Vampire Sheikh

by Nina Bruhns

  “You were right,” Nephtys told her. It had been Gillian who’d unknowingly presented her with exactly the information she’d needed to set her plan in motion. “Josslyn was at the Winter Palace Hotel, just as you guessed.”

  She thought it best not to mention the fact that Ray had also been there. Thank the goddess Nephtys had shown up when she did, or Josslyn Haliday would now be living a nightmare, and Nephtys would be faced with the untenable choice between her growing friendship with Gillian and her fury at the bastard for having it off with another woman when he’d promised himself to her.

  Nephtys didn’t give a damn about his accursed carnal needs. She only hoped that after sending Josslyn to her brother, Seth had more control over himself when it came to such things than Nephtys’s own betrothed.

  “So you found Joss?” Gillian asked, elated. She looked excitedly around the garden, as if expecting her sister to be sitting here, too. “Where is she? You brought her here to Petru, right?”

  “Not exactly.” Nephtys patted the granite edge of the pool beside her. “Sit.”

  “What?” Gillian sank down on the stone rim, looking crushed. “Why not? Surely, she didn’t refuse to come? Not when—”

  She glanced over at an older couple sitting on a bench on the other side of the garden.

  Oh, dear. This was not going to be easy. “Gillian…”

  The young woman turned back to her and comprehension suddenly dawned. Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, no. Nephtys, please, God, don’t tell me you sent her to Khepesh!” Gillian jumped up, a stark portrait of accusation.

  Nephtys grabbed her hand and pulled her down again. “Kitet, little sister, you know better than anyone about the vision I was sent of the future. Seth needs—”

  Gillian put her hands over her eyes. “Seth!” She lifted them to reveal a pained expression. “Seth-Aziz is a freaking demigod! He can have any woman he wants! I’m the one who needs her. Josslyn should be here, in Petru, with me and our parents!”

  This time they both looked across the garden’s splash of brightly flowering plants to the older couple. The man was holding the woman’s hand, patting it, speaking softly to her. The woman was staring vacantly at the horizon, seemingly unaware of the man beside her.

  “We’re her family. Not Seth!”

  Nephtys’s heart went out to Isobelle Haliday, and especially to Trevor Haliday, for what they were going through. But she also knew her brother needed Josslyn far more than they did, regardless of what Gillian thought. What was the happiness of one small family against the fates of so many? If Nephtys’s vision was correct, Josslyn could be the key to saving Khepesh. How could she take the chance of not allowing it every opportunity to be fulfilled?

  In addition to serving Nephtys’s purposes.

  “I understand how you feel,” Nephtys said. “But you know what she will suffer if she comes here.” She folded her hands in her lap to keep them from balling into fists. “Haru-Re also knows about my vision. There’s little doubt he would take out his antipathy for Seth by ruining Josslyn.”

  Despite a vain attempt to deflect it, pain razored through her at the thought. Selfishly, not for Josslyn’s sake, but for her own. Because she would then be forced to watch Ray’s dalliance with another woman. Until he tired of toying with her, and Josslyn ended up in the same pathetic state as Nephtys herself. Vamp-addicted, alone, and abandoned.

  Men were such cruel brutes.

  At least this one.

  Gillian bit her lip, frowning. “He wouldn’t do that. Not after he’s chosen you to be his consort. That would be—”

  “Despicable?” Nephtys’s attempt to keep the cynicism out of her voice failed. “Obviously you don’t know him as I do.”

  “Then why the hell do you love him?” Gillian asked in exasperation.

  The woman was so incredibly naïve. “Who says I do?”

  Gillian made a wry face. “Don’t even try. I can see it in your eyes, whenever you look at him.” She glanced over at Trevor and Isobelle Haliday, where the love on her father’s face shone like the sun that was rising behind him. Nephtys sighed. Sweet Isis. Was she equally transparent?

  “You’re wrong. I don’t love him,” she said firmly, “I hate him.” But her statement lacked conviction even to her own ears. “I do, however, love my brother, and I know you love your sister. Therefore, I don’t want anything bad to happen to either of them. That’s why I sent her to Khepesh. I hope you’ll forgive me one day.” She took Gillian’s hand. “And at least she’ll be close to Gemma.”

  Gillian jetted out a breath. “This is so stupid. We should all be together. My sisters and I and my parents. You and Seth. Hell, you and Haru-Re. Jeez, someone should knock some sense into those two idiots. Why keep fighting each other in a war that no one wins?”

  Nephtys smiled wanly. “For the same reason the sun shines in the daytime and the moon lights up the darkness.”

  Gillian simply didn’t comprehend the forces at work. How could she? She’d only known the immortals for a few short weeks. This war had been going on for millennia, ever since the dawn of Egyptian civilization. Between the Sun God and the God of the Night; between order and chaos, between enlightenment and darkness.

  There were those who believed it boiled down to the essential fight between good and evil.

  But that was wrong, Nephtys knew. Both Seth and Ray were good men, each in their own way. Neither condoned real evil, as many of the ancient rulers had done. They were both beloved of their immortal followers, and had long ago left mortals out of this war between demigods.

  No, she knew it was a much more personal battle going on between her brother and her captor. Of which, unfortunately, Nephtys herself was at the heart.

  She just prayed Josslyn Haliday had not now been tossed into the volatile mix like an accelerant in gunpowder.

  “It’s just the way of things,” she said. “There has always been strife between them, and there always will be, until one per netjer is irrevocably defeated.”

  Gillian shook her head. “That’s what Rhys says. But I still don’t get it.”

  “Listen to your man. There is much intelligence under that rakish exterior.” Nephtys squeezed her hand and let it go. “I’m sure it must be hard on Lord Rhys, being here,” she said sympathetically. True, the pair had betrayed her brother, but only because they were in love. And Seth had been working with faulty information, thanks to Nephtys’s incorrect interpretation of her vision, or he would surely have blessed their union. Seth only wanted his people to be happy and content.

  Sitting on the rim of the pool, Gillian raised her knees and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on a fist. “He misses his home and his friends terribly.”

  “I know he does. He and Seth were very close.”

  They sat in contemplative silence for a few moments. Nephtys dipped her fingers into the warm water of the sacred pool and stirred it. “If you and Lord Rhys could go back to Khepesh, would you?”

  Gillian glanced again at Isobelle and Trevor Haliday. She shook her head, though Nephtys could see that thinking about it hurt her—the prospect of having to choose between her parents and the man she loved. “No,” Gillian said. “I couldn’t leave them. My father needs me.”

  “Rhys loves you. And your father made his choice when he left you and your sisters behind,” Nephtys reminded her gently.

  “That was different,” Gillian said, forgiveness softening her voice. “He knew we’d be okay. We had each other.” Her gaze settled on Isobelle. “Mom had no one to take care of her here. She would have spent eternity alone. Like that.” Her lips thinned. “Damn, I wish there were some way to…” Her words trailed off.

  But Nephtys knew exactly what Gillian was thinking, because she was thinking it, too. “To reverse the magic that turned her into a shabti? I’ve never heard of a spell like that. But I promise, I’ll make it my business to find out.”

  Gillian smiled in gratitude. “If anyone can do it, you can. You’re
amazing at magic.”

  Nephtys smiled back and touched her fingertips to the young woman’s cheek. “And you, kitet, are getting quite handy with the spells, yourself. I’m very proud of your progress. What does Lord Rhys think of his lady becoming a temple acolyte and learning the ways of mystery?”

  Gillian rolled her eyes. “He says he wishes Petru were the per netjer of Isis instead of Re-Horakhti.”

  Nephtys let out a laugh. The temple maidens of Isis were notorious odalisques, their skills honed in a magic of the…more earthy variety. “Typical male. Thinking only of his pleasure.”

  “And is that so very wrong?” Ray’s deep voice cut across the garden from a shadowed doorway leading to the palace. How long had he been standing there listening? He ground out an aromatic cigarette and stepped out into the pastel glow of the spell-filtered sunlight. Nephtys’s heart skipped a beat. “After all,” he said, “doesn’t a man’s greatest pleasure lie in giving pleasure to his woman?”

  Nephtys barely resisted an unladylike snort. “Lie being the operative word,” she returned sharply.

  Ray’s eyes narrowed. “You insult me already, and the day has barely begun.”

  Gillian sprang to her feet and cleared her throat. “I, uh, just remembered there’s something I need to be doing.” With that, she hurried off.

  “A wise woman,” Ray murmured, watching her timely retreat.

  “As opposed to me, I suppose,” Nephtys said pleasantly.

  He leveled his gaze on her. “Did I say that?” he snapped.

  “Difficult morning?” she asked conversationally, determined not to rise to his bait. She refused to give him an excuse to impose his will on her.

  “I’ve had better,” he said with a scowl. “I could use a good fuck.”

  She lifted a brow, unoffended by his crudity. He liked to shock. She was used to it. “So much for your ritual purity.”

  He flung himself down on the granite rim of the pool and lifted his soft brown boot onto it, leaning back on one elbow. His hair was mussed from the morning breeze, and his golden robes fell about him carelessly, making him look achingly sensual. Every inch the seductive demigod he was.

  He regarded her. “What are you up to, meruati?”

  Her pulse fluttered. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Josslyn Haliday has vanished.”

  “Has she?”

  “Do not pretend ignorance,” he said evenly. “Your so-called ride this morning, it didn’t happen to have anything to do with her sudden disappearance, did it?”

  “You think I’ve done away with the woman? So you can’t have her? Really, Ray. I’m not that desperate.”

  “Hardly. You’ve sent her to your donkey’s ass of a brother, haven’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

  She pressed her fingertips together. “Even if I have, and I’m not saying it’s true, I don’t see that it’s any of your business. We have a deal. You have me. You leave her alone.”

  “Ah, but I don’t have you, do I?”

  Her mouth dropped open as a tingle of alarm rushed through her. “You wouldn’t dare go back on your oath to me, Haru-Re. Even a demigod must honor his word to a priestess.”

  “Only if she has honored hers to him,” he said silkily.

  She snapped her mouth shut. “Do not even go there, Ray.”

  The corners of his lips curled up. “Actually, our deal was Seth’s consort for mine. If he now has his bedmate in hand, and between his sheets, I want mine, too.”

  “I’ve told you, the purification ritual—”

  “Is bollocks and you know it. You’re stalling and I want to know why.” He slid his boot from the pool’s edge and lithely rose to stand in front of her, hands on hips. The air around him started to glow dimly. “It’s not as though you’ve ever refused to fuck me before. Therefore, there must be another reason. Tell me what it is.”

  His huge body nearly blocked the sun completely. And yet it emitted a light all of its own. Her heart beat faster. Her traitorous nipples beaded. His power never failed to excite her. “You assume she’ll just go along with what is asked of her. That she will simply say yes and fall into bed with him. She may not. She may despise my brother and refuse him.”

  Ray waved a dismissive hand. “He is vampire. It will take him five minutes to have her begging to feel the thrust of his cock inside her.”

  She regarded him coolly as an involuntary slam of hurt went through her chest. “Like all the women you’ve had begging for you?” she retorted.

  His brows slowly knitted. A shadow of insight passed across his features. “Is that what this is about? You resenting the women I’ve fucked in the past? What, did you expect me to live like an aesthetic, chaste and pure until you deigned to come back to me?”

  She’d had enough of this conversation. She stood. “I would never have come back to you,” she clipped out, and attempted to walk past him.

  He blocked her path and seized her arms. The air crackled. He pulled her close, but she turned her head, refusing to look at him. She didn’t want him to see the lie in her eyes.

  He bent his head and skimmed his lips along the edge of her cheekbone. She could feel the sparks bounce off her skin. “If you wish to continue your infernal purity ritual, you had better pray to the gods that Josslyn Haliday does refuse your brother. Because if she goes to him, if she binds with him as his consort, if she spreads her legs for him even once, I will know. And I will claim my rights with you, as well, my love.”

  His fingers closed around her jaw and he forced her face around to look at him. The sky lit up. And then he kissed her.

  His mouth covered hers, touching his tongue to the seam of her lips. Against her will they parted. She didn’t know if he was bespelling her or if it was her own infernal weakness, her accursed inability to resist him. But the damage was swiftly done. The taste of him overwhelmed her senses. And her wits.

  She moaned, and let herself be kissed. Allowed him to run his hands over her body and press his hardened cock against the inward curve of her belly.

  “Nephtys,” he murmured, “it’s torture having you so close but not in my bed.”

  Her addiction for him roared through her in a firestorm of need, kindled by their erotic encounters over the past month. He knew nothing of torture. She was the one whose body craved him like a vicious drug.

  “Come with me,” he urged her, starting to walk her backward toward the door to the palace. “Come to my rooms. Let me—”

  “No!”

  She wrenched her burning body away from him, shaking with the stinging need that coursed through her veins. A need she knew only he could satisfy.

  “Nephtys—”

  A need she must deny herself at all cost.

  “No, Ray,” she repeated, her body trembling.

  “When will you put an end to this foolishness?” he growled, his anger flaring to life with ribbons of flame around his head like a Medusa. Sparks rained down on them both. “You want me! You’ve already admitted it. Look at you! You’re as needy as I!”

  He was right, but she had to be strong.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Her heart beat out of control at her dared defiance. “My life and my body are my own to bestow as I see fit. You must respect my wishes.”

  He glared down at her, his eyes the windows to a roiling cauldron of emotion. But he didn’t shout. He didn’t curse. Instead, he said darkly, “That works both ways, meruati. You would do well to remember that.”

  She gazed up at him, struck by a brief shock of uncertainty. Was that…a glint of hurt in his eyes?

  No, surely not. How could she possibly have the power to hurt a man with no heart? She couldn’t. He was just feeling the pain of sexual frustration.

  Wasn’t he?

  Whatever it was, he whirled and walked away.

  Leaving her with the uneasy feeling that he had just let slip a shield that he hadn’t meant to. And she’d glimpsed a hidden part of him that he’d never intended to reveal.
A part that was vulnerable.

  The question was, would she use her newfound knowledge against him?

  Or would it only make her love him more…?

  Chapter 8

  Josslyn blew out a breath and smoothed her trembling hands down the front of the costume she’d been given to wear for her presentation to Seth-Aziz. As his human sacrifice.

  Oh, sweet Jesus.

  She tried not to think about it, but her heart was pounding like a bass drum.

  After she’d given in to his notorious bargain, the vampire lord had taken one look at her and ordered two servants to “Clean her up, and bring her to me.” Then he’d turned on a heel and stalked off. After going a few dozen yards, he’d halted, turned again and swirled his hand at her, and suddenly two delicate silver cuffs were circling her wrists, attached by a length of fragile-looking silver chain. There were no clasps.

  “Don’t bother trying to escape,” he’d told her, “the chain is stronger than it looks.” He’d turned again and continued down the soaring marble hallway, finally disappearing into the bowels of the palace.

  Then Joss had been led away by two of the mysterious female attendants she’d heard someone call shabtis.

  As an archaeologist, Joss was very familiar with the term shabti, or ushepti. It was the word for those ubiquitous, pretty blue doll-like statuettes found by the dozen, hundreds or even thousands, in every ancient Egyptian tomb from Alexandria to Aswan. Their purpose was to serve the dead in every capacity imaginable in the afterlife. The two shabtis helping her bathe were most definitely real, live women, but they seemed as oblivious to the world around them as their ceramic sisters. As though they’d been drugged. Or hypnotized. Robbed of all personality. It was downright spooky. And heartbreaking.

  Joss had been thoroughly washed, dried, oiled and perfumed and her face carefully made up with kohl, sparkling eye shadows and pounds of mascara that made her look like something straight out of The Arabian Nights. Then she was silently handed an outfit to wear.