It was a strange feature, likely the result of some type of glamour meant to make them seem more striking. After all, her ability to heal him with a single touch proved she possessed talents beyond that of a normal human, as did her foresight into his visit—and he was powerless not to ask over her methods.
“How did you do that? And how did you know to expect me here from the start?”
The questions curled her lips into a smile, and instead of removing her hand from his newly healed ribs, she raised the other to press against his opposing side in answering.
“We each have unique talents, Mathias, and I've expected you since the Oracles told me of your presence in Sutrelle. It looks as if you've expected to come here as well.”
The last was spoken as her fingers drew over the outlines of muscle in his chest and abdomen, tracing the contours in a shameless inspection of his physique—and he knew precisely what she meant. He'd trained hard, honed his skills as well as his body to earn approval, and if the admiration in the Grand Priestess' eyes as they roamed over his form was any indication, he had it.
Such thoughts made it impossible to stop his body from responding to her touch, his cock stiffening even as he answered her observation in ire.
“I did. My entire life, I worked hard to prove myself worthy of being blooded because the oracles claimed I have potential. Yet I've watched others with less skill pass into these halls first, and grew tired of waiting.”
Canting her head, she held his gaze curiously. “You sound angry.”
“I am,” he retorted, though it wasn't easy to focus on their conversation when her gaze was so entrancing, to say nothing for how close she stood.
It was so dazing he merely heard himself asking, “So why have I been ignored?”
Her smile grew seductive as she drew in so close their bodies pressed, her hands dipping down to find the clasp of his pants in asking, “Do you know what the blooding entails, Mathias?”
He shuddered, barely able to answer, “One of the blooded must exchange blood with the chosen mortal.”
“Yes, but not every human who's passed into these halls is chosen for a blooding. Some merely provide blood as nourishment, others come to serve as Oracles. Even fewer are chosen to wed the Goddess.”
He held her gaze in surprise. Wed Kalara? Was that even possible? Mathias didn't know, but the way she opened his pants made him want to believe anything was possible.
Still, he found the presence of mind to ask, “I would be … her husband?”
Soft chuckling sounded with her answer. “Nothing so grandiose, Mathias. It's merely symbolic. Like Artair, you'd become one of my personal protectors after taking your rightful place among the blooded.”
His heart skipped in response to her phrasing. Rightful place? Was that her official approval? He wanted to ask, but found himself speechless when she slipped her hand into his pants and grasped his cock at the same time her lips met his.
Instantly, his chalice clattered against the floor, all questions forgotten as he grabbed her in a tight hold to deepen their kiss.
Her moan of enjoyment drew a new wave of lust through his body, but though she sounded pleased, the Priestess broke contact sooner than he would've liked by pulling away with a rasped breath and sensual smile.
Prying his arms from her body, she stepped back and stated formally, “You do have potential, Mathias, as well as fortitude, determination, and dedication. These are all traits Kalara admires in mortals, but most of all, she appreciates men who take fate into their own hands as you have today—and that is why you were ignored. She needs protectors who are unafraid of forging their own path.”
Despite his eager state of arousal, Mathias stared at her, baffled to realize his wait had been a test. He was worthy of blooding, but wedding the Goddess required a more direct approach—and his heart skipped when the Priestess added on a silken tone, “I admire such a traits in men as well. The only question left is how badly you want what you've come to gain.”
The Priestess punctuated the statement with a slight lift of her arms away from her shapely body as if in offering—and further clarification wasn't necessary. Mathias had no intentions of ignoring this chance, and immediately reached out to grasp the linen concealing her breasts, tearing the material away in a single, fluid motion.
A smile curved her lips in response as he gave her skirt the same treatment, leaving her in nothing more than the silver pendant hanging around her neck—which briefly captured his attention.
Before removing her top, the bauble attached to the chain was concealed. But now, he could see it looked rather expensive, comprised of an iridescent crystal at the center of a silver disc with strange letters etched into the surface.
Curious, he reached for it without thought.
“What is this?”
Smirking, she covered the pendant with a fist and answered, “A gift for years of devout service. One I will never remove.”
If that was her wish, he could certainly respect it, and ignored the item in favor of pulling her in to lift from the floor.
Still, in carrying the woman to her bed, curiosity assailed him. Who could say what her years of service entailed that warranted the gift of a simple pendant, or how she ever became Kalara's physical embodiment from the start.
But such thoughts gave way to other questions, and as he deposited her upon the mattress, it was impossible not to ask, “Do you truly have no name of your own?”
With a languid smile, she laid back and lifted her arms to rest above her head, painting a lovely picture that nearly distracted him from her response entirely.
“Perhaps not, or perhaps that's the one thing you've yet to earn.”
Climbing over her, he gave a roguish smirk in retorting, “Then I'll see what I can do.”
— ONE —
Port Said, Egypt
Approximately 5000 Years Later
Present Day
Isadora didn't know a single fae who could resist the alluring beauty of sparkling gems, herself included—the fog left by her breath upon a jewelry store display case was solid proof.
Amused by her eagerness to inspect one item in particular, the shop attendant opened the display and asked in French, “Is green your favorite color, mademoiselle?”
“I love all colors,” Isadora replied enthusiastically, gaze fixated on the emerald-studded diamond necklace and matching earrings the man extracted to sit before her.
The way it all glittered in the light stole her breath. Not only did the smaller diamonds glisten around the emeralds, several silver pearls were fastened to the chain between the stones, giving the set an elegant feel she adored.
Gingerly touching a segment, Isadora uttered in awe, “It's so … sparkly!”
“Would you like to try it on?”
“Oh, that's not necessary, I already know I'm buying it!”
Chuckling, the attendant remarked, “C'est merveilleux! It's an excellent piece to be sure. So tell me, is this for you? Or a gift?”
“This one's all mine,” she answered with a grin.
Leaning forward, he asked conspiratorially, “It's good to treat yourself from time to time, no?”
Giggling, Isadora agreed, readying her card for use as he walked away to package her purchase—and ignoring the rest of the gorgeous jewelry on display wasn't easy. She'd only come to Port Said to work a little witchcraft for a local couple trying to conceive a child, not spend all of her money in this shop alone.
Not that money was an issue, or even integral to a fae's survival—her kind didn't need food or housing. Nature itself provided those things, and as for frivolous items such as jewelry, she could easily charm the human attendant into offering the necklace and earrings for free.
But such an act would be akin to stealing, and she was certainly no thief.
So money helped with trivial matters, and Isadora had plenty to throw around. Casting spells for people in need and reading fortunes was lucrative, to say nothing for
the work she performed for a wealthy family of draconians who were longtime friends and always paid extremely well.
Because of this, the amount she was about to spend was the furthest thing from her mind, and instead, she was more focused on the door chime signaling a new customer's entry.
For Isadora, looking wasn't necessary to know who'd just entered the shop. All fae could sense the life force of other beings, including their species and gender, and the newcomers were two humans, a male and female.
Still, she glanced back out of sheer curiosity to see they were holding hands, and as the male led his girlfriend to the display of engagement rings, she understandably cooed and mentioned her inability to choose a favorite. I know what you mean!
The sentiment put a smile on Isadora's face as the man pointed to a large diamond in the center row and remarked, “Look at this one.”
Seeing it, the woman chuckled. “Three thousand dollars? I wouldn't own it entirely until our 115th wedding anniversary.”
Grinning, her fiance insisted, “But you're worth every bit.”
With no idea anyone was watching, the woman's eyes filled with affection before she gave him a quick, loving kiss.
In turn, Isadora's smile faded, her head canting to the side in curiosity. She'd watched couples express love in such a fashion many times over the course of her life, and never once did it fail to intrigue her. The emotion always seemed so genuine, and even more remarkable was the shared glint in their eyes, as if the two were connected and felt precisely the same way.
It made her wonder. While the concept of affection was easily understood—Isadora loved her friends and fae sisters unconditionally—it was so different between mates. There was an intimacy to it she'd never experienced, and witnessing that kind of adoration in others always made her wonder what it would be like to have such companionship for herself.
Sadly, despite her long search for such a connection, no one had ever truly tempted her, or even given her butterflies the way her fae sister, Adriana, described feeling for her mate, Bryant. Apparently, anytime the werewolf showed any type of affection, she said it felt like a swarm of butterflies were going wild in the pit of her stomach.
It was hard to imagine what the sensation was actually like, but Isadora couldn't help thinking the humans standing a few feet away were probably experiencing it that very moment.
As she had the thought, the attendant returned with a black velvet box containing her purchase, and threw out a greeting to his new customers with the promise to help them momentarily.
Once he finished, she didn't hesitate to lean toward him and ask quietly, “How much is your most expensive engagement ring?”
“Around three thousand dollars,” he answered just as softly. “Why?”
“Because that couple is looking for one, but I don't think they have a lot of money to spare,” she explained. “So would it be possible to prepay that amount?”
Realizing she wanted to buy their ring, a bright smile lifted the attendant's lips. “Ah, what a lovely gesture! But … ,” he started, eyeing the couple, “what if they don't pick a ring that costly?”
“Then pass what's left to the next person who walks in,” she returned, adding as if it were common knowledge, “Everyone deserves a chance to own pretty jewels!”
With a fond smile, the attendant slipped her box into a bag and slid it over, remarking, “You, mademoiselle, are a treasure.”
Snickering, Isadora thanked him, then started for the door as soon as the transaction was completed. On the way, she gave the couple a friendly smile, and wasn't surprised when they stared longer than normal—humans were particularly susceptible to a fae's natural charm, and they ignored the attendant entirely until she exited the front doors.
Outside, seagulls cawed from the nearby docks as Isadora walked along the promenade, wanting to put some distance between herself and the jewelry store before the couple realized what she'd done and tried to follow. She hadn't prepaid to earn any favor, nor did she want them to attempt talking her out of the decision.
She only wanted to end her visit to Port Said by spreading a little joy.
Sadly, though Egypt was one of her favorite places, it always seemed as if her trips were too short to be significant. Later that day, she'd be traveling to the states to fulfill a request for magical assistance, and stopped at the end of the promenade for a chance to admire the scenery before leaving.
Leaning against the railing lining the waterway, she gazed out at the vessels sailing by under a clear sky. The closest was docked, being a cargo ship with the name S.S. Malvos printed across the side, and the crewmen were using cranes to unload several intermodal containers while others transported smaller crates onto a nearby truck.
Their endeavor wasn't the highlight of the view, but the men captured her full attention when one carelessly dropped the end of a somewhat lengthy, wooden crate. As a result, the container smacked against the pavement with what sounded like damaging force, earning a reprimand from his supervisor.
“Be careful with that! The contents are fragile!”
As the workers scrambled to ensure nothing was damaged, Isadora stared at the large container, brows drawn over her eyes. It certainly didn't look out of place, being a plain wooden box sealed with a few leather binds. But something about it was extremely strange, distracting her to the point that she nearly didn't realize her phone was ringing.
Still, she tugged the device out quickly enough to answer before the caller hung up.
“Hello?”
“Isadora, I'm glad I caught you. Are you busy?”
Though preoccupied, she immediately recognized the voice of Victoria Dra'Kai, a draconian in charge of a spy network Isadora assisted. But her tone made it difficult to say whether this call concerned official business, or something more casual.
So Isadora replied, “Busy? Not specifically, or at least, I wasn't a minute ago.”
“No? Did something happen?”
“I'm not sure,” she started, staring at the crate until it was loaded into the back of a large truck with a covered bed. If she didn't know better, she'd swear there was a living being contained inside it, and while that was questionable in itself, the strangest part of all was that she couldn't tell what type.
Were animals being smuggled inside? People?
The thought of either possibility was enraging, and the fact that Isadora couldn't distinguish anything specific suggested magic was being used to block attempts at learning more.
It was possible these humans knew about the supernatural after all, and were trying to transport something otherwise illegal. She'd once located a crate of baby wyverns stored on a cruise liner to be delivered to poachers in Ithelyon, and it wasn't out of the question to think something similar was happening here.
If so, it seemed their efforts hadn't gone unnoticed—after a moment, Isadora realized she could sense two other fae somewhere in the surrounding area. One was a sun fae, the other a storm, and knowing they could detect her presence just as easily as she sensed theirs, it was impossible to let this go without learning more.
The only problem was the fact that it looked as if the truck would be departing the docks soon, leaving little time for snooping.
So when Victoria asked her name, she returned in short, “I'm in Port Said investigating some strange cargo from a ship called the S.S. Malvos. Do me a favor and look it up to see if the crew has any questionable history, and I'll call you as soon as I know more.”
Thankfully, Victoria trusted her well enough to agree without requesting details, and it wasn't until Isadora hung up that she realized she had no idea why the draconian called her from the start.
But she could find out later, and returned her phone to her jeans' pocket on the way to the docks.
It was just a shame her surroundings weren't more … natural. A green fae such as herself could easily disappear in nature, but man made environments weren't as easy to blend into. Still, most of the workers were
preoccupied with other tasks, and even if they'd paid her any attention, it wouldn't be hard to enthrall them long enough to walk by without being questioned.
So she simply walked up to the back of the truck, then cast a cautious glance around to make certain no one was looking. But the closest humans were all several meters away sorting through more cargo.
Thankfully, the presence of her fae sisters hadn't dwindled either, though she'd yet to make visual contact with them and wasn't sure of their precise whereabouts. Still, knowing they were nearby was reassuring, and she didn't hesitate to climb into the covered bed.
The crate containing the questionable life force was settled to the left, though her closer proximity didn't help in determining what was stored inside. So she maneuvered between the other containers stored nearby for a closer examination, and not only found several locked latches around the lid, but more interestingly, a number of air holes were drilled into the sides.
If that didn't prove something living was contained within, the moment she tilted her head to attempt peering through the holes, her nose was hit by the sharp stench of decay.
“Ugh!”
Sitting back, Isadora eyed the crate again, her heart thumping in fear. Had someone—or something—been held inside so long it passed away?
The mere thought was enraging, and to ascertain whether the being was sentient, she asked softly, “Hello? Is someone in there?”
The various sounds coming from the docks made it hard to hear, but it almost sounded as if a raspy breath had emanated from within.
So she went on, “I don't want to hurt you, I'm just here to—oh!”
Startled, Isadora jerked when two humanoid fingers poked through the air hole closest to her face to curl around the edge. What's more, they looked to belong to someone elderly, the skin blotchy and nails long, even ragged.
“Who … are you … ?”
The female voice coming from inside was so soft and airy that she had to strain to hear it, and didn't hesitate to answer, “I'm someone who wants to help, because I'm pretty sure you weren't put in this crate by choice.”
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