She stepped closer to the bike, eyeing it suspiciously for a few seconds before letting her fingers tug the material of her dress up. She lifted her leg to cross over the seat.
Theo started the engine.
“Hold on.”
“Just go.” Her reply was curt and she did not put a hand on him.
With a shrug, he did what he was told, peeling off from the spot at a modest speed before picking up the moment they hit the open road. He had to hurry to get her to the hotel and in the hands of his other agents because the beast inside, the one that had lain dormant for the past two hundred years, had awakened at the sight of her spirit. Theo didn’t know why, nor did he care. All he knew was that this could not happen. Not here and definitely not now.
The air was different here.
Still warm, like at home, but rubbing along her face and bare arms with a sense of newness that almost made Shola smile. Almost.
Instead she sat with her back board-straight behind this man who was hired to be her bodyguard for the next couple of weeks, as he rode fast through dark streets. In the distance, she could see light, so much light in an array of different colors amidst the near black backdrop. There were tall buildings in that distance. A city. A place she’d never been before. Her home was nestled along the river, in a small village full of Yoruba people who looked and spoke like her. They were the reason she was here. The reason that she lived.
Shola rested her fingers on her thighs. She sucked in this new and different air, releasing it slowly through partially parted lips. Glancing down at the material of her dress bunched between her legs, her bare knees pointing outward toward the night filled her with a weird yearning. It was an odd position to be in with a stranger, one that caused a rush of warmth to spread throughout her body. That was new as well. So many new things in such a short span of time.
The dress was ridiculous. She had known that the moment her mother brought it into her bedroom.
“It is proper attire for where you will be going,” Ejaita told her only child. “There will be other ceremonial preparations you will experience once you arrive in the Western World. Your baba and I will arrive the night before the wedding.”
Like Shola, her parents had never been anywhere else in the world. They were part of the River Tribe and had no intention of being anything else. She was only one of a couple hundred in their village who had received an education in African and Western studies. So she knew of some things that she would find here in this world and of the basic meaning of this union between her and Warrick Camden. As long as it meant her people would live safely on their land forever, Shola was up for learning more. She was ready to do more.
“Your baba and I are very proud of you, Shola. We know you will make an excellent wife, and we are very happy for you,” Ejaita continued.
The tears that welled in her mother’s eyes were a direct contradiction to her words. While her parents had always been proud of her educational achievements and when she became a teacher, Shola knew they were not happy about this arrangement. No one in the village was happy the day that Warrick appeared and made his pronouncement.
“It is what is meant to be,” she had replied to her mother, because it was the truth.
She was promised to this marriage before she was born, and now it was time to live up to that agreement. Now, riding through the streets of this new city, she told herself she was closer to the time she had waited for her entire life.
“We’re almost there,” the bodyguard yelled over his shoulder.
His very big, squared shoulder. The man was huge, tall, broad and more ominous than any of the warriors she’d seen back home. She had noted that the moment Monife, general of the Odò Guard, had stepped out of the way and Shola had her first glimpse of him. He’d stood in front of a large and imposing bike, which seemed to match the rider as he was over six feet tall and easily two hundred and fifty pounds. Jeans covered muscled thighs, and a fitting T-shirt stretched over a broad and formidable chest like one of the shields designed for the Odò Guard. His skin was a much lighter tone than hers, almost the color of straw, and his hair was dark and curled tightly to his scalp.
“Thank you.” It seemed like the right thing to say even though he had only used a gruff tone with her since their meeting.
He was doing her a service for which she should be grateful. She did not know her way around this place called Burgess, nor did she know where the wedding or any of the other ceremonial events would take place. Monife had given this bodyguard the envelope with all that information. She did not mind not knowing the details; all that mattered was what she was sent here to do.
The bodyguard leaned slightly to the side as he turned the bike around a corner, and they rode down a narrow street. Buildings stood on each side of the street, clubs of some sort. She could tell by the signs above the entrances and the names that these weren’t clubs she would ever frequent. Ballers, Twilight, Siren and Swingtime were lit up like Christmas trees, lines of people outside each door, cars pulling up on the street adding more people to the crowd. The bodyguard drove straight through. Noise was all
