Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) (12 page)

The evil sneer slid from his face, his features softening, his eyes widening. Dark obsidian eyes swirled, changing to deep liquid brown “I think maybe you can help me,” he said.

Tamara narrowed her gaze. What the hell was going on? She didn’t respond, but watched warily.

“No one else has been strong enough, yet I think you can save me, and save Ramose.”

He reached out a hand as though to grip hers, and Tamara jerked back. Whatever the hell was going on, she was not about to let this man touch her again.

Yet, even as she tucked her hands in her lap, counting each breath in an effort to maintain control of her talents, she fought the urge to reach out. Magick energy dusted her arms. Like tiny butterfly wings, it travelled over her skin, igniting the sensation that this was a different man than the one she’d just done her best to send away.

Then he changed. The swirl in his eyes appeared again, only to return to the deep and soulless black, his aura darkening to match. His lips curved back into their standard sly sneer.

Shit. He’d almost convinced her he could be human, and then he changed again. The stench of evil power slid over her skin like a dark, icy blanket.

The waiter brought her boxed salad, and she stood, tossing her cloth napkin to the table. “Enjoy your meal, Amunkha,” she said, as she scribbled her signature on her check. “And the next time you think of sitting beside me when you see me, don’t.”

Amunkha grabbed her bicep, his fingers closing around her
Napshua
. With a curse, he jerked his hand away.

Tamara jolted in surprise then looked at the hand he nursed. Tiny blisters formed on his palm before her eyes, his fingers held an angry burn.

“What the hell?” Comprehension dawned in his eyes. Barely contained fury radiated in waves. He was pissed.

Too damned bad
. She’d moved beyond pissed some time ago.

Turning to leave, her gaze still on Amunkha, Tamara ran straight into a solid wall of muscle. She looked up, startled to see Ramose. He caught her, saving her balance then circled her wrist with his hand. He pulled her around him and planted his body between hers and Amunkha’s.

“You should have called for me,”
she heard in her mind.

“Amunkha, I told you to stay away from the tourists.” Pure steel rang in his voice, the warning unmistakable.

“I was just getting to know her. She is such a charming creature, alone in our country. And you are such a busy man.” Amunkha’s voice was friendly, but his smile was false and tight.

“I will not play this game. It is beneath even you to taunt the tourists.”

Two energies could not be more different. They clashed, battling for supremacy, bouncing off one another’s bodies. No wonder the men hated one another. While Ramose’s aura was flashing with bright red protective fury, Amunkha’s remained dark, swirling from grey to black. Ghost-like fingers reached for anyone close enough for it to touch.

“But we both know,” Amunkha hissed, “she is no mere tourist.”

Ramose again refused the bait. “Pettiness does not befit you. I know you were at the museum. Cease your machinations.” He leaned toward Amunkha, his voice even lower, lethal. “You will stay away from the museum, and you will stay away from Tamara.”

The two glared at one another before Amunkha finally nodded, but his eyes remained hard.

Ramose straightened. He slid his hand from Tamara’s wrist to her palm, linking his fingers with hers. He turned and stalked out of the room, dragging her with him. “
Slow down
,” she whispered into his mind. “
He doesn’t need to see me fall over with you dragging me. I prefer to make a graceful exit.”

Ramose shortened his stride, but otherwise said not a word. Tamara hid a tremulous smile. For the first time, she was able to use telepathy in another’s mind who wasn’t family. She wondered if she could ever feel what he was thinking the way she could her brother.

Chapter Thirteen

The door to the elevator whisked close. Tamara knew she should really be upset, but, for some reason, she wasn’t. She couldn’t resist. “Cease your machinations?” Talk about old English.

Ramose frowned, but didn’t answer. Probably because he was too busy fuming. From beside him, she could see the waves of angry energy pulsing about his body.

“I didn’t ask him to join me,” she said airily. While the interlude with Amunkha had been uncomfortable, her skills at blocking the man had improved since his surprise visit. The repulsive tingle of the man’s touch still crawled along her arm, but she refused to let it get to her. The sweater she’d grabbed on the way down for lunch hadn’t been much in the way of protection.

“I didn’t think you had.” He still gripped her hand, and he stared at the numbers, watching the floors pass.

Tamara thought about arguing with him. She may not know him in this life, but she knew his face from her dreams. And no matter what he’d said, that was jealousy she’d seen when she looked up at him after slamming into his chest. Her body warmed, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Then why are you so angry with me?”

He whipped his head around, his eyes surprised. The elevator opened, and he stepped out, his hand still gripping hers. “I never said I was angry with you.”

“Then you’re angry with Amunkha?”

He held his hand out for her key. She frowned and handed it to him.

“Of course, I’m angry with him. But I’m angrier with myself. I told him to stay away from tourists. I should have known he would do exactly the opposite.”

He opened the door and motioned for her to go in ahead of him. She waited until he closed the door before responding. “So that’s what I am to you? A tourist?” She knew she was pushing him, but she wanted to know the answer. In all but one of her recurring dreams, he’d almost always been alone, but Amunkha’s comment about Ramose wanting to play with fire still burned inside her. What if the present day Ramose had been a ladies man? Jealousy twisted in her gut, but she refused to let it control her.

Once inside, he moved to the window and closed the drapes. He turned to stare at her, leaning against the table by the window, his hands in his pockets. The man looked the epitome of control. “No, you’re not just a tourist.” And sounded that way, too.

“I see,” she said, tossing her waist pack and sweater on the bed. She wanted to pursue more on that line, but not till after she’d resolved one more issue. “And what about Amunkha? What’s his deal, Ramose? It seems I’ve somehow gotten in the middle of a cat and mouse game, and I’ve turned into the mouse.”

His hungry gaze roamed over her body, and, for the first time since Amunkha had stepped into the scene today, feminine power surged through her.

The way he studied her was so like the look he’d given her in the shower. Damn, if he wasn’t sexy. Then she remembered him in the towel and swallowed a soft sigh. The white terry cloth had been so bright against his tanned flesh, accenting every bulge and every hard edge of his body. Tamara bit her lower lip, fighting the need to sweep her tongue across delicate skin, as her mouth watered in some ungodly desire to taste his mouth.

“What did he say to you?”

She shrugged and folded her arms, hoping to hide the sudden heaviness and rapid breathing in her chest. “Nothing much. It wasn’t what he said as much as what he didn’t say, and what I felt when he said it. He makes my skin crawl.”

* * * *

Ramose studied her from across the room. He tried to see her as he saw all human females. A woman who would run screaming at the knowledge he wasn’t born on this planet. Yet, try as he might, he couldn’t. The sweet curve of her lips was like a magnet, drawing his hungry eyes to the moist soft skin. The sight of her biting her lip was as provocative as the sway of a dancer’s hips.

He gave an inward shake of his head. He could not go down that path. He had to first keep her safe.

Everyone he knew, human or Petiri, avoided Amunkha, either because they saw what he was, or some survival instinct within them sensed his evil.

Yet when he’d entered the dining room, she’d shown anger, but didn’t seem to have a problem tolerating the man’s presence. Whatever the case, she was not what she appeared. He did not know this woman, despite the odd tendency he’d developed of wanting to touch her. Hell, he wanted to lay her on her bed and run his hands over that soft, feminine body, and that was dangerous. He had to remember, fire devoured ice.

“The next time you see him, you will not tolerate his presence. You will leave at once. Don’t worry about courtesy.”

She frowned, and the flush of pink in her cheeks paled. “I can make my own decision.” She threw her arms out in frustration. “I’m a grown woman, and, like I said before, I don’t let anyone tell me how to behave.”

The spark of anger in her eyes only attracted him more. Everything about her seemed to arouse him. The scent of lilies. That was it. He wasn’t attracted to her. It was the smell of the one flower he’d always loved which drew him. It had to be.

She let out a sound of disgust and turned, pacing toward the bed, her hands rubbing her arms as if she were suddenly cold. The motion of her hands drew his eyes. Each stroke, though intended as self-comfort, looked more sensual than the one before. Her hands dragged his thoughts to a place they had no business sinking.

Inside of her.

The rush of ice burned through his blood. Yes, burned. In all his life, he had never been so aroused, and his ice had never reached the level of cold it did when he looked at her and let his imagination run rampant. Every time he looked at her, a fervor of need burned in his body.

Ramose spun toward the window, forcing his eyes to focus on the pattern of the curtains, the intricate wood grain in the small table. Anything to get control of his wild emotions. Right now, he needed to protect her. Not bed her.

He heard the whisper of a sound and knew she’d stepped up behind him. Her scent stole over him, coiling inside his lungs, dripping its sweet spicy smell into his soul. “Most people would not have handled him as cleverly as you did.” Gods, he hoped she didn’t realize how rough his voice sounded.

“Tell me about him.” Her voice was soft and sympathetic. Her hands ran up his back. Soothing warmth eased the ice in his veins. His own gift melted

at the simple touch of her hands.

Dangerous.

And, yet, it felt so damned good.

Ramose closed his eyes, fighting the urge to turn into her caress, to see where it would take them.

Ramose sighed and pulled back the curtain. The grey remains of the once beautiful pyramids peered back at them. They looked almost…lonely. In the midst of a huge city, they stood out, towering above everything else. So different from the rest of the construction. So different from the rest of the world.
I can understand that feeling
.

“Trust me, Ramose.”

There was that word again. Trust. For the first time in many centuries, he wished he could trust. Yet millennia ago, he’d learned trust meant death. To him. Or worse, to someone he cared about. But he couldn’t lie to her. Deep inside, the thought was abhorrent. He let out a resigned sigh.

“He killed my sister.” He forced the words from his throat.

Her hands stopped their gentle caress, but she didn’t speak, waiting for him to continue.

He fisted the curtain as he struggled to focus on her question and not the stillness of her touch. “You already know I come from a race that has extraordinary powers of the mind.”

“Yes, I remember. I’ve seen it.”

“Some of us are able to use those powers to influence others should we so desire. Especially those with weaker minds than our own. Like any race, there were those among us unscrupulous enough to use their talents to direct politics. It was dangerous and threatened to expose our abilities.”

“And so your internal ruling body prohibited this use of magick?”

He nodded. “Then my sister fell in love with a man of great power here in Egypt, and they were wed. The council didn’t step in because, as a people, we respect soul mate connections, and Kiya insisted they were soul mates. Amunkha was furious. He had always wanted power himself, and our council fought him at every turn, blocking every chance he had at obtaining control. Now, she had everything he wanted.”

“And so he killed her?”

Ramose nodded again, his forehead pressed against the window as if finding comfort in the cold, smooth surface. “Yes. He did it slowly, so none of us suspected. Poison in their wine. He killed them both, husband and wife. Her husband became ill first, so Kiya helped with his government decisions when possible. Then, she too suffered, and they both died. We couldn’t seem to find the cause. It wasn’t until an old woman admitted she’d seen Amunkha pouring a liquid into the wine we were sure what had happened.” He didn’t say that the king’s first wife had been in on the plot. How the instant the child was born, they’d worked together to rid themselves of the mother of the heir to the throne.

* * * *

His sadness rushed over Tamara like a physical force. He wasn’t only mourning his sister. He mourned for Amunkha as well. The knowledge clicked inside her as if it had always been there. “He was your friend, wasn’t he?”

He nodded then pulled away from her touch, pacing the room. “I let her down, Tamara. I let Amunkha kill her.”

Pain sliced at a chunk of Tamara’s heart. “No,” she denied what he could not. “You did no such thing.” She reached for him, but he jerked away.

“I was supposed to protect her. It’s my fault she was there. She should never have left home.”

Tamara didn’t pretend to understand half of that last statement, but the part she did understand only showed her the man Ramose was. Proud. And in pain. A man who took on too much responsibility for the actions of others. “And if she’d stayed at home, Ramose, would she have found her true love?”

He stopped and faced her. “No,” he whispered.

His dark, green eyes were stricken, though his jaw was clenched tight. His aura blazed with color. His protective instincts were at an all-time high, but the gold and red were dotted with small bits of black. Not the total absence of color like Amunkha’s, but the darkness of grief. It ate at him, like a disease. How she’d missed it before she didn’t know.