Vampire Sheikh (8 page)

He shifted to the other breast. She barely had time to take a breath. The sharp sting of his bite pierced her again. Her body convulsed, and an even more intense pleasure swept over her. She screamed with it, reveling in the pure carnality of it. Of him. She was barely hanging on to consciousness. She fought to stay with him. She wanted to feel everything, every sensation, every amazing second of his touch.

She was panting uncontrollably now, gasping, crying out, floundering in a viscous sea of his power and of
endless pleasure. Lost to all sense of time, of self, of her own will.

She dragged her eyelids up and saw him looking down at her. There was blood on his lips, more on his chin. A smear of scarlet slashed across his cheekbone, and he had a harsh, savage, unreadable expression on his face. His long, sharp, blindingly white fangs gleamed as they dripped with her blood. Her heart quailed. She fought to keep her eyes open as he slowly, oh so maddeningly slowly, lowered them toward the throbbing vein on the side of her neck.

Oh, God.

His mouth closed over her throat.

Her eyelids fluttered closed and she stilled her heaving breath.

A burst of harrowing pain razored through her flesh and then blossomed into the most excruciating pleasure she'd ever experienced. It seized her. And shook her. And turned her instantly inside out.

A scream froze in her throat, choked off by the tingling feel of her life's blood gushing into his mouth. Blackness began to descend over her mind.

And as she lost consciousness, she wondered…

Would she ever awaken again?

H
e drank.

Sinking into the dizzy delirium of a feeding that was far too long overdue, Seth let the precious liquid slide down his gullet, swallowing convulsively. It hit the pit of his stomach like a dozen shots of the strongest liquor all at once.

His body bucked under the impact, nerve endings buzzing like a hive of hornets attacking an intruder in their nest. His whole body burned like acid.

And then the buzzing ebbed, and the succor flowed into his veins, renewing his strength, expanding his power, banishing the weakness as it absorbed into his starving body.

As he slowly recovered, his cock stretched and thickened, desperately seeking the potent release of blood sex. He craved the intensity of being inside a woman when he fed. He ached to be inside this one.

Her blood was like a rare aphrodisiac. He wanted to ram himself into her and take her like she'd never been taken before. Until she screamed his name and begged for mercy.

Except she already had. And then she'd fainted. He wasn't going to take her like that. Unconscious. Unaware.

He wasn't going to take her at all.

This was Josslyn Haliday, the woman who had brought him nothing but trouble, and the only thing he wanted from her was this. To fulfill Sekhmet's curse and nourish his blood for another year.

Having sex with her would complicate matters. It was possible to bind a woman for life if she allowed herself to surrender completely to his powers. His seed did not carry the possibility of new life. It carried the germ of addiction, as did his bite. It took a strong woman to resist their combined force.

He wanted no part of a possible bond with her.

He only wanted her blood.

So he took it. Greedily. Plenty of it. Filling his belly and his veins with the power of her mortality and the essence of her life.

Even unconscious she writhed and moaned in pleasure, her darkened mind drowning in the dreamworld of his irresistible magic, her legs splaying in invitation for more. It was difficult to turn away from the pleasures she offered.

But he did.

And when he'd drunk his fill, he rolled off her body, his chest heaving with gratification, his body thoroughly
sated—in that way at least—and his strength finally, finally restored to full.

He lay there for a long while, listening to her steady, rhythmic breathing, making sure she was recovering from her ordeal. He'd taken much, but not enough to harm.

Physically, anyway.

It couldn't have been easy on her. Submitting herself like this to him, for her body to be used by a stranger in ways she'd probably only imagined in nightmares before today. All for the sake of her sisters.

A prickle of shame sifted through him at that. He hadn't lied to her, exactly. But he had misled her badly. Her sisters were already free, because, although not yet immortal, they had both joined the
per netjer
and sworn with their lives to keep the secrets of the immortal world safe. Josslyn would never be allowed back into the mortal realm unless she did, too. Gemma knew that. It's why she was so angry with him, for his half-truths. Well he was angry, too. He'd lost
his
sister, and it would be a miracle if Khepesh survived another year. All because of the woman lying next to him.

It didn't matter if Nephtys had sent her to him, believing this woman was destined to be his soul mate.
He
didn't believe it. And he didn't want her. Every time he'd look at her she would only remind him of the part she'd played, however unwittingly, in the eclipse of everything he loved.

She stirred, and her hand reached for him in her sleep. He moved away, not wishing her touch. But he turned to look at her for the first time since the fever had cooled.

A bolt of shock went through him.
Sekhmet's teeth.
Her fair skin was smeared with scarlet streaks of blood; the linens beneath her were soaked with dark pools of it. He wiped a hand over his face. It came away stained with crimson.

Had he been such a savage with her?

Normally he took his sacrifices with barely a spilled drop. Never like this. Okay, last week, sharing magic with Gemma and Shahin, it had gotten a bit messy—but only because he'd been unaccustomed to stopping after only a few sips and the blood had poured from her wounds before he could heal them. But this…

He made a moue of disgust with himself. He'd obviously lost control. It was unforgivable.

Sliding out of bed, he gently gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bath chamber, sending a spell ahead of them. By the time he'd bespelled his trousers off, the deep Roman tub was filled with steaming, spice-scented water. He stepped in and sank down with her still in his arms into the warm, fragrant bath.

“Mmm,” she murmured, curling into his body as he settled and reclined against the slanted back of the tub. He waved a hand over her eyes so she wouldn't awaken yet. He didn't want her getting the wrong impression.

With a wet Red Sea sponge, he gently cleansed the blood from her face and throat, taking extra care around the puncture marks. Even so, she gasped in pleasure as he passed the sponge over them. The bite of a vampire was infected with a spell of erotic sensation that lasted several weeks. Every time the wounds were touched, she would experience a jolt of orgasmic pleasure.

He dropped his gaze to her breasts. He'd also bitten
her there, as he'd suckled on her nipples. Two tiny red punctures sat above each pretty, rosy tip, further proof of his loss of control. Merciful Osiris. When had he last done
that?

And yet, an unwilling spill of desire rippled over him at the sight of his marks upon her flesh. Without thinking, he rolled out from under her and canted over her. Lifting her upper body from the water, he put his mouth to one lush breast. He tongued the nipple and it reacted instantly, coming to pert attention. Pleased, he did the same for the other.

She moaned and unconsciously lifted up, offering them to him. He shouldn't, but he couldn't resist the temptation. He covered one and sucked, licking and teasing it until her moans turned throaty. He switched again, this time sending the sensations of his tongue down between her legs along with her breasts. It was a magic spell every
shemsu
woman he knew enjoyed tremendously.

Josslyn did, too. Her thighs fell open, and her hands reached for him, her fingers grasping his hair for purchase. Her cries became more urgent.

He brought her to the brink and then swept the tip of his tongue over the bite marks. She shattered. Her body convulsed, making at least the dozenth climax of the night. He could make them go on till dawn if he wished, so much mastery did he have over a woman's body.

The discomfort of his own unfulfilled need was small enough payment. This was the only reward he could give her for her sacrifice. He would take no relief for himself, but he was, after all, a gentleman.

At length her body quieted, and he felt her swallow.
He lifted his head just in time to see her awaken and gasp, and start to scramble backward in the tub, water sloshing. Then suddenly she seemed to remember everything and halted in mid-scramble.

“Oh!” she cried out breathily.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. He sat up, giving her space, running his hands through his wet hair to get it out of his eyes.

She watched him, her own eyes like full moons, and licked her lips. “I think you probably know,” she said.

“Better than you've ever felt in your life?”

She nibbled her bottom lip as she thought about that. “I'm not sure,” she finally said, reaching up to touch her neck.

He grabbed her hand. “I wouldn't.” More water sloshed.

She looked spooked. “Why not?”

He chose his words. “Let's just say…there are ramifications of a vampire bite.”

She blinked. “Such as?”

He figured a demonstration would illustrate his point best. He lowered his hand to her breast, and before she could scoot away, he brushed his thumb slowly and deliberately across the two tiny wounds.

She gasped and instantly dissolved into another orgasm.

He teased it out, and made it good for her, solely using his touch on the bites.

When her body calmed and she opened her eyes again, she looked stricken. “My God,” she whispered. “That's—”

He leaned back. “Yes. I know.”

“Is this… Is it permanent?”

“Regretfully—” he paused “—or possibly mercifully, no. A few weeks normally.”

She sat up and glanced down to scan her body. “Did you…are there more?”

“No,” he answered. “Just those, and your neck. A bandage usually protects them fairly well against the reaction, if you are bothered by it.”

“Who wouldn't be?” she murmured hoarsely.

He just smiled. He rarely indulged in blood-play of the variety Haru-Re enjoyed so much—biting a woman just for the sensual pleasure of it. He was only compelled to feed once a year, and that's what he did. He wasn't interested in the unpredictable complications of hedonistic excesses. Such as those his own sister suffered because of Ray's indiscriminate lust.

Seth had, however, often enjoyed a woman's company beyond her sacrifice, and he hadn't found one yet who wasn't enthralled by the after-effects of his bite.

“Indeed,” he said, and noticed Josslyn had caught sight of his rampant arousal, rising from the water like a stubborn column from a temple ruin. Her cheeks blossomed like opium poppies.

Her gaze shot to his, the obvious question burning in them.

“No,” he said. “We didn't have sex.” He lifted a shoulder with a wry smile. “At least I didn't.”

She bit her lip again.

“And no,” he anticipated her next question. “I don't want to.” His cock might want to, but it would survive the deprivation.

He rose from the water, not bothering with modesty.
He was proud of his close-to-perfect body, so why hide it? And if she grew a little covetous, well, so much the better. A man was allowed his vanity, wasn't he? If nothing else.

He shook the water from his hair and flicked his fingers at his robe, which flew to him and slid onto his body. “Stay as long as you wish,” he told her. “I'll have clothes laid out for you.”

He was on his way out of the bath chamber when she called after him, “Wait. What about my sisters?”

Ah. So very single-minded. He turned back to her. “Your sisters are free to move about the country as they please. You'll find Gemma with Sheikh Shahin at his oasis encampment, where they live. Gillian, I'm afraid, is not here. She's in Petru, situated about fifty kilometers to the north, on the east bank of the Nile, living with her lover, Rhys Kilpatrick, and your parents.”

She surged up so fast a deluge of water splashed from the tub. “My
parents?
” she exclaimed, her expression stunned.

He frowned, instantly regretful. “I'm sorry. How thoughtless of me. Of course you didn't know. You must ask Gemma when you see her. It's best she tell you.”

“They're
alive?
” Josslyn asked in shock. “
Both
of them?”

“I believe so. As I said, better speak to Gemma about it. I really only know the sketchiest details.”

“My God,” she breathed. “So it's really true?” She looked overwhelmed. Tears filled her eyes, and a reluctant tenderness for her tugged at his heart. Sitting there in the middle of the huge bathtub she looked small
and fragile, like a beautiful abandoned waif in the body of a woman.

The ends of her flaxen-colored hair hung in wet strands on her back, but the tangled curls around her head were dry, surrounding her face like an intricate golden halo.

He wanted to go to her and hold her in his arms, give her comfort in her emotional chaos.

“Can I see them?” she whispered hopefully.

Which soundly crushed the ill-advised impulse. “If that is what you wish,” he said. Haru-Re would no doubt be thrilled to have her at Petru. Despite his earlier resolve of indifference, the thought sent a stab of anger through him. “In either case, I am finished with you,” he stated, briefly wondering with no little irritation if it was more to convince himself than her.

He turned and walked out, but not before he saw her lips part in surprise. “So I'm free to go?” she called hesitantly after him. He heard the water swish.

“Whenever you like,” he said over his shoulder.

As far as Shahin's oasis, at any rate. If she and Gemma decided to flee to Petru, good riddance to them. In the meantime, he could count on Shahin to see that Josslyn didn't go anywhere in the outside world where she might reveal their secrets. Yes, and to retrieve those incriminating letters she'd sent.

Eventually Seth would have to decide on her final disposition—
shemsu
or
shabti.
But at the moment he had more important things to see to, now that his strength had returned.

“I'll have one of the guards take you to your sister at the oasis,” he called back to her.

She appeared at the bath chamber door, rivulets of water running down her lovely body, her brilliant blue eyes uncertain. She lifted her wrists. “What about these?”

He stared at them for a moment, irrationally unwilling to remove the silver cuffs and chain, the indisputable claim of his ownership over her.

He did not want her in his bed. But against all reason, he didn't want her in any other man's bed, either. As long as she stayed inside Khepesh, that was a distinct possibility. Every immortal was allowed to bed anyone in the
per netjer,
given mutual consent. Josslyn Haliday was a beautiful, sensual woman. He had no doubt there would be many of the
shemsu
men, and probably some women, who would be delighted to invite her to linger awhile in the palace.

Not a good idea. He wanted her out of his sight. Out of the reach of temptation.