Books by Maggie Shayne (333 page)

She shrugged, averting her eyes. “I only wonder how a man who claims to have loved me so completely could be so easily fooled.”

“Because when one sees something he wants so badly to see, he tends to overlook minor details, Nidaba.”

Blinking her eyes, she examined his face. “What you wanted to see ... ?”

“Nidaba... when I looked at her, I saw only you. I saw your hands on me, felt your lips on me. I was helpless to resist.”

“Why?” she whispered.

He smiled just a little. “Why? Because I crave you still, Nidaba. You must know that, after what happened between us earlier tonight. Neither of us can deny it, now, can we? Between us, Nidaba, the fire still burns.”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “Even if the love does not. That’s what you mean to say, isn’t it?”

He drew his brows together. So she wanted to make sure he understood that this was no more than physical? The knowledge dug deep,. confirming what he had already known. Hell, how could he have thought her love for him would survive so many lifetimes? So much pain?

“Nidaba, it’s all right. Don’t feel badly over that.”

She returned her attention to her stew, cleaning the bowl and dropping the spoon inside. “What makes you think I feel badly? What happened between us earlier was only an explosion. An outburst of feelings held in check for far too long. And not just feelings of desire, Natum. But feelings of anger, hurt, betrayal... all of them.”

He almost got angry. Almost. Would have, if not for the hurt he saw in her eyes and the slightest trembling of her lower lip, that suggested maybe she was being less than honest here. By the Gods, could it be? Might she still harbor some kernel of love for him? Was he a fool to even imagine such a thing were possible?

He moved back to the table, turned her chair around, then leaned over it, and braced one hand on the table on either side of her. “Then . . . what about now?”

“What do you mean?” She looked nervous. Why, he wondered.

“We’ve released all those pent up feelings, Nidaba. If that’s all it was, between us, that must mean it’s over— that you no longer feel desire for me at all.”

She closed her eyes. “I burn for you, Natum. You know I do,” she whispered.

He nearly closed his eyes, such was his rapture. Oh, it wasn’t a confession of love. But it was a start. “Thank the Gods for that, woman, because I need to feel you tonight.” He leaned closer, kissed her deeply, hungrily. She responded without reserve, her lips parting eagerly to welcome his invasion. When he finally lifted his head away, he said, “Sex without love, Nidaba? Is that all this will be?”

“Sex has many more facets to it than those of the heart, Eannatum.”

She looked at him as if meeting his challenge, answering his dare. When, dammit, she was the one who had just denied having feelings for him. Other than desire, at least. But he wanted her. He was hard already, just from kissing her. And in his mind’s eye, he remembered the night she had danced for him.

So many things had hit them both tonight. They’d been under attack, and the only shelter they had from the horror, the anguish, the pain ... was each other. Maybe, for right now, that was enough.

“She may have looked like me,” Nidaba whispered, “But you must admit Puabi could never give you the same pleasure I can, Eannatum.”

“In four thousand years, no woman ever has.”

“I would hate to think you couldn’t tell the difference between her touch and mine.”

“Remind me of the difference then. For just a little while, Nidaba, take me away from this nightmare we’ve fallen into. And I’ll take you away from it too. Just for a little while ...”

She closed her hands in his hair, and pulled his face her for a blatantly carnal kiss. She nipped his bottom lip in her teeth before she drew away slightly to soothe the sting with her tongue. “Oh, I will,” she promised in a husky voice. Rising slowly from the chair, she pressed her hands to his chest, and licked his lips, pushing him backward until he was against the wall. Then she flattened her body against his, continuing to sample his mouth, and she slid her hands along his arms, from his shoulders, upward, until her fingers laced with his, and his arms stretched above his head.

One of her hands darted downward, and her dagger appeared in it. She stabbed it through his shirt sleeve, and into the wall beyond. He gave an experimental tug to test his delicious restraints, and the dagger held. Anticipation made his blood pulse hotly. His erection hardened painfully, and he bit back a groan.

Smiling wickedly she sank to her knees in front of him, and opened his jeans. She freed his erection, her very touch making him shudder. Looking up at him, staring straight into his eyes, she licked her lips, and moved them closer to him. When that succulent mouth finally touched him, it was only lightly, teasingly as she rubbed her wet lips back and forth over the swollen head. Nathan arched his hips toward her, an unspoken plea. But still she tormented him, flicking her tongue over him until he was panting with need.

Finally, she took him into her mouth. Nathan shuddered as her lips slid over him, moved up and down the length of him, and her tongue swirled and lapped at him. She used her teeth on him, making him gasp and moan. He arched his hips toward her as she suckled and teased. He wanted to tangle his hands into her hair and hold her captive, so he could thrust into her mouth, but he didn’t do that. He could have torn his arms free and done just that. But he didn’t. He let her play just to see how long he could bear the succulent torture. She tormented him and pleasured him with her mouth and her tongue for a long while, never letting him find release, working him into a frenzy, only to deny him the ultimate goal, over and over, until his mind spun out of control. He was quivering, sweating, moaning her name.

And finally, when he could bear no more of it, he gave a deep growl and tore his arms free, ripping the fabric of the shirt in the process. He grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her to her feet, and ravaged her mouth, thrusting his tongue into her almost viciously. He tasted her and tangled with her tongue, licking the inside of her mouth. Savagely, he peeled her dress up her body and tossed it aside. Then, lowering her to the kitchen floor, he spread her thighs wide, and knelt between them.

She moved in supplication, arching her hips off the floor, but he didn’t take her. Not yet. Instead he gathered her wrists in one hand, pinning them to the floor above her head. “My turn,” he whispered, determined to give as good as he got.

Using his free hand, he touched her. He slid his fingertips slowly over her chin, her neck, down her sternum. He dragged them lightly over her breasts, pausing to press her nipples just a little. A tiny pinch, only enough so she whimpered for more. Then he moved on. His finger made spirals over her belly, slid downward, over her abdomen, and then teased her center so softly she rocked her hips in search of a firmer touch. He flicked lightly, over and over until he saw the sweat break out on her forehead.

Smiling, he touched her more firmly, and then still more, sliding his fingers into her slick passage, and moving them slowly while she squirmed.

“Damn you, Natum,” she whispered. “Take me now.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Not just yet.” He hooked his arms under her legs, lifting them, anchoring them over his shoulders. And then he bent his head, and licked a hot path over her juicy center. Using his fingers to spread her open wide, he lapped at her there. He loved her taste. He thrust his tongue inside, drew it out again, stabbed at her, sucked at her until she was writhing and screaming in ecstasy. And then he held her down, and licked some more.

“Please, Natum, please ...”

He rose and looked down at her. Her body was flushed, her nipples hard, her face, rapturous. God he loved seeing her like this.

He caught her hands, and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, so she was atop him. She sat up slowly, her eyes glistening, hooded, fiery. Bracing her hands on his chest, she positioned her legs outside his, and lowered her body. He felt her shudder as he slid inside her like a dagger into its sheath, and Nidaba closed her eyes and moved. She rode him, slowly at first, then faster and harder, her head tipping back, her eyes falling closed. He caught her breasts in his hands, and tormented her nipples, holding them captive in a sweet, firm pinch so that when she moved, they pulled against his fingers. She rocked even more fiercely, took him even more deeply, until his mind and body exploded in wave upon wave of unimaginable pleasure. She ground her hips against him, her body squeezing him, milking dry as she climaxed with him, murmuring his name and raking her fingernails across his chest.

Then she went limp, slumping down atop him in a boneless sprawl. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist, she nuzzled his neck with her lips. “Sated yet, Priestess?” he teased her gently.

He felt her lips smile against his skin. “I’ve not been with a king in over four thousand years.”

“I’ve not been with a goddess in just that long.”

“Then we’ve much time to make up for.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He sat up, gathered her into his arms, then snatched up her dress and her dagger. He carried her up the stairs to the bedroom, wryly amazed that he was ready for her again so soon. But it had always been this way with her. The more he had Nidaba, the more he needed her, craved her. And he knew it wasn’t just sex with her, no matter what she might think or want to believe or be willing to admit. For him, it was more. Far more.

He laid her on the bed and made love to her again— Gently, this time. Leisurely. Tenderly. He kissed her, caressed her, spoke to her in soft whispers that emerged in the old tongue, as if they’d gone back in time. He tried to memorize every part of her, the way she felt against his hands, the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way she sounded and moved and breathed in his arms. And for that short span of time, he found heaven.

Afterward, they lay sated and exhausted. Natum had opened the window to let the sea breeze in. It smelled like the ocean, like autumn, and like a looming rainstorm. Every once in a while distant thunder rumbled ominously.

Beyond the window, the ocean danced in the fall wind’s touch. The scents of the sea and the fall leaves and the impending storm lingering on the air were intoxicating. And the dog, which had wandered into the room to lie down on the floor beside the window, seemed to fit the scene perfectly. “You really do love this life you’ve built here, don’t you, Eannatum?”

He glanced at Nidaba’s face and smiled. “It’s been ... a haven.”

“It is a beautiful home.”

“It’s not just the house. Or the gallery in Boston. Or George and Sheila.” He paused there, swallowing hard at the mention of Sheila’s name. “It’s ... it’s more than that.”

“I know,” she said softly. “It’s a mortal’s life you’re living, Natum. The Dark Ones ... they don’t even seem to know you exist.”

“Except for one,” he said. “And who knows how many others Puabi has told about me by now? No, Nidaba, my peaceful little life has ended.” He sat up in the bed, began slowly to put his clothes back on.

Nidaba shook her head, sitting up as well, and the breeze caught her hair, mussing it more than Natum had done. “I know the way that woman thinks,” she told him. “She hasn’t told any others. She wouldn’t. She always wanted you all to herself—even now that she apparently wants you dead.”

He lifted a brow. He’d pulled on his jeans, but nothing else, and he propped his shoulder against the window as he watched her with interest.

“Chances are, once we rid ourselves of her forever— you’ll be able to continue on with your life just the way you have been,” she said, sitting up in the bed, allowing the sheet to fall to her waist.

Even now, he wanted her. “And what about you?” he asked, his gaze taking full advantage of her nakedness.

She shook her head, got to her feet, wrapping the sheet around her sarong-style, and moved until she was beside him at the window. Turning her face into the wind, she gazed out at the whitecaps dancing on the sea. “My notoriety now is almost as widespread as it was in Lagash,” she said.

“A legend yet again?”

“Among the dark ones, yes. Although it’s not the kind of fame one would wish for.”

“They hunt you.” He caressed her jaw with a fingertip. “What has it been like for you, Nidaba?”

“Not so bad.”

“No. Tell me the truth now. There’s no more reason for lies between us. Not after all this.” He reached for her nightgown, hanging over the chair’s back, and she stood still while he pulled her sheet away, and gently dressed her in it. Then he put his own shirt back on. “Let’s walk outside. You can talk to me.”

Nidaba let him pull her with him into the hall, down the stairs, right at the bottom, rather than left into the living room. He took her through the library and out through the French doors onto the veranda.

She noticed the walkway, lined on both sides with late blooming flowers, that led around the house. “What’s back there?”

He followed her gaze. “More flower beds, garden plots, and the stairs up to the roof.” The dog got up and trotted happily at their side. “But you’re changing the subject. I asked what it’s been like for you.”

“What is it you want to know?” She pretended great interest in the cobblestone lined flower beds that surrounded his great old house above the sea.

“You ... said once that you had been held captive. And that woman, your—our—daughter-in-law ... she seemed concerned about your mental state.”

She shrugged as if none of it mattered. “What’s on the roof?” she asked.

“Pigeons. Sheila keeps—kept—them up there. Listen, you can probably hear them.”

Nidaba remembered George mentioning that there were pigeons on the roof, and she could indeed hear their gentle cooing sounds if she listened closely. “It’s not natural to keep them caged. That doesn’t seem like something Sheila would do.”

“You’re right about that. They were never caged, not really,” he explained. “Sheila always left the pens open by day. They just always come back at night.”

Frowning, Nidaba tilted her head to one side. “I guess they’re like you. They don’t mind living in captivity. Even ... like it.”