by Jasmine Walt
Momentarily lifting my butt off the desk, Marcus inched my dress and underwear over the curve of my hips. He knelt, sliding the fabric down until he’d uncovered every part of me and a small pile of white linen and light blue lace lay on the floor at his knees.
He was utterly transfixed by his examination of my body. Tenderly, greedily, he kissed my inner thighs, leaving a trail of pleasurable, electric fire as he moved higher. Brazen moans escaped my throat, growing desperate the closer he came to the junction between my thighs. I’d become so incredibly aroused during the process that as soon as his mouth closed over my most sensitive of places, as soon as his tongue caressed me, pleasure exploded in my core. An intense, electric sensation throbbed outward toward my nerve endings, making me gasp and groan as I shuddered.
“Mmm . . .” Marcus rumbled, giving me a long, languorous lick.
“Marcus,” I gasped, tugging at the shoulders of his shirt to bring him back up to my level. He stood, catching his breath when I found the hard length of him and rubbed it through his pants. “I need you inside me . . . please . . . now. Marcus . . .” I begged. He’d said I would beg, and he’d been right. Something was happening inside of me, something wild and terrifying, and I seriously feared for my sanity—and possibly for my life—if I didn’t join with him immediately.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined hearing you say those words,” he said, stepping back to pull his shirt over his head.
Oh. My. God. His pants were suddenly on the ground and he was absolutely, wonderfully naked. My eyes feasted on his pristine masculinity. The lines of his muscles all flowed together in a pattern that screamed of savagery, strength, and sex.
I wasn’t allowed to stare for long. He resumed his position between my legs, rubbing himself against me and kissing me deeply. “What do you want?” he asked against my mouth.
“You,” I breathed.
“Where?”
“Inside me,” I said. My pulse was erratic, my need for him all-encompassing. To continue living, to continue breathing, I needed to be one with him. It was the only thing that mattered.
With one hand between my shoulder blades and the other pressed against my lower back, he lifted me off the desk and sank himself into my core.
“Marcus!” I exclaimed. Finally he was inside me, joined with me, where he belonged. I’d been aching for him so intensely that it both satiated and stoked an infinite hunger—feasting on Marcus only made me want more . . . need more.
Still joined, he lowered me to the ground until my back touched canvas. Watching my face with unrivaled intensity, he slowly moved within me. His eyes scoured my features like he was memorizing me, preparing to immortalize my every expression in stone. He continued the achingly slow pace until I made a noise of frustration—a groan mixed with a growl. I wanted more. I needed more.
“Ah . . . that’s what I was waiting for,” he said roughly and brushed his lips against mine. He pulled away just in time to hold my eyes for his first, powerful thrust. I nearly screamed.
Moving with the precision of a calligrapher and the focus of hunter stalking prey, Marcus was the embodiment of raw, unbridled sexuality. His intensity only increased, and he became the center of my world . . . he became my world. Nothing existed outside of him and the way he felt . . . tasted . . . sounded. With my enhanced Nejerette senses, I experienced sensations unlike anything I’d ever felt. But, there was something else . . . something more . . . something different.
As I cried out and dug my nails into his back, climaxing unexpectedly, Marcus roared above me, his whole body tensing with the strength of his own release. I thought he was finished. I was so wonderfully wrong.
Flipping me over onto hands and knees, Marcus reentered me. Strong and solid, his arms wrapped around me, one at my middle and the other reaching higher so he could wrap a gentle hand around my neck. He held me against him, kissing my shoulder and the side of my neck as he resumed his relentless thrusting.
Abruptly, he reached a second, more intense crescendo, driving into me as deeply as possible and holding me against him in a crushing embrace. He touched me with his fingers as he filled me, dragging me with him over the edge and into an abyss of white-hot pleasure.
I gasped, oblivious to everything but him. “Marcus! Oh God, Marcus!” Even after the spasms subsided, my pulse throbbed under the hand he still held against my pubic bone. I let out a shaky breath. Is it possible to die from too much pleasure?
“Fuck, woman . . .” Marcus groaned.
“Hmmm . . . mmm . . .” I mumbled lazily.
Hours later, I was straddling his hips as he lay on his cot. He was once again hard and sheathed inside me, but we remained still. We both enjoyed the sensation of being joined, motionless, like we were one being. Elbows on his chest, I was resting my chin on my hands and watching him as he studied me with an unfathomable expression.
“Is it always like this?” I asked.
He traced my lips with his thumb before sliding both of his hands down my body, grazing over my breasts, belly, and hips. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve never felt anything like this . . . I don’t think I could have felt anything like this before,” I explained. “When two Nejerets are together, is it always so intense?”
Inhaling deeply, he grasped my hips and ground his pubic bone against mine, pushing himself deeper within me. An involuntary groan escaped from my throat, and he smiled lazily. I loved when he smiled like that. It seemed to temporarily wash away all the pain and inhumanity that had built up over his thousands of years.
“No,” he said. “Definitely not.”
“But how do you—” I let the words die unspoken at his wary expression. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“No, you don’t,” he agreed. His voice had deepened, grown rougher, and I felt him throb inside me. After another slow grind and my answering moan, he said, “Whatever genetic mutation enabled us to enter the At also altered us significantly from humans in other ways. Regeneration, sensory enhancement . . . you know about those changes. But there are other, more subtle differences. Some of our people have been researching a pheromone we release when we’re particularly enamored with someone. We seem to have specific receptors that become, for lack of a better word, addicted to a specific Nejeret or Nejerette’s pheromone. We call it ‘bonding.’”
Nuin’s prophecy mentioned bonding—Heru will make her his she-falcon and she will bind herself to him. Was it referring to an actual, physiological phenomenon? I’d thought it was figurative, but I’d been wrong about so many other things, it was feasible that I was wrong about that as well.
Marcus’s expression filled with amazement as he continued, “I didn’t expect it to be so intense, but it’s the only explanation for . . .” He closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep, blissful breath. “It’s the only explanation for this.” His fingers dug into the soft swell of my hips as he pushed deeper into me once again.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, trembling. I sat up and ran my hands over his tensed abdomen. “So you’re not usually such a repeat offender?” I teased, shifting my hips in a slow, circular motion. He’d already reached completion three times in the past few hours—a feat I hadn’t known was possible for a man in a single night, at least, not a human man. But human was something Marcus had never truly been.
Groaning, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back as I continued to move on top of him, so incredibly slowly. He was practically panting, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the enraptured expression on his face. “No, Lex . . . I’m not. At least . . . not with . . . quite so . . . many . . . repeats.”
Convulsively, his hands clenched on my hips, and his breathing turned erratic. He made a guttural noise and raised his head, his blackened-gold irises locking onto their red-brown counterparts. I could feel his abs flexing rhythmically under my hands.
“Lex,” he whispered, letting his head fall back. “Lex . . .”
I leaned down and kissed the shallow valley b
etween his pectorals, darting out my tongue to taste his damp, salty skin. When I raised my eyes, I found him watching me. Without breaking eye contact, I again touched my lips to his skin and whispered a single word. “Mine.”
27
Sex & Blood
“Do you think they know?” I asked, peeking through the door of Marcus’s tent. The sun had just risen, bringing our sprawling canvas town to life. I should have been exhausted from sleeping only a few hours, but I wasn’t. I was exhilarated.
Chuckling, Marcus wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my neck. “Little Ivanov . . . they heard.” I groaned, and Marcus’s chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. His breath tickled my skin as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. “We need to shower—you smell like you just had marathon sex.”
“Funny . . . I wonder if that’s because I just had marathon sex.” I leaned against him, already wanting him again. The hyperaware, hypersensitive bonding thing would take some getting used to—everywhere he touched me felt infinitely more sensitive than it had the previous day, and I couldn’t resist touching him at every possible opportunity.
“It just may be,” he said, nibbling the curve between my shoulder and neck. “But I don’t want anyone else smelling you like this.” He inhaled again. “Mmm . . . this is mine.”
“There’s a slight problem, then,” I told him.
“Hmm?” His attentions to my neck continued, giving me goose bumps.
“We have to pass pretty much everyone on the way to the showers, and they all have noses, so . . .”
He smiled against my skin before letting me go and poking his head out of the tent to bark some orders to my guards. Minutes later, we stepped out into the bright light of the new day; the camp appeared empty aside from my guards, who were standing about ten tents away. Marcus had cleared us a path.
We stopped by my neighboring tent so I could grab some clean clothes and toiletries, and then we headed to the shower trailer beyond the west edge of camp. We showered together in the large, handicapped stall, washing each other liberally. We were nearly finished when Marcus slipped his hand between my legs.
“Marcus! You’re defeating the purpose,” I gasped as his fingers found my most sensitive place.
“Apologies, Little Ivanov, but seeing you like this—” He removed his hand, and within seconds, had my back against the wall, my legs wrapped around his hips. “—I . . . just . . . can’t . . . resist.”
We agreed to wash our own bodies after that, “to prevent wasting all the water,” Marcus had said. I’d laughed.
Finally, hand in hand, Marcus and I emerged from the trailer, clean and fully clothed. I wasn’t prepared for the dozens of Nejerets who offered us generous bows and congratulations as we walked back up the main drag to our tents. Marcus, on the other hand, accepted them graciously, almost as though he’d expected the reaction.
“I’ve never had so many people excited about my sex life,” I murmured, hoping only Marcus was close enough to hear.
He shot me a look that told me I was being unbelievably dense.
“Oh.” I blushed, realizing my folly. Apparently I was still thinking like a human. “It’s because I claimed you, and you accepted, isn’t it? So . . . what does that mean?”
“In human terms, we’re married,” he explained, stopping at the entrance to my tent.
I gaped up at him. Like having children, I had pretty much given up on the idea of ever getting married, instead opting to gallivant around the Mediterranean, searching for remnants of the ancient, forgotten past. Besides, Marcus was pushing at least five thousand, while I was pushing only twenty-five. And we were married? Oh my God . . . what are my parents going to say?
He kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “I’ll have some of the guards move your things into my tent along with a larger cot. Tonight we can further explore the more personal details of our marriage . . . if you’d like.”
Regardless of my mental woes, I smiled, feeling my body tighten in anticipation. “I’d like,” I said quietly. I was pretty sure the whole “marriage” thing had yet to really sink in.
Marcus pulled away, his eyes burning with promise. “Gather what you need for the day. I’ll meet you here in five minutes.” He walked toward his tent with purpose.
Ducking inside my own canvas home, I took a few humongous breaths. Much had changed since I’d left the previous night, and I couldn’t help but lose myself in the unbelievably pleasant memories.
“Lex!” Marcus called from outside. “Hurry up! I’m famished!”
Laughing at myself for getting lost in daydreams, I picked up my excavation bag and hurried out into the warm desert air.
“We thought maybe—” Neffe began, but she was silenced by a sharp sound from her father. “It’s her choice,” she snapped in response. She was sitting across from me at one of the green fold-out picnic tables underneath the canopy at the west edge of camp. Dominic sat beside her, and Marcus beside me while we ate a breakfast of oatmeal and fruit salad.
“What is my choice?” I asked, shooting Marcus a suspicious glance. He needed to learn that he couldn’t run my life by omitting certain significant pieces of information, mythic Egyptian god or not.
Ignoring her father’s furious glare, Neffe explained, “When I was growing up, shortly after Senenmut presented him with the tablet containing Nuin’s lost prophecy, he”—she pointed her chin at Marcus—“left my mother and me because Set threatened to take my life if he stayed. He didn’t know why Set made the threat, but he knew Set would carry it out because of what happened with Aset—Isis—and he knew Set would hold his word and not kill me if he left.” Her full lips curved down in a frown. “Set does have a sense of honor, twisted as his mind is. Anyway, my mother was furious—maybe because having Heru as her husband was part of what kept her in power as the mighty pharaoh Hatchepsut—so she took up with Set instead. My father made Senenmut stay behind to watch over for me and keep me safe in his absence, but my mother coerced him into obeying Set, if only to ensure that Set would stay with her so she could retain her power.”
God, she sounds like a real gem of a mother, I thought sarcastically.
Sighing, Neffe continued, “In the guise of my mother’s stepson, Set forced Senenmut to work as his own personal architect, designing and constructing a handful of projects throughout the land. We now know that one is the very temple we’re searching for, though nobody but Set, Senenmut, and the workers knew about it at the time, and Set cloaked all echoes relating to the temple long ago, before anyone knew to look for it in the At . . . not to mention he killed all of the workers upon its completion, including Senenmut.” A deep sadness stirred in Neffe’s eyes, and I instantly knew that she had cared deeply for the ancient architect.
“It wasn’t until we found Senenmut’s second tablet in his mother’s coffin that we had some idea of where Set had hidden the chest containing the ankh-At.” Squinting, Neffe looked up at the expanse of tan canvas sheltering us from the morning sun. “And that was maybe . . . around fifty years ago that we found the tablet.” She shook her head, swishing her thick black ponytail. “The point is, none of us can break through his cloak, but you can because you share his DNA and you’re a manipulator. None of his other children, at least not the ones on our side, can manipulate the At. But, if you can slip through his cloak and learn the exact location of the entrance in the upper Anubis chapel, it would save us from having to tear the whole thing apart in our search.”
I wanted to help, but I was scared. As the Meswett, I was supposed to be strong. I was supposed to save my people—and the world—but memories of Set and his poisonous words plagued me. And he had Jenny. What if I did something to anger him, and he took his rage out on my sister? But . . . what if we managed to find the hidden entrance, enter the temple, and somehow open the chest containing the ankh-At—Nuin’s power—and gain control of that power before Set could coerce it from me? Surely, once I’d accessed Nuin’s power over time, defeating Set
would be easy. No Set, no Nothingness, safe world. It was ideal and oh so close I could almost reach out and touch it.
“I’ll do it,” I said, determined. Marcus’s hand clenched my thigh, but he let my decision stand. “When?” I asked.
Neffe’s eyes darted back and forth between us. “How about now?” she suggested.
“Now? Here?” Marcus spat. Turning all of his attention on me, he murmured, “You can do this later, Lex. We have time.”
I leaned in, giving him a very steamy kiss, and whispered, “Be back in a few.”
And then I was gone, enmeshed in the absolutely when-less Where for the first time. It intrigued me that the At’s kaleidoscope colors flowed ceaselessly up and down, as opposed to the round and round of the where-less When I’d grown so familiar with. Shifting my focus slightly to the upper Anubis Chapel, I thought about Set . . . really, really hard . . . and eventually the world slammed into place.
I stumbled forward several steps, listening as the ground didn’t crunch beneath my feet. When I finally righted myself, I noticed two robed men standing before me, one pale-skinned—Set—the other tan.
Set tapped on a limestone wall, speaking in what sounded like the same beautifully sibilant language I’d heard Marcus use several times—Middle Egyptian. It was so similar to Nuin’s language . . . just not quite the same, like Spanish versus Italian.
“You should know better than this by now,” Set said from behind me. I knew it was the real Set—his ba—not the echo of a past version of himself like the Set I was watching interact with a man I assumed was Senenmut.
I groaned. He’s right. I really should know better. I did know better . . . but people were depending on me.
“I’m looking for the entrance. I thought you wanted me to find it so I can access the ankh-At,” I said. “That way you can try to command me and all . . .”
Set laughed. “I want you to find it in the right state of mind. Are you in the right state of mind, Daughter?”