She shrugged the shoulder pointed toward the ceiling. “This look Jason used to get sometimes.” Her fingers worked a thread on the blanket. “You know, when he made love to me.”
But he hadn’t thought anything like that. And yet, he had, lying there alone in his bed, listening to her little whimpers in the dark.
“I didn’t…” He stopped, knowing it was a flat out lie. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t understand it himself. The last time he’d felt like this had been with Tessa. And then she’d left him and in the worst way possible.
“Like you said,” Kendra told him quietly. “A hundred years is a long time. It’s probably just that. The time.”
Or not. But what were the chances that it’d been fated that he leave the monastery when he had? He touched the crucifix around his neck.
“That’s it,” she said. “The look on your face.”
“Please, try and sleep,” he said, turning away, unable to bring himself to tell her she was wrong. Not because he couldn’t lie. Hell, even his name was a lie. It wasn’t that specifically, but because he’d never been able to lie to a woman he had feelings for.
Sha’re had seen to that. She’d created him to be her god, and you didn’t lie to your goddess.
***
983 B.C.E. Firm hands held him back, one kilted palace guard on each arm. Re’Hotep strained against them, only to find the point of a knife under his nose as a third guard stopped him in his tracks.
“You’re the farmer. The one with the beautiful mother.”
“Let me go,” Re’Hotep said. “I’ve done nothing.”
“Nothing? Nothing yet you mean.” The guard’s weathered eyes scrutinized him.
Being a peasant, he wore only his linen kilt and leather sandals. The eyes stopped, narrowing in on his one and only adornment. A small gold ring in his ear that had belonged to his father. The guard smiled. Then a dusty hand reached up and tore it from his ear. Blood, warm even under the noon sun dripped onto his shoulder.
“Don’t need that now, do we?” the guard said while the others laughed. He sheathed his knife so he could put the ring in his own ear.
That was the only possession he had left of his father. But it was inconsequential, because he had something of his father’s that was more important than a gold ring.
The knife came back out. It flashed under the bright sun as the guard angled it purposefully, threatening him, uselessly since he was still held immobile by the other two guards.
“What’s the woman’s name you’re after? Amina? Aseria?”
“Aziza,” supplied one of the guards. The one on his right. He had a scar down the side of his face.
“Hard to believe she could be this ugly whelp’s mother.” He looked Re’Hotep over once more. “How’d your father get on her? I’m guessing she didn’t enjoy it very much.”
He held his temper in check. They only would have beaten him for it anyway.
“Well, if Amon doesn’t have her, I will.”
He strained now against the guards, managed to loosen his left arm. He was right handed, but that didn’t stop him from breaking the man’s nose.
Re’Hotep felt it shatter under the impact. Blood rolled down the guard’s face. He roared in anger, wiping it away. All three came down on Re’Hotep, tackling him to the ground. They were all as heavy as him if not as tall. He tasted dust as his face was shoved into the ground. Metal studs in their belts bit into his bare back. Between the weight and the sand in his nose and mouth he couldn’t breathe. He felt consciousness slipping away, grasped harder for it.
“Let her go,” he managed.
They yanked him suddenly back to his feet. He was unsteady, nearly fell as his head whirred in the distorted line of consciousness. Black tunneled his vision.
“What did you say, whelp?” The guard with the broken nose got in his face.
“I said, let her go.”
He heard another scream. The guard looked over his shoulder, smiling, his teeth red from his bloody nose. “Too late, I think.”
“Osiris will judge you for this.”
A fist in his gut bent his knees, the other guards laughing as they let go of him. He collapsed to the ground.
“Send him to his mother when the men are through with her. Maybe she’ll suckle him back to health.”
Their laughter faded as they left him in the sand.
“Alessandro?”
He felt the hands on him. Tasted the dust, parched and gritty in his mouth, the sun burning down. His ear was still dripping blood, now into the sand, soaking into the dry earth in dark splotches of deep crimson against brown. He heard the screams, but he couldn’t get to her. They wouldn’t let him. They beat him, and this time he couldn’t stop the darkness from reaching up to take him.
A muffled grunt, followed by a short, feminine squeak woke him. His gaze focused weakly as he pulled struggling free from his nightmare. Eyes drew in on pale skin, pink-cheeked, golden hair framing face and down shoulders. A golden woman? A woman made of spun gold? By the gods, where had she come from?
It took him a baffled moment to come back to the present. Alessandro realized he had Kendra backed against the wall.
“Habibti?” He reached out, to make sure she was real, and that he was where he thought he was. His fingers trailed over her cheek, down her neck, felt the scabs from his fangs there, her breath catching when he touched them. Yes, real. He was real. She was real.
She pushed on his chest. “Can’t breathe,” she said.
He eased off her but didn’t back entirely away, his hand still on her neck as if to hold him there grounded in reality, her soft hair between his fingertips, spun gold of a spider’s web.
“I could have killed you,” he said.
“You were having some kind of nightmare. What was I supposed to do, just leave you?”
“Ignore me.”
“Not likely. You would have brought the whole house down with your yelling.”
“I was not.”
She eyed him. Well, perhaps he had.
“What did I say?” he asked.
“I don’t speak Arabic.”
He paused, remembering only a little now as it began to fade away. “Egyptian.”
“About your life? I mean, your mortal life.”
“Yes.”
Her skin was very soft. She smelled so good. Fertile. It mocked him, because the ability to produce a child in the natural way had been stolen from him long ago. The desire remained, in the part of him that was still a man. The part that wanted to leave some of himself behind. It was why vampires turned others into beasts, to fill the void left by the curse. It was why he’d changed Theron.
Alessandro could still taste her, from the remnants lingering in his body, binding him to her. In a few days that would fade. He didn’t want it to. Suddenly, it seemed vital that he hold onto her, to keep his reality, to keep himself from plunging headfirst into the darkness. His fingers worked over the hollow of her throat, softly because she was so fragile. He felt her pulse under his fingertips. It raced when he touched her.
And he was doing nothing to compel her.
Nothing. No mind control. He wasn’t trying to seduce her with his scent. She was reacting to him of her own free will, even if she didn’t quite understand that yet.
She squirmed against the wall, her hip brushing his leg. “Did you want to talk about it?”
“My life?”
“Or whatever.”
He checked the clock on the table between the beds. 4:30 pm. They still had an hour until dusk. “Are you hungry?”
“It can wait a bit. If you want to talk first.”
If he wanted... He stood there over her, fingers still on her skin, her hip against his leg, him hard and needing her—wondering why she would care—unwilling to back away because he wasn’t sure he could handle the emptiness he’d feel the moment they were no longer touching, not daring to move closer. He could resist her blood, at least for another day, bu
t her body was another matter entirely.
She reached up like some curious, vulnerable bird, touching his hair as if she’d never been this close to a man before.
“I was just wondering,” she whispered.
“What?” he said hoarsely.
“What it felt like. If it felt like human hair.” She lowered her hand, rested it on his arm.
He looked at her hand on him. “I appear human. Unless I’m thirsty, then my body temperature drops. Tomorrow it will begin, and you will know I’m not like you.”
“I knew about that part. I just hadn’t expected you to be so human.”
“The man remains,” he said, with more feeling than he’d intended. Yes, habibti, the man remains.
Her breath caught, held for a moment, then returned, this time heavily. “Do you remember all of it?” she said between panted breaths, as if trying to find some normalcy between them through conversation. “Your human life?”
“Some things won’t leave me, as much I wish they would. Memories that play over in my head.”
“That’s awful.”
She meant it. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. She seemed unable to fake anything. “You feel for the monster? Is that allowed?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought it was, before.”
“Then why now?”
“I told you. I hadn’t expected you to be, well, a man.”
He smiled at that, at the way she’d said it as if it were some mysterious revelation. His hand, seemingly under a compulsion outside of his control, slid from the hollow of her throat to her sternum, then over her heart. He felt, listened to the blood rushing through it, swallowed convulsively.
But that was the monster’s need.
He looked at his hand on her chest, then upward, to her face, to the breath coming harder now from between her lips.
“I’m trying,” she said, “to control it, but I don’t think I can.”
“Right now, I don’t even want you to.”
He planted his other hand next to her face on the wall. The one over her heart slid upward, back to her throat, avoiding the marks from his fangs knowing the sensation would be too intense right now and far too new for her.
Alessandro cupped her cheek in his hand instead, tipping her chin up. Slowly. She would not be pleased with him if he took any advantage whatsoever.
And suddenly he really wanted to please this woman of Ra.
His nose brushed hers. She was trembling, but didn’t stop him. He moved his other hand from the wall, caught up one of hers, and brought it to the back of his neck. Her fingers worked through his hair, pressed into his skin, pulled his mouth toward hers.
“I won’t kiss you,” she said.
Then she came up on her toes, pressing herself eagerly against his chest. Kendra groaned as his lips sought hers. Alessandro tilted her head, parted her warm mouth with his tongue, and kissed her deeply, Kendra kissing him back like she was half starved and he was her food source.
Alessandro slipped his hand under her satin top, upward, over the ridge of her spine, curling fingers around one soft white shoulder.
“Oh,” she moaned against his mouth. “I shouldn’t.”
“I won’t hurt you, I swear.” He lifted her, suspended off the floor, bringing her face to him. He kissed her jaw, her throat, Kendra gasping, arching back in invitation.
“Just let me bed you,” he breathed.
“I can’t. Please, don’t ask me.”
“I am asking. Me. No games. No control. I want you.”
“You’re doing this to me.”
“This is you, making me want you.”
Her hair was surrounding him in a fair metallic curtain now, like a pharos’ crown, only he had never been near one until after Sha’re had made him her god. Damn, he wanted this woman more than he had anyone in a very long time.
“It’s just you,” she said.
He settled her body neatly against him. “You doubt it? That you could make me need you?”
“Not you.”
“What? Am I a monster unable to love?”
“No, anything but that.” She struggled over words. “You’re too beautiful is what.”
“You need a mirror.” He smiled, feeling more than lust for her, and relishing the emotion. “Or maybe I will have to show you how much I want you.”
“It’s that look,” she whispered. “If you didn’t do that, I’d be able to resist you.”
“A look? That’s what wins you over?”
She wiggled in his arms, probably embarrassed.
“Don’t leave. Tell me.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
Not yet, perhaps. Yes, he could sense it in her; the moment was fading, but not forgotten. Fortunately, he was a very patient man and could glory in anticipation as well as the having. He smiled to himself again. He would have her. It was only a matter of time.
“Very well.” He scooped her up into his arms, then turned and sat with her on his bed.
“Let me go.”
He held her easily. “Not yet.” Alessandro settled her with her cheek on his shoulder. He ran his fingers through her hair. “Just stay with me. Neither of us is doing well alone.”
She stiffened, backing out of his arms. This time he let her because her mood had changed. Kendra glared at him. “I do fine alone. Just fine.”
She was protesting rather vehemently, which meant he was right.
“When did your man die?” he asked.
She looked at her bare foot, shifted her toes nervously. “A little over a month ago.”
So short a time. He was a fool. “I’m sorry, habibti. You are still in mourning.”
He watched her swallow and thought it had been done too audibly.
“Have you had anything to drink?”
She nodded. “There was a bottle of water in the mini fridge.”
“Maybe you better eat now.”
She shook her head at him, eyes narrowing. “First you want to screw me, then hold me, now you’re worried I might need to eat?”
His American language skills were still developing, but he thought he understood her correctly. “I wouldn’t screw you. It would not be like that.”
She continued to glare at him. “You’re still a predator. I don’t care what you want to call it.”
He sighed, sitting up, Kendra backing away in response. He pretended that didn’t bother him, but it did. A lot more than was reasonable.
“If I can’t take care of your most pressing physical needs, then I might as well see to others,” he said.
“That is not my most pressing need.”
“It was when you were in my arms.”
“Jerk.”
“I might as well see to other needs since you’re not ready to share my bed,” he continued.
“Don’t hold your breath on that one.”
He reached out to touch her but she backed away again. This time he didn’t let her put her defenses up against him. He followed, Kendra backing against the wall. Her breath heaved again in response to him.
“You’re wrong, habibti.”
“Whatever.”
He was really beginning to hate that word, especially the way she said it, with stubborn pride.
“You’re a woman of Ra.”
“What’s that?”
“Gold, like the sun. You are a woman of the sun.”
Her mouth opened, then she closed it and frowned.
“Ra was our god. One of many, but our most prized deity.”
Her gaze flicked to the crucifix, then back to his face again. Her eyes questioned him.
He wasn’t sure what to say because he hadn’t solidified in his own head yet. “It’s the blood. I feel a kindship.”
“To Christ?”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
Alessandro took up a lock of her hair, winding it around his finger, gave it a little tug to tease her closer. She gave in, was no longer pressed ag
ainst the wall.
“You are Hathor, the goddess of love.”
“Um… Okay.”
Not a passionate response, but at least she wasn’t angry.
“So, a hundred years is an impressive goal for any vampire,” she said. “Why did you break it, then? Was it because you sucked the venom out of my hand?”
“That would be the easy answer, that I had tasted you and couldn’t control my lust.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “So what’s the hard one?”
“I think you already know.”
She looked at his bed, back to his face. “Oh,” she sounded. “I’ve told you not to kiss me, twice.”
“You kissed me. Twice.”
“You kissed me.”
He backed off, rubbed a hand over his face, laughing.
“What?”
“We’re really going to argue about that again? Who kissed whom?”
“I don’t go around sleeping with random men.”
“I would not be random. I would be very pleasing for you.”
She looked ready to protest then stopped, her face changing; she was soft now. “You miss your mate,” she said.
“I could say the same of you. I lost her a long time ago.”
“Maybe.”
Kendra had been through too much in so short a time, and he still hadn’t the decency to feed her. Alessandro turned and found a light switch and flipped it on. She blinked as he rummaged around, getting out a menu for the hotel restaurant. He handed it to her, Kendra taking it like food was the last thing on her mind. “Feed yourself, please, habibti.”
He unzipped his bag and pulled out clothes. “Dark soon. I’m taking a shower. Then I’ll see about finding you something to wear.”
“You’re leaving me?” she squeaked, holding the menu in one hand, her hair tumbled, more now from his hands than her restless sleep—at least he liked to think that was the case.
“Just for a few minutes.” He brushed her hair back, hesitating a moment before bending in to kiss her cheek, knowing how easy it would be to kiss her fully, which would in turn lead to her kissing him just as fully, and then another round of who kissed whom. “You’ll be fine,” he told her, wisely stepping away.
“Do vampires take showers?”
“We don’t have to, since my scent doesn’t stagnate, but we can want to.”
Entangled Page 5
