Altar of Anubis (3 page)

“This is what you have shown to us, your teachings from the time before.” He moved toward her, slowly but inexorably, his arms out as if he intended to embrace her.

“You mean what Reynar taught you.” She watched his approach. His steps were as measured as his words, the swaying hips hitting left, then right, with a hypnotic rhythm.

“That is what I said… Reynar.” He grabbed her shoulders, not leaning in like she wanted him to, not taking her in his arms, touching, teasing. He cocked his head to one side, staring beyond her into the empty corridor. “Already Selesma is spreading unease among the others. You
will
come with me, Reynar. Now.”

The force and determination of his voice was as intoxicating as his walk and his hands upon her. But she knew it was an act. Not that he wasn’t commanding -- his presence filled the room, licked at her nipples and thighs. But he had told her too much about their ways, their oh-so-complicated rules, for her to believe that he would force her into coming with him.

But she’d be damned if she was going to…

Imeut stepped away from her and into the corridor. The blue linen kilt with its tight weave faded to the same transparent pale cream of her gown. Through it she could see the dark nest of pubic hair and --

He turned and she took her first halting steps after him. The hard muscles of his ass and thighs rippled visibly beneath the linen. His back was straight and strong, the shoulders squared as if he dared her not to watch him move.

He belonged on a catwalk or an underwear ad.

And he wanted her.

Part 2

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music. --
Friedrich Nietzsche

Imeut led her to a great hall, the ambient light slowly dimming as if some sunset were occurring on the other side of the alabaster walls. On their way, they passed lesser rooms. Nowhere were there doors. The sounds of lovemaking trailed after them, greeted them at each corner turned. Nor was it just the sounds of sex that traveled with them. Even with her attention glued to the perfect, confident flow of Imeut’s body, the sight of entangled flesh teased the periphery of Rene’s vision.

By the time they reached the hall, she was shaking. She saw one woman, a man at each hole. Limbs blended, became indistinguishable. The smell of sex and sweat tinted the air. Bodies separated, new partners were welcomed.

He wanted her to partake in this?

Her chest constricted, the muscles locked up tight so that she couldn’t draw breath. She would never dream this up -- or, if she did, she would have dreamt a better body to go with it. In his arms, in his eyes, she felt desirable. But stripped bare in front of so many eyes?

She could feel her mouth quivering, felt fresh tears on her cheeks.

Gently, he put a hand on her arm. “Reynar, our future -- your very life -- depends on your acceptance. And if you die here…”

He looked away, but Rene didn’t need him to finish. He already had explained it to her when they were in the bedroom. Here she would die a true death, extinguishing her soul and damning that of her murderer. Responsible for her own soul and that of her enemy’s, Reynar had refused to cross over.

She stared back into the room, saw that some people were watching, their gazes fixed on her even as they continued moving to the thrusts and caresses of their lovers.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “No one on my plane… not like this.”

“Shhh…” He grabbed her hand but, instead of pulling her into the room as she feared, he led her further down the hall.

Before them, Rene could see pools set in the alabaster floors. Candles lit the room, but Imeut raised his free hand, spoke one word and a wind raced through the corridor to blow out the flames.

She twisted her hand free of his as he entered the water.

He undid his kilt, let it float for a few seconds before it disappeared into nothingness. Holding his arms out, he challenged her, “You wanted to be alone.”

The room held a faint glow of light from the corridor and the far end of the pool. She shook her head. “But we’re not.”

“What do you see, Reynar?”

Heart racing, she looked at the walls, peered into the corners. “Shadows, shifting…”

“Have you ever seen a shadow that remained still?” Moving through the water to reclaim her, Imeut laughed.

She watched his lower body emerge from the water, her breath catching at the first full view of his cock. It was erect, the tip stretching up to a point just below his navel. Water dripped down the dark skin, glistened along the thick black patch of hair. She licked her lips then closed her eyes against the display of hunger.

“Look at me, Reynar.”

She heard the wet slap of his foot against the floor, the sound followed by his hands closing around her wrists. Opening her eyes, she let him coax her into the pool. The water was cool against her skin, causing her to gasp as it filtered past her labia to chill her clit. Releasing her wrists, Imeut ran his hands down her hips, pulling her closer as he eased the shift up to her waist. He could have let it disappear, but he let the fabric drink up the water. Holding the cloth up around the bottom of her breasts, he dipped his head, sucking at one nipple and then the other through the thin fabric. He pushed the shift higher, and she raised her arms.

He tossed the garment behind him, then kissed her neck. Down her body he went, submerging himself. He pushed her legs apart, separated her lower lips with his tongue. She looked down, saw another shadow swimming through the water. As Imeut came up for air, another mouth replaced his between her legs.

Imeut slid behind her, his chest against her back. “Relax, my love.” He sucked along her neck, his strong hands kneading her breasts, pulling the nipples taut in a rhythm that matched the teasing below.

She heard the soft splash of more bodies entering the water; more hands touched her, lifted her until she was floating on her back. She turned her head, searching for Imeut’s mouth. A stranger stared back at her, kissed her. They were steering her body toward a shelf in the water where Imeut waited. He was sitting on the shelf, his back against the pool’s ledge.

“You left me,” she whispered when he pulled her onto his lap.

“Only so we can be together always.” He put a hand between her thighs, thumbing her clit until she threw her head back and let the soft pressure of another man’s hands separate her legs. “They are so hungry to taste you, my love, to be tasted by you. Try to take the pleasure we offer.”

The constant stroke of his hand along her pussy smothered her protest with her own moans. She squirmed, tried to tell him she wanted him, only him. A foreign mouth closed around her breast, the man’s tongue holding her nipple firm against his upper palate as he sucked at her flesh.

“Imeut…”

“Let me fill you, Reynar,” he whispered against her ear.

“Yes.” Urgently she lifted and then settled on his shaft in one hard stroke. The others were shadows. This -- Imeut filling her -- was real.

Imeut ran his fingers down her arms, guided her hands onto the cocks of the men around them. She lost count of how many men there were. She felt a mouth at each breast, another between her labia, the head lifting and sinking as she stroked Imeut’s cock with her cunt.

Imeut, kissing her cheek, her mouth, encouraged her to listen. “Can you hear it?”

She closed her eyes, felt the first wave of an orgasm roll through her as sound burst into the room. She froze at the top of her stroke, her hands gripping the men tightly as her thighs and cunt squeezed at Imeut. She heard singing, dark and primal, like the room, their bodies. The rhythm matched the fucking as if it played for them.

Imeut grabbed her hips, lifted his ass and pulled her sharply down onto his cock one last time. “It does play for us -- for you.”

She felt him tremble inside her, felt the seizing muscles of the other men as they came. They slipped from her hands, melting back into the water, leaving her alone with Imeut.

“Do you see now?” he asked, wrapping her in his embrace.

“Only flashes.” Images of the past fell around her like raindrops, and she grabbed his arms. “Hold me tighter.”

* * * *

Two days later, Rene was still fighting to control the visions. If she survived Selesma’s challenge, she would have as much of eternity as she wished to remember what had gone before. Right now she needed to sort through the memories and find the one that would end the war Selesma, motivated by lust and greed, had declared against her so many millennia ago.

Shifting in her seat, Rene lifted her gaze to where Imeut stood in front of a black altar. It was a twin to the one she had encountered at the studio. Only this one was in use. A male, deceptively young in appearance, was stretched out on it, his lithe body wrapped in scented linen. At the foot of the dais, several more figures knelt, one openly crying.

She looked away, saddened by the ceremony and the knowledge that, with her arrival, some of the immortals had chosen to leave this plane -- to pass over to what Imeut referred to as the godhead. She felt a hot lick of anger, realized it was her own and pushed it back down. Despite the tears, the passing over ceremony was meant to be a time of rejoicing, a time when one of the immortals left behind the facsimile of communion this plane offered to become part of the godhead, The Eternal One.

She was still having a hard time accepting this new world even though she no longer questioned its reality. Even harder to grasp was its philosophy. She had the power to defeat Selesma, always had. But if she destroyed Selesma, Rene would be bound to this plane, never capable of passing over. She could have passed over millennia ago, but Imeut had been bound to this plane and his duties as high priest until another was ready to come into his talents. And that would have left Selesma next in line to Lord Reymas’s throne.

Rene glanced at Imeut, a wave of guilt washing over her. If Imeut was right, Selesma had no desire to pass over. She would challenge Rene and Rene would be presented with the same choices she had fled from before. Over five thousand years he had suffered without her and she still had no answer. She had failed him.

The pitch in the room changed, dropped low and spread to a thin hum. She looked at the people around her, unnerved by their stillness. They were living statues, vibrating to a single note. She felt it in her toes, felt it spread up her legs, into her gut, to possess her chest. Her head dropped back, vision blurring as she stared at the smooth alabaster ceiling.

The whole room sighed, one collective release of anticipation, and then a golden glow shimmered in the air around them. A heartbeat later it was over, and the body on the altar was gone.

* * * *

Imeut found her in their rooms an hour later. He brushed the tears from her cheeks, kissed her as he pulled her into his arms.

“Is it always like that?”

“Always,” he answered. “You told us it would be so, do you remember?”

She sifted through the thousands upon thousands of memories her mind now held. She saw herself dressed in black, standing in front of a coffin and surrounded by thin gray men. A thick layer of soot covered the walls. Women cried. She dug deeper, past more births and deaths. She found Imeut, buried far down in the layers of her memory, begging her to come with him to this plane. The anguish on his face threatened to wipe away that moment of perfect peace she’d felt at the end of today’s ceremony.

She shook her head, snuggled deeper into his embrace.

He nipped her earlobe. “Do not make yourself too comfortable.”