Page 76 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
She blinked drowsily several times. “There’s a giant pile of fruit in the corner of the room.”
Hawk nodded. “I know.”
“What’s it doing there?”
“Well . . . beginning to rot, probably.”
She blinked a few more times, eyes clearing. “It wasn’t there when I came in.”
He was surprised she’d noticed anything when she came in last night, considering her condition. And the fact that she had been hanging upside down over his shoulder. “It was here this morning . . . I found it all at the base of the tree.” He gestured to the low dresser behind her overflowing with piles of jewelry. “Along with that.”
She turned,
did a double-take, and stared open-mouthed at the booty. She turned back to stare at him with lifted brows.
He shrugged. “I know. Don’t ask me; it just appeared while I was out. There’s still a mess outside. Look.” He pointed to the round opening in the floor where the rope that acted as the sole means of an entrance and exit hung down; it was bolted to the ceiling above, which was the floor of the second level.
She crossed to it with tentative steps and peered down. She said softly, “Oh. That is so sweet.”
“Sweet?” he repeated, confused. “What is, exactly?”
“Well, if I’m not wrong, that looks to me like some kind of . . . offering.” She glanced up at him. “Like a ritual thing. You know, when worshippers leave gifts at the temple, like that.”
All the breath left Hawk’s body in a soundless rush.
Maqlu. The tribe had performed the sacrament of Maqlu for Jacqueline, in honor of the sacrifice she’d made.
The sacrifice she’d made for him.
She was looking at him with concern. “Are you all right?”
He hadn’t recognized the sacrament for what it was because he’d never seen it before. It had never occurred in his lifetime. And he was so detached from the ancient rites . . . He didn’t attend the ceremonies, he didn’t listen to the teachings of the priest, he’d even refused to take the bride the Matchmaker had insisted he mate with as a young man because he’d rather take the lashings than marry a female he didn’t love. And he had taken the lashings. And more, when he refused again several years later; it was a different female this time but it had the same result. After that there were no more proffered matches, and it became sport to the unmated females of the tribe to see who could land him . . . but no one ever had. His heart remained untouched.
Until now. Until her. Until this human woman, so different from him yet so alike.
He was moved. Something shifted inside of him, a cold solidity went liquid soft, and he felt alternatively hot then cold, then broke out in a sweat.
Ama-gi . . . please, not her. Anyone but her.
Jacqueline straightened. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I think I just realized I’m in love with you.
He closed his eyes, swallowed, curled his hands to fists to control their shaking. After a moment, when he regained a semblance of control, he said, “I think you’re right, about it being an offering. I think this means . . . they like you.”
Her eyes lit up. “Me? Are you sure? Hawk, this is probably for you—”
“No, Jacqueline. It’s for you. Trust me, it’s for you.”
There was a herd of stallions inside him, racing over the open fields of his heart, pounding and snorting and grinding the final shreds of resistance to dust beneath their hooves.
Yes, he was in love with her.
And he couldn’t think of anything worse.
“You look a little green,” she said, alarmed, coming close. She lifted a hand to touch his face but he caught her wrist and held it suspended between them.
“No.” It was all he could manage in his current electrocuted, gobsmacked state.
