He heard her chuckle a little and then felt the soft drift of her fingers over his chest. Suddenly his ribs didn’t bother him so much. He’d be stiff in the morning, although at least one part of him was pretty stiff now.
“Hmmm,” she said, “especially now that you’re naked. You know, either you’re going to have to start wearing something to bed or stop having late night visitors…”
Then he did laugh, as she’d clearly meant him to.
Curling an arm around her, he pulled her closer. “Maybe I need to hire a bodyguard.”
“So you can sleep naked?” she asked, and he heard the laughter in her voice.
By the sound of it, he found her face and slid his hand deep into that glorious silken hair, the scent of it beguiling. He coaxed her head back gently by gathering a handful of it in his hand.
“Something like that,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.
It fit neatly as hers opened to meet him.
With a sigh, he tasted her lips and then tasted her more deeply as he drew her closer, backing her against the wall to press against her there.
He devoured her mouth, drowned in the taste of her, in the feel of her soft hair between his fingers, in the lush feel of her body against his. It was cotton again that she wore but it was crisp, new and a little rough. The nightgown he’d bought her.
Ky slipped his hand beneath it and found nothing but smooth silken skin.
His breath shuddered in his throat at the knowledge, at the feel of her.
“Raissa,” he said, softly, amused. “Are you naked?”
Sharply, pertly, she said, “I am not. I’m wearing a nightgown. The one you bought me.”
But her voice sounded a little rough in the darkness.
“And beneath it…?”
Entirely aware of his warm hand on her hip, sliding around now to her bottom to cup her there, close, so close. Raissa found her breath coming unevenly.
“Oh,” she managed, “that…well, yes…no...”
There wasn’t even thin cotton beneath his hand, only warm skin as he caressed her bottom and then slid his hand up the length of her back as he pressed against her. His mouth went dry and he sighed with pleasure, his body tightening. His other hand skimmed up her ribs as she quivered.
Lifting the fabric, he drew it over her head, let it fall away. He curled his fingers around her breast, lifted it, felt the sweet weight of it as he lowered his mouth to it―his ribs protesting a little―and drew the hard, taut nipple into his mouth.
She moaned softly.
Incredible. She was so responsive to his touch, to his mouth that he reveled in it, sucking hard on her.
Raissa’s eyes closed as she felt his hand curl around her breast, heard the soft sound of his sigh. Heat poured through her as her throat went tight, as his mouth did.
She gasped at his warm wet mouth on her, then he nibbled and she trembled as a shot of heat raced from his mouth to her core. His teeth scraped lightly and she gasped as he suckled, her hips shifting in response to each hard pull of his mouth.
Need exploded through her, desire racing through her veins.
Gently, Ky ran his palm down over her taut belly, remembering well what it had looked like when his shirt had fluttered to reveal it and then he found the tight dense curls between her thighs, sifted his fingers through them.
She trembled, her breath unsteady, coming in little hitches as her head fell back against the wall.
There was a knock at the door.
Ryan called, “Hey, Boss, is everything all right? I heard Raissa shouting and some noise, it didn’t sound good.”
Her breath catching, Raissa shuddered in the darkness as they both went still. She swore, softly.
Desperately swallowing a laugh, Ky buried his mouth in the curve of her shoulder.
Taking a deep breath of his own, Ky said, “I can’t not answer…”
With a nod, swallowing hard, Raissa said, “I know.”
It was Ryan. If he’d heard half of what she had, certainly the most recent commotion, he would be understandably worried.
Reluctantly, Ky withdrew his hands with a quick brush of his mouth over hers.
“Let me find a light,” he said.
Taking a breath, Raissa tried to quell the demands of her unfulfilled body and felt around for her nightgown, drawing it on quickly.
Ky caught a brief flash of her slender back and tight bottom before the fabric slipped over them. He ached and not just in his ribs.
“Coming, Ryan,” he called.
She turned and he saw the shock in her eyes.
“Ky,” she said in horror, looking at the blackening bruises over his ribs.
Already she reached for it, cupping her hand over the injury as she looked up at him.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she demanded, softly.
Her hand was gentle, very warm and very soothing against his battered and protesting ribs.
The care, the concern in her eyes caught at him. If he’d ever wondered at the depth of her feeling, it was there in her eyes.
Brushing back her hair, he smiled. “Strange, I didn’t feel a thing, I had much better things on my mind.”
So beautiful.
He sighed as he looked at down at her lovely face, his body tightening as he remembered how close they’d come. Another minute…
There was heat in his eyes, a desire as intense as hers.
Biting her lip, Raissa looked up at him, tracing his beard where it framed his mouth with the fingers as she let out a breath that was half a sigh.
If Ryan wasn’t still waiting outside the door…
Looking at her in the short nightgown and then at the wreckage of the room, Ky shook his head and went to answer the door. He’d deal with the repercussions of Raissa’s presence in his rooms if he had to, and he likely would since the commotion would have roused the other guests.
“Are you all right, Professor?” Ryan demanded as he stepped into the room, looked around.
“I’m fine,” Ky said. “I had…unwelcome visitors.”
“Unwelcome visitors,” Ryan said in alarm. “What did they want?”
“The papyrus,” Ky said as they entered the main room of his suite.
No one was there. Raissa was gone, the curtains to the balcony fluttered in the breeze.
Just the thought of it made him shudder, they were ten stories up, but there’d been no cry.
A familiar voice from the hall said, “Professor?”
Komi, worried, with John on his heels.
And then Raissa, dressed now in the blue sundress he’d bought her in the hotel gift shop just that afternoon. It was oddly surreal.
The dress looked as lovely on her as he thought it might, and the color made her eyes seem to glow. He remembered her simple surprise and pleasure when he’d given it to her, the almost shy, wistful way she’d taken it.
Still, he found he preferred the little white cotton nightgown…and what was beneath it.
“What’s going on?” she asked, guilelessly.
Only her eyes betrayed her and the quick faint smile when theirs met.
The others were quick to fill her in.
“The question is,” Ryan said, as they set the room to rights again, “what do we do about it?”
Ky shook his head with a frown. “Deal with the police when they get here, without mentioning the papyrus or they’re liable to confiscate them as evidence. It was a simple attempt at robbery, the thieves thought I might have valuables since I’m an archaeologist.”
“What do they want with the papyrus?” Ryan asked. “Don’t they know we took pictures of them? That’s stupid.”
It was standard procedure after all.
Ky had been wondering the same thing. Taking the papyrus would accomplish nothing unless you eliminated all the other connections to it, including and especially the people. They’d come armed and prepared to do damage. The only way to completely secure the information on the papyrus would have been to kill everyone. He was convinced they’d been willing to kill Raissa by shooting her through the door.
With the papyrus and the shards at the Museum, safe behind its security and the police alerted, hopefully they would all be safe now.
There was a knock at the door that somehow managed to sound very official.
Ky sighed. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Fifteen
To his surprise, Ky found his ribs didn’t hurt quite as much as he thought they would come morning. Nor was he as stiff as he expected. None of them had felt much like sleeping after what happened, even if they’d had time for it once the police were through with them. The best any of them managed was an hour or two.
After breakfast Ky sent John to secure any equipment they didn’t have that they might need for nights in the desert and Komi to arrange for it all to be delivered to the dig site.
While they took care of those details, he, Raissa and Ryan returned to the Egyptian Museum.
As always Tareq was effusive, warm…and had coffee waiting for them, strong, rich Egyptian coffee.
Raissa’s eyes lit up at the smell and she pounced on the cup with glee, rolling her eyes and giving a sigh of pleasure at the first sip.
“A woman after my own heart,” Tareq said with a smile, “although lately I’ve had to cut back a little.” He tapped a fist against his chest and made a face. “Heartburn, you see.”
There was a pause as he frowned slightly, steepling his hands and tapping them against his chin.
“You should know it has come to my attention that others are now also looking for the Tomb, my friend, Ky. Some very passionate people.”
After the previous night that wasn’t news to any of them but Tareq. Ky didn’t need to ask how they’d learned of the Tomb, it was written on the walls preserved in the Hieroglyphics room above his head but it had been considered just another myth.
Until now.
Why the sudden interest? Or had his search somehow triggered the others?
A glance passed between the three of them, himself, Ryan and Raissa and Ky frowned.
“Who else is looking?” Ky asked seeing the worry in Tareq’s eyes. He remembered Tareq’s comment the night before about Zimmer’s associates. “What have you heard?”
In light of the incident Tareq’s concern was more than justified. Maybe now they would get some idea of what they were up against.
Tareq shook his head. “These are troubled times, Ky, as you know. Passions are running high on many fronts, certainly since the Americans invaded Iraq. The growing strength of religious conservatism across the world is also disturbing. We’ve seen the results of it across the globe, and not just 9/11, but London, Spain. I’ve heard rumors…”
For a moment Tareq lowered his head, tapping his steepled fingers against his lips, considering what he was about to say.
Ky waited.
“There are people, like those who fund Zimmer, who want to find the Tomb not for the history of it but for what they think it contains…”
“The Heart of the Gods, the key to the Tomb,” Ky said tightly, “and the Horn of the Djinn.”
“Precisely,” Tareq said. “The Heart, because if it exists, it will be one of the largest rubies in the world. It would be priceless, although they would still manage somehow to put a price on it. And we cannot forget all of the gold. If the rumors are true and this is the rare untouched tomb, there would be a great deal of gold as well. Greed drives many.”
He sighed.
“Then there is the Horn. If the Wall is correct, it is rumored to control the Djinn, or Genie as Americans know them. Who aren’t pretty young blondes like on American TV.”
He gave a look to Ryan, who grinned and shrugged.
“A little before my time, Doc.”
It was his only concession to Tareq’s title.
Tareq smiled a little.
“According to some readings of the Old Testament and Hebrew writings, Solomon ‘persuaded’ the Djinn to help him raise the Temple. In Islam, they are spirits of fire created by Allah and possessing free will as men do. Some believe there are good Djinn and bad Djinn, seeing the good Djinn somewhat as Christians do guardian angels. Of course, I’m vastly oversimplifying but for our purposes, it’s close enough.”
He hesitated a moment, then continued.
“Those funding Zimmer are a fundamentalist branch of some version of Christianity. What they want with the Horn I’m not quite sure. But, they are there. It’s a fairly secretive organization that reminds me of the rumors of what Masons were supposed to be and weren’t. These are.”
“There are also extremists of the other variety,” he said with a sigh of resignation, “who see the Horn as a symbol, while others truly believe it has the power to control the Djinn. It’s becoming imperative that you, or someone like you, find the Tomb so it can be preserved and protected from those who would misuse what lies within it.”
He sighed, worriedly. “But that puts you, my friend Ky, right in the middle, on the firing line as it were…”
They’d been friends many years.
Ky let out a breath. “Tareq, it already has. We’ve had a few incidents.”
Alarmed, Tareq looked at him. “How serious?”
“Serious enough.”
He explained quickly. There wasn’t any real need to go into details. Tareq and Ky had worked on a number of digs in various parts of the Middle East and this wasn’t the first time there had been trouble. Tareq knew Ky’s capabilities as well as Ky knew his.
Still.
“The dig site is in a very dangerous part of the world, Ky, a very volatile part of the world, as you very well know. It’s also very isolated. Be careful. Be very careful.”
Ky looked at his old friend, seeing the troubled look in his eyes.
“I will.”
It wasn’t a warning he took lightly. Tareq wasn’t one to give out such concern lightly either.
The kidnapping of the German tourists in the region years before had been vicious, leaving one dead. There had been several other nasty incidents since, not to mention their own encounter in the souk. And the attack of the previous night.
“All right,” Tareq said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together briskly. “Enough of that, it’s depressing. Instead let’s turn to these papyri that you bring me and this very interesting reinterpretation of Mr. Brunner’s work. What astonishes me is you found them at all.”
Raissa said, softly, “Given how much effort the ancient Egyptians put into concealing the whereabouts of their tombs and the amount of information in these documents, I would guess the architect either hid them to keep the information from falling into the wrong hands or to hide the fact he was putting so much down on paper. Either something happened to prevent him from returning or he simply forgot he’d hidden them there.”