He brought his mouth to hers, felt her shudder, then surrender to the heat flashing between them. Perhaps she cast a spell on him but she was his and he would carry her to Nineveh and sequester her in his woman’s house. He deepened the kiss and pressed her against his swollen member. Only the cheers and urgings of his men to take her halted his assault. Not for him a public display of his mastery of her or any other woman.
Trutanu-ilu, his second, strode toward Ashur and the priestess. The woman who had led them here clung to Ashur’s friend’s arm. Ashur felt the heat of her gaze on the place where his erectness thrust against his tunic. She ran her tongue over her lips. Her dark eyes glittered.
Mardu jerked away from Turtanu. “Despoil her. Kill her. That’s my price for opening the gate and leading you here/
Ashur shook his head. “To allow a traitor to live is reward enough. Turtanu, control your slave.”
Turtanu laughed. “Let us share this false priestess. She is responsible to a man’s touch. All who serve Ishtar are.”
The priestess stepped from behind Ashur. “I an Istari-ishtaru. Those who serve Mandrake in Babylon are not prostitutes who sleep with any men the way your Assyrian temple women do. Until I choose my Tammuz, I lay with no man.”
Mardu spat. “You haven’t the proper lineage to claim the guise of the goddess who walks among us. I should have been named the successor. No noble of Babylon will accept a skinny foundling. How can you expect to find a consort?”
Ashur chuckled. “There is one noble of Assyria who places beauty over birth. I will be her consort.”
“Though I am not a noble, only a soldier risen through the ranks, I also would be your consort,” Turtanu said.
Mardu whirled and spat. “Neither of you will have her.” Her voice rose to a piercing scream. She drew a knife and rushed toward Istari.
A priest with gray-streaked hair dashed across the room and acted before Ashur could move. The blade meant for Istari plunged into the old man’s chest. His body thudded on the stone floor. Istari dropped to her knees. A wail rose from her lips and she fell across the body.
Ashur grabbed Mardu and shoved her into Turtanu’s arms. “Bind and gag her. She is twice a traitor and for this act, she will be punished.” He turned to the assembled men. “Remove the statue of their god. Marduke will come to Assyria and bow before our king and our gods.
* * *
When Bel-mar collapsed, Istari no longer heard the enemies’ voices. Her entire being focused on her foster father, the man who had been her rescuer and her teacher. “Bel-mar-tammuz, why did you act? Now I have no parents and no homeland.”
“Ishtari-ishtaru.” He stretched his hand as though grasping another’s fingers. “Beloved.” He smiled.
Lamaru stroked Istari’s arm. “He’s at peace. He’s a hero. He saved your life.”
“Do you think that is what I wanted?” Istari stared at the younger girls. Her earlier numbness vanished. Holding her grief inside brought nausea. She wanted to scream and attack Mardu but the other priestess was gone. She bent her head. Tears gushed and she keened. “We must carry him to his room so he can lie beside Ishtar-ishtaru in death as he did in life.”
Lamaru crouched at Bel-mar's feet. They tried to lift him but he was too heavy. Istari’s body shook with frustration.
The Assyrian leader came to her. “What re you doing? Why have you marked yourself with his blood? Was this old man your lover?”
“Bel-mar was my foster father. I want him to lie beside my foster mother. She died as the sun rose. At least she escaped the tragedy that has befallen her Tammuz and her beloved land.”
He motioned to several of the soldiers. “Do as she bids you and leave the room of the dead untouched. Do not harm either of these priestesses.” He pulled Istari to her feet. “Wash the blood from your body and remain in your room until I come.”
“Am I not allowed to mourn my dead?”
He clasped her hands. “In your heart and in your thoughts you may mourn. Istari, you are mine and will have a better fate than most of the women in Babylon.”
“What of Lamaru?”
She will remain untouched. She goes to my king.”
“Can’t she remain here and serve Marduke?”
He laughed. “Your god travels to Nineveh. He returns to his home. You stole your gods and goddesses from Assyria. Go and do as you are bid.”
Istari followed Lamaru and the soldiers who carried Bel-mar to the small sleeping chamber. They washed his body and changed his robe Istari let her tears flow. “Now they are together.”
“What will we do?” Lamaru asked. “I heard the men laugh when their leader kissed you. The soldiers have brought women from the streets into the temple. They violate them before the altar.”
“Such are the ways of war. We are prisoners.”
Lamaru nodded. “I’m afraid.”
“So am I.” Istari stroked the faces of her foster parents. “May your spirits soar in death as they did in life.” She rose and held out her hand to the younger priestess. “Come. I must bathe and wait. Stay with me for a time.”
* * *
Ashur watched Istari leave. Her body moved with fluid grace. The kiss of conquest had been but a taste to whet his appetite. Was she the embodiment of the goddess? Her face and form were perfection.
The sounds of revelry reached him. The screams of the captive women rose above the deeper voices of the men. Before he sought Istari he needed to gain control of the men. Though looting and taking unwilling women were part of a victory, he feared the lack of discipline would cause the men to turn on each other. Babylon belonged to Assyria and the men would be better occupied seeking slaves and plunder to take to the king.
“Turtanu.” He bellowed his second’s name. Ashur strode into the main room of the temple and saw his friend buried to the hilt in the body of the woman who had betrayed her land and people. “Turtanu, attend me.”
The second shouted his release and turned his head from the woman. “Do you want a turn?”
Ashur glared. He’d been repelled by Mardu when she’d crepe into their camp during the night and offered to show them an entrance into the city. “She was to be bound and gagged.”
“I had need of her.”
“Obey my orders now. The men are out of control. I wish to seize the loot and slaves and be hone before long. We must end these games.”
Turtanu smiled. “They but celebrate our victory. About Mardu. Don’t you recall what we owe her? Because of her the city shattered beneath us like an over-ripe melon.”
“I haven’t forgotten what she did.” Ashur grasped his friend’s arm. “Come. Form ranks.” His booming voice cut through the shouts and screams.
Before long the men stood in orderly rows. “Place the women under guard in one of the rooms.” He indicated several men to act as guards. He turned to Turtanu. “Set the patrols to gather spoils. Select slaves from the artisans and children. Once this is done, we can return home in triumph.”
Mardu moved toward him. “Come, commander, let me soothe your ill-temper.” She stroked her breasts.
Ashur turned away. “Put her with the other women.”
She laughed softly. “I know much about pleasuring men.”
Disgust filled Ashur. “Turtanu, do as I order. Friendship is no reason for your continued disobedience.”
Mardu grabbed Ashur’s arm. “You go to Istari. She stole the temple seal and declared she embodies the goddess. She lies. Why should she have the man who rules our lives? I want you. Come with me.”
“You have no right to make demands.”
She stamped her food. “Turtanu, tell him what I have promised. Tell him I know where the treasure of Babylon can be found. I’ll give it all to him if he does as I wish.”
Turtanu laughed. “Ashur is above bribery.” He turned his head. “Will you give the king the beautiful Istari to insure your place at his right hand? Isn’t it enough he has promised you one of his sisters as your wife?”
Mardu laughed. “Would the king accept one who has been with many men? Istari even lay with her foster father. Every day, she tells Bel-mar of her live. You are a fool.”
Ashur walked away. In time, he would learn the truth.
* * *
Istari scrubbed the blood from her skin. She couldn’t halt the tears spilling from her eyes. All was gone. All she had loved. Her foster parents, the temple and her city now lay beneath the sandals of the Assyrians. She fingered the beads of the necklace and traced the markings of the seal. Even the power of the gift had vanished. How could the god have failed to protect her people? She shook her head. Not the god but the leaders who had blocked their ears and covered their eyes to the warnings of the astrologers and the priests. Marduke couldn’t take arms and fight.
She rinsed the soap from her skin and washed her hair. A picture of the Assyrian leader flashed in her thoughts. Ashur-dagan-shu. Tall, muscular, the very embodiment of a god. Would that he were a man of Babylon. She would gladly have taken him as her consort. She rose from the pool and dressed.
Lamaru joined her. “What will we do?”
“I’ll go to my room and wait.” Istari grasped the girl’s hand. “You should run and hide.”
Lamaru shook her head. “Where would I go? I have no kin and no place but the temple.”
Istari led her friend to her small room where they would await the coming of the enemy. Like the younger priestess she had no where to go.
“Cast my chart so I may learn my fate,” Lamaru said.
Istari nodded. Doing the calculations would keep her from thinking about what had passed and what was to come. She wiped away the tears trickling down her cheeks. After smoothing clay on a tablet, she used a stylus to mark the surface. She smiled. “You will survive, even prosper. There will be grief but you will find a great love.”
Lamaru laughed. “And for you?”
Again Istari cleaned the slate and marked her planets. “My fate is hazy. Mars lies atop Venus and the Moon passes over my Sun. The warrior will give me a child.” She closed her eyes. And more grief will come.
“What of him?”
“I don’t know the day of his birth so I can’t chart his star path.” She failed to mention that in her chart Saturn opposed Mars, Venus, Jupiter and her Sun.
The guards brought bread and cheese. Istari felt restless but she dare not leave the room. Shadows crept across the chamber. The moon rose. When would he come? What would he do?
The steps of sandaled feet sounded on the stone floor. Istari stared at the door and saw Ashur in the doorway. The intensity of his gaze both thrilled and frightened her. His dark eyes seemed to strip her clothes away. He gestured to Lamaru. “Go with the guards. They will see you come to no harm.”
Once the girl left, he sat on a stool and removed his high-laced sandals. Then he stood and removed his clothes.
Istari watched the play of muscles as his body was revealed. Her mouth felt dry. When she saw his jutting male organ, her eyes widened.
“Look not at my spear but gaze into my eyes,” he commanded. With the gliding movements of a forest cat stalking prey, he moved toward her. The gleam of sweat on his skin made her want to stroke his flesh. The scent of him grew stronger until she could smell nothing except his desire. Her heart quickened.
A smile curved his lips. “Am I more than any man you have known?”
She frowned. “I’ve never had a man come to me unclothed.”
He laughed. “Don’t think you can fool me. Soon, I’ll know the truth. Mardu said you lay with many men, even your foster father.”
“She lies. Since I passed from childhood I never crept into my foster parents’ bed. Even when the gods beat their war drums and slash the sky with their light swords I turned to no man for comfort. When the storms arrive I cowered in my room.”
He pulled her to her feet and crushed her body against his. His mouth touched hers. When she gasped, he thrust his tongue inside. His hands roved over her body the way they had in the temple. She felt wetness arise in her woman’s parts and remembered her foster mother’s instructions on the ways a woman’s body prepared for the invasion of the male organ.
Her arms slid around his neck. She tried to move closer, but her clothes kept her from feeling his skin against hers. He released her lips and slid his mouth to her neck. He sucked her skin, then raised his head. “You’re mine for I have marked you.” He grasped the neck of her dress and ripped. His hands covered her breasts. The nipples peaked and pressed against his palms. He ran his lips over one and then the other. Taking the nipple between his teeth, he sucked.
Istari felt hot enough to burn. “Tammuz,” she cried. “As I was before, I am yours now.”
He tore the rest of her clothes away and carried her to the low bed. “Do not name the god who is sacrificed.” He nudged her legs apart and lay atop her.
“Not so. Tammuz is the one I choose as consort.”
He captured her hands in one of his and held her arms above her head. With a single thrust, his spear penetrated her women’s core. She screamed. He put his mouth on hers and stopped her cries. She bucked against the pain that stole her breath.
He raised his head. “Mardu lied.” He released her hands and began to slide away.
She grasped his shoulders. “Ashur-dagan-shu-tammuz, until I receive your seed the rite isn’t complete.” She pulled his head down and brushed her tongue along his lips.
“Istari, I fear to hurt you more.”
She stroked his face. “What was done cannot be undone. The stars foretold you will give me a child,” More than anything she wanted a child and to once again have a family.
He raised himself and drew her into his arms. “Then I will give you my seed.” He caressed her back and gently kissed her, gently at first and then with increasing urgency. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and nipped her lips. “Though I can’t take you as my wife, you will have an honored place in my harem.”
Not as a wife. For a moment she stiffened. Could she live with other women who shared his attention? For a child she had to try.
He ran his hands over her skin. He cupped her breasts and lowered his head to lave them. She felt a pulsing in her woman’s channel. His organ hardened. She rubbed against the firm shaft. She raised one leg and slid it over his hips. He pulsed against her. One of his hands pressed against her back and he moved his hips, drawing his penis over her sensitive skin.
“Ashur,” she cried. “Come to me.”
With a quick movement, he rolled and pulled her beneath him. She stroked his hair. He rose so his weight was supported by his arms. Their gazes locked. As she put both legs over his back, he slid into her.
He growled. “So wet, so tight, so hot.”
Without knowing why she squeezed her inner muscles. He groaned and the sound vibrated through her. She pressed her heels against his buttocks to draw him closer. As he moved, waves of heat spiraled. She arched her back.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
“Yes, oh yes.”
Istari wanted to soar, to reach beyond the exquisite sensations. She thrust against him until they moved in concert. She pressed her hands against his chest. At the moment of explosion, she pinched his nipples.
He roared her name again and again. “You’re mine. Mine.” His seed spurted, they gushed. His mouth met hers in a possessive kiss.
“And you are mine,” she whispered.
He rolled from her and pulled her against his chest. “I will never let you go.”
She closed her eyes and savored memories of the way he’d made her feel. “Tammuz. My consort.”
Soon, the sounds from him told her he slept. She leaned on one elbow and gazed at him. Though she no longer served Marduke, Ashur was her consort for now and all her days. Was there a way to change her fate?
* * *
Ashur stared at the sleeping woman, He longed to kiss her awake and bring them to fulfillment. A thousand nights wouldn’t be enough to sat
e him. She was so responsive and so heated. Istari was to have his son and he knew but one way for that to occur. He had to gift her with his seed until one was firmly planted in her nest. He grinned. The act he had to perform held no hardship, only pleasure.
His gaze moved from her belly to her breasts. For an instant, he glimpsed a dark-haired infant nursing. His spear stiffened. In the days to come, he would have her read his stars. Would his reward be the one he sought? The king’s sister, a place on the council as advisor to the king’s young son and wealth. He’d already befriended the boy. Once the king died, Ashur believed the friendship would make him the true ruler of Assyria, at least until the boy came of age.
What of Istari? Would she continue to accept a lesser place in his life? She’d been trained to rule the temple. Could she be content to live in a harem? Why did her wishes matter? She was his captive now and forever.
He slid from the bed. She opened her eyes and reached for him. Desire built. A mere glance acted like a spark on oiled kindling. She rose. “Come to the baths and let me clean the blood of sacrifice from your organ.”
“More of the ritual?”
She smiled. “Don’t you like to be clean? The water will soothe my aches and give us a chance to explore each other.”
“Ah,” he crooned and followed her to a room where the open roof allowed the rays of the sun to warm the water in the large pool. Though at this time, the water felt cool. He stepped into the pool and sat with his legs stretched before him. Istari coated her hands with soap and laved his chest and abdomen. Her touch roused him. When she touched his spear, desire grew. Her soaped hands slid back and forth on his organ.
Ashur groaned. “I would give you mu seed.”
She knelt between his spread legs. “I would welcome the gift.”
He lifted her onto his legs and slid her onto his engorged penis. He raised his knees and brought her breasts to his mouth. He suckled one and then the other. As he stroked her lower lips he watched her expression change. With a finger he found the center of her desire. She arched back and cried her pleasure. He held back his seed for he wasn’t ready to relinquish the delight he found deep inside her.
Past Betrayals, Past Loves Page 6