“Sorry,” Andreas said. “Been busy.”
“I heard about it,” Demitri put in. “But ten years ago.”
Rebecca couldn’t imagine anyone not knowing everything about an exciting find, but she let it go. “Anyway, that’s what the inscription could have been referring to. The forgotten kings rising from the sands might be the mummies. There are plenty of ruins out there. It hasn’t all been explored, because most people want to do the Valley of Kings.”
“You know that,” Demitri said. “Does Nico?”
“Doesn’t matter. If we can find Patricia, then we’ll find Nico.”
“But it’s Nico who has to find her to break the spell,” Andreas reminded her. He traced his fingers down her spine, which had her instantly flushing.
“It may be that only Nico will be able to find her. But nowhere on the wall did it say his friends couldn’t help him along the way. In fact, there was a picture of friends around the winged god, including a leopard.” She looked straight at Demitri. “And a tiger.”
“Are you sure?” Demitri asked in surprise.
“Why not? The ancient Egyptians could know about tigers. The caravan routes went a long way east. Pharaohs had all kinds of exotic animals in their menageries. It was a very cosmopolitan society.”
“I meant, how could the person who made the inscription in the first place have known that we’d all be there to help him?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Rebecca tried to step away from Andreas and his intriguing warmth, but she couldn’t. “I only know what I read and translated.”
“It’s good enough for me,” Demitri said, folding the maps. “Better than sitting around here worrying. I’ll go with you. I can arrange for transportation.” He looked down at his exquisite suit and winced. “I’ll have to find something to wear.”
“That’s settled, then.” Rebecca yawned and rubbed a hand through her tangled hair, but her adrenaline was kicking in. “Let me clean up and change. I wish Bes hadn’t sent me all the way back to New York. I’ll never get over my jet lag at this rate.”
She walked out of the room, feeling Andreas’s gaze on her every step of the way. She hoped as she showered that he’d enter the room and try to join her, but he never did.
PATRICIA got up before she faded too far into the bath. The air was warm enough so she didn’t shiver, but she appreciated the pile of fluffy towels she found on a stand next to the tub.
She couldn’t bring herself to dress in her filthy clothes again, so she kept the towel wrapped around her. She went around the corner again, to find her prison had expanded yet more.
Now a bed stood in the corner, an exotic bed with a canopy of pointed arches and plenty of silk hangings and cushions. Exhausted, Patricia had no compunction about climbing onto the bed and letting the softness take her weary limbs.
She didn’t mean to sleep, but she woke abruptly several hours later to see that she wasn’t alone. A man stood about three feet from the foot of her bed, arms folded over a bare torso.
Patricia kept the covers pulled firmly to her chin and looked back at him. He was tall and muscular and wore nothing but a cloth draped around his waist.
“Who are you?” Patricia asked him. She repeated the phrase in Arabic.
The man regarded her stonily, obviously not understanding her.
“I’ve seen this movie,” she told him. “Don’t even think about ravishing me.”
She wasn’t afraid, because it was all so absurd. The bed with its lush hangings, the fruit, the bath, and the half-naked man were all like something from a 1920s film. She admitted that it was better than huddling alone and afraid in the dark, but this was bizarre.
Music began, the wild, fast Egyptian music played at parties and weddings. The man started to dance in smooth, sensual waves, flowing and undulating with grace.
“I see,” Patricia said. “You’re the entertainment.”
The man went on dancing, ignoring her. He was quite good, his body gleaming with oil in the subdued candlelight. His hips swayed enticingly, his movements strong and sensual.
Patricia watched him for a while before she realized he was not going to stop.
“You know, I’d much rather you told me where the door was,” she said. “If you’re getting paid to do this, I’ll give you a bonus for pointing the way out.”
The man continued to dance like he hadn’t heard her. Patricia knew her Arabic wasn’t good enough to make herself understood, so she lapsed into silence.
His body was like liquid sensuality, but Patricia felt only pain in her heart. It reminded her of how Nico had danced for her in his apartment, how he’d smiled as he’d slid his hands to her waist and swayed with her.
She understood now why he’d resisted staying with her. If his pain had been anything like what she experienced now, she knew why he’d tried to avoid it. Nico had lived through thousands of years of that pain.
“Damn you, Hera,” she said. “You have so much power, and you waste it punishing a man who only wants to love.” Patricia knelt upright in the bed, still clutching the blankets. “Do you hear me? I think you’re nothing but a mean bitch. You punish others for your own hurting. So many people are starving or helpless in this world, and you obsess on petty vengeance.”
She fell silent, half expecting the amenities to vanish and the walls to fall on her. But the music went on, and the oiled man kept dancing.
Patricia sank down to the pillows again. She wanted to get out of the bed, but the dancing man kept staring at her, and her dirty clothes were on the other side of the room.
Almost as soon as she had the thought, a silk robe appeared at the foot of the bed, along with what looked like a belly dancing costume.
Ignoring the sequined bra and gauzy skirt, she pulled on the robe and belted it before dropping the towel. The dancer ignored her, still undulating to the music like he was on automatic.
A mindless drone, she thought. Like the Dyons.
Patricia climbed out of bed and moved back into the alcove where the bath was, the area now containing benches strewn with cushions.
But as much as Patricia paced, she found no door or window, not even a ventilation shaft that communicated with the outside world.
She clenched her fists and let out a scream. It rang to the ceiling but was drowned out by the wild music.
The dancer whirled on, oblivious of her frustration. She watched him sway his hips and swirl around, arms and hands working, then she sat down on the cushioned bench and cried.
“IT was here,” Ahmed said. “I think.”
They stood on a dune at the end of the jeep road, staring out across the empty desert.
It was beautiful. Waves of sand flowed under the blue sky, a contrast of color and light. Behind them was the rocky desert, the oasis swallowed in the mist on the horizon.
“Sandstorm is coming,” Ahmed said, sniffing the air. His brother Faisal nodded. “We can’t start now.”
Nico conceded. He could survive even the worst sandstorm, or he could easily fly away from it, but his human companions could not.
They took shelter in a rocky outcropping below the dunes, and Nico helped the brothers unroll the cloth top over the jeep. It wouldn’t be much shelter, but would help keep out the brunt of the storm.
When it hit, the visibility disappeared within seconds. Nico huddled in the jeep with the brothers, who started swapping stories about other sandstorms they’d weathered. Nico sat silently and thought about Patricia.
He swore he’d heard her call out to him, in a voice ringing across the sands, but when he’d sat up, he’d realized that Ahmed and Faisal had heard nothing. He wanted her so much, so longed to hear her tell him that she loved him, that her voice had cut through his dreams.
He remembered the naughty look in her eyes as she’d fantasized out loud in the car on the way to Cornell. She’d described how she’d open his jeans and fondle him, then suck his cock into her mouth.
He remembered all the times s
he’d really done it. Patricia seemed especially fond of his cock, loving to simply hold it and gaze at it. She liked licking it and nibbling on it, and seeing how much of it she could take into her mouth.
Patricia had a skilled, wicked mouth. She’d always smiled at him afterward, pleased with herself.
He’d give anything to have her with him now, locked alone with him in this sandstorm. She’d look at him with her sexy eyes and whisper to him how much she wanted to pleasure him. Him, the slave that was supposed to be devoted to her pleasure.
She’d never tried to take advantage of his bondage to her, never tried to humiliate him. Everything she’d done or asked him to do had been loving, sweet, beautiful.
The sandstorm lasted several hours, and by the time it lessened, the sun was sinking. Ahmed and Faisal got out of the jeep, brushed away the worst of the sand, and started setting up a camp.
Nico helped them, then left to begin to explore the dunes.
REBECCA worried about getting to the oases quickly, until Demitri told her he had a private plane. They’d fly out to Dakhla and be there in a few hours.
Andreas hadn’t spoken much to her at all. She’d cleaned up and dressed without seeing him, fuming that he hadn’t tried to get into the shower with her.
In the plane, she had a seat to herself, with Demitri across from her and Andreas behind her. She pretended to ignore Andreas and talked to Demitri instead.
“So, you’re a demigod, too?” she asked him.
He nodded. “My father was Apollo, my mother a magic woman from the Indus Valley. She could take the form of a tiger, and she taught me to as well.”
“And you’ve been friends with Nico and Andreas since . . . ?”
“Since forever, as people like to say now. We met as young men. When Hera trapped the two of them with her curse, I wasn’t there. I decided to stick around and help them as I could.”
Rebecca saw guilt in his eyes that he’d been elsewhere when Hera had taken her vengeance. He’d stayed not only because he wanted to help his friends but to atone for escaping.
Andreas didn’t contribute to the conversation, and when Rebecca looked behind her, he seemed to be asleep. She set her jaw and looked out of the window in silence.
They landed first at Bahariyya but found no evidence that Nico had come this way. Demitri insisted they continue to Farafra and then Dakhla. It was getting late by then, so they opted to stay in a small hotel and continue their search the next day.
Rebecca found it strange to walk on cool, green grass under palm trees when, not far away, the stark desert spread across thousands of miles. This was a beautiful place, an island in the desert, but it frightened her that Patricia might be lost somewhere in the endless sands.
Demitri discovered quickly that Nico had been there. The villagers here knew everyone, and everyone had heard the story of Ahmed shooting a godlike man out of the sky. They scoffed at the story but agreed that Ahmed’s family had found a man in the desert and driven off west with him.
Demitri went to hire a car and guide, while Rebecca pored over a local map in her hotel bedroom, trying to decide which way they should go.
She heard Andreas enter and stand right behind her. He smelled of sweat and the diesel of the car that had brought them here, and his own male musk.
“Why did you come back?” he asked abruptly.
She kept her gaze on the map, pretending his nearness didn’t unnerve her. “To help Patricia. It was ridiculous for me to stay home when I knew what the inscription on the wall said and maybe how to help her.”
“No other reason?”
Rebecca turned around, suppressing a shiver as she looked up at his tall, powerful body.
“Do you want me to tell you I came back for you? After you fled the scene in the tomb?”
His blue eyes darkened. “I had to. I knew Hera would never let me go. She’d trick Bes into giving me back to her if I stayed. I went back to Olympus to talk to the other gods.”
Rebecca had never thought in her life she’d be with a man who so casually mentioned that he talked to the gods of the Greek pantheon. “And what did you talk about?”
“I got a promise made that if Nico and I were free, we’d be free for always. And that Hera couldn’t take her revenge on you. You are not to be hurt.”
“That was nice of you.”
Andreas growled, his leopardlike temper returning. “It wasn’t nice. It was necessary.”
“I meant it was kind of you to make sure I’d be all right.”
“Damn it.” Andreas grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her tight to him. “I’m not kind. I don’t do things to be kind. I wanted you to be all right so when I saw you again, I could have you back. I want you to be all right because—I want you to be.”
Why did he always take her breath away? No man had ever wanted her like Andreas wanted her. It was a heady feeling, and frightening, too, because she didn’t want it ever to stop.
“You’re not under the curse anymore,” she said, trying to hold her voice steady.
“No kidding.” Andreas put his thumbs under her jaw and turned her face up to his. “I don’t care about the damn curse. I just want to find out what it will be like with you without it.”
Her heart hammered. “You mean like an experiment?”
“I don’t care what you call it. I want you to be safe, but I want to be with you. It’s driving me crazy. Why didn’t you stay in New York?”
“I already told you why.”
“How are you supposed to stay safe if you don’t do what I tell you?”
She started to laugh. This tall, strong male had come to her in her little room at the B and B and made her take off her bra and give it to him. Then he’d pleasured her in a shower in London to wash away her fear of the Dyons. Her heart began to thump as she thought that maybe they’d finally consummate their relationship in this exotic oasis in Egypt.
She reached up to kiss him, intending a brief, tempting kiss, but he pulled her into it and took her mouth in hunger.
He always bowled her over with his extreme masculinity. Walking in to see him sticking his tongue into Demitri’s mouth had only stoked the fires. Andreas was everything that was masculine and dominant and wild and exciting.
“Make love to me,” she whispered. She’d gotten to the point where she wasn’t above a little shameless begging.
He drew back with a hot smile, reverting to the Andreas she knew.
“How do you want me to do it? On your back, me on my back, me behind you? I can think of many exotic ways.”
Rebecca’s pulse sped. “However you want it.”
He slid his arms around her and gently bit her ear. “Don’t tempt me like that. I have a demigod’s power, unrestrained now. The things I could make you do . . .”
“I mean that I can’t decide.”
“Hmm.” Andreas stepped back, his ice blue gaze sweeping her body. “Why don’t you let me call the shots, then?”
Her cleft was warm, aching, while her imagination spun. “That would be good.”
“Strip.”
The abrupt command made her blink, but in another second, Rebecca started tearing off her clothes.
Andreas pointed at the bed. “Lie down.”
Rebecca breathlessly climbed onto the bed and bounced onto her back. When she looked up, Andreas was naked, his lovely body glistening with sweat. His hard face and cool eyes made a contrast to his thick cock lifting for her in wanting.
“Spread for me, baby,” he said softly.
Rebecca spread her legs, bending her knees and sliding her feet to her hips. “Like this?”
“You’re beautiful.” Andreas climbed on the bed and positioned himself between her thighs, his body heavy and warm. “You’re so beautiful.”
His lips found hers. He playfully nipped them, but she sensed most of his playfulness had fled. He was all business now, all man, and he wanted her.
“Have me,” she whispered. She lifted her hips, her puss
y full and hot for him.
She felt his fingers swirl over her and dip into her moisture. “You’re a sweetheart to be so wet for me.”
“I’ve been wanting you for a long time. Ever since you came in my room and told me to take off my bra.”
“You wanted me before that.” His eyes sparkled. “You wanted me when I was licking your breasts.”
“I thought that was a dream.”
“Nope. It was real.” He drew his hot tongue around her nipple. “You tasted good.”
“You were a leopard.”
“And you were a sweet thing. I wanted to bury myself between your legs and lick your pussy clean.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t want to scare you.”
His words made the pool of heat inside her boil over. “Fuck me,” she begged. “Please, Andreas. I’m dying for you.”
“You look pretty healthy.” He smiled, slow and sensual. “But all right.”
He took her lips in a hard kiss at the same time he lifted slightly and pushed inside her. He was a tight fit, and he spread her and stretched her until she gasped.
“I can’t take all of you.”
“Yes, you can, sweetheart.” His eyes were half closed, his voice ragged. “You’re so beautiful, Becky.”
She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his back. He pushed inside, farther, farther. He would tear her apart.
Andreas groaned. His eyes closed; his mottled white and black hair fell across his flushed face. “Damn,” he breathed.
He started to ride her. They moved together, body to body, her hands on his back, his mouth opening hers in heated, bruising kisses.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Oh, gods, Andreas, I love you.”
“Love you, too, Becky,” he said hoarsely. “You sweet, sweet woman.”
She lay back, beginning to come under him, but he rocked into her for a long time. By the time he finished, she was laughing, sore, bruised, and happy.
Even if after they found Patricia, Andreas decided to disappear to his demigod world, or wherever he went, Rebecca would have this. She’d always remember.
They emerged from the bedroom hours later, dressed again, as Demitri returned to tell them he’d arranged for a car and driver to take them out into the sands.
Mortal Temptations Page 23
