Shadow of the Sheikh (5 page)

“Yes,” he assured her. “My name is Shahin Gameel Aswadi. But most people know me simply as
Sheikh Shahin
.”

“T
hat's r-ridiculous,” Gemma stammered, clearly shaken. “
Sheikh Shahin
d-doesn't exist. He's just a legend.”

Now was as good a time as any to disabuse her of her romantic fantasies. It would have been nice to let her keep them for the coming night, but Shahin had no patience for subtlety. She would find out the truth of the matter soon enough anyway.

“As you can see, I most assuredly do exist. Although I suppose my prowess might be considered legendary,” he added drily.

Her voice choked with distrust, she surprised him by saying, “Prove it.”

He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, deliberately dragging it down a fraction. Enough to convey his meaning. “Oh, I intend to.”

A blush ripped across her cheeks and she turned away. “Not what I meant.”

He just smiled, his body stirring with anticipation of the night ahead.

But they had come to the mouth of the hollowed-out wind cave where his spies made their base camp, so he urged his camel to the ground and dismounted along with his men. He reached up and swung Gemma from the saddle down to her feet. He removed his
bisht
cloak and draped it over her shoulders. Not to cover her. Unlike their modern counterparts, the ancient Egyptians—and the residents of Khepesh—treated their women as equals, and did not force any woman to hide her beauty beneath a veil and burka. But rather, Shahin covered her with his garment to mark her as his.

It looked good on her.

“Wear this and there will be no doubt to whom you belong,” he said.

“I don't belong to anyone,” she returned with a scowl, but nevertheless wrapped the cloak around her body.

An uncharacteristic barb of possessiveness caught in his chest. By Osiris, she
did
belong to him! He
opened his mouth to tell her so, then quickly snapped it shut again.
Thot preserve him.

Had he lost his mind? Only a witless fool would want to possess
any
woman for longer than the fleeting physical pleasure she could bring him. He'd gone down that road before and lived to bitterly regret it. He'd learned his lesson the first time a woman deceived and betrayed him. It would also be the last. And if he needed further evidence of the untrustworthiness of the creatures, he need look no further than his good friend Rhys Kilpatrick. He'd also fallen victim to a woman's trickery, had trusted her with his immortal life. See where that had gotten him—in the camp of the enemy, his home and friends lost to him, and a death sentence hanging over his head.

Gemma was that woman's sister. Shahin must never forget it.

Dismissing the whole distasteful feminine subject from his mind, he strode to where his men had gathered. They, at least, he could rely upon.

“Auwa!” Shahin called into the cave. “Time to wake up! Show yourself and greet your captain!”

The growl of a jackal answered him from the depths of the cave. Behind him, he heard Gemma gasp. Her body scooted closer to his back.

A few seconds later up on the wadi, a large
mountain lion padded to the edge and peered down at them. It snarled in greeting.

“Asad! Get down here.” Shahin beckoned with a hand. “I am anxious for your report as well.”

The lion padded easily down the steep incline. At the last few yards he crouched and leaped, his human form materializing in midair to land gracefully on his feet with a twist and a grin. Show-off.

From behind Shahin came a silence so thick you could slice it with a saber.

Auwa trotted out from the cave and also shifted to human form. With a smooth stretch onto his hind legs, the jackal unfolded into a compact, muscular man with beady eyes and a long nose which he jerked hungrily in Gemma's direction.

That's when she screamed.

Shahin spared a glance backward in annoyance and threw a calming spell over her. The scream choked off, but her eyes remained wild with fear and disbelief.

He signaled the men to sit for their meeting. Then with a hand to her shoulder, he urged her down behind him before she collapsed.

“Welcome to your new world,
kalila
,” he murmured with just a hint of smile. “Now if you'll excuse me for a few minutes, I have some business to conduct before taking you home.”

 

Please, God. This could not be happening.

Gemma struggled to slow the two-minute mile of
her heartbeat and quell the panic doing somersaults in her stomach. This was insane!

What she'd just witnessed was not possible. And yet, it had happened. In broad daylight. Right in front of her eyes. Two animals had turned into men, and they were now chatting away with the one who called himself Sheikh Shahin and claimed to be a hawk, as though there was nothing strange or unusual about any of it.

Shape-shifters!

Just like the countless stories the villagers had told her over and over in her ethnographical work. There'd been no doubt the locals believed their tales of the shape-shifting guardians of the old gods. But Gemma had never taken the tales as anything other than myth. Had always chalked up the villagers' staunch belief in them to rampant superstition and lack of education. What rational person wouldn't?

Just now when she'd dared Shahin to prove who he was, it had only been to flatly discredit his outrageous assertion. Not from any remote belief he was who he claimed.

But
could
it be true? Could it all really be true?

Unless she was hallucinating or going mad, it had to be. There was no other explanation for what she'd just seen. Not that
that
made her feel any better. “Welcome to your new world,” Shahin had told her. But that
world was crazy, out-of-control. She wanted the old one back!

Or…did she? The ethnographer within her—who wanted to ask the shape-shifters a million questions—warred with the coward who just wanted to hide her head in the sand and pretend it was all just a hallucination. That she wasn't stuck in the middle of the desert with a man legend said could change into a hawk, along with his troop of death warriors, inhabitants of an otherworld she was just superstitious enough to credit as a dim possibility.

God help her, what should she do?

First on the list was not to think about that
other
thing he'd said earlier. Involving the word
capture
.

Because surely he didn't intend to
keep
her? It was one thing to spend the night with a dangerously attractive man, indulging in a scorching-hot, if majorly ill-advised, desert sheikh fantasy. But she wanted to go home in the morning. She
needed
to go home in the morning. The alternative was unthinkable.

She sat there now on the ground behind him, taking nervous peeks at the men sitting on their heels in a circle engaged in intent conversation. Were they all shape-shifters? Or just Shahin and the two she'd seen…change?

God. She couldn't even be
lieve
she was asking
herself that question. Joss would think she'd finally flipped over the edge.

Hell, maybe she had. Since her frightened scream, an unnatural calm had wrapped around her along with Shahin's cloak, making all of this seem completely unreal.

Or maybe she was still dreaming.

She pinched herself hopefully. Nope. No such luck.

Suddenly, the men all stood. The two shape-shifting spies eyed her warily. The others headed for the camels.

“Let's go,” Shahin said and extended his hand to help her up.

Which was when, in that war in her head, the coward won out.

“Um, look…” she began, brushing the dirt from his
bisht
and handing it back to him. “I really don't think this is such a good idea, after all.”

“What isn't?” he asked, slipping it on.

She started to walk toward her mare, which was standing amidst the much larger camels contentedly munching on the green leaves of a small bush. “Me going with you,” she answered. “I should get back to the villa. Josslyn will worry, and—”

He caught her arm and changed her direction, firmly steering her toward his camel instead. “The sun will be going down soon,” he said. “I couldn't
possibly let you ride across the desert alone at this hour. Besides, you'd never find your way. We are a long way from Naqada.”

The fact that he was probably right on all counts did not reassure her all that much. But he didn't seem to be giving her an option. She was pretty sure fighting him on it in front of his men would only make him even more determined. Men liked to be in control. Or at least appear to be. No way she'd win that battle.

She bit her lip.

“The morning, then,” she said. “You'll show me the way back home in the morning. Right?”

He lifted her onto the saddle, then jumped up behind her and put his mouth to her ear. “In the morning,” he murmured low, as the camel rose to its feet. “I promise, you will not wish to go back.”

A shiver of awareness twisted through her insides at the nearness of his body and the deep rumble of his words. The erotic promise lying under them wrapped her in a veil of temptation, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach got all mixed up with her attraction to him. She felt helpless against the pull. Unable to resist giving in to him.

What was wrong with her?

She tried in vain to stop the sudden trembling in her limbs that whispered she should take her mare and gallop away as far and as fast as she possibly
could, no matter how dangerous the wilderness was after sunset. Because she had a sinking feeling that going anywhere with this man, regardless of the time of day, would be far more hazardous to her body and soul than any snakes and scorpions could ever be.

But the steely arm that banded around her midriff told her loud and clear she wouldn't be going anywhere he didn't want her to go. Not tonight, anyway.

She eased out an unsteady breath. Okay.
One night
, she told herself. She could let him have his way for one night. It wasn't like she hadn't already tacitly agreed to it. Or that she didn't want it. Because she did. It made no sense at all, but she wasn't afraid of him that way—not physically, not sexually. His hands on her body were not hard or cruel. Their touch spoke of gentle persuasion and breathtaking skill, not of force.

She would give him tonight. But in the morning…in the morning she was so out of there. No matter how amazingly sexy and tempting the man was.

Because the whole shape-shifting death warrior thing?
That
scared the living daylights out of her.

N
ephtys was terrified to go to sleep.

After the upsetting vision she'd had of surrendering herself to Haru-Re at Petru, she was certain he must have discovered a way to bespell her through her dreams. It was the only explanation—if the vision was a true premonition of the future.

Unfortunately, her visions were seldom wrong.

But this one must be! She would never desert Seth-Aziz or Khepesh. Never willingly give herself over to her brother's enemy. To her own betrayer.
Never!

Ray must have found some insidious way to influence her actions by appearing in her dreams.

She touched the bite marks on her neck and shivered, tamping down the sexual response that coursed through her body at the light touch on her skin. She'd barely slept since his disturbingly erotic nocturnal visits last week, when he'd left his mark on her…in her…

Meruati
, he'd whispered seductively as he'd made love to her in her dream.
Come back to me. I need you. I want you here by my side. Come to Petru…

Lies! All lies!

He didn't want her. But he did need her. Or rather, he needed her magical powers. His numbers at Petru were dwindling, and Nephtys was the only priestess left alive who knew the spell that would grant a human immortality. Ray's seduction was purely self-interest, nothing to do with any tender feelings for her. She knew that.

It mattered not that she was in love with him. Love meant nothing to a man like Haru-Re. Even in her own heart, the line was thin between love and hate.

She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back among the floor pillows of her meditation room, exhausted. If only she could make it to sunset. Ray was the high priest of the Sun God Re-Horakhti, Guardian of the Morning Light; the chances of his venturing abroad at night were far less than during
the day. But she didn't think she could hold out much longer.

What would happen if he came to her again?

Would he make her do things, promise things, that would complicate her life even further? Or ruin it altogether? She let out a soft moan of despair.

“Why do you fight me so,
meruati?
”

She gasped and sat up, whirling to the deep rumble of his voice. He lay stretched out among her pillows, his tall, athletic body reposing like a lion at rest. Relaxed, elegant, lethally dangerous.

“Ray!” She scuttled backward, heart pounding.

“How did you get in here?”

He regarded her with a mysterious smile. “You invited me.”

“I didn't.” This was one time she fervently wished the old myth about having to invite a vampire into one's home were true.

She glanced toward the door, wondering what the chances were that she could shift and make it out of the room before he caught her. She loved her sleek feline body, but there were times she wished she had chosen her Set-animal more wisely. A temple cat had few defenses against the likes of one who could become any creature he wished.

“Don't even try,” he admonished calmly, as though reading her mind. “Your fluffy kitty is
no match for the savage beasts I can call forth. I wouldn't want to hurt you.”

Too late
, she thought bleakly.

“You needn't shift to be a savage beast, Ray,” she retorted.

He chuckled, completely unoffended by the insult. “I am rather magnificently forbidding, aren't I?”

The man's ego was colossal. How she found him the least bit attractive was a mystery for the ages. Except, of course, that he
was
attractive. Unreasonably so.

“What do you want from me?” she ground out, sticking her hands under her armpits to keep him from seeing them shake.

“Oh, I think you know what I want.”

In the blink of an eye he was in front of her on his knees, reaching out to pull her body up and into his arms.

“No!” she cried, pushing him away. It took all her strength and willpower. “I don't want you here. I don't want
you
.”

“We both know that's not true,” he said, the air around him beginning to spark, as it invariably did when his temper piqued. “I've never had to force myself on you,
meruati
. Come. Put aside this distasteful coyness and welcome me properly.”

His mouth came down on hers and she groaned in dismay. Her powers were no match for his. Nor
was her resolve. She couldn't win this skirmish.
But she had to try.

She turned her head, breaking the kiss. “Tell me how you got in here and I'll consider your plea.”

He wrapped his big hand around the back of her neck and brushed his thumb over the bite marks he'd left on her throat last week. An electric spangle of carnal desire shimmered through her and she let out an unwilling moan. It was a deliberate demonstration of his power over her, she knew that. She also knew she had little defense against him, should he decide to just take what he wanted rather than negotiate.

“An ancient spell,” he conceded when she'd all but forfeited the win. “On a scroll long forgotten.”

He gazed into her eyes and she forced herself not to look away. Daring him to glamour her. “Then I must find the spell's reversal, mustn't I?”

Slowly he smiled, but didn't take up her gauntlet. “By the Orb, I have missed you, woman,” he murmured. “No one else dares talk back or disobey my command. Your bravery excites me. Along with your incredible beauty, of course.”

She battled back the seductive effect of his words and scooted away from him. “Odd that it took five thousand years for you to realize such a profound attraction.” The bitterness in her observation rang loud and clear.

His lips twitched, his dark eyes following her
as she pulled away and flopped down among the pillows again. He said, “Perhaps it is my two newest initiates who remind me of feelings I have long repressed.”

For a microsecond, her heart stalled. Repressed? But that would imply they actually dwelled in his heart, which she knew to be patently false. “You speak of Lord Kilpatrick and Lady Gillian?”

In a graceful movement, Ray eased his tall frame down on his side next to her, head resting on a palm above his bent elbow. Far too close for comfort. “Their love for one another is…inspirational. That they are willing to incur the wrath of a demigod to stay together is a testament to the depth of their devotion.”

So they were in Petru.
She'd sought a vision of their whereabouts but had not succeeded. Visions were fickle; she knew that only too well. As was devotion…

“More like stupidity,” she returned. “Seth is very angry at their defection.”

Ray's eyes narrowed. “And yet he has not put a price on their heads. Why is that, I wonder?”

“Because of my vision,” she answered, semi-truthfully. No doubt they had already told him their reasons for fleeing Khepesh, so lying about that was futile. Better to be straight and not make him suspicious. They wouldn't know of the possible
revision to her prophecy. “She is my brother's future consort.”

“I rather doubt that,” he said, his long fingers toying with the folds of her gown.

“Do not think for a moment we won't get her back,” she said, yanking it away from him. “Seth is quite determined.” Regardless of her position at the temple.

A dusting of sparkles wafted over his hand. His lashes lowered a fraction. “Perhaps a trade could be arranged. The lady Gillian…for you.”

She snorted. “Dream on. It will never happen. Seth-Aziz will never betray me as you did.”

Ray's eyes flared, then went flat. “No need. Kilpatrick has become one of my lieutenants and has already shared many of Khepesh's secrets with us. Be wise about your loyalties, my love. It is only a matter of time before I am once again your lord and master, and the one to decide your fate for all eternity.”

A shiver worked its way up her spine. To her dismay, it was unclear to her whether it was a shiver of horror…or excitement.

As if in answer, he reached out and ran his fingertips along her cheek and down her throat, again brushing over the bite marks he'd left there. Her addiction flared to life and an agonizing surge of desire swamped through her. This time he didn't
let up. Caressing them steadily with his thumb, he slid his fingers around her neck and, oh, so slowly, he leaned over her. As she watched, his fangs lengthened and sharpened. Her heartbeat took off into the stratosphere.

“No,” she whispered, but even to herself it sounded like a breathless plea of “yes.”

He scraped the loose sleeve of her gown down off her shoulder, leaving her throat, chest and upper arm bare and exposed. He dipped under the wide neckline and found her breast with his palm and cupped it. A surge of want shot through her whole being.

She held her breath, anticipating the touch of his mouth that would send her body into a conflagration of pleasure. But he was a cruel lover and withheld it, holding back for long, endless moments until she thought she would go mad for want of it. Of him. He held his lips over her, a fraction above, never touching her skin, moving with excruciating slowness down to her breast. The warmth of his breath was like the sun on her skin, the suss of her own blood crying to burst free of her veins and into his mouth like a chant in her ears. Finally,
finally
, he extended his tongue and put the moist tip of it to her breast. She cried out, her body bowing up in blissful want. She pushed her aching nipple into his mouth. He enveloped it and
sucked, his fangs piercing her flesh in a sting of pleasure-pain.

She came up off the bed. And detonated in a mind-shattering orgasm. Which was over all too quickly, leaving her just as needy—a mind trick of her addiction for the vampire's kiss. Each climax only enhanced her greed for the next.

He shifted to the other breast, and the agonizing pleasure swept her up into its clutches again. She cried his name and she felt him smile against her flesh. And then she shattered again.

When it was over, their clothes were gone and he was between her thighs, fisting his cock in readiness to come into her.

“Who is your lord and master?” he demanded, his voice gritty with his own need.

She looked up at him, her body screaming for his possession. “Seth-Aziz,” she forced herself to answer.

A burst of fireworks exploded above them, showering down in pinpricks of heat on her skin. Angrily, Ray pressed the head of his cock against her slick opening, stopping just short of entrance. She saw stars, her body aching in an agony of want.

“Please,” she begged.

His eyes narrowed. “Who is your lord and master, Nephtys? Take care how you answer!”

She swallowed. Hanging on to her will by a thread. “Seth-Aziz!” she croaked past the heart-lump throbbing in her throat.

A crack of lightning lit up the room. Ray's eyes flashed with fury. “I can crush you like a scarab beetle,
meruati
,” he growled. “I can burn you with my fire and suck the life from your veins if you do not tell me what I want to hear!”

“Then do it!” she spat out. “Kill me and watch your
shemsu
dwindle and your
per netjer
slowly die! If I am gone, it will be the end of immortality for
all
the ancients! Go on! Drain me of my life! I am past caring,” she cried.

But she knew he would not. Could not. His first duty was to his god. Not his ego, as vast as it was.

He would not ask for her allegiance again. Three times said aloud was an unbreakable oath to Seth-Aziz. Ray dare not risk it.

But that did not mean she wouldn't pay for her defiance.

“You will regret this,” he ground out. “For I intend to have you! To
own
you. And when you are again my slave, by the rod of Osiris, you shall
not
defy me!”

Bolts of brilliant light strobed from Haru-Re's fingers as they curled into the flesh of her arm and drove into the mass of her hair. His body crushed
onto hers, spreading her trembling thighs with his muscular legs. He held her fast, unable to move.

Then his mouth was on her neck. She cried out as his fangs stabbed into her. Amidst a surrounding blaze of dazzling radiance, he plunged his cock deep into her. And—
may the gods have pity on her
—she rejoiced.