The way the firelight played across her skin made him think that he could see the magic inside her.

She was whispering something, the hush of it mixing with the breeze. It was another language, spoken so softly, and in a gentle tone that he’d never associated with Kekona Kalani. He longed for Gwen to sit at his side and translate for him. Just as quickly he changed his mind, because this moment of solemnity and peace was so unique and mesmerizing that he wanted to enjoy it for what it was. The puzzle was part of the appeal.

The whispers stopped. Keko’s head lifted slightly, her gaze going into the trees and brush.

“Thank you,” he said.

She didn’t jump, which told him she’d likely already known he was awake. Her hands slid to the ground near her hips and she looked over her shoulder at him, her hair swinging in shadow, nearly touching her waist.

“For the fire,” he clarified.

“You were shivering.” Flat tone, flat eyes.

He wasn’t fooled by her act of generosity. She would still try to lose him. She’d make him think she was acquiescing by having him tag along, maybe even try to seduce him so he’d nearly die from orgasm, go all moony-eyed, and then she’d disappear. He knew those games and wouldn’t fall for them. But he didn’t have Adine’s little toy anymore, and he had to keep her as close as possible for as long as possible. Let her think him dumb and malleable, if in the end it gave him an advantage. If it allowed him to keep a close eye on her.

She slid her legs out from under her body and sat perpendicular to the fire, hands wrapped around her knees. Great stars, her legs were long, that caramel skin such a gorgeous color.

“What were you doing?” he asked.

“Praying.”

He didn’t know what surprised him more. The fact she’d answered so quickly, or the nature of her answer itself. “To whom?”

She looked confused. “The Queen. Of course.”

He sat fully up. “The Queen who died when she found the Source. She became a deity after that.”

Her eyes narrowed, her face just above the tips of the flames between them. “Yes.”

“So what do you pray for?”

Keko answered slowly. “What people usually do. What do you pray for, Griffin?”

He sat cross-legged. “I don’t. We don’t. Ofarians give thanks and pay homage to the stars twice a year, but we don’t have a god or goddess that looks out for us. We don’t have religion.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Huh?”

“What you just described. It’s religion. You believe the stars gave you your magic, right?”

He swept a long, arching look across the sky that was slathered with twinkling lights. “Not exactly. Ofarians came from somewhere out there, somewhere else in the universe. Our magic came from our home world, but it’s the stars we can see as we stand here on Earth. So it’s the stars we acknowledge.”

“You have rituals? Things you do and words you say that you believe make you stronger?”

“Yes.”

Her hands left her knees and slapped lightly back down. “It’s religion. Yours is less tangible, but no less a faith.”

Now this was getting interesting. “Less tangible?”

“Well, yeah. You worship something that doesn’t actually give you power, but a substitute.”

“We don’t ‘worship’ the stars.”

She acted like she hadn’t heard him. “But we worship the woman who gathered all the Chimerans together from all across Polynesia and New Zealand and Southeast Asia. She dreamed of the ‘land of raging fire’ and took us across the sea to find the wellspring of our power. Here. We owe her everything. She was real.” Another light slap to her knees. “Tangible.”

“Huh. I’m not sure I follow you.”

She flicked her eyes skyward. “We came from up there, too, you know.”

Griffin couldn’t hide his surprise. “No. I didn’t know.” Still such little knowledge about the other elemental Secondaries. Did it frustrate the other races as much as it frustrated him?

Pulling all her hair into one hand, she started to braid it. “In a meteor shower, the story goes. There was something in what came through the atmosphere, something that affected portions of the population in the South Pacific. Something that mixed with the fire magic that was already present in the Source, and it changed some of the people.”

Absolutely fascinating, but Griffin couldn’t find his tongue to tell her so.

Now Keko swung her legs around, too, sitting tall on her hips, her white tank top nearly glowing in the night. “That’s what the Queen did. She found all of us, scattered over hundreds of places and islands, and brought us together. Taught us how to use our magic. She only wanted what’s best for her kind. It’s why she searched for the Source in the first place, to make us all stronger.” Keko licked her lips. “It’s why I’ve asked her to bless my purpose now.”

“And that purpose is . . . ?”

She almost answered. Almost. Keko opened her mouth, took a short breath, then changed her mind, lips pressing shut.

“You want to be a goddess,” Griffin said.

Keko’s eyes glittered like black diamonds. “No.”

“But you want to lead.”

“You know I do.”

With a hard pang he realized this was the easiest they’d spoken in three years, since the final time they’d been alone in that hotel room. Easiest, but also the hardest, because so much of what he’d told her was lies.

Every time she brought up the Senatus and he had to deny its involvement, he felt an invisible knife gouge into his heart. And every time he had to pluck that knife out and ignore the doubt and pain welling in its place, because Keko’s life and safety—and the protection of the Source—was worth more than the truth at this point. He would deal with the truth later. When she could listen and actually hear it.

Picking up a stick, he poked at the fire. It flared more than his poking warranted, and when he glanced up he saw the flames reflected in her penetrating eyes.

“So your Queen brought all the Chimerans to these islands. Did they make the great migration with the Primaries, when the other cultures settled here?”

Another burst from the fire, this time without him touching it at all. “Someone read the tourist brochure.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is that how it happened? Did you cross the ocean with them?”

Again she lifted her eyes to the stars, as though consulting the objects he still wouldn’t name as deity, no matter what she said.

“Is it some sort of secret?” he pressed.

She lowered her chin. Met his eyes. And it took all his strength not to react to the intensity of her direct look, not to let her see the shiver that shook his spine.

“No. I guess not,” she said. “No orders or kapu or anything like that.”

“So . . .”

She fidgeted with something on the ground, shot a blank look into the shadows, looked anywhere but at him. “So, yes. We came over with the Primaries.”

Holy shit. He couldn’t hide his excitement. “You were at one time integrated with them. Lived together.”

“That’s what the tales say, yeah.”

“What happened?”

“What do you think happened? When we came here, so close to the Source, our magic increased. The Queen became more powerful. We scared them and separated ourselves.”

It was a different time then, he told himself.

“They made up stories about us. How we lived in volcanoes and made them spew ash and fire. How we demanded sacrifices. How we held power over the common people.”

“Sounds a lot like some of the Hawaiian folktales.” Yeah, he’d read the tourist brochures, and anything else on old Hawaii he could get his hands on, once he learned where Keko lived.

She looked half amused and half annoyed. “Or maybe the folktales sound like Chimeran history. Stories and legends are usually made up to try to explain real things that you don’t understand.”

“True.” He frowned in thought. “So explain the Chimeran name. Isn’t that Greek?”