

The man glanced over his shoulder at her, and she realized it was Max. His come-hither smile was an invitation to pure sin. She gulped.

“Join me, Willa. You don’t have to be afraid.”

She inched forward, her focus dropping to the eddying pool of water. Trepidation sluiced inside her veins. She couldn’t go in there. If she did…bad things would happen.

“No, you’re safe.” Max coaxed her closer. “I’ll protect you. Always.”

His sincerity beckoned, as did the wicked promise of his delectable body. He was the sole possessor of precisely what she needed. She had no idea how she knew that, but the truth of it rang loud and clear. Max reached for her, and she stepped into his embrace. The water’s satin glide stroked her flesh, sending a splinter of alarm through her.

“I’m here.” Max’s lips brushed hers in a soft caress, the thickness of his erection bumping into her stomach.

Oh yes. He was definitely there. All ten inches of him.

Clearly her inner slut was a size whore to notice such things.

His tongue delved inside her mouth, teasing hers into lush play. A breathless whimper escaped her. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to a flat rock jutting from the center of the pool. With gentle reverence, he settled her onto its slick surface and climbed over her, kissing her again. Eyes drifting shut, she lost herself to the sensuality overtaking her. “Max…”

A horrible screech filled the air and she snapped her eyes open. Max was gone.

He’d left her. Left her to drown. Panicked, she scrambled to the middle of the rock. Shaking with fear, she cowered in the face of the relentless waves foaming around her, surging ever closer to the protective stone ledge. The terrible shrieking recommenced. Convinced her brain would explode from the unbearable noise, she clamped her hands over her ears. A female figure rose above the surf, her long, silvery-blonde hair whipping frantically in the brewing tempest. Cold dark eyes flashed with hatred. “You will all die. Every last one of you.”

Behind the spectral vision, a terrifying wall of water crested into a towering peak. Its roar deafening, the tidal wave swelled, crashing into the rock.

Willa jerked into a sitting position, the frightening nightmare slowly dissolving. She stared into the darkness shrouding the bedroom, her heart galloping out of control. What the hell was that? Fingers trembling, she pushed aside a damp lock of hair sticking to her cheek.

It wasn’t the first time she’d experienced these dreams that felt all too real. But this one had seemed even more…vivid than the others.

She scooched back onto the mattress and curled onto her side. Hugging the pillow to her chest, she sucked in a series of deep, calming breaths, attempting to get her pulse under control. She hated this part of her strange episodes—the jagged-edged panic that clawed at her insides like a beast determined to escape.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” The sultry voice sprang into Willa’s head, making her jolt.

She knew that voice. Though she’d never actually heard it use audible words, it’d called to her countless times in the past week, usually moments before she blacked out.

Panting in frantic desperation, she buried her head in the pillow. A distinctly feminine laugh floated inside her mind. Willa gnashed her teeth. Freaking great, the damn voice thinks my psychosis is hilarious.

“He can help you.” The pronouncement came with a seductive ripple of heat. “He possesses what you truly need.”

“Who?” The question popped from Willa before she could smother it, and she growled. She was already a walking candidate for a padded cell. Talking to the voices in her head would only guarantee her lifetime residency.

“You already know the answer.”

Almost as if it’d been choreographed, a rumbling snore broke from Max. A responding surge of moisture dampened the crotch of her panties. Damn it. Wasn’t being nuttier than a Snickers bar enough to deal with? Was it really necessary to heap being weirdly aroused by snores on top of it?

The voice chuckled, and Willa mentally gave it the bird.

“Go to him.”

“Shut up,” Willa whispered fiercely. “I’m not listening to you anymore.”

“Oh, yes you are.”

She opened her mouth to tell the taunting voice to go find another head to harass just as an overpowering wave of lust flooded her. Gasping, she clenched her thighs together, but that only seemed to intensify the sensation. She writhed, even the slide of her skin against the sheets an agonizing torment.

“He can make it all better.”

“You’re going to pay for this.”

“You’ll thank me in the morning.”

She flung the pillow to the foot of the bed and tried rolling onto her other side, but her body refused to cooperate. Max moved restlessly in his sleep, and the blanket twisted around his hips. She stared at the intriguing shadow play along the defined ridges of his abdomen. Desire, thick and headier than anything she’d experienced, shimmered through her. “Oh Goddess.”

Shivers wracking her, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and stumbled toward Max. Her legs were useless as putty and she nearly fell on top of him. He grunted, instantly jerking awake. “Willa, what is it?” His hands automatically steadied her and he cursed. “You’re burning up. I better call Boone.”

“No. You have what I need.”

“You’re feverish. Let me—” He broke off with another grunt when she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. His eyes widened. “Willa?” The word came out garbled, but there was no mistaking the confused shock underlying it.

She released him and licked her way inside his mouth, her tongue curling around his. Her fingers splayed on his chest, absorbing the shaky timbre of his groan. He was delicious beyond words. Scraping her teeth along his bristly jaw, she made her way to the underside and nipped him before sucking the tender spot with enough force to leave a hickey.

“Jesus. Sweetheart, what’s going on here?”

She lapped an upward path along his neck, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath her exploring tongue. Continuing her journey north, she bit his chin. “I’m having you.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You’re right. It’s a brilliant one.”

“You damn well know that isn’t what I meant.”

“And you talk too much,” she admonished before kissing him again with hungry relish. She stretched flat on top of him, and his body tensed. The T-shirt rode up, leaving nothing but the thin nylon of her panties as a flimsy barrier to the warm flesh of his belly. There could be no possible way he didn’t notice how unbelievably aroused she was.

She got her verification when his palm slid over the curve of her ass and dipped between her legs. A tremor ran through him. His resistance melting a fraction, he coasted his fingers over the soaked crotch of her bikini, creating a slick friction. “You’re so fucking wet.”

If she’d possessed the tiniest modicum of willpower to ignore the powerful need combusting inside her, the gravelly wonder in Max’s tone proved to be her downfall. Scooting up, she wrestled the shirt off before doing the same with her bra.

Max’s gulp echoed in the room, his focus glued to her breasts. “We should wait—”

“No. Now.” Seeing he was going to balk again, she wiggled down his torso and hooked her thumbs into his sweats, tugging them down. He’d gone commando. How very considerate of him. Saliva pooling in her mouth, she ogled the thick, rigid column of his shaft before taking it into her mouth. Tuning out Max’s startled intake of air, she sucked halfway down his length, using her hand to take care of the rest.

“Fuck.” Max’s hips jerked as she gave the root of his cock a sinuous pump.

She released the bulbous head with a juicy pop and concentrated on the tiny slit, flicking her tongue with teasing, kittenish licks. He swelled even more, pulsing within her grip. Another shuddering moan fell from him, and his hand covered hers. “Come here and let me taste you.”

Wonderful as that sounded, she had a different plan. The fierce desire pushing her wouldn’t be appeased by anything less than penetration at this point, and she wanted—no, needed—every scrumptiously hard centimeter of him filling her. Sitting up once more, she maneuvered the crotch of her panties, making room for Max. He blinked when he caught on to her intention, and he scrambled to sit up. “Willa—” His protest morphed into a rough exhale as she impaled herself on his impressive girth.