“I was otherwise occupied. However, it appears Amunkha is back to his old games.” He sighed resolutely. “I’ll have to be more diligent.”
“Yes, I heard you were busy.” His face seemed torn between a grimace and curiosity. “It’s unlike you. As our friend Darius would say, spill!”
Ramose chuckled, but shook his head. “I wish I knew. She’s a riddle.”
“What’s so difficult about her?”
Ramose exhaled, searching for the words. “I can’t decide if she’s a threat or a blessing. She has her own Napshua, and it’s obvious it has bonded with her.” Ramose forced back the smile at his little change in his speaking patterns. It felt good to be less formal.
“Are you sure? Did you touch it? And did it hurt you?”
“No,” he shook his head. “It…”
“What? If you know it’s bonded, it must have done something.”
“It trembled.”
“Trembled? Like shook? Is that all? Ramose, are you sure you aren’t imagining things?”
He gave his friend a wry smile. “I wish. Then I’d be obligated to take it from her and be done with it. It definitely sent a tremor through the entire piece. There’s other things, too. She has gifts, like ours.”
Mereruka’s eyes widened in surprise. “What kind?”
“The most dangerous one. Fire. You and I both know how difficult it is to control such a talent. She has immense power.”
“And?” prompted Mereruka.
“And she’s almost gotten it completely under control. She only has problems when she’s angry, and even then she manages to minimize the damage.”
Mereruka laughed. “What did you do? Piss her off just to see?”
“No. Though I did manage to get her angry with me, regardless.”
“You are sure this woman is mostly human?”
“I am sure of nothing,” said Ramose, as he wiped his hand over his face. “All I can tell you is she’s more than human and less than Petiri. At least… I think she’s less.”
“Have you told her your suspicions?”
“Not yet. She does sense something, but we have just met. I’m not about to tell her what we are. I learned my lesson long ago. She was raised in a human world. That means all the same prejudices. Mereruka, I don’t want to see any of us on an examining table getting our insides cut open to see what makes us tick.”
“I think you are being overly pessimistic. Give her a chance.”
Ramose shook his head, his lips tightening. “No. She is far more dangerous than you know.”
“She’s not your dead wife. Women today are different. They are stronger, more independent.”
“I realize that.” Ramose scowled. “Which is exactly why I worry. My ex-wife reacted with blind terror. Tamara, she just might react with something much more frightening. Intelligence.”
“Trust is not a bad word. It is time you let the past be the past.”
“I will let the past go when we are safe on Petiri,” Ramose growled. “And not before.”
* * * *
Tamara counted to ten then let out the long sigh she’d been holding back and flopped back onto the bed. Julie would knock any second. That’s how her cousin worked, always able to sense when she could invade. Tamara did the ten-count one more time. At the last number, the knock.
Dragging herself from the bed, Tamara opened the door.
“So, tell me everything! Now.”
“Geeze, Julie, let a girl breathe, will ya?”
Her blonde cousin smirked. “Sorry. I just…I wanted to know what he’s like.”
“As if you don’t already know. Come on.” She grabbed her beat up fanny pack and a sweater from the closet. “Let’s go down for lunch, I’m starved.”
“But it’s almost two in the afternoon.”
“And I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Oh, all right. It’s a good thing I told Jeff I’d be a while.”
Tamara grinned. “So, how’s the honeymoon going?”
Julie blushed. “Absolutely wonderful, thank you for asking. We hung out by the pool this morning until it got crowded.”
“Uh huh.” They stepped into the elevator. “And since then you’ve hung out in your room, haven’t you?”
The elevator opened on the bottom floor, and they strode across the white marble. Tamara was thankful for her soft tennis shoes. She’d dressed in nice shoes for the museum, but now she wanted comfort. Besides, she’d never liked the clip clop of heels on hard surfaces. It seemed those noises should be saved for those who liked it when heads turned. She didn’t.
The host escorted them to a table along the window. It was a perfect view. The imperious pyramids stared at Tamara through the glass, the triple peaks mocking the technology of the cars that passed by. “It’s hard to imagine,” she whispered, “what it must have been like all those thousands of years ago when they were in all their glory. Their brightness must have been blinding.” But it really wasn’t hard to imagine. To see them, all she had to do was close her eyes and dream.
Her dreams were always filled with sights from Egypt, and several had shown her the pyramids in all their glory. The dull gray stone of today was only a shadow of the true bright white limestone casing they started with. They shone beneath the heavenly bodies for which many believed they were built.
“I know you, you have something on your mind.”
Tamara grimaced. “Ramose and I had a bit of an argument.”
Julie frowned. “I see you didn’t give him much of a chance.”
“You don’t understand. He has his own talents. He can make ice with his touch.”
Julie’s eyes widened. “He showed you?”
“After I nearly set the room on fire, he did.”
“So what did you argue about?”
“I’m not sure I even know. I guess he wanted to know more about my secrets and I wanted to know his. Neither one of us were willing to share, and it just got out of control.”
“That sounds like a good reason for an argument. I’m sure there was no sexual tension there to aid it.”
Tamara laughed and tossed her cloth napkin at her cousin. “Brat.”
The two both ordered their meals when the waiter appeared at their side, and then Tamara leaned back to relax. “It’s funny,” she said, “thinking of you being married, and me maybe meeting the man in my dreams.”
The bridal march suddenly tinkled mechanically in the room, and Julie grabbed her cell phone from her purse. Tamara grimaced at the sound, rubbing a hand through her hair. She was getting a headache. It had to be the surge of power caused by the arm bracelet because she rarely got headaches.
“Go. Don’t keep the man waiting.” Tamara waved toward the door, knowing it was Jeff on the phone.
Julie grinned, snatched her purse, and, before Tamara could say another word, her cousin was gone, heading back up to her new husband. The two J’s. What would it be like to be so close to someone that you didn’t want to be separated? Somehow, Tamara couldn’t see Ramose as the type to want to be attached at the hip to a woman. He was too…strong. Maybe even alpha. Everything about him screamed independence.
The waiter set her salad down in front of her then drew back, holding Julie’s plate of spaghetti, a question in his eyes.
“I’ll take that.”
Chapter Twelve
Tamara jerked her gaze toward the voice. Amunkha. The man was a nightmare waiting to spring on an unsuspecting victim.
“What do you want?” The sudden chill in the air sent goose bumps up Tamara’s arms, and she gripped the edges of her sweater, pulling it closer to her throat. She’d been raised to be polite and didn’t want to do something stupid and start an international incident, but she wished the man would go away.
“To talk,” he said, dropping into Julie’s seat and taking the plate from the waiter with an oily smile. The smell of the tomato sauce turned her stomach. What had moments ago seemed like an excellent choice for her cousin
’s meal was now repulsive.
The waiter turned to Tamara for confirmation. She hesitated.
“Ramose is very well known in this hotel, Tamara. I wouldn’t want for him to hear you made a scene.”
The implied threat twisted inside her. Anger burned, sending heat into her fingertips. With a curt nod, she waited until the server had stepped away.
“I don’t do well with threats,” she ground out. “And I don’t want you here.” The man’s black eyes narrowed. The itch of power played over her mind, and, with effort, she reinforced her mental walls, like tiny bricks separating her mind from his. Still, his darkness pushed, searching for weakness. Damn it. This man needed to take a long walk off a short pier.
“It was not a threat,” he said. “Merely a statement. Tell me, what is it about your web which has caught my dear Ramose so completely? You know, he warned me to stay away from you.”
“And it’s plain to see you didn’t listen.” Tamara took a drink from her water glass. She hid the grimace at the lukewarm liquid. Anger did that, burned from her hands to anything she touched. And water was a great conductor of heat.
Instead of rising to the bait, Amunkha rolled the cuffs of his pristine white shirt to his forearms then adjusted the golden scarab cuff links to hold them in place. Scarabs. Just another thing to not like about the man. Beetles, no matter their story in local history, creeped her out. His strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, also clamped with scarabs.
She hid a shudder and picked up her fork.
“I thought perhaps we could get to know one another. I’m here in the hotel. You’re here in the hotel.” He waved his fork for emphasis then slid it into the side of the noodles, twisting and guiding them into place using his spoon.
“I don’t care where you are, as long as it’s not here by me.” She stabbed an egg from her chef’s salad. “I’d like to eat my meal in peace. Why don’t you take yours and sit at the next table? It would just make my day.”
Amunkha set his silverware on the sides of his plate and cocked his head, his expression more amused than irritated. “I begin to see what it is about you. Ramose was always drawn to the fire.” He leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “And he always seems to get burned.”
The bite of boiled egg stopped half way to her mouth. Did Amunkha know something about her gift, or was he being facetious? The utensil in her hand heated, and she saw the egg edge with the tinge of brown.
“Yes, I think you and I could get along quite nicely. Why don’t we meet, later tonight? I could take you out to a real dinner. Not,” he motioned to the hotel foyer, “this type of drivel, but a real restaurant.”
“Let’s not.” Tamara tossed her fork down. Her food just didn’t look as appetizing as it had before Amunkha had arrived. In fact, she was no longer hungry at all. She motioned for the waiter. “I’ve had enough. Waiter,” she called.
The server moved to their table, sidling as close to her as he could. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who didn’t like Amunkha. “Please have this wrapped.” She motioned to her plate. “And I’ll need my check. Mr... Amunkha will pay for his own meal.” The waiter disappeared with the food. Funny how neither Amunkha nor Ramose had mentioned the man’s last name. She shrugged inwardly. It didn’t matter. What mattered was she’d had enough of this charade of civility.
Amunkha’s mouth tightened, and he dropped his fork. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she’d upset him. His eyes glazed over, and his aura, the one so empty of color, shimmered in the air, changing. Colors mixed in with the darkness. Healthy, normal colors: reds, blues and, greens. Everything the man had been missing for the past several minutes.
The evil sneer slid from his face, his features softening, his eyes widening. Dark obsidian eyes swirled, changing to deep liquid brown “I think maybe you can help me,” he said.
Tamara narrowed her gaze. What the hell was going on? She didn’t respond, but watched warily.
“No one else has been strong enough, yet I think you can save me, and save Ramose.”
He reached out a hand as though to grip hers, and Tamara jerked back. Whatever the hell was going on, she was not about to let this man touch her again.
Yet, even as she tucked her hands in her lap, counting each breath in an effort to maintain control of her talents, she fought the urge to reach out. Magick energy dusted her arms. Like tiny butterfly wings, it travelled over her skin, igniting the sensation that this was a different man than the one she’d just done her best to send away.
Then he changed. The swirl in his eyes appeared again, only to return to the deep and soulless black, his aura darkening to match. His lips curved back into their standard sly sneer.
Shit. He’d almost convinced her he could be human, and then he changed again. The stench of evil power slid over her skin like a dark, icy blanket.
The waiter brought her boxed salad, and she stood, tossing her cloth napkin to the table. “Enjoy your meal, Amunkha,” she said, as she scribbled her signature on her check. “And the next time you think of sitting beside me when you see me, don’t.”
Amunkha grabbed her bicep, his fingers closing around her Napshua. With a curse, he jerked his hand away.
Tamara jolted in surprise then looked at the hand he nursed. Tiny blisters formed on his palm before her eyes, his fingers held an angry burn.
“What the hell?” Comprehension dawned in his eyes. Barely contained fury radiated in waves. He was pissed.
Too damned bad. She’d moved beyond pissed some time ago.
Turning to leave, her gaze still on Amunkha, Tamara ran straight into a solid wall of muscle. She looked up, startled to see Ramose. He caught her, saving her balance then circled her wrist with his hand. He pulled her around him and planted his body between hers and Amunkha’s.
“You should have called for me,” she heard in her mind.
“Amunkha, I told you to stay away from the tourists.” Pure steel rang in his voice, the warning unmistakable.
“I was just getting to know her. She is such a charming creature, alone in our country. And you are such a busy man.” Amunkha’s voice was friendly, but his smile was false and tight.
“I will not play this game. It is beneath even you to taunt the tourists.”
Two energies could not be more different. They clashed, battling for supremacy, bouncing off one another’s bodies. No wonder the men hated one another. While Ramose’s aura was flashing with bright red protective fury, Amunkha’s remained dark, swirling from grey to black. Ghost-like fingers reached for anyone close enough for it to touch.
“But we both know,” Amunkha hissed, “she is no mere tourist.”
Ramose again refused the bait. “Pettiness does not befit you. I know you were at the museum. Cease your machinations.” He leaned toward Amunkha, his voice even lower, lethal. “You will stay away from the museum, and you will stay away from Tamara.”
The two glared at one another before Amunkha finally nodded, but his eyes remained hard.
Ramose straightened. He slid his hand from Tamara’s wrist to her palm, linking his fingers with hers. He turned and stalked out of the room, dragging her with him. “Slow down,” she whispered into his mind. “He doesn’t need to see me fall over with you dragging me. I prefer to make a graceful exit.”
Ramose shortened his stride, but otherwise said not a word. Tamara hid a tremulous smile. For the first time, she was able to use telepathy in another’s mind who wasn’t family. She wondered if she could ever feel what he was thinking the way she could her brother.
Chapter Thirteen
The door to the elevator whisked close. Tamara knew she should really be upset, but, for some reason, she wasn’t. She couldn’t resist. “Cease your machinations?” Talk about old English.
Ramose frowned, but didn’t answer. Probably because he was too busy fuming. From beside him, she could see the waves of angry energy pulsing about his body.
“I didn’t ask him to joi
n me,” she said airily. While the interlude with Amunkha had been uncomfortable, her skills at blocking the man had improved since his surprise visit. The repulsive tingle of the man’s touch still crawled along her arm, but she refused to let it get to her. The sweater she’d grabbed on the way down for lunch hadn’t been much in the way of protection.
“I didn’t think you had.” He still gripped her hand, and he stared at the numbers, watching the floors pass.
Tamara thought about arguing with him. She may not know him in this life, but she knew his face from her dreams. And no matter what he’d said, that was jealousy she’d seen when she looked up at him after slamming into his chest. Her body warmed, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
“Then why are you so angry with me?”
He whipped his head around, his eyes surprised. The elevator opened, and he stepped out, his hand still gripping hers. “I never said I was angry with you.”
“Then you’re angry with Amunkha?”
He held his hand out for her key. She frowned and handed it to him.
“Of course, I’m angry with him. But I’m angrier with myself. I told him to stay away from tourists. I should have known he would do exactly the opposite.”
He opened the door and motioned for her to go in ahead of him. She waited until he closed the door before responding. “So that’s what I am to you? A tourist?” She knew she was pushing him, but she wanted to know the answer. In all but one of her recurring dreams, he’d almost always been alone, but Amunkha’s comment about Ramose wanting to play with fire still burned inside her. What if the present day Ramose had been a ladies man? Jealousy twisted in her gut, but she refused to let it control her.
Once inside, he moved to the window and closed the drapes. He turned to stare at her, leaning against the table by the window, his hands in his pockets. The man looked the epitome of control. “No, you’re not just a tourist.” And sounded that way, too.
“I see,” she said, tossing her waist pack and sweater on the bed. She wanted to pursue more on that line, but not till after she’d resolved one more issue. “And what about Amunkha? What’s his deal, Ramose? It seems I’ve somehow gotten in the middle of a cat and mouse game, and I’ve turned into the mouse.”
Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) Page 9
