Rhys gathered the unconscious woman in his arms. He’d been debating whether he should carry her directly into the palace as a captive, as Seth had urged, or first make an attempt to convert her as a willing initiate of the god, as his own conscience dictated. Not to mention his lust.
On the one hand, time was short. But Rhys abhorred the idea of shabtis, as the human servants were called, who were as good as slaves. And there was plenty to entice a woman to give herself over to the god and immortality by choice. Even in the early years when one was confined to the palace, despite its perpetual dimness of nighttime, life at Khepesh was filled with sensual delights and challenges for both mind and body. If not for the wretched threats of war with Haru-Re, it would truly be paradise on earth.
The delicate scent of the woman he carried wove around his senses, tugging at his nether regions. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. His duties had kept him too busy of late. Standing here in the dark, the soft and vulnerable feminine flesh laid out across his arms was a vivid reminder of what he’d been missing.
Soon, he hoped, the situation would be remedied.
Unless Seth decided to keep her beyond the Ritual of Transformation ceremony.
Rhys just hoped he’d be able to keep his hands off her long enough to talk Seth into gifting her to him. The ceremony was less than a week away. He could hold out until then.
Cradling her head against his shoulder to protect her from scraping against the stone walls, he held her body close to his and ducked out through the tomb opening, blinking back the blinding sunlight as he slid through the needle’s eye in the rock cliff. And was greeted by a sharp shout from below.
“Hey! What are you doing with her?”
A very angry woman rushed up at him, rocks and gravel flying as she scrambled. A second woman took a stance stock-still at the bottom of the slope...aiming a rifle at his head.
“Put her down!” the woman holding the rifle ordered him with cold fierceness. Apparently, she was very sure of her aim.
If Rhys hadn’t known he could easily deflect her earthly bullets, he might actually be worried.
“You must be the sisters,” he called, readjusting the woman’s weight in his arms.
She moaned and turned her cheek against his throat, sliding her own arm around his neck to cling to him. The intimate gesture made the sisters’ eyes widen. The one coming at him with raised fists halted in her tracks, staring, giving him exactly the opportunity he needed.
He gathered his immortal powers and sent out a wave of forgetfulness to engulf them both. Not enough to render them unconscious, as he had the woman while in the tomb, but enough to blank their minds and open them to his control. Slowly, the fists and rifle dropped harmlessly to their sides.
“You will forget you ever saw me here, or your sister,” he commanded. “When we are gone, you will proceed as though this meeting never happened.”
They stood like statues, their eyes unseeing, hanging on his every word.
“When she contacts you, you will believe I am not a danger. You will not be alarmed, nor take any action to stop her when she says she intends to stay with me. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” they both chanted softly.
Satisfied they would obey, he effortlessly swung the woman around onto his back, twining her arms securely about his neck. With a whirl of his cloak and a swirling of sand in the air, he again recited the magic words that would transform him to al Fahl.
Then, securing his precious cargo on his back with a tethering spell, he reared up and took off at a fast gallop. He’d made up his mind. He would take her to his desert estate.
And there he would work a different kind of magic on her....