“Why now?” When things were finally going so well for her?
“The recent discovery of Hatshepsut’s remains renewed the vizier’s quest. Many are angry because others have uncovered the truth about the Queen Pharaoh’s reign.”
She’d hate to have people like that against her. Oh wait, she already did. “So the man who attacked me is a descendant of the vizier User?”
His lips tightened. “Not a descendant.”
Realization chilled her. The brilliant flash of light on the exhibit’s opening night had come from the false door as it broke open. The flying creature must have signaled the vizier’s escape.
I knew I hadn’t imagined the flash. The foreign man who appeared at the museum that night, then mysteriously disappeared, hadn’t been from the Antiquities Council. More like an antique himself.
Her head grew lighter. “So he was Hatshepsut’s vizier? User?”
“Yes, goddess. His people arranged for the door to the afterlife to accompany me here. Like me, he has waited long for this day. He will do everything in his power to stop us.”
“His ‘people’? Like a secret society, you mean?”
“If he succeeds, Hatshepsut’s soul will never move on.” The sadness in his soft voice spoke of more than the loyalty of a warrior to a pharaoh. The queen pharaoh had apparently meant something to him on a much more personal level.
“I can’t help you. Don’t you see? There’s been a terrible mistake.” No one in their right mind would entrust such an important task to a klutz like her anyway.
He turned those serious, gorgeous eyes on her. “Did you never wonder why the Egyptian authorities granted your request to borrow the temple artifacts?”
Uh oh. “Yes.” So many times.
“And my… remains. The Excellent One. You had not requested me, either. Yet here I am.”
She gulped. Much as she hated to admit it, all these crazy little things were not coincidence. Put together, they added up—to trouble. “Yes.”
“And why the vizier has followed you night and day?”
Like she needed another reminder? “But why me? And why now, after all this time? Surely there must have been others he could have stalked after Hatshepsut died.”
“The vizier has long sought an opportunity. When you requested the Egyptian artifacts for your museum, the vizier’s followers secreted his tomb door with the shipment. You must have wondered why it, too, arrived unasked.”
“I did.” Her breath failed her, and she could barely respond.
“The door came because the time was right.” His soft voice coaxed her to breathe again.
God, she’d practically opened the tomb door for User and invited him through. “Okay. That’s the ‘why now’ part. But you haven’t answered the ‘why me’ bit.”
“I did earlier. Like your mother and grandmother and all women in your family before you, you are descended from the goddess Bastet. And as such, targeted by the vizier’s men.”
Her spine turned to cold steel. She gripped the wine glass so tightly, she feared it might shatter. “My parents and grandmother died in separate car accidents.”
He pressed his lips into a grim line. “Your aunt moved you from Egypt to America to shield you from User’s assassins.”
She held up a hand. “Stop.” She covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t block his voice, but maybe he’d take the hint and back off a little. Give her time to absorb and sort through this mess, crazy as his explanations sounded.
“Have you not had an affinity for cats throughout your life?”
So much for backing off. She tossed her head back, sending her hair behind her shoulder, which she delicately shrugged. “So I’m an animal lover.” Most people were. That didn’t elevate their status to deity level.
“Have you not noticed the changes within yourself?” he asked more forcefully.
Had she made him angry? “Changes?” How did he know?
He narrowed his eyes. “An aversion to water, perhaps? An urge to dance to music, even such horrible music, painful to the ears such as assaulted my ears in the club?”
“Oh no.” This was too insane to be real, and too accurate not to be true.
“Or,” he went on, “enhanced sight in the dark, when before you could not see?”
She shook her head slowly. “None of this is possible.”
“I speak the truth, goddess. The strength of Bastet flows through you because you are she for whom we have waited. The time of your destiny has come.”
His words from that night returned: It has begun. Now she understood. Her senses had sharpened to those of a feline, and her muscles, too. Her mind subconsciously acknowledged it when she embraced her given name of Sanura. Kitten. Maybe she should remind him of its meaning, and that kittens made terrible warriors. What did they expect her to do, disarm the enemy with her cuteness? Good luck with that.
“Look, mister…”
His hands curled into fists against his knees. “Iker. You called me by name that first night. Do you not recall?”
The night she’d passed out in her office. In his arms. More than recalling it, she relived the scene in dreams. With certain embellishments.
In her dreams, she was a goddess. Not Sandy Whitaker, geek girl whose awkward movements were in direct contrast to any cat’s. “If what you say is true, we’re all in deep trouble.” She’d said it aloud, but aimed the words more at herself than him.
He eased nearer and took her hands in his. “No, goddess. Our troubles are about to end because of you.”
How warm and soft his hands were. She wanted to wrap herself in his embrace, forget all this craziness. Too bad he believed every word of it.
She hated to burst his bubble, so forced a wan smile. Oh yes, their troubles would end, all right. Not in the way he wanted.
****
Iker sat beside Sanura, careful not to interrupt her apparent absorption of information. A mix of emotions swirled through him, and restraining his every movement required vigilance. He must not alarm her any further. “Goddess—”
“Stop.” Her cat-green eyes pierced his. “Please, don’t call me that again.”
“Apologies, g—” At her glare, he corrected himself. “Sanura.” Did women of this time shy away from titles of respect?
Her surprise at his knowledge of her family must mean they had hidden the information from her. The vizier’s men had attempted to prevent Sanura’s birth when the family lived in Egypt. Failing that, they’d later killed her parents, and eventually, her grandmother. The aunt had wisely chosen to secretly move her to another country.
The way Sanura reacted to his earlier suggestions likewise confirmed his suspicion that she must be experiencing her new powers. Bastet was well renowned for her protective and healing gifts, her love of music and dancing. And her incredible sexuality. Did Sanura know this side of the goddess? Her body seemed to unconsciously embrace it. She oozed sensuality. As if attuned to her, his body responded in kind. Perhaps the spells Bastet had cast upon him had made it so, to sharpen his senses and keep his attention focused on her. So keenly attuned, it had become a problem. He could focus on little else.
She slipped her hands from his. “It’s late. You should go.”
As he’d foreseen; she still resisted. “I must protect you. I will stay here.”
“No, you can’t.” She visibly constrained her outburst. “I only have one bedroom, and you’re too big to fit on the sofa.”
“In that case, the floor will suit me fine. No harm must befall you.” He wouldn’t acknowledge that her new strengths empowered her; she had yet to master them.
“Right, or I won’t be able to save the queen’s soul.” Her mouth twisted in distaste.
Now he had upset her. Why? His only goal remained the liberation of the queen pharaoh’s spirit, but if anything happened to Sanura… “Now that the vizier knows you will recognize him, he will almost certainly employ assassins. And not men. He will send merciless, soull
ess killers from the deepest underbelly of the Underworld.”
She whimpered, a helpless sound of a kitten, and he repressed the urge to take her in his arms. Her name suited her—her soft, vulnerable exterior invited cuddling, though he wouldn’t dare. She may not yet acknowledge the full truth, but beneath the kitten exterior lurked a warrior, a lioness and a goddess. He would help her embrace her destiny.
She set her glass on the table and rose. “Fine. I’ll get you a pillow.” She padded to the bedroom and returned with a pillow and a blanket. “I hope you don’t mind cats. I have seven.” The last sounded like an apology.
“Only seven?” He’d expected every feline in the city to flock to her.
She dropped the blanket and pillow on his lap. “Are you making fun of me? Because I—”
“No, of course not. You are related to Bastet, goddess of cats. I am surprised more haven’t found you.” Beneath his fingers, the blanket’s fuzzy nap registered; he’d never felt anything so soft. He lifted it to his cheek. “By the gods, what is this made of?”
“I don’t know. Cotton and polyester?” She waved a finger at it. “Read the label.”
He located a small white tag bearing a strange inscription. What society prosecuted a person for removing a label? “Not even the queen pharaoh’s bed had such wondrous covers.”
Her gaze hardened. “Oh, so you slept in the queen’s bed?”
Cobra venom couldn’t have stung more. “I…” How could he explain? He could not have refused. “No, I never slept there.” He’d always left as soon as possible afterward.
A gape ended with her mouth snapping shut, then her expression grew cold. “Never mind.” She stomped away. “Guess I don’t need to wish you pleasant dreams.”
He braced for the inevitable order to accompany her to her bedchamber. Instead, she entered and slammed the door.
The darkened room vibrated with the purring of cats. For several long moments, he waited for the summons to her chamber.
None came.
An unexpected end to the night. Sleep would not come unless he knew for certain she would not interrupt it. He called, “Sanura?”
Rustling sounded, footsteps padded. She poked her head out of her door, clutching a robe tight to her neck. Not a sign of seduction, nor her earlier expression of irritation but one of hopefulness.
Something prickled his heart to life. “Thank you.”
She nodded, and reached for the door knob.
“Tomorrow,” he added, “we must begin.”
Sadness filled her face, but she blinked it away and said nothing, and closed the door once again.
So, he could rest undisturbed. He should be grateful. Relieved.
He was neither.
He rose, yanked off the jeans and shirt, stretched onto the sofa and drew the blanket up to his waist. Its softness against his skin only further frustrated him. The pillow cradled his head like a cloud, but sleep eluded him. He stared at the ceiling, shrouded in darkness. The perfect blank canvas for his thoughts.
He’d always admired a woman’s spirit before beauty, and Hatshepsut had both. Her fierce determination and ingenuity had restored Egypt under her reign. She deserved the final rite given every pharaoh. He would ensure she would take her place among them in the afterlife. His final task for her.
Waiting for the right time for the ritual had proved torturous. A man of action, he’d already spent millennium in a state of inertia. He was eager to forge ahead, but couldn’t force Sanura. Her confusion was well founded. He must remain patient, but prod her as needed.
Like the queen pharaoh, Sanura embodied every quality he treasured—beauty, intelligence, fearless courage, determination, a pure soul and expansive heart. Had she lived in his time, she might have made a fine leader, possibly even pharaoh, with extensive training. Oh yes, a lifetime of training for which he’d gladly volunteer.
A summons to her bed would be a much different experience than with Hatshepsut, he imagined. With Sanura, he could take his time, give his desire free rein. Loyalty had demanded he perform the queen’s requests, but as much as he admired her as his country’s ruler, the satisfaction was merely physical, and short-lived.
In another time, under other circumstances, he would seek out someone to share his life. A woman of integrity and intelligence. A woman like Sanura.
So deeply was he daydreaming about it that when she stepped beside the sofa, he thought he was still dreaming. The light from somewhere outside the window cast a soft glow across her face. But no, she was not Sanura. Not with such bold lust in her expression, as if she wanted to devour him.
He leaned up on his elbows. “Goddess?” Why had she come? He was about to ask if something had gone wrong when she unfastened her robe and let it fall to the floor. So exquisite, she stole his breath. He could not find his voice, not even when she tossed away the cover, lay her hands on his shoulders, pushed him back to the cushions and straddled him.
Her dark hair fell about her shoulders and curtained her face as she bent to press her lips to his. A light touch at first, a whisper of a caress that tantalized him, yet he dared not move. The goddess had never shown such an interest in him before.
She eased upward and trailed her fingers across his ribs and down his stomach. A thrill shivered through him, but fear pinned him down, motionless. He hardened, thickness straining against skin so he thought he might explode. Her touch feathered along his length, and he dug his fingers into the cushions.
“Iker.” A whispered moan, a plea that reached inside him, melted his bones within tightened muscles.
Breaths pumped his chest. “Yes.” He was hers to do with as she pleased.
Tilting back, she teased forward, taking him in. Warm, wet velvet consumed him. At the first thrust of her hips, he sat up with a roar and locked his arms around her.
“Sanura.” How could he have mistaken her? He wanted to cry her name to the gods.
Her lips met his, tongues dancing as their bodies entwined in a mesmerizing rhythm. Her breaths became his, his heartbeats pulsed through her. He answered her moans for more by giving of himself, and the more he gave, the more he wanted. With each kiss and caress, he silently wished her to know the dizzying heights of passion she’d gifted to him.
She clung to him as one drowning. So as not to hurt her, he reigned in his desire.
“More.” She clasped his head. “I want everything you have. Give it to me now.”
Not a command, but a plea. He would not refuse her. “Everything I am is yours.” He twisted her beneath him, arm at the small of her back to secure her against his punishing thrusts. When she twined her legs around him and rocked her hips, he unleashed the full of his passion on her, thinking to empty himself, but the more he gave her, the more he had. An endless well of desire, inscribing her name in its depths.
Locked in the infinite dance of bliss, he lost himself in her. And found himself there as well.
“Iker.” She clutched tighter.
The tremors beneath his touch electrified his body, wave after wave imprisoned him and then freed him in a flood that washed the thoughts from his mind, the cares from his soul. He wanted to remain in that sweet prison, and held her long afterward. With each stroke of her skin, he memorized every curve of her body, the impossible silkenness of her skin. His own body betrayed his wish to remain awake, and his mind drifted into the star-filled skies.
Chapter Eight
Unbelievably stupid. Sanura had never been one to act on impulse, yet tonight, as she’d lain in her bed, darkness had magnified the smallest sounds. Each noise had struck fear into Sanura’s heart. A branch tapping the window. A night bird’s call. Was the vizier out there, plotting her capture? Or worse?
At a scratch at the bedroom door, she’d clutched the covers higher. “Iker?” she’d whispered.
A muffled meow answered. Cleopatra touched a paw to the jamb.
She plopped back onto the pillow. “Oh, don’t tell me, Cleo. I locked Mark Antony on the
other side.” True to their name sakes, the two were inseparable. She’d never get any sleep if she didn’t let him in.
On tiptoe, she crept to the door and eased it open. Mark Antony slipped in and touched noses with Cleo.
Cute. Sanura had wished someone needed her so badly he couldn’t sleep without her. She’d peeked out into the living room. The only visible part of the warrior had been a bare foot propped against the top of the sofa.
That was enough, apparently. All that was required for her to lose her mind was the sight of his shoeless foot. She needed to see more, and found herself stepping out of her room and into her dream, She stood beside him, admiring his gorgeous body. Wanting him.
When he’d called her goddess again, a haze of lust clouded her mind, beckoned her to live out her dream and command him to worship her. Oh yeah, he had. But no dream ever felt that amazing.
After deep, even breaths signaled he’d fallen asleep, she untangled herself from his embrace and stood over him for one long look. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, but he didn’t rouse. Lucky him. She wouldn’t get a wink tonight. Not with him in her home.
Or the vizier and his assassins outside. At least with Iker in her condo, she felt a little safer, but what if User broke in through the bedroom window? Instead of doing the horizontal mambo, she should have asked Iker more questions. If the vizier returned from the past, he must have special powers too.
She crawled into bed and lay staring at the ceiling. She’d always loved her tall bedroom windows because they let in an abundance of sunshine. Now she worried they’d let in a killer.
Tomorrow, she had to convince them all that she was a lowly museum curator, nothing more.
Hours passed like days. A few times, she’d dozed off, but jarred awake at the slightest noise. For some reason, Mrs. Allgood kept appearing in her mind. Taunting her. “Are you certain you’ve never heard of The Royal Daughter of Amun Society?”
Gah, what did the old bat mean anyway? Curiosity taunted her more than the old woman, so Sanura grabbed her laptop. After booting up, she Googled the society name.
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