Touch of the Fire God [Scions of the Ankh 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (5 page)

“Five, how can that be?” Ralabos began to pace again. “How can you be sure it is her?”

“Old friend, I have but to look how you’ve been acting. Not to mention the moment she stepped foot on this homeland, you awoke.

“I researched each possibility on the Internet, and then I had Franklin Summit care for the girls until they were of age. I’ve brought each one here, and nothing happened—until now.”

“Who is this Franklin Summit?” Ralabos demanded, approaching Jonathan slowly.

“Relax, friend, he doesn’t really exist.”

Ralabos displayed a confused expression, which almost made Jonathan laugh out loud, until he thought better of it and bit his lip instead.

“I merely presented myself as an older human. I was careful not to attach myself to any of the girls. They received the best the human world had to offer them. I took good care of our dear friend, Ralabos.”

“I owe you much, Thoth,” Ralabos stated with sincerity.

“No more than both Hathor and I owe you.”

“What is this Internet?”

“We’ll get to the World Wide Web later. You have much to catch up on.”

“That shirt looks very uncomfortable. Am I expected to wear such clothing?”

“No, humans expect a certain dress for certain occasions. I take care of things in the business world of humans, so you have no need.”

“Business? Why do you even need to ...”

“Consort with them? You have been asleep for a long time; this culture, though still primitive, has changed a great deal. We would stick out like a sore thumb, as they say. We have to blend in, have a reason for our existence. I have been so many people in the last hundreds of years including Franklin Summit—that even I, who was worshipped as the god of wisdom and writing, have forgotten some of my identities.”

“Do the humans still worship us?” Ralabos looked stricken, almost afraid of the answer. He hoped that all that had been sacrificed hadn’t been for nothing.

“No, they do not. In that you were most successful.” Ralabos breathed a sigh of relief until Jonathan’s next statement. “But as a result, you will have to blend in, get an identity.”

“That means what to me? My only concern is the woman. My woman.”

“Nice, and very well focused, but not entirely wise while we’re trying to get her to convert.”

“You call yourself this Jonathan, Hathor calls herself Anaise. Am I to take on a human name?” Ralabos almost spat the question. While he loved the human race, he took great pride in his own.

Jonathan thought a moment before he answered.

“Well technically, the ancient people never used your given name. In this I think you are safe to use your name, though a last name is certainly needed.” Jonathan tapped the side of his glass in mock deep thought.

“I am to assume you have one in mind?” Ralabos saw the look on Thoth’s face and knew he was up to something.

“Yes, I do.” Jonathan smiled. “One of a kind.”

* * * *

Rene woke from the most restful sleep she had had in months. She slowly opened her eyes and saw that the room was bathed in the most glorious sunshine. Such a pretty room, with beautiful tapestries on the wall, she absolutely fell in love with the canopy surrounding her own bed.

Wait a minute. Where the hell am I?

She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked to see Anaise, sitting nearby, in a beautifully carved and well-padded chair. Anaise looked up, her brown eyes lighting in pleasure.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she squealed, putting down the newspaper she was reading. She gracefully approached the bed and sat down, idly stroking Rene’s hair away from her face.

“You were quite tired from your trip. You must be starving.”

Rene hit the rewind button and grew alarmed at the last memory she had. “I ... uh ... did you see someone else in that room?”

Rene was going to die from sheer embarrassment if Anaise had no idea what she was talking about.

“You mean Ralabos?” Anaise giggled. “He likes his theatrics. Think nothing of it.”

“You don’t understand.” Rene began, then stopped. Was she going to tell this complete stranger that she had been talking to this man in her dreams?

“Then explain to me. I am a good listener,” Anaise said gently, weaving a teeny tiny spell of compulsion into her words. She wanted to know how strong the connection was to Ralabos. She was a die-hard romantic.

“I’ve dreamed of that man,” Rene blurted out to her surprise.

Where the hell did that come from?
she thought.

“I’ve never wanted a man in my life, but him I wanted.” Rene clamped her hands over her mouth, terror striking in every pore of her body.

When did I get loose lips?

Anaise threw her head back and laughed, good-naturedly. Of course, the woman’s laugh was throaty and sexy as hell. Rene wanted to hate her for that.

“Perhaps it was a premonition,” Anaise suggested, trying to ease Rene’s nervousness. No doubt the poor child thought she was going insane. Rene immediately grabbed onto the lifeline.

“You might have something there. Perhaps I was so tired my dreams and premonitions got mixed up.”

“You have had premonitions before?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything.” Rene laughed, though it was empty of any real merriment. The growl of her stomach cut the momentary silence.

“I am a horrible hostess,” Anaise declared while rising. “You get yourself ready, and I’ll have an American lunch ready for you.”

“Lunch?” How long had she been asleep? She had business to attend.

“Don’t worry on it, Rene. It’s the difference in time, I am sure. You will still have enough time to tend to some matters, but you must hurry. Your things have been unpacked. Your bath is to the left of the bureau.”

With that, Anaise sauntered out, leaving Rene feeling as if she had been sucked down the rabbit hole for real.

* * * *

The day turned out to be much less productive than Rene had anticipated. After wolfing down a delicious meal and being given use of a limo, complete with driver, Rene tried to tend to business, only to discover that the morgue couldn’t find the body of Franklin Summit.

They assured Rene this type of thing had never happened before and that they would do their utmost to secure the situation.

As for burial arrangements, well, one can’t bury what one doesn’t have.

At least the body was being looked for, which would give her time to examine Franklin’s will. She returned to the mansion and went into the den, looking for Jonathan, hoping he would have the copy of the will handy as promised. Instead she bumped into
him
.

“I’m sorry. I thought Jonathan would be in here.” Even to her ears, the words sounded garbled.

“Am I such a bad substitute?” was Ralabos’ sardonic reply, his gray eyes accessing her boldly as he looked up from the laptop.

“No, I mean, I don’t know you, so that would be hard to judge,” Rene stammered, feeling foolish as the blood rushed to her heated face.

“Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Ralabos Smith.” He stood up, only to bow rather regally for one so tall.

“I’m Dr. Rene Selkis,” she replied, feeling shy for no other reason than the fact that this man’s gorgeousness was way too intimidating.

“A doctor.” He smiled broadly. “What is it that you treat, Rene?”

Okay, so on his lips, her name sounded like cherries and chocolate—decadent and sinful.

“I specialize in toxicology. I treat mostly poisons and toxins.”

“Ah,” was all he said, coming slowly from around the desk. “Lovely name, Rene.” He perched on the front of the desk, crossing his ankles and his arms. “It means rebirth.”

“I didn’t know that,” she replied breathlessly, wondering why her feet were walking her farther into the room. Clearly there was no Jonathan to be found here, only this dangerously masculine male.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was looking for Jonathan.”

“You did not disturb me. I was getting to know this World Wide Web.”

“You’re not familiar with the Internet?” Rene said incredulously. Where did this guy just crawl out from, a rock?

“Perhaps you can teach me?” He quirked up an eyebrow, and Rene looked away, wiping her sweating palms on her skirt.

“There is so much information,” he stated. “I understand some of it is not to be taken as truth. How do I know what is real and what is not?”

He purposefully played with the words, and Rene could feel it. Did he know of her confusion between reality and dreams when it came to him?

“Well I don’t know. I’ve got to go ... I have things I need to take care of.”

“I don’t bite, Rene.” He paused at her name, seeming to relish it on his tongue like a fine wine. “Is it so much to ask? You’re not doing anything now.”

“Well I wanted to. That’s why I was looking for Jonathan.”

“He’s not here.”

“I know that—now.”

“But you and I are.” It was a simple, factual statement that held more innuendos than there were Cheerios in a box.

“Perhaps another time then?” He perked up an eyebrow, and his storm gray eyes seemed to challenge her.

“Yes, well maybe I should just go look in another room.”

“Do I frighten you, zenj’a?” he asked softly, uncrossing his ankles and looking like he was about to approach her.

Rene froze. That’s what he called her in the premonition. She was sticking to the word premonition because no other explanation was plausible.

“What does that mean?” she asked, stiffly holding her ground. He was challenging her, trying to see what she was made of. This felt familiar, like they had had these verbal exchanges many times.

She sensed that, right now, he had the upper hand because she seemed to be missing something very important. He was a bit smug, yet she was not one to cower. No matter how near he got, she would not budge—much.

“It’s an old word, it means
beloved
.”

“That’s a little intimate to call someone you just met, isn’t it?” She questioned him coolly, trying to make him uncomfortable with his familiar manner with her.

“Say it.”

“Say what?” Rene feigned innocence.

“What you are avoiding.”

“I’m not avoiding anything.”

“You haven’t said it once, not on the dream planes and not now.”

“The dream planes.” Rene’s voice went hoarse. “I don’t know.”

“You’re denying it.”

“I am not. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sweat began to trickle slowly under her fashionable tank top. His effect on her scared her witless, made her lose control of her faculties.

He crossed the room so fast she gasped. He stood so close, like in the dreams, and it wasn’t lost on her that his scent was familiar. Right now he wasn’t playing fair.

“Say my name. I long to hear you say it. It has been too long. Just say it,” he demanded.

“Ralabos.” She stared down at her feet, trying to avoid his gaze. She wouldn’t, however, give him the satisfaction of completely intimidating her. She said it quietly first, then louder as the feel of his name on her lips felt comfortable, right.

“Ralabos, there.” She tilted her chin up in defiance. Bad mistake. Without hesitation he took it as an invitation and clamped his mouth over hers. Immediately his tongue swept the warm cavern of her mouth.

She was shocked at first, then in pure bliss as his tongue gently explored her mouth, tasting her, stealing the sweetness inside.

His hands circled her waist and pulled her closer. She didn’t know how to respond at first.

“Taste me, zenj’a,” he whispered against her lips.

Somewhat shyly, she let her tongue explore his mouth, loving the feel of his soft but firm lips against hers. Her tongue brushed against his and electricity shot down to the juncture at her thighs. She moaned and found to her dismay that her arms on their own accord had wrapped themselves around his neck. One hand stroked the thick braid that hung there.

He tasted wild and so very masculine. Every ounce of her being screamed she wanted more—needed more from him. Instinctively she began to grind her pelvis against his, much to his approval.

“That’s it. Take your pleasure from me,” he groaned, only breaking the kiss long enough to nip at her ear. His tongue traced the shell of her ear, and her legs felt as if they could no longer hold her weight.

She felt his erection through the thin linen pants and her equally thin skirt. It felt like hot steel against her, seducing her into thinking what it would feel like inside of her.

One of his hands came up to caress her hair; he used it to pull her head back gently, to deepen the kiss. She gave in to him without a moment’s hesitation. Mindless, blind euphoria took over as her tongue mated with his.

A warning or something should have gone off in her head. This wasn’t her; she didn’t kiss and fondle complete strangers, yet here she was, definitely getting into the groove. Her brain was fogged with desire, her skin almost painfully sensitive to his touch.