The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (31 page)

He held her hands in his, lightly. She dredged up courage. "Being tied up, as I was in Fareeq’s tent, and faced with the whip. Being helpless," she whispered.

"Do you trust me?"

When she nodded, he touched her cheek again. "Then come to me, my love," he said, his soft voice husky and compelling. She felt trapped by its hypnotic tone. His heavy sensuality intoxicated her. This was Khepri—not an English duke, but her Egyptian warrior skilled in the Eastern way of men, coaxing women into their beds, seducing them with their masculinity and passion.

Badra trembled, afraid and yet longing.

"Do not fear me, little one," he said soothingly. "I will not hurt you." His voice deepened to a protective growl. "I will not allow anything to hurt you ever again."

She swallowed hard. Her pulse jumped. Every beat of her heart seemed to ring in her ears. He tugged her from the seat. Kenneth began undressing her, his fingertips grazing her skin, a soft caress. When she stood before him, fully nude, he swept her body with his gaze.

Admiration and desire shone from his eyes. Kenneth bent down, lifted her hair and nuzzled her earlobe, giving it a tiny lick. A shudder of pure pleasure raced through her.

"Trust me," he told her softly. "Do you? To do this, I must have your full and complete trust."

He brushed a finger across her cheek. "Do you give me your full and complete trust, Badra? Do you know I would not, will not, hurt you?"

Her throat tightened with emotion. She could only nod.

To her horror, he fetched the cartouche and draped it over her neck. Breath squeezed out of her. It was the cursed necklace. She was his slave now. Fully and completely. Powerless.

Clasping her tiny hand in his large one, he led her to the tall marbled columns. Two large steel hooks protruded from the stones, gleaming and dangerous. A shiver stroked her spine.

He held her very life in his hands. Never before had she felt more powerless, not even when Fareeq had beaten her, for she had clung to her soul, her
ba
, even as the whip scored her tender flesh.

Then, hatred had kept her alive. But Kenneth, her former protector, had the power to flay her with deeper wounds than Fareeq ever had inflicted.

He took her palms and pressed a kiss against each. He produced a silk cord and wound it about each wrist. Old terrors filled her as he tied the cord to the ominous steel hooks, stretching her arms apart. Enough tension existed to allow her arms slack, yet the knots were mercilessly tight.

She could not escape.

He bound her ankles the same way. Now she was stretched out, a sacrifice to his pleasure, bound naked between the two columns. It was nearly the same position Fareeq employed when he had beaten her. She could not help the violent shudders racking her body. Badra tried to summon courage.

Kenneth stood before her, tall, muscled and powerful. A leather whip hung on the far wall. With predatory grace, he strode over to it and released it from its place.

A sharp crack filled the air as he flicked the whip with expert skill.

Her body sagged against the ropes.
Please.
Her mouth formed the word, but no sound escaped. Kenneth approached, the whip in his hands, his expression tight and merciless.

Gooseflesh broke out on her naked flesh. Her body clenched, tensing in anticipation of pain. Time crawled by, minute by agonizing minute. She closed her eyes. She could not bear to watch the man who professed to love her, the warrior who’d once vowed to sacrifice his life for her, lift a whip to her skin.

"Trust me, Badra."

Kenneth had been a man of honor. Could she trust him to not hurt her, despite how badly she had hurt him?

Badra bit down on her wobbling lower lip and hung on to a precarious thread of hope, of love shutting out the fear. Her eyes flew open and resolve filled her.

"I trust you."

A small thud sounded on the floor. Kenneth stood before her, the whip lying at his feet like a coiled, dead snake. His gentle kiss brushed her lips, softer than silk, like honey pouring over aching wounds.

Standing back, he studied her, and his face went soft with tenderness. His strong hands, capable of violence against his enemies, cupped her face as if he held the fragile faience dug from beneath the pyramid.

"My love," he said thickly. "Allow me to show you the passion of a Khamsin warrior."

He vanished behind her. His mouth gently settled upon her scarred back, his lips feathering a trail of scorching pleasure down her sensitive skin. Kiss after kiss was chased by tiny, light flicks of his velvet tongue.

He was kissing her scars, she realized with wonder, pressing his lips to her past as if each kiss could ease all the pain she had suffered. It was a tender balm upon her soul. One after one, each light kiss, each touch of his warm mouth filled her body. Badra felt a tear trickle from her eyes. She squeezed them shut and began to count, and fresh awe spilled through her.

The secret of one hundred kisses.

This was the Khamsin warrior tradition she had heard women whisper of in their dark tents, kisses designed to arouse a woman’s passion. The kisses ended at a woman’s pleasure center and brought her to the height of ecstasy.

Kenneth’s kisses bathed her in a warm sea of acceptance, of forgetfulness of the past, of assurances of his love. One hundred kisses to soothe away the burning flick of the whip. For each cruel stroke of the lash Fareeq had delivered, Kenneth healed it with his loving mouth and tenderness.

Kenneth reappeared before her, his intent gaze holding hers a moment; then he began kissing her again. His mouth sought her breast, kissing the nipple, and she writhed in her bonds. Then he dropped to his knees. His arms wrapped about her waist as he pressed his mouth against her hot skin, his lips touching her belly, delving lightly into her navel with light, expert flicks. She felt a hot gush between her thighs.

And then, with powerful hands that could kill, yet were so gentle, he parted the softness between her thighs and pressed his mouth to her feminine core.

Pleasure burst inside her with each scorching kiss, then he took her flesh into his mouth and sucked gently, flicking out his tongue. Badra strained against the ropes, writhing as heat raked through her. Heat from his mouth, building a pleasure she had never known before. The tension mounted and she arched for something not quite there, just out of reach.

He stopped.

Quivering, she gasped for breath, looking at him. Aching frustration filled her as she sagged against the ropes, her body throbbing with want.

He stood and swiftly untied her, then carried her to the bed. She felt the soft mattress beneath her, his firm, warm mouth above.

When he removed his trousers, she caught sight of his thick arousal. Badra tensed and shrank back. He paused, regret in his gaze, and belted a thick black velvet robe about his body. Kenneth went to the door, paused, his hand on the knob. "I’m going to the baths. Why don’t you remain here and rest?"

His tone was mild, assuring. Frustration and bemusement surged through her. Badra watched him leave. Didn’t he want her? Was he just being kind?

She sat up, removing the pectoral of Amenemhat II with a vicious tug. The necklace landed on the table with a heavy clink. For too long she’d shrunk away from passion. From love. No longer. It was about time she did something about it.

Kenneth drew in a breath as he headed for the Turkish baths. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to finish what he had started. Her sweet taste still lingered in his mouth. Sensing her arousal, he’d wanted to continue until she reached her peak, but at the last minute he’d pulled back, needing to hold her in his arms as he watched her experience sexual gratification for the first time. The fear tightening her face had changed his mind.

He wanted to coax her to him, to fuel her desire until the tiny smoldering ember was ready to incinerate her. Best to leave her to ruminate over what had happened—how she’d been tied, helpless, but experienced only pleasure. Anticipation was nearly as sweet as fulfillment. Let the demons of the past battle new sensations of passion coursing through her. Eventually she would lie, warm and willing, in his arms.

Warm steam misted the air as he entered the men’s bath chamber. Kenneth frowned, wishing for cold water. He glanced down at his throbbing cock. Very cold water.

The room was elongated, with a rectangular pool. Green-and-white mosaic tiles in an Islamic pattern adorned the floor. Two women, graceful and exotic, greeted him. He was the only occupant and he went directly into the pool. As he sank into the heated water, which rose to his waist, the shorter woman came over, bearing a large sea sponge. She dampened his shoulders and arms, and began washing him.

Kenneth closed his eyes, enjoying the soft hands soaping his shoulders, wishing they were Badra’s.

A startled gasp filled the air.

He opened one eye and wanted to cheer. Accompanied by the eunuch he’d hired to guard her door, Badra stood at the pool’s edge, a visible pout tugging her lovely bottom lip. She looked annoyed.

Kenneth offered a lazy smile, hiding his delight. "Hullo."

"What are you doing?"

‘Taking a bath."

"With her?"

"Not with her," he corrected, glancing up at the maid. "She’s merely washing me."

Ice shone in fractured shards in Badra’s dark eyes. She said in a quiet, chill tone he’d never heard before, "Leave us," to both the women and the eunuch.

They looked to him for affirmation. He nodded. As they scrambled away, Badra narrowed her eyes.

Kenneth sat up in the shallow water, legs outstretched, arms draped over the bath’s edge. "Well, Badra? I’m not yet finished bathing. Since you sent away my attendant ..."

Kenneth’s look was steady, frankly assessing and boldly challenging. Badra swallowed so hard her throat muscles clenched. He held out the sponge.

Badra knew Kenneth’s question meant more than a mere bath. If she accepted, there’d be no turning back. But, for so long she had been afraid. Fear had kept her from love. No longer.

Sinking to her knees, she took the sponge, her fingers brushing his. With hesitant, jerky strokes, she began to wash him. The sponge slid over Kenneth’s flesh, lathering him in foamy soap. Suds cascaded over him. Kenneth closed his eyes and released a groan.

Slightly emboldened, Badra’s strokes became firmer, rubbing his broad shoulders, the powerful muscles of his back, down the thick biceps and the tattoos, the coiled cobra and the new one, the ankh, the symbol for life. Foam caught in the dark hairs of his muscled chest. She sponged his torso and stopped short. Kenneth’s intent gaze held hers.

"All of me, my love. Wash all of me," he said.

She sensed a tremendous crossroads ahead. It was up to her to traverse it or stop. Did she have the courage to forge on? Do
you want to know passion, my love?

His husky whisper echoed in her mind. I can do this, she assured herself. No hard lust gleamed in his eyes, only brooding patience and tender love.

Drawing a quivering breath, she dipped the sponge below the water, to the hardened length of him. He closed his eyes and shuddered as she stroked. His male flesh tightened under her trembling hand. A helpless groan rumbled from his chest.

With a start, Badra realized she had done this to him, her Khepri. Her warrior, who had vowed life and limb to protect her. His muscles tensed and clenched as if engaged in a battle. A sudden sense of her own power surfaced.

His brilliant blue eyes flashed open. "No more," he rasped, taking the sponge away. "Now it’s your turn."

Water droplets sprayed out as he twisted and stood, sweeping her into his arms. Lowered into the water, Badra uttered a startled shriek. Her turquoise gown clung to her skin and she stared up with huge eyes. "I’m very wet," she breathed.

"Are you now?" he asked in a smooth, deep voice. "We need to remove your beautiful gown then."

Slowly he unfastened each tiny pearl button and parted the fabric, then slid the dress from her sloping shoulders. Badra’s breath hitched as he kissed her neck. With an impatient tug, the gown dropped into the water, baring her body.

Kenneth drew her into his arms, kissing her deeply. His mouth felt like hot honey, delicious and sweet. He rained kisses to her chin, then feathered them across her neck to the deep hollow of her throat. She felt aflame. New and frightening sensations swallowed her whole.

Pulling away, Kenneth studied her, passion deepening his blue eyes to indigo. "Badra, do you want this? Do you want me? If you say yes ..."

She wanted to fan the smoldering spark he’d ignited with heated kisses and tender caresses. Badra nodded slowly.

"No regrets?" he asked thickly.

"No," she managed to gasp. A tiny fear, like the pulsing of a miniature heart, fluttered. "What ... are you going to do to me, Khepri?"

His warm hand cupped her cheek, caressing it. "I’m going to love you, Badra. Love you all over until you scream from the wanting—and the aching," he said quietly.

Then his lips descended on hers in an engulfing kiss, coaxing them apart as his tongue delved deep into her mouth, thrusting in and out.