DaughterofFire (5 page)

“Save some for me,” Pele said, a smile on her face. Kalama
gestured to the kitchen and wolfed down another piece of fruit.

“Here, take these.” Pele handed the objects in her hands to
Kalama. Grumbling, Kalama set down the plate of pineapple and took the
proffered items. She unrolled the cloth wrapped around a large lava ball. The
cloth was made of ti leaves that had been pounded and made into a fabric. The
second the roughened ball of lava touched her open palm, Kalama understood what
her mother had given her.

“Mom, please tell me you didn’t break into the Jaggar Museum
and steal these things,” Kalama looked up at her mother, her fingers curling
tightly around the lava, the ti cloth hanging loosely in her other hand.

“Goddesses don’t steal. We borrow and return when we feel
like it. Besides, it’s my island. Everything belongs to me,” Pele said,
munching on a piece of pineapple, a superior look on her face.

“Jack was in a lather because of these going missing this
morning. He’s in enough trouble from all the other thefts without you adding to
it,” Kalama said absentmindedly as she examined the ti cloth. Markings had been
dyed onto the cloth in a stark black, ancient symbols telling a tale. Kalama
looked at them closely, trying to decipher their meaning.

“What happens to that stupid boy is no concern of mine,”
Pele roared. She scooped the cloth from Kalama’s hand. “He doesn’t even
understand what this truly is.”

“What is it then, Mom? I can’t figure it out either.” Kalama
slowly rubbed the lava ball with her thumb, enjoying the feel of the smooth,
yet porous stone. She felt the energy that remained in the object after all
these years.

“It is a map of sorts, to the sections of the tiki. Someone
found the pieces after I smashed the carving. They were scattered around my
islands to hide them from your aunt, among others.” Pele spread the cloth out
and motioned for Kalama to join her. “You must follow these clues, and quickly,
daughter. I am not sure if Namakoakana’i has deciphered these locations yet.
That is why I took the ti cloth from the museum. I can’t risk my vengeful
sister getting her hands on it.”

Kalama heaved a sigh. Her stomach was in knots. She couldn’t
read the so-called treasure map. A wave of uselessness gripped her again. How
was she to help her mother if she didn’t understand? She asked her mother the
question lurking in her mind. Pele draped her arm around her shoulders and
pulled her close in a hug. For a few moments the women stayed that way, Kalama
locked in the safety of her mother’s arms and Pele enjoying the subtle strength
radiating from her daughter.

“You can do this, my daughter. I will be here to help. With
the two of us searching we will be able to stop her.” Pele’s voice lacked the
conviction usually associated with the Goddess of Fire. Kalama took a deep
breath and stared down at the cloth once more.

“Okay, let’s study this some more and then I have to get
some sleep. I’m exhausted. When the sun comes up I’ll go and make an offering
to Kane for some help. We could use all assistance we can get and it doesn’t
hurt to ask Uncle Kane. I mean, he does command everything,” Kalama said with a
determined nod.

Pele met her gaze, a look of despair in her mother’s eyes.
They would find the tiki pieces before Namakaokaha’i, Kalama told herself. She
felt a tightening in her chest at the idea of Hawaii buried beneath miles of
ocean forever. Her home would be gone if she failed.

Someone knocking on his screen door woke Jack from the
strange dream that captured his slumber. He’d spent the better part of the
night tortured by erotic images of his newest lab assistant clad only in a
sarong, doing wicked things to his body with her lush mouth. Dressed like a
native girl from long ago, Kalama had swayed her curvy hips in a seductive hula
as he’d watched. Jack had found himself in the role of stranger from across the
sea. It was so real, he had almost been able to smell the scent of her skin,
feel the touch of her hands on his body.

Sunlight seeping through the slats of the blinds covering
his windows cast intriguing shadows around the room as he lay staring at the
ceiling for a few moments. Scrubbing a hand over his eyes in an effort to clear
the sleep away, he rolled out of bed. He shivered when his bare feet met the
wooden planks of the floor. While the weather wasn’t cold by mainland standards
in most part of the islands, the temperature had dipped to sixty degrees last
night and he liked to sleep with the windows cracked to allow the fresh island
air in. A quick glance at the clock told him it was only six. He was usually up
early on the weekdays when he was needed at the observatory, but the weekends
he slept in before heading down to Hilo for surfing or girl watching with Sam.
Whoever was at his door had better have a damn good reason for being there.

Stumbling sleepily, he headed from the bedroom at the back
of the house to the front door. Grumbling softly, Jack yanked open the door and
was instantly blinded by the sunlight pouring in. He squinted for a moment,
trying to adjust his vision to see the person standing on his lanai.

“That’s a good look for you,
haole
boy.” Amusement
laced the feminine words. Jack smiled at the pleasing tone. He opened his eyes
and was gifted with the sight of Kalama’s luscious mouth turned up in a grin.
Her dark eyes twinkled in merriment. She wore another curve-hugging tank top
and the shortest shorts he’d ever seen. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to
whoever created that particular piece of women’s clothing. Miles of bronzed,
shapely leg were a damn good thing to wake up to. This was definitely better
then yesterday when she’d hardly smiled at him.

“What?” Jack asked, smiling along with Kalama even though he
had no idea what she found so funny. Stifling another giggle, Kalama glanced at
his torso. Jack looked down. He stood in his doorway wearing an ancient pair of
green cotton boxers from his college days. To add to the horror of the already
uncomfortable situation, his buddy was peeking out from the flap, still very
happy from his recent dreams.

He turned his back to her quickly and made short work of
putting himself away. Kalama let out a full-bodied laugh and Jack found himself
joining in.

“Sorry about that,” he said, still chuckling. He gestured
for her to come inside.

“No troubles. I brought coffee.” Kalama held a white travel
mug of coffee in each hand. She brushed past him with grace and Jack inhaled
the exotic scent of her, plumeria or maybe maile. He didn’t know which but the
seductive scent danced around his senses, making Mr. Happy even happier.

“Thanks. I didn’t know there was coffee in that house. I
figured we’d get you some groceries today.”

“I walked down the hill to that cute café and picked it up.
It’s Farmer’s Market day in Hilo so you can take me there.” Kalama turned on
her heels and thrust out a cup to him.

He grabbed the proffered coffee, their fingertips brushing
against each other’s ever so slightly. The tiny touch sliced through him, his
nerve endings keenly aware of how delicious she looked. The wicked thought of
leading her to his bed and licking her luscious body into a frenzy took hold of
his brain. Jack let his gaze slide down the length of her, drinking her in from
the tip of her black hair to the curves barely concealed by her clothes to the
very tips of her flip-flop-shod toes.

“Maybe you should put some pants on.” Her voice was barely
above a whisper and he watched, enthralled, as her uneasy breathing caused her
amazing breasts to strain against that tank top.

“Am I making you nervous?” Jack took a few steps closer,
closing the distance between them. Maybe backing her against a wall and doing
wicked things to her body wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He smiled at the
sexy turn the morning had taken.

“No, Jack, but we need to keep this professional.”

“I promise you, when I bend you over that couch I will
entirely professional about it.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Kalama took a
single step backward. Jack couldn’t help noticing the lack of conviction in her
words. It spurred him on even more. Setting his coffee on the end table by the
sofa, he moved forward once more. Her nipples hardened under her tank top and
he couldn’t wait to taste them.

“We don’t have to use the couch. My bedroom is just a few
feet away and I have a nice, comfy queen.” Jack pressed his advantage until
their bodies almost touched. “Or if you really want, I can fuck you on the
kitchen counter.”

Kalama swallowed and backed up, letting out a soft squeak
when she encountered the wall behind her. Jack reached out and snagged her
coffee mug and set it down next to his before returning his attention to her
curves.

“Now, Jack,
no’ho po’no
.”

Jack placed a hand on the wall next to her head, effectively
trapping her soft frame against his. Lowering his head, he nuzzled her neck,
drinking in the sultry scent of her. Blood roared in his ears and his heart
began to pound. Logic told him he needed to back off, but his cock seemed to be
taking over. “What does that mean?”

“It means behave.” She sighed with what he hoped was
pleasure and tilted her neck, granting him more access to her soft skin.
Arching her back, she pressed her breasts against his bare chest. Jack hissed
as pleasure shot through him. He rocked his hips forward, rubbing his
thickening cock against the juncture of her thighs. The thin fabric of his boxers
stroked his erection as he continued to tease her.

“You don’t really want me to behave,” he said before nipping
her lower lip with his teeth.

Softer than a whisper, he skimmed his free hand up along the
curve of her body, over her flared hip and stomach until he stopped just below
the full swell of her breasts. He wanted to hear her say the words before he
went any further. “Tell me.”

The room had grown dark as if clouds blocked out the once
abundant sunlight. The dimming light cast interesting shadows along the curves
of her body.

“Jack.” Kalama looked up into his face, her eyes flashing
with desire. “Touch me.”

He needed no other command and slid his palm up to cup her
breast, enjoying the weight and fullness in his hand. Brushing a thumb over the
distended tip of her nipple, he toyed with the bud over the fabric of her tank
top. She shivered against him. Kalama slid her palms up his chest to rest on
his shoulders. Rising to her tiptoes, she licked his lips before claiming his
mouth in a demanding kiss.

Breaking off from her saucy mouth, Jack began to rain kisses
down her neck and cleavage. His hands roamed over her body, following every
curve and dip of her frame, stroking over her thighs. He slowly pushed up the
hem of her tank top, exposing the tanned flesh of her stomach. With his other
hand he toyed with the right strap of the garment, pulling it off her shoulder
to rubbing his jaw along the curve of her breast. She shivered under the
scratch of the stubble covering his chin. Yanking the strap down, Jack pulled
back to admire the expanse of skin his action had exposed.

He bent his head and sucked her right nipple into his mouth
through the fabric of her top. Still toying with the hem of her tank top in one
hand, he slid the other down her body. Kalama groaned low in her throat and
arched her back, offering him more of her breast.

He slipped his hand down her stomach and into the waistband
of her shorts. Her skin was like
pahoehoe
lava, smooth and scorching.
Dipping down, he skimmed his fingertips along the elastic of her panties. Her
stomach tightened. She closed her eyes and leaned her head forward, resting her
forehead on his chest and giving in to his touch.

“You’re right, don’t behave,” she whispered as she parted
her legs.

Jack traced his fingers along the soft curls, damp with her
need for him, for his touch. He slid one thick finger between her slick folds,
and then added a second. Bending his head he rained kisses down her jawline
while he finger-fucked her gently.

She raised one leg and hooked it around his hips, opening
her body to him even more. He groaned as his cock rubbed against her thigh. She
jerked in his arms as a crash of thunder split the air. The stormy weather had
come up suddenly, just as his lust for her had taken him over in a rush. The
desire to rip the clothes from her body and sink deep into the heat of her body
was all-encompassing.

“Yes, Jack,
auwe
, oh god.” She panted as he pumped in
and out her slick channel.

“That’s it baby, come apart in my arms.” Jack fingered her
faster, the scent of her arousal drifting up to his nostrils.

She lifted her head and opened her eyes, meeting his stare.
For the briefest moment, her once dark eyes seemed to blaze with red fire. He
couldn’t tear his gaze away.

Her hot, sweet muscles clamped desperately around his
fingers as her climax overtook her. Her beautiful face was the very picture of
desire. Jack rocked his hips against her in an effort to gain some relief as
she rode his finger to the very edge. The ground beneath their feet seemed to
rumble and shifted in time with her climax.

Finally she eased down and collapsed, boneless, against the
wall. Jack eased his fingers from her shorts and brought them to his lips.
Licking the digits clean, he met her gaze, never once wavering.

“You taste damn sweet. I can’t wait to taste you from the
source.”

“I think we should get started on that right now,” Kalama
said with a laugh, languidly pushing away from the wall and reaching for him.

A pounding on the door interrupted their play.

“Hold that thought,” Jack said, pressing a quick kiss to her
lips and reluctantly headed toward the door.

The rain was really coming down now. Such was the way in the
islands—the storms came on fast and left just as quickly.

Sam stood on the lanai, soaking in his blue HPD uniform.

“
Howzit
? Gonna let a
braddah
in?” he asked,
pushing open the screen door before Jack could answer. He stopped just inside,
taking in the sight of Jack, clad only in his boxers, and the disheveled Kalama
still resting limply against the wall. Jack wondered how he was going to
explain, but the wicked look in Sam’s eyes told him there was nothing he could
say that would fool his friend. “Hey,
sistah
. How you?”

Kalama smiled and pushed herself from the wall, scooping up
her coffee in the process. “Stay good.” She caught Jack’s eye and gave him a
secret little wink. He stifled a smile at her saucy comment. He’d just bet she
was feeling good after that orgasm he’d just given her. Now if he could only
figure out what Sam wanted and then get him out of here so they could pick up
where they’d left off.

“Oh no,
sistah.”
Sam ran a hand through his black
hair and shook it free of the raindrops. Jack took a step back in disgust.

“I’ll get you a towel, Sam,” he said, turning on his heels
and heading into the bathroom.

“Get some pants too,
brah.
Your boxers are scary.”

“Funny,” Jack answered and tossed the towel in his
direction. He pulled on a pair of jeans he’d picked up in the bathroom along
with the towel. Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited for Sam to get to the
purpose of his visit. “I assume you came over here for a reason other than to
drip on my floor and mock my weekend attire?”

“Right. Got a call this morning from the Bishop Museum over
on O’ahu. Seems our resident vandal is no longer confining his antics to the
Big Island,” Sam said as he toweled off his hair.

“Shit. This can’t be good.”

“You know those three Ku statues they have on exhibit over
‘dere? The one belongs to the Bishop but the other two are on loan from London
and a museum in Massachusetts,” Sam handed the towel to Jack and pulled out a
kitchen chair. He straddled it and waited.

“I remember reading about that special exhibit. Those tiki
carvings haven’t been together in Hawaii for over one hundred and fifty years,”
Kalama said as she moved closer to Jack. She’d picked up his coffee and held it
out to him. He smiled his thanks and took the proffered drink. “It’s a huge
cultural event.”

“It’s a good publicity stunt that’s for sure,” Jack said
before taking a sip of coffee.

“Those statues belong to the islands, Jack. They are sacred
representations of Ku, one of the most revered gods in the Hawaiian pantheon.”
She whirled on him, eyes flashing and nostrils flaring. Thunder crashed
outside.

“Okay. Okay. I get it. Don’t knock the cultural stuff or you’ll
pour the coffee on my head,” Jack said, holding out one hand, palm up.

“The gods live in those carvings. A
kahuna
could
entreat the deity to inhabit the tiki.” She swore under her breath and glared
daggers at him.

Jack stared. She was a feisty little thing. Full of passion
and moaning in his arms one minute and ready to tear his heart out the next if
he made any kind of crack about her beloved Hawaiian culture.

“Separate corners,
maninis
. At least until I’m
finished telling you about the big problem we have.” Sam rose to his feet and
took a step toward them.

“Sorry,
brah
, someone has vandalized the Ku statue
belonging to the Bishop. They took an ax to it and hacked big chunks out of the
‘ulu
wood. It’s destroyed,” Sam said, his word coming in a rush.