Frustrated, she dropped her arms to her legs and looked up. A shrunk sat on the opposite wall. A garment hung over the door. Her costume. The one she’d bought at the market that day. Was it just two days? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
That garment was special to him. The dream where he’d thought she’d said goodbye. The look in his eye at that moment was guilt. He really thought she’d be angry that he married someone more than three thousand years before?
Maybe age didn’t matter. She didn’t want to be the one person who met her soul mate and then led a miserable life because she’d passed him by.
Her mind played over the looks that had passed between them. Before he knew who she was, how he’d fought the building attraction. She’d seen it in his eyes at the museum. In the car, and even a little that first night.
And, then, he’d finally recognized her. The pure joy and lust in his eyes had shone through, and his kiss, well, that she’d felt all the way to her toes.
* * * *
Ramose stood in his kitchen, fighting the cold surging through his veins. He ached to release the power, setting ice to everything in the room. The need to release the tight sensation building in his chest stretched the tattered edges of his control. He closed his eyes, struggling to maintain the control he’d used for centuries. If she rejected him now, after he’d shared everything, he wasn’t sure how he would survive.
He didn’t know how long he stood, unable to think or act, when a whisper of a sound caught his attention. Moving toward the living room, he peered inside.
Darkness greeted him, broken by the soft glow from the fireplace. Candles, with their small flames dancing in the night, dotted the furniture in his living room. Candles he’d laid out for Tamara.
The couch, once the center of the room, was now pushed to one side, revealing a wide, empty space between him and the fireplace. Centered before him, Tamara stood, her smooth back bared to his eyes.
His heart thudded hard in his chest as he took in the soft, delicate skin. A fiery red chiffon skirt floated in the darkness to her small delicate ankles, her feet were bare. The slit of the filmy cloth exposed the long, well-muscled leg all the way high to her waist. Ramose swallowed. Hard. She was wearing the same Raks Sharki costume he’d purchased for her at the market.
The same as in his vision.
His cool demeanor disappeared. The cold in his veins warmed, and sweat beaded on his brow. In a flash, his body hardened, hungry to take what was his by right. By covenant.
His chest constricted as his greatest fantasy took flight. For thousands of years, he’d dreamed of this moment: The instant in time when his Kha-Ib would dance the Raks Sharki for him, and for him alone. He drew in a long breath, fighting to steady the erratic flutter of his heart.
The first beats of the slow beladi drums echoed in the small room. In an instant, his heart slowed to match their four beat rhythm. Every muscle in his body screamed in anticipation, his groin painfully hard. She’d danced for him before, and she knew what it did to him. Knew how much he’d wanted her before they’d been interrupted. Surely, this was her way of sending a message.
Soft, wooden pipes played taunting, earthy music, and he waited, his breath frozen in his lungs. Her hips swayed with feminine assuredness, sinuous and sensuous.
Ramose stepped deeper into the room, hungry to feel her body, to taste the sweetness he knew lay within. Arousal coiled deep in his gut, twisting and building with every move of her body. The scent from the candles couldn’t hide her feminine sweetness, the spicy aroma of lilies. The heat from her gift called to him, rippling through the air between them as though hungry to heat the icy cold center of his being. He forced air into his lungs.
She was exquisite.
She was his Kha-Ib.
The hypnotic swaying and undulating of her hips drew his eyes, and he swallowed the hard lump in his throat. She danced in a circle, her long, delicate arms moving with the grace of the serpent already adorning her arm. The veil in her light-fingered grasp was an extension of her beauty and seduction. The urge to touch her overwhelmed the pleasure of her dance, and he reached out to take her in his arms, but she had already moved on.
Her body turned, twirling. The delicate garment she wore hid as much as it displayed, teasing and taunting him, floating from shoulder to knee. One moment displaying the long, muscled leg, the next hinting at the curve of a breast. Gods of Egypt, she was killing him.
At last, she slowed, facing him, her eyes a sultry mix of innocence and eroticism. The fire of her costume matched the golden ring of fire in her eyes. Then her lashes fluttered as though a moment of shyness rippled through her. But she didn’t stop. Thank the gods, she didn’t stop. Instead, she moved forward, her head tipped back, a challenge burning in her expression.
His dreams had done nothing to prepare him for this moment. For in them, she was merely a woman, dressed in beautiful clothing. But here. Here, she was fire. Here, she was heat and passion. Fire he couldn’t wait to let singe his fingers, passion his tongue hungered to taste.
Pure female. Strong. Magickal. And hungry for him.
She danced closer, his hand reached out, grasping nothing but air, for she again twirled away like a spark burning in the night. Untouchable and beautiful. Inside, he knew she held the power of the dragon, hot and deadly. She was his Kha-Ib. The heart to his soul. But she was also strength. What she’d accomplished today alone terrified and aroused him.
The rush of lust surged through his blood, piercing his control, demanding he seize her. Now. But he would wait.
She circled him, the brush of silk teasing his flesh. Ramose swallowed. He folded his arms to keep from reaching out, gripping his biceps until his knuckles turned white. Her rich, lily scent wafted about him, caught in the current between them, filling his lungs with her essence.
Her hungry gaze never left him, as though taking in his every response. The control over his born talent wavered, and fingers of ice skittered over his skin, radiating from his palms to his forearms. With every breath, he wanted to touch her, to taste her. He fought to control his need even as sparks flicked around her body.
Never before had fire been so wonderfully enticing. For centuries, he’d avoided it, fearing it would damage his own talent. But the gods didn’t make mistakes. If she damaged his ice, so be it.
* * * *
Dragging the edges of the veil across his shoulders, Tamara grew mesmerized by the tiny flicks in his muscles beneath her touch. He stood, deceptively still, like a wild predator stalking his prey, his eyes trailing her every movement. Even now, with her behind him, she knew he sensed every sway of her body.
She needed this. To take control and show him what she wanted. To show she was not the child he thought her to be. Every move she made was designed to tease and arouse. Every step she took designed to build her confidence. And it was working. Her fingers itched with the desire to reach out and touch him. To feel his cooling energy against the heat of her body.
Even now, he reminded her of the cobra adorning his arm. Intense. Sleek. Powerful. And hungry. A shiver ran down her spine at the comparison. Prey. Yes, that’s what she was this night. Just as he was hers.
Tamara took a deep, cleansing breath then closed her eyes, letting the music take her. The melody seeped into her body, soothing her fears, soothing her soul, and washing away her doubts. The scarf fluttered against her back, and she raised her arm, lifting the soft silk higher. The new pose offered a full view of her body from the side, her leg shifting with the beat, her hip rising and falling.
A rough growl of approval rumbled from Ramose.
Tamara bit back a smile and drew closer before spinning around again. A flick of her wrist sent the scarf flying over his head. It fluttered, landing on his shoulders. She tugged the ends, pulling him close. His breath feathered across her lips.
“You think I don’t want you.” Her voice a soft, angry whisper. “You’re wrong.”
His darkened eyes widened then
narrowed. He reached out, snagging her about the waist.
“Explain,” he whispered, his voice harsh.
She gave a seductive smile, her nails trailing down his naked chest, teasing him with a light touch. He shuddered then lowered his head, his lips now so close she need only lift her chin to meet them.
“I am your soul mate. I never doubted that. Just knowing you has made me face my past and my future all at once.” The muscles beneath her fingers hardened, and his eyes darkened, filled with hunger.
“You have nothing—”
Tamara pressed her fingers over his lips.
Tamara sensed the instant change in him. The cold flesh dissolved, and, in its place, heat burned in his eyes. Long fingers fisted in her hair, dragging her head back. His breath teased her throat, his lips drawing a path down the soft, vulnerable skin.
“Nanik,” he murmured.
She recognized the word and murmured her assent. Nanik.
He growled as his lips trailed down her neck. The vibration sent a shiver of lust down her spine, sparking the heat deep inside. For a moment, they swayed to the music, his hands caressing, his lips tasting.
He cupped the cheeks of her rear, pulling her hard against him. Tamara bit her lip, fighting the soft whimper of desire lodged in her throat.
The music changed, moving to a slow, erotic beat. Grasping the last tendrils of her control, she pushed away.
Ramose groaned his disappointment, and she had to fight back one of her own, already missing the hard caress of his body. She gave him a shy smile and backed toward the soft pillows she’d arranged on the floor. She’d known the instant she decided to dance for him where this would take her. A twinge of fear skittered up her spine, but she banished it. Her past was gone. Just as was his.
Today, they would start fresh.
She needed him. His touch. His kiss. His body. The strength and power he held inside him reached for her, calling to her as no other man had. He cooled the raging inferno always burning inside her while stoking a new one in its place.
The instant her ankles backed into the cushions, Tamara dropped to their softness. He was right beside her, following her every moment, dropping to his knees before her. The hunger in his eyes took her breath away, and she forced herself to remember to breathe. She again banished a sliver of fear threatening to skitter up her spine. She would not be afraid of this man.
She expected him to join her on the soft bed she’d created.
He didn’t.
Instead, a cool hand closed around her right ankle, placing her foot upon his thigh. Long, calloused fingers caressed her calf, teasing her already warmed flesh with his cool touch. Inch by inch, his hands caressed higher and higher, the rough skin of his palms in such contrast to the soothing, gentle touch.
He lifted her foot to his shoulder, his lips cooling her overheated skin. She groaned at the soft, sensual sensation of soft, hungry kisses against her ankle. He moved forward, his mouth trailing upward, easing past her knees, his hands caressing every inch of flesh on the way. When he reached her hips, he continued upward, teasing her belly. He felt so good. So right.
Long, masculine fingers teased the edges of the sequined bra, but he didn’t remove it. She moved to do it for him, and he shook his head.
“Don’t. Let me.”
But he didn’t. His mouth closed in on the exposed upper curves of her feminine softness, moisture sizzling over her skin as her body absorbed the cool wet kisses. He shouldn’t feel this good. Women were supposed to like heat. Yet everything Ramose gave her chilled her, just enough to drive her insane, her body firing with every touch, every kiss and every soft breath.
“Neferhemet,” he murmured. Beautiful.
His hand slid back downward, toward the apex of her thighs. This was it. The moment she’d wanted. The moment she feared. What if… she banished the thought before it was complete in her mind. She would not--could not--be afraid of Ramose.
His mouth teased her throat, before moving upward, his breath brushing against her ear a second before his teeth nipped her lobe. She groaned at the sensation just as a finger brushed against her feminine flesh. Tamara gasped and stiffened. Damn, that felt—awesome. Her heart fluttered with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings in her chest.
Ramose gave a soft, masculine laugh, his breath cooling the simmering skin along her ear. She bit her lip, wanting to laugh, wanting to cry, but most of all, fighting the desire to beg for more.
He touched her again, this time more firmly. Her body trembled. The cool of his winter’s night combined with the heat of her summer’s storm swirled inside her. What would happen if she lost control? Could his ice hold in the explosion? Or would the heat from her body burn Ramose? Damaging his body? She stiffened.
“It’s okay, Kha-Ib.”
“But, what if—”
“You can’t hurt me,” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek, the sharp edges of his beard sending her need even higher.
His arousal pressed against her body, and she yearned to have more. What would he feel like inside of her? Would he be hot, and hungry? Or would he be cold, sweeping away the erotic fires exploding inside her?
“We don’t know that,” she groaned, arching into the hand cupping her breast.
* * * *
For the first time in his life, Ramose was hot. Burning with an all-encompassing hunger for this woman. For his Kha-Ib. He understood her concerns, but everything would be perfect. For once, science would play no part in his life. Elo, his god, would never give him a Kha-Ib he couldn’t touch. Even if she melted the very ice he controlled, he didn’t care. His body absorbed every bit of her fire, swirling it inside him, his own icy cold core wrapping it in a cooling blanket. Each caressing blush of heat melted the sheen of ice surrounding his heart.
“But I do,” he growled. He caressed the sweet silk of her feminine core again, tensing when she arched into his hand, her body writhing against the pillows. His gaze glued itself to the sequined costume bra she wore. The soft, gentle curves of her breasts heaved with every breath, every gasp. They lay pillowed in the bra, the garment cupping the delicate globes like gentle hands, teasing him, hiding just enough to make his mouth water.
He ached with need. A hunger to touch and caress that sweet flesh all on his own, to tease and taste, rubbing his teeth against the hardened tips just to hear her sudden intakes of breath at the pleasure. He flicked open the front clasp, baring her breasts. Like an offering to the gods, they lay, waiting, the soft, gently curved mounds exposed to his hungry gaze. The rise and fall of her rose-tipped nipples taunted his dry mouth, begging for his tongue.
He swallowed, hard.
Nothing could have stopped his trembling fingers when he reached forward. Letting his knuckles graze the soft flesh, he ground his teeth when she jumped at his touch, a flush of pink surging across the exposed skin.
He caressed the delicate flesh, noting the shiver passing through her body. Stroke after stroke, he teased her, circling one hardened, pebbled tip still waiting for his touch. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, yet he wanted this to last forever. When she arched her body, pressing the softness harder into his hand, he nearly lost all control.
This moment was special. His first time with his Kha-Ib. He would take his time, control his own desire. He teased her sensitive feminine flesh between her now spread thighs, the other fondling the sexiest breasts on two planets.
With a sweep of his tongue, he tasted the salty sweat trailing between them. His eyes fluttered closed, and he relished the taste of her skin. Gods, this was what he’d waited for all of his life. He groaned, his tongue refusing to obey his instruction to wait. Instead, he licked upward, at last closing his lips over the object of his long-suffering desire.
The sound of her moan mixed with his own. She tasted of ambrosia. Sweet, with a hint of salt. With a light scrape of his teeth, he dragged his mouth from one breast to the other, feeding off her plumped, rigid flesh. The dull, throbbing ache in his loin
s intensified, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. She was too perfect. And that perfection was driving him to a precipice he wasn’t ready to reach just yet.
“Ramose,” she murmured as he shifted his weight.
She opened her legs, offering him the cradle of her thighs and hips. He tried to resist, but lust surged through his already heated blood, and he moved over her. The tip of his erection pressed against the center of her core. Her heat radiated outward, searing his determination. He needed to go easy. She’d suffered before. He would not make her suffer again.
With the thought fresh in his mind, he tried to hold back, but her hands grasped at him, pulling him forward. The nipple popped from his mouth when she shifted, and her fingers caught in his hair, drawing his head upward. The kiss she gave him tossed the last bit of his reserves straight into the fire, and he slid forward, searching for that one last source of heat.
Her feminine flesh opened for him, cupping him as though she’d waited only for him. Her eyes shot open, and she groaned into his mouth. Ramose trembled with the need to thrust and take, but he held back. Instead, he swallowed her moans, plundering her mouth.
For thousands of years, he’d waited, never expecting to find the woman meant for him. Yet here she was, in his arms. Nanik. A shudder of pure delight rumbled down his spine and into his loins. He inched further inside her. She was so tight.
She ripped away from his kiss, her body arched upward, her eyes scrunched closed. Gods above, if he hurt her, he’d never survive.
“Tamara,” he growled. “Look at me.”
Her eyes opened, their depths filled with a hunger, which burned as brightly as her soul. And, yet, he was sure there was a shadow of memory in those beautiful eyes.
“Don’t be afraid.” He brushed his fingers down her cheek, the gesture intended to calm her, and, yet, all it did was remind him of the softness of her skin, of the beauty in her heat.
“Not afraid.”
She arched upward, and he clenched his jaw at the effort to remain still. Her muscles tightened, squeezing him in her body’s grasp.
Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) Page 20
