“We encourage them to seek a place that better suits their preferences.”
“You eject them from the city.”
“Only if we have no other choice, and even then we provide them with all the resources they require. As we discussed, there are human colonies to take them in.”
“And packs of rogues to deal with along the way.”
“Would you have a society without rules?” she asked. “Would you permit citizens to flout the law at will? Unimpeded aggression among the people of Tanis?”
“Opiri thrive on aggression,” he said. “How often do they flout your laws? Do they steal blood from unwilling humans?”
“I have never heard of such a thing occurring here.”
“If they did, would they face similar punishment?”
“There is no favoritism, Daniel.”
He stared down at the glass table and moved a small vase a few inches to one side, his hand clutching the fragile vessel as if it were a weapon. “But humans, of course, need more looking after,” he said. “You said it yourself. It is your place to guide.” He looked up. “Is that what Bes was doing?”
“He knew those people, and—”
“He persuaded them to back down. He used the same influence you do, even when you don’t realize it.”
“We have had this discussion before. What I—”
“In this future you envision, can there really be any free will for humanity?”
“We Elders have lived for thousands of years,” she said. “Is it so wrong to give others the benefit of our experience?”
“But does your experience apply to humans?” He counted off on his fingers. “Isis. Ishtar. Bes. Hera. They all have one thing in common, aside from being Elders. It isn’t just coincidence that you’re all named after ancient gods, is it?”
Isis knew the time for prevarication was long past. “You have guessed,” she said, lifting her chin. “We once acted as gods and goddesses among your kind, very long ago.”
“You ruled humanity, even before the Long Sleep, when most of your kind went into hibernation.”
“Humans made us what we became.”
“But you went along with their delusions. And, eventually, you left the people who worshipped you. You became myth. And then, after the War between your kind and mine, you rose again to rule as you did before.”
“That was never our intention.”
“Maybe it has nothing to do with your intentions.” He smiled crookedly. “Isis. If I remember correctly, she was the protector of mothers and children, the Lady of Magic, friend of slaves. Your ability to influence others would have seemed like magic in ancient times. And you’ve already proven yourself a friend of slaves, haven’t you?”
* * *
Isis was beautiful in her injured pride, her head high, her eyes flashing. As he watched her, Daniel could almost forget what he had seen at the depository and in Hera’s ward. He could almost accept that everything Isis said was true...all her hopes, her dreams, her faith in Tanis’s ultimate success.
“I helped to guide Egypt for over two thousand years,” she said, a slight note of defensiveness in her voice. “I did not rule. That was the work of mortal kings. I was there for humans who sought my help, and I gave them advice and encouragement when I could.” She met Daniel’s gaze. “Is that such a terrible thing?”
“And were all your fellow gods so benevolent?”
“Some had almost nothing to do with humanity, but merely took on the aspects of deities created by humans. Bes was a god of mothers and childbirth, as I was, and also a protector of the household. He is a good Opir.”
“At least his intentions are,” Daniel said. “What about Hera? Was she so benevolent?”
“She has changed from the time I knew her long ago,” Isis said with obvious regret.
“And Ishtar?” he asked. “She was a goddess of fertility and sex. She still uses her powers for seduction to get her way, no matter what you and the other Nine intended.”
“You did not respond.”
“Maybe that’s because I was thinking of another goddess.”
The words came out of his mouth without any thought behind them, but he realized at once that they were true. He had been thinking of Isis every moment that Ishtar had been doing her best to seduce him. Isis, with her dark eyes and lovely body and her odd trust in him. Trust he’d done little enough to earn.
“If you...think well of me,” she said, “you cannot believe that I have ever used my influence to harm any human.”
Daniel stepped around the table, coming very close to her. “You’ve been honest with me, more than you had to be. I saw you with that baby and his mother. You weren’t faking your affection.” Very cautiously he touched her cheek with his fingertips, doing his best to ignore the rush of desire that came with the contact. “You weren’t faking in my room, either, were you?”
She trembled. “Perhaps, as you suggested, I wished to learn something about you that I couldn’t get any other way.”
“You must have had a thousand lovers when you were a goddess. Ordinary men would have fallen at your feet without your lifting a finger.”
Her hand covered his. “I do not think there is anything ordinary about you, Daniel.”
He wondered if she had guessed what he really was.
“There’s nothing unusual about me,” he said gruffly, withdrawing his hand.
“Maybe you cannot see it. But I know your past was a difficult one and that you survived it. Not all humans can say the same.”
For a moment he thought she was going to ask him about his life as a serf. A chill enveloped his body.
Then his sense returned to him and he smiled. Isis stood very still for a long moment, barely breathing, her skin flushed. He was half-tempted to take her in his arms and finish what they’d begun yesterday.
But physical attraction wasn’t enough. Neither was mutual admiration, though he wasn’t sure how he’d earned hers. She was still a Bloodmistress—a goddess—and he still had his work to do.
“Who are they, Isis?” he asked. “The rest of the Nine?”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “You will probably recognize their names,” she said, her voice a little unsteady. “Athena, Anu, Ereshkigal, Hephaestus, and Hermes.”
“Greek and Babylonian,” he said. “Anu, I don’t know.”
“Ancient Sumer,” Isis said. “He is the eldest and wisest among us, and he leads the Nine.” She seemed about to go on and changed her mind. “Anu, Hephaestus and Ereshkigal are the guardians of our Opiri.”
“Ereshkigal,” Daniel said. “Goddess of the Underworld. Appropriate enough.”
“Do you think Opiri belong in such a place?”
The words were spoken half in jest, but Daniel took them seriously. “Certainly not the Opir I’m looking at right now,” he said.
He took his seat and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
“Were there any others?” he asked. “Some of the old gods who came with you to Tanis?”
She frowned, a delicate crease forming between her brows. “There were a few others. When we came to Tartaros, one left us to make his way alone. There were a few who wished to rule by the old customs. We did not welcome them among us. And there was one other who came to us for a very brief time, not long ago. His name was Ares.”
“The Greek god of war,” Daniel said softly.
“Yes. I never met him in the past, and saw him only twice while he was here. He said he had come to find out if Tanis was what he had heard it to be, as you did. But he left soon after he arrived.” She searched Daniel’s eyes. “Why do you ask?”
He left soon after, Daniel thought. But where would he have gone?
“I saw Ares once, in Vikos,” he said. “He was one of
the few Opiri who treated serfs decently. I didn’t realize then that he might actually have been a ‘god.’”
“Strange. Ares spoke of coming from the region of Erebus, far to the west.”
Immediately Daniel was on his guard. “We heard he was traveling, but the rulers of Vikos would not have let him stay to challenge them. Rumors among the serfs suggested that he was seeking a place like this after leaving his Citadel.”
“We know that the rulers of Vikos are aggressive and greedy for power. Ares might have been lucky to escape with his life.”
But of course Ares had almost certainly never been there at all. It was all part of Daniel’s invented backstory.
“He seemed wise and controlled when he came here,” Isis said, as if she hadn’t noticed Daniel’s silence. “If he once served as a god to humans, he had clearly left that life far behind.” She paused. “He had a mate with him when he came to us, a dhampir woman whom he treated with great respect. I believe her name was Trinity.”
Daniel kept his breathing to a normal pace. “Why did they leave?”
“I did not actually see them depart, but my last words with them were of making a new life.”
“They didn’t say anything about their destination?”
It was clear from her expression that she wondered about Daniel’s interest. “I was under the impression that they intended to return to their home.”
Daniel knew that it would be wise to drop the subject for now. “I hope he found what he was looking for,” he said.
“A pity he could not have found it here,” Isis said. She gazed at Daniel for a long moment. “Perhaps you will answer a question for me. Why did you react so strongly when you saw that Opir emerging from the depository?” She searched his face. “You dodged the question before. But surely the answer is not so terrible?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Daniel said, looking away.
“It does to me.” She rose, and her bare feet whispered across the floor. “I saw the hatred on your face. Who is he?”
Daniel took a deep breath. “His name is Hannibal. He was a vicious Bloodlord, a close ally of my first owner.”
“Anu’s advisor,” Isis said. “I have met him. Your description of him does not seem—”
“Everyone in Vikos knew his reputation. He was an evil man, Isis. He could never stay in a place like this without his own Household and serfs. He would never give up that life.”
“And yet he has.”
“He lives among the other Opiri in the towers?”
“Yes.”
“And he has never caused any trouble here?”
“Not that I have heard.”
“Opiri like Hannibal don’t change,” he said. “If you’re worried about spies, Isis, I’d watch him more closely.”
Her hand touched his shoulder. “An agent from Vikos?” she asked.
Daniel hesitated. He had chosen to say that he came from Vikos to keep the Tanisian’s attention away from the western colonies near Erebus, in the event that the Opiri of Tanis proved hostile. Hannibal’s presence could prove a danger to him, for the former Bloodlord would know who and what he really was. Daniel had no idea where Hannibal had been over the past several years, but Ares had fought Hannibal and exiled him from Erebus after the overthrow of the Citadel’s original government. Hannibal would surely be very happy to take revenge on his enemy, by any means possible.
“You can’t believe anything he says,” Daniel said.
“Even though he has acted only in good faith and followed our laws?” she asked. “A powerful Bloodmaster like Ares wanted something beyond serfs and divinity. Surely this one, too, can learn.”
He took her by her shoulders. “Is it that you only see the good in people, Isis? Is that your blindness?”
She pulled free. “And is yours constant suspicion, a refusal to see what is good or even to hope?”
Grabbing her slender waist, Daniel looked into her eyes. “I’ve been wrong before.”
He kissed her. She stiffened for a fraction of a second and then relaxed in his arms, returning his kiss fully and eagerly. She, a goddess once adored by millions, wanted a man like him as much as he wanted her. He had been a serf, helped found a colony, fought Freebloods, governed a compound where Opiri and humans lived in relative harmony.
But in the end there was nothing more than this.
He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the small bedroom off the living area. The bed’s wooden footboard and headboard were decorated with ancient Egyptian motifs and carvings of human figures going about their daily tasks, from harvesting grains to fishing in the river. A woman held a child to her breast, and birds dipped and dived among the rushes.
Isis followed his gaze. “There are some things I do not wish to forget,” she said.
Daniel laid her on the bed, staring at the carvings. Isis pulled his head down and kissed him. At once he was inundated by dreams of another time and place, the cool of night on bare skin and the smell of a river as the flower-scented boat glided along, the oars pulled by bronze-skinned men in simple white kilts, singing as he held Isis in his arms.
Unembarrassed by their presence, he unfastened her gown and untied the sash. She wore nothing underneath. Her wide necklace glowed against the golden skin above her breasts, and her bracelets chimed softly as she stretched her arms over her head.
There were no words between them, nothing to break the spell.
She wrapped her thighs around his hips and sighed as he eased inside her. Her breasts rose and fell with each short, sharp breath. She was smooth and warm and wet, drawing him in, and he began to breathe harshly as the pace quickened and she arched up to meet his thrusts. He kissed her breasts, one and then the other, and licked the warm skin of her shoulder. She pulled him closer with agile fingers and pressed her lips to his neck.
When her teeth penetrated his skin, he could hardly hold himself back. A different kind of ecstasy gripped him as the blood flowed, though some distant part of him knew that he should struggle, push her away, prevent her from taking what so many of her kind had stolen by force.
But the blood continued to flow, and he finished inside her with a low grunt of satisfaction. She came a moment later, her teeth still embedded in his neck, her arms holding him tightly against her.
He opened his eyes, and the fragrant deck was gone, the black arc of starry sky and the cool river vanished. He and Isis were naked, and Isis’s lips were at his throat.
CHAPTER 7
Pulling free, Daniel rolled off the bed, retreated to the door and stared at her. He had lost himself completely, and he still saw Isis as she had looked in the dream: glorious skin dappled by moonlight, nipples rouged; hair spread across the cushions; kohl painting her beautiful eyes.
“Daniel?” she said with obvious concern, rising on her elbow.
He touched the side of his neck. There was no blood.
“What did you do?” he asked hoarsely.
“I do not understand.”
“You used your influence. You made me see—”
“I did nothing!” she said, snatching up her robes and wrapping them around herself.
“I saw another place, with a river. An ancient time.”
Her eyes widened. “I had nothing to do with what you saw.”
Had it all been his imagination, then? Daniel wondered. An inner vision of another age, meant to distance him from this one, to hold reality and the painful memories at bay?
But at least some parts of it had been real.
“You were about to take my blood,” he said.
She sat straight up. “Do you think I would...unless you asked me, I would never...”
Daniel grabbed his clothes and pulled them on with short, sharp jerks. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’
t know what I was doing.”
She tied her sash as she rose, her body supple and soft and alluring. “You were always in control of your mind and your body,” she said, hurt and anger in her voice. “Are you saying that the only way you would want me is if I influenced you?”
Her words froze him in place. The thought that she would need to force him to make love to her was beyond absurd.
But he had felt her teeth on his neck. She could have licked away the blood and healed him before he emerged from his dream. They had been together long enough that she wouldn’t be able to ignore his blood—the smell of it, the sound of his pulse, the ease with which she might claim it.
“I did not take your blood!” she said, eyes flashing. “I know your past. I would never force you to relive it.” Her lips thinned. “But it is more than that which troubles you, is it not? Perhaps if I were human, it would be different. How long has it been for you, Daniel?”
There was no mockery in her words, but Daniel flinched anyway. He should lie and tell her that this was simply a casual thing with him, as it seemed to be with her; that he took lovers as easily as he breathed.
“I think it has been a long time,” she said. She sat on the couch, her robes settling about her. “Even before the Nine came to Tanis, it had been many years for me.” She gathered up one of the hand-woven throws and bunched it into a ball. “Until you came, I was not even tempted. I am not like Ishtar, Daniel. It has never been so simple for me, even in my days as a goddess.”
“How could it be anything but simple for someone with virtually unlimited power?”
“And again the cynicism,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice. “You have hardened your heart.”
“I am what I am.”
“What your time as a serf made you,” she said. “Again and again you test yourself, to prove...what? That nothing can make you surrender even a little of yourself to another?” She rose and drew very close; he could smell the clean fragrance of her air and the undertone of sexual desire. “What did they do to you in Vikos, Daniel? Why do you feel such shame?”
“I am not asha—”
Harlequin Nocturne May 2016 Box Set Page 7