“Dr. Ramy Mustafa.”
She’d heard of him. Who hadn’t? He wasn’t just prolific when it came to publishing papers, he loved to be involved in T.V. documentaries about Egypt, as well. Rumor had it the government wouldn’t approve filming of their antiquities without his involvement.
She took another sip of wine, the sweetness spreading through her body, making her calm, languid. “Which tomb are you looking for?”
I really should already know this information.
But she’d been in such a rush after accepting the job, she hadn’t bothered asking for any details. She’d just been happy to work in the Valley of the Kings.
“I originally asked to explore the new tomb discovered adjacent to Tutankhamen’s, but was declined. I believe, however, that Twosret was buried in the valley, and have a suspicion as to where.”
Rowan frowned. Her specialty was the Old Kingdom, which dated from the third to the sixth dynasties. Twosret was one of the few recorded female pharaohs to rule Egypt, and the final pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty; quite a distance from the pyramid builders Rowan knew best. Then again, the Valley of the Kings had only been used from the Eighteenth Dynasty onwards; Rowan was always going to be out of her depth.
This is why someone else should really be in charge.
Oh, and there it was.
Imposter syndrome.
It didn’t matter that she’d spent close to a decade studying Egypt in its entirety. That her master’s degree had been on Akhenaten, an Eighteenth Dynasty reformer. No, it was because her PhD had been focused on the Old Kingdom and the early pharaohs. That’s where her specialty lay.
That does not make me useless here.
No.
She could do this.
She would do this.
Rowan realized she’d been quiet a little too long. She gave Luke a bright smile and ignored Yael’s worried glance.
“So, when do we start?”
Chapter 11
Lucifer was an ass.
And that scarf was fucking hilarious. Lucifer was the first fallen angel; he didn’t get cold. But three months earlier, Seraphina had nearly decapitated him. Clearly, he still had a scar. Or he was hiding something else.
The weather was way too hot for the neckwear otherwise.
“I have to fly back to Miami tonight, but I will return soon to check on the excavation’s progress,” Luke said. He raised Rowan’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the skin there.
She gave him a warm smile, one Yael thought was largely due to the enchanted wine they’d been given to drink. He’d only had a few sips, but Rowan had finished her entire glass.
She was probably meant to down the whole bottle.
Lucifer’s expression turned smug; he had yet to release the human’s hand.
Yeah, yeah, buddy. We know you’re handsome.
The sex pheromones that Lucifer had been emanating the entire dinner ramped up a notch—even Yael had a hard-on. He touched a hand to Rowan’s lower back, urging her to start walking. She gave a little start of surprise at the contact, her emerald-green eyes growing focused. She stepped away from the Hell-lord and waved goodbye, all sweetness and fucking cotton candy.
Lucifer gave him a look that should have incinerated Yael on the spot, had he the ability.
Yael bared his teeth in a fake smile, his palm still pressed to Rowan’s back. “Nice to meet you.” The lie tasted like sour apples, but it was worth it to see Lucifer’s nostrils flare in anger.
The Hell-lord gave Rowan a lingering smile, then turned on his heel and left.
Finally, he was gone.
I didn’t think that dinner was ever going to end.
He was on edge. The paltry food portions hadn’t done anything to curb his appetite, and the enchanted wine probably hadn’t helped that, either. Then there’d been the demons prowling around the outside of the hotel. At one point, one of them had been so bold as to crawl over the window next to their table.
Yael didn’t know if they worked for Lucifer or not, and he didn’t want to find out.
Rowan shrugged off his hand, and walked toward the hotel elevator, her black dress clinging to the slender curves of her body. Halfway across the lobby, she paused, raising a hand to her head.
He hurried to catch up.
Idiot, you’re meant to be watching for danger, not staring at her ass.
He was just as bad as Lucifer.
And didn’t that put him in a worse mood.
“Are you okay?” He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she slid away, avoiding his palm like it was poison.
“Yeah, I was just a little dizzy, must have stood up too fast.”
He didn’t bother mentioning that she’d been standing for a good few minutes before her dizzy spell came on.
“Let’s get back to the room. Maybe a glass of water will help.”
She nodded, fingers still pressed to her temple.
Within minutes, they were back in the suite, Rowan locked in her room. The sound of water running made him picture her naked, wet, and—
What the fuck are you doing?
Maybe the enchanted wine had an aphrodisiac effect on him, too.
It would certainly explain his derailing thoughts, and the damned hard-on in his pants. He normally wasn’t so easily side-tracked. Or turned on. And not by a human woman, no matter how pretty she was.
Or how strong.
During dinner, he’d been exposed to Lucifer’s attempts at seduction, and they weren’t the normal ‘How you doin’?’ kind. They were magical, imposed. Incubi were supposedly descended from the Hell-lord and Yael could see why.
But Rowan had seemed to just shrug it off, remaining ever polite and calm. She hadn’t shown a single sign of attraction to Lucifer—or Yael, for that matter. Not that someone would pick him over the Hell-lord when it came to appearances. Yael was hot, but Lucifer was the poster boy for physical perfection.
Hrm. Perhaps the archangel Michael was as attractive?
He didn’t know. He didn’t normally check out other men.
Those pheromones must still be working on you.
It was the only explanation for why he was rating archangels based on their level of hotness.
If Dru knew, she’d be laughing her ass off at him.
The water stopped running in Rowan’s room. A few minutes later, she opened the door, towel-drying her darkened red hair. She wore a dressing gown belted tight at the waist.
What a shame.
She stopped when she spotted him, as if surprised to see him in the suite. “What are you doing?”
“I was thinking about dinner and your boss.”
“Right outside my door?” Her eyes narrowed, like he’d been caught perving on her or something.
“Hello? I am next to the fridge.” He opened the door of the bar fridge for emphasis and withdrew a small bottle of spirits. “Closer to the alcohol this way.”
“Hmph.”
“Starre, do you know much about him?” Yael asked, tossing the bottle of Bacardi from hand to hand.
“He’s independently wealthy, likes to collect antiques and artifacts, and is a renowned philanthropist.”
What kind of charities would the Devil decide to sponsor?
Probably best that he didn’t know the answer to that. It would just made him mad.
“Why?” she asked, when he didn’t reply.
“I get the feeling he’s hiding something.”
“Him? What about you?”
“What about me?” He almost dropped the mini Bacardi in surprise.
“You haven’t exactly been forthcoming about your past.”
“I was hired by your grandmother,” he replied, putting the little bottle on the counter. “She knows the relevant information. And you haven’t asked.”
Her cheeks turned rose-colored. It was kind of cute.
No, it’s not anything at all.
He shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
They had an early flight to catch, one he wasn’t looking forward to. Apparently, the metal tube they were going to fly in was even smaller than the one they’d used to get to Egypt.
He let out a soft sigh when she stepped into her bedroom, closed—and presumably—locked the door, shutting him out. He didn’t like how his body reacted to her, and there was only so much he could blame on the tainted wine Lucifer had served them. At least this way, they were separated by a door.
A flimsy door you could kick down in a second.
But a door nonetheless.
I had better go take a cold shower.
First though, he’d ward the suite, so he’d know if anything tried to break in—or if a particular redhead tried to sneak out.
Chapter 12
We made it.
Rowan’s heart did a funny little dance at the sight of the Valley of the Kings spread out before her, a beige sea of sand and pebbles. Beneath it, limestone and shale comprised the foundation of the sixty-three known tombs. Most of them had been pillaged in the centuries since their creation.
Hopefully there’ll be sixty-four tombs by the end of the dig.
Oh, it would be the archaeological find of the century. And she would have shared in the experience. Even her grandmother would have to be proud of her, she who placed little value on history if it couldn’t earn decent money.
Rowan’s gaze tracked over the dry river valley, taking in every detail. The spoil piles of alluvial rubble and sand from earlier excavations, the worn slopes that highlighted previous floods, the exposed tombs, and the tourists. She’d been here before—but as a visitor. She felt like she was seeing things for the first time, the analytical part of her brain going into overdrive.
She’d done it.
She was here.
Eric would be so proud of her.
Emotion choked her at the thought of her him, but she fought back the tears that threatened to turn her into a blotchy mess. He was gone, she couldn’t change that. But she knew he would have been delighted with her for coming here, for taking this opportunity. Hell, he probably would have volunteered to travel with her.
I’d have Eric by my side rather than…him.
Yael.
She had ignored her bodyguard for most of the day. She knew it was childish, but she hadn’t appreciated how he’d made her feel last night—like she was an idiot for working for Luke. It wasn’t like Yael knew anything about the man, either. He just hadn’t seemed to like him. And that shouldn’t mean anything to her; she didn’t know much about her bodyguard, either, so it wasn’t as if she should trust his judgement over her own.
And she was usually a pretty good judge of character.
Which is why I am suspicious of Yael.
Or maybe it was because she didn’t wholly trust men who were so good looking, they could attract women just by breathing?
“This place isn’t great for defensive purposes,” Yael said, breaking the silence between them.
She glanced over her shoulder, taking in his tall form. He was wearing sunglasses again and dressed in black like the night before. But he didn’t have a speck of sweat on his face, while her cheeks were turning lobster-red in the heat.
“It’s a cemetery site. Why would they have thought about defensive purposes when building it?” This was a place of rest, a place where the ancient Egyptians had buried their dead so that they could live their second lives—well, mythical second lives.
“Considering the majority of the tombs here have been looted, it’s probably something they should have spent some time on.”
She hated to admit he was correct, so she decided to say nothing at all.
“Do you know where we’ll be staying? Do we have to camp here?” He rubbed his chin.
“No, there’s a dig house about five minutes away by car.” It had been built by Luke opposite Howard Carter House—they’d passed the mostly demountable structure on the way to the valley.
“We should go check out our accommodation, then.”
She nodded. Her bags were no doubt baking in the back of the car they’d hired at Luxor. They strode back through the valley, passing the entrance to the resting place of Tutankhamen, the boy king who’d become famous beyond belief, all because his tomb had been discovered intact. No one ever really talked about his father, Akhenaten, who was far more interesting, at least in her opinion.
Yael shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, I hear most of the people who found Tutankhamen died horribly.”
What a way to make conversation.
“Approximately ten people died shortly after the tomb was opened, but Howard Carter, the archaeologist who discovered the tomb, lived for another sixteen years. That’s hardly everyone, considering there were around sixty people on site at the time.”
“But ten people died.”
“Of malaria, or arsenic poisoning, or assassination. I think there was a suicide or two, as well. They are hardly the results of a curse.”
Of course, Gran probably had a thing or two to say about that, but since Gran’s magic was mostly nonsense, Rowan doubted it had anything to do with reality.
“Curses aren’t always obvious things.”
“Oh really?” A thought occurred to her. She stopped walking, even though they were almost back at the visitor’s carpark. “You think they’re real.”
Yael paused. “I think there’s a lot of things out there that can’t be easily explained through science, and I think they deserve some respect and wariness.”
He’s being honest.
She didn’t know how she knew that, just that it was so. He seriously thought that science couldn’t account for everything. “You’re not a conspiracy theorist, are you?”
If he tried to tell her that the pyramids were built by aliens…
He laughed and started walking again. “No. Do you know how hard it would be to pull off some of those conspiracies? It would take teams of people working around the clock to keep the truth from people.”
“You sound like you’ve thought about that a lot.”
“Just a little bit.”
Funny, she hadn’t picked Yael as the introspective type. He seemed all brash and bluster—like his every thought would soon emerge uncensored from his mouth.
They reached the Renault, and Yael motioned for her to drive. She thought it was a nice change, that he let her take charge. Most of her male colleagues insisted on being behind the wheel, even if they could barely keep the car between the lines. She’d thought it was a guy thing—an inbuilt chauvinism—but Yael proved that wasn’t the case. It was just a ‘them’ thing; their egos were too fragile to let the woman drive, since she might be better.
It took a bare five minutes for them to reach the dig house—or more accurate, compound—and she pulled into the parking area. They were met by a short woman with shiny brown hair, a delicate nose complete with glittering stud, and an easy smile.
“Dr. Broome?”
Rowan straightened, pulling her laptop bag’s strap higher on her shoulder. “Hello, yes, that’s me.” She smiled—smiling always seemed to help with these things.
The brunette returned a dazzling grin, transforming her from pretty into lovely. “Excellent. I’m Kayla Perkins, well, Dr. Perkins. But call me Kayla. I’m an archaeologist, too.” She thrust out a hand, which Rowan shook. Her accent was strange—a little Egyptian, a little American, with a dash of British.
Kayla’s eyes widened when Yael turned around, backpack on, gym bag slung over one shoulder, and a suitcase in each hand. “Who is that?”
“That is my…uh…assistant. Mr. Death.” She deliberately mispronounced it.
Rowan swore she could hear Yael’s teeth grinding from the other side of the Renault.
Kayla’s eyes widened. “Death? Your surname is Death? That is so cool.”
Yael shook his head. “It’s pronounced Deeth, like teeth.”
“Oh.” Her expression fell, like she was disappointed that his surname wasn’t macabre.
“But it’s spelled death,” Rowan murmured.
Kayla’s smile returned. “I’ll take that as a good omen.”
“Omen?”
“We’re going to need all the help we can get. We did some G.P.R. scanning, which shows there are some subterranean chambers, but we don’t know if it Twosret’s tomb or not.”
A tall, stick-thin man strode into view, a pair of glasses perched on his beaklike nose. “It’s not Twosret.”
“You don’t know that.” Kayla scowled.
“Her mummy has already been found.”
“Pfft. That is just a theory, one that isn’t supported by the D.N.A. or any other evidence.”
“We know that her tomb was stolen and reused by Setnakhte, her successor, and that she was reburied elsewhere.”
“Yes, but her husband, Seti II, was reburied in KV15, and Twosret wasn’t. Her followers could have moved her body to a new tomb after Setnakhte rose to power. It’s been done before.”
Yael’s brow furrowed. “KV15?”
“KV stands for Kings Valley, and the number is the numeral assigned to the tomb,” Rowan explained.
“Right.” He removed his sunglasses, his hazel gaze direct. “So what number are we searching for?”
“Sixty-four.”
“Well then, let’s get to it.”
Kayla clapped her hands. “I like your attitude. Now, come inside. Don’t mind the stork-man there, he’s a stick in the mud.”
“I heard that.” The stranger held out a hand. “I’m Dr. Colin Murdoch.”
Rowan shook it. His grip was firm but not overbearing, like he had nothing to prove. It made her like him instantly. “Dr. Broome.”
“Nice to meet you. I heard you were doing research on the sarcophagus of Menes…”
She smiled. Yes, this was going to be wonderful. Surrounded by like-minded colleagues, and in a place that spoke to her soul. It would be good to be here. Even with Yael hovering over her like a worried parent.
Ascending Passion Page 6
