“I don’t want you getting drunk because of me.”
“Yes, well, my liver.” Flopping onto her back, the moon dragon moved her arms and legs, as if she could create a snow angel in the dirt and grass.
“If mother could see you now, all dressed up but acting like a tomboy she’d have a fit.”
“You won’t tell her. You’ve never snitched. I’m staying, if you haven’t figured it out yet. But I won’t help you dig up your mate.”
“Then why are you staying?”
“Because you need me, and I want to be here.”
Isis did need her sister, if for nothing more than emotional support. But Nephthys couldn’t want to be there, any more than Isis did. After tonight, Isis would have to be better. If not for her sake, then for the sake of her mother, sister, and friends.
She removed her robe, allowing the silk to slip from her body and onto the ground. Turning thoughts within, Isis envisioned her hybrid form and reached for the dragon magic that lived inside of her. Fire surged through her body, beginning at her toes and moving up her legs and to her hips. Heat flared outward but continued its ascent to her waist, chest, shoulders, and arms.
By the time her sun dragon magic reached her face, Isis’s entire body crackled with strength. Magic sizzled from her tailbone where her red dragon tail, long and thick with alternating rainbow colors on the underside, fell with a curl at the end. Dragon feathers of red with white tips pushed from her back, splitting skin and breaking bones, then reforming as her wings grew outward and upward.
Although she couldn’t see them, her eyes were the same fire red as when Isis transformed into her full sun dragon form.
If she’d been in this form, when that demon had come for her, her daughter would be alive. For the first time since venturing down to what was now the Philae cemetery, Isis permitted herself to look at Asim’s final resting place. Her throat tightened at the sight of the heart-shaped headstone, white granite with pink writing and a baby sun dragon sleeping on a cloud.
“Our beautiful baby girl,” Isis read, her voice cracking. The middle of the heart, where a name should be, was empty. But the date of her child’s death was there. The same date as Osiris’s. “Our missing heartbeat.” Isis’s gaze swung to her sister, who now sat upright, her eyes on Asim’s headstone.
“Mother asked me my opinion.” Her right hand came up to her chest, over her heart. “It’s how I would feel, if you died.” Nephthys shifted her teary eyes to Isis. “You died, didn’t you?”
“Did the doctor or paramedics tell you that?”
“No.” Nephthys’s hand dropped to her lap. “My heart stopped. I was flying to the hospital when it happened. I couldn’t breathe and almost fell from the sky. It hurt so much, your missing heartbeat.”
Isis and Nephthys shouldn’t have this level of intense connection. Most days, Isis never thought about their bond because it was her normal. Today, as they watched each other, she wished they weren’t so close, wished her pain wasn’t also her sister’s.
“I’m sorry.” Inadequate words for what she was feeling, but Isis didn’t know what else to say. “I’m so sorry.”
Nephthys shook her head, swinging braids back and forth. “It’s not your fault. You wouldn’t be Isis if you didn’t love deeply. When are we going to talk about what happened to you?”
Her sister meant when Isis would be ready to tell everyone who’d hurt her and her plan for finding the monster and making him pay. If the resurrection went as she hoped, Isis would have a fuller picture of their enemies. As it was, all she knew was that a demon had shot her. She hadn’t even seen all of him. But she would never forget his eyes and voice.
“Tomorrow night. Me, you, Mother, and the Tyets.”
“Good.” The moon dragon gestured to Osiris’s grave with her hand. “Go on. I’ll stay here and watch, in case something crazy happens.”
As if the power to talk to the dead wasn’t already crazy.
Isis shoved her grief deep inside. She could no longer afford to fall apart. There was at least one demon in the human realm where none should be. Considering how Osiris had been dismembered, there were likely many others. She needed to find out what happened to him and who was responsible. Tonight, if possible.
True to her word, Nephthys watched as Isis used her hands, wings, and tail to remove the dirt that led to Osiris’s casket. When she hit the mahogany finish, Isis stopped. She stared down at an average size casket, eighty-four inches in length, twenty-eight inches wide, and twenty-three inches high.
“We used strips of magically-treated linen to bind his dragon body together. A lot of it. It took me and the Tyets hours to get the binds around him nice and tight.”
Jumping into the hole, Isis began to displace more of the dirt from on and around the casket.
“I prayed over Osiris’s body once all of the layers of linen were wrapped around him. I then gave him proper funerary rites.”
“You used your moon dragon magic?”
“Yeah, when I was done, he shifted into his human form, which I didn’t expect. It did make burying him easier, though.”
Isis unlatched the lid to the casket. With a calming breath, she lifted the cover. The top half revealed a tan velvet interior with a French fold design. On the pillow and under a tan matching throw lay her mate, swathed, from head to toe, in white linen.
“The wrapping molded to his smaller body after the shift.” Isis glanced up to see her sister standing on the other side of the hole. “He looks like a goddamn mummy. I didn’t know I could do that.” Hands rose. Nephthys turned them from one side to the other, examining her hands for an explanation she already possessed. But one that had never set well with the sisters. “We’re so fucked up.”
She couldn’t agree more. If not for Isis, Osiris would be alive.
Isis unlatched the second half of the casket, reached inside and cradled Osiris’s mummified body in her arms. Lifting into the air, Isis flew out of the hole. She settled Osiris on the ground beside the five canopic jars. On her hands and knees, she placed the jars around his body, one on each side, one at his feet and two by his head.
His human body held only a portion of his organs, which made him incomplete and Isis uncertain of the effect her power would have on his corpse. She had no training or reference point. All she had were her instincts, which told her she needed to return his organs to his body before she could reach his soul.
Isis opened each jar, then looked to Nephthys who shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Okay then, I’m on my own. How in the hell am I going to get Osiris’s organs inside his body?
Kneeling by his hip, Isis’s front was perpendicular to Osiris. She laid one hand on his forehead and the other on the arm closest to her. Isis stretched her wings out over the length of his body and permitted the feathers to drape down and around him, a protective curtain of red-and-white.
Shoulder-length braids fell into her face, when Isis lowered her head. Opening her mouth, she blew sun dragon magic onto her mate’s deceased body. Out it came as rings of dragon claws, circling the body before linking together and drifting down to the white binds. The magic seeped through the linen cloth and into Osiris. Isis’s wings grew even more, curving inward until none of Osiris and the jars were outside of the heated border.
The wings flittered as Isis blew more rings of dragon claws onto the prone form. Through exhalations, she prayed for his soul.
Red smoke rose between them, and Isis blew even more magic onto Osiris. The linen burned with sun dragon magic, but not the kind of fire known to humans and this realm. It didn’t char the linen or the flesh underneath. What it did do was burn away the devastating vines of death, scorched the eroding blemishes of decay, and scalded the incapacitating legacy of pain.
Encapsulated in the mysticism and the touch of goddess Wadjet, Isis had no concept of time. All that existed, in the suspended animation between death and resurrection, was fire, hope, and love. A trinity of magical realism
that blurred the lines between natural and supernatural.
Linen unraveled under Isis’s otherworldly power and cascaded to the mundane setting that was the grounds of Philae Manor.
The hand on Osiris’s arm balled into a fist, and Isis’s eyes flew to his face when she heard a soft exhale of breath. That couldn’t be right, although she was certain she’d heard something from him.
This wasn’t what she had in mind when she’d envisioned resurrecting her mate. She hadn’t meant it in a literal bodily sense, didn’t think that was even possible. A dragon’s soul existed in their heart. With Osiris’s organs in his body, as well as around him, Isis intended to draw the balance of his soul from his corpse and into the canopic jar with the three-headed dragon lid, while using her magic and wings to, metaphorically, hold Osiris together as a whole unit.
Once sealed within the safety of the canopic jar, she would temporarily transfer his soul to a willing dragon-host, through whom Osiris could speak. His brother Set or another member of the Clan of Ombos would be the best choice, but going that route would increase the probability of Makara finding out. Temporarily resurrecting Osiris’s soul to find his murderer wasn’t the same as bringing Makara’s son back to life. No matter how much they both may have wished it.
Yet, as she gazed at him, eyes closed, skin flawless, and body healed, she couldn’t stop herself from lowering her lips to his.
Tears slipped from eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed. For a hopeful, insane moment, Isis thought the goddesses had taken pity on her heart and returned her Osiris. They hadn’t. Her magic and prayers hadn’t even drawn the soul out of him. She couldn’t even manage that feat. Helpless, Isis had never felt so—
A gentle hand brushed away her tears. “Why are you crying?”
Isis’s eyes popped open. Dark-brown orbs she loved so much stared back at her. There was recognition, as he took her in, but not the love and intimacy she’d grown accustomed to having reflected at her.
Isis lowered her wings and scooted backward so Osiris could sit up. When he did, the last strips of linen fell away. Her hand twitched to reach for him and pull her mate into a desperate embrace. Instead, she remained silent as the confused Osiris took in his nude form, Isis’s dirt-covered body, and a retreating Nephthys.
“Did I get drunk and go streaking?” He glanced around, eyes moving from the empty grave, his headstone, and then to the piles of dirt. “What in the hell is this? Are you playing a Halloween trick or something, Isis?” Osiris jumped to his feet, heedless of his nudity. He pointed at his headstone. “That shit isn’t funny. I would’ve never thought you would play this kind of sick prank.”
Osiris glared at Isis, which she ignored as she rose to her full height and approached him. Recalling her wings and tail, Isis stalked toward her resurrected mate. When she reached him, he stopped fussing and lowered his eyes to hers.
As she’d done hundreds of times, Isis grabbed Osiris by the nape of his neck, pulled him down to her and kissed him.
Chapter 6
He had to be drunk out of his dragon skull. Either that or Osiris was having the strangest dream ever. He could do without the Halloween theatrics of the grave and headstone but the sexy dragon kissing the hell out of him was worth any amount of mental instability he may be experiencing.
Osiris raised his hands to Isis’s waist, needing to see if the rest of her felt as real and as good as her lips and tongue. Big hands and long fingers took in the soft silk of her short nightgown, which fit the delicate contours of Isis’s perfect body.
He didn’t know what he’d done to get this lucky, but he’d take it. She’d asked him out a couple of days after his presentation at a DIG board meeting, and he’d been shocked into silence. He’d nodded, and she’d waited for Osiris to say something. When he didn’t, just stared at her like an idiot, she’d found a business card in her purse, turned it over and wrote down her cell number. Tucking the card in his hand, she’d smiled, shook her head when he still didn’t speak and then walked away.
He’d watched her go, high heels clicking all the way down the hall and around the corner. Even after she’d disappeared, Osiris had stayed in the hallway, the merger few at Kemet Holdings wanted all but forgotten in light of Isis Philae’s unexpected dinner invitation.
Now he held her in his arms, matching her hungry kisses with his own but having no idea how they’d gotten from that awkward moment at DIG’s corporate headquarters to the Halloween horror show behind Isis. He’d wanted to ask but had no desire to do anything other than bask in the moment, especially when her hand lowered to his dick, which twitched at her soft, exploring touch.
She moaned and wrapped her hand around his erection, all the while kissing him in a way that didn’t feel like the first time they’d done this. Yet it was, although her hands on him were knowing and possessive.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. They’d seen each other a few days ago.
“Isis…”
Man, he couldn’t think or speak, not with her lips on his neck and her hand pumping him to a quick, embarrassing orgasm. If they were going to have sex, and it seemed they were, Osiris didn’t want their first time to be like this. He’d known Isis her entire life. But they’d never hooked up. She hadn’t struck him as the jerk-a-dragon-off-in-the-middle-of-the-night kind of female.
Classy, brilliant, and conservative, that’s how he saw her. Conservative didn’t fit what she was doing to him, leading Osiris, by his dick, no less, away from the fake cemetery and into the woods. When her back met tree, Osiris lifted Isis and pressed her against the large pine. Legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his shoulders.
This time, he kissed her, and she tasted so good. The dragon radiated heat, which made sense since he held a sun dragon. He thought she sported wings and a tail earlier, but that couldn’t be right.
He palmed her ass. No dragon tail.
“Rip them,” she whispered against his lips.
“You’re panties?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. It isn’t as if you haven’t done it before.”
Actually, he hadn’t. Had Set been running his mouth again, spouting off about things he didn’t know a damn thing about? It would be like his younger brother to fill Isis’s ears with lies and gossip if he thought it would benefit him in some way.
Isis framed his face with her hands, a tender touch that had Osiris turning his face and kissing her palm.
“You’re so beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before, but I’ve always thought it.”
“You’ve told me many times.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and he didn’t understand her shift from sexy siren to weeping willow. Nothing about this night made sense to Osiris. He didn’t taste alcohol on either of them. His mind seemed fine, although a little jumbled, and Isis appeared lucid, despite her strange behavior.
So what in the hell was he missing? Why did Isis look at him with an odd mix of melancholy and affection? If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he glimpsed love in her gaze.
When she leaned in and claimed his lips, it was with none of the force and desperation from before. Isis took her time, sipping from him as if he were a delicacy she wanted to savor. She sucked his tongue with the same burning hot passion.
Osiris didn’t rip her panties, but he did push them to the side before sliding into her. They moaned into each other’s mouths at his entry. She was wet and warm, and Osiris was at a loss to explain how being inside Isis felt like the best homecoming.
Everything about the sun dragon, her scent, taste, and feel, hell, even the way she moved against him and sighed her pleasure in his ear, his moaned name on her sultry lips, had Osiris’s mind reeling.
Shutting his eyes, Osiris pushed it all away. Everything about this night that didn’t make a damn bit of sense, he shoved it out of his mind. He didn’t want to think about anything other than having sex with Isis.
> Holding her tight, he pulled back from the tree, worried she’d get scratches on her back, and knelt. Once on the ground, Isis readjusted herself, unfolding her legs and placing her feet on either side of his hips.
Face-to-face, she moved on top of him. Breasts were pressed against his chest, which he adored, their fullness and softness. The grazing of erect nipples through her nightgown and the slide of taut stomach felt incredible.
The thought of Isis’s flat stomach, for some reason, had him lifting his hand and moving it toward her silk-covered belly. She caught it and brought his hand to a breast. Through her nightgown, he squeezed and played, thumbing her nipple and smiling when she arched into his touch and swiveled her hips.
Like all the other annoying puzzle pieces of this night, the wrongness of Isis’s flat stomach was also pushed away. For whatever reason, she’d decided to take him as her lover without the buildup that came with dating and getting to know the other person. They’d bypassed everything which, again, wasn’t like the Isis he knew.
Nephthys, maybe, the moon dragon had a different relationship code than her sister. Set had learned the hard way that a sexually liberal dragon wasn’t the same as a promiscuous one. His broken nose had healed. Osiris didn’t think his wounded pride had.
Belatedly, he remembered he didn’t wear a condom. The thought that he could get her pregnant sent a wave of pain through his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Sharp, the sensation of a knife digging into the back of his head competed with the pleasure of being inside Isis. “I don’t know. I had a crazy thought, and my head began to hurt.”
“What kind of thought?”
Isis no longer swiveled those sensual hips of hers, which wasn’t what he’d wanted. But yeah, maybe they should slow down and figure a few things out before they went too far and they’d be stuck with a hatchling and each other.
The pain increased, and his hands flew to his head. Shit, what in the hell was wrong with him?
20 Shades of Shifters: A Paranormal Romance Collection Page 249