Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri)

by Teresa D'Amario

  She shrugged. “No one ever does.” She slid her eyes to the side, not wanting to see the sympathy or disbelief.

  He touched her chin, tipping her face toward his, to meet his steady regard. “I am not everyone else. Always know I will never doubt you.”

  She nodded and studied his gaze. No sympathy. No disbelief. What she saw instead was trust. He was right. He wasn’t like everyone else she’d met. He had his own talents that no one else shared, and a completely different viewpoint. Of course, he believed her. She’d been a fool, worrying about nothing. She gave him a small smile.

  “Good,” he said.

  Her fingers traced the small crescent tattoo on his face. It always moved when he smile, giving him a ‘devil may care’ look. “What is this?”

  He shrugged. “Just a mark. Similar to an ancient tribal mark. Does it bother you?”

  She grinned and shook her head, her nail gently tracing the moon-shaped image. “Not at all. In fact, it’s very sexy.”

  His lips curved into a crooked grin, and again, the tiny mark raised, adding to the glitter in his eyes. “Good. I’d hate to have it removed. It would leave a scar.” He pulled away from her and unzipped the small black leather sport bag he’d brought with him from his trip. He seemed on edge. Not like he was when danger surrounded them, but more as if he was uncomfortable with her.

  Her nerves jangled as he reached into the bag.

  “Now that we have everything settled, I have something for you.” He drew out a small blue velvet box.

  “A gift?” she asked in surprise, her concerns forgotten. Pleasure warmed her insides, as if she wasn’t warm enough just having Ramose in the room. The small blue box resembled a jewelry box, only the shape was more rectangular than square.

  She popped open the snap and drew back the velvet lid. An exotic scent rolled through the air from a small crystal bottle filled with a light golden liquid.

  “Perfume?” she asked in surprise. “I thought you like my natural scent.”

  “Not perfume,” he said, taking a step closer. “A blend of essential oils. This bottle is for your bath, to help you relax.”

  “Oh, right,” she smiled. “Thank you.” She moved to place it on the dresser when she his hand stayed her.

  “No, use it now…for me.” The tone of his voice drew her, and she turned.

  “Now? You want me to take a bath now?”

  He nodded, his face solemn.

  “Did you know the ancient Egyptians were so enamored of essential oils and their effects it had its own god?”

  She shook her head.

  “His name is Nefertem. For good health and to worship him, the Egyptians were taught to have a bath and a massage every day.”

  “So…” She frowned, confused. “You want me to take a bath?”

  He moved another step closer and dipped his head to hers, his breath a whisper against her lips. “Not just a bath, an experience.” His eyes twinkled. “If I could offer you the bathing rooms of Ancient Egypt, I would, but, for now, you will have to do with Selket’s tub.” He touched his lips to hers, light, teasing. Provocative. “Add this to the water, and, while you bathe, relax and breathe in the fragrance. It is blended special for you and only you.”

  Tamara stared into his eyes. She still didn’t know what he was doing, but she liked it. A man taking care of her? And not even ashamed to do so when at another’s home. She smiled. It was nice to see a man willing to take care of her, no matter where they were. Ramose did so without batting an eye.

  Her gaze dropped to his lips. So cool, so inviting. She closed the gap.

  His kiss was restrained, yet beneath she could sense the power he withheld, the hunger buried beneath that layer of control. What would it be like to see him lose that layer of control? She shivered, both excited and fearful at the possibility.

  When he folded her into his arms, pressing her against the hard planes of muscle, her body melted, molding to his, hungry for his touch. The taste of wild desert storms whirled through her senses, dulling her mind until all that remained was Ramose. When he lifted his head, she fought back the whimper of disappointment.

  “And just what are you going to be doing during this bath?”

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. He tapped her nose. “Waiting right here for you.” He cupped her face and touched his lips to hers one last time before dropping his hands to his side and stepping back.

  This had to be the strangest thing anyone had done for her, yet somehow also the sweetest.

  “Just a bath?”

  “Just a bath,” he agreed. “I would give you attendants to bathe you and relax you if I could, but…” He shrugged.

  She opened the bottle and sniffed the aroma from the golden liquid inside. Strong, but not overwhelming. Sexy, yet with the innocence of cucumber and the girlishness of watermelon. She couldn’t fight back the smile tugging the corners of her mouth.

  “All right,” she said at last, giving a nod. “I’ll go take a bath. And you, I want you to relax as well.”

  “Your wish,” he said, offering her a bow with a grin, “is my command.”

  As Tamara moved into the bathroom, Ramose added, “Take your time. Enjoy the fragrance and let it wash over you. Let it heal your aches and ease your tired muscles. Allow Nefertem’s teachings to heal your body,” he said. And, as she closed the door, he added, “And your soul.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Tamara stepped into the darkened bedroom, her body still warm and relaxed from the bath Ramose had been so determined she take. A towel draped about her body, hiding very little. She’d been so surprised at Ramose’s gift she hadn’t even brought a change of clothes or a robe inside with her. Instead, she’d lost herself in the sensual scent he’d gifted her, letting it overtake her mind and body, just like he’d asked. Her limbs were loose and free, her body warm and silky smooth. Heat coiled low in her belly, hungry for Ramose’s touch.

  She wished she had sexy lingerie, wanting to ensure he saw her only as a woman, and not as the Axriad he’d claimed her to be when they met.

  Candles flickered all around the otherwise sparse bedroom. She didn’t need to search for Ramose. His essence pulled at her from the shadows, dragging her hidden desires to the surface. In the dark, she couldn’t see his eyes, yet she knew they watched her move toward him, caressing every curve of her body with his gaze. She gripped the towel like a lifeline, guarding her from the one thing she desired most. Ramose.

  She stopped at the foot of the bed, basking in the energy rolling between them. It encircled her, wrapping her in the power he wore like cologne, in the hunger he emanated. Her own body burned, starved for the touch his gaze promised.

  There was no room for the Axriad he’d once called her. Everything about him radiated masculine hunger. She inhaled, searching for his scent, instead finding only the sensuous mix of fragrances as the bath oil.

  “Where did you get that fragrance?” she asked. Her voice was low and, if she did say so herself, sexy.

  He cleared his throat. “Aromatherapy essences. Just like the bath oil, I blended these just for you. It’s the scientist in me.” Soft laughter purred in his voice.

  He stood, taking a single step into the light. His bare, bronzed chest glowed in the flicker of candlelight, defining every ridge and hollow of muscle across his body. She let her gaze trail downward, an appreciative smile on her lips. Downward, the well-defined stomach. Damn, he was sexy. His skin glistened with soft shimmering moisture in the muted light. She knew he didn’t get hot like most men, the cold which clung so close to his body kept him comfortable. No, he’d used oil himself. The thought of the sensual slide of two bodies together sent a shockwave of hunger down her body, settling in her loins.

  Gold glittered along his narrow hips, and her eyes widened as she dropped her gaze even further. He wasn’t wearing shorts like she’d expected. And he wasn’t a brief’s man either. Instead, he wore a linen Egyptian kilt, held together with a golden be
lt, its buckle a replica of the Napshua he wore upon his arm. The white folds of the pleated cloth hung to mid-thigh, exposing his long, powerful legs to her view. She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. The sensual heat burning in her blood coiled deep in her stomach, building from the inside out.

  Tamara raised her gaze to meet his. Dark, green eyes looked back at her, burning with hunger.

  “Come here.” The words were soft, but the command clear.

  Refusing wasn’t an option. Her body moved without her telling her muscles to obey. His gaze held her, teased her, and intensified the hunger burning in her body. As she drew near, he hooked an arm about her waist, yanking her against his cool, hard body. She gasped, shocked, yet pleased. She shouldn’t be. She should be afraid of him when he grew aggressive, yet nothing he did frightened her.

  “Stop it,” he demanded. “Stop it, right now.”

  She frowned. “Stop what?”

  “Stop comparing. I see it in your eyes, the flash of pain, the moment when your mind begins to work. I know what happened to you.”

  When she moved to speak, he silenced her with a finger against her lips.

  “You did nothing wrong. When I find the bastard, he’ll pay for what he has done. He will die. I won’t have you thinking of what he did when I’m touching you.”

  “But I—”

  “Can’t help it?” he asked. His face grew hard, but his eyes still burned with emotion and desire. “You can, Tamara. And I’ll help you. Last night you gave me everything I ever desired. My every fantasy came to life before my eyes. Every fantasy but one.”

  Tamara’s heart felt like it was doing somersaults in her chest, pounding hard with arousal, excitement, and even a little fear. This wasn’t the Ramose of her dreams, despite the white linen he wore. No, this was a different man. One more powerful, more demanding, and one who wanted her.

  “All but one?” she asked, her voice breathless.

  He brushed his lips against hers then whispered in her ear. “All but the one where my woman is lost in pleasure, where she screams for me, begs for me. You will, today, Kha-Ib. I will hear you call out my name as you come.”

  Tamara gulped hard. His breath feathered across her face, shooting bolts of pleasure down her spine with every word. Her knees buckled until only his arms held her upright.

  “I will?” Her voice was a breathy whisper, her mind unable to fathom the promise he’d given.

  “Oh, yes,” he murmured. “I told you last night you will crave my touch before I am through.”

  He brushed his lips against hers. At last, he drew close enough so the heavy scent of candles didn’t interfere. Tamara inhaled, savoring the hot, wild spice of his scent. It rolled inside her, swirling the already ignited heat buried deep in her core. Lust exploded, searing her to her core. A soft moan whispered from her throat unchecked.

  His lips teased and caressed a moment longer, soft against her mouth, yet she knew the power and strength he held inside. Hungry to taste him, she opened, inviting, no, begging for more. To give more. And he did. He delved in, devouring her mouth and soul with a sweep of his tongue. The sensation of his cool touch against her heat was sharp, the contrast invigorating and arousing. She’d never expected this, a soul mate with the power to control cold and ice. Nor would she have thought it would be so erotic. Her body melted into his, molding to his every angle and curve, hungry to feel every inch of him tight against her.

  The hard ridge of his hunger pressed against her belly, but there he wasn’t cold. No, there was nothing but heat. Hungry, smoldering heat. Her fingers tightened on his waist, grasping the white linen. Her palms itched to take him in her hands, to stroke the hot, velvet-covered steel of his body.

  As though he knew her thoughts, he encircled her wrists and broke the kiss. His mouth whispered close to hers. So erotically close. “Not tonight,” he growled. “Tonight, I pleasure you.” With a quick movement, he trapped both her hands behind her.

  “Let me touch you,” she groaned. He smiled, the curve of his lips brushing hers. She lunged to kiss him, but he pulled back.

  He shook his head. “Lie on the bed,” he commanded. He released her and stepped back. “Face down.”

  Again, he stopped her from speaking. “Trust me, Kha-Ib.”

  Tamara gasped, her lips parted, her eyes focused on his mouth. She wanted more. Not just his kiss, but everything. What was wrong with her? She’d never been this aroused. It couldn’t be natural.

  “What did you put in that oil?” Fear edged into her mind. He wouldn’t drug her, would he?

  “Nothing but a few fragrances designed to mix with your own natural scent.”

  She stepped back, shaking her head. “But I…” How could she tell him what she truly felt?

  “Tamara.” His voice was soft, so soft she had to strain to hear him. “You are relaxed is all. It’s perfectly natural. Focusing only on you and I, nothing more, makes it easier to relax. There’s nothing to fear.”

  He moved close to her again, folding her into his arms. “I promise you,” he murmured in her ear, “there is nothing in the oil to affect your thoughts or desires. Everything you feel is natural.” His lips trailed along her neck, leaving soft kisses, sending shivers of desire down her spine.

  “Come,” he whispered, his arm wrapped around her waist. He escorted her to the side of the bed. “On your stomach. Let me give you the same pleasure you gave me yesterday.”

  He was right. Even now, with confusion and the trickle of fear moving along the edges of her mind, she still wanted him. And not just for his body, though that was pretty darned hot. No. She wanted all of him. His body. His heart. And his soul.

  “Please,” he murmured.

  This was her time. Hers and Ramose’s. The past was the past, and nothing could change it. She couldn’t let her fears get the better of her. His words played in her mind. “…where my woman is lost in pleasure, where she screams for me, begs for me. You will, today, Kha-Ib. You will.”

  Tamara laid her palm in his, smiling at the relief flashing through his eyes. She climbed into bed, and, with a last look over her shoulder, she lay down.

  He reached into a drawer in the bedside table, removing a small jar. He screwed off the cap and dipped his hand inside.

  Tamara trembled. Nerves? Anticipation? Maybe both.

  His palms whispered together as he distributed a soft, delicately scented white lotion over his hands.

  He moved beside her, gripping the towel and tugging it from her body. She tensed when cool air swept over her exposed skin.

  “Trust me.”

  She closed her eyes, forcing her muscles to relax, but still gasped and jerked when his chilled hands first touched her body. He waited until she settled.

  When next his hands moved, they swept along her legs in long, comforting sweeps, his cool palms easing the tight muscles. Each gentle touch held the promise of passion. He moved higher along her thighs, stirring her already heightened arousal with his caress.

  “Years past,” he said, his voice soft and soothing, “the Egyptian god, Nefertem, taught the nobles to have a massage every day in order to remain healthy. He gave sound advice for someone so ancient.”

  His low voice worked magic, soothing her nerves.

  He didn’t wait for her to respond, but kept speaking.

  “The ancients did not understand the reasons behind Nefertem’s teachings, and I often wonder if perhaps he really existed. In many ways, he pushed them forward with his commands of cleanliness and medicine.”

  But it wasn’t Nefertem Tamara was thinking about when Ramose’s hands skimmed along her ass, his body moving to straddle her. The cool touch of his bare thighs pressed against her heated flesh. He worked her back with long, gentle strokes, and she moaned. The illusion of relaxation disappeared, leaving only the building desire swirling low in her body. When he leaned forward, his breath warm against her neck, she fought the urge to arch into him.

  “The ancients believed the massage was f
or relaxation, but didn’t understand its full effects and how it clears your body’s energy.”

  “Hmm.” She struggled to pay attention his words, but his strong hands were working magic, not relaxing her, but arousing her with his simple touch.

  “Does this feel good?” he asked, his breath whispering across her neck.

  She nodded.

  His wet tongue trailed down her back. Heat sizzled along her spine, wrapping around and nesting deep within. She bit her lip, fighting the moan building inside her.

  “And does that make you feel good as well?”

  She laughed, hiding the hiccupping sob of desire in her throat. “Maybe you should try it again so I can be sure.”

  “My pleasure.”

  His tongue left another wet trail along her flesh, and she gave herself over to the sensation of cold on hot. This time, she couldn’t hold back the pitiful moan fighting to be heard. He slid back again, working on the muscles of her buttocks. Each gentle squeeze accented the hollow ache building inside. She needed…to touch him. To feel him skin to skin, from shoulder to toe. This was torture, lying here, giving him freedom to touch her when she wanted to reciprocate.

  The strokes of his hands drew closer and closer to the juncture of her thighs. Each stroke, she arched into his palms, hungry for more.

  He drew back, lifting himself from her body. She groaned in disappointment.

  “Roll over,” he said.

  He’d taken her towel. Up until this moment, she’d had the illusion of privacy, her face tucked into a pillow, her breasts pressed into the bed. The illusion would be shattered when she rolled over. What the hell. He’d had his hands all over her nude body for the last twenty minutes. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her before.

  She rolled, fighting the urge to cover herself. She couldn’t avoid his gaze by hiding her face now.

  In seconds, the point became moot as Ramose crawled up her body, his breath mingling with hers.

  “Just feel, Tamara,” he said, his breath tickled across her face, like soft lotus petals fluttering across her cheek.

  Tamara arched toward him, hungry for his weight against her, yet he held himself apart, only his lips teasing her skin. Her arms ached to hold him. Grabbing him, she jerked him down to her, his eyes widened in surprise before he laughed.