by Nina Bruhns
But several minutes later, she caught his eye while sipping her wine. “I didn’t mean it,” she mouthed.
He dabbed his lips with his napkin. “You think I don’t know that? What did they threaten you with?”
“Your banishment.” She reached for a sweetmeat. “You?”
“My severed head.”
She dropped her spoon with a clatter. A trio of shabtis rushed to her aid and the exchange was ended when Seth glared at him suspiciously.
Rhys leaned lazily back in his chair and pretended drunken indifference. But what he really felt was fury. Fury and helplessness.
One word kept echoing in his mind.
Duty.
Seth saw taking Gillian as his goddamn duty.
When Rhys longed to love and cherish her forever.
It wasn’t right. Serving the god was supposed to bring an eternity of pleasure and contentment. Up until now, it had. At least...he’d thought so. But he realized that somewhere along the way, things had gotten twisted around. He feared Khepesh was going the way of Petru—bright in appearance but dark of spirit.
Too bad there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Unbidden, Seth’s earlier words returned to him.
Haru-Re has tried for ages to recruit you. Why not let him?
He blinked, and slowly an idea began to form in his mind.
On second thought, maybe there was...
Chapter 31
Eat! Drink! Be merry!
For tomorrow we shall die!
—Imhotep, Third Dynasty architect
It took Gillian two days of feigned resignation, lying through her teeth, and carefully planned subterfuge to find what she was looking for.
A way to escape.
She was carefully examining the yellowed-parchment floor plan of Khepesh that she’d managed to excavate from a long-untouched shelf in the stacks of the library. She hadn’t had much time for searching because Nephtys had kept her busy for hours studying the ritual she’d be performing in two days, memorizing the ancient words of magic spells she’d need for her life in Khepesh, then each evening testing her memory on what she’d learned. Worse, the library was arranged in a totally foreign system handed down since the dawn of writing, based on the hieroglyphic alphabet—which of course wasn’t really an alphabet at all, but ideograms.
Good grief. Who would have thought those impromptu childhood lessons by the precocious ten-year-old Josslyn, conducted in sidewalk chalk in front of their Hyde Park Chicago home, would pay off in such unexpected and lifesaving ways? Her sister would be pleased.
A pang of homesickness stabbed through Gillian, and she wondered what her sisters were doing now. Did they miss her terribly? Or had Rhys really put a spell on them so they had never questioned her disappearance? She almost hoped he had. She didn’t like to think of the sorrow she might be putting them through.
Which was exactly why she was doing this.
Of course, she’d been shouldering her own share of sorrow these last two days. Rhys had avoided her completely since the welcome feast. Which was a good thing. Really, it was. If he hadn’t been making sure their paths didn’t cross, she’d have been the one doing it. As much as she longed to see him, his death or banishment was too high a price to pay for continuing a relationship doomed to end in grief.
Brushing aside forlorn thoughts of those she loved, she concentrated hard and studied the parchment floor plan, looking for remnants of the traditional Old Kingdom tomb architecture that had to be hidden somewhere within the rabbit warren of Khepesh’s rooms. The yellowed-parchment plan was so old, even she recognized that big bits of the current palace were missing from the drawing. No doubt, the palace had been expanded and remodeled countless times over the five millennia of its existence.
She just needed to find the original tomb of Seth-Aziz. The one she’d discovered in the side of the cliff that day with Mehmet and Dawar. A day that seemed a lifetime ago.
She knew there was no possible way she could escape through the monumental silver double doors of the Great Western Gate, through which she’d come with Rhys. But if she found the inside of the old, abandoned tomb, maybe, just maybe, she could find the hidden sliding-stone passageway and slip out through it unnoticed.
She had to try.
Her eye caught on something the drawing revealed that she hadn’t expected. “Oh, wow,” she exclaimed softly. “Secret passages!”
She’d had enough experience as a child traipsing after her father on his digs and surveys that she had no doubt about what she was seeing. Like the hidden sliding-block mechanism she’d discovered, secret passageways were also a rare but telling architectural feature during the Ptolemaic period. Eagerly, she sought out the revealing narrow lines that marked their routes through the palace. Khepesh seemed to have its fair share, connecting the various wings in a concealed network that hinted at clandestine meetings and illicit affairs. There were even two passages that ended inside the temple compound close to her own rooms.
But her excitement deflated as she realized not one of the hidden passageways led to the outside world. She’d have to stick to her original plan. The old tomb with its sliding-stone entrance was her only chance.
Not to flee Khepesh. No, she had come to accept that her life as she’d once known it was over. Even if she managed to get far, far away, Seth would surely find her and bring her back. Or kill her. Of that, there was no doubt whatsoever. She knew too much. The secrets of the per netjer were too precious to risk her spilling them to the outside world.
She was not willing to die for their secrets—not a chance. Nor was she willing to be turned into a zombie. Her only real option was to go along with their plans and hope to change their minds about her at some point...preferably sooner than later.
Any other choice on her part would also spell the death of the man she loved. Totally unacceptable. She would suffer any pain, any sacrifice, to spare his life.
No, she had accepted her fate.
But she must get a message to her sisters. To tell them she was fine, and not to worry about her. But more important, to let them know their mother may still be alive and that Gillian was searching for her. That she’d get word to them somehow when she had more news.
All she needed was to slip out for an hour or two. Just long enough to find someone to deliver her note. Then she’d come back and face her fate as bravely as she could.
After all, there were far worse things than living a life of luxury as the wife of a vampire demigod.
Forever.
Weren’t there?
Suddenly, she peered closer at the parchment floor plan. Excitement flooded through her as she gazed at the original Old Kingdom tomb of Seth-Azis, tucked into a remote corner of the palace.
At last!
She’d found what she was looking for.
A way out.
Chapter 32
At the height of the afternoon heat, when the priestesses of the temple and nearly all of Khepesh were in quiet repose, Gillian set her plans in motion.
The good news was, she would have no trouble locating the entrance to the old tomb. It hadn’t been sealed, or even disguised. The bad news was, the only way to reach it was through a portal in the constantly-in-use council chamber.
Time was ticking away. She had to do this today. Who knew when she’d next get the chance? So, from a hiding place with a good view of the council chamber door, she settled down to watch for her best opportunity.
She caught a break when the council members, who were still debating day and night how to answer Haru-Re’s threat, adjourned for a few hours’ rest. As the last counselor left the chamber and exchanged a few words with the guardian of the door, she managed to slip past them into the darkened room, secreting herself behind a chair until the guard closed and locked the door with a loud snick.
She was stuck now. Committed.
With her pulse thundering like a herd of hippos, she whispered a magical phrase Nephtys had taugh
t her, to raise the level of flame on one of the ever-burning torch sconces on the wall. It sprang to life, and she lifted the torch from its holder, needing it to illuminate her hand-drawn map and light her way through the dark, disused tunnels.
In no time at all, she found the sliding-block and pulled the lever to open it up to the old tomb’s outer chamber.
Crawling through and hurrying to the tomb’s opening, she had to sit in the sliver of shade just inside the mouth for ten full minutes before her eyes adjusted to the blinding summer sunlight of the Egyptian desert. After three days and nights below ground in the realm of the God of Darkness, she felt like a groundhog emerging on February second.
She peeked out from between the towering sandstone cliffs of the gebel, getting her bearings. There was no trick to finding civilization—and an appropriate messenger. She just had to head for the Nile River Road, clearly visible less than a kilometer beyond the foot of the gebel.
She made quick work of the hike down the steep path to the valley below, and was just leaning her butt against a large boulder to take a sip of water from the jug she’d brought along, when the sound of falling pebbles alerted her.
Someone was coming!
Swiftly, she ducked behind the boulder.
A donkey rounded the corner carrying a welcome familiar figure. She let out a breath of relief.
“Mehmet!” she called, jumping out from her hiding place.
“Miss!” He greeted her with popping eyes. “But— Where—? How—?” His gaze darted nervously up the cliffs to the hidden tomb. “Are you dead, miss?” he asked, far too earnestly for comfort.
“No, Mehmet. I’m not dead. And I really need you to do me a favor.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, his hands clutching the rope tied around his donkey’s muzzle, his bare heels gripping its belly as if he wanted to kick it to get the hell out of there, but didn’t dare. “Anything, miss.”
She walked over to him, reaching into the pocket of the simple cotton dress she’d donned for her excursion. She pulled out an envelope containing the letter she’d carefully composed, and held it up. “Mehmet, I need you to deliver this to my sisters. Can you do that?”
He eyed it uneasily, then glanced around again. “Certainly. Of course, miss.”
He jerked his hand out to take the envelope, but his donkey suddenly shied, letting out a loud bray, and his grab missed. He cursed roundly in Arabic. She was glad she didn’t understand most of it.
“Boys your age shouldn’t know those words,” admonished a deep, masculine voice from the trail above them.
Oh. Crap.
Fear flooded through her.
Damn it!
This could get ugly.
Chapter 33
Rhys stepped out from the shelter of the gebel where he’d shifted from al Fahl back to his human form, fuming at what he saw.
How in the name of Isis had Gillian escaped Khepesh?
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman?” he demanded.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she retorted, whipping something behind her back.
“Sentencing me to death, that’s what,” he shot back.
He should be angry with her, but he couldn’t find it beneath his fury at Seth. Hell—at himself, for getting into this situation to begin with.
She let out a gasp of denial. “No! I was coming back! I swear I was.”
His brows hiked. “You really expect me to believe you managed to break free only to return to your perceived enslavement?”
“Yes!” Her bravado deflated. “Because they’d blame you. I’d never let them hurt you because of me, Rhys. I couldn’t.”
He regarded her for a long moment, and read the truth of it in her eyes. “Then why leave, at all?”
She bit her lip. “Just something I had to do.”
Ah. This was more believable. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she’d hidden behind her back. Unfortunately, he couldn’t let her complete her mission.
He exhaled, grimaced, then tossed a leather pouch to Mehmet. “Here’s your reward, walad. Now, be gone with you. Breathe a word of this to a soul and you can count on being Seth-Aziz’s next sacrifice.”
“Yes, sir! I mean, no, sir!” Wide-eyed, the kid slammed his heels into the donkey’s sides and trotted off at full speed.
“Reward?” Gillian said indignantly over the clatter of hooves. “You bribed him to rat me out?”
“Better me than your future husband.” Rhys approached her and held out his palm. “Okay. Hand it over.”
She backed away, lifting her chin. “What?”
“Whatever you’re hiding from me.”
She took another step backward. “No.”
What made this woman believe she could be so damn defiant? And why did her feistiness only make him want her more than he already did?
He ground his teeth, debating whether he should take her in his arms and kiss her to within an inch of her life, or put her over his knee and spank her. His cock stirred at the thought of doing either.
But this was not the place.
“Fine. Keep it. I’m going to shift now, and when I do, I want you to climb up. Do you hear me?”
“You’re taking me back there?” she asked in alarm. Her breasts lifted and fell in rhythm with her quickened breaths. Distracting his gaze. And other parts of his body.
He made up his mind. “Eventually. But first we’re going to my place.”
Surprise lanced through her expression. “Won’t that be dangerous?”
“Extremely.”
“Then why?”
He pressed his mouth into a thin line. How about that he’d rather go to his death than forfeit the chance to have her under him just one more time before giving her up for good?
“Stupid, bloody question.”
He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms, crushing his lips to hers. She let out a noise of surprise, then melted into him. She whispered his name and it sounded like a prayer to the gods. She opened to him and she tasted like sweet black cherries and dark, forbidden love.
And in that instant, he knew he would do anything to have her. To keep her.
Before he lost complete control, he whirled in a circle, chanting the powerful words that would turn him into al Fahl.
She clung to him, burying her face in his mane, and swung onto the back of the stallion he’d become. Putting her life into his hands in more ways than one.
He reared up, then started to gallop, devouring the miles of desolate sand to reach the secret wadi where his house lay hidden. He didn’t miss a beat when he shifted back, sweeping her into his arms and striding through the stables and the kitchen, past the startled servants, and straight to his bedroom.
They tore at each other’s clothes, stripping one another naked as their mouths refused to relinquish the wet fusion of their kisses.
“You’re mine,” he said over and over as they kissed and touched, and renewed their unspoken vows. “Mine. Mine.”
“Yes. Oh, yes,” she moaned as he threw her onto the bed and mounted her in a single forceful movement. His cock scythed in, seeking the tight, wet heat of her. He grunted, holding back the explosive need to take her hard and fast. He wanted her to remember something better than mindless coupling for what might be their last time, if later things went badly.
“Oh, Rhys,” she said breathlessly. “I was terrified you wouldn’t want me anymore.”
“How can you say that?” he said with a groan, pulling back to look into her eyes.
“I haven’t seen you for two days. I thought you’d accepted Seth’s orders and given me up.”
“Darling, I’ll always want you, and will never give up hope of having you for my own. I need you to know that absolutely, no matter what you hear about me, no matter what happens.”
She wrapped her arms tightly around him. “You’re scaring me. You make it sound so dire. So final.”
“Promise you’ll trust
me, Gillian. Just promise me that.”
“I do. I promise,” she whispered, concern etching her face. “What are you planning?”
He smiled. “Right now, to make love to my woman,” he murmured, and started to thrust.
He made it last, and he made it good. He used every trick he knew, physical and magical, to increase his own potency and her pleasure. He knew he was up against a formidable rival in Seth. Vampires possessed sexual powers unheard of in any other beings, and could gift her with more pleasure than Rhys ever hoped to. But he had one advantage that Seth didn’t.
He had her love.
And she his.
And in the end that counted far more than all the erotic pleasures in the world.
Chapter 34
“They’re going to know, aren’t they?”
Gillian’s insides fought a queasy battle between contentment and panic.
It was hard not to feel amazingly good wrapped in Rhys’s arms, her body throbbing from the best sex she’d ever had in her life, her heart bursting with the knowledge that he truly loved her. He must, to take this kind of risk to be with her. But she couldn’t shake the insidious dread sneaking through her veins that Nephtys was even now watching them in the waters of her damned scrying bowl, Seth by her side, shouting orders to Sheikh Shahin to sharpen his sword for a beheading.
Gillian didn’t know what she would do if any harm came to Rhys. She’d rather live through a loveless eternity than see him suffer because of her imprudent actions.
Not that it was wrong to try and contact her sisters to let them know she was okay. Quite the opposite. But she should have waited. It would have been far better to sneak out and deliver her letter after all this drama with Seth had settled down.
“They’ll know we made love, won’t they?” she repeated when Rhys didn’t answer. She glanced up at him.
He was on his side, head resting on his palm over his bent elbow, gazing at her with an inscrutable look on his handsome face.