Shades of the Wind (16 page)

beneath her wedding finery.

“So lovely,” he said, drawing her to him. The linen of his kameez and trousers felt

cool against her skin. His hands roamed up and down her bare back and for the first

time Catherine became aware he was trembling.

“Milord?” she questioned, drawing back from him. She looked up into his heavy

eyes, her own filled with concern.

“I need you, milady,” he said. “I need to complete the ritual that will bind us

together for all time.”

She put a hand up to his cheek. No words were necessary. Whatever ritual he

needed to perform, she would gladly accept.

He lifted her in his arms and laid her down upon the mattress once more. With one

quick jerk, he drew the kameez over his head then tossed it aside. Quickly, he kicked off

his sandals, stepped from his trousers, pushing the elastic waistband over his lean hips

and kicking the garment away.

“We will talk about the way you treat your clothing, milord,” she said with a grin.

He arched one brow. “Right now?” he asked, putting one knee on the mattress.

“You want to talk about my clothing right now?”

She held her arms up to him. “Perhaps later,” she said quietly.

He stretched out atop her, settling his naked body upon hers but keeping his

weight from crushing her by propping himself up on his elbows. He stared down into

her face, his gaze sweeping over each feature.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Memorizing every mole, every freckle, everything,” he responded. He lowered his

mouth to hers and kissed her, the touch fleetingly soft and infinitely arousing. When he

lifted his head, he smiled gently and called her his wife.

“My husband,” she stated.

He slipped off her so he could lie on his side and with light touches of his

fingertips, glided his hands over her flat belly. “I want to go very slowly with you,

Kate,” he said. “I want this night to be special for you.”

“It will be,” she said. “How can it not with a man as gentle as you?”

Khenty’s heart swelled at her compliment. Though every instinct screamed at him

to throw himself upon his wife and take her, he knew her to be a virgin and though—

unknown to her—he had laid with her twice before and given her pleasure, he had

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taken nothing more than a few drops of her sweet blood, binding her to him in ways

she would never understand.

“I never want to hurt you, Kate,” he pledged to her. “I would rather cut off my right

hand than cause you pain.”

He had not always been a man given to gentleness, he thought as he pulled her

against him. There had been many times in his life when he had been a vicious warrior

intent on winning at all costs. His sword had claimed the lives of thousands of enemies,

his dagger finishing what his blade had begun. He had stood by, watched as prisoners

were tortured for the information they tried to withhold and had never batted an eye.

Khenty Ben-Alkazar knew himself to be a man capable of extreme violence and exacting

retribution. Yet for the small woman lying beside him, her head upon his shoulder, he

would gladly give his life, endure the greatest of torments to keep her with him,

slaughter any man foolish enough to try to take her from him. Every warrior instinct

honed over the years in his muscular body was at the ready to defend Catherine and

keep her safe in a world he knew to be evil and pitiless.

“What is the significance of taking my blood?” she asked him quietly, and when he

flinched at the question, she drew back to look up at him. “Khenty?”

His eyes were troubled as he stared down at her. “I was not aware you knew what I

had done,” he said.

“I found the punctures on my neck,” she said. “Did you think I would not?”

He frowned so brutally she reached up to smooth away the heavy wrinkles

between his brows. “I wanted you to believe they were caused by an insect. Forgive me,

milady. I certainly never meant for you to know I had caused them.”

“Why did you take my blood?” she repeated.

“Did it frighten you when you realized the marks came from me?” he countered.

“It…” She thought about it for a moment. “It surprised me,” she said. “At first I did

believe I’d been bitten by a spider until you said you had taken from me.”

He groaned. “Did I reveal that?”

“You did and I put two and two together and realized what you must have meant.

I’ve heard tales of the undead coming to drink the blood of the living but since I know

you to be among the living, I suspected you had a reason.”

“Other women might have gone screaming into the night,” he said.

“I am not other women. I knew my destiny was here long before I met Bahru. That

is mostly why I did not fight my betrothal to him.”

“How did you know?”

She twined a lock of his hair around her index finger. “An old gypsy woman came

to the school where I was studying nursing.”

“A noble profession,” he observed.

“My father wanted each of us to learn a skill should we ever have the need to look

after ourselves. He was not sure he would have enough monies for nine daughters.”

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“I can see the wisdom of his actions but even if I had twenty daughters—”

“Which you certainly won’t have!” she stated firmly.

He grinned. “Ten?”

She arched a brow.

“Five?”

“Let’s say four sons and one daughter,” she replied.

“It could be the other way around,” he said smugly, “and if that happens I’d find a

way to provide four dowries for my daughters.”

“Yes, but you are a rich man,” she countered. “My father is not.”

He shrugged. “So what happened with the gypsy woman?”

“For a tuppence she offered to tell our fortunes.” Catherine smiled. “I was the only

one brave enough to allow her to read the cards for me.”

“You never fail to amaze me, wench,” he said. “So what did the old Rom say to

you?”

“That I would travel to the western lands and there spend my years in the service of

those who would become my people.”

Khenty’s eyebrows shot up. “And what did you take that to mean?”

“That I would use my nursing skills,” she said then her lips pursed. “I had no idea

my father would betroth me so soon after I completed my studies. I was disappointed

that I would not have a chance to help people and when I mentioned it to Bahru, he

waved my suggestion aside and told me I was stupid.”

“I believe we know which of you the truly stupid one is,” Khenty said with

clenched teeth.

She shifted against him, looking him in the eye. “I know you want me to teach the

children of Anubeion and I can do that, but is it possible for me to use my skills here as

well, milord? Are there those in need of nursing?”

He nodded. “From time to time there is need of a healer. More importantly though,

there are those in need of care, milady, who have passed on from this world. It is their

bodies that are in need of respect and preparation.”

“I can do that,” she stated.

“Milady, you don’t understand—”

“I could help you, milord,” she stated emphatically. “I want to.”

“I am speaking of embalming, milady, of touching the dead, of bathing them.”

“I am not squeamish and I have no fear of the dead.”

He stared into her lovely green eyes. “It was the duty of my sister Kebechet to wash

the organs of those who are being embalmed and to place them in the canopic jars,” he

said. “She also gave the souls water as they waited for their trip to Duat. I assumed her

duties when she died.”

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“Then let me perform those duties for you, husband,” she said. “It would be my

honor to work alongside you.”

“Kate—”

“Please?” she asked, caressing his jaw. “Allow me to help.”

He smiled. “If it is something you feel compelled to do…”

“I do.”

“In that case, I would be overjoyed to have you with me.”

She smiled and snuggled against him. “That pleases me, milord.”

“You asked about the blood taking,” he reminded her, lifting her hand from his

chest.

“Yes.”

He turned his face so his lips grazed her palm and then brought her hand to his

mouth. His lips traveled to her upturned wrist before he placed her hand to his heart.

“It was necessary, milady. It is part of the Ritual of Joining that is eons old. With the

First Taking, I now had a part of you inside me, blending with my essence so I might

know where you are at all times though we are thousands of miles apart. Your soul and

mine are forever entwined. With the Second Taking, your essence became preserved

within my body so that you will live forever as a part of me. It deepened the bond

between us. Where I go, you too will go. Where you go, so will I also be there. With the

Third Taking, nothing under heaven or in the deepest pits of hell will be able to keep us

apart one from the other. We will be joined for as long as there is time and beyond into

the Abyss of Being and we will become as One.”

Catherine felt tears gathering in her eyes. “That is beautiful.”

“It is a part of what and who I am, beloved,” he said. “To accept me is to accept the

Ritual of Joining. My father set down the rules for Joining in the distant past and it is his

wishes to which I must accede.” His hand tightened on hers. “Are you ready for the last

Taking, which must be done of your own free will and while you are aware of what I

do?”

She nodded, her heart pounding for fear he would hurt her.

“Never,” he swore. “While the First and Second came from your throat, the Third

must be taken from over your heart, for it is your heart that will be forever in my

keeping.” He splayed his palm over the center of her chest. “It is from the very core of

you that I must meld our essences.”

“Do what you need to, milord,” she said. “I am yours for all time.”

“The essence I take this time will bring you over into my world, Catherine,” he said.

“There will be no turning back.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Not fully, but you will,” he said. “You will be able to see the dead, to talk and walk

with them, to accompany them on their journey to the Afterlife.”

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Catherine’s eyes widened and she drew in a breath. “I must go into the

Underworld?”

He smiled. “With me beside you every step of the way.”

Tucking her lower lip between her teeth, she held his gaze for a long while then

relaxed. “I trust you, milord.”

His hand moved to the globe of her breast and molded it, doing nothing more than

holding her sweet flesh in the cup of his palm.

“For years I have dreamed of someone with whom I could spend my life,” he said.

“It has been lonely since my sister died. My only company has been Kaelin and the

staff.”

“And Nyria?” she asked.

“That is over,” he said. “She eased my loneliness and my need, but there is no

longer a reason for her to remain at Anubeion. When Bahru leaves, she will leave with

him.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” she said, holding her breath as his thumb stroked

gently over her nipple.

“Now and again, others like me come to Anubeion. It is rare that they do. When it

happens, it is usually at the death of someone very important.”

“Those like you?”

“Other psychopomps,” he said. “Every religion has one and the western lands are

where most bring their dead. Beneath these mountains are the Underworlds and

Judgment Halls of many beliefs. Those of us gathered will join in a procession to lead

the important one to his or her final rest. It is a matter of honor among us.”

“Morrigunia will come here?” she asked.

“No, but there will be a descendant of hers—one of her Reapers—who will,” he

replied. “Psychopomps from many religions will come as well. They are descendants of

their Great One, just as I am a descendant of Anubis. The Great Ones have earned their

own rests and it is up to those of us who are of their blood to carry on for them now.”

Khenty bent forward to capture her nipple between his lips to end the talk. At her

gasp of breath, he grazed that sensitive nubbin with his teeth and grinned as she

threaded her hands through his hair to hold him.

“Milord!” she whispered as he laved the burgeoning flesh and drew strongly upon

it, his hand still cupping the globe of her breast.

With infinite gentleness, he slipped his leg over hers and pressed his knee to the

junction of her thighs. Her immediate shiver sent waves of delight down his spine. His

lips drew upon her nipple, his hand massaged the tender flesh, and he increased the

pressure of his knee to the apex of her thighs.

He shifted his attention to her other breast and had to lightly press down on

Catherine’s chest to keep her from levitating off the mattress. Her back had arched,

sending her nipple deeper into his warm mouth, and her hold on his hair had increased.

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A light film of moisture was gathering on the spiky lower curls of her mons. Beneath his

cheek, he could detect an increase in the speed of her heart and her breath.

With his teeth nibbling gently at her turgid peak, he slid his hand down her body,

over her quivering belly and spiking his fingers through those sweet nether curls,