Touch of the Fire God [Scions of the Ankh 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (7 page)

“Eat now. We will speak later.”

When Rene whirled around, she was alone in the large, spotless kitchen. The necklace around her neck grew warm against her skin, and she idly played with it, deep in thought. She needed to get home and fast; she was sure she was holding onto her sanity with a frayed string.

* * * *

When Rene returned to her room, she found a manila envelope and a package wrapped in brown paper set neatly in the middle of her bed. Carefully opening the envelope, she removed the will of Franklin Summit, which had a beautifully scribed note attached to it.

Dr. Rene Selkis,

I sincerely apologize for my obvious lack of manners. It is not a custom of mine to leave a guest unattended, but a situation with my company has forced me to address matters with the greatest of urgency.

You will find Franklin Summit’s will, of course, with a rather interesting package to help you further understand the motives driving Franklin to his death.

Anaise has promised me that she will see to your every need until I can resume my duties as your host and guide.

Much Regards,

Jonathan Thoth

Well, at last at least she had something to do. She sat upon the plush bed and immediately went to understanding the rather short will. It was pretty customary, with Franklin stating that he had no immediate family and should something happen to him, she was to be notified and made executor of his estate.

He wanted a simple funeral, but did insist that should he not be on American soil at the time of his death, he was to be transported to and buried in his homeland.

She was now owner of the house at which she had sometimes stayed at between camps and school. Jonathan was listed as the person to take care of any artifacts he had acquired and was instructed to liquidate them if she so chose.

A tear found its way down her cheek. Franklin Summit had always remained aloof, not cold, but not encouraging of a relationship either.

It was all very clinical to say the least, as if she was some sort of project. But he had taken care of her, good care of her. Now she would never again see the elderly man who refused to accept his golden years. In the end, it was the reason he died. Franklin Summit was too old to be traipsing about trying to find rumored artifacts.

Rene ripped open the package and gulped.

The cover of the book appeared to be made of pure gold. Inscribed across it were hieroglyphics she had no chance in hell of understanding, but as she ran her fingers across it in wonder and looked at the engraving again, it was in English. No sign of the hieroglyphics.

Rene flung the book on the bed, jumped up, and stepped back until she was about five feet away.

What the hell was that?

She was done questioning her mind. Clearly she had seen what she had seen. She approached the bed with much trepidation; surely Jonathan wouldn’t have given her something to cause her harm?

When she gathered sufficient courage to deal with the situation, she sat down slowly upon the bed and tentatively reached out for the heavy book. Now she could clearly read the title,
The War Among Immortals
.

Interesting
, she thought.

She bit her lip in concentration, wondering what would happen if she opened the book. Locusts? Disease? Mayhem? Compelled by the same curiosity that had afflicted Bluebeard’s wife before her and Pandora before that, she opened the mysterious object anyway.

Right before her eyes, the symbols transformed themselves into letters she could understand. No wonder Franklin went after this; it was fascinating, priceless, and dangerous.

It was also meticulously written and carefully phrased, so that, within moments, Rene found herself ensconced in a world long since dead, if ever it had existed.

It told of powerful travelers from far away who came to Earth seeking to learn of its inhabitants and to help the people. Though the Earth natives, being so very primitive, were afraid of them when they first arrived, the travelers began to help the people with crops, shelter, and medicine, showing the non-aggressive intent behind their visit.

However, the people could not see them as anything less than gods and eventually began to worship them. The travelers, believing this to be harmless, and also believing that, in time, they could teach the people that they were not gods, just a more advanced race of people, indulged the people for a while.

Some of these travelers, however, became seduced by the idea of being gods and encouraged the behavior.

There existed a law unto the immortal people that they were not to impact a civilization with any negative actions that could be detrimental to its development.

Some of the immortals feared this worship would lead to dependency upon them and prevent Earth’s people from developing naturally. They felt it to be a form of slavery.

The other travelers, addicted to the adulation, cited their usefulness among the people. They encouraged sacrifices in their name and demonstrated their power in cruel ways.

A war erupted and some were banished from Earth. And though they were near-immortal, they had weaknesses that only their kind could exploit, and they killed some of their own.

Rene pushed the book away and felt a heavy lump in her heart. It was the saddest story she had ever read. The scribe of the book had managed to capture emotions as he wrote. It was as if each word was meant to be remembered and learned. Whether it was true or not, Rene felt a great sense of loss. This story spoke to her, made it hers. She sniffled.

“Perhaps that is enough reading for this day,” Ralabos said, quietly stepping into her bedroom. She ignored the cheerleader within her who jumped for joy at seeing him.

“I agree,” she acknowledged. “This is the saddest book I have ever read. So much death, greed, and loss of loved ones.”

She closed the book and lovingly ran her hand across the deeply engraved letters. “I now understand Franklin’s passion for obtaining it, though I don’t think he counted on dying to get it.”

“There were some deaths that were felt more deeply than others,” Ralabos rasped in a low voice.

“So you know of this story?” Rene looked at the man whose stormy eyes seemed to be looking far away and long ago, at something not in the room.

“I know it well, zenj’a.” Quiet seemed to creep about the room, a sadness clouded the normally wicked gleam in his eyes.

Rene had the sudden compulsion to wipe away the sadness she saw there. “It’s odd, though. There are no names in the book.”

“Names can reveal a lot.” Ralabos paused, choosing his words carefully. “It’s best sometimes to let things reveal themselves.”

“Yeah, like Franklin Summit’s body,” she quipped. At his raised eyebrow, she continued. “He is the reason I am here. He took care of me when I was child, up until early adulthood. He died and I’m here to bury him properly. Only, they can’t find his body.”

A small quirk played at Ralabos’ lips before it was quickly gone.

“Well, I assure you, you will find out what has happened to Franklin Summit. Until then, I came to take you for a walk on the grounds. It is a beautiful night, and you love gardens at night, when they are quiet, with a sufficient breeze to rouse the aroma of the jasmine.”

Now how did he know that? Rene wondered. This man appeared to be talented with his tongue in more ways than one. He held out his arm for her. It was such an Old World gesture that she laughed and accepted it.

It would do her good to go for a walk; being cooped up in vehicles the last few days had left her no time for exercise.

When they reached the gardens, Rene looked at him, hoping he didn’t catch her studying him.

“How did you know I like the night and the jasmine? Have you read my diary?” she joked.

“Sometimes you don’t listen well, zenj’a.” He laughed, lightly patting her arm, which was entwined with his. “I’ve told you we are not complete strangers. We are merely taking the time to reacquaint ourselves.”

Rene stopped in her tracks. Those were the words her dream Ralabos had said to her. That could only mean one thing.

“So we have met before. I would think I would remember a person such as you.”

“In time, though I do like the idea of us exploring one another.”

“I said nothing of exploring.” All kinds of chills went through her; she was getting excited just thinking about
exploring
with Mr. Ralabos Smith.

“You’ve said nothing about not wanting to,” he countered, staring into her dark eyes, which were clearly getting glazed over with lust for him.

He was pursuing her relentlessly and without shame and for the first time in her life, Rene felt she could finally take part in the game of sexual tension and flirting she had only witnessed through colleagues.

It was a heady experience, especially with a specimen as extraordinary as Ralabos.

“And still you do not protest the notion,” he pointed out as his lips descended on hers quickly. Instantly she was wrapped in a blanket of heat.

Ralabos pulled her slim hips flush to his. He ground his erection against her, slowly at first. He could feel her nipples aroused and demanding his attention as they stabbed against his chest.

Her scent, like no other, wrapped around his cock and practically stroked it. He knew her thoughts, knew this was all so very new to her. Knew she wanted him fiercely. Knew she was afraid of him because of her reaction to him. He used this knowledge shamelessly as he grabbed her ass and squeezed, loving the yelp she let out in surprise.

His other hand softly kneaded her breast through her shirt, which he then opened, knowing those annoying little things Thoth called buttons were flying to the ground.

Frustrated now, because another similarly confounding garment lay beneath the first, he found it easiest to divest her of it by ripping it in half.

She kissed him even more deeply, her arousal increasing with his rough handling.

He took her hard nipple into his hot mouth, sucking on it eagerly, licking and teasing it incessantly. He wasn’t in her body yet, but he was in her mind, and he knew she fought the urge to moan.

“Let me hear it, zenj’a,” he murmured against the other nipple as he switched sides. “Will you deny me the sound of your voice crying out in passion for me?”

He lightly nipped her in the fleshy part of her breast, and her back arched, and she gripped him tighter, stroking the thick, braided hair.

He saw her desire to have his hair blanketing her body as he rode her hard.

“You will make me spill where I stand if you do not stop,” he said against her breast, paying no heed to his own wanton behavior.

She caressed his neck, cradling him closer, holding his head where she liked to be licked best.

His hand went to her pants; another one of those buttons popped. Then inside her underwear, which was soaked with her juices. She was so slippery and wet. He spread the hot liquid around, causing her so much sensitive pleasure that she released a moan.

Boldly, she thrust her hand into his pants, easily, seeing as how he liked comfortable, loose clothing.

He was so hard for her and only her. It amazed her that she had put him in this state of want. He pulled back slowly as she gripped his cock, then pushed forward. He groaned as she tightened her hand as much as possible, but was unable to fully encircle him. He pushed again, and she used her other hand to pull him forward.

“You are most impatient.” He laughed, softly nibbling on her neck, her ear. “But you must wait for your pleasure; I intend to indulge mine at this moment.”

He disengaged himself from her grip and dropped before her gracefully. “Remove this clothing,” he demanded, eyeing her pants as the enemy. She hesitated, and then slowly and shyly she pulled them down until they rested at her knees.

She would not think about what she was doing right now. Maybe later. Maybe. She knew her underwear was soaked. She could smell her own scent now, and he, too, took a deep breath, filling his lungs with it.

She wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t prepared for the feel of his mouth placing a gentle kiss on her exposed cleft. His tongue darted between the folds, seeking her pearl, and he sucked on it.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, trying to keep her balance, for her legs had just turned into an insubstantial, gelatinous mass.

His tongue was beyond talented—gifted, it would seem. It speared its way through her folds and licked the cream that he had caused to flow.

She gyrated against his face, pulling it closer. Then he began to hum, so low in his throat that it caused vibrations on her clit, vibrations that were deliriously sensual.

Then he added fingers to the mix. Hot, thick fingers prodded her to open her stance, and she greedily complied.

He rubbed her and heat seemed to emanate from his hands. He inserted one finger, then another, in rhythmic strokes, never breaching her hymen. Warmth coursed through her as he tuned her body into an Earth-shattering orgasm.

“Ralabos!” she screamed hoarsely, the waves breaking over her, drowning her. He placed his mouth against her clitoris and sucked lightly, wrapping his hands around her ass and pulling her close as she continued to come.