Outside, he shuddered and patted down his body to make sure he hadn’t acquired any new friends.
“Did you say scorpions?”
“Yeah, dozens of the fuckers.”
Mikey grimaced. “We should capture one before they all crawl away.”
Juste raised his head and speared Mikey with a fierce frown.
Mikey raised both hands and shrugged. “I’d volunteer, but I’m allergic to bee stings.”
“They’re not fuckin’ bees.”
Shaking his head, Mikey grimaced. “Still …”
Juste growled and stomped back up the steps. In the kitchen, he grabbed a plastic dish from a cupboard then whipped his tie over his shoulder before he headed toward the bedroom. He’d get himself proof something completely unnatural had occurred inside this trailer. And maybe something a little extra to set free inside Mikey’s car—just for fun.
But once he started stalking one of the bastards, he decided he wouldn’t release one on his worst enemy, much less his smart-ass partner. They were fast, and tossed their tails back and forth like tiny maces. Once he lowered the dish over a particularly fat specimen and inched the lid beneath it to trap the poisonous critter, he got out again as fast as he could.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Mikey held up his phone. “I told them to bring Terminix.”
Justin handed the container to Mikey, who squinted at the lid and made a face but manfully accepted it, then quickly dropped it on the hood of his car with a plop.
About to turn away, Juste noted a scratch mark beneath one of the windows in the front of the trailer. A window that opened into the guard’s bedroom. The latch had been tampered with. Had someone broken it to drop scorpions inside the bedroom? How could they have been sure the venom would kill the guard?
Juste didn’t mention his questions to his partner. “Think she’ll like fried chicken?”
“Do girls built like her even eat fried chicken?”
“Guess I’ll find out. I’m starvin’.” He picked up the plastic container containing the scorpion and gave it a shake.
“That lid on tight?” Mikey asked, eying the container.
“Worried it might get loose?” He did his best to hide a chuckle.
“I’m the one drivin’. You don’t want to end up in a canal, you better stop playin’ around.”
“You afraid of bugs, Prejean?”
A shiver shook Mikey’s shoulders. “I’m not afraid. Just don’t like ’em.”
“Wonder how many people knew the guard had an issue with scorpion venom.”
He shuffled his feet. “Someone who worked at the museum?”
Thinking around the scene in the bedroom, Juste repressed a shudder. “These scorpions look like something that even lives around here?”
“I’ve seen little brown ones, but nothing that effin’ big before.”
“Wanna lay bets they live in Egypt, that you can find ’em in the millions near Thebes?”
Mikey’s mouth pursed. “Maybe you should ask your girlfriend about ’em.”
Chapter Twelve
Juste didn’t wait to get the question answered. He stomped in his front door, bearing a bucket in one arm and the plastic dish with his little spiky friend.
Mikey followed and closed the door.
Khepri didn’t blink an eye, bending to glance inside the dish, before sniffing at the Colonel’s Original Recipe.
“You ever see a scorpion that big where you come from?”
“Often. We had to check beneath beds and pallets, and shake our shoes before donning them. Their sting is very painful. Sometimes deadly, if the person has been bitten before. Tolerance is lost over time.”
Just as he’d thought. “Have you ever been bitten?”
“No, they don’t seem to mind me,” she said, giving him a little smile that looked suspiciously smug.
He tilted his head, studying her and wondering if she was really that talented of a storyteller. But her voice sounded sincere.
“You don’t believe me?” She picked up the dish. “Can you open this?” she asked, after turning it this way and that.
He grabbed the container and burped the lid open before handing it back. “You should be careful.”
“I’ll come to no harm.”
As he watched, she reached into the dish, turning her hand and allowing the scorpion to crawl up the length of her arm. When it reached her shoulder, Khepri lifted her gaze. “They sting when incited or frightened. But this one knows I mean him no harm.”
“So you can handle them?” Juste asked, his stomach tightening.
“I have lived with them since I was a child. Should I have shrieked every time I encountered one, or learned to ‘handle’ them?”
“She’s got a point,” Mikey said, flashing Khepri a smile as he reached into the bucket for chicken leg.
Her head canted. “Why did you bring this to me? Do you not have scorpions here?”
“We have them, but I don’t see ’em often and they’re much smaller. The place we just visited was crawlin’ with those things. Killed the man we wanted to talk to.”
Her face grew still and her lips tightened. “Perhaps we have even less time than I thought.”
“Less time for what?”
“For me to find Amun’s naos. A sanctuary or his image. I must seek a vision.”
Juste shook his head, but he reached into his pocket, pulling out the brochure for the exhibit. He’d bite and see where she led. “Anything in here you need?”
She opened the brochure and began leafing through the pictures. She had almost reached the end when her eyes widened. “It is here.” A slim finger pointed at the statue of a man seated on a throne, holding a looped cross in one hand and wearing a tall plumed hat that very nearly didn’t fit beneath the ceiling of the box-like shrine where he sat.
“What is that?”
“The naos. My husband’s shrine. The place where I may talk to him and he to me.”
Talking to gods? Juste kept his expression neutral, but didn’t miss Mikey’s raised eyebrows. “The museum’s closed. First thing in the morning, I’ll take you there. Let you confer with your husband.”
Her shoulders lowered, her relief a palpable thing as she smiled. “Thank you, Justin Henry Boucher.”
Mikey cleared his throat and reached for another chicken leg. “What time you wanna meet?”
As he thought about the next day’s plan, Juste slanted a glance at his partner. “Will you ring Dorman and ask him to open up for us at nine?”
“No problem. Nice to meet you, Khepri.” His gaze dropped to her shoulder. “You might wanna do something with that.”
While Mikey let himself out, Juste stared as Khepri gently removed the scorpion and dropped it back inside the dish.
“You should cut holes so it may breathe.”
“It’s not gonna live very long. ME’s gonna want venom to match what might be inside that guard’s bloodstream.”
“You speak and I hear the words, and I know they mean something, but …” She shook her head and laughed. “I suppose it shall take time. I wish I had more to prepare, but this little visitor is likely a precursor of things to come.”
That didn’t sound good. “You sayin’ I’m gonna have people droppin’ around the city like flies bein’ scorpion bit?”
“No, I’m saying the Scorpion King has come. If he is not already resurrected, he will be soon.”
A shot of alarm jolted his body and Juste blinked. He was damn glad Mikey hadn’t been around to hear that bit. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk so much.”
She pressed her lips together. “I understand. You are tired. Why not sleep on that soft mattress of yours?”
“Uh unh. I want you where I can see you.”
“Do you not trust me now? You left me by myself for quite some time. I didn’t disappear.” Her head shook. “I wouldn’t.”
“Maybe I want to keep you safe.”
“Maybe you will feel safer if I am near
?”
“Whatever.”
She smiled and thin crinkles appeared at the edges of her eyes. “I will rest with you, Justin Henry Boucher.”
“It’s Juste.”
“Just what?”
“My name. Call me Juste.”
She nodded. “I like all three. Must I choose only one?”
“I feel silly when you use them together.”
“Do I seem silly to you, using your three names?” Only she looked at him from beneath the thick fringe of her eyelashes, and the last thing she seemed was silly.
Sexy. Fresh. So beautiful she made his teeth ache. “I’ll take the couch.”
Thin brows furrowed. “Take it where?”
He waved his hand toward the brown couch. “I’ll sleep there.”
“No, you will not. We will both rest. Together. Because you wish to keep me safe.” She stepped closer and gazed upward. “And I would consider your protection for this night a gift.”
He couldn’t resist meeting her honey-brown gaze. “You shouldn’t tell me things like that. Shouldn’t put me on some pedestal, like I’m really that well intentioned.”
“Do you not intend to keep me safe?”
“I do. But I also …” He bit back the rest of what he wanted to say. I want you. Under me. Surrounding me—arms legs, silky depth.
“You desire me?” she asked, her voice dropping to a breathy whisper.
“I shouldn’t.” His hands tightened into fists at his sides.
“You are a temptation for me, as well. I’m not sure how to respond. Whether you were given to me as a gift to enjoy or as a temptation I must resist.”
That was a new one. “You think I might be some kinda cosmic test?” He almost smiled.
“Wouldn’t you, if all your life you found the strength to hold yourself apart and then one day … couldn’t?”
Juste growled, his head wagging in denial. “Don’t say things like that, sugar. Not to me.”
“Because you will take advantage if I am weak?”
Juste swallowed hard. Either she really was that damn innocent, or she was one helluva a prick tease. His cock was hopin’ for the latter. “Go get under the covers. I’m takin’ a shower.” A damn cold one. If he was lucky, she’d be asleep by the time he finished.
Her eyes downcast, but a tiny smile curving the corners of her mouth, she slipped past him.
Justin breathed in her fresh scent and felt a cramp in his groin, knowing sleep was the last thing he’d be getting this night.
Episode Four
Part IV – What the Heart Wants
Chapter Thirteen
Justin Henry Boucher stayed in the shower so long Khepri knew he was avoiding her. The thought was disappointing. With so little experience deciphering sensual clues, she’d obviously read him wrong. He considered her a responsibility. Someone to keep safe. Perhaps someone he wanted to keep close because he didn’t trust her. That was all.
So when the water ceased trickling behind the closed bathroom door, she turned on her side, giving him her back to make the situation easier, and to keep her disappointment hidden should he glimpse her before extinguishing the light. She held her breath as he entered the room.
Not looking fed her imagination and made her heart race. Would he be naked? Or would he be wearing sleeping clothes, like the pajamas Denise had given her? Although sleeveless and short and made of an airy, stretchy cotton, the garment was still restrictive. She preferred sleeping in the nude. Something she didn’t think her grumpy protector would approve.
The bathroom light went out. Footsteps padded nearer … and then paused beside the bed.
She breathed deeply, letting the sound fill the silence and hoped he was fooled. Would he choose the bed as he had reluctantly promised? Or would he leave her for the uncomfortable couch too short to accommodate his tall frame?
The bed dipped and she smiled, relief making her feel lighter. Even if he was here under duress, she needed him close by. Someone solid and real, warm and breathing. Someone who tethered her to this place and this time. As he settled, shifting this way and that, she almost resented the wide, soft mattress because they could both sleep comfortably and never touch, which was his apparent goal since he never scooted nearer.
Truth be told, she should be grateful he didn’t want to press his attentions. Her willpower was at low ebb. However, she craved contact—just the warmth of his chest beneath her cheek would do. That would be enough to make her feel safe, enough to let her relax and rest, if not sleep. No, she wasn’t ready to close her eyes. Her heartbeat trembled and raced again at the thought of the last time she’d lost herself to darkness.
After a drawn-out moment, she turned, carefully rolling to her back and then her other side, her gaze finding the outline of his large torso in the darkness.
“Go to sleep,” he growled.
At his testiness, a smile tugged at her mouth. The texture of his voice was rasping, almost physical in the way it caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. “I can’t.” She bit her bottom lip, then gave into the impulse. She edged closer.
He drew a breath. “What are you doin’?”
“I’ve decided I want to be held.”
“Not a good idea.”
She scooted again until the tips of her breasts touched his chest and his sweet breath gusted against her face. Heat warmed the narrow space between them.
Khepri slipped a hand beneath her cheek and whispered, “I’m afraid to close my eyes.”
He swallowed then cleared his throat. “Why’s that? Afraid of nightmares, cher?”
Nightmares would be welcome. She shook her head, the sound rustling on her pillow. “I’m afraid of falling into darkness again. Afraid that when I waken, I’ll be somewhere else. Not here … with you.”
“Now, where else would you be if not here?”
She heard the note of doubt in his voice. Knew he hadn’t believed her the first time she’d told him, but she persevered. “When I was smothered to death, I was in a cave, far away and long ago.”
The mattress jerked and his breath hitched again. “Smothered?”
“Yes, the vizier took pity on me after he had wrapped me. He placed his hand over my nose and mouth to take my breath.” She shuddered at the memory.
Juste spat a soft curse then moved, his arm slipping over her hip, his hand cupping her lower back to draw her body closer. He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “You don’t have to be scared of fallin’ asleep. I’m right here, Khepri. I’ll keep you safe.”
The comfort was just that—offered selflessly and without motive, she knew, despite the firm column trapped between their bodies.
“Ignore it,” he whispered.
She’d never felt an erection before, and to have it pressed against her intimately was so tempting she couldn’t pretend the hard shaft wasn’t there. The tips of her breasts hardened, poking at his bare chest. Her breaths shortened. The urge to nuzzle, to rub against him, was overpowering.
Husband, give me strength or give me a sign.
She moved closer, at last nuzzling the side of his neck. Sweat sprouted on his skin, and her lips brushed it. A tingle vibrated against her lips, and she drew back slightly before again pressing her mouth against his skin. Another tingle, one that shivered through her body, surprised her. She rubbed her mouth against him, opening to lick his skin, and light exploded behind her closed lids, rocketing her beyond herself.
Images flashed. Of her … and him. Locked together. His lips against her neck, his hand cuddling her breast. His length thrusting deep inside her body. Her own expression, wracked with exquisite, painful joy, caused tears to prick her eyes. She gasped, raised her eyelids, and tipped back her head. “Did you feel that?”
He didn’t answer, but his hand was tight on her arm, nearly bruising her; his body was tense, head to toe. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Did you feel that?” she repeated. “The spark. Like heat lightning. Did you see?”
> Another swallow, and his hand eased its hold. “Dammit, Khepri. This isn’t good.” He glided his hand up her arm to her face. He cupped her cheek; his thumb rubbed her lower lip. “You make me want …”
The desperation in his voice matched the feelings whirling inside her. Oh, she wanted too. And this time, Khepri didn’t resist the new urge. She licked the hard pad and drew his thumb into her mouth. She wasn’t sure where she’d found the courage, but heat was curling in her belly, tightening. Her legs shifted restlessly, her knees bumped his thighs, and then her uppermost thigh glided over his to bring her body closer still.
Closer, but still a gaping chasm loomed between what she needed of him and what he seemed willing to give.
He grasped her shoulder and gently held her away. “This can’t happen.”
“It must. I burn, Justin Henry—”
“Stop. You’re afraid. You want comfort, but tomorrow, we’ll both be sorry.”
“I won’t.” Her heart pounded at his words.
“Your husband—”
“You don’t believe he exists.”
“But you do.”
“He gave us his blessing. You felt it too. I can’t turn aside from his gift.”
“What gift?”
“You. You are my gift.”
A groan sounded, followed by a hoarse laugh. “I’m nobody’s gift, but if you don’t stop movin’ like that …”
She hadn’t realized she was undulating her hips until he spoke the words. The movement seemed to ease the restlessness. No, not ease—it strengthened her desire, stoked the fire in her belly. Flexing her hips, she pushed against his clothed erection and groaned at the sweet pressure.
His hand clamped a hip. “Woman, don’t move.”
He said it between clenched teeth, which told her his desire was just as strong. Triumph swelled. So did her confidence. “Mate with me, Juste. I’ve waited for so long.”
Crescent Moon Page 9