by Jean Murray
A chill tickled the back of her neck. She whipped around and grabbed the figure stalking her. Her hand wrapped around the thick neck of her wayward warrior.
“It is best not to sneak up on me unless you want your throat slit,” she growled. She relaxed her fingers but did not remove her grasp. She shoved him into the closest doorway.
A jumble of emotions filtered through her. Anger, frustration—warmth. “What in duat are you doing?” She glared up at him.
“I am out for a walk. What are you doing?” His deep rich voice washed over her.
Out for a walk? It was the worst lie she had ever heard, but then again maybe that was his point. She shoved him up against the door one last time and released him. “What I am doing is none of your concern.”
His gaze swept over her face and then settled on her lips. “We share the neighborhood, so yeah, it is my business.”
“I was here first.” She tipped her chin up in mocking stubbornness.
His mouth twitched into a half-smile. “How do you know I was not here first?”
“Fine. You tell me why you are here, and I will share what I am doing,” she said and stowed her weapon. If he wanted to play, she was game.
His mouth thinned to a grim line.
“That is what I thought. You do not want to share, then stop asking questions.”
A low growl rumbled in his chest. The air around him chilled to the point her breath vaporized in a white cloud.
She stepped back, surprised by his sudden aggression and regretting the fact she armed him with one of her blades. Snaring her wrist, he whipped her back into the doorway.
“Do not make a sound,” he hissed in her ear.
The coldness around him dropped further. She jerked her wrist away, but he pinned her against the door.
“Shh…” His cold breath skimmed across her neck.
Dark energy filled the street, along with smell of rotten eggs. She had been so distracted by their verbal folly, she failed to monitor the source. Bomani’s body shifted, camouflaging her and her powers. She met his gaze, and he turned just enough to look over his shoulder.
A group of humans swaggered up the alleyway. Each member wore a red bandana in various locations. The prickling on her neck increased until it was on the verge of painful, and she locked her gaze on one particular human. Dark eyes and black hair, the man walked in the back of the pack. Where the others slouched with their hoods forward, this male’s hood was down. His gaze shifted right and left.
She traced Bomani’s beltline to the weapon at his waist.
His large hand stayed her from pulling it free. “No.”
The man stopped and looked over his shoulder. Siya’s skin crawled as she stared at the so called human. Its black oily gaze swept over their location before he joined back up with his friends.
Bomani held her taut until the group rounded the corner. The coldness receded, but Siya remained pinned against the door. “I think they are gone,” she said with a glare.
He stepped back just enough to put a few inches between them. “Care to explain what that was?”
“I do not know.” It was not the first time she felt that amount of evil. She just did not want to admit the truth.
He placed two fingers on her chin and tipped her head up. “Sekhmet?”
She winced at the sound of her given name. At one time she was that person, but that was then. She jerked her head back to break his touch, but he grasped the back of her neck. Her scarab mark warmed under his fingertips.
“Don’t.” Siya slipped under his arm, unable to breathe with him so close.
Bomani pivoted to face her.
Her heart slammed in her chest, and she retreated a few steps, unwilling to give up her freedom. He filled her head with memories she would rather forget. “We are done here,” she snapped.
Her words halted him, but he tracked her every movement. “What was that thing?”
“Something that should not be here,” she said and shook her head. Gods, she hated being right. “I need to go.”
She pulled her energy in and vanished before she did something she would regret later.
Chapter Seventeen
Bomani grasped his pounding temple. He had drained his last reserves of energy to conceal them. He had never sensed such dark energy. Everything about the man appeared human, yet it was anything but.
One thing was certain, Sekhmet had lied. He had seen the look in her eye. Sensed her fear. What could possibly spook her enough she had been ready to kill with witnesses present?
He stared down the alley where the youths disappeared. He recognized two of the five from the other night when he had run into the youngling. The young god had the same look in his eyes as her.
And what was Sekhmet looking for exactly?
The goddess had stopped to pick up food, similar to what she had brought him. Was she looking for something or someone? Regrettably, the answers to his questions disappeared with the goddess. He rubbed his fingertips that still tingled from touching her exiler mark. The human was not the only thing to spook her.
Bomani cursed and raked his hand through his hair. He stepped into the goddess’ energy wake. There was a small chance he could track her, but based on her reaction to his touch, it would be a wonder she would not kill him on sight.
He dematerialized and followed the scent of lilacs and vanilla. He reappeared several blocks away. Again, she backtracked several times until the trail went cold. He looked around at the familiar surroundings. It could not be happenstance she brought him back here to where it all began.
He huffed out a breath and trudged into his concrete abode, none too happy to be back here. He landed at the bottom of the elevator shaft and stumbled down the broken slab of concrete.
His head and chest ached with a vengeance even his own fury could not manifest. His gaze fell upon a brown paper package sitting neatly on the column in front of him. He parted the paper, revealing the fresh sandwich. Damn, the female knew how to tempt him in the worst way.
The air shifted behind him and he whipped around.
“You seem surprised, Commander. Were you expecting someone else?” Bast floated down off the fallen wall.
Expecting, no. Hoping, yes.
“No, just surprised to see you slumming,” Bomani hissed in an attempt to hide his disappointment.
“Have you made good use of your time? Have you found your mark?”
“Yes.” He could not risk lying or else Bast would have him by the balls.
“Good boy.” A smile curled her lips. “And?”
“She does not hide her presence and has contact with the humans.”
“Tell me something I do not already know.” She frowned.
“I need more time.” Bomani shifted his coat to hide his blade and the new shirt. Either would raise Bast’s suspicions.
“You have had sufficient time.”
“It is a little difficult when you gave me no information. Or fail to inform me she is the Goddess of War. When were you going to let me in on that little detail?”
Bast lifted her chin. “I told you she was dangerous and gave you strict orders to maintain your distance.”
“Yeah, that helped.” He laughed bitterly.
“You have kept your distance, have you not?” Bast’s green eyes bore into him.
“I am not stupid.” He crossed his arms over his chest to reinforce his lie. He was dumb, stupid and a fool.
“You are a horrible liar.”
The room heated to an unbearable burn to match the redness in her face. “Imbecile! Do you know what you are messing with?”
“No, because you are not being straight with me,” he bellowed, unable to contain his fury.
“You are so damned predictable. I tell you to stay away and you do just the opposite. When will you decide to heed my warnings?” Bast scolded.
Bomani’s migraine settled in for a visit. “And my role in all of this?”
“Had you done as I
asked, it would have been simply to observe, but you could not follow simple directions.” Bast paced the small slab of concrete. “You have no idea what Sekhmet truly is, do you?”
“She is not Creation.”
“On the contrary, her mother was a great friend to the Protectors and served on the Council in the highest stations. A descendent of the royal bloodline.”
“Her father?” Gods, he honestly did not want to know.
“Have you not guessed? I expected more out of you, being the Commander of the Underworld legion for so long. Are you all muscle and no brain?”
“I am sick of your games,” he hissed. The pain surged in his head. He leaned on the wall, fearing he would pass out.
“A god you have hunted for the last year.”
“Menthu.” The God of War had eluded capture despite being impaled in the chest by the Mevt dagger. The god’s body had disappeared from the Thebes’ battlefield, and they had been hunting him since. After all that time, Bast put him on a collision course with his daughter? “You have known Sekhmet’s connection to Menthu all this time and did not see fit to share this information with Asar?”
“The information needed to be protected until the right moment, you understand. Now that Kepi is dead, Menthu needs a replacement. Sekhmet is the logical choice. Her pain and rage will draw him like lions on the trail of fresh blood. When that happens, we will destroy him.”
Bast spoke of Menthu. His father must not have informed the Creation Pantheon about Nebt, the Underworld traitor, joining Menthu’s ranks. Or worse, that Bomani had almost helped her overthrow the Underworld.
“Since you have already revealed yourself to Sekhmet, I want you to get close to her. She is unstable, so it should not be long before her father makes his move. Inform me the minute he does.”
“How do you know he will?”
“Trust me, males are all the same. Predictably stupid.”
“And if Sekhmet does not let me in?”
“Figure it out and do not get yourself killed. If you want to get back in Asar’s good graces, what better way than bringing Menthu down.”
“What of Sekhmet?”
Bast pursed her lips. “The Goddess of War has served her purpose. Her execution will be called forth.”
“Like the warhorses of old,” Bomani muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Bomani leaned against the wall, feeling as discarded as the war animals.
“Sekhmet will face her judgment as all others do in Asar’s great hall. Consider it a belated gift from the Creation Pantheon.”
“A gift?”
“Yes. You will be a hero beyond all others, trust me.” Bast leaned into his chest and dragged her lips against his. “I will see you soon, Commander.” A bright flash announced her departure before he could clarify what she meant by gift.
The room shifted and he landed on his ass. He leaned his head back on the cold stone wall. He had escaped Aaru only to end up in another nightmare and a puppet in a game to capture Menthu, the Pantheon’s enemy. Yet, he would be a fool to pass up this opportunity.
He wanted Menthu with every cell of his being. Nebt—well, Bomani had a score to settle with her. She had used him against his own family. And then there was Sekhmet. Was he willing to sacrifice the goddess to regain his father’s favor?
The wind blew the brown wrapper across the room until it settled next to him on the ground. Pain racked his entire body. He could not sink any lower. There was nowhere else to go but up, no matter the outcome.
No matter the victor.
Chapter Eighteen
Siya crouched in the dark alcove. The knife she flipped between her fingers picked up speed along with the uptick of her pulse. As she suspected, Bomani was not here of his own accord.
She should have known Bast would have her claws in him. She was not sure whether to feel sorry for Bomani or hate him. A glint of jealousy and betrayal burned deep. Why she felt either of those, she had no idea.
Bomani was not Khalfani, she reminded herself.
She ripped the saber from her holster and stalked towards the condemned building. She dropped down into the cold damp basement, anger fueling her decision. Bomani sat slumped against the wall.
She tightened her grip on the hilt. He did not move, but stared at her. Despite him owing her nothing, his betrayal pained her. Not to mention, she despised traitors. “Get up.”
He shifted to his feet. Three hundred and fifty pounds of muscle wavered on two legs.
“I said I wanted no trouble.” She pointed the saber at his chest.
He did not even flinch but stared at her with those brooding eyes. She had seen the expression before, the moment when a warrior accepted his death. His resignation infuriated her. Not that she needed justification to kill him. His association with Bast was enough in her mind. The demon within her craved the scent of blood, just as it had so long ago in the war. Killing had given her great pleasure then.
She flexed her grip on her weapon. Moments ticked by without action. No matter how much she craved it, she could not execute the task. Pity, sympathy, empathy, whatever you call it, slithered its way into her soul.
“Damn you.” She snagged his arm and shifted their energies. When they reappeared she lifted his weight to her shoulder and guided him back onto the dingy old mattress. His body sagged into the bed.
He grasped her wrist, but she jerked it back and stalked to the bathroom. She cranked the faucet and ran water over a towel. Gods, she was going to regret this decision. This orphan could come back to bite her in the ass and bring the whole Creation Pantheon down upon her. And, at least one pissed off Cat goddess.
She squeezed out the excess water and moved back into the room. Pathetic did not cover the incapacitated warrior in her bed. His hand was clamped onto his forehead. Pain contorted his face. Beads of sweat covered his dark skin.
Since the law was written, Underworlders had not stayed for extended periods in the human realm. The side effects would sicken even the strongest god. Still, Bomani’s withdrawal was more severe than she would have expected from a warrior.
She fisted the towel in her hands and sat down on the bed next to him. “What am I going to do with you?”
* * *
Sekhmet grabbed Bomani’s wrist and pulled his hand away from his forehead. Sitting close, his arm fell just at her waist and rested on her thighs. She dabbed his forehead with a cool rag and brushed her fingertips between his bunched eyebrows and up to his hairline. The repetitive motion distracted him briefly, enough he opened his eyes.
She would not meet his gaze, but her soft fingers caressed his face.
“Why are you doing this?” Bomani could not fathom why she had shown him mercy. He had seen the fury and conviction in her eyes, yet she spared him—again.
“Consider it a paid debt.” She wiped his face again.
An hourglass tattoo on the inside of her wrist flashed in his field of view. He grasped her arm with a shaky hand. “Where did you get this?” He traced his thumb against the warrior tattoo carved into her soft skin. He had seen the same symbol on her saber.
She pulled her hand away and rubbed the small mark. “It is nothing.”
“It is not nothing.” Weakened, he dropped his hand away. Her name flitted in the back of his mind, just out of his reach. In its place, sharp daggers ricocheted inside his skull.
“You need to rest.” Her concerned gaze met his.
“It is not nothing,” he mumbled, his body shutting down. Her face blurred.
“You are safe here, Bomani,” she whispered.
He believed her. Sadly, the same was not true for her.
Chapter Nineteen
The pattering of rain on a metal roof woke Bomani from a deep sleep. He blinked, momentarily thinking he was in his quarters in Aaru. Nothing had changed and his regular workday awaited him.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. His heart grew cold as the dim room came in focus. It was only a drea
m.
He surveyed Sekhmet’s quarters, not unlike his own. It was bare of anything personal, just the necessities. A weapons rack on the far wall and a table with cleaning supplies stacked with military precision. Suddenly struck by emptiness, he sighed and scrubbed his head.
Although it still throbbed, it was significantly more tolerable. His exile in the human realm had caught up with him at the most inconvenient moment. Besides the rain, the warehouse remained quiet. Very little light penetrated the half-slit blinds. How long had he slept?
His gaze came to rest on the table next to the bed where he found a towel and a stack of clothes, along with a large bowl of stew. Boots sat next to the bed. By the steam that rose from the center of the stew bowl, a few minutes had passed since it was placed there. The scent of cooked beef and spices beckoned his stomach.
He gulped the glass of water, cooling the burn of his gut. His stomach growled loudly, commanding him to grab the bowl. He savored the meat with slow purpose, despite his overwhelming hunger. A wave of contentment washed over him.
The lessening pain in his head brought his attention to the hollow ache in his chest. He grasped his legion brand and squeezed, but the counter pressure only gave him brief respite.
Running his hand over the pillow and blanket, he was tempted to lie back down. The erotic scent of lilacs and vanilla haunted his sleep and settled an ache in his groin. His libido had taken a hiatus since Kendra. The fact that it suddenly reappeared was irritating. Not to mention it brought back memories he’d rather forget.
He stumbled to the bathroom, eager to wash away weeks’ worth of grime. The warm water soothed his sore muscles but did nothing to erase the pictures of Kendra and his brother from his mind. What had Bomani done wrong anyway? He was there for Kendra. Took care of her when she needed him, yet his efforts failed to win her heart.
Willing the memory of the happy couple out of his mind, he stepped out of the shower and threw his towel over the mirror, not wanting to see the darkness consuming him. He had all but marinated in the hatred and bitterness since the moment Kendra chose Bakari over him.