by Nina Bruhns
By this point she’d been half expecting one of those typical bikini-top-and-see-through-skirt getups that belly dancers wear. But she’d been surprised—and completely mortified—when it turned out to be one of those long, skin-tight and totally see-through pleated-linen gowns seen gracing the women depicted in most ancient Egyptian art.
Good lord.
It was, admittedly, gorgeous; a beautiful shade of shell-pink shot through with silver threads, shimmering with a sheen like the wings of a hummingbird.
It felt as fragile as a dress made of tissue paper and lay against her body like a gossamer glove. How would it ever hold up to the strong hands of a feeding vampire? She had the sinking feeling it wasn’t meant to.
Like everything else she’d experienced today, the thin silver cuffs and delicate, ornate chain that still bound her wrists defied logic. Though solid to the touch, and unbreakable when she tried to snap the chain apart, other objects would melt right through it—the towel the shabtis dried her with, the fabric of her gown, even the shabtis themselves when they brushed her cleansed hair until it shone like spun gold.
What was the true purpose of the restraints, then? She was afraid to ask.
Finally she could drag her preparations out no longer. She was ready to be brought to Seth-Aziz.
It was time to be sacrificed.
Her heart thundered as she was led to the high priest’s rooms. Her feet were bare, and the smooth, seamless marble floor felt cool and hard underfoot as she followed the two shabtis down a long, long corridor. Silver torch-sconces lit their path, illuminating soaring silver columns, elaborate carved reliefs, exquisite painted murals and luxurious tapestries on every wall. The collection of glass, precious-metal objects and statuary that decorated the niches along the way would have robbed her of breath at any other time.
The people she passed in the halls greeted her with formal bows and curtsies, as if she were some kind of royalty. She felt strange, and very exposed in the insubstantial gown. But if they paid her outfit any mind, it was only to openly admire it, and her. Normally she would have been dying of embarrassment. But at the moment all she could think of was the coming ordeal.
And Seth-Aziz.
He was, she reluctantly acknowledged, the most dazzlingly sexy man she’d ever seen. His soaring, muscular body was worthy of a well-trained athlete, his coal-black hair the perfect length to be infinitely touchable. Even his stern, aristocratic features appealed to her, far more than any vapidly perfect movie idol had ever done.
But it was his black eyes that really got to her. Sharp and furious one moment, they could be sultry and provocative the next, drawing her in, making her want to drown in their enigmatic depths and unveil the mysteries behind those fathomless orbs.
They were on her now, those intense, watchful black eyes, as the shabtis ushered her through his nearly dark suite of rooms. Only a few scattered candles burned, casting eerie shadows on the walls and furniture as they lit a path through the darkness.
A few more glowed in the chamber where he awaited her. It was like a luxurious cave inside, a chiaroscuro of dark and darker, with just enough light for her to see where they’d taken her.
His bedroom.
Her heart stalled, then took off like a racehorse. The bed was huge and heavy, taking up the whole center of the room. Its intricate headboard was wrought of star-glittering silver, as so much of Khepesh seemed to be. The bed linens were of crimson-colored satin, and a mound of pillows was scattered carelessly about, as if he’d just risen from a nap.
But Seth-Aziz was not in the bed.
Thank God.
He was reclining on a soft white, upholstered chaise, a silver goblet in his hand, his long legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. His outfit was the same as he’d had on earlier. Well. Parts of it. He still wore the black breeches in the style of the desert nomad, along with a black, floor-length robe, or bisht, of the finest silk, that flowed off the white chaise like a black silk waterfall. But he’d taken off his tall black boots, and the black tunic he’d been wearing was gone, too, leaving his bare, olive-skinned chest framed like an exquisite work of art by the black edges of the bisht.
As she drank in the sight of his body, he watched her expression with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.
He was magnificent, and he knew it.
Nevertheless, she felt her nipples ruche and a warmth invade her belly. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. And never, ever had she been with a man like Seth-Aziz.
Not that sex had been part of their bargain. That had never been mentioned.
Even so, there was an unmistakable, simmering charge of sexual expectation that permeated the air between them.
But for some reason Seth didn’t seem happy about that. Or her. Or something. He looked positively fierce as his gaze glided down the length of her, taking in the gown and her body. Missing nothing in its slow descent.
She glanced nervously down at herself, her cheeks burning, wondering if he found fault with her. Suddenly it mattered. She wanted him to think her attractive. Though for the life of her she couldn’t imagine why. The man was a vampire.
Her hands started to tremble at the reminder. The links of the chain that bound her jingled softly. She couldn’t make them stop.
Slowly he placed the goblet on a low table beside the chaise and rose to his feet.
God, he was tall. He towered over her.
He reached out and touched her hair, letting his fingers sift through the long, golden strands. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low.
His strange, otherworldly energy enveloped her, brushing over her skin, invading the hidden places of her body. She shivered in unbidden relief. She wanted to please him…
He came closer, taking her face in his hands, tipping it up to his. A ripple of power shivered through her where he touched. Desire reared up, hot and potent.
She put her hands to his chest. More electricity. Hotter desire. And a frisson of terror. She started to shake harder.
“Are you afraid?” he asked.
“Yes,” she admitted. “Terrified.”
“Good,” he said, and she gasped softly. “You would do well to fear me,” he said, his eyes drilling into hers. “Do not ever think to betray me, Josslyn Haliday, for it will go badly for you if you do.”
“I wouldn’t,” she said unsteadily. “I won’t.”
She couldn’t look away. She was having a hard time forming a coherent thought. The feel of his hands on her, and of hers on his chest, the accidental brushing of their lower bodies, the intensity in his gaze, were all scrambling her brain.
He compelled her head to one side, and his fingers scraped her hair back, exposing the side of her throat.
Her heart beat out of control. Was he going to bite her now? So soon?
She saw his nostrils flare, and he leaned in to put his lips to the side of her temple. Not in a kiss. Just a touch. Her skin sizzled with pleasure where his mouth grazed it. Her nipples hardened to tight pebbles. Wanting his mouth to touch her there, instead.
She stepped in closer, pillowing her body into his, sliding her hands around to his sides, feeling the hard, solid wall of him against her palms. The chain binding her wrists remained a cool, solid line between them. But that was the only thing about them that was cool. The rest of her was hot. And so was he. Scorching hot.
The long, thick length of his cock pressed into her belly. A breathy moan escaped her. God, she wanted him.
His lips moved down to the sensitive spot just below her ear. A sharp fang scraped erotically along her skin. She shivered violently as a jolt of sexual need rocked her clear to her toes.
His hands moved inward over her shoulders, his thumbs hooking in the neckline of her fragile gown. He slid them back again, pulling the neck of the gown farther and farther apart, until she heard a rip, and the delicate fabric tore down the center.
It ripped. And ripped. And ripped. Until the gown fell away and she
was naked before him.
Her body throbbed with want.
“Seth-Aziz,” she whispered, pressing herself tighter against him.
She felt his desire in the quickness of his breath, the intensity of his touch, the lengthening and thickening of his cock. And the razor’s edge of his fangs at her throat.
He murmured, “Josslyn, you must give me per mission.”
She couldn’t stop now if she wanted to. It was like a compulsion within her, this raging desire she felt for him. She wanted to know what it was like to be taken by him. She wanted to know what it was like to be bitten by him.
“Yes,” she said. “I give it to you. I give myself to you, Seth-Aziz, in every way.”
She felt a low, rumbling growl from deep in his chest. His fingers dug painfully into her flesh. Sweeping her up into his arms, he strode the three steps to the bed. He lay her down, threw off his bisht and lowered himself on top of her. She spread her thighs to accept him, the smooth fabric of his trousers still coming frustratingly between them.
The silver chain jingled, then melted through his body as she put her arms around him. But suddenly it jerked, and pulled her arms up over her head, as though the links were attached to some invisible pulley on the headboard.
She gasped, struggling against its unrelenting pull. “What are you doing?” she cried. A buzz of fear washed over her.
Followed closely by his hands. They blazed an electric path over her hips and along her ribs, sliding up and over her breasts. He touched her there, running his thumbs over the aching tips until they stood at painful attention. He pinched them, and she gasped again as her body bowed up in a deluge of pleasure.
“The hunger is strong,” he said, his voice rough with need. “And I want you helpless.”
A candle sputtered out.
“I don’t like—”
“I don’t care,” he cut her off gruffly. “This is my end of our bargain. And I want it like this.”
His mouth came down on her then, and all objections flew from her mind.
He tasted like sin. Dark, rich and velvety. Like her favorite sweet and her favorite memory all rolled together. She opened for him, and his tongue invaded her, seeking, laving, dueling with hers. An orgasm built and exploded in a shimmer of sensation before she knew what was happening.
Her cry of pleasure spurred him on. His kiss was as deep as the darkness he lived in. She tugged in frustration at her bonds, wanting to put her arms around him and pull him closer still.
He deepened the kiss even more. She felt a sudden prick on her tongue and sucked in a breath. A tinge of copper blossomed in her mouth. He growled low in his throat, and his body ground into hers.
A renewed craving swept through her. It was like she hadn’t just come. Like she hadn’t come in years. Her thighs shook. Her lungs were breathless. She jerked at her chains, wanting to get to him.
More urgent now, he moved down her body, his tongue licking a trail of sizzling, shivering embers along her skin. He found her breast and his tongue circled the nipple, driving her mad with need. She arched up, thrusting the aching tip into his mouth. He bit down. His fangs sank into her flesh.
She screamed, detonating into another climax, this one bringing her up off the bed in a conflagration of pleasure.
She didn’t think— She didn’t know he’d—
Oh, God! Her body shook as he sucked her breast, the climax going on and on, bringing the chains taut as she strained against their hold. She could feel the slick smear of blood on his lips, but she didn’t care.
She gave a groan as she came down from the peak. She wanted more. More.
She felt him lift his head, but she didn’t have the energy to open her eyes. She was exhausted, exhilarated.
He shifted to the other breast. She barely had time to take a breath. The sharp sting of his bite pierced her again. Her body convulsed, and an even more intense pleasure swept over her. She screamed with it, reveling in the pure carnality of it. Of him. She was barely hanging on to consciousness. She fought to stay with him. She wanted to feel everything, every sensation, every amazing second of his touch.
She was panting uncontrollably now, gasping, crying out, floundering in a viscous sea of his power and of endless pleasure. Lost to all sense of time, of self, of her own will.
She dragged her eyelids up and saw him looking down at her. There was blood on his lips, more on his chin. A smear of scarlet slashed across his cheekbone, and he had a harsh, savage, unreadable expression on his face. His long, sharp, blindingly white fangs gleamed as they dripped with her blood. Her heart quailed. She fought to keep her eyes open as he slowly, oh so maddeningly slowly, lowered them toward the throbbing vein on the side of her neck.
Oh, God.
His mouth closed over her throat.
Her eyelids fluttered closed and she stilled her heaving breath.
A burst of harrowing pain razored through her flesh and then blossomed into the most excruciating pleasure she’d ever experienced. It seized her. And shook her. And turned her instantly inside out.
A scream froze in her throat, choked off by the tingling feel of her life’s blood gushing into his mouth. Blackness began to descend over her mind.
And as she lost consciousness, she wondered…
Would she ever awaken again?
Chapter 9
He drank.
Sinking into the dizzy delirium of a feeding that was far too long overdue, Seth let the precious liquid slide down his gullet, swallowing convulsively. It hit the pit of his stomach like a dozen shots of the strongest liquor all at once.
His body bucked under the impact, nerve endings buzzing like a hive of hornets attacking an intruder in their nest. His whole body burned like acid.
And then the buzzing ebbed, and the succor flowed into his veins, renewing his strength, expanding his power, banishing the weakness as it absorbed into his starving body.
As he slowly recovered, his cock stretched and thickened, desperately seeking the potent release of blood sex. He craved the intensity of being inside a woman when he fed. He ached to be inside this one.
Her blood was like a rare aphrodisiac. He wanted to ram himself into her and take her like she’d never been taken before. Until she screamed his name and begged for mercy.
Except she already had. And then she’d fainted. He wasn’t going to take her like that. Unconscious. Unaware.
He wasn’t going to take her at all.
This was Josslyn Haliday, the woman who had brought him nothing but trouble, and the only thing he wanted from her was this. To fulfill Sekhmet’s curse and nourish his blood for another year.
Having sex with her would complicate matters. It was possible to bind a woman for life if she allowed herself to surrender completely to his powers. His seed did not carry the possibility of new life. It carried the germ of addiction, as did his bite. It took a strong woman to resist their combined force.
He wanted no part of a possible bond with her.
He only wanted her blood.
So he took it. Greedily. Plenty of it. Filling his belly and his veins with the power of her mortality and the essence of her life.
Even unconscious she writhed and moaned in pleasure, her darkened mind drowning in the dreamworld of his irresistible magic, her legs splaying in invitation for more. It was difficult to turn away from the pleasures she offered.
But he did.
And when he’d drunk his fill, he rolled off her body, his chest heaving with gratification, his body thoroughly sated—in that way at least—and his strength finally, finally restored to full.
He lay there for a long while, listening to her steady, rhythmic breathing, making sure she was recovering from her ordeal. He’d taken much, but not enough to harm.
Physically, anyway.
It couldn’t have been easy on her. Submitting herself like this to him, for her body to be used by a stranger in ways she’d probably only imagined in nightmares before today. All for the sake of
her sisters.
A prickle of shame sifted through him at that. He hadn’t lied to her, exactly. But he had misled her badly. Her sisters were already free, because, although not yet immortal, they had both joined the per netjer and sworn with their lives to keep the secrets of the immortal world safe. Josslyn would never be allowed back into the mortal realm unless she did, too. Gemma knew that. It’s why she was so angry with him, for his half-truths. Well he was angry, too. He’d lost his sister, and it would be a miracle if Khepesh survived another year. All because of the woman lying next to him.
It didn’t matter if Nephtys had sent her to him, believing this woman was destined to be his soul mate. He didn’t believe it. And he didn’t want her. Every time he’d look at her she would only remind him of the part she’d played, however unwittingly, in the eclipse of everything he loved.
She stirred, and her hand reached for him in her sleep. He moved away, not wishing her touch. But he turned to look at her for the first time since the fever had cooled.
A bolt of shock went through him. Sekhmet’s teeth. Her fair skin was smeared with scarlet streaks of blood; the linens beneath her were soaked with dark pools of it. He wiped a hand over his face. It came away stained with crimson.
Had he been such a savage with her?
Normally he took his sacrifices with barely a spilled drop. Never like this. Okay, last week, sharing magic with Gemma and Shahin, it had gotten a bit messy—but only because he’d been unaccustomed to stopping after only a few sips and the blood had poured from her wounds before he could heal them. But this…
He made a moue of disgust with himself. He’d obviously lost control. It was unforgivable.
Sliding out of bed, he gently gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bath chamber, sending a spell ahead of them. By the time he’d bespelled his trousers off, the deep Roman tub was filled with steaming, spice-scented water. He stepped in and sank down with her still in his arms into the warm, fragrant bath.
“Mmm,” she murmured, curling into his body as he settled and reclined against the slanted back of the tub. He waved a hand over her eyes so she wouldn’t awaken yet. He didn’t want her getting the wrong impression.
