I let you hear my voice cry out
for my myrrh-anointed beauty,
and you were with me there
when I prepared my trap.
—The Song of the Harper
Gillian’s body shuddered, then she stood absolutely, utterly still for a long, long time.
Rhys probably shouldn’t have been surprised that when she finally moved, it was to close her eyes, take a deep, trembling breath, and say, “So not funny, Rhys. But I have to admit, you really had me going, for a minute there.” Her eyes opened with a scowl. “Immortal? Jesus, give me a freaking break. You are one sick puppy, and I am leaving now,” she said evenly. “Do. Not. Try to stop me.”
Osiris preserve him.
“It’s true, Gillian. All of it. And there’s more.”
She marched toward the door, waving a hand over her shoulder. “Seriously? I don’t want to hear it.”
He folded his own hands behind his back to keep from grabbing her. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten what you just saw happen here in this very room. Haru-Re shooting spears of light? How about when Shahin transformed himself into a hawk? Just how would you explain all of that?”
“Obviously some kind of trickery. Smoke and mirrors. Illusions and stories designed to persuade impressionable young women into your bed and your cult. You just chose the wrong victim.”
Talk about denial.
“You are not a victim, Gillian. And I didn’t need any trickery to persuade you into my bed,” he reminded her. “You came all on your own.”
She blushed. “A mistake which won’t be repeated.”
“Very well. But what about the photo of your mother? Would you so readily give up a chance to find out what happened to her? Join us, and Nephtys will help you. I give you my word.”
She kept walking. “I’m just not that gullible, Rhys. There are no such things as immortals, shapeshifters, or fortune-tellers. You’re welcome to enjoy your bizarre little cult, but I want no part of it.”
Rhys cringed, glad the immortals of Khepesh were not here to hear the unflattering epithets. He feared Gillian would pay dearly for such insults.
He tried a different tack. “Gillian, you’re not really planning to hike through the desert all the way to Naqada by yourself, and dressed like that, are you?”
That stopped her. She looked down at the gorgeous but insubstantial, flowing dress he’d given her, and her bare feet.
She turned, her mouth pressed in a thin line. “Where are my own clothes?”
“As I recall, littering the floor of my study.”
Her flush deepened. He couldn’t help but feel a burst of smugness. At his expression, her chin went up and she started marching toward the hall, presumably to go and change. This time he didn’t stop himself. He closed the distance between them in two strides.
“Stop!” he ordered when she struggled against his hold. “Shh.” He waited until her resistance ceased, then murmured, “You took off your clothes for me, Gillian. You let me taste your body. You trusted me enough to do that, and much more.”
“That was...before,” she said. “I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?” He forced her chin up, so she had no choice but to look at him. “Didn’t know what, Gillian?”
Dismay clouded her green eyes. And something more.
Attraction.
He dipped under her hem and slowly ran his hand up her thigh and over her bare hip, caressed the smooth curve of her bottom. She’d stayed naked for him under the dress.
“I could take you right now. You’d let me. We both know it.”
She didn’t deny his claim. How could she? With an unhappy groan, she wrapped her fingers around his upper arms and tried to push him away. To hide her body’s reaction to his words, to his touch. Too late. He felt the alabaster hardness of her nipples, the sultry heat of her skin. And smelled the perfume of her desire.
“Trust me,” he whispered. “Trust me to bring you to a wondrous palace where Set-Sutekh’s immortals live in sensual splendor forever. Come to Khepesh with me. See it for yourself. Then decide if you will join us or not.”
Her voice hitched. “These things are impossible, Rhys. What you say is impossible.”
He searched her disbelieving eyes. “Is it? Let me prove it to you. All of it. You have nothing to lose, and eternity to gain.”
“And what of this blood sacrifice you talked about?” she asked. “It’s crazy, and I don’t want any part of it.”
At the mention of the ceremony, he tamped down a renewed surge of jealousy. It was the last thing he wanted, too. The thought of Seth drinking her blood, touching her body, was unbearable. But they would both get through it. “It’s just a small amount of blood. Nothing dangerous. And do you remember the pleasure I gave you earlier?”
She swallowed. Averted her gaze and nodded.
“The pleasure of the ritual is a thousand times greater.” Which was true.
Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be Rhys bestowing it. He wanted to howl with frustration, but he knew his duty. First and foremost, it was to Seth-Aziz, his friend, his leader.
“Come with me,” he murmured seductively. He had to get her to Khepesh. Afterward, he would find a way to change Seth’s mind.
She nibbled her lip. Tempted. But skeptical. “This is totally insane. None of what you say is physically possible.”
“But what if it is?” he murmured, and waited. “What if I am truly offering you a chance for immortality? Would you pass it up so easily?”
He could see she was wavering. From sheer curiosity, if nothing else. “If...if I consent to trust you,” she asked, “to let you show me these things you speak of, if I still want to leave, will you then let me go?”
“You won’t want to,” he assured her, certain of the lure of the powers she would be granted. As well as the temptation of himself.
That last was possibly a cruel deception, but at this point there was no way around it. The solace was that he would be as upset as she if they were ultimately denied each other.
But he had already told her the truth of the matter. She belonged to Khepesh now, willing or no. After discovering the tomb entrance, and especially after Haru-Re’s threat and witnessing Shahin’s shift to hawk, Seth would never let her go. Not alive. Nothing in Rhys’s power could change that.
“I promise to help you discover what became of your mother,” he added. Though, all indications were that she would not like what she was bound to learn. Not if Haru-Re was involved.
“But no blood, Rhys. I mean it.”
“Not if I have any say in the matter,” he vowed, and meant it, though ultimately he had little say in that, either.
“Okay,” she finally acceded, though reluctance still tugged at her. “I’ll come with you. But just for a look.”
He smiled and kissed her, wrapping his conscience in the silken heat of her response.
He pulled her close, pressing into her belly with the fierce erection that had again grown thick and long from want of her. A stallion’s erection.
She gave a soft exhale at its bold prodding at her soft flesh.
He groaned low. “Feel how I deny myself to win you over.”
After a second, the tension slowly left her body and she relaxed against him, easing out a sigh. “How can I be so terrified of you, Rhys Kilpatrick, and so damned attracted to you at the same time?”
He smiled into her hair, breathing in the scent of her. “Maybe you like your lovers dark and dangerous.”
“I never have before,” she confessed, making him wonder how many men she’d had. Not many, he’d wager.
“Which might explain the absence of a man in your life.”
He felt her wince. “For the moment,” she conceded.
“That is about to change,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her temple.
He just prayed he would be the one to change it.
“But first,” he said, pulling away before he gave in and did what his body was urging him to do, but which he would surely live to regret. “Are you ready?”
“For what?”
“For me to blow your notion of reality all to hell.”