by Nina Bruhns
Her dreams? Memories of the erotic dreams she’d had of him washed through her mind and body.
If she weren’t so weak with unfulfilled need, she might be insulted. Her desire for him was as real as it got. Their attraction was strong and mutual. Not the result of some kind of voodoo magic. Or dreams.
“Wanting you was not why I came looking for you today,” she began, then paused for a reality check. “All right, maybe it was, but that was only part of the reason.” Unfortunately, she couldn’t remember what the other part was at the moment. “Wanting you was just…” She faltered. What was it? Other than complete insanity? She licked her lips. “…a fantasy.”
He kissed her then. A deep, drowning kiss. And said, “I hope I fulfill it. But I’m going to lift the spell now, so be prepared. Your true feelings about the fantasy may be…other than you think.”
Before she could really comprehend what he was saying—or doing—he moved his hand in front of her and said a few indecipherable words. She blinked, waiting for something to happen. For her burning need for him to lessen or evaporate.
It didn’t.
She didn’t feel any different at all. Just the same incredible attraction. The same dizzying want. The same overwhelming need to feel his body touching hers.
“I still want you,” she said, and pressed herself up against him. Frustrated from waiting. Breathless with anticipation.
Slowly, he smiled and gathered her close. “Good. Because I don’t know if I could have stopped myself from taking you.”
With that, he swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the bath. He stepped in and let her slide down his body until her feet touched bottom. The water was deep, past her knees. It was deliciously warm and effervescent. Cascades of foam bubbles tickled her calves. The spicy fragrance of the crystals he’d added rose in intoxicating drifts.
His mouth came down on hers. Desire roared over her, stronger than ever. She lost all sense of everything but him. His heat, his touch, his scent were all she knew.
Together, they sank down into the water, their kiss a living thing. Deep and intense, wet and thorough. Her heart pounded. Her body quickened and blossomed. Oh, how she wanted him!
“Shahin,” she whispered, and he gave a little groan, pulling her onto his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist, straddling his thighs, loving how he crushed her body to his. She could feel his arousal, thick and long, pressed intimately against her. And she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
“I don’t want to wait any longer,” she murmured. She lifted up, inviting him to thrust in.
“No,” he growled, and banded an arm around her hips, pulling her back down onto his lap. But unjoined. “Not yet.”
She groaned in frustration. “Why? Another spell?”
“This one you’ll like.”
He drove his fingers through her hair and wound it around his fist, tipping her head back. He kissed her again, thrusting his tongue deep, deep into her mouth. He lapped at her and sucked.
“Oh!” She gasped at an unexpected shock of sensation between her thighs. It felt like his mouth was on her there. There. Exactly where she wanted him. He laved her mouth again, and she nearly detonated.
“Good?” he asked, low and rough.
“Mmm,” was all she could manage. How did he do that?
He suckled her tongue as she tried to catch the breath that had stalled in her throat. Pleasure flamed through her center. Her body bowed in his arms.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh, yes.”
He kept at it, making her writhe and pant in electric pleasure, taking her higher and higher until she cried out and came apart in his arms in the most intense climax she’d ever experienced. As her body quaked and shook with the force of her pleasure, the earth literally moved. Water splashed out of the tub in waves. Candles around the room toppled and sputtered out. The gauzy curtains rippled and swayed. He rolled with her until she reclined under him in the water.
“Ohhh,” she moaned as he released his mouth from hers and gazed down at her with glittering eyes. “That was…amazing.”
“We’ve barely gotten started, kalila,” he murmured huskily.
She didn’t think she could move, so she just lay back and enjoyed his ministrations as he washed her body and hair. “You have wonderful hands,” she told him, closing her eyes. She could get used to this.
“You have a beautiful body,” he returned, his touch growing more intimate.
She smiled. And spread her legs for him.
“Are you a virgin?”
Surprised, she popped her eyes open. He didn’t meet her gaze. “Um, no.”
There was a sharp rumbling and a few more candles tipped over. She grabbed the rim of the tub, looking around in alarm. “What is that? An earthquake?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice tight. “Earthquakes are my element to call. Sometimes it happens when I am excited. But more often, when I am provoked.”
She wasn’t sure what to think—about either part of his confession. She picked the easier, but possibly more disturbing issue. “You’re angry I’m not a virgin?”
His head gave a small shake. “No, not angry. Perhaps disappointed.”
His chauvinism was like a dash of cold water. “Shahin, you can’t have it both ways. If I were a virgin, I wouldn’t be here with you. I’d be safe at home waiting for a wedding band.”
“Oh, you’d be here,” he refuted in a gravelly, masculine growl that made her shiver. He dunked his head backward to rinse his hair in the falling stream of water. So damn sure of himself she wanted to strangle the man.
This was not exactly how the fantasy was supposed to go. So while he was rinsing, she got up and stepped out of the bath. She glanced around for a towel.
The water roared and he came up out of it like an avenging god. In less than a second he’d grasped her arms in an iron grip. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Despite the absurdity of the situation, a prick of hurt lanced through her chest. She lifted her chin. “I wouldn’t want to be a disappointment to you, Shahin.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he ground out, water streaming in silver runnels down his hard body. “Of course you’re not.” Behind her, a vase crashed to the floor.
She jumped, eyeing it. “Why don’t I believe you?”
His mouth thinned but he didn’t let her go. “I was born at a time when such things mattered, Gemma. I know better now. I promise. But sometimes it just comes flying out of nowhere. I’m sorry.”
He seemed so sincere she almost believed him. Almost.
His gaze drilled into hers. “I chose you, kalila. You could never disappoint me.”
For a split second she felt herself melting again. Except…then she remembered. He hadn’t chosen her. She’d simply landed in his sexual crosshairs because the demigod he worked for apparently preferred blondes.
Which was probably better than the alternative. But not terribly convincing of his genuine interest in her.
“Come to bed,” he murmured, putting his lips to her forehead. He soothed his hands down her arms. “Let me prove how much I want you. How little I care about your other lovers.”
His hands snaked around to her bottom and gently squeezed as he pressed her closer, center to center.
Okay, so a certain part of his interest was undeniably genuine. And convincing. Very convincing.
She shouldn’t give in to him so easily, but she couldn’t help herself. She still wanted him, chauvinist and all. “I suppose I could pretend to be a virgin,” she said with a moue.
“By Mithra’s balls, no!” he said exasperated, and scowled. “I want you just the way you are.”
She smiled. So maybe he could be taught. “In that case,” she said, twining her arms around his neck, “I may just let you have me.”
Chapter 10
Shahin was thoroughly captivated. Gemma was an inspiring lover.
Stretching awake, he glanced over at her sprawled on the b
ed in sexy disarray, her pale, shapely limbs in pleasing contrast to the black satin linens, her hair a cloud of auburn strewn across the pillows, half obscuring her pretty face.
He’d been agreeably surprised by her.
Rarely did women hold his interest for more than a time or two—after all, how many ways could you join with a woman without it becoming mindless, empty physicality—in other words, boring? But Gemma had kept him aroused and coming back for more the whole night long. She was open and mischievous, curious and seductive, and so damned trusting of him that he actually thought his passion spell had somehow not been lifted, and when she dropped off for a few minutes he’d repeated the incantation to reverse it again. But when she opened her eyes, she’d just looked up at him with that same misty, romantic look in them.
He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled and tell her not to be so bloody naive. He did not trust her; she sure as hell should not trust him.
He would use her and then let her go, as he invariably did with all women. Tender feelings did not enter into his plans. Not with her. Not with any woman. How could they, after the cruel lesson he’d endured at deceitful female hands? Gemma should keep her emotions to herself and not waste them on a man who had no use for such things.
Still, she was unquestionably a breath of fresh air in his all-too-predictable bed. Women tended to fall into two categories with him: those who were terrified of his powers, and those who were greedy for the things his powers could give them. Neither appealed.
But Gemma seemed determined to forget Sheikh Shahin the immortal, and simply made love with Shahin the man. She delighted when he touched her, laughed when he whispered silly things in her ear, shook in explosive response when he made her come. She gave as good as she got, and demurred at nothing he suggested they try.
And he had suggested many things. Things he hadn’t done in ages. Things he hadn’t wanted to do with any other woman.
Yes, she was as captivating as one of Isis’s famed temple handmaidens. A guileless odalisque. An innocent temptress.
He just might have to keep her around for a good long while. Longer than he’d indicated to Seth. And as the captain of the guard, in charge of keeping the per netjer safe from treachery inside and out, possibly longer than was prudent to keep the sister of a traitor.
She stirred and gave a soft hum and a little smile, as though she were dreaming of him. His heart caught.
Followed swiftly by a slap of irritation. He didn’t like that she could cause him to drop his guard for even a moment. With a sharp exhale, he slid out of bed and strode to the bath to clean up and get dressed. There were still several hours of nighttime left and he had things to do.
Leaving his tent, he went straight to the stables to check on Gemma’s little mare. “See to it she is well cared for,” he told the boy, Hasim, whom he’d tasked with the job. “And be sure she does not get loose. Horses have an unerring sense of direction, and she would run straight home.”
“Causing unwanted panic over madam,” Hasim filled in, nodding. Smart boy.
Hasim was a mortal, one of an endless series of orphan boys whom Shahin had taken in over the years and employed as servants in the camp. As they grew to manhood, some became spies for him in the outside world, some given a pot of money and urged into a suitable profession helpful to the per netjer. A few chose to become immortal and join Shahin’s Guardians of Khepesh. All were fanatically loyal to him personally. And amply rewarded for that loyalty.
“Exactly,” Shahin said, ruffled his hair, then reached out to stroke the horse’s muzzle. Having a real animal in camp was rare, other than those they used as food. “Ride her if you wish, come daylight. She’d like the exercise, I’m sure.”
Hasim’s eyes lit up. “Yes, sir!”
Shahin took his leave, striding out into the night, gathering his cloak around him. With a swift twist of his feet and a soft chant of magical words, his body spun in on itself and became the powerful black hawk of legend. His arms morphed into mighty wings that spread wide on the wind and carried him up into the vast, star-spangled sky.
He circled the oasis once, twice, his sharp avian eyes scanning the camp to see that all was as it should be.
The guards were posted. A few fires crackled in stony pits, several of his men and a handful of the camp women gathered around each bright blaze, conversing and laughing as they swapped stories and made plans for the next evening’s sortie.
All was well.
Yet Shahin’s animal instincts took over and he felt suddenly tense. On edge. Something uneasy hovered in the air—a gathering of energy, a premonition, a brush of magic.
But there was nothing wrong that he could see. He shook off the feeling and with a piercing call down to his men, he flew off into the night toward Khepesh.
When he reached the hidden entrance at the very top of the remotest part of the gebel, he spoke the unlocking spell in his mind and the entrance yawned open for him. He flew down the stairs and through the midnight-dark tunnels to the Great Western Gate, where he winged to a halt, wheeled in a circle and shifted back to his human form, landing on his feet at the base of the magnificent silver double portal to the palace.
After speaking briefly with the portal guards, telling them to be on extra alert, he went to find Seth-Aziz.
He found him in his private quarters, reading. Unusual…
“My lord,” Shahin said, sweeping a bow as he studied his leader’s reclining form, “I trust you are well?”
Seth waved him off and set aside the book. “Just a bit tired.” He rose and went over to a silver samovar on a sideboard. “Tea?”
“Thanks.” Shahin watched him pour the thick black concentrate from a small, ornate kettle over sugar cubes in two tall glasses, then fill them with hot water from the samovar. The strong fragrant aroma tickled his nose as he accepted it and took a grateful sip. He and Gemma had managed to squeeze in a quick meal amidst their bedplay, but they’d not bothered with after-dinner coffee. They’d been too distracted by lust.
“I see by your expression you have something to report,” Seth said, settling comfortably onto a silk divan, glass saucer on his knee.
Shahin paced to a copper brazier that blazed in one corner of the room and stared into the flames. “Haru-Re continues to post his guards along our frontier. Our spies are convinced he is readying himself for action against us.”
“Not unexpected,” Seth remarked, sipping. “Last week he warned us if we didn’t agree to share Nephtys with Petru, it would mean war.”
“And yet we do nothing,” Shahin said, turning in frustration. “I do not have a good feeling about this. We must answer his moves with our own!”
“What would you have me do?” Seth asked calmly. “We do not have the numbers to defeat him in battle. We know it. He knows it. I must resort to other means to quell his threats.”
Shahin blew a breath through his nose. “You speak of Lord Kilpatrick.” Seth’s plan to use his former master steward as a kind of Trojan horse—something he’d inexplicably neglected to tell the man in question—had been a huge bone of contention between them since Kilpatrick and his lover defected to Petru last week. “I cannot believe you would leave the fate of Khepesh in the hands of—”
“No,” Seth interrupted. “I am hopeful Rhys will help our cause from inside Haru-Re’s stronghold, but I do not depend on him.”
“What, then?”
Seth smiled. “Superior strategy.”
Shahin hiked a brow, polishing off his tea and setting the glass aside.
Seth shrugged. “Sounds better than fervent prayer and a lot of luck,” he said philosophically.
This attitude did not bode well. “You cannot give up, my lord. We all depend upon your strength and wisdom to get us through this crisis.”
“I have no intention of giving up. But—” he sighed “—I am…tired.”
Shahin straightened, suddenly understanding. “You need blood.”
“I’ll admit I�
�m starting to feel the delay of the ceremony.” He regarded Shahin somberly. “You must fetch the sisters today so I can feed at once.”
“Sister,” he corrected, nodding with purpose. This was good. “I already have Gemma Haliday at my camp.”
It was Seth’s turn to raise his brows. “Indeed? Were you so hungry for the taste of her you couldn’t wait?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Shahin felt his lips curve. “She was the hungry one. She sought me out yesterday, riding into the western desert on her own to search for our oasis.”
Seth’s grin turned lopsided. “I’m surprised you are here.”
“Surprised, why?” asked Nephtys as she breezed into the room and sized them up with a single glance. “Ah, a woman, I gather. Who is it this week, my lord sheikh?”
“Miss Haliday,” Seth answered for him, sounding amused as well as mildly impressed. “Gemma, that is. She went to the oasis all on her own.”
Nephtys gazed at Shahin consideringly. “Interesting. Did she come for you, or her missing sister?”
“Both,” he answered. “But she will stay for me.”
“No ego there,” Nephtys said, and poured herself a glass of tea. “I assume there is a spell involved?”
“Not at the moment.”
“That is impressive. Mabruk, Shahin. Perhaps you have finally found a woman who will put up with your foul temper and moody disposition.” She winked to soften her words, and added a dollop of milk to her tea.
“Amusing as always,” he said drily. Nephtys was the one woman in the world he trusted enough to let tease him with impunity. “But it will do her no good to ‘put up with me.’ I am not interested in keeping her.”
“One day,” Nephtys said sagely, “you will have to set aside your need to punish all women for the evil deeds of one, Sheikh Shahin.”
“Not until my enemy has paid that debt with his life,” he returned emphatically. He did not like being reminded of the reason for his defensive posture toward females.