Mayan Lover
Authors: Wendy S. Hales
Wendy S. Hales weaves a tale of
sensuality and seduction that has everything a reader could want. Her
voice is distinctive and she uses it to send you to a world of pure
fantasy. This is one of the most unique stories I've ever read and
the twists and turns not only edify me, they educated me as well. I
learned about a culture, about a place, and, because of the emotional
depth contained in the story, a little about myself.
~Kerrigan
Byrne, Best-selling Author of
Unspoken
and
Unwilling
Entwining an ancient love into a
present day love triangle and tossing in a cosmic storm, Hales
creates the perfect sultry, suspenseful, romantic trifecta. A sexy
Mayan Journeyer, a vulnerable archaeologist who greatest fear is
falling for the wrong man again, and the demon who broke her, prove
"Mayan Lover" to be another stellar example of Hales’
ability to write emotional stories that stay with you long after you
close the book.
~Harley
Brooks, Author of
Riley’s Pond
Wendy Hales is not just gifted
with imagination--she's gifted with an incredible ability to create.
I would compare her storytelling to Karen Marie Moning. I can only
imagine how mind-boggling are the worlds she conjures for a
full-length novel! One day, fantasy readers will discover her and
she'll have a cult following if she doesn't already. I was completely
entrenched in the lives of these characters. But the greatest
compliment I can award any writer is that I forgot I was
reading--like being under water and forgetting the need to breathe. I
spent the day in Central America drooling over the hero. And this
story will stay with me for a long time, I'm sure of it.
Brava! I was pleasantly,
ecstatically, surprised.
~L.L. Muir,
Author of
Going Back for Romeo
Mayan Lover
A Time Travel Novella
By
Wendy S. Hales
AMAZON
KINDLE EDITION
PUBLISHED
BY
Wendy
S. Hales
Mayan Lover © 2012 Wendy S. Hales
All rights reserved
Amazon
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this
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This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters,
places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or
have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or
organizations is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by
Kelli Ann Morgan
www.inspirecreativeservices.com/
Formatting by
Bob
Houston eBook Formatting
Editing by Alisa Carter
The
Professional Editing Edge
ISBN:
978-1476121925
To my husband.
You love my quirks, encourage my wackiness.
And when I ask, “why do you love me?”
Your answer is to smile and say:
‘Because I’m supposed to’.
A huge thank you to my beta readers: Kim, Shavaughn, Lacey and
Ashley, for taking the time, letting me pick your brains about every
detail and giving me honest feedback.
To my sister, Patty, for always being there. Putting aside everything
when I need you. Doing so much to help me every step of the way. And
being the most amazing sister and friend anyone could ever have.
To my children, I’m so proud of you. You lift me up, make my
life complete, and fill my world with laughter.
A special thank you to the readers of Mayan Lover.
The further his feet took him through the
village, the more his stomach knotted. His path had been dictated by
the position of the earth, moon, and planets at the moment of his
birth. As the Journeyer, he’d prepared for this night all of
his life. It didn’t make the future any less inundating.
“Did you hide it well, my son?” His
mother stood beautiful and proud at the entry to the sweat lodge.
“Yes, mother. I will be able to find it at
the end of my Journey.” Arka noted the moisture his mother
quickly blinked away. It had taken Arka ten years to lovingly create
the detailed skull offering from the raw amethyst-colored quartz
crystal his mother had gifted to the Goddess of Moonlight.
His mother pursed her lips, though her chin had
a slight quiver. “You are sure it will remain safe?”
He pulled his mother into a hug. “I must
trust the gods to keep it safe now.”
“Did you speak with your sister?”
His mother held the embrace.
He nodded sadly with his chin resting on his
mother’s hair. The goodbye with his beloved little sister was
still fresh in his mind; Gia had wrapped her small arms around his
neck when he’d squatted down to look in her ten-year-old,
tear-streaked face. “I don’t want you to go, Arka,”
she had cried. “How come the gods can’t send someone
else’s brother?”
“It’s my destiny,” he had
explained for the hundredth time. “Gia, you will have many
children. Tell them of me; keep me with you in your memories, as I
will keep you.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you,
sister.”
His mother sighed sadly and clung to him tightly
a few more minutes, and then she pushed his chest, squared her
shoulders, and dipped her head. “I bid you good Journey. You
carry the weight of the gods’ bidding, but also the love of
your mother…” Her voice broke and trailed off.
“I leave you with a son’s love.”
He dipped his chin to her in return. Her concern over his hiding
place was justified—if the skull where uncovered before his
arrival, all would be lost. Their eyes met one last time before she
gave him a nod and walked away.
Arka shed his loincloth and took one final look
at the village below, absently tracing the intricate tribal tattoo
declaring him Journeyer from his right mid-abdomen to his thigh.
Inscribed on his body during infancy, the ink, like the Journey
ahead, had always been his defined reality. Great passage of time
meant great change. He vowed to face the changes ahead with honor.
The sun dipped low on the horizon, gracing his
view with shades of orange and purple. Light smoke lifted from the
clay homes and rose to merge with the clouds, which moved in slowly
from either side of the sky on track to clash into a violent,
fast-moving storm.
Each home had a small garden for herbs, sweet
potatoes, and prickly cactus. Beyond the community were fields of
maize, squash, cocoa, and enough beans to sustain the village.
Irrigation trenches emerged from the surrounding dense forest and cut
through the terrain in an intricate pattern. The gods were good to
their people.
Naked except for his jade and crystal totem,
leather-bound and tied at his ankle, he lifted the flap and entered
the steamy sweat lodge to be purified. This would be his final chance
to spirit-walk, to feel the strength of the goddess’s life
force. Once they’d met nearly every night in dream, her face
and body obscured in silhouette. Long, nearly white curls shone under
the light of the moon that always caressed her. Then, for reasons he
did not understand, the dreams ended. Once he’d reached
manhood, did his undeniable attraction to her silhouetted image
offend her?
Legs crossed, he set his wrists palm up on his
knees and cleared his mind. Deep breaths of steam, sage, and incense
filled his lungs, making him light as air. Glowing moonlight flooded
his vision. A ripple through the light held him spellbound. After all
this time, would the Goddess of Moonlight appear to him again? Would
she remember him? Regulating his heart rate, he peered through the
ripple with bated breath.
“Arka.” A voice from deeper in the
lodge startled him back into himself. At first he thought it was her,
though he’d never heard her speak aloud. They communicated by
shared mental images as children. She stepped through the fog, had
she grown tall and lean over the past six years? “I wish to bid
you good Journey.” Disappointment and annoyance flared when he
realized who spoke.
Arjuna dropped to her knees in front of him, her
brown eyes liquid with tears. Dark brown braids hung from either side
of her head and brushed the deep pink nipples of her small breasts.
He knew the feel of her soft tan skin intimately.
“Arjuna, you are not to be here. We said
our goodbye last night at ceremony.” Arka tried to disguise his
irritation. Arjuna had been his manhood rites priestess. At her hand
he’d learned to give pleasure to a woman. Against tradition,
she had grown attached in a manner that should anyone discover it,
would make her the target of scoff and ridicule.
Beautiful and a few years older than Arka, she
was the only barren widow of young age in the village and currently
the only rites priestess. Every young man had been sent to her for
training, yet at pleasure ceremonies when she could have any unmated
man she wanted, she always sought him; including last night.
“I wish you to travel with my crystal,
Arka. Without you I no longer desire protection for my life force.”
She untied the straps of the leather-bound pouch from her neck.
Women wore Crystal totems at the neck. He didn’t
want to hurt Arjuna’s feelings by refusing the gift, nor would
he risk dishonoring the Sun God, Moon Goddess, and the Goddess of
Moonlight by accepting her offer.
Arka held up his hand, unwilling to defile his
purification by touching her. “You know I cannot. It is
forbidden to travel with anything bound to the spirit of another.”
She sighed and retied it to her neck. Her tan,
silken skin beaded with sweat; he could smell her arousal. “You
must leave, Arjuna” To go into the land where the Goddess of
Moonlight lived in human form with the scent of another woman felt
like sacrilege.
She stood quickly with a snorted sob. The brush
of cool night air surged in, receding the layers of steam. Arjuna
looked back. “This magic won’t work. Your soul will be
lost while I mourn you.” Then she was gone.
His chest constricted. She’d voiced his
greatest fear. His Journey was dependent on those at the other side.
What if none waited?
Faith.
He struggled to reconnect with his
faith in the stars, the sun, and the moon; with his belief that the
Journey destined for him would not be futile.
“It is time, my son.” The voice of
his father rang from outside the flap.
His eyes fluttered open.
Time.
He drew in
a deep breath and held it in prayer.
May
you guide this
servant’s path to the Goddess of Moonlight.
He released the
breath and rose.
His father, dressed in heavy ceremonial shaman
robes, held the large, crystal-clear skull of the sun god, Kinich
Ahau, by the jaw. His father dipped his head in greeting. From this
moment forward, no earthy words were allowed spoken. Silently they
walked up the rain-soaked trail toward the sacred Temple of Seasons.
Lightening ripped across the sky and thunder
shook the earth beneath his feet. His mind felt freed by a euphoric
sense of divine purpose. The storm raged around them, yet as they
reached the monument, the winds calmed. The stones were dry despite
the deluge of rain.
At the base of the sacred temple steps, Arka
bent to one knee as his father climbed ahead of him. His father
reached the top, turned, and met Arka’s gaze, slowly lifting
the sun god’s skull high above his head. The crystal eyes lit
from within and illuminated the three hundred and sixty-four steps.
Every thirtieth step, which represented a lunar cycle, glistened in
blood. A shaman stood on each, holding one of the twelve skulls
honoring each completion of a moon phase needed for the Sun God to
begin life anew.