Crescent Moon

by Delilah Devlin

  However, urgency ruled him. He didn’t want to concede control while she experimented. Instead, he rolled, tucking her beneath him, his hands guiding her thighs over his hips, then cupping her sweet, round ass as he burrowed himself between her legs, seeking entrance.

  The first wet contact made him groan, and he thrust upward, relishing the hitch in her breath and the scrape of her fingernails on his back. He couldn’t get deep enough, fast enough, but she didn’t seem to mind, her body angling to let him slide deeper still. When he was all up inside her warmth, his knees digging into the mattress as he prepared to let loose, he growled and scraped his stubble against her shoulder. “Never felt this way before, Khepri. Hope you know that.”

  So, his declaration was tepid, but even giving her those few words wasn’t something he’d ever done.

  “I’ve never felt this way either, Justin.” Her hands cupped his face and lifted it.

  When his gaze met her eyes, he found shining acceptance. His throat tightened.

  Her plump lips smiled. “For as long as this lasts, I am yours.”

  His heart broke just a little. An inward twinge pulled inside his chest. And he realized he wanted so much more. For this feeling to last and last. “I’ll take everything you want to give,” he said, his voice so thick the words burned his throat.

  Her arms fell open reaching outward, her breasts flared against his chest. An act of pure surrender.

  Humbled by her trust, he wished he was a stronger man, that he could pull away and cherish her body with his mouth and fingers the way she deserved, but he was too far gone. He clutched her soft ass harder and began to move, gritting his teeth to to keep the depth of his thrusts reined in until he was sure she could take more.

  That sentiment lasted a full five strokes. Eyes closed, she bit her lower lip and moaned, and he was lost, powering into her, rocking the bed with the strength of his surges. Above her, inside her, he felt connected, whole—the past washed clean, forgiven—all because something so exquisite had been given into his care.

  His body tightened, the urgency building so swiftly, he knew he wouldn’t last long, but dammit, he wouldn’t find release before she did. She’d called him perfect. He braced on one arm and slid a hand between them, caressing her breast, trailing down her body, watching the way her gaze blurred, listening to her sighs and moans. He scraped over her bare mound, and slid a finger into the top of her cleft. The first touch caused her back to arch. He gently toggled her little bud while wrestling for control of his thrusts, torn between precision and power. “Now, Khepri, dammit, come now.”

  Her gaze cleared as she raised her head and kissed his mouth.

  He thrust again, and broke the kiss.

  She fell back, clutching handfuls of sheet as she arched. “Yes … oh, Justin.”

  Sweet God, she was beautiful. The first internal riffle of her orgasm convulsed around him. Freed, he thrust twice more then came, blinded by the intensity of the explosion that reverberated through his body. “Sweet … ah, fuck …”

  When he could gather his thoughts again, he lay with his head on her shoulder, her fingers combing through his hair in gentle, scratching strokes.

  “I like this nearly as much as I like the orgasms,” she whispered.

  Juste grunted. He liked the orgasms a thousand times more, but lying with her soft body cushioning his was very, very nice.

  He dragged in a deep breath and reached for his watch on the nightstand. “Shit. That really the time?” He kissed her cheek and rolled away, rising from the bed to pad to his dresser where he grabbed underwear and socks.

  “Are we in a hurry?” she asked from behind him.

  “I am,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “You can sleep if you like.”

  “Am I not needed?” She sat up, pushing her hair behind her ears.

  The sheet slipped down, exposing her breasts and dragging his gaze right along with it.

  “Do you not want anyone else to observe me and see whether they know me?”

  Juste blew out a breath, before forcing his gaze up to her face. “They aren’t gonna know you, are they?”

  “Only if they came from the Land of the Dead.”

  He nodded. Crazy as that sounded, he took her statement for gospel. “Can I trust you to sit tight here?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “Where would I go?”

  “Huh. My experience, someone answers a question like that with another question, they don’t plan on behavin’.”

  “Must I behave?” she asked, a dark eyebrow arching as the corners of her mouth twitched.

  Juste shook his head. “Like I said before,” he muttered. “You’re a fast learner. Almost made me forget what I asked in the first place.”

  “I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep. I am on a quest.”

  “Best thing to do is sit tight. Tonight, we’ll go to the gala at the museum. See who’s there and what shakes out.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She rolled to her side and pulled his pillow under her cheek, taking a long sniff before snuggling into it.

  And damn if he wasn’t horny again. He sucked in another deep breath to calm his heart rate.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Dammit.” He stepped into his boxers, then headed to the door. Before he reached it, the chime sounded again. Exasperated, he swung the door wide.

  Mikey stood on the stoop, his glance dropping, then rising to narrow on his face.

  “What are you doin’ here?” Juste shot his gaze across the courtyard.

  “Picking you up since your car’s broke down.”

  “Car’s fine.”

  A broad shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Figured the car was broke down since you’re late.”

  “Only half an hour. I overslept.” His fingers tightened on the doorknob. “Since when’s that a crime?”

  “Since Maines called. Got his panties in a wad over some call he had from the Egyptian embassy. Wants to see us ASAP.”

  The mention of Maines’s name pulled a scowl onto Juste’s face. “I gotta shower.”

  Mikey pointed his chin toward Juste’s bedroom door. “Better share the water, but make it fast. Maines wants her, too. I’ll be in the car.”

  “Does he know she’s with me?”

  Mikey frowned. “No, I said we’d stop by Haddara’s hotel to pick her up on the way.”

  From Mikey’s terse delivery, he knew his partner was pissed. Not that Juste could blame him. He’d known there’d be a reckoning at some point. Maybe that tech guy had shown Maines the video of Juste leading Khepri from the crime scene. Maybe he was suspicious about yesterday’s bombing and her role in it. Juste hurried back to the bedroom, but the bed was empty. Water was running in the bathroom.

  When he stepped into the shower, he eyed her. She was already soaping her hair. Something else he’d taught her. “You hear?”

  “I did. This Maines is someone important?”

  “He can cause problems. I’m more worried about the embassy.” He sluiced water over his head and ran his hands over his chest.

  She passed him the soap. “The sooner we go there, the sooner you can stop scowling.”

  Juste grinned. He hadn’t known it, but he liked a woman who got straight to the point.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Khepri sat in a squeaky chair with wheels under it, waiting outside Lieutenant Maines’ office while Michael and Justin were with him. She wished she were inside rather than sitting here, hearing indistinct, muffled shouts. Whatever was being said wasn’t good for Justin. He’d barely spoken.

  Bored, she pushed her feet against the shiny floor, setting her chair spinning slowly. Around one way, then back the other way. On another full turn, the door opened. “Khepri.”

  She paused and pushed off the chair, swaying slightly until the room settled.

  Justin shook his head, but she saw one side of his mouth twitch.

  Good. He needed to smile. The tension evident in his shoulders
frightened her. His hand waved her inside, and she was careful not to brush against him or give away any sign of their intimacy, because she knew he wouldn’t want this man to guess that they’d grown close.

  Juste cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Maines, this is Khepri.”

  “Don’t she have a last name?”

  His snide tone rankled. “I am Khepri … Amun,” she said, giving the stocky man a tight smile.

  He leaned back in his chair, his gaze sliding over her. “Well, Miss Amun, seems you’re a bit of a mystery.”

  Not knowing how to respond to that, she kept her face still, her gaze unblinking. “Do you have a question for me?”

  His face reddened and he sat forward. “I want you to tell me everything you know about Mr. Youssef Haddara. He’s a friend of yours.”

  “And this ‘everything’ you want to know serves a purpose?”

  “I’m the one askin’ questions.”

  “You haven’t asked one yet,” she bit out, narrowing her eyes.

  His head tilted. “I can see why Boucher’s sweet on you.”

  Behind her, Justin drew in a quick, sharp breath.

  She lifted her chin, and her mouth tightened. “I don’t understand you. He is not honey to be poured over me.”

  His small, piggy eyes got smaller as his cheeks grew redder. “I think you understand me just fine, Miss. We have robbery, a murder, and now, it looks like someone smuggled mummies into this country, filled with who knows what. Where’s Mr. Haddara?”

  She blinked, surprised by the turn of the conversation and wondering if she’d heard right. He was looking for Mr. Haddara? “Smuggling is a bad thing?”

  Maines gaze moved beyond her. “Chrissakes, she really that stupid?”

  Justin stepped around her. “That’ll be enough.”

  Maines pushed up from his chair. “You listen here, detective. This investigation is a fuckin’ mess. Soon as the sheik hits the ground at Lakefront airport, I’m havin’ a word with him about Haddara. Some woman from the Egyptian council for antiquities is gunnin’ for the bastard. Since you couldn’t seem to notice that the mummies that went missing were stolen, you’re gonna be off the case, and off the fuckin’ force.”

  Justin stood as still as a statue, only a tic beside his eye giving away his agitation.

  Anger at the man who shouted at Justin as though he was better than him boiled inside her. She glanced again at Maines, at his red cheeks, at the collar that was too tight for his fat neck …

  “Time I’m through with you,” he said, stabbing his finger at Justin, “you won’t be able to find a job as a rent-a-cop at a shopping—” The odious man’s eyes widened. His face turned purple. His hands went to his collar, and he scratched at it franticly.

  Justin and Michael leaped forward.

  “He’s choking,” Michael said.

  Justin unfolded a knife he pulled from his pocket and slipped his fingers beneath Lieutenant Maine’s collar to lift it just enough to slide the sharp edge underneath and cut his collar.

  Khepri guessed she should have been ashamed at what she’d done, but she felt too much satisfaction at listening to the awful man gulp for air. Now he was beholden to Justin. Perhaps he’s treat him better.

  Justin glanced up from where he knelt and aimed a scowl her way.

  She pressed her lips together and shrugged. How had he guessed she was responsible?

  As the two men helped Lieutenant Maines back into his chair behind his desk, she forced her face into a sympathetic mask.

  Maines gulped air again. “Get over to the museum,” he said, his voice hoarse. “If he shows, I want your eyes on Haddara. He doesn’t move without trippin’ over you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Michael murmured and then went straight to the door, opening it for her and waiting until Justin passed before closing it again. “Holy fuck,” he whispered as they strode quickly away. “Man, I’m glad he didn’t bite it, or this time you’d have been up on charges for sure.”

  Justin aimed another glare her way.

  She lifted her shoulders. “He’s not dead. Just … winded.”

  His fingers slid around her wrist like a manacle, and he took long strides that forced her to skip beside him to keep pace. They skimmed through the hall, down the stairs, and out onto the street. Only they weren’t walking toward the car.

  “Want me to follow?” Michael called behind them.

  Justin lifted his hand to wave, but didn’t glance back. He kept walking, his strides lengthening until she was running beside him.

  “You are angry,” she said, breathless now. Not from exertion, but because his anger was frightening—and oddly arousing.

  He walked past the edge of the building, and then another, then jerked her to the left as he stepped into an alley. There, he pushed her up against the brick wall, his fingers biting into her waist. His face was red, his eyebrows an ominous, furrowed line.

  She swallowed to wet her dry mouth. “I didn’t like the way he talked to you,” she said, forcing strength into her voice when she wanted to whimper.

  His nostrils flared around a deep inhalation. “Anyone rings his neck it’s me.”

  “You’re only angry because I nearly took away the pleasure you would have derived from doing it yourself.”

  He looked toward the sun before staring down at her again. “Fuckin’ hell, Khepri. You can’t go around killin’ people who upset you.”

  “I wasn’t going to kill him. I just wanted him to be quiet.” She sniffed and raised her chin. “I didn’t mean to do it. It just … happened.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a menace.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to mistrust m—”

  His mouth covered hers, silencing the rest of what she’d wanted to say, that Maines was odious, that Justin was a far better man.

  She’d expected a hard, angry kiss, but the moment he silenced her, his lips softened, moving in circles that teased her into following his motions. The already steamy air grew heavier—so did her breasts—and she leaned into him to relieve the ache.

  His hand clamped the back of her head, and he tugged it back.

  Glancing up, she noted the redness was gone from his cheeks, but now he wore a lambent expression, one that likely mirrored hers. “I suppose we should warn Mr. Haddara,” she said, staring at his mouth.

  “Tonight’s not soon enough,” he whispered.

  “To warn him or to kiss me again?”

  “I like the way you think.”

  A loud honk sounded, and they both turned their heads to find Michael in his vehicle, giving them both a baleful glare.

  She couldn’t help it, she grinned. Being caught in such a circumstance had been unthinkable in her old role. Here, her heart felt light. Her passions lay near the surface, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.

  Justin moved away and snagged her hand, then pulled her behind him again as he approached the car.

  Once he’d seated her in the back and slid into the front beside Michael, she settled back with a small smile curving her mouth.

  Michael glanced at her in the mirror stuck to the center of the front window of the car. “Was that you back there?” he asked.

  Justin’s partner was quick to accept her magic. She shot Justin a look, but he was staring out his window. The decision was hers how much she shared. “I have some powers. More than I was aware of before my … rebirth. I could always light a candle with my fingertips, but what happened today, that was a first.”

  “That thing with the baggie at the dress shop.”

  “I acted on instinct. I was as surprised as they were that it worked.”

  “You some kind of witch?”

  She drew a sharp breath. In her time, witches were evildoers. “No. My magic is a gift for good.”

  “Because you want it to be that way?”

  “I suppose,” she said, unsure now. She’s always assumed her powers came from Amun, but what of the butterflies
she’d lured to play with her when she was a child? That had happened before she’d been chosen to serve as his wife and invested with powers to communicate his will. “Your world has forsaken magic for technology, and yet you accept what I say is true.”

  “Sugar, I believe what I see for myself. You’re the real deal. Now, whether you’re working for the good guys … That I’ll have to wait and see.”

  Again she looked at Justin. His lips were pursed. He didn’t want her to have powers, didn’t want there to be anything special about her or their circumstances, because he wanted to be the one to rush into the danger. Acknowledging her power meant he’d have to accept her role as the warrior who would have to do battle with Pharoah, and possibly the demon he might already have summoned from the Duat.

  Minutes later, they arrived at the museum. Since she’d spent so much time there already, she breathed deep, feeling a sense of welcome. This place had the same quiet reserve as her temple. The same sense of simmering excitement, as though the antiquities it housed were held in reverence. How sad they had to lock their doors at night. How sad no one lived inside these walls to keep the treasures and the spirits surrounding them company.

  She touched Justin’s arm. “I am going to the shrine.”

  His eyebrows lowered, but he gave her a curt nod. “Don’t be long, or I’ll come lookin’ for you.”

  She gave him a smile and walked away as he headed straight for Dr. Dorman’s offices. Turney Hall was empty. Pretty placards written in gold type had been put behind frames on the walls to tell anyone who wandered into the room what they were looking at. She went straight to the naos and knelt.

  This time, she wasn’t gifted with a flight. However, as she sat with her eyes closed, she felt a soft caress against her hair, sliding down to her bare shoulder, then touching her cheek and mouth.

  She gasped, opening her lips and felt pressure from the softest kiss. She opened her eyes, but nothing was there. “Husband,” she whispered, hoping he would answer. “I am here.”

  Remembering being seated at his feet and the reassuring pat of his hand, she bent and touched her head to the floor. “I seek your wisdom, lord of the wind, father of Thebes, husband to this undeserving woman...”