Keeping his feet planted behind her, he twisted his body around hers and bent low, his lips closing in upon her nipple once again.
‘Oh...’ she breathed as his mouth tugged in a gentle rhythm, and he felt her body stiffen with want.
They remained entwined like that until low, rhythmic moans began escaping her lips.
He detached himself from her breast and stood tall once again. The heat between their bodies had expanded and their skin had become slick with their sweat. What would it feel like to slide up and down her slippery body? To push himself into her hot, wet entrance from behind? His desire stood throbbing against her backside. There was no cloth between them, nothing to prevent them from becoming one.
He was so close.
All he would have to do...
* * *
She could not endure it any longer. There he was—so large and so hot behind her. Hastened by the moisture of her own sweat, his desire slid against the small of her back, as if begging for release. But it was she who was begging, for the searing ecstasy of his lips upon her breast had been too much to bear.
‘Please,’ she cried. ‘Please.’
She stood on her toes. And then he was there, pushing himself inside her from behind.
‘Ah...’ he groaned into her ear, and a fiery pain ripped through Kiya’s body.
It was him, the whole of him, entering her. His hands clasped her waist and he pushed, aided by Kiya’s own wetness, up through the painful tightness.
‘Oh...please...’ Tahar moaned, and then his entirety was inside her and they were one.
The pain was exquisite. Tahar moved slowly up and down, touching the deepest parts of her. The feeling was like nothing she could have imagined. She was so full of him. All of her body seemed to be crying out for the sweet agony he delivered with each thrust. His breaths grew frenzied, his movements more rapid. He nuzzled his face into her hair and seemed to become lost.
Then he froze. Kiya sensed his efforts to gain control of himself. She could feel his throbbing heat. Gently, he pulled himself out of her. Then he turned her around to face him. He grasped her face in his arms and pushed his lips upon hers.
Those lips. They were the lips she craved. The ones that pushed and probed, that funnelled his vast desire into her with such gentleness. But this time his mouth was hotter, wetter. It moved faster and more powerfully against her own. His hands toyed ruthlessly with her nipples while his tongue plunged unapologetically into her mouth.
She felt her entrance begin to throb with renewed longing and the pain melted away. She wanted him back inside her. She wanted to feel him plunge into her once again while he kissed her. She wanted him to possess her completely, to flood her with himself.
She pushed her hips against him.
He felt the push of her hips and the return of her longing. He smiled to himself. Ah, this was going to be sweet. He kissed her hard with his mouth and let his finger slip gently into her.
‘Oh...’ she breathed.
She was so incredibly wet. He stroked her gently. Softly.
His kisses became softer, too. He withdrew his tongue from her mouth. Then he traced his finger along her lips. He would return to them soon. Now he had other business. He kissed her breasts—a dozen tiny kisses finishing at her nipples—the right then the left.
He kissed down her stomach, arriving at her navel and pillaging it with his tongue. He continued kissing downward until he found himself on his knees, humble before the Goddess.
Her hands tousled his hair. What are you doing? they asked.
He caressed her lovely buttocks. Just you wait, they told her. He kissed her soft, curly mound, then let his tongue probe deeper. He could hear her suck in a breath. He reassured her, moving his hands across her muscular legs. He moved his tongue slowly up and down her folds. Once. Twice. Her fingers raked across his head. Thrice.
Her body shivered. Yes, my love, it seemed to say. She opened her legs slightly, reminding him of that day in the cave. Gods, how he had wanted to feel her fingernails in his hair then. Now he had earned it.
He moved his tongue slowly: he did not want to scare her. Her buttocks flexed. Her stomach moved up and down. Her obvious hunger made him wild with lust. He made his tongue taut and traced the soft contours of her entrance. Then he probed deeper. Her hands planted themselves firmly on his head. He pushed his tongue into her. Her hot wetness enveloped him. Her hands squeezed and her body shivered. She was nearing the edge.
Seth’s teeth, so was he. He pulled her down to her knees and their lips met again. They twisted around each other, their bodies sliding against each other, unable to get close enough. They writhed and coiled, stretching to discover every hill and valley, every plain of flesh—like two serpents inextricably entwined, tangled together beyond time.
Tahar rocked backwards, lacing her fingers with his as he lay back upon the ground—atop the Great Pyramid of Stone—desperate to feel her above him. He pulled her down until her hands were flat on the ground and her legs were straddling his waist. He could feel her hot, wet entrance. It rubbed against him, teasing him. Would she do what needed to be done? Perhaps he could nudge her.
‘I have to tell you a secret,’ he said, thrusting his hips upwards.
‘What secret?’
‘Do you remember the day in the cave? When I extracted the venom from your leg?’
‘Yes, of course. That was incredibly kind of you. It was beyond kind. It was—’
‘There was no venom to extract,’ Tahar said.
‘What?’
‘I lied. It was an excuse. I wished to get closer to you.’
He watched her shadowy expression in the starlight. It moved from confusion to surprise to indignation and finally to thrill in fascinating, irresistible waves.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You are a wretched demon,’ she said, smiling.
‘You have no idea how badly I wanted you that day,’ he said.
‘I must punish you for your treachery.’ She positioned him at her entrance and leaned down to kiss him.
And it was the most delicious kiss she’d ever tasted. Feeling the tip of his need hover at her entrance while she entwined her tongue with his sent an ache through her body so sweet it verged on pain. She pushed herself onto him slowly, teasingly, giving and then taking back, until he groaned with yearning. She kissed him again. Then she pushed a little more. More kissing. Finally, she had sheathed him.
He let out a howling groan. Then he placed his hands on her waist and rocked her gently up and down. A strange wave of pleasure began to grow within her. It felt so good, and his gentle encouragement stimulated a haunting need. She felt her whole body begin to curl up into a tight ball of want. They continued to rock, faster and faster, until she felt as if she were careening down the side of the pyramid.
Or maybe they were careening together.
Then—crash. She shattered above him. Her body convulsed in waves of pleasure and release. What strange, wonderful feeling was this? A second later he followed her—exploding into a million pieces—and she shivered as he throbbed inside her. She collapsed upon him and they lay together, still joined, breathing heavy breaths. He pulled her onto his chest and they embraced for what seemed like minutes, hours, a lifetime.
Finally Kiya rolled over onto her back. And there was Thoth, in his full, glowing glory. She had not even noticed he had risen. She peered at Tahar as the moon’s soft glow washed his handsome face with light. Already she missed their joining. Already she craved his touch.
Together, they stared up at the great globe and the infinity beyond it. Tahar retrieved his headdress and placed it beneath their heads. He lifted her arm and placed a dozen long, lazy kisses upon it. She turned to him and stared into his eyes, breathing in the delicious odour of his breath.
‘I don’t want t
his night to end,’ she said.
‘It never will,’ he said. He rolled over on top of her and began kissing her again.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
They were two nomads who had found each other, two solitary serpents who twisted and coiled together until it was unclear where one ended and the other began. There, at the centre of the known world, two beleaguered souls converged and their burden of solitude was lifted.
Soon Thoth sank near the horizon and the stars began to disappear from the sky. Kiya buried her head into the space under Tahar’s arm, vowing never to forget how beautifully they had shone.
Ra came in a burst of light, despite how much Kiya wished him away. A memory of that morning of the grain raid rippled through her body, and she half expected to find a viper at her feet. An epiphany struck.
‘Tahar, whenever you save my life a serpent precedes you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The day of the raid, a viper appeared on my foot before you captured me.’
‘But I captured you. I did not save your life.’ Tahar tilted onto his side and gazed at her quizzically.
‘You did save my life,’ Kiya said. ‘Or did you not notice the arrows that flew past me just before you lifted me onto Meemoo?’
‘Ah, the arrows...I did see those.’
‘I was a fool to resist you.’
‘Indeed you were. But thanks to my formidable strength, you were not able to.’ Tahar flashed Kiya a self-assured grin.
‘I believe you saved me even before that moment,’ said Kiya.
‘How so?’
‘You waved your headdress upon the bluff that day, just before the Sun God rose.’
Tahar lifted a brow. ‘How did you know that was me?’
‘I guessed,’ said Kiya, smiling. ‘Your warning caused a stir amongst the workers. It scared the viper that had coiled around my ankle.’
Tahar reached his arm down her body and circled her ankle with his hand. ‘This ankle?’ He dived beneath the headdress and kissed it.
‘You saved me a second time after I was bitten by the asp,’ Kiya said, enjoying the softness of his lips upon her skin.
‘I will own to that without protest,’ was Tahar’s muffled response. ‘And now I am obliged to kiss your inner thigh.’
He moved his lips upon her skin softly, almost imperceptibly, causing her whole body to shiver.
‘The third serpent appeared only days ago,’ she pronounced.
‘It did?’ asked Tahar, emerging from under the headdress.
‘Aye. It was a golden cobra, rising from the base of King Khufu’s crown on the day of my wedding. Khufu was the third serpent.’
‘Khufu himself was the serpent?’
‘And you saved me from him.’
Tahar shook his head. ‘But how did I save you, dear woman, if I am the reason the King condemned you to death?’
‘You saved me because if you had not appeared I would have wed the King and my life would have ended.’
Tahar lay back and stared at the sky. ‘You would have become a great queen. I dare say your life would have begun.’
‘A life of lies and manipulations—a prison of pomp and power. No life worth living.’
Tahar pulled her atop him and placed a dozen soft kisses on each of her fingertips. ‘I do not believe in prophesies, but I will admit that in this case your mother may have been right. Three serpents did try to take your life. And the third almost succeeded.’
‘Almost,’ said Kiya triumphantly, ‘but not quite.’ She touched her lips to his.
The Sun God moved higher in the sky. They kissed until his rays poured over them and tiny beads of sweat began to form upon their skin.
‘We must be on our way soon,’ Kiya said. ‘If Imhoter made it through the night he will be arriving presently.’
Kiya cringed. If he had made it.
She stood and gazed out at the workers’ village but could not discern any movement in the harbour or adjacent river. If Imhoter was coming for them he was moving in the shadows, invisible even from above. She fixed her gaze southward, where small rivulets of smoke twisted upwards from Memphis and the palace’s strong walls glowed white in the morning light. Neither victor nor vanquished could be seen; the city looked almost serene.
Tahar lay upon his back, gazing up at Kiya’s naked body, now drenched in Ra’s light. ‘If I am to pass into the next world on this day, let this be the last thing I remember.’
Kiya reached out and offered her hand. Today they would discover if Imhoter had survived, and if they would survive, too. And yet Kiya was content. She looked into Tahar’s eyes. It had all been worth it.
But they could not delay any longer: they needed to descend. Kiya placed her silk dress over her head while Tahar fashioned his headdress into a taut loincloth around his middle.
‘You are so beautiful in that dress,’ said Tahar. ‘I have never seen anyone more beautiful.’
Kiya felt a tear of gratitude find its path down her cheek. ‘You are kind. You have always been so kind to me,’ she said.
It was cool and dark inside the tomb once more. To Kiya, the air felt thicker than it had yesterday, the enclosed space more suffocating.
As they began their downward trek her mind raced. What if Imhoter had been taken? What if the Libu and Nubian raiders—or the King himself—had deemed Imhoter too great a threat to allow the holy man to live? Imhoter’s demise would surely spell doom for Kiya and Tahar, though as they descended the tunnel, Kiya could only think of Imhoter himself, whom she had grown to love like a father. She could not bear the thought of opening the door of the Pyramid and not seeing his kind, wrinkled face, his mysterious eyes staring back at her.
‘It was dark like this where I was imprisoned,’ Kiya said absently, trying to calm her worried mind. ‘I could not discern whether it was day or night.’
‘You were taken to the prison after we parted?’ asked Tahar.
‘Nay, I was kept in the basement of the Royal Harem—in a storage room guarded by a barred metal door.’
‘But how did you escape?’
‘Iset, one of the King’s concubines, visited me there. At Imhoter’s behest, she delivered me a heel of bread.’ Kiya thought of the poisoned wine, but did not mention it. ‘The bread contained a metal rod. Did Imhoter not tell you of this ploy while you were locked away together?’
‘He said only that he held hope for your arrival,’ said Tahar.
‘The holy man reveals little,’ said Kiya, walking slowly downwards. ‘He surrounds himself in mystery.’
‘That is true. But how did you manage to break out of the room with only a small metal rod?’ asked Tahar.
‘There is a stream that runs through the cell. It is guarded by small metal bars. I used the rod to bend the bars enough to squeeze through them. I followed the stream until I was released into the King’s Shallows.’
‘And the Shallows led to the River?’
‘Aye, though I had to squeeze through another barrier before I reached it.’
‘How did you squeeze?’
‘What do you mean, how did I squeeze?’ Kiya asked, confused.
‘Would you say it was...like a serpent?’
‘I suppose...’ said Kiya.
They walked on in silence for several moments. Her mother’s words filtered into her mind. Beware the three serpents. Each will try to take your life. The third will succeed, unless you become like. That was all she had said. It had never occurred to Kiya that that had been all she had meant to say. Like what? Kiya had always wondered, but now her mother’s last message rang perfectly clear.
Like a serpent.
A serpent was what she had needed to become, and she had. She had squeezed and swum and slunk her way out of the
Shallows. Her silken dress shimmering like a second skin, she had slithered onto the docks and stolen her way to the slaves’ quarters where Tahar and Imhoter had waited, holding out hope that she could do it, that she could make it.
‘That is it. That is the meaning of the prophesy,’ she said, and her words echoed in the tunnel like prayers.
‘Perhaps some illusions are not false.’
‘It was not just an illusion,’ said Kiya. ‘I did not tell you this, but my mother spoke that prophesy to me the day she died. I was quite young. I scarcely remembered it until the day of the raid.’
Tahar was quiet. After several moments he spoke again. ‘It is hard to lose a parent in one’s youth. I lost my father as a boy.’
‘You did? How?’
‘You must tell me first how you lost your mother,’ Tahar said lightly. ‘Terms of trade.’
Tahar’s body was following so closely behind hers that she could feel its warmth. She knew that if she were to stumble upon any stone he would be there to catch her.
‘The story may seem to you fantastical,’ Kiya warned.
‘I will never doubt you again,’ said Tahar.
Kiya described her mother’s place in the late King’s harem. She explained her mother’s special magic, her ability to tell tales, and the love she’d given to Kiya so grandly and fiercely. Kiya recounted the day of the raid on the harem and how she had found herself, at the age of seven, alone and hungry on the streets of Memphis.
‘Then you are the daughter of a king,’ said Tahar in wonder. ‘You are noble.’
‘It was my mother who was truly noble, for she refused to be taken alive,’ Kiya said proudly, though she knew the statement was not entirely true. In a sense her mother had begun to kill herself long before the raiders had invaded the harem. It had not been milk of goat that had filled the vials from which her mother had drunk so greedily.
What pain had Kiya’s mother suffered that she should fall under the spell of the dangerous tonic? What terrible trauma had she endured that she would leave her beloved daughter alone in the world, without putting up so much as a fight? It was a mystery that Kiya feared she would never solve. Besides, she liked this version of her mother—the noble concubine.
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