Page 30 of We Were Meant to Burn (Ashes and Ruin Saga #1)

Something deep and guttural rumbled through the space—low and thunderous, vibrating around me like the distant roll of a storm.

It took several sluggish, uneven heartbeats to realize it wasn’t thunder.

It was snoring.

Loud, unrelenting, monstrous snoring.

I peeled my eyes open, lids heavy like someone had poured molten iron on my lashes. The first thing I felt was warmth—but not the blistering, suffocating heat of the Endrina Jungle, and not the bone-dry scorch of the Rojano desert either. This was different. Softer. Richer. Like being wrapped in the fading light of a sunset.

I blinked at the ceiling, expecting rough stone or the sharp sprawl of stalactites overhead. But above me, vines curled in elegant spirals, their deep green tendrils woven with blossoms the color of flame and sea—crimson and sapphire, clinging to polished beams.

They hung down like some kind of living chandelier, swaying ever so slightly with the movement of a warm breeze pulsing through the room. Fireflies drifted lazily between the vines, their glow catching on petals and wood like stars caught in a dream.

My body still felt all wrong. Too heavy. Too light. Like I was floating in someone else’s skin.

And then the real question settled in.

Where in the hells am I?

The last thing I remembered was the fight—flashes of movement, shadowHounds tearing through the trees, the agony screaming through my neck, and Malakai’s voice—raw, frantic—begging me to hold on.

Then nothing.

Now . . . I was somewhere else entirely.

My fingers curled into the blanket beneath me, bracing for the scratch of coarse linen or rough wool, but what I felt instead was impossibly soft—like moss woven with clouds. I blinked down at the deep maroon fabric, textured with smoky gray sheep’s wool, and scattered with delicate white lily petals.

I lifted a handful, watching the petals slip through my fingers and tumble gently back into my lap.

Not a dream.

But it sure felt like one. Looked like one, too.

I turned my head slowly, every muscle stiff and uncooperative—and then froze.

There, sprawled across what could only be described as an oversized rosebud masquerading as a sofa, was Dom.

I stared, caught completely off guard. He was slouched into the petal-like cushions, arms folded loosely over his stomach, chin resting against his chest. A shaft of sunlight poured in from a nearby window, painting golden stripes across the sharp lines of his face, warming the tan of his skin.

Even in sleep, that damn furrow between his brows remained—like the weight he carried never quite left, even in unconsciousness.

And then—goddess—the snoring.

Sweet Las Madres, the snoring.

It was deep, relentless, like a beast slumbering in a cave. I was honestly surprised the whole room wasn’t vibrating from the force of it.

Despite everything—despite the pain, the confusion, the ever-looming dread—I smiled.

Because this version of Dom? Unguarded. Somewhat peaceful. Human.

It twisted something in my chest. Something I didn’t have a name for.

He was always so controlled. Always looking ahead, calculating the next step, the next threat. But right now . . . right now, he looked younger.

And something about that made me feel protective of him.

My fingers drifted to the spot just above my heart, pressing lightly over my marca. The skin there still tingled faintly, as if the magic lingered just beneath the surface.

I knew Dom had tried to rid himself of his marca—the jagged “X”

burned into his skin was proof enough of that. A brutal scar. A reminder he carried like a curse.

But I couldn’t help wondering . . . did he have one like mine? A mark given by Quiacatl?

The thought was ridiculous. Pointless. And yet it clung to the edge of my mind, insistent and unshakable.

More important than that, and infinitely more terrifying, was the truth I hadn’t let myself fully sit with yet: Dom was my kin.

Blood.

My family.

My real family.

The word felt too big, like it didn’t belong to me. Like it had been carved from someone else’s life and shoved into mine.

I hadn’t had time to process it before the shadowHound attack, before everything fell apart.

And now he was right there. Sleeping just feet away. Oblivious.

Blissfully ignorant of the truth that would change everything between us.

But I wasn’t ready to tell him.

Not yet.

I shifted carefully, eyes scanning the room for any sign of Malakai, Lian, Elías, or Kerun. Or Xixi, who was probably off chewing through something important.

But the room was still.

Empty.

Just me and Dom.

Why him? Why was he the one left to watch over me?

And where was Malakai?

The ache in my chest stirred, deep and unwelcome.

Had something happened to him? Had he left?

Or worse—had he seen me break and decided I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore?

My heartbeat stuttered at the thought of him.

Malakai.

The last thing I remembered was his face hovering over mine, eyes wild, hands slick with my blood as he pressed desperately against the wound. His voice had cracked when he called for Elías—cracked like something inside him was breaking.

And the way he looked at me . . . like losing me wasn’t an option he was willing to accept. Like he’d tear the world apart first.

I swallowed hard, dragging myself back to the present and forcing my gaze around the room.

The walls weren’t like anything I’d ever seen—thick, knotted wood, hand-carved with curling vines that twisted and stretched like they might still be alive.

Blossoms bloomed in the window frames, petals vibrant and dewy, and the air was heavy with the scent of pentas and honey.

It was too quiet, and with the unease worming through my gut, it was suddenly too warm.

The flickering light that danced along the walls didn’t come from torches or candles, but from clusters of fireflies floating midair, their golden glow shifting like breath across the floor.

This wasn’t an infirmary. It wasn’t a hideout.

It was something else entirely.

Adele.

The memory slammed into me like a wave, breaking through the exhaustion clouding my mind.

Malakai had brought me to Queen Adele.

Which meant . . .

I should be dead.

Because Dom had been clear—there’s no cure. No way to stop the Capitol’s poison once it sank into your blood. No healing it. No outrunning it.

The only antidote came from Aguatitlan.

And yet—

I was here.

Breathing.

Alive.

Why?

And at what cost?

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders as I tested each limb. My body protested—weak, heavy, aching in places I hadn’t even known could ache—but the fire that had once roared through my veins was gone.

The shadowHound’s poison hadn’t taken me.

Which meant . . . Malakai had done the impossible.

I wasn’t sure how. I didn’t know what it had cost him. But I was here. I was alive.

A fresh wave of exhaustion dragged at my bones, thick and relentless, but I fought it off. I wasn’t ready to let sleep take me—not yet. I needed to know what had happened. I needed to find Malakai.

But when I looked toward Dom, still slumped in his makeshift bed of petals, something stopped me.

He’d stayed.

Dom, who barely tolerated me when we first met. Who’d looked at me like I was nothing more than a problem waiting to happen. Who’d ignored the whistle when I called for help. Who fought every inch of trust we tried to build.

And now, he was here.

Keeping watch.

My throat tightened.

I didn’t know what that meant. Not yet.

But I would tell him.

About the marca. About who I was. About what it meant—for both of us.

Just . . . not now.

Now, I would let him sleep.

I slipped from the bed with slow, deliberate movements, careful not to wake Dom. My body still felt weak, but the poison was gone, leaving only exhaustion and a strange weight in my chest. I barely remembered arriving here, barely recalled anything beyond Malakai’s voice, his hands pressing against my wound, his desperation as he begged me to hold on.

The thought of him sent something sharp and urgent through me, and before I could second-guess myself, my feet were already moving.

The moment I stood, the fabric of my gown brushed against my bare skin like a whisper. I froze.

I wasn’t wearing my traveling clothes.

A silken blue gown draped over my body, featherlight and soft as air. It was nothing like the practical, battle-worn leathers I’d worn since childhood. The bodice was fitted, cinched at the waist with delicate red lace that wove around me like vines. Fine embroidery lined the long, flowing sleeves, and the layered chiffon of my skirt floated around my legs with every step, as if stirred by an unseen breeze.

Someone had dressed me.

My stomach twisted at the thought. I didn’t like the idea of being vulnerable, of having been unconscious while someone else handled me like a fragile thing. But there was no time to dwell on it—not when my mind was consumed with one singular need.

Find Malakai.

I padded silently across the moss-covered floor, the cool softness pressing against my feet, and eased the wooden door open.

Warm air kissed my skin the moment I stepped outside, thick and humid, carrying the scent of earth and blooming flowers. The world beyond the hut was unlike anything I had ever seen.

Towering trees stretched toward the heavens, their enormous trunks wide enough to hold entire villages within them. Their massive leaves, each spanning several feet, shimmered with golden light as the sun filtered through their emerald canopy. Suspended from the colossal branches were wooden structures built into the trees themselves—homes, shops, platforms woven together with sturdy vines. Rope ladders and wooden bridges crisscrossed through the air like the threads of an intricate web, connecting the structures into a sprawling, living city high above the jungle floor.

I opened my mouth to speak, but wonder stole the words from my lips.

A hesitant step forward. Then another.

A familiar voice cut through the air like a blade.

“What do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

I turned sharply, my pulse kicking up at the sound of Malakai’s voice.

I had spent the night clinging to that voice.

It had been my anchor through the haze of pain and darkness, the only thing tethering me to the world when my body had wanted to let go.

And now—now, he was here, whole and real before me.

Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading up my neck and across my cheeks, an instinctive reaction I couldn’t control.

My lips twitched toward a smile before I could stop myself.

Malakai leapt down from the wooden platform of another hut, landing with the easy grace of a man who had spent his life moving like liquid through the world.

But as he straightened, I took in the disheveled state of him—his silver-blonde hair a tousled mess, his clothes rumpled, as if he hadn’t slept.

His violet eyes, sharp even in the dim light, held something unfamiliar. A haunted look. A shadow of something raw and unspoken.

The moment his gaze locked onto me, the expression shifted.

His eyes darkened, dragging over me in slow, careful sweeps, like he was trying to convince himself I was real.

If it were possible, I thought he might devour me whole with his eyes alone.

The way he looked at me—Las Madres.

It was like a firestorm in my chest, a thing both unbearable and impossible to ignore.

But then his jaw clenched, and his expression hardened.

“You should be resting,”

he scowled, his voice rougher than usual.

I folded my arms, determined to ignore the way his voice sent shivers down my spine.

"Where are we?”

I asked instead, my gaze lifting to the breathtaking city above.

The golden canopy stretched far into the distance, the leaves glistening as they caught the sunlight, painting everything below in shifting shades of gold and green. The air buzzed with life—birds with iridescent wings flitted through the branches, butterflies danced along unseen currents, and the steady hum of insects filled the silence between us.

Malakai exhaled, his gaze following mine toward the treetops.

“This,”

he said, voice quieter now, almost reverent, “is El Valle de los Sue?os.”

Flowers swayed gently around me, their petals shifting in the warm air, releasing a delicate perfume that mingled with the scent of damp earth and wood. Leaves rustled overhead, their edges catching the light, shimmering like veins of gold. Laughter bubbled through the air, high and musical, as a group of children zipped past on translucent wings, tossing an oversized flower bud between them in a game of keep-away. Their movements were effortless, gravity-defying, their laughter bright and untethered.

It was beautiful.

It was also utterly surreal.

I turned to Malakai, my heart hammering in my chest.

"What happened? How did we get here? How am I even alive?”

The words tumbled from my lips in a rush, my mind struggling to catch up with the impossible reality of it all.

Malakai watched me, his violet eyes unreadable.

"We were already close to the border of El Valle when you were bitten,”

he said, his voice uneven and haunted, like he was still carrying the weight of my near-death.

"I knew the Hada were the only ones who could save you. Their knowledge of magic is ancient—older than any kingdom, any empire. They know rituals that the Bruja have long since forgotten.”

He exhaled, his jaw tightening.

"The Hada saved your life.”

Confusion tangled in my thoughts.

"But Dom said the shadowHound poison couldn’t be healed by a Curador.”

Malakai’s mouth curled in a humorless smirk.

"That’s because it was designed to counter Bruja magic, not Hada.”

He tilted his head toward the towering trees surrounding us.

"The Aguatitlans haven’t encountered a Hada in centuries. They believe my people to be extinct.”

My gaze snapped to his.

"Then how did you convince them to help?”

Malakai had said it himself the first time we met: the Hada didn’t interfere in human affairs unless it benefited them.

"What did you promise them?”

Malakai hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

“I may have . . . traded my sword to the queen in exchange for healing you.”

I stared at him, my breath catching.

"Your Bloodguard sword?”

The words tasted wrong, like they didn’t belong in my mouth. My stomach twisted with disbelief.

"But it’s priceless. Forged in the fires of the Lomas del Fuego, earned through years of training and discipline—”

My voice wavered.

"How could you just give it up?”

He bit the corner of his mouth, his expression unreadable.

"It was just a sword.”

“Just a sword?”

I repeated, my voice sharp with incredulity.

"That sword is everything to you, Malakai.”

His violet eyes softened, something raw flickering in their depths. “No,”

he murmured.

"You’re everything to me.”

That simple phrase undid me.

The space between us shrank. His fingers reached for me, an unspoken desperation in the way his hand sought mine. I stepped forward, closing the distance, pressing my face into his outstretched palm. His breath hitched.

His fingers trailed along my jaw, his touch featherlight. Reverent. His thumb brushed the curve of my lower lip, sending a shiver rippling down my spine.

“Why?”

The word was barely a whisper, trembling at the edges.

I needed him to say it.

I needed him to tell me this wasn’t just about obligation or guilt.

That I wasn’t just a job to him. That the job may have been what brought us together, but it wasn’t why he had stayed. Why he cared. That this thing between us was more. That it meant something.

His grip tightened, his other hand weaving into my hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of my skull.

His breath mingled with mine, the warmth of his body pulling me in, tethering me to this moment, to him.

“You know why,”

he murmured, his voice low, rough.

Not the words I wanted. Not quite.

But close enough. Whatever pride I had left in my body fled at the look in his eyes.

My heart pounded as I let go of everything else—the fear, the uncertainty, the weight of what had come before—and let myself drown in him.

His scent wrapped around me, fir needles and something darker, something undeniably him.

It seeped into my skin, as intimate as his touch, as intoxicating as his warmth.

His lips hovered just inches from mine. So close. Just one breath away.

Then—

A crash.

The sound of something heavy falling inside the hut.

I jerked back, my body still humming with unfulfilled tension, my mind clawing its way out of the haze Malakai had pulled me into. His expression darkened, frustration flashing in his eyes as we both turned toward the hut just in time to hear a loud thud, followed by a groggy curse.

There was a shuffle, the sound of something knocking over—a chair? A table?—then another grumbled complaint.

I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingers to my temple. Of course.

Malakai let out a quiet chuckle, the heat between us momentarily broken.

"Let me guess, Dom’s snores woke you in the first place?”

I snickered, shaking my head.

"Pretty much.”

Dom stumbled out of the hut, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and blinking like he wasn’t quite convinced the world around him was real. His gaze landed on me, and he did a double take, as if expecting to see my corpse instead of me standing there in the flesh.

Malakai released me with a sigh.

"Well, that’s the last time I’m putting you on watch.”

Dom’s bleary expression sharpened, and before I could react, he strode forward and clapped me on the back hard enough to rattle my ribs.

"Glad to see you didn’t become—unalive,”

he said, voice rough with sleep but laced with something softer. Something dangerously close to sentimentality.

I coughed, catching my breath, and shot him a teasing look.

"So you like me now?”

“Pshaw,”

Dom scoffed, crossing his arms like I’d just accused him of a heinous crime.

"Don’t get carried away. You’re a pain in my ass and you have control issues.”

I lifted a brow. Control issues? That was rich coming from him. He was a kettle on the precipice of boiling over at the slightest inconvenience.

Dom’s lips pressed into a thin line, like he knew exactly what I was thinking but refused to acknowledge it. “But,”

he muttered, “you may have grown on me.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest. I fought the urge to reach for the spot over my heart, the place where my marca burned beneath my skin. My family. He was my family. I wasn’t ready to say it aloud, not yet, but I tucked the knowledge deep inside me like a fragile ember.

Before I could find the right words, Dom snorted.

"You should’ve seen Mal, he was beside himself.”

Malakai stiffened beside me and elbowed Dom—hard.

Dom scowled at him.

"What? Well, you were,”

he muttered under his breath.

I turned, about to tease them both for looking like they’d been through a hurricane, when a boyish voice rang out.

“Nix!”

Kerun.

I barely had time to brace myself before he came flying down the ladder, Xixi right on his heels. The alebrije didn’t even bother with the rungs—she simply leapt from the landing above, her massive paws thudding against the wooden platform before she collided into me, knocking me off my feet. She yipped, her warm tongue dragging across my face in enthusiastic greeting.

Kerun, seeing her display, seemed inspired. He eyed the landing below, then dropped the last few feet with reckless abandon.

Malakai barked his name, scolding him for being careless, but Kerun only grinned and shrugged him off, making a beeline for me.

“You’re alive!”

he said breathlessly, flinging his arms around my neck before I could react.

"Elías owes me fifty tenos.”

His grin turned devious, like a cat that had just caught a particularly stupid bird.

I huffed a laugh, hugging him back.

"Yeah, kid. I made it.”

Kerun pulled away, shuffling his feet, suddenly looking sheepish.

"I—um—I made you something. For when you woke up.”

He reached into his pocket, hesitated, then pulled out a delicate ring of white flowers strung together.

"Elías made me pick only the healing plants to make it, so it’s not all that nice looking.”

I glanced up at Malakai as I got to my feet, who was watching Kerun with a fond expression.

I took the flower crown from him carefully.

"It’s beautiful.”

I placed a hand on his shoulder.

Kerun’s ears turned red.

"You really like it?”

I nodded.

"Will you put it on me?”

His face went scarlet. For a second, he looked like he wanted to flee, but he squared his shoulders, determination flickering in his eyes. I bowed my head slightly, and he placed the crown on my head with the utmost care, adjusting it until he was satisfied.

Once done, Kerun stuffed his hands back into his pockets and slinked toward Malakai. Malakai immediately grabbed him by the shoulders and ruffled his hair.

“You’re all right, kid. You know that?”

Malakai said, voice warm.

Kerun shrugged, trying for indifference, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

I looked away, something in my chest tightening. This wasn’t meant for me. I was an outsider, peering in through a crack in the wall. I watched Malakai—the way he was their guide, their leader, their mentor, their father, all at once. I could see how they fit into his life.

But how did I fit into his life?

Malakai’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Hmm?”

I blinked, forcing myself to focus.

“I asked if you’d like to see the Valley,”

he repeated, his voice as smooth as honey.

"The queen has invited us to partake in El Día de Las Madres. Until we leave, I thought you’d like to take a look around.”

My breath hitched. El Día de Las Madres.

Had it really been a year already? A year since the battle of Yoatl. A year since my capture by the Aguatitlans. A year since everything in my life had fractured into something unrecognizable.

It felt like a lifetime ago. As if the person I had been before was someone else entirely—a ghost of a girl who hadn’t yet been broken, reforged, and made into something stronger.

Something better.

Something stronger, a voice whispered in my head, soft but certain.

I glanced down to find Xixi staring up at me, her foxlike face unreadable. My brows furrowed. Was that . . . you?

She simply huffed at me like I was being incredibly dense, before slinking off to join Kerun. The little menace nudged him with her nose, no doubt encouraging some form of mischief.

“It wasn’t an invitation,”

Dom muttered, crossing his arms.

"Your mother demanded, more like.”

The words barely registered at first. But then—

Mother.

Malakai’s mother?

I whipped my head toward Dom, my hands planting on my hips as the pieces snapped into place.

"Did you just say his mother is the queen?”

My voice came out louder than I intended.

Dom’s face was blank, but I could see the regret creeping in.

Slowly, deliberately, I turned to Malakai.

"And you didn’t think to mention that?”

His pointed ears burned red.

"I could’ve sworn I told you,”

he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dom launched into a very convenient coughing fit.

My eyes narrowed.

"No. You didn’t. That would’ve been a hard-to-miss detail.”

Malakai hesitated for half a second before flashing me an innocent grin.

"Surprise?”

I gaped at him.

Dom, wisely, started creeping away.

Malakai caught the movement and whirled toward him.

"Wait—why are you scooting away? You can’t leave me alone with her when she’s mad at me!”

Dom was already backing toward the nearest ladder.

"I enjoy living, thank you.”

With a final grin, he waved and disappeared over the ledge.

I inhaled sharply through my nose, still trying to process the revelation.

"Is there anything else I should know? Anything that you’ve conveniently left out?”

Malakai winced, then shrugged in a way that was infuriatingly casual.

"Maybe . . .”

I punched him in the shoulder—gently. Sort of.

“Malakai!”

He laughed, catching my fist in both of his hands. “Mercy!”

His eyes danced with amusement, but then he did something that made my stomach plummet. He lifted my hand and pressed a lingering kiss to my knuckles.

Heat raced up my neck, and my chest tightened as his lips brushed my skin. Damn him.

“Forgive me?”

he murmured, violet eyes locking onto mine. There was something else there now—something deeper. Something that made my pulse stutter.

I swallowed. Hard.

Malakai looked at me like I was something worth seeing. Like he could see into me, past the walls I had spent a lifetime building, past the shadows that clung to me like a second skin. And he didn’t flinch.

I wished I could see what he saw.

“No more secrets,”

I warned, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

Malakai’s expression softened. He pulled me into his arms, and without thinking, I melted into him, my head resting against his chest. His warmth, his scent—it surrounded me, wrapped around me like something dangerous. Something I wanted more of.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,”

he murmured against my hair, his voice a gentle hum against my ear.

I tilted my head back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. Our faces were close now—too close. I could see the silver flecks in his irises, the way his lips parted slightly as he exhaled.

“No details spared,”

I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“None,”

Malakai promised, before pressing his lips to my forehead.

And goddess help me, I wanted more. More of him. More of this. More time alone.

I also thought about all the things I wanted to know.

About his family. His childhood. The places he’d been, the things he’d seen.

I thought about his dreams, his hopes, his biggest regrets, and his deepest fears. I thought about all the reasons he had to run from me and all the reasons he had stayed.

I thought about the way he listened to me, the way he saw me, the way he protected not just me, but his entire crew. I thought about how he promised to be there regardless of what happened—how he was always there. How, no matter the chaos or the danger, he was steady. How he was safe.

How I trusted him. Truly trusted him.

That trust had crept up on me, slipped past my defenses, and settled in my bones before I could even question it. I had told him things I had never spoken aloud to anyone. He had seen parts of me no one else had ever seen—parts I had spent years keeping locked away in the dark.

I thought about how beautiful he was. How handsome and strong, but also how gentle.

And goddess, how that terrified me.

My fingers twitched at my sides, and before I could second-guess myself, I reached for him, looping my arm through his. His warmth seeped into my skin, and I didn’t pull away. Instead, I tilted my head up toward him, searching his face.

“Tell me about what it was like to grow up here,”

I said softly, my voice barely above the hum of the jungle around us.

He turned to look at me, and when he smiled, it was like the sun breaking through storm clouds. That slow, lazy grin that never failed to make something tighten in my chest.

“I’d rather show you,”

he murmured, a gleam of mischief in his violet eyes.

And before I could ask what that meant, he pulled me forward, guiding me deeper into the heart of El Valle de los Sue?os.