His serpentine lips curled into a hungry grin. He would enjoy seeing her suffer. “The girl denies her heritage. She presents little threat at this time.”
The vizier rubbed his chin. “Good.”
Fool. He’d barely paid attention. “I said, at this time. No doubt, the warrior will entice her. The goddess Bastet herself will no doubt entreat her. We must make every preparation to—”
User banged his fist against the chair’s arm. “You do not decide what must be done.”
Biting his forked tongue, Apep bowed. “Of course not. You asked for my advice. I presented it.” Soon they would know the sweet taste of victory and then the pompous ass would no longer command him.
“As you say, the girl is no threat.”
Already cuckolded by the thrill of victory? Double the fool Apep thought he was. “We cannot say the same about the warrior and his cohorts. Another line of defense is required. We cannot—”
“No,” User bellowed. “We have no need of further defense. My army of crocodile-men guard the queen pharaoh. Throughout time, none have defeated them. Do not suggest to me they might fail.”
“I said no such thing.” Always twisting his words. “But—”
“You persist in arguing? That pathetic female is no match for me, serpent.”
Him, singular? How interesting. And completely infuriating. Apep would love to tell the others to see their reaction.
“As you say, vizier.”
Funny, User had said the same thing about Hatshepsut, all that time ago. Yet here they both were, still fighting to simply maintain their ground. The goddess Bastet, of course he’d expected. Weakling minions descended from the society cobbled together during Hatshepsut’s reign, certainly. But Apep hadn’t counted on Iker, the queen pharaoh’s greatest warrior, protecting the girl. User was a fool of the highest order not to prepare for other unforeseen events.
“I already did say.” The vizier ended the snide remark with a laugh.
The sound rippled through the serpent, rattling him to his tail. “I must return to my post.”
User waved him away. “I’ll expect news of any changes.”
A nod, and Apep glided off, his vision clouded with fury. He’d tolerated the situation these many centuries for one simple reason—Apep required the vizier on his side if they were to succeed. The blustering baboon had acted as the queen pharaoh’s prized commander to fulfill an ever-expanding greed.
Apep would not trust User to be satisfied with eternal imprisonment of Hatshepsut’s soul. The vizier surely had shifted his attention to a new prize. One that, no doubt, did not include Apep.
A smile split his reptilian face. Perfect. Apep’s plans did not include the vizier either.
****
The more successful Sanura became at avoiding the security guard at the museum, the more frequently he began showing up outside work—at the coffee shop, outside her condo, and always watching her at work. The Middle Eastern stalker had vanished, she suspected, because of him.
At lunch with Margo, she could hardly eat her strawberry spinach salad, her favorite.
Her friend frowned. “What’s up with you?”
If she didn’t tell someone, she’d burst. “Him. He’s following me.” She inclined her head toward the street.
Margo’s focus followed the direction she’d indicated. “Who?”
“The security guard from work. Everywhere I go, I see him.” Heat flushed through her at hearing herself make such a ridiculous statement.
“The hot one? Lucky you.” Margo chuckled.
“Yeah, well, it’s starting to get to me.” She stabbed a strawberry with her fork. “I dream about him.”
Margo leaned closer. “Oo, tell me and don’t leave out any detail.”
With a heavy sigh, she gave in, and described to her friend the intimate encounter with him. In a temple. Where she was a goddess.
Margo’s enthusiastic expression waned. “That’s crazy.”
“Oh.” The first time her friend had ever disappointed her, and she couldn’t deny the hurt.
Until Margo laughed and tapped her arm. “Crazy good! Wow, how sexy. Why can’t I have such vivid dreams?” She sighed dreamily.
“Almost too real. I felt every single touch like he was actually with me. So it makes me nervous that he keeps showing up everywhere.”
A shrug. “Maybe he just moved here, and happens to work nearby. Or maybe he thinks you’re hot.”
She should be so lucky. The guy was amazing. He had the build of an Olympian athlete. Or a warrior. The museum’s computerized depiction of Iker while he lived—this guy could be The Excellent One in the flesh. More excellent than she imagined.
“Hey,” Margo bent to catch her eye. “You’ve been under a lot of stress. It’s time to kick back and relax. We never did get a chance to go out before, so let’s do it now.”
“I don’t know.” What if something went wrong? Sanura hated to be around anyone these days, for fear they’d be trapped in a bad situation if her attacker returned.
Margo straightened. “Tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight, we’ll go to a club and dance the night away.”
“A night out does sound tempting.” Her gaze wandered out the window. No sign of him. And she was too young to act like such a homebody. “You’re right, I do need to go.” Away from the museum, a vacation from her thoughts.
Normally, the very idea of dancing in a club was enough to make her break out in hives.
So she pushed the thought out of her mind throughout the day, and even after going home. As she dressed in a slinky black tank top, sheer black blouse and jeans dressed up with a gold mesh belt that swished with her movements, she refused to think about any consequences except fun.
When she finally stood at the edge of the dance floor with Margo, her hips swayed to the beat.
Her friend scanned her with wide eyes. “Want a drink?”
“No, let’s dance.” Tonight, she didn’t care if she was a terrible dancer. She knew she was because the few guys who asked her to dance always seemed embarrassed on the dance floor. Less frequently, a guy might take her home. The dung always hit the fan after that. Most guys took issue with her many cats—one was fine but seven was six too many. Others found her Egyptian obsession abnormal, even though she could justify it as her occupation.
None of that bothered her now. She simply wanted to let loose and dance.
Margo blinked away her look of shock. “Okay.”
“This music’s incredible.” She couldn’t help but move to it. The beat pulsed through her, streamed along her limbs like water, and she wanted to bathe in it. She raised her arms and let the wondrous mix of sounds wash over her.
Margo’s voice penetrated. “Have you been secretly taking lessons?”
“No, why?”
“I’ve never seen you dance like that.”
“I’m just feeling the rhythm tonight.” And loving every second of it. The music vibrated through her like cat purrs.
Margo glanced around. “You’re not the only one. Every guy in here’s feeling it now, too.”
Sanura hated to look at anyone else. They probably were laughing at her. Her gaze skimmed across the men standing at the edge of the dance floor. None laughed, or even appeared amused. They seemed riveted, watching her. Something about it seemed familiar, like the temple congregation in her dream. Odd that it didn’t freak her out.
One man edged closer. Damn, the museum security guard. No other guy could look so amazing wearing a plain black tee shirt and jeans. The tee clung to his sculpted chest muscles and broad shoulders, tapering to a small waist.
She should ask Margo if they could leave. But she kept dancing.
As if she willed it, he strode toward her. Maybe it was the overhead lights flashing across his gorgeous face, or maybe the atmosphere of the club had gotten to her, but he oozed power and sensuality. When he began dancing only inches away, the combination of his sexiness and the driving beat of the music
intoxicated her. She gathered her hair atop her head and dipped low, hips undulating. He matched her moves with controlled grace. She’d never seen anything so sexy in her life.
The song ended, and he laid a hand lightly on her back. “Care for a drink?”
A quick search for Margo revealed her at the bar, talking animatedly with a guy. Sanura had no excuse to say no, but needed a clear head. “A ginger ale would be great.”
He guided her to a tall chair at the far end of the bar, and sat beside her. After ordering a beer and a soda, he studied her. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Did you follow me here?” Part of her desperately hoped he had, and she should be angry, or afraid. She wasn’t.
He leaned closer, and his knee grazed hers. “We must speak. In private.”
Thank goodness she’d only ordered soda. One touch of his knee sent her senses reeling. The scent of sandalwood made her yearn to taste his skin.
“Say whatever you need to right now.” If she left with him, they wouldn’t do much talking. The urge to wrap herself around him overwhelmed her.
His steely blue eyes cut into her. “You know who I am.”
She gulped. “The security guard from work.”
Without so much as a blink, he continued. “No, goddess. I am Iker. Your warrior to command.”
A groan escaped. He had to ruin her one night out with the goddess bit. “Margo put you up to this, didn’t she?” Had to be; her friend listened to Sanura’s nonstop obsession with Egyptians, and especially the warrior. Apparently it was payback time. But she didn’t mind so much. This guy was off the charts hot. Must be a contagious sort of heat, too, because her insides had ignited, flames licking sensations to new life.
His brow furrowed. “I do not know this woman. I am here to protect you.”
“Right. From other guys?” Typical male. To hide her smirk, she sipped her drink.
“From those who would seek to destroy you.”
Her throat constricted, choking her on the cold liquid. What kind of pickup line was that? Not funny at all. “Why would anyone want to do such a thing?”
Patting her back, he explained. “You awaken the power that’s lain dormant for thousands of years. Others will try to stop you by any means possible.”
Obviously, a mistake. “I have no power.” Especially will power. Now that his pats had changed to light rubs, she had to will herself not to command more from him.
His hand steadied along her back. “You are the descendant of Bastet, the Sacred and All-Seeing Eye.”
“Stop saying that.” Sure, it would explain a lot. Her strange animal magnetism to cats, and vice versa. Certainly her obsession with all things Egyptian. Her sudden litheness, agility, and grace that comprised her stunning new compulsion to dance like sex in stilettos, which also happened to entice every guy in the room.
“You must understand the risks.”
“At the moment, losing my mind poses the greatest risk.” Forcing herself not to look at him and fall into those mesmerizing blue eyes, she slid off the stool. “I have to go.”
She hurried to Margo. “I’m not feeling well.”
Her friend sent a mournful glance to the guy she sat near. “Do you want me to take you home?”
“You stay, I’ll grab a cab.” Focused on the exit, she made a beeline for it.
Margo called over the music, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Hopefully her sanity would return by then. With one last wave, she escaped the room.
Chapter Seven
The balmy night air did nothing to restore Sanura’s thoughts to normal. No vehicles drove past, and the street was deserted of people, too.
She pulled out her cell and debated whether to call a taxi. By the time it reached her, she could have walked halfway home. The time display on her phone read 9:11. A warning from the universe to dial the emergency number? Any other day, she might have laughed.
Ah, might as well walk. It might do me some good. Except for these shoes. She’d worn them on impulse because they complemented the gold mesh belt she wore. Gold and strappy, they weren’t the most comfortable pair she owned. Four blocks later, she considered removing them, and stopped to adjust a strap.
A black cat rubbed against her, and she began to bend down. “Aw, hello baby.”
A hiss, and the feline arched its back, sending Sandy’s instincts on alert. “What’s wrong?”
When the cat growled and clawed at the air, she glanced behind her. Her new night vision confirmed the animal’s warning.
A man rushed up behind her, his face twisted into a grimace, his hawkish features all too familiar. The foreigner. A firm grasp on her shoulders lifted her from her crouch.
With a screech, she twisted to shake from his clutches, but he held tight. Bracing her arm, she jabbed her elbow into his stomach. Taut muscles for an older man. He grappled with her. He reached around and pinned her arms across her front. Locked in his hold, she couldn’t elbow him, could barely move. Her legs were still free, so she kicked as he dragged her into an alley.
The words of the security guard echoed in her head: Those who seek to destroy you. Why would anyone want to harm her? This man left no doubt he’d carry out the threat.
At the approach of thudding footsteps, the man huffed. He threw her hard onto the pavement. Another man ran up, his growl increasing to a roar as he pummeled the Egyptian.
The two exchanged blows, and something clattered to the ground near her. She reached for it, and cold metal met her touch. A knife. No ordinary knife, either. The hilt, shaped like a crocodile, glittered with encrusted gems. From its mouth, the blade curved like a crescent moon, except in waves. She’d seen such a shape before, but where? Her scalp tingled. The leg of a scarab beetle. Someone had taken exceptional care to craft this knife to symbolize a crocodile consuming the beetle. As intricately beautiful as it appeared, she had to resist the urge to drop the knife. It was crafted to be a warning as well as a weapon.
A man landed in a lifeless heap nearby, face turned away. She froze. Who had won? Her grip tightened around the knife’s handle, and she gulped. Please don’t get up and make me use this. Or worse, find out she didn’t have the heart to draw blood.
Winded from the fight, the victor’s chest puffed. He extended a hand. “Are you all right, goddess?”
Iker. Clasping his hand, she leapt up, surprised she hadn’t needed assistance. A new kind of strength flowed through her. Not merely physical, but combined with a mental surety that encouraged her rather than held her back.
“Yes, are you?”
He drew her away. “I must get you to safety.”
She pointed down the street. “My apartment’s a few blocks from here.”
His full lips thinned to a grim line. “You are no longer safe there.”
Did he expect her to abandon her life? Her cats? No way. “I’m going home.”
His deep sigh accused her of stubbornness, though he didn’t say it. “We’ll travel through the darkness of shadows, then. Hurry.”
If not for his seriousness, she might have felt ridiculous. They stole through street after street like stars of a bad spy movie. Either the world had gone mad, or she had. Or possibly Margo had arranged for an elaborate prank and this would appear on some reality TV show next week.
By the time they reached her building, she actually hoped that was the case. As she fumbled the key into her condo lock, she knew in her heart neither was true.
After bolting the door, she faced him with the sinking feeling none of this was temporary. Her life may have turned crazy, but it soon might tilt the scale to full-blown insanity. “Listen, whatever your name is…”
“Iker.” He broke his formal posture only to bow his head.
She held in a breath, but thought she might explode. “Iker.” For now, she’d go with it. “I don’t know why these things are happening.”
“Now that we are alone, I will explain more fully.” He gestured to the sofa. “May I sit?”
“Be my guest.” Her stomach fluttered. Her most gorgeous guest ever. And ripped, like he worked out every day. His presence had hit her like a boulder in the museum, but in her apartment, with just the two of them, she physically steadied herself. Braced against his magnetic force spinning her inner sea into a whirlwind.
Heat rippled through her at the way his muscles flexed with every movement. Much as she tried to steer her gaze away, it kept returning to him, and followed the lines of the black tee shirt clinging to his chest, more sculpted than Michelangelo’s statue of David. Concentrate. “First, I need a drink. Would you like one?”
Almost gingerly, he sat and looked up at her. “Yes, please.”
Geez, how could a guy ooze power and grace just by sitting? “Wine? Beer? Water?”
The image of seriousness, he bowed his head. “Whichever is your pleasure, goddess.”
Oh no, the goddess thing again. “Wine for two it is.” She’d need the alcohol.
Filling two glasses with red wine, she kept her back to him and mentally reviewed everything he’d told her. Glasses in hand, she returned to the living room, handed him one and curled up on the opposite end of the sofa. “Let’s go over this again. According to you, I’m the descendant of Bastet.”
“Yes, goddess.”
Ignore the sexy deep voice. And the crystal blue eyes. And how his bronze skin gives such fire to those eyes… ahem. “And I’m supposed to perform some ritual to send the Queen Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s soul to the afterlife.”
“Yes, goddess.” He sounded pleased, and almost cracked a smile. Finally.
Which totally dismayed her. “I still don’t understand.”
He angled toward her. “The queen pharaoh’s son plotted against her, and swore the vizier User into eternal service to ensure that her soul never receive reward. For centuries, we have awaited the opportunity to right this wrong.”
Goddess, Spellbound Page 8