Her glance fell away for a moment, and Khepri’s chest tightened. No, no, no. Do not lie here!
“I have given to the poor, provided gold to charities. I deserve a place in Horus’s Fields of Peace.”
Anubis laughed softly. A sound that lifted the fine hairs on the back Khepri’s neck. The gods didn’t like prideful humans. Did the woman think her beauty would sway them?
Anubis lifted his clawed hand and gently clasped the woman’s left breast.
Her breath hitched, her eyelids lowered then lifted, invitation written clearly in her parted lips.
Without warning, Anubis thrust his fist inside her chest, baring his teeth as she screamed. Pulling it out, he flung her heart onto the scale. “How do you think you will fare?”
The woman shook her head, her hands clutching her chest, trying to stem the flow of blood gushing from the wound. “Mercy… Please, show me mercy.”
He dropped the feather. The scales sang, the plates lowering then lifting until the heart sank.
The woman cried out and reached forward, trying to knock her heart from the tray. “Mercy, sire!”
Her tone wasn’t that of a remorseful supplicant—not that remorse would have changed the verdict. Rage hoarsened her voice and stripped away her beauty.
Heavy footsteps plodded from a side door.
Khepri whimpered, as much out of pity for the disagreeable woman’s fate as out of fear of the monster that approached.
Every gruesome creature known to Nile dwellers was encompassed in one horrid body—her upper torso was that of a lion, and from her midriff back, a hippopotamus; her head was that of a crocodile. She approached in full animal form, her gate uneven on long graceful forelegs and squatty, thick hind legs, her mouth gaping to show every long, serrated tooth.
The woman rushed to the end of her chain, trying to head back to the entrance of the hall, but the chain caught her, causing her to pitch forward onto her knees. She rolled onto her back, her gaze never leaving Ammit, as the Devourer of Hearts sniffed at the tray and then tipped it into her mouth, swallowing the still-beating heart whole. With a quick flip of her body, she turned and sauntered slowly toward the woman, stepping onto the woman’s legs, Ammit’s large body so heavy the snap of fracturing bones echoed throughout the hall.
The woman’s screams never relented. But Khepri had enough. She knew Ammit would shred her with her teeth and then pick up her mutilated but still sensate body to take away to the Lake of Fire, where she would be pitched to suffer damnation for an eternity. Khepri buried her face against her protector’s thigh, smearing scalding tears against his warm skin.
“There, there,” came his kindly whisper. “Do not let her see your fear, my dear …”
Khepri’s eyes shot open, and she bolted upright. Her gaze sought out shapes in the darkness, but not until a lamp was lit did she breathe easier. She was back in Justin’s bed.
“That must o’ been some nightmare,” came his soothing murmur.
The moment his hand rubbed up her arm, she turned toward him, climbing over his body, her thighs parting over her hips as she lowered her torso to rest heavily against him.
She couldn’t get close enough, warm enough. She shivered head to foot.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he whispered, his large hands smoothing over her back.
Her heart still stuttered and skittered. She shook her head, remembering the Hall of Two Truths and the awful judgments. Although she could only call to mind the one incident, she’d had the feeling, inside the dream, that she had been there many times before.
She’d been seated on the ground at the feet of her husband, his slave, and yet he’d treated her tenderly … perhaps, for the benefit of anyone who watched? No, she’d sensed his concern, his affection in the fingers that had petted her hair, in the firm admonition there at the end, as he’d warned her about Ammit. Do not let her see your fear.
Why hadn’t she looked at his face?
The body beneath her stirred. Even as she shook, desire unfurled, heating her sex, opening her fingers to trail in the silky hair cloaking his chest.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble.
She shook her head, liking the way his hair tickled her cheek. She turned her head to nuzzle her nose against a small, flat nipple, something he seemed to enjoy, because his cock pulsed against her.
“That’s okay,” he said, his tone deepening, nearly purring. “You’re awake. Thought my dick would petrify it’s been stiff so long.”
She snickered, her tension easing at his crude words. The only time he ever spoke crudely to her was when he was aroused. She appreciated his directness, because she felt the same way, unable to clothe her words in anything other than raw need. “Please. Come inside me,” she whispered, and then teased his nipple with the edges of her teeth.
He rolled them both, coming over her, his weight sinking her into his soft mattress. There was comfort in having his greater weight blanketing her, narrowing her perceptions to focus on him—his hot breath, the crush of his chest against her breasts, the slide of his thick phallus as he repositioned himself between her legs.
Already, she was damp and needful of penetration, for when he stroked deep, she imagined they were one person, one pleasure binding them together.
“I’d tell you not to be afraid,” he whispered, his dark eyes shining, “that I’m right here to keep anything bad away from you, but I won’t lie, Khepri. I don’t know what’s comin’.”
Her eyes filled. “Neither do I. I can’t see the future, and I only know pieces of the past.” She trailed a finger along the edge of his hard jaw. “Still, I’m glad Amun gave you to me.”
When he rose on his arms, she feared he’d move down her body to prepare her, but what she wanted was more immediate. “No, Justin. Please. Now. Come inside.”
His mouth curved. “Guess it’d be impolite to leave a lady waitin’.” Locking with her gaze, he flexed his hips, found her center in a single nudge, and pushed slowly into her. Once he was all the way inside, he paused. “That what you wanted?”
She recognized the teasing quality of his tone and nodded her head. Instead of describing in words what she wanted, she squeezed around him, concentrating hard to begin at the mouth of her vagina, then tensing other muscles as she gave him a caress that caused his breath to expel slowly and his eyelids to dip.
“Dayum, cher.” He lowered himself onto her chest, and then thrust an arm beneath her, cradling her body close. His hand cupped her face, thumb rubbing her lips.
She licked the callused pads, liking his salty flavor. “Give me what I need. And after …” She licked the finger pressed against her lower lip. “I’ll give you what you want.”
His growl made her smile, but he began moving, his hips plunging in powerful swells as he drove into her again and again.
This was what she needed. Pleasure warming her frozen body. A fierce embrace from a very human man. “Justin, Juste.” Only his name. She couldn’t manage to say more. His thickness speared her, crowding into her in lush, wet surges, eased by her body’s own ratcheting excitement.
He leaned down to kiss her, his mouth nibbling until she opened, and then his tongue surged inside, taking her breath along with her thoughts.
Her fingers dug into the ladder of muscle framing his spine and she curved her hips, changing the angle to receive more of his length and to allow his coarse pubic hairs to rake her pleasure knot. Her breaths came in shallow pants. Sweat coated her chest and belly. Friction burned inside her where his cock churned hotly.
He broke the kiss. “Not gonna last much longer.”
She nodded, running her fingers down to the firm curve of his buttocks, urging him closer, deeper, tilting higher, her abdomen trembling with exertion. “Yes.” Her cry was broken. Her head dug into the pillow. She stiffened beneath his body as he pounded harder, stroke after stroke, buffeting her, pushing her up the bed until she had to brace a hand against the wooden headboard.
He raised on his hands and gave her several deep, lunging thrusts before his face screwed up with his orgasm. His expression, the last fierce thrust, sent her hurtling over the edge into an ecstasy she realized she’d only had dull, fleeting glimpses of in the past.
As she returned to herself, she wrapped her legs and arms around Justin, enjoying the gentler rocking of his body against hers.
His face dropped into the curve her neck and he gave a deep, satisfied groan. “How does it keep gettin’ better?”
She smiled, rubbing her cheek against his sweaty shoulder. “It is no mystery. We are both learning what pleases us, together.”
“Were you pleased?” he asked, raising his head, blue eyes searching hers.
“You must ask? Can’t you feel how my heart pounds, how my pleasure gushed?”
He blinked. “Fuck.” He shook his head in disgust.
She intuited immediately what concerned him. “You are worried about the condom.”
“Yes, I’m worried. I’m supposed to take care of you.”
“You did,” she said, primly. “Very well, in fact.”
He sighed. “You might get pregnant.”
“And a child would be … a bad thing?”
“I’m not cut out to be a father, Khepri.”
Until he said it, she hadn’t thought about him as man with a family. The thought that he might not want one made her chest hurt. She stiffened in his arms, letting her arms and legs slide away. “Since I will most likely die fighting the nameless one, I don’t think you should worry about me bearing any children you don’t want.”
His eyebrows lowered and his mouth opened, but he clamped it closed. Slowly, he extricated himself, rolling to his back beside her. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“As you should be. You spoiled something beautiful.”
His hand curled around hers and squeezed. “I’m not used to being with someone I care about,” he said softly.
She turned her head to find him looking right at her.
“I care,” he said softly. “It’s why I’m bein’ a dick.”
Not the most romantic avowal of affection a woman might ask for, but it made her smile. “I care as well. We shouldn’t worry about consequences.”
“You aren’t gonna die,” he said, his voice gruff.
“I might. But if I live, it is not by my will, but by that of the gods. My destiny is not my own. Should I bear a child, it will be because that child was meant to be.”
“You sayin’ it’s a waste of time to worry about condoms?”
“Since I like the feel of you … uncloaked … would I seem very self-serving if I say yes?”
One of Justin’s eyebrows rose, and he let go of her hand, grabbed a lock of her hair, and pulled, forcing her to move—down his body. “You did say I’d get exactly what I wanted—after.”
Feeling light of heart, she let him force her down his body until her mouth hovered over the part of him that required her attention. She wrapped her fingers around his slackened length. “He seems lacking.”
“He only needs a little encouragement.”
Since he’d shown her the previous night just how to please him, she bent and bundled his softened member into her mouth. Already, she noted a new firmness. But with her cheeks bulging she gave him an indignant glare, as though she wasn’t really enjoying the intimate act.
His fingers threaded into her hair, nails digging into her scalp.
His aggression fueled her desire, and she kept her gaze on his tightening face as she pulled back her head, slowly releasing his thickening cock. The pleasure evident in his deepening breaths was her own. With hands and mouth, she gave back to him everything he’d taught her.
Maybe he didn’t know, but he’d given her tenderness, treated her as a woman—something she’d craved inside her heart for so long she’d thought the lack was her penance, the cost she paid for the favor Amun had bestowed.
She only hoped that the gift she’d been given wasn’t meant only as a last solace, a glimpse of what might have been if she had time to explore this relationship. That would be too cruel.
Fingers tugged her hair again, and she released him, allowing him to draw her up his body. Those same fingers smoothed away moisture from beneath her eyes.
“Sorry,” she said, moving up a little more to center herself, then sink down, taking him inside her.
“Nothin’ to be sorry for. Just didn’t expect you to cry over a blow job. Was worried I’d asked too much.”
“It is not you. I wasn’t thinking about you.”
He gave a soft grunt. A sound she was coming to adore. “I feel all better now.”
A smile stretched her mouth. “I am happy, Justin Henry Boucher. That is all.”
“Well, that’s not a little thing.” A wicked eyebrow arched. “Wanna learn how this is done?”
“I think I can figure it out.” She pushed up, letting his length slide from inside her, then slowly dropped until he was once again lodged deep.
“Yeah, you’re a fast learner,” he murmured.
This time she kept her thoughts to herself. She had to learn fast because this might be all she would ever know of passion.
Chapter Twenty-Two
At the slide of soft thigh nudging him in a delicate place, Juste startled awake. His breath hitched, then released in a slow sigh as her knee moved away. She was sleeping. This time, peacefully, her expression lax rather than mobile and tensing as it had earlier when she’d had her nightmare.
From the soft light seeping past the edges of the curtain, he knew dawn had arrived. Another day with Khepri in his arms … but for how much longer? He didn’t like to think about good-byes; they always made him uncomfortable, his stomach knotting with guilt. This time, the thought of saying good-bye made him breathless, his heart thudding with dread … but why would he be afraid to let her go?
Maybe their strange circumstances—the way they’d met, the dangers they’d already faced—were at the core of his anxiety. But he was only fooling himself.
He was afraid of being alone again. Without a person on the planet he could claim as his own. Bobby had been his one and only friend. What was Khepri? His lover, for now. Once they wrapped up this case, would she be anything at all? Would she melt away, like the soul-bird that had shot from her back?
The arm trapped beneath her torso pulled her closer. His nose nuzzled her hair, taking in her fresh, sweet scent. The problem was, he’d like to get used to this closeness. But no wife of a god would stick with a cop. Why should she? Now, being together made some sense. She needed him. But after?
A warm hand cupped his balls, and he pulled back his head to glance into her face.
“Mornin’, sunshine.”
Both of her eyebrows rose. “Which is it: good or bad?”
His mouth twitched. “A good one.”
“I like your shorthand figures of speech.”
He brushed away a tendril of her hair. “Do you even know what shorthand is?”
Her nose scrunched. “Not really. Scribbles? I guess that adjective doesn’t really make sense.”
“It does, but it’s funny how you manage to find the right word even when you don’t understand it.”
A frown furrowed her brow. “I don’t know where these things come from. They are just there, inside my head. I suppose Amun wanted me fluent, so I am.”
Mention of her husband soured his belly. “What’s he like?” he asked, keeping his voice even. “Your husband?”
Her gaze slid away. “I don’t remember. Physically, anyway. I know I was with him in the Duat, but those memories are fleeting. Before that, I simply felt him around me, guiding me. Ephemeral, in spirit-form. Amun was once the king of the gods. Thebes was his city, and my temple across the river was his center of power and worship.”
“Was he cruel or kind? Brimstone and fire, or soft and fluffy?”
Her laughter gusted across his skin. “He is as complex as any man. Bad and good, but for
Amun … the good side is stronger. He champions the poor and those in trouble. He was one of those present at creation, and his element is air. He is the wind, invisible, but always there—sometimes strong and fearsome, sometimes light and playful. He lifts me by my wings and carries me aloft.”
Juste forced his face into a neutral mask although his stomach soured. How the hell could a mortal man compare with that?
She cleared her throat, and a fine line appeared between her dark eyebrows. “I cannot be certain, but I do not think I ever served him as a true wife in the Duat.”
His gaze sharpened as he ran a hand down his face. She didn’t remember sleeping with her own husband? “If you can’t be certain, why do you think that?”
“Because, with you, everything we’ve shared feels … new.”
Which wasn’t any proof at all that she hadn’t slept with her husband. For Juste, everything about Khepri felt like the first time. And that was a rarity. “Do you think I’d care if you’d been with him, like this?”
Her glance rose to lock with his, her solemn, golden eyes unblinking. “I believe it would matter. Yes.”
Juste flexed his arm and pulled her over him. Their bodies aligned. “Sugar, you aren’t my first.”
“I know that.” Her breath caught when he rubbed a thumb over the slight indention beneath a collarbone. “You would not be so self-assured, so wonderfully perfect had you no experience at all.”
“I’m not perfect,” he replied gruffly. Hell, he wouldn’t even say he was that damn good, but since she seemed to think so, he wasn’t about to tell her any different. But he was done talking. Khepri was warm, her pupils dilated with arousal. Because their time together would be fleeting, he wasn’t wasting a minute on regrets or worrying about whether this was right.
Tangling his fingers in the thick hair at her nape, he pulled her down for a kiss—closed-mouthed, because damn, he wanted it perfect and he hadn’t brushed his teeth. And then he moved away, nipping at her delicate jaw, the lobe of her ear, while she squirmed atop him, her taut belly undulating against his morning erection.
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