Lord of the Desert--a full-length contemporary paranormal romance

by Nina Bruhns

  And, lord, was he ever handsome. Smooth, angular features boasted long-lashed, slumberous eyes and sculpted lips. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his arms corded with strength, his chest muscular and ripped, his waist narrow, and his horseman’s thighs hard as iron. Not to mention his long, thick stallion’s cock, ever at the ready to rise from its rest amid thick black curls.

  Just looking at the man’s nude body made her weak with desire, ready to spread her legs and beg him to take her just one more time.

  “Maybe,” he finally answered, making her scramble to remember what the question had been. “Do you care if Seth knows we defied him?”

  She closed her eyes and stretched out on the bed. “Not at the moment. Ask me again when he’s about to drain all the blood from my body.”

  Rhys frowned. “Not remotely funny.”

  “Sorry.” She turned and nestled up against him. “It’s either that or cry. Up until now, I’ve been trying my damnedest not to think about the future, but... What’s going to happen to us, Rhys? Seriously.”

  “I honestly don’t know. Seth could be merciful. We’ve been friends for a long time. And his interest in you seems more tied to Nephtys’s vision than any real attraction.”

  She sighed. “Duty. That’s what he called me.” She didn’t want Seth’s romantic interest, but still. That stung a little.

  “Don’t take it personally. He’s always been distant with women. Not much luck with females over the years.”

  “Which is why he sends you out to do his bidding.” She poked his ribs none too gently. “Mr. Charming Seducer.”

  “Hey!” He rolled her under him and wedged his hips between her thighs. “I think you will not have to worry about that any longer,” he said drily. “Even if I survive Seth’s displeasure, my days as master steward have no doubt run their course.”

  She gazed up at him, feeling love and guilt and distress all rolled into one giant lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, Rhys. I’m so sorry I’ve come between you and your friend. God! I wish I could go back to before all this started. Back to that day I was searching the gebel for your grave site with Mehmet. He told me not to go into that damn tomb, but would I listen?” She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Do you wish you had?” Rhys asked softly. “Do you wish you’d taken his advice and never gone into that tomb? Never found the secret of Khepesh? Never met me?”

  She searched her heart. Did she?

  Oh, God, if she had the chance to do it all over again, would she choose to pass by that fateful tomb, and never be parted from her sisters? Never have to face an eternity as consort to a vampire? Never meet the man she would love until the end of time?

  She swallowed and felt the warmth of tears trickling down her cheeks. “No,” she whispered, knowing that having these few precious moments with him made all her future anguish worthwhile. “I would do everything exactly the same. Every last minute.”

  Chapter 35

  I love you through the daytimes,

  In the dark,

  Through all the long divisions of the night...

  —Song on an Eastern Vessel

  Sunset was approaching as they left Rhys’s house, walking hand in hand to the meadow behind the stables. The air had cooled from the scorching heat of day to a pleasant evening warmth, and a soft breeze played with Gillian’s pale hair, messing it up even more than his fingers had earlier. She looked fragile, but oh, so beautiful.

  “I dread going back,” she said.

  So did he. “Then let’s stay out for a while longer.”

  The sky was a kaleidoscope of dazzling color. Oranges and pinks swirled in the west around the dying orb of the sun, topped by a meringue of blues and purples that melded into the indigo of the night sky to the east.

  It was the kind of sunset that begged to be enjoyed and revered, offered up to the gods as a token of earthly devotion.

  He shifted into al Fahl and she climbed on his back, and together they rode out into the vast desert, up to the highest point on the gebel.

  There they stood, the lone woman and the wild beast she’d so thoroughly tamed, watching the ark of the sun be devoured by the mouth of the Night God. She stroked his equine neck with loving hands, just as she had stroked his body as they made love earlier. He could feel her strong knees pressed into his ribs, her silky, bare thighs wrapped around him, the pushed-up hem of her dress an insubstantial flutter against his thick hide.

  The sultry heat from between her parted legs insinuated itself into his consciousness, bringing him to full erection. He could smell the scent of her, of him, of their intense and fevered sex, clinging to her skin, his own essence still deep within her, proclaiming her to all as his.

  As the last burning vestige of the sun was eclipsed by the black rim of the Western Desert, he raised his head and let out a powerful whinny, joining the chorus of jackals and wildcats and the other night creatures that greeted the darkness. All around the desert, the voices of the night lifted, a cacophonous noise to celebrate the daily defeat of the sun god Re-Horakhti to the sovereignty of Set-Sutekh, Lord of the Moon.

  Rhys felt Gillian shiver in fear at the unearthly sound and lean forward to cling to al Fahl’s mane. She didn’t know that no creature would dare harm her because she now belonged to the per netjer of the Guardian of Darkness and rode the ghost stallion.

  He reared up, turning, and started the chant, catching her in his arms when she tumbled from her seat as he shifted back to human form.

  He kissed her deep and hard, and shoved her dress from her shoulders, peeling it down her body until she was naked before him. His arousal still throbbed for her, thick as a stallion’s and with a stallion’s appetite.

  He splayed the buttons of his trousers, letting his desire spring free, then urged her to her knees in the sand. She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the glitter of the stars and moon above. Slowly, she moved closer, her lips parting and her tongue reaching for his rampant cock as their gazes met and locked.

  She painted his turgid flesh with hot, wet strokes while she wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed. He grunted, a harsh, animal sound that vibrated from deep in his lungs. Her lips opened wider and enveloped him, almost bringing him to his own knees.

  His voracious hunger exploded as she worked him. He shot his fingers through her hair and wound its length around his fist as though she were the horse and he the rider. When he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, he dragged her mouth off him, and dropped down in front of her. He took her lips, and tasted himself on her. Desire flamed through his body, his carnal flesh still feeling the echoes of his recent shift.

  Fist still in her hair, he quickly turned her, pushed her to her hands and knees, and with a mighty thrust, mounted her from behind.

  She cried out his name and arched her back, meeting his thrust with one of her own. Accepting his domination. Urging him to go faster, harder.

  The animal in him thrilled to his possession of her. As did the man. They rode their passion to the brink of ecstasy, faster, harder, deeper than ever before, then together they closed their eyes and left the world behind in a blinding explosion of hearts and bodies.

  In the dark desert night, with the stars and planets as witnesses, Rhys knew she had become his one true mate.

  Chapter 36

  “Why did you do it?”

  Rhys wasn’t sure to what Gillian was referring. “It” could be any number of things.

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “Join the per netjer of Set-Sutekh.”

  “Ah.”

  They were wrapped in his Bedouin cloak, lying in each other’s arms on the warm sand and gazing up at the vast blanket of stars that twinkled overhead in an obsidian sky. Neither was in any hurry to face what awaited them at Khepesh, so they pretended it didn’t exist. For now.

  “I mean, you were a British lord, a man of considerable wealth and privilege, with a life anyone would envy. What made you give it all up, for...for this?”

>   He pushed out a breath, casting over the memories he carried of his birthplace. The cold images and feelings had softened with time, but none were particularly content or happy, even seen through the tempering lens of a century and a quarter.

  “I don’t see it so much as giving up anything, but as gaining something else. Something much better.”

  “What?” she asked. “What did you find here that you didn’t have before?”

  “A home. Family. People who understand me and need me.”

  She canted over his chest and rested her chin on her hands. “But your real family seems nice. The ones alive today, anyway. They care about what became of you.”

  He made a face. “They care about the Kilpatrick name,” he corrected. “Heaven forbid my legacy besmirch it. Which reminds me, you should send a report to them saying you didn’t find my grave. The last thing we need is some nosy Kilpatrick showing up looking for it, or you.”

  She nodded. “I will. But I still don’t understand what made you choose Khepesh as your home. You could have just run off to America or Australia and lived like a king. Why join a cult in an uncivilized country, serving a god you don’t believe in?”

  “Egypt is hardly uncivilized. It’s the very cradle of human civilization,” he reminded her.

  “Don’t tell that to the Mesopotamians,” she drawled.

  He chuckled and pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “And I never said I don’t believe in Set-Sutekh. To me, he’s just one aspect of the all-encompassing God of creation. His personification might appear primitive to us, but the meaning he carries is just as relevant today as it was when mankind first emerged from the caves.”

  “A message of darkness?”

  “Darkness is the natural state of the universe. Just look above us. All dark, except for an insignificant scattering of burning cosmic dust. Darkness is the glue that binds it all together. To hold it in awe is to pay homage to the mystery of creation.”

  She digested that for a moment. “But...doesn’t it follow, then, that Re-Horakhti, the God of Light and Sun, represents knowledge and the rise of consciousness?” she persisted. “Why not choose the god of reason and enlightenment?”

  “You’ve met Haru-Re, right?” he asked drily.

  She half smiled. “He’s just the priest, not the god.”

  Rhys sighed. “I suppose.” He thought for a moment. “I guess I was drawn to the darkness because of my dissolute lifestyle. Back then, I was a rake and a hellion, and thrived in the nightlife that supported my less-than-gentlemanly tendencies. But I’ve come to realize that darkness itself has nothing to do with wickedness. Wickedness resides solely in the man who exploits it.”

  She quietly digested that, too, then asked, “Then why the two gods? What is the true difference between darkness and light?”

  “There is none,” he said. “It’s what men make of them that counts. It doesn’t matter which aspect we serve. In the end, mankind needs both the darkness and the light to survive.”

  They watched the unfolding of the sky for several long minutes, content in their closeness, two matched souls in the vast solitude of the desert night.

  “So...” she said at length, drawing her finger lightly down his body. “How wicked were you, exactly? Back in the day?”

  He smiled, his body stirring at her touch. “Very wicked.”

  “What kind of sinful things did you do?” she asked.

  “Oh, all sorts of very, very naughty things.”

  “Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me everything.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured, rolling her under him. “I’d much rather show you.”

  Chapter 37

  “She’s gone, my lady. I can’t find Miss Haliday anywhere.”

  Nephtys took the shemat’s news calmly. She hadn’t needed the Eye of Horus to predict this particular development. The girl was headstrong and willful. And head over heels in love. “And Lord Kilpatrick?”

  The shemat shuffled her feet. “Gone, as well. But he frequently visits his home aboveground. His absence may be unconnected.”

  Nephtys sent the acolyte a withering glance. “Perhaps.” But not terribly likely. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.” She waved a hand in dismissal.

  She was sitting at her vanity, touching up her makeup after a much-needed nap. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She pushed out a sigh and met her own eyes in the mirror. Today, she felt truly as old as her years on earth.

  What would she do about these two? They seemed determined to bring down the worst punishment upon themselves. All because of love.

  She made a face. Love. The most treacherous of all emotions. Like a spider, it lured one into its web with sweet temptations, then poisoned one with its sting, devoured one’s body, finally to discard the empty shell of one’s heart without a second thought, moving on to its next hapless victim.

  She’d be doing the lovers a favor if she urged her brother simply to put them out of their wretched misery.

  Unbidden, thoughts of the man who still held her heart captive whispered through her body, raising goose bumps of long-banked passion. What would it feel like to have a man love her so much he was willing to risk all for a moment in her arms? To face death for a brush of her lips?

  She shivered with longing. Bringing to mind the taste of her lover’s kiss, the weight of his body, the thrust of his hard flesh as he took her.

  She let her head fall back as it had when he’d held her and kissed her and told her he’d never let her go. Her hand moved from the vanity to her knee, then trailed upward, seeking the moist warmth between her thighs. She touched herself, letting a soft sound of frustrated need slip past her lips.

  “Haru-Re,” she whispered. My love.

  And suddenly, she was with him, her strong, princely lover, under him, clinging to the golden spindles of his bed as he sipped blood from her neck and slowly slayed her body with his awesome powers, robbing her of every thought but of pleasing him.

  “I have missed you, my only heart,” he murmured in her ear as his fangs grazed her lips, leaving thin trails of her own blood behind. Shivers of pleasure spilled over her, hot and intense. “Come back to me,” he whispered. “I need you. I want you here by my side.”

  His cock plunged deep into her, filling her, possessing her, until she screamed in exquisite pleasure. Yes, oh, yes!

  His hands found her breasts, his mouth following close behind. He tongued her nipples, then sucked deeply, one then the other, then back again. With each draw, she felt the prick of his fangs in her soft flesh, and with every pierce a climax swept through her, each more powerful than the last. His tongue lapped at the beads of blood, and it was like aftershocks of the earthquake that was his sensual power.

  “Come back,” he whispered. “Come to Petru and I promise you pleasures such as you have never felt, power such as you have never possessed. Come back to me.”

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, my love.”

  His cock expanded within her like a ghostly, ethereal presence, taking over her body, filling every inch of her flesh and blood with its chimerical manifestation. She released her will to him, as she had always done, and he took her over completely, making love to every cell of her being, rocking her universe, sending her to another plane of pleasure. It felt as though their very souls were joined as one. And when she came for him, it was like the sun breaking at dawn, filling her body with the electric life force of the cosmos, coming alive and transcending into pure, unending pleasure.

  She didn’t know when she’d lost consciousness, nor when she’d returned to herself and started to stir. Her breath still came fast and furious, her pulse pounding through her as if the armies of the pharaoh were chasing her.

  “Sweet Isis,” she murmured, squeezing her eyes even tighter in consternation.

  What had happened to her? This had not been a simple fantasy of self-pleasure.

  A vision?

  She had never before experienced one of such intensity. Or so disturbi
ng. What could it mean?

  But no. If it was a vision, it must have been a false prophecy. She would never give her betrayer a promise like that. A promise to a demigod was binding, on pain of death. And she would never go back to Haru-Re! Never.

  Just a dream. She was exhausted. She must have fallen asleep and had a nightmare.

  She took a deep, cleansing breath. Yes. That’s all it was, thank the merciful goddess! A vivid, upsetting nightmare. And no one could be held to things they did or promises they made in the upside-down twilight world of sleep.

  She opened her eyes in relief.

  And instantly froze in horror.

  “No!” she cried in anguished disbelief.

  For there, glistening on her lips in stark accusation, lay twin tracks of blood trailing a path down her throat to two round, ragged punctures.

  Chapter 38

  Double doors swung open,

  The half-seen inner chambers—

  Out she’ll be soon,

  Furious I followed.

  —Papyrus Harris 500

  With his new certainty of his and Gillian’s love so vividly imprinted on his mind and body, Rhys found the strength he needed to do what he knew he must. It wouldn’t be easy, and he was just as likely to end up headless as with the prize he sought, but the knowledge that she felt as deeply for him as he did for her made the danger worth facing.

  But she wasn’t going to like this next part.

  He didn’t bother taking her back in through the old tomb, but arrived at the Great Western Gate with his hand wrapped firmly around her wrist and the letter to her sisters tucked carefully into the folds of his robes.

  “What are you doing?” she protested, no doubt wondering at the abrupt change in him.

  “Just trust me.”

  “But Rhys—”

  “Follow my lead and we may have a chance.”