Ascending Passion

by Amanda Pillar

She had to know.

  Was this Twosret, or something—someone— else entirely?

  Chapter 33

  There is definitely something hinky going on with the tomb, Yael thought.

  Each night, the two workers assigned to their trench forget they’d spent the day excavating there—rather they remembered being on site, but thought they’d spent the day shoveling dirt to clear out parts of Nefertiti’s tomb, which didn’t have any soil to shovel.

  Only Yael and Rowan seemed to remember the time with any accuracy.

  As for the demon archaeologists, they would come over, get an update, and disappear again, like nothing had happened. Considering the excitement that had pulsed through the site at the discovery of the first tomb, it was surprising they weren’t more interested in the second. Especially since this might actually be Twosret’s burial chamber, whereas the first clearly wasn’t.

  “So, what do you think?” Yael asked Rowan. He was sitting at her desk, going over the emails on his Mac. Need to kill a Goram demon; Want stolen artifact stolen back; Ex needs murdering. Same shit, day in, day out. Usually Raze dealt with the admin crap of the Falling Star guild, but he was knee-deep in books getting his nerd on.

  “I honestly don’t know.” Rowan emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and with damp hair. She picked up a brush and attacked her head with it; that was the best way to describe the vigorous movements. No gentle brushing here. Despite her contained violence, it felt intimate, this moment, where he would wait for her like a lover would, at the end of a long day.

  Stop thinking like that.

  Yeah, he realized that was a losing battle.

  He was coming to understand that Rowan had somehow gotten under his skin—an itch he couldn’t scratch. Even after he finished the job, he knew he wasn’t about to forget her any time soon, even if he did regain his wings through some miracle.

  And you won’t be able to have sex with her then.

  Unions between angels and humans were forbidden.

  Just like unions between angels and demons, but look at Azrael and Dru, Z and Peony, Seraphina and Trick.

  That last one made him scowl. They were a different case. Plus, he thought Trick should have been dropped in the bottom of a Hell-chasm, not rewarded for being an ass.

  He closed his laptop and turned the chair to face her. “What are you unsure about?”

  She dragged the brush through a knot, screwing up her face in the process. “The curse. It’s wrong.”

  “How is it wrong? It’s a curse.” And it had blazed with magic under the Clear Sight spell. It was one hundred percent still active. He was going to have to try and convince Campbell to come and check it out before Rowan opened the damned door, because he had no idea if she would be classified as ‘approved’ by the enchantment. It wasn’t like there’d been a list of criteria.

  “It’s from the wrong era,” she replied. “We might be looking at a pharaoh from the Middle Kingdom, or earlier, rather than Twosret.”

  He folded his hands over his stomach and fought a grin when her gaze followed his movement, lingering there. So, she wasn’t unaffected by him. It was nice to know it went both ways. “But they didn’t start burying people in the valley until the Late Kingdom.”

  She looked impressed. “I always forget how much you know.”

  “Like to believe I don’t read books because I’m hot?”

  She blushed.

  He smirked.

  “So how do you know ancient Egyptian?”

  She’d asked him this more than once, and he finally had an answer that wasn’t a lie. “My parents were very keen on my education. They wanted me to learn a number of dead languages, specifically Latin, Ancient Greek and so on. I picked ancient Egyptian to annoy them.”

  “You learned hieroglyphics just to annoy them?” She dropped her hairbrush on the bed.

  He shrugged. “Languages like Latin and Ancient Greek find correlations in modern dialects. Egyptian tends to stand on its own. It’s not that useful.”

  “And they wanted you to learn something useful.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you said you speak over thirty languages.”

  “I do.” He read a lot more, but she seemed to think thirty was a big deal, so he didn’t bother to correct her. She’d have a conniption if she knew how many Raze could understand.

  “So, you learned Latin in the end?”

  He nodded. “I did. My parents are hard to refuse.”

  Narcissists, the both of them. Not that they would identify themselves as such, but then, no narcissist ever did.

  Yael was simply a tool that had been birthed to increase their power and prestige in Heaven. When he had failed them—which he had, regularly—it brought shame on them. His feelings and thoughts on the matter were irrelevant. Even his grandfather had turned away from him, no doubt due to the vitriol spewed by his parents. He had probably wanted to distance himself from the mess.

  Yael had long thought he’d stopped caring for their opinions, but he’d been lying to himself. When he’d made the Darts, he’d figured that would finally prove himself to them and to his favorite grandparent, but it hadn’t. He hadn’t been given the rank of captain, and therefore he had failed his parents yet again. Grandfather had had no comment.

  He’d finally—really—stopped trying after that.

  That’s why he’d approached Gabriel. He wanted to be the master of his own future; his parents be damned. They’d never done anything positive for him anyway, just bemoan his lack of everything.

  They no doubt have publicly denounced me.

  He would expect no less.

  “Yael?” Rowan waved a hand in front of his face.

  He grabbed her wrist out of reflex, and the familiar tingle spread through his palm at the contact. Originally, it had annoyed him, but now he was beginning to enjoy it, despite the fact it sent a message straight to his dick.

  “What?”

  She turned her hand in his grip and he released it. “You zoned out.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What were you thinking about?” She rubbed her wrist, and he worried that he’d hurt her, but there weren’t any marks left behind.

  Maybe she feels it, too.

  “My parents.”

  “You don’t get along?”

  “That’s a polite way to phrase it.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her eyes turned sad.

  “Why? It’s not your fault.” He stood. No, the only people responsible for his relationship with his parents were his parents.

  He opened the door and she grabbed a light sweater. They headed out into the night together.

  She hugged her arms around her torso. “My parents died when I was young. I was raised by my grandmother.”

  He knew he was meant to feel sorry for her, but he would have been nothing but thankful if his parents had had an unfortunate accident when he was younger.

  Yeah, because that’s a healthy thought process.

  He opted for humor. “Raised by Dora. That would have been a challenge.”

  Rowan shot him a look. “She lets you call her Dora?”

  “Is that a thing?”

  “It means she likes you.”

  Why did he feel like that was more a burden rather than a blessing?

  They reached the mess hall to find Azrael and Dru leaving. “Good guard work,” Yael muttered to Dru. Shoving her face full of food when she was meant to be patrolling.

  “What?” The cambion rolled her eyes. “She is super-safe here. This place is like a damned fortress. And I know: Yael and I broke into one not long ago.”

  Rowan’s eyes went wide. “You broke into a fortress?”

  Yael lifted an eyebrow and shot Azrael a telepathic message. Dru really needs to watch her mouth.

  Azrael gave a mental shrug. Dru is Dru. And Rowan will learn the truth one day. It’s inevitable, with her background.

  “I
t was for a job,” Dru explained. “I don’t just go around breaking into stuff. Or killing people for fun. It’s a lot of hard work.”

  “Hard work?” Rowan echoed.

  “Yeah, there were mon—” Dru caught Yael’s cut-it-out look. “Money launderers and booby traps. Horrifying stuff.”

  Money launderers? He asked Azrael.

  Be glad that’s what she came out with.

  “Gotta go. Bye.” Dru waggled her fingers and slid past them. Azrael followed.

  Rowan turned to Yael. “Money laundering made breaking into a fortress difficult?”

  “I try not to ask too many questions when it comes to Dru. It’s a recipe for a headache.” He went straight for the food, serving up a huge plate of everything and heading for one of the long tables. He sat down and was joined soon after by Kayla and a thoughtful-looking Rowan.

  “How’s the digging going?” Kayla asked, nudging Rowan in the shoulder, like there was a joke to be made.

  “Excellent.” Rowan bit into some pita bread, then scooped up some lentil stuff with a fork.

  “Really? Have you found anything?”

  Rowan lowered her cutlery to the plate. “Yes, I told you at lunch we’ve reached the bottom of the staircase.”

  “You did?” Kayla rubbed her forehead, her bright green eyes dimming slightly. “I must have forgotten.”

  Yep. There was definitely something funny about that tomb, and he had a feeling he knew what it was.

  Chapter 34

  The severed arm flew at her face, hot blood pouring from the wound, spraying her clothing, her hair, her skin. Rowan gagged as some trickled into her mouth. Rotten meat and dirt and dust permeating her tongue; this was how death would taste, she knew.

  No. I don’t want to die.

  She threw her arms up over her eyes, trying to avoid being splattered with more gore. But then she was drenched again, covered in dark, sticky fluid. She looked over her shoulder at the source of it, and saw Eric, an empty bucket held in his arms, blood drip-drip-dripping onto the grass below.

  She screamed, “NO!”

  “Rowan!”

  Strong hands gripped her shoulders and shook, jerking her awake. Rowan gasped desperately for clean, untainted air, and breathed deep. The scent of lavender and bay rum reached her.

  Yael.

  She threw her body into his arms, wrapping around him like a limpet. He went rigid, arms held out awkwardly to the sides, but she didn’t care. His heart beat strongly against her ear, as she pressed her face into his chest. The familiar electrical zap shot through her, but she welcomed it. It meant she was alive, that this was real. Her whole body sang with it, but that sensation paled in comparison to the overriding feeling of safety that his embrace gave her.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked

  She shook her head. “Not really.” She didn’t want to have relive the dream, or Eric’s part in it.

  “Okay.”

  She stayed wrapped in his arms until her heartbeat slowed down, and her mind grew foggy with sleep. She pulled away and crawled back under the blankets, facing Yael, who sat on the edge of her bed, barely visible in the dim light.

  “Can you stay here?”

  “I won’t leave the room.”

  “No, here.” She patted the bed.

  For a moment, a pained expressed crossed his face, like he would refuse. Her eyes burned at the idea she would have to sleep alone, that she might fall back into the nightmare. She would be safe from the dark dreams if Yael stayed with her.

  Something in her expression must have registered, because he sighed. “All right.” A few seconds later, he was lying on his side next to her. “Turn over.”

  She did. His left arm wrapped over her waist, and she snuggled back into him. His warmth was luxurious; she hadn’t noticed how cold she was—both inside and out. She pressed more firmly against him and blushed in the darkness. He’s got an erection. Heat burned through her, and she had to fight the urge to press her butt more firmly against it. Until now, she’d thought the electricity between them only affected her. Maybe he feels it, too?

  Or maybe, the more rational part of her brain snapped, he got hard because he’s lying in bed next to a woman who begged him to be there.

  Sleep claimed her in a sudden wave.

  *

  The next morning, Rowan figured she should feel embarrassed about how she’d used Yael for comfort. But she’d slept the best she had since she’d arrived in Egypt—hell, since she’d learned about Eric’s death. She wasn’t about to apologize for that.

  Although he had been a little crankier than usual this morning.

  Probably because you slept and he didn’t.

  She couldn’t be one hundred percent sure of that, but she knew he rarely slept at night, and he’d already been awake and ready when she rolled out of bed this morning. She hated to think about how little sleep he would have had in the past month and a bit.

  All because of her.

  He seemed to tolerate it well enough, except for when he’d left and gotten Dru and Azrael to watch over her for that short period of time. She figured they’d decided to stay because of the cult’s attack, even though there’d been no sign of violence since.

  Azrael and Yael don’t seem to talk much.

  When he’d opened up about his parents, he hadn’t even mentioned Azrael in the conversation. Perhaps his brother had been treated differently? Or did they have a strained relationship, too?

  She could ask, but she had the feeling today was not the day. Yael’s posture was ramrod straight, and his black mood was infecting the other archaeologists.

  The blue van—their white one had been too damaged by the cult—pulled up at the valley and they all climbed out. Dr. Murdoch stretched his long limbs before he loped away, toward the marquee, which was still standing despite the blustery weather.

  They followed at a slower pace.

  “I have no idea how he is a morning person. He hasn’t even had a coffee.” Kayla took a sip out of her stainless-steel travel mug, holding it with both hands like it was the one ring to rule them all.

  “What number coffee is that this morning?” Rowan asked, pulling her hat down lower as the wind swept over them. She shivered. It hasn’t been this cold since we’ve been here. It was like the weather had decided to throw in the towel for the day.

  “Four.” Kayla shot her a look. “Don’t judge me. I can see you judging me. This isn’t even an addiction. It’s a need.”

  Rowan laughed, and it felt good, free. She was so lucky that Kayla had been assigned to the excavation as well. Dr. Murdoch was nice, in his own way, but Campbell and Mustafa ignored her unless absolutely necessary. It was fine when Dr. Campbell chose to do that, but she was meant to be co-directing with the Egyptian archaeologist.

  To be fair, she’d kind of given up on that since she started working on her trench.

  He didn’t want her help, and she was too busy keeping an eye on everything in T1 to worry about what they were doing in KV64—Nefertiti’s tomb. Yes, yes, they hadn’t determined if it was hers yet, but Rowan was pretty sure she was right.

  They reached the marquee and Kayla finished her coffee in one huge gulp, before she set the mug aside and headed off in the direction of the opened tomb. Dr. Campbell and Dr. Mustafa were already near the entrance.

  “I just need to ask Campbell something,” Yael said, and hurried after them.

  Rowan was left with Dru and Azrael. “Do you know what he needs from Dr. Campbell?”

  “Nope.” Azrael shook his head.

  “Maybe he needs a blow—”

  Azrael shot his lover a chastising look. “Dru.”

  Dru sighed. “Fine. Anyway, it’s not as much fun to pick on him when he can’t hear it.”

  Almost at the tomb’s door, Yael raised his arm and flipped them the bird.

  “He heard that?” Rowan asked.

  “Lucky guess,” Dru
muttered darkly.

  “Have fun patrolling the site.” Rowan gave them a small wave and walked off toward T1. Her two workers were nowhere in sight—probably over by the main tomb—but that was okay. They had managed to clear out the remaining dirt, and Rowan had recorded all the survey stuff yesterday.

  Now she just needed to photograph it all and have another read of the hieroglyphs on the door. At the edge of the trench, she pulled out her cell and texted Luke again, but there was no immediate response. With a shrug, she shoved the phone in her pocket and climbed down the ladder. She then descended the ten steps to the door.

  Nothing had changed. She read the sections of text that stated the person interred was a child of A’aru and that set out the curse. A very faint smear of color was apparent on the curse, and Rowan pulled on some gloves, before reaching out to touch the carvings.

  She’d just made contact when Yael jerked her hand away. “What are you doing?”

  “There was some color here…” She turned and was taken aback by the anger that burned in his eyes.

  “I am allowed to touch it. I was wearing gloves.” She held up her free hand.

  His expression didn’t ease.

  “What do I have to come and see?” Dr. Campbell asked, puffing as he climbed down the ladder and into the trench. Irritation was etched into every line of the man’s body. “Everyone knows there’s nothing here—” The archaeologist’s eyes widened as he took in the door. “There’s something here?”

  Yael let go of her arm. “There’s something here.”

  “Move outta the way.” Kayla practically jumped down the ladder into the trench, shoving Dr. Campbell to the side with her shoulder. Confusion darkened her face for a few moments before it cleared into excitement. “There’s a door!”

  “There’s a door,” Rowan repeated, smiling.

  She stepped around them and up a few stairs as Dr. Campbell and Kayla hurried to the stone slab. The two of them stood close together and read over the engravings.

  “That’s a strong curse,” Dr. Campbell eventually muttered.

  “Don’t you think it’s unusual?” Rowan asked from the top of the staircase.

  “In what way?” The portly man rubbed his nose.