Harlequin Nocturne May 2016 Box Set (3 page)

He was surprised to see distress in her expression. “What do
you
know of it?”

“Do you deny it?” he demanded.

She wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered. “You are wrong.”

“A pity you never had a chance to own another intelligent being,” Daniel said. “Then you could have had absolute power.”

“I do not want it!” She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white against her golden skin. “You do not know me. You see only what you wish to see.”

“Then you
do
deny it, in spite of all the bows and smiles and deference everyone shows you, as if you were the goddess your name implies.”

“I made no attempt to influence you,” she insisted, her golden skin turning pale.

“Maybe not consciously,” he said, relenting a little, “but instinctively. Because you are what you are.”

“That is truly what you think of me?”

“We're strangers,” he said. “What
should
I think?”

To his astonishment, she worked at the fastenings of her robes, and they fell like water to her feet. Beneath them she was naked. And breathtaking. Her body was sweetly curved, full-breasted and hipped, her legs shapely and strong, her waist supple.

“You cannot abide losing control, Daniel,” she said. “That is your rebellion against your old life. Now I give you a choice. You may prove to yourself that I cannot influence you...because I want you, and I will do nothing to make you want
me
.”

CHAPTER 3

L
ust shone in Daniel's pale blue eyes, but he made no move toward Isis.

He was disciplined, she thought. Disciplined and proud, yet willing to set aside his pride to play the serf if he thought it was to his benefit.

But he had also accused her of trying to dominate others with her influence. Surely that could not be true; she had sworn to give up such power long ago.

At the moment, Daniel had all the power.
Dangerous
was the word that kept coming to mind, even though he was still a prisoner. His body fascinated her; every part of him was whipcord muscle and lean grace, like one of the wildcats that roamed the wilderness. His skin had been bronzed by exposure to the sun, and his eyes were bright and keen in his tanned, handsome face.

She had never met a human who had such an effect on her, not in all her long years of life, though she had known thousands upon thousands of men; men who had worshipped her as a goddess, laying gifts at her feet, willing to serve her in any way she desired.

This
man would never serve her. There was a hardness in him, scars she could feel but not see, experiences she could only imagine in spite of her time spent with former serfs. She had always been able to sense what lay in human hearts, had regarded them with sympathy and pity. But Daniel...

He would reject her pity, her sympathy, and any offer to guide him as she did the thousands she had sworn to protect. And still she reacted to his proximity as if she were a starving Opir in the presence of fresh, pumping blood.

How could it be that she should desire a man who was not only a stranger to the city, but an utter enigma to her? How could her body betray her so cruelly? What had she meant to prove by stripping herself and standing before him, a living offering to one who could so easily disdain her?

“Enough of these games,” Daniel said in a husky voice, his gaze never leaving hers. The back of her neck prickled as he drew closer. His steps were nearly as silent as an Opir's, his stride loose and easy.

But he was no more relaxed than she was. The physical evidence of his desire had not abated, and his nearness stiffened her nipples and brought her to aching readiness.

“What do you want, Isis?” he murmured. “What are you hoping to gain from this? Are you hungry for blood that doesn't come from a storage unit? Or do you think you'll learn something about me you can't get any other way?”

Anger blurred her vision. He mocked her, but she had made herself a target. She could ignore Anu or Ereshkigal when they derided her for her lack of objectivity in her devotion to mankind, but this was different. This was very personal. She had thrown aside all her pride to prove to this one man, this human...

She reached out and took his hand, laying it on her breast. He sucked in a sharp breath, and his gaze fell to his hand on her skin.

“I want nothing,” she whispered, “except to prove that I—”

He caught her lips with his, pressing his palm against her breast. There was no hesitation in him now. His tongue plunged inside her mouth, and she felt for the table behind her, her knees going weak. He cradled her head in the crook of his arm while he stroked her nipple with his other hand, kissing her mouth and her throat and her shoulder.

Then she noticed the thick scar tissue on his neck, the residue of hundreds of bites never properly healed. She flinched, sickened by the implications of those scars. Not only had he been bitten hundreds of times, but the Opiri who had used him hadn't bothered to mend the wounds they left in his flesh. It would have been a simple matter of altering the chemicals in their saliva to close the wounds and set them to healing.

But Daniel didn't seem to notice her concern. He swept her up in his arms, carrying her easily to the narrow bed. He laid her down and immediately knelt over her, his eyes clouded with hunger. A moment later his mouth was on her nipple, licking and then suckling it while he eased his body over hers. She parted her thighs and arched up against him, moaning deep in her throat.

He kissed her again and slid his hand down her belly to the moistness between her legs. He knew exactly what to do, and in seconds she was gasping, at the mercy of her body's reaction as if she had never known such sensations before. Daniel knew she had surrendered; he pinned her arms above her head, almost tenderly, and kissed his way down her body from breast to hip, pausing only for a moment before his mouth found the center of her pain and pleasure.

His tongue was an expert tool, licking and exploring, making her tremble violently in anticipation. When he dipped it inside her, all she could think of was taking the rest of him, drawing him in, feeling him moving and thrusting and carrying her to the heights.

As if he'd read her thoughts, he slid his body up over hers and braced himself on his arms. He looked into her eyes and brushed a strand of her hair away from her lips.

“How long has it been?” he asked gently.

Isis didn't want to talk. But she felt him waiting for her answer, withholding himself until she gave it up as she gave up her body.

“Not...since I came to Tanis,” she whispered. “I must...remain apart...”

“Why?”

“It is my place...to guide them, show them...the way to live in peace and harmony.”

“Humans?”

“They...they need—”

Suddenly his warmth vanished, the weight of his body gone as he rolled away. Instinctively she closed her legs and covered her chest as if she herself were a serf on the block, ready for claiming.

“I am honored that you chose to suspend your noble chastity with me,” he said from across the room, “but I wouldn't want to interfere with your work.”

She sat up, meeting his steady gaze with shattered dignity, stung by emotions that had seemed so distant for so many centuries: wounded pride, regret, confusion.

But she could not let him see. He must not know how deeply she felt his rejection. The rejection of a
human
, who should have been grateful—

No
, she thought. That was the old way, the wrong way. This small error in judgment changed nothing: not her commitment to aiding the humans of Tanis, nor her attitude toward Daniel. It would be as if this had never happened.

She would learn who and what Daniel was, why
he
should have such power to make her forget herself so completely. She would learn
his
weakness.

Rising from the bed, she gathered up her robes and pulled them on, letting them hang loose.

“I thank you for reminding me of my purpose,” she said. “I will not make such a mistake again.”

To her surprise, Daniel looked away. He turned and walked into the bathroom, and for the first time Isis saw the other scars he carried on his body: the raised pink and brown welts from numerous savage beatings crisscrossing his back, and lower, layer upon layer.

Ill and dizzy, Isis reached for the bed table. Memories. He carried them with him every day, and he could never escape their mark.

Someone tapped on the door behind her. She fastened her robes and opened the door.

“Lady,” the human attendant said, color rising in his cheeks. “I have the visitor's clothes. Should I come back at another—”

“No.” She smiled at him, and his body relaxed. “I am just leaving.” She took the clothes from him and laid them across the bed. Daniel had not emerged from the bathroom when she left.

Still bewildered by the intensity of her feelings—the lust, the fascination, the pity—she gave brief instructions to the guards and sought her own quarters. Unlike most of her peers among the Nine, she preferred to live near the humans with whom she spent so much of her time, in a fifth-floor apartment that held little of the extravagance some high-ranking Opiri enjoyed.

Supposedly, such ranks did not exist in Tanis, and most Opir citizens preferred to live in the towers under the half dome. It was only sensible, since they could not tolerate sunlight.

Once in her apartment, Isis bathed and dressed in fresh robes. Daniel's earthy scent had become entangled with the fabric, and she instructed her maid to have them washed as soon as possible.

She sipped the blood from her small personal store and found it almost unpalatable. Of course there was no comparison to taking fresh blood from its source, but that was considered a transaction between two private individuals and carefully regulated.

Had Daniel known that, when he mocked her about being hungry for his blood? Did he think she would take it without his express consent?

Her mouth went dry as she thought about what he had done and how tempted she would have been if he had completed the act. If she had so much as touched his neck with her lips...

But that had not happened, she reminded herself. Nor was there any chance of it happening in the future. She would simply find someone else to finish questioning him.

Gathering her composure about her like a heavy day coat, she prepared herself for the meeting of the Nine. She was in no mood to deal with Ereshkigal's sullen manner or Anu's arrogance, but it couldn't be helped. The Elders of Tanis had set policy for the city, and though they did not enact or enforce laws, their opinions had weight with the elected Council of ordinary Opiri and humans. She must be there because she was one of the Nine most personally sympathetic to humans and most protective of their dignity.

She laughed quietly. Had she respected Daniel's dignity? Was she so unaware of her own flaws that a human must point them out? Was she so careless with her power, so accustomed to the influence that she didn't even realize she was still using it?

“It's part of what you are,” Daniel had said. But giving guidance was not the same as ruling like a true goddess. The one was necessary; the other was lost in her ancient past.

Still struggling with her conflicting emotions, she called for a shuttle that would carry her through the human sector to the rear of the city and the towers of the Opiri. As always, she felt as if she were entering a different world; as always, it troubled her deeply. There should be no dividing line between Tanis's human citizens and its Opiri, and yet the half dome's shadow was that line. There were times when both races, and the half-bloods, were expected to mingle—as in the forthcoming Games and Festival—but there was always a guardedness, especially on the part of the humans.

Isis had never ceased to hope that would change.

The driver left her at the bottom of the spiraled ramp that reached from ground level to the base of the main tower and the elevated causeway that circled the city. The old Citadel had originally been built with three elevators for each of its six towers, with a single elevator serving a powerful Bloodmaster's Household and the other two assigned to several smaller Households of influential Bloodlords and Bloodladies. Since the reclaiming of the Citadel, the former serfs' quarters had been remodeled, and former Households had been split up to accommodate most of the city's Opiri, even the formerly houseless Freebloods.

But
this
entire tower belonged to the Nine, and nobody questioned their right to it.

Isis took the first elevator past several floors assigned to three of the Nine, stopping at the highest floor. There a large chamber, which encompassed the entire top floor of the tower, served as a meeting room more lavishly furnished and decorated than her own simple quarters. The Nine had confiscated works of fine and decorative arts from the towers' previous inhabitants, and now kept them safe for the people of Tanis.

Isis paused just outside the elevator door to take in the scents and sights of the treasure room, basking in its beauty. On a small pedestal stood a very old sculpture, chipped and cracked, of a serene woman kneeling on one knee, her arms draped with plumage, a sun-disk set between a pair of horns gracefully balanced atop her head.

It was strange to look at it now, when Isis could still recall a time when it had been new. When she had
been
that figure, wearing a winged robe and carrying that same horned crown upon her head.

“Reminiscing?” Bes said, coming to join her. He was an oddity in a world of Opiri, no matter how ancient: short, round and cheerful, with a face that seemed frozen in a constant smile; large ears; and an oiled, curled beard.

Isis turned with a smile. “It is better to think of the future, don't you agree?”

“Yes. But, ah, those were the days.”

“You find plenty of amusement with your human friends...at least in their taverns.”

Bes laughed. “They do know how to enjoy themselves. Not like—” He grimaced. “‘Uneasy is the head that wears the crown.'”

“You do Anu a disservice,” Isis said. “He is no king.”

“Tell
him
that.”

“We are ready to begin,” someone called from behind them. It was Hera in her deep blue chiton, a glittering peacock pendant hanging from her slender throat.

Bes rolled his eyes. “Let's get this over with,” he said.

They walked around the corner into the meeting area. The space was dominated by a large, beautifully designed round table, and the walls were decorated with murals and works of fine art on every side.

As was customary, Anu sat at the head of the table, Ereshkigal on one side and Hephaestus on the other. Hephaestus stood out from the others with his slightly misshapen body and his limp, but so did Athena and Hermes—Athena with her bright gray eyes, and Hermes with his red-gold hair. Anu, Bes, Ereshkigal, Ishtar, Hera, and Isis herself were dark haired and golden skinned.

They
all
stood out among the pale-skinned, white-haired Opiri, but their differences in appearance only reinforced their position in Tanis.

“Be seated,” Anu said.

The others gathered around and took their respective chairs, Isis opposite Anu. Fond of ritual as he was, Anu brought the meeting to order with words in a language nearly forgotten even by the Elders of Tanis, and called upon each of them in turn.