Shades of the Wind (20 page)

“Please,”
he whispered to the voice.

“Trust, my son. Have trust.”

With her head thrown back, her eyes closed as she rode Khenty, Nyria was not

aware of the room becoming darker. She was unaware of the sun setting. She did not

see the faint wisp of smoke that seeped through the crack where the door met the frame

but Khenty saw it and stared—his eyes widening—as the smoke wafted to the floor

then began to take form.

The entity taking shape was tall and muscular, its body darker than the darkest

night. A gleam of gold halfway down its length shimmered into a shendyt kilt that

hugged slim hips and long, muscular legs. Golden armbands appeared next then a

broad collar that sparkled like fire. But it was the headdress that caught and held

Khenty’s attention and he knew whom it was that had come to his aid.

Nyria stopped moving. Slowly she lowered her head, her gaze meeting her master’s

for a moment before his slipped past her. She drew in a breath and began to turn her

head. What she saw behind her tore an unearthly scream from her lips.

Bright crimson blood splattered Khenty’s naked chest when the entity struck. He

flinched as a splash of it hit his face. Still unable to move, he could do nothing but

watch as death was dealt in the harshest of manners and the growling, tearing,

crunching sounds of the entity taking its revenge permeated the room. When there was

nothing left of the woman who had betrayed the master of Anubeion, the entity rose up

to its full seven feet of height, a long-handled scepter appearing in its dark hand.

“You have cared for our people well, my son,” the dog-headed god said in a deep

voice. “We are most pleased with you.”

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The dog-headed scepter was lifted, angled over Khenty’s prone body and then

moved from side to side before the forked base of it was returned to the floor with a low

thump.

“Go, my son,” Anubis said. “Retrieve your mate.”

Feeling came instantly back into Khenty’s body and instinctively he shot up in the

bed, pressing his back against the headboard, his knees drawn up to cover his

nakedness. “Milord, I—” he began but the entity held up a hand—a hand in which a

golden ankh rattle was clutched.

“We take care of Our children,” the god said, and then disappeared in a sparkle of

golden flecks of light.

Khenty sat there—his chest heaving, sweat pouring from his body—staring at the

place where the god Anubis had stood. He found he was shivering with an

unaccustomed fear that made his hand shake as he lifted it to rake it through his tousled

hair. Ashamed his teeth were chattering, he propelled himself from the bed. Clammy

with the feel of Nyria’s blood covering his chest, he hurried to the bathing pool and

dove in, swimming beneath the water until he no longer felt the stickiness clinging to

him. Surfacing with a loud explosion of air from his tortured lungs, he stood in the

waist-deep water trembling, his eyes stricken.

“Go to your mate,”
he heard whispered on the wind.

Fearing more for Catherine than what he had just witnessed, he waded through the

water and climbed up to the marble coping, shaking his head to fling his wet hair back.

Not even bothering to dress, he ran to the door, unlocked it and rushed through,

shifting as he did into his canine form, his nose twitching as he searched for his lady’s

scent.

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Shades of the Wind

Chapter Ten

Catherine heard the howling and knew from whose throat it came. She rushed to

the window and shoved the curtain aside. It was night now and the dark mountain

cliffs showed no hint of the animal whose plaintive cry reverberated through her very

soul. Turning away from the window, she went to the door and pulled it open to find

Rhada standing there, his fist raised to knock.

“You heard him?” he asked with a slight smile.

“I knew he’d come,” she said.

“He’ll not enter my courtyard without an invitation from me,” the Oceanian said.

“I’ll take you out to meet him.”

She could sense something troubling him and she glanced at his handsome face as

they started down the stairs. “What is distressing you, Rhada?” she asked.

“There is a situation in the village and I have been unable to stop or contain it.” He

cast her a quick look. “Perhaps Fate has provided me with a solution.”

A servant hurried to the door to open it for his master, bowing as Rhada and

Catherine walked past him. “Shall I send for the Stravteuma, Your Grace?” the servant

asked, his eyes wide in fear.

“No, the cries are coming from another like me, not the vrykolakas,” Rhada replied.

The servant crossed himself. “The Anubi?”

“Aye,” Rhada said. “With any luck at all, I will be able to persuade him to help us.”

Catherine felt the chill in the air and the hint of rain as they walked out into the

courtyard. Along the walls were torches that snapped and hissed in the quickening

breeze. “What help do you require of him?” she asked.

“The vrykolakas is vicious and so far has managed to elude my Stravteuma
,
but

Ben-Alkazar is a different breed of creature than I. His power might be able to find the

Undead One.”

“Vrykolakas?”
she asked.

“A bloodthirsty creature who drains its victims,” Rhada said. “An evil thing

beyond knowing, milady.”

Once more the howling came but this time much closer and Catherine looked to the

heavily barred gatehouse where soldiers were staring out into the night. “You can not

shape-shift as Khenty does?” she questioned, and marveled that she could discuss such

a thing in a calm way.

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“Oh I can shift,” Rhada said, “but into an Imperial eagle. I am a diurnal creature, a

creature of the day. Ben-Alkazar is nocturnal and the vrykolakas hunts its victims at

night. It hides during the day and I do not have the ability to sniff it out as he can
.”

They were almost to the gatehouse and again the howling rent the air with a

lamentation that made Catherine’s heart ache.

“Khenty, I am coming,” she called out, and the howling ceased abruptly.

“He has rushed up to the gate, Your Grace!” one of the soldiers on the wall cried

out.

“Open the gate then,” Rhada said as a fevered scratching sounded on the thick

wood.

The two guards posted to either side of the gate exchanged looks then hastened to

do their master’s bidding. A loud shrieking protest came as the massive portal was

pulled open.

Catherine breathed a sigh of relief to see Khenty, even if he was in dog form. Her

heart did a funny little squeeze in her chest but she never broke her stride as she went

to him and knelt down beside him, putting her arms around his furry neck and burying

her face in the ruff there. She could feel him quivering and knew he was reacting to

Rhada’s presence. She stroked his back. “He is our friend, milord.”

“You are welcome in my domain, Prince Khenty Ben-Alkazar,” Rhada said with a

bow. “I bid you enter as my guest and as a brethren.”

Catherine stood up. “He is in need of your help, milord.”

The dog looked up at her, his eyes glowing and cocked his head to one side.

“He protected me from Bahru and now we must do what we can to return the

favor,” she explained.

With a sniff, the dog started forward, waiting until Catherine was at his side. He

stopped just before crossing over into the courtyard of Ocaleae and sniffed again.

Apparently satisfied there was no treachery afoot, he continued on toward Rhada.

“You will need clothing,” Rhada said, and turned to show his guests back into the

mansion. “I believe we are of the same size and height.”

Catherine smiled at the slight huff that came from her lover. “Behave,” she

whispered.

Leading them into his home and up the stairs, Rhada was quiet, his disquieting

thoughts communicating with Khenty in a way Catherine could not discern. By the time

he led them to their room he had explained the situation to the prince of Anubeion and

had gained a silent pledge of help in return.

“Thank you, Prince Khenty,” Rhada said, bowing once more. “I will be forever in

your debt.” He left them with a promise to send clothing for Khenty.

Once the door was closed, Khenty changed in a flash, reaching out to grab his lady

and drag her to him in a feverish clench that nearly drove the air from her lungs.

“I was sick with worry, wench!” he told her, his throat clogging with emotion.

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Shades of the Wind

Her arms slid around him. “He treated me like one of his own,” she told her

husband. “He—”

“Wench, you are mine!” he snarled, his lips peeled back from his teeth.

“Of course, but—”

Refusing to release her, he backed her against the wall and his mouth went to hers

in a heady kiss that hit them both with wild desire. His hands dragged at her clothing,

yanking up her skirt, ripping the underwear from her in his need to have her flesh

against his, his body within hers. He rammed his naked thigh between her legs—lifting

her up from the floor with his hands cupped beneath her rump. His mouth moved to

her breast and he drew her nipple deep into that warm recess, his teeth clamping down

gently to make her whimper with ecstasy as he used his tongue to stab heatedly at the

hardening bud.

“Khenty!” she cried out. “Please!”

Unable to endure the overpowering feel of his lips on her breast, she pulled his

head up and brought his mouth back to hers. She put every ounce of her love and need

and desire for him into that kiss and he responded with a low growl deep in his throat.

Holding her pressed to the wall, he arched his hips against her, his cock as hard as

stone along the juncture of her thighs. Her legs came up and she wound them ‘round

his waist, her ankles locked and her heel digging into his flanks as she held him fiercely

to her. As she threaded her fingers through his hair to anchor his mouth to hers, he

thrust fiercely into her, muffling her grunt with the stab of his tongue.

Sliding her up the wall with every possessive plunge into her moist heat, he

pistoned his hips upward, allowing her to ride his cock down again with such an

intensity it made their hearts thunder and blood race. She was slick along his rock-hard

shaft, her juices mingling with his so he glided into her as quickly as his strength would

allow him. His heavy sac slapped against her anus to send shudders of lust coursing

through his body. The scent of their combined moistness drove him wild and he drove

harder into her, faster, striving for the release that hovered right on the edge of

madness.

Catherine was moaning low in her throat, her tongue dueling with his, her lips

nibbling at his, her body molded to his. Her arms were wrapped around his head—

wrists crossed, fingers entangled in his thick hair. When he shifted her higher and

pushed as deeply into her as his cock would go, she felt the itch spread like wildfire

through her lower belly, her clit, to wriggle all the way through her sheath. It was a

pleasurable pain in which she reveled. Her moans became a shrill scream absorbed by

his questing mouth as her climax wound tight like a clock spring then let go with a

spiral that brought darkness to her vision.

Khenty was completely lost in the sensation that engulfed his staff. Her body was

hot around his, sliding along him, the friction a pure delight. The quick pulses that

milked him brought forth his seed in a wild spurt that made his entire body go rigid

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with the release. He tore his mouth from hers, bared his fangs and sank them into her

neck at the pinnacle of his discharge.

Yelping as her lover penetrated her flesh, Catherine drove her fingernails into his

scalp. It was not a painful thing he had done to her but such an erotic, overpoweringly

sensuous act that brought wave after wave of violent climax rippling through her cunt.

As he drank in his lady’s blood, Khenty knew a moment of such fierce

possessiveness he thought he well might die from it. Had anyone—god or man—tried

to tear her from him at that moment he would have become a raving lunatic. He

growled low in his throat as he withdrew his fangs.

“My love,” Catherine whispered, feeling the strangest sensation coursing through

her.

“You must…” He could not make his vocal chords work. He shifted her so she rode

his thigh once more and pulled his hand from her rear. Reaching up between them, he

dragged his fingernail across his jugular, opening the vein and slid his hand around her

neck to draw her lips to the coursing blood. “Drink, Catherine. Drink. I will never fear

losing you again!”

She did not question him, although the thought of drinking his blood sickened her.

She put her lips to the wound and did as he ordered. The taste was salty and spicy with

a tang of something she found extraordinarily enticing. As the warm liquid coursed

down her throat, it set her womb to clenching and she came again, the taste of him in

her mouth exploding on her tongue like an oral orgasm.

Khenty held her mouth to his neck and closed his eyes, taking as much pleasure