by Jean Murray
“Watch your tone, Commander.”
The temperature around the Underworld god plummeted, reinforcing the back the hell off message. True, Bomani pushed the limits of his station, but gods be damn if he would allow this to happen. His tone was downright disrespectful, but the hell with it.
“You saw what he did to Ari, and the others. I saw the blood hunger in his eyes. He will kill her!”
“No, he will not.”
“How can you be so certain?”
Asar clenched his fists, but remained silent.
Lilly’s voice rose up in the room and drew both men’s gazes. Rightly so, she was trying to dissuade Kendra from staying. Good for her. He at least had some reinforcement.
His Sire took a step toward the women. Bomani planted his hand on Asar’s chest. “What happened in that cell? What did he do to her?”
Asar glared at the hand that restrained him and the air around Bomani vibrated. “Remove your hand, warrior or less you lose it.”
Bomani knew he crossed the line. Crossed it by a mile. He might be the Commander of the Legion and sired by the blood of his Underworld god, but that didn’t give him the right to touch Asar or address him as an equal. He removed his hand and forced himself to bow. “Please forgive me. I only want to ensure the small one’s safety.”
Asar’s hard eyes narrowed in on him. “Do not think I take her life lightly. I have vowed with my soul to keep them safe, but I have also vowed to see this war to its end.” The Underworld god’s face softened slightly. He grabbed Bomani’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I know you and your brother had your differences, but he needs us. He needs Kendra to pull him out of the darkness.”
Bomani raked an agitated hand over his scalp and glanced over at the sleeping god. Brother. Yeah, in a manner of speaking. They had the same blood running through their veins. The same father, but that is where the similarity ended. They could not be more different. Born of the same father, but conceived by different means. One by water, fire and blood, fighting for his life the moment he was born in the warrior camp. The other by egg and sperm, spoiled in this plush palace.
He honestly did not wish any ill will against Bakari. No one should endure the torture he had gone through, despite the sins against his own father. Asar did not know the half of it. As far as their father was concerned Bakari had been the perfect son, innocently seduced by the goddess Kepi.
Innocent? My ass. He had kept his mouth shut all these years, never wanting to hurt Asar. And based on the amount of pain he saw in his father’s eyes, he would most likely remain silent.
Bomani bowed with the respect he felt in his heart for the father who had always been good to him. “As you wish.” He never addressed him as father. Besides Bakari, Kamen was the only other person who knew that Asar had born him differently than the other warriors.
Asar had disclosed to him the news of his bloodline on the day of his commissioning as Commander of the Legion. Asar had wanted Bomani to rise to the top of his own accord. Gain the respect of the legion on the misery and strength forged during his training. Respect could not be earned on blood alone, Asar had said to him. True enough. Bomani had risen among all others to command a force with the power to level a nation.
Much to his surprise, his sire grasped him in a tight embrace. Never had Asar displayed affection toward Bomani in all these many years. The most was a tight grasp of the shoulder or slap on the back. Current events no doubt had affected the god deeply. “I cannot stand to lose either of you.” Asar broke the contact and walked away without another word.
“May I stay?” Bomani asked, still stunned.
Asar nodded and then proceeded to intercept his wife.
Bomani positioned himself on the opposite side of the bed so that Kendra was in his line of sight. Those wide brown eyes connected and held his stare. He felt his chest warm and his skin tingle, as he examined those deep dreamy pools. It receded the moment she broke her gaze and looked at his brother lying under the sheets.
Uneasiness settled into the bottom of his gut. Bakari lay between him and Kendra. Physically and metaphorically. A barrier between him and what he wanted. A surprising revelation.
Blood-bond or not, he wanted Kendra for his own.
Chapter Eighteen
Bitterness crashed in waves around him. Bakari had a choice to make— remain entranced or wake up to a living hell. Either way, he did at least one good deed. His butterfly was saved. Not enough to save his soul, but it gave him some satisfaction. He wondered if this was some trickery from the goddess. Had she found a new way of preventing him from taking his own life?
Kepi had fed him her black fetid blood in those first minutes of his capture. Funny how in his awakening, he did not taste the sour decay, but instead the haunting sweetness of his butterfly. The small amount of blood Kendra had used to awaken him had overridden Kepi’s. Thank the gods. But, there was that nagging hunger again for sweet nectar, the cure for purging the rest of Kepi’s foul scent from his body.
The haunting desire to purge himself forced him to push the darkness away and open his eyes. He fully expected to be in four point metal restraints against a stone alter. That is how the goddess liked him. Exposed and at her mercy. He had to blink several times to appreciate what he was seeing and feeling for that matter. Softness, instead of the hard biting stone. Freedom to move his limbs. And, a large engraved scorpion.
He had truly gone mad to wake in his former quarters in Aaru. Home. He struggled to lift his skeleton up off the mattress. The shadow of the flames danced across the expanse of the room and reflected against the blades that hung on the wall. Everything was how he had left it five years ago. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Five years.
Still disoriented, he surveyed his room. Every weapon hung from their assigned pegs, as if no time passed at all. For a moment he hoped it was a protracted nightmare, but the tarnish to the metal beguiled his wish. The discolor resulted from years of lack of use and proper care. In a fruitless attempt at denial, he searched for some other hopeful sign it was not true.
He turned to find the chaise that was normally pushed against the wall had been moved close to the bed. A large bundle of blankets lay across the center. He squinted, not sure he could believe what he was seeing.
A young girl with auburn hair curled amongst the blankets. Despite the shock of reality, relief swept over him.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and strangely found them covered in black linen pants. He had not been clothed since the day he was kidnapped. The fabric irritated his macerated skin. He took several uneven steps toward the woman. He needed to touch her, make sure she was not a figment of his imagination.
He knelt next to the chaise and reached out to brush his fingertips against the cheek of his sleeping beauty. He fully expected her to evaporate before his eyes. He inhaled sharply when he contacted the soft round protrusion of her cheekbone. He followed the sharp line to the edge of hair, her ear and then jaw. “Parvana.”
Kendra stirred ever so slightly and then leaned into his hand. A soft hum left her lips. Her eyes flicked back and forth under her closed lids. Bakari closed his eyes a moment and then reopened them. She remained, as did his room around them. This was no dream.
His fingertips traced the smooth line of her neck. Her slow regular pulse teased the pads of his fingers. He closed his eyes again and reveled in the warmth and life that beat under his touch. His throat burned with thirst, but not as bad as it had been in the cell. The frenzy to feed had lessened. How that was possible, he could not comprehend. Instead he took a deep breath and inhaled her scent into his body. With it warmth spread through his chest.
He opened his heavy lids. The most delectable brown eyes stared back at him with wariness. She had every reason to fear him, considering how he had acted. He was still stunned to find himself here. “You are real,” he said still disbelieving the permanence of her.
She cleared her throat and smiled. “Yes, very rea
l.”
He continued to stroke her neck with his thumb. Surprisingly, she did not pull away from his touch. A strange moment of intimacy between strangers. He really did not know her but her name. How he had ever gotten home, let alone how a human could have awoken him was still a mystery.
“I am home?”
“In Aaru,” she confirmed.
A sudden pain hit him in his heart. He grasped his chest and leaned against the chaise for support. He could not hold the sob that came forth from his throat. Funny that being home would cause him so much pain. Kendra sat up pulled his head into her lap. Her fingers tracked the line of his face on one side, same as she had done in the cell. His pain slowly dissipated under her touch.
With the pain lessened his other senses came to life. The scent of her permeated his brain. Something in his mind snapped and a sudden darkness filtered into his thoughts.
Hunger. Depravity. Domination.
A dark shadow moved in to the right of them. Before he could counter a large hand grabbed his arm and ripped him away from Kendra.
“Hello, brother.”
Too weak to fight the incoming fist, Bakari braced himself for the impact. Four hard knuckles contacted his jaw with a crack and splitting pain.
“That is for Ari and the others. And this…” Bakari’s head recoiled with the second powerful blow. “is for Kendra.”
Bakari stumbled and hit his back and head into the stone wall. His world tilted and he fell hard to the floor.
Kendra lurched off the chaise and put herself between him and… Bomani?
“What are you doing? Have you gone mad?” she yelled and knelt next to him. Blood dripped freely into his mouth from his nose, which felt like it was broken. She bunched the sleeve of her sweatshirt cuff and pressed it to his face. Another enormous figure moved in and shoved Bomani toward the door. Kamen?
“What the hell are you thinking?”
“He was going to hurt her. I saw it in his eyes.”
Bomani tussled with Kamen but it did not last long. There was not a warrior that could match his uncle’s strength. All the familiar voices echoed through Bakari’s head. His father’s soon came in tune.
“Back to your quarters, I will deal with you later,” Asar growled at Bomani. His father’s distinctive features came into focus. He approached cautiously. His stance, guarded.
“Bakari?”
Bakari looked at Kendra for reassurance. She nodded and smiled. He looked to the group that had gathered a safe distance away. Kamen, Inpu, Asar. Even Nebt, the Underworld goddess and counselor to Asar. They looked the same as the day he had last seen them. Two human females stood by the door barricaded by the row of Underworld gods standing before him.
By the love of Isis, he was home. “Father.”
Relief passed over Asar’s features and he came quickly forward. “Come,” Asar coaxed and lifted him up to his feet.
Inpu approached in his flowing black robe and reached out to grasp Kendra’s arm. A sudden possessive growl escaped Bakari’s lungs. With his teeth bared, Bakari pulled Kendra behind him. She was his, damn it. Inpu pulled back and raised his hands. “Easy. I am helping her up. She is very weak.”
Bakari’s brain swirled. Still unstable, his emotional grid shifted without warning. His father still held his arm to support his weight. One thing was constant and that was Kendra. This auburn headed human grounded him somehow, making sense of reality. He had no intention of letting her go. She had been taken from him before. He pulled her into his side and stared down at her. Dark circles under her eyes stood out against her pale skin. Her freckles, almost imperceptible. Her once shiny hair now appeared dull and flat, the curls unwound and interlaced with white. Why had he not noticed before? An abrupt concern for her wellbeing refocused his control. He cleared his throat trying to present some semblance of civility.
“Sorry. I…” He looked up into the faces in the room. It gnawed at him to see pity written on all their expressions. “Sorry.” It was the only word he could muster at this moment. He loosened his grip on Kendra and forced himself away from her. His father guided him to the bed. Bakari locked eyes on Kendra, despising that Inpu touched her. The priest set her on the chaise and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.
Bakari sniffed and wiped the blood from his nose. The pain should be killing him, but it rarely fazed him anymore. It was a mere hangnail compared to what the goddess inflicted upon him for her own sick pleasure.
Asar handed him a wet towel. Bakari pressed it to his mouth, nose, and chin where his blood ran red. He imagined it black and tainted, as he scrutinized it on the towel. He smelled death in his nose which caused waves of nausea. Sweat broke out over his body and beaded on his upper lip. He lurched up and staggered to the bathroom. The eyes of the room followed him.
Finding the marble sink he retched and spewed black oily liquid from his throat. The foul serum coated the sides of the basin. His repulsion forced his stomach to clench into a hard knot.
Bakari shuddered with each violent contraction. His body repelled the fetid evil inside of him forcing it out his mouth and nose until nothing came. He fell to his knees and lay his head in his hands. In reality no one could help him. The goddess’ blood lived inside him, churning putrid wickedness. He could feel it moving underneath his skin. He stared at the sink fully expecting the blood he vomited to crawl over the sink’s edge and try to get back into his body.
Asar laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Despite his father’s attempt to comfort him, Bakari recoiled. “Do not touch me,” he hissed. “Get out.”
“Everyone.”
Chapter Nineteen
Kendra stood up with every intention of following Bakari, but Inpu stepped in her way. His long brown hair cascaded over his black robe, reminding her of a wizard. “Better to give him time, little one.”
Barkari’s voice drew her attention to the bathroom. Everyone? Did that include her? Her answer came with the look in Asar’s severe eyes.
“Everyone out,” Asar barked. His hardened gaze came to rest on Kendra a moment and then he returned to the bathroom. More retching and moaning sounded from the other room. Overcome with the compulsion to care for him, her feet refused to budge toward the door. The words, save him, repeated over and over in her head, like a skipping record.
Kit wrapped a warm arm around her shoulder. “Com’on. We’ll get you cleaned up in the meantime.” Surprisingly, her sister had an understanding look in her eye, as if she somehow understood her reluctance to leave. Maybe it was the same feeling that drove Kit to watch out for her day in and day out. The need to protect something. But then again, she and Kit were family. Kendra had no connection to Bakari other than the long hours in his cell.
The scorpion on her chest attested otherwise. She brushed over his mark that lay hidden under her thick sweatshirt. What happened to her in that cell? To her knowledge there was only one way to be marked by a god. A shiver ran down her spine. Could it have happened without her knowledge or consent? Her body felt as it always did, but so much had happened, maybe she missed it? Unlikely. There was only one person who would know, and she had every intention of asking him the minute she got him alone.
For now she would hide the mark until she had evidence to support another alternative, especially after Bomani reacted the way he did. Bakari didn’t need another black mark against him. Three dead warriors. Half the life sucked out of her.
Did he have the potential to do more? The question gnawed at her insides. Kepi had made it much too easy to seize the sarcophagus. But then again, Bakari was out and now it was a whole new ball game. He had been with her for five years. Enough time to brainwash someone.
Kit guided Kendra to her room. Steam scented with honeysuckle greeted them when they entered her quarters. The servant had drawn a bath for her. Kendra mustered her strength to walk the last twenty feet to the edge of the tub.
There was the trouble of removing her clothing. Way too much effort. She actually considered s
ubmerging with clothing and all. Plus, how could she hide Bakari’s mark from her sister who stood less than five feet away.
Kit leaned on the stone’s arched doorway and crossed her leg over the other with the tip of her boot planted on the ground. Kendra struggled to find a plausible excuse for her to leave.
“So are you going to tell them?”
“Tell who what?”
Kit crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. She followed it with a tap of her finger above her heart.
Kendra’s heart skipped a beat. So much for keeping a secret. If she had been thinking straight, she would have realized Kit had seen her naked in the cell. How many more noticed the mark? “Does Kamen know?”
Kit pushed up off the wall, walked over to the vanity and sat down. “I’m not sure. He didn’t say anything.” Her sister frowned. “But then again, he barely says shit.” She shrugged and then leaned on her elbows. “So what happened in the dungeon?”
Kendra’s tailbone found the oh-so-hard floor with her ungraceful attempt to sit down. “Everything blacked out. I don’t know how long I was out, but it was there when I woke up.” Although her logical side said it was improbable, it still didn’t stop her stomach from doing flip flops. “You don’t think he could have…” She couldn’t even bring herself to finish the last few words.
Kit sat forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “You’re not bleeding, are you?”
Kendra shook her head.
“Trust me. Based on how that guy is hung there is no way you wouldn’t be, especially since it would be your first time.”
Kendra rubbed her forehead. Kit’s reassurances actually loosened the knots in her belly, but it still left a big gap. How had he marked her? “Are you going to tell Lilly?”
“Not me. That’s on you when you’re ready.”
“Never.”
Kit laughed. “Well, I would recommend sooner versus later. I hate to see how Bomani’s going to take this.”
Kendra tilted her head. “He’s been intense.”
