by N. D. Jones
“What do you mean you have to go? I thought—”
She kissed him—quickly, dismissively, but not without regret. “I’m sorry, Ekon. There’s something I must do before we can be together. Meet me in my suite in an hour?”
He glanced over his shoulder, likely wondering what Sekhmet had seen that had prompted her abrupt change in plans. “Your parents?” Ekon turned back to her. “Do you really see your parents, the way Mafdet believes you do?”
Mafdet may not have been able to see Zarina’s and Bambara’s ghosts, but she saw through Sekhmet with ease.
“I can. I know you can’t, but they’re making their way to the temple. Please accept my apology, but I must meet them there.”
Before he could delay her longer, she darted through the office and out the sliding glass doors. Racing up the hill, she followed her parents.
Her father transmutated into his lion form. Her mother did the same.
Corporeal. But how?
So slow, my hafsa. You are alpha now, show us the worth of your lioness.
Sekhmet gritted her teeth, pumped her legs and arms faster, and charged after her parents, enjoying the sound of Zarina’s playfully taunting voice in her head but not how far of a lead her parents had on her.
Humid wind whipped through her unruly hair. Grass crunched underneath her feet. The sun beat down on her skin, but memories of old warmed her heart.
Her father’s infectious laughter. Her mother’s quick wit. Her father’s good morning hugs. Her mother’s goodnight kisses.
Sekhmet stumbled and fell.
Her father’s praise. Her mother’s wisdom.
Bones broke—hard snaps that bowed her back and split her skin.
Her father’s prickly beard. Her mother’s golden-brown eyes.
Limbs elongated and jaw widened, producing roiling spasms of liberation and gasping shocks to her senses.
Their devotion—to each other, to Shona, to her.
Fur sprouted. Claws formed. Fangs descended.
Through golden eyes, she spotted her parents at the top of the hill.
Waiting for me.
Pushing to her paws, unsteady at first but more sure-footed with each step, Sekhmet continued up the hill. Devouring the distance between them with long, resilient strides, she surged forward.
Zarina and Bambara had indeed waited. Their magnificent corporeal forms stood in front of the archway to the Temple of Sekhmet. She thought they would enter upon her arrival. Instead, her mother nipped at her tail and her father nudged her neck with his snout.
She knew what both behaviors meant. But they couldn’t possibly want to play. Could they?
It seemed they did because Zarina nipped Sekhmet’s tail again, sprinting away before she could react.
Bambara tackled Zarina and Sekhmet paused for only a second before joining the fray. As always, she aligned with her mother.
Lionesses versus lion.
Sekhems versus khalid.
Her father swatted them away—his paws large but his attacks gentle.
Sekhmet ran, rolled, and roared. With each nuzzle and nip, each pounce and parry, Sekhmet fused with Asha.
Grief ebbed.
Bloodlust retreated.
Harmony beckoned. So too did the Garden of the Sacred Flame and her parents’ overdue eternal rest.
Together, they loped into the Temple of Sekhmet. Her parents claimed the freshly cleaned offering area. Bambara sat facing the archway with Zarina reclined beside him.
Equals in life. Equals in death.
The first time they’d left her, she hadn’t had an opportunity to say goodbye. Sekhmet nuzzled her mother’s neck and then her father’s, inhaling their scents one last time. They did the same to her. It wasn’t enough but she wouldn’t cry or complain. Instead, she would relish the moment for what it was—a gift from the gods.
Instinctively knowing what she had to do, Sekhmet walked behind her parents to where the goddess’s statue had once stood. Focusing within, on the love she had for Zarina, Bambara, Ekon, Mafdet, and Tamani, she envisioned Asha and Sekhem Sekhmet. They sat beside each other on the sand at Tideless Depths Beach, looking out at the crystalline water, a book with an image of the lion-headed goddess between them.
They spoke in unison, the froth of the ocean inching up the beach and toward their bare feet.
“Great one in the Garden of the Sacred Flame who rouseth the people, who reduceth to silence our enemies, we are pure, aware, beautiful eyes which giveth life to two forms.”
Power crackled inside Sekhmet like fire in a hearth. Her body transmutated—a new creation, an old form. Stepping back on human feet, Sekhmet slumped against the wall behind her, drained from the final merging of her two halves but also from the return of the goddess’s power to its proper place of containment.
Using the temple’s wall to steady herself, Sekhmet walked the interior of the temple until she reached the archway. Stopping at the opening, the sun shining behind her, Sekhmet wept but also smiled at the sight before her.
Sekhmet’s granodiorite statue had returned. No longer on a dais, she stood behind a statue of a lioness in repose, her hand on the lioness’s head, her other hand on the shoulder of the statue of a male lion to her left.
Goddess Sekhmet but also Sekhem Zarina and Khalid Bambara.
Immortalized.
One temple. Three resplendent statues.
Her parents were finally at peace.
Protected by Sekhmet’s sun. Thank you, my goddess. Thank you.
Chapter 17: Complete One
Ekon felt awkward, if not intrusive, being in Asha’s . . . Sekhmet’s bedroom without her. This level of intimacy would take time to get used to, as would thinking of and calling Asha by her sekhem name. Out of all the names Sekhem Zarina could’ve bestowed on her daughter, why had she chosen Sekhmet?
Ekon strolled from the desk chair where he’d been seated and reading one of a half dozen open books on the desk, to a bay window that faced the Temple of Sekhmet. The house was too far down the hill for Ekon to see the temple, but he could make out the rock-edge gravel path just fine. The sun was high in the sky, and Sekhmet’s requested hour was nearly at an end.
Sekhmet. Zarina’s faith in her daughter was unmatched. She had to have known how Asha would’ve interpreted her new name.
A nude figure appeared on the path—walking with purpose but not with speed. That’s my sekhem. You’ve rediscovered your balance. He looked forward to running again with her in lion form. It had been too long.
Ekon removed a purple wrap from the foot of Sekhmet’s bed, hung it on the outside doorknob and then closed the door. She may have had no choice but to return home without her dress, but he wanted to ensure she did have a choice when it came to when and how to share her naked body with him.
He returned to the blue leather chair, careful not to interfere with Sekhmet’s organized mess. Except for her desk, everything else in the room reflected her tidy nature, including her made bed, which, according to Mafdet, she rarely slept in since her parents’ deaths.
Full bookcases took up most of the available wall space. Even more books were piled in neat, small stacks in front of them, all with worn spines and dog-eared pages.
The doorknob turned, and a rush of nerves had him jolting to his feet.
Sekhmet entered, wearing the vibrant wrap he’d left for her. He’d never seen her in such disarray, and she smelled like an awful mix of blood, sweat, and sickness. Yet, to Ekon’s adoring eyes, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen because every foul scent, every bloodstain, and every wild curl flecked with gore were testaments to a war waged and won. Not against the Rogueshades but her aggrieved heart.
Smiling at Ekon, Sekhmet closed the door behind her.
Sekhmet. Yes, Ekon comprehended Sekhem Zarina’s choice of name. Who knew a daughter better than her mother? With or without the name of Sekhmet, Asha would’ve sought revenge, likely on her own because the young woman was too stubborn and independent. But
with the name of the goddess as her sekhem right, Zarina had indirectly yet masterfully sent Asha on an intellectual journey that would either result in her invoking the goddess or end with her exhausted from the search but having burned through her fury. A gamble but one Sekhem Zarina must’ve felt she had no choice but to take to protect her daughter from herself.
“Thank you for my wrap . . . and for waiting.”
Sekhmet glanced around her room, arms behind her back. Her nerves helped ease his own and made her infinitely more desirable.
“How are your parents?”
“At rest.” The smile that followed her response was like pulling back a curtain and letting in the rays from a newborn sun. “Finally. I have a surprise for you, Mafdet, and Tamani.”
“What kind of surprise?” Whatever it was, Ekon would love it because it brought a cheery smile to Sekhmet’s face.
“You’ll see tomorrow. We’ll go to the Temple of Sekhmet together.”
Sekhmet walked to her closet, opened the door and stepped inside. The walk-in closet comprised an entire wall, in front of which were four wide bookcases. Considering the number of garments felidae tended to ruin during their transmutation, most Shona homes were built with large closets. Within seconds, Sekhmet emerged from her closet, a white robe in one hand, a cosmetic bag in the other.
“Give me a few minutes to wash my face, brush my teeth, and then get in the shower.”
Sekhmet stared at Ekon, and it dawned on him that he hadn’t moved since she entered the bedroom. He laughed, expelling a breath he’d been holding.
“Nervous?”
“A little, yes.”
“Only a little? My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest.”
So did Ekon’s. He didn’t have much more experience than her, but he knew enough to make her first time a pleasurable one for them both. He appreciated her forthrightness. That hadn’t changed about her.
“Will ten minutes be enough time?”
She nodded.
Ekon watched Sekhmet walk to the same side of the room where he’d spied her descending the hill. Entering her en suite, she left the door cracked, presumably for him to follow when ready.
A drawer opened then closed. Water ran.
Ekon broke into movement. First, he dashed to the bedroom door and locked it. He couldn’t imagine anyone barging in on the sekhem, but he wouldn’t chance an overzealous housekeeper walking in on them. Second, he thumbed through Sekhmet’s music selections. Finding a band they both liked, he started the disc. Ambient music drifted from the radio CD player, suffusing the bedroom with textual layers of slow, instrumental music—piano and flute emulated through a synthesizer.
Third, he stepped out of his sandals and yanked off his clothes, tossing them onto the floor before recalling he wanted to make a good first impression. Letting Sekhmet see how he would upend her tidy space with his dirty clothes, if they shared a room as mates, was a truth best left for another night. Ekon picked up and folded his clothing, placing them neatly on Sekhmet’s dresser next to . . . a box of condoms?
Jealousy and possessiveness reared their ugly heads, but common sense had Ekon backing away from the dresser and his insensible thoughts of Sekhmet with another male. There was no romantic rival for her heart. But Sekhmet did have two mother figures in her life who would do anything to protect her, including from an unplanned pregnancy.
His heart slowed and his fists relaxed. He even laughed, when he noticed she’d used a strip of condoms as a bookmark in a book entitled Sekhmet: Goddess of Love. Only his Asha would be so oddly practical as to use whatever was in reach to save her spot in a book.
He heard water beating against the shower floor. How long had it been? Five minutes? Ten?
Ekon started for the bathroom but changed direction. Snatching the strip of condoms from Sekhmet’s book, he rushed to the bathroom door, pushing it fully open. Steam tickled his nose but didn’t obscure the sight of a naked Sekhmet behind a glass shower door, washing her hair under a spray of water.
He gulped at the sight. Breasts hung like tempting fruit. Hips flared with womanly sensuality. Legs, toned and strong, called to him, begging to be caressed, licked, kissed.
Ekon tore one of the condoms from the strip. Someone must either have an interesting sense of humor or poor taste in condoms. He held a green glow-in-the-dark condom with a smiley face. Ekon laughed. The condom was strangely perfect for their first time together.
At the sound of his voice, Sekhmet turned her head to the side, water sloshing down her back. Her grin had him fisting the condom and his dick twitching. Sekhmet’s eyes lowered to said region, and her wink gave him the last push he needed.
Ekon opened the glass door and joined Sekhmet inside the shower. Glass mosaic tiles led from the bathroom into the walk-in shower, a seamless transition. She turned to face him. The skylight let in the natural light, under which she stood.
He tossed the condom onto the built-in bench.
Her giggle was like a hug at the end of a long workday. “I see you found one of Mafdet’s many safe sex reminders.”
“No reminder needed.” Ekon wrapped an arm around Sekhmet’s waist and pulled her flush against him, repressing a moan at the softness of her body. “I’ll always do my best to keep you safe.”
“I know you will.” Sekhmet’s arm circled his nape and pulled him down to her, offering him her lips and her tongue.
Ekon accepted both. They kissed—unrushed and with hands that explored.
Fingers kneaded his back, and hands gripped her ass. Thighs rubbed against each other and pert nipples teased brawny chest. Tongues danced and muscles flexed.
Blindly, Ekon reached for and found Sekhmet’s wet washcloth and a bottle of bodywash. He’d smelled the scent on her before, a sweet and fruity fragrance he liked.
He lathered the washcloth with the gel, his mouth still fused to hers. Her hands had shifted to his chest, fingers toying with nipples as hard as her own. Ekon groaned into her mouth before pulling away. “I want to wash you.”
From the look and smell of her, she’d already showered. He must’ve stressed over this moment in her bedroom much longer than ten minutes. That was fine. His desire to cover her in scented soap hadn’t changed. If anything, seeing her sleek body supple and near, increased the urge to touch her everywhere before making love to her.
He shifted her away from the spray of water and then pressed her against the shower wall behind him. Smiling down into her golden-brown eyes, he touched her with the soapy cloth, rubbing slow, gentle circles over her breasts and nipples.
Sekhmet’s eyes closed. Her mouth opened. Exhaled. A hand settled on his waist, the other fisted at her side. Her head fell against the tiled wall, and he glided the cloth over breasts, down stomach, up shoulders, and around neck.
Squirting more gel onto the cloth and wetting it, Ekon bent to a knee. Experimentally, he kissed Sekhmet’s trimmed mound.
Her eyes fluttered open—dark and dangerous. “Do that again.”
Ekon intended to, but first he wanted to finish washing his sekhem. Hands skated up and down sexy legs, paying extra attention to the spots that left her moaning. He kissed her center over and again, not staying too long or pressing hard enough.
A rumble started in Sekhmet’s belly, so he kissed her there too, laving her belly button with a firmness he avoided applying to her clit.
“Toy with me at your own risk.”
“Will the warrior goddess devour me whole, if I don’t give you what you crave?”
“Come up here and find out.”
Ekon did, wasting no time getting to his feet and accepting Sekhmet’s hungry kiss. Spinning her around, he held her under the water. Pink soap ran down her body, circling the drain before disappearing within.
Then he had her pressed to the back wall again, fingers skating down her stomach and to her center. Gently, he massaged up and down her moist lips, sliding his fingers between them. With each downward motion, he slipped h
is finger in deeper, stopping when she’d taken him in fully.
It would take a lot to hurt a felidae female, even a virgin and in this sensitive area, but care should still be taken, proper respect extended to both her body and mind.
“Is this okay?”
Eyes closed, she nodded.
Ekon kissed her forehead. “Say the words, Asha.” He shouldn’t have called her that, but she would always be Asha to him, the girl who’d stolen his heart before he’d known it was missing.
She opened her eyes again, rolled her hips experimentally, and moaned at the effect. “You have my permission to touch me . . . to make love to me. I assume you grant me the same permissions.”
Taking hold of her hand, he filled it with a part of him that would soon fill her. “You have my permission for both.”
Sekhmet didn’t hesitate, not the way Ekon had. She stroked him, her hand slick yet firm. He was already hard for her, but she wasn’t yet wet enough for him. Ekon withdrew his finger then pushed it back inside—steady thrusts that had Sekhmet’s hand faltering on his dick.
Her first then me.
Ekon added a second finger, stretching her, preparing her, making her moan into the mouth that kissed hers.
Sekhmet clutched at his shoulders, rising on tiptoe and getting even closer.
In and out. He crooked his first two fingers, used his thumb to stroke her sensitive nub, and bent to take a nipple into his mouth—sucking hard and in rhythm with his strokes.
She clenched around his fingers, drawing him in deeper. His entire body ached to join them physically, but the moment was about her pleasure. So, Ekon gave Sekhmet what she needed—fast, hard penetration with his fingers and a mouth that bit and nipped every part of her he could reach, adding to her tactile sensations.
Ekon wanted to overload her system. He desired nothing more than to bask in the heady glow of an orgasm he helped her reach.
“Ekon. Ekon. Oh, ohhhh.”
Sekhmet’s walls clenched spasmodically, and warm liquid coated his fingers. He used the extra lubrication to add a third finger. The heel of his hand rubbed her clit, his fingers in deep, her orgasm a rolling wave of mutual pleasure.