by Jackie Ivie
“...member of one of those weird sects? The ones claiming to be descended from some pharaoh’s bodyguard? The secret army supposedly guarding tombs?”
“What?”
“I’d heard whispers. I didn’t think they existed anymore, if they ever had. They became useless the moment Howard Carter found King Tut’s tomb.”
“I am not a member of any sect.”
Oh. Wait. That wasn’t entirely accurate. He belonged to the Vampire Assassin League. He opened his mouth to clarify, but she forestalled him.
“Oh. That’s right. You’re a vampire. I forgot that, too.”
There was a tone in her voice he wasn’t sure of. It didn’t match the content of her words. She sounded skeptical. Sarcastic. Slightly amused. Or he was hearing wrong.
“Did you?” he answered finally.
“You know...you resemble the ushabti. Especially in that pose. Is that why you did it?”
What pose? Oh. He’d been in the Pharaonic mummy pose. The only things missing were his ankh and djed pillar gripped in each hand. Sokar lowered his arms slowly, brushing against the superfine wool of his new suit coat. A silver button. His trouser zipper.
His trembling intensified. He shook violently. And she didn’t even notice.
“You want to explain?”
“Ex...plain?”
He managed to answer. The word was a growl of sound. She raised her eyebrows, altering her kissable look slightly.
“Yes. Before you try to kill me. I think you could explain a few things.”
“Do...what?”
“You are not a vampire. All right? They don’t exist.”
“Ah. I see now. I have been...obtuse.”
“What?”
“You will never believe unless you see for yourself. Touch. Experience.”
Touch? Experience? Her skepticism must have given him back a measure of control. Otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten those words out of his mouth.
“I’m not allowing you to bite my neck again. Okay?”
“No?”
“Oh. Absolutely no.”
“Fetch my ushabti,” he commanded. If she’d known him in his mortal life, she’d have recognized his tone. He was the eldest son of a powerful pharaoh. He was used to having his words obeyed. Instantly.
“I don’t have it here.”
He flicked a wrist. A cabinet door somewhere in the suite opened with a bang. An iron door clanked as it sprang open and smacked against the wood. The bundle containing his statue launched toward him. Sokar caught it to him without even looking. And then he waited.
Her eyes were enormous. Her mouth open, stunned. “How...did you just do that?”
“You don’t believe in Egyptian magic, either?” he asked.
Her mouth opened and closed again. Nothing came out. And that was extremely gratifying. Sokar put his head back and laughed heartily.
For the first time in several millennia.
CHAPTER FIVE
The guy was beyond incredible. His massive frame rocked with laughter. Unbridled. Loud. Joyful. It was a contagious sound. Geena almost joined him before he finished and stared back at her. Things were getting strange. There was a weight to the surroundings, a bit of pressure in the room, pushing ever so slightly against her. She couldn’t define it. She could barely sense it. The sensation was rather ethereal. Not quite real. Geena fought the urge to push back against it more than once.
And Sokar was at the center of it. Along with her.
His amusement didn’t fade away when he finished. He didn’t brush away a tear. He simply stopped mid-laugh and brought his head back down. And he really did have the most amazing eye color! He seemed to possess an uncanny ability to make it feel as if he looked right through her. She’d initially kept her gaze on his for self-preservation. It was a defensive move. An opponent would sometimes show their move a hairsbreadth before it happened. With their eyes.
It was for self-defense. And opportunity.
Those reasons were elusive now. Looking up at him was entirely too enjoyable, almost addictive. She almost sighed with something resembling pleasure before yanking the reaction back. What was wrong with her? Her training made her emotionless. Driven. Hard.
But she’d never been up against such a man.
Sokar was tall, but she’d seen men just as tall. He had something more. He had an added dimension. If she had to peg it, she’d say it was self-confidence. He exuded it. Then again...that could be because of his looks. She’d never been around a man quite as handsome, either. Self-confidence had probably been his birthright. Anyone looking at him probably found their tongue silenced. Their wits scrambled. It couldn’t just be her.
This was terrible. Really odd. Worrisome. He already had too many weapons at his disposal. The man possessed speed and dexterity. She had to factor in his ability with what he called Egyptian magic. While she didn’t believe in magic, that didn’t change what she’d just seen. The man had sprung a safe door without even being near it! Unbelievable. And now she was having trouble concentrating. Fate was delivering a combination she’d never dealt with before. She’d been right. Sokar was incredible. She might have to go with another plan.
Maybe even...seduction.
Then she wondered how best to go about it. She mustn’t be too brazen. Or overly coy. Geena swallowed. She couldn’t think. The sensation of pressure about them strengthened somehow. It was warmer, too. As if the air conditioning had died. She nearly fanned herself.
“You are very young,” he commented.
“Nearly thirty, not that it matters. And yourself?”
His lips twitched slightly as if he fought a smile. And then it faded. “In mortal or immortal years?”
Geena drew in a deep breath. It looked as if he did the exact same thing. She narrowed her eyes but didn’t break the gaze. She didn’t blink. He didn’t either.
“Mortal,” she finally replied.
“Twenty-five.”
“And you call me young?”
His shoulder moved. He stretched his free arm toward her. “Take my hand,” he commanded.
“Why?”
This time, he did smile. Her heart reacted with a stutter. He immediately sobered as if he’d guessed her reaction. And then he stepped closer, making what had been a very large hotel room feel small and cramped. It didn’t appear he’d be difficult to seduce. Geena’s throat tightened unhelpfully at the thought. Then it went dry, making it difficult to swallow. For some reason, physiology specified that right now she needed to swallow.
A lot.
She did, but it was more of a gulp. His eyes intensified, going to a green-gold glow. It resembled the scarab at the center of King Tutankhamen’s breastplate. The one made from vitrified glass...from a meteorite hit. A distinct buzzing resounded through her ears as she gazed at him. Enrapt. She almost missed his next step, coming closer still. Something rattled as if jostled by a careless hand. Something in another section of the room fell with a distinct crash. And—
Did the ground just move?
Geena yanked her gaze away. This was getting out of hand. She was imagining things. Envisioning worse. His eyes hadn’t changed. The pressure sensation wasn’t real. The ground hadn’t shifted. Nothing had fallen.
“I will not harm you, Geena-nefer.”
Did he just add beautiful to her name? Using ancient Egyptian? No. Unlikely. Improbable. She must have heard wrong. Geena sucked in a breath. She had to keep to her goal: escape. For that, she had to stay mentally alert. Focused. She moved her gaze back to his and watched the depths of his eyes grow brighter. The buzzing got even louder as she stared.
“You have my word.”
“That is not...what your statue says.”
“You speak of the curse?”
“Yes.”
“Do not let it concern you. It does not pertain to you.”
“No?”
He grinned, flashing a span of white teeth. Without one fang in sight. Not even a little spike. Her
mind registered it. For some reason that made her need to swallow again. It scraped her parched throat.
“Come. Take my hand.”
“Why?”
“I have something to show you.”
“Like what?”
“The tomb.”
“The tomb...where they got the ushabti?”
“Yes.”
Shivers rippled through her, originating in her spine somewhere, and branching out from there. She was alternately cold. Then hot.
“It has remained undisturbed for almost four thousand years.”
“Where?”
“It isn’t far.”
“How far?”
“Buhen.”
Her eyebrows lifted fractionally. That was even weirder. She should be looking up at him with complete surprise. “Buhen was an ancient Egyptian fortress. Now sunk far beneath the waters of Lake Nubia.”
“I know.”
“And, if it did still exist, it’s far south. Beyond Kom Ombo.”
“I know that, as well.”
“Even if you could get a plane to take us there, it will take hours.”
He shook his head. And looked away. At something over her head. That granted her a reprieve from whatever spell he’d been casting.
Oh no. No. Geena. You did not just think that.
She licked her lips. “Um. I have to admit, Sokar, you have my interest. Really. But...it’s late. Perhaps we could make a date? Meet at the lobby in the morning? Make a day trip out of it?”
“You are forgetting something.”
“What?”
“I rarely go into the sunlight. It is...unpleasant.”
Uh oh. That weakness was right in the vampire spectrum. But ‘unpleasant’ was a far cry from ‘deadly’. “Just unpleasant?” she asked.
“You are a stubborn woman. Willful. Argumentative.”
His words helped with the weird anomalies taking place about her. The pressure eased. The buzzing in each ear muted. Geena blinked a couple of times before answering.
“Really? I thought I was being fairly amenable. Or don’t you realize you’re the stalker here?”
“Stalker. I do not understand your use of the word.”
“You are in my room. Uninvited. And unwanted. I don’t know what it’s called in this country, but in mine your presence is a crime. I would be justified in defending myself. Even...to the death.”
He smiled that swift smile again. “You wish to fight again?”
“Well...if we do, I’d suggest you protect the family jewels a bit better.”
He looked back at her. His eyes had altered again, his pupils growing larger. The greenish-yellow color seemed more like an outline around a lot of black. He was so handsome. So...manly. Seducing him felt more like enjoyment than an act of last resort. His smile faded as he considered her. Geena’s heart faltered uncomfortably. His lips twisted as if he knew of it. What an awful thought. Then again, it might be normal for him. She might be responding the way every female did if they happened across his path.
That was sobering.
She took another dry swallow. Cleared her throat next. “Will you...need an explanation?”
He put a finger up. “I am not a stupid man. I appear to be a bit behind the times. That can be corrected. With time. And time is on my side, you understand.”
“Why do I bother speaking to you?”
He ignored her question as if it were rhetorical. “I do not wear jewelry. I wore a breast collar when we first met. You did not damage it. Therefore, you must be speaking of...”
His voice stopped. His eyes widened. His cheeks flushed a nice rosy shade. Oh, good. That was against any vampire mythos. Her mind registered it with relief that splashed over her ice water. Exactly when she needed it.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what it means, big guy.”
“In that event, you will definitely fail. I thank you for the warning.”
What an arrogant asshole.
As much as she’d been around male chauvinism in her lifetime, Sokar took the prize. He elevated misogyny to an entirely new level. It cleared any fog about her mind. Strengthened her resolve. She almost felt like thanking him.
Geena pulled her chin back. Straightened her shoulders. Locked her muscles. All, so she could look slowly over him, doing her best to make it a contemptuous gesture. She ran her gaze down to the tips of his black leather shoes. Back up those long legs, skipping what looked like a protrusion at his groin area, although her heart did another flip even as her mind sent the reassurance. She’d known a little about vampires before meeting him. She’d done internet research since. Vampires were dead. Animated corpses. They didn’t have passion. They couldn’t get erections.
This was impossible.
Despite the hold she exerted, a pleasurable sensation of warmth slipped into the depths of her belly. She needed to alter it. And fast. The guy had to have some flaw. His hair was neater than before. Combed close to the scalp. He was clean-shaven. He had a strong jaw. Incredible lips. Perfect nose. She moved her glance to his eyes. The backs of her knees quivered. Wow. She’d known of his handsomeness when she’d first met him. Dressed in a black suit, white broadcloth shirt, and black tie, he was absolutely gorgeous.
“You need to cease this,” he said.
“Cease...what?”
He growled. He actually growled.
Geena gasped. The weighted sensation was back. In force. It impelled her toward him. His next move amplified things. He filled the spot directly in front of her. He lifted his palm into the slice of space between them.
“Give me your hand. Now.”
“Why don’t you just take it?”
“I am unsure of what might occur.”
“I doubt...I’ll hurt you too much. You’ve been forewarned. Remember?” Was that her voice? No. Impossible. She’d never heard that tone. She sounded breathless. On edge. Extremely excited.
“You do not understand. This is—. I must—. I have to—. I cannot—.”
“Yes?” The Geena with the voice of a mythical siren prompted after his stammering halted.
“I do not have control.”
“Over what?”
“This.”
The word was hoarse. Deep. Loud. It resounded through the room, making several things fall, while something in the bathroom shattered. And then he moved. Geena got grabbed about the waist, lifted off the floor. Yanked toward him. But it was her move that made their connection. Her arms that looped about his shoulders. Her upward lunge that connected their lips. The strange aura manifested into a note of music that swelled as she kissed him.
He shuddered. The ushabti bundle fell with a thud. Something else crashed somewhere in the room. A quick stab of pain happened to her lip. He pulled his head back and sent an earth-shattering groan into the space. Things crashed in the room about them. And then everything started spinning.
CHAPTER SIX
By all the gods!
He’d forgotten the exquisite impression of touch. He didn’t even recognize it. Not like this. Nor with this much intensity. The ability to receive stimuli through physical contact sent everything into a primal gut-clenching realm. It was powerful. Almost painful. Just clasping to his mate was akin to being sliced open by a weapon. Her kiss could slay. The taste of her blood was the annihilating force. It eroded his control. Even his fangs had elongated despite every intention to the contrary.
He’d been told about mating. The warning should have contained stricter words.
He was afraid of scaring her.
Her?
That was the lesser problem. Sokar grew more worried by the moment. Somehow, he must gain command over massive need that was mixed with unbelievable want. Find a way to rein back hunger that spanned millennia. Thwart flames of passion that grew to consuming level. Slow the size and breadth of desire that demanded he take her, cleave with her. Possess her.
He’d been spinning with her in his arms. He forced the rotation to a halt. The room came
back into view. A lightshow of sparks had been showering the floor. They jumped about before sputtering into nonexistence. It took a moment to decipher the source. The electrical outlets had exploded. Black spots marked the wall above each one.
“So...kar?”
The hesitancy in her voice was yet another projectile, aimed right for his reanimated heart. Then the sensation of her breath against his neck added further torment at her whisper.
“Enta habibi,” he whispered.
“You are my love?”
She translated it as a question. As if there was any doubt. Sokar threw his head back and laughed. And then he moved. They reached the bedroom before the echo of his voice even started. The coverlet had been turned down on her bed. It wasn’t enough. He ripped the comforter and top sheet off, leaving the bed surface covered with linen. He had his mate. Right here. Right now. He’d been dormant too many centuries. He wouldn’t allow anything to cover this. Filter it. Obscure it. He was shaking as he placed her atop the sheet. The mattress bounced.
And then he perched beside her. On his knees. Not touching. Just looking. His gaze devoured. Consumed. All sorts of alarms rang through his skull, in the event he needed more warning. The view was beyond heavenly. The dress she wore skimmed her form, outlining the tight nipples atop each breast before it grazed her slender waist...the swell of her hips. White satin molded to her curves like it had been sewn just for him. As if his long dormant-hunger needed more fuel.
At the thought, his restraint wavered. A monstrous surge of need slammed through him. Again. Sokar knotted his fists, pressed them to his chest, and hunched forward. Still, a howl of frustration escaped his lips. For almost four thousand years he’d been the epitome of strength. Power. Might. It was his whenever he needed. And at that moment, he realized it might not be enough.
“Hey. Big guy. Sokar?”
She didn’t sound afraid. She sounded...
Dare he hope?
