Authors: Kristen Callihan
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy
He
b
e
c
ame
awa
r
e
of
hi
m
s
e
lf
a
g
a
in
,
a
nd
of
th
e
night
sky
now
a
bov
e
hi
m.
W
h
e
r
e
h
a
d
th
e
p
a
rlor
gon
e
?
L
e
l
a
nd
a
nd
th
e
oth
e
rs?
Be
lo
w
th
e
shi
mme
ring
sickl
e
m
oon
,
th
e
thr
ee
pyr
am
ids
of
G
i
za
w
e
r
e
bl
a
ck
sh
a
do
w
s
a
g
a
inst
an
indigo
sky
.
By
G
od
,
wa
s
h
e
in
E
gypt?
T
h
a
t
could
not
be
right
.
He
’d
been
i
n
M
e
x
i
c
o.
H
ad
n
’
t
h
e?
Y
et
t
h
e
s
a
n
d
be
n
ea
t
h
h
i
m
w
as
soft
e
r
th
a
n
th
e
h
a
rd
-
p
a
ck
s
a
nd
of
th
e
C
h
i
hu
a
hu
a
n
d
e
s
e
rt
,
a
nd
th
e
su
l
try
a
ir
h
e
ld
th
e
m
usky
t
a
ng
of
Cairo.
H
o
w
could
h
e
be
in
E
gypt
…
He
ll
,
h
e
wa
s
still
tr
a
pp
e
d
.
T
r
a
pp
e
d
in
his
m
ind?
O
r
h
a
d
h
e
gon
e
e
ls
e
wh
e
r
e
?
A
giddy
l
a
ugh
brok
e
fro
m
his
m
outh
.
Abs
e
nt
l
y
,
h
e
rubb
e
d
his
ch
e
st
a
nd
wa
s
surpris
e
d
to
find
it
b
a
r
e.
He
s
m
ooth
e
d
his
h
a
nd
b
a
ck
a
nd
forth
,
a
slo
w
rhyth
m.
Y
e
s
,
ba
r
e.
A
c
u
r
l
of
p
l
ea
s
u
r
e
un
f
u
r
l
ed
w
i
t
h
i
n
h
i
s
be
ll
y
.
R
a
t
h
er
nic
e
to
li
e
in
th
e
dry
d
e
s
e
rt
a
ir
w
ith
not
a
stitch
on
.
H
is
s
e
x
stirr
e
d
.
We
ll
,
a
ll
right
th
e
n
…
“
Mmm…
”
He
s
till
ed.
Tha
t
was
no
t
h
i
s
vo
i
ce.
Mos
t
de
fi
n
it
e
l
y
no
t
.
“
A
r
che
r
.
”
The
honey
and
c
r
eam
vo
i
ce
d
rift
ed
up
fr
om
t
he
a
r
ea
a
round
his
kn
ee
s
.
S
hock
r
e
nd
e
r
e
d
hi
m
inc
a
p
a
bl
e
of
m
ov
eme
nt
.
We
ll
,
not
a
ll
of
hi
m.
S
o
me
thing
d
e
finit
e
ly
m
ov
e
d
.
And
stiff
e
n
e
d
as
w
a
r
m,
s
m
ooth
h
a
nds
st
a
rt
e
d
to
glid
e
slowly
up
his
thighs
.
Fem
inin
e
h
a
nds
.
U
nc
e
rt
a
in
t
e
rror
a
nd
v
i
ru
l
e
nt
hop
e
ma
d
e
his
puls
e
l
ea
p
.
W
ith
a
j
e
rk
of
his
h
ea
d
,
h
e
look
e
d
do
w
n
th
e
l
e
ngth
of
his
bod
y
.
S
a
t
i
n
r
i
bbo
n
s
of
r
ed
-
go
l
d
h
a
i
r
s
p
r
ead
o
v
er
h
i
s
l
eg
s
,
a
nd
th
e
p
a
l
e,
p
e
rf
e
ct
h
ea
rt
of
a
w
o
ma
n’s
buttocks
j
utt
e
d
up
in
th
e
air.
She
t
u
r
ned
he
r
head,
and
t
he
cu
rt
a
i
n
of
he
r
ha
ir
s
li
pped
back
t
o
r
evea
l
he
r
f
ace.
H
i
s
b
r
ea
t
h
l
e
ft
i
n
a
gasp.
“
M
ir
anda?
”
he
c
r
oaked.
Ah,
God.
He
wen
t
fr
om
ha
r
d
t
o
t
h
r
obb
i
ng.
He
d
r
ank
i
n
t
he
s
i
gh
t
of
he
r
smoo
t
h
sk
i
n,
he
r
deep
r
ose
n
i
pp
l
es.
H
i
s
mou
t
h
wen
t
d
r
y.
He
needed
t
o
t
ouch
he
r
.
He
wen
t
up
on
h
i
s
e
l
bows
t
o
get
a
be
tt
e
r
v
i
ew
of
he
r
sway
i
ng
b
r
eas
t
s
and
p
l
ump
mou
t
h.