Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) (25 page)

“So, why is it you didn’t recognize me? I knew you the instant I saw you.”

He shook his head. “I have not dreamed for many years until I met you at the pyramids. I had buried those memories deep in my heart. They hurt just to think of them, believing I’d left you on another world, and now I was stranded here.”

“And that’s why you married? Because you were alone?”

* * * *

He blanched. “Because I was weak.”

She sighed. Guilt and pain shown in his eyes. That was something she could ease, at least. “Four thousand years is a long time to wait.”

He whirled to stare at her in disbelief. “You are not angry?”

“Should I be?”

“But I forsook you. I took another.”

She sighed. The fireballs sparked a little higher. “I can’t say that pleases me, but I can understand that. It’s just,” she motioned with her hand to encompass the space around them, “there’s just so much to take in.” She stared out his bedroom window at the city for long moments.

“I understand. I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” he said. “If you wish to return to Selket’s, I would understand.”

He spun on his heel and stepped into the kitchen.

Tamara turned to the bedroom, walking to the bed in a daze. She dropped to the soft mattress, Ramose’s footsteps still firm in the next room.

Oh, God, what am I going to do?

She rested her elbows on her knees. The man was over four thousand years old. How were they going to survive as a couple if all she could think of was how old she’d look in fifty years? Or maybe even in twenty years?

Axriad
. That’s what he’d called her before. A child. The comment made sense now.

When she’d danced for him at the restaurant, he hadn’t looked at her like a child. His eyes had darkened with hunger. Just thinking of that night sent a wave of heat rushing through her body. He was so powerful. She’d never met anyone who could control ice. A man who could encase her in a cocoon and still throw ice daggers at the man he called his brother.

But there was more to him than his magic. He hadn’t hesitated when Julie had been hurt. He’d stepped in immediately to see she was cared for. He was a leader. A man born of ice, a man born of heart and soul.

Every time she looked at him, she remembered his touch, and it vibrated all the way to her soul. If she’d never had the dreams, if she’d met Ramose on the street, somehow, she knew she’d still think he was the sexiest thing alive.

How much of her attraction was driven by those silly dreams?

None
. The first time she’d laid eyes on him was the first time she’d felt attraction. Prior to that, he was nothing more than a figment of her imagination. A man who didn’t truly exist. She had never desired him, before.

Frustrated, she dropped her arms to her legs and looked up. A shrunk sat on the opposite wall. A garment hung over the door. Her costume. The one she’d bought at the market that day. Was it just two days? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

That garment was special to him. The dream where he’d thought she’d said goodbye. The look in his eye at that moment was guilt. He really thought she’d be angry that he married someone more than three thousand years before?

Maybe age didn’t matter. She didn’t want to be the one person who met her soul mate and then led a miserable life because she’d passed him by.

Her mind played over the looks that had passed between them. Before he knew who she was, how he’d fought the building attraction. She’d seen it in his eyes at the museum. In the car, and even a little that first night.

And, then, he’d finally recognized her. The pure joy and lust in his eyes had shone through, and his kiss, well, that she’d felt all the way to her toes.

* * * *

Ramose stood in his kitchen, fighting the cold surging through his veins. He ached to release the power, setting ice to everything in the room. The need to release the tight sensation building in his chest stretched the tattered edges of his control. He closed his eyes, struggling to maintain the control he’d used for centuries. If she rejected him now, after he’d shared everything, he wasn’t sure how he would survive.

He didn’t know how long he stood, unable to think or act, when a whisper of a sound caught his attention. Moving toward the living room, he peered inside.

Darkness greeted him, broken by the soft glow from the fireplace. Candles, with their small flames dancing in the night, dotted the furniture in his living room. Candles he’d laid out for Tamara.

The couch, once the center of the room, was now pushed to one side, revealing a wide, empty space between him and the fireplace. Centered before him, Tamara stood, her smooth back bared to his eyes.

His heart thudded hard in his chest as he took in the soft, delicate skin. A fiery red chiffon skirt floated in the darkness to her small delicate ankles, her feet were bare. The slit of the filmy cloth exposed the long, well-muscled leg all the way high to her waist. Ramose swallowed. Hard. She was wearing the same Raks Sharki costume he’d purchased for her at the market.

The same as in his vision.

His cool demeanor disappeared. The cold in his veins warmed, and sweat beaded on his brow. In a flash, his body hardened, hungry to take what was his by right. By covenant.

His chest constricted as his greatest fantasy took flight. For thousands of years, he’d dreamed of this moment: The instant in time when his
Kha-Ib
would dance the Raks Sharki for him, and for him alone. He drew in a long breath, fighting to steady the erratic flutter of his heart.

The first beats of the slow beladi drums echoed in the small room. In an instant, his heart slowed to match their four beat rhythm. Every muscle in his body screamed in anticipation, his groin painfully hard. She’d danced for him before, and she knew what it did to him. Knew how much he’d wanted her before they’d been interrupted. Surely, this was her way of sending a message.

Soft, wooden pipes played taunting, earthy music, and he waited, his breath frozen in his lungs. Her hips swayed with feminine assuredness, sinuous and sensuous.

Ramose stepped deeper into the room, hungry to feel her body, to taste the sweetness he knew lay within. Arousal coiled deep in his gut, twisting and building with every move of her body. The scent from the candles couldn’t hide her feminine sweetness, the spicy aroma of lilies. The heat from her gift called to him, rippling through the air between them as though hungry to heat the icy cold center of his being. He forced air into his lungs.

She was exquisite.

She was his
Kha-Ib
.

The hypnotic swaying and undulating of her hips drew his eyes, and he swallowed the hard lump in his throat. She danced in a circle, her long, delicate arms moving with the grace of the serpent already adorning her arm. The veil in her light-fingered grasp was an extension of her beauty and seduction. The urge to touch her overwhelmed the pleasure of her dance, and he reached out to take her in his arms, but she had already moved on.

Her body turned, twirling. The delicate garment she wore hid as much as it displayed, teasing and taunting him, floating from shoulder to knee. One moment displaying the long, muscled leg, the next hinting at the curve of a breast. Gods of Egypt, she was killing him.

At last, she slowed, facing him, her eyes a sultry mix of innocence and eroticism. The fire of her costume matched the golden ring of fire in her eyes. Then her lashes fluttered as though a moment of shyness rippled through her. But she didn’t stop. Thank the gods, she didn’t stop. Instead, she moved forward, her head tipped back, a challenge burning in her expression.

His dreams had done nothing to prepare him for this moment. For in them, she was merely a woman, dressed in beautiful clothing. But here. Here, she was fire. Here, she was heat and passion. Fire he couldn’t wait to let singe his fingers, passion his tongue hungered to taste.

Pure female. Strong. Magickal. And hungry for him.

She danced closer, his hand reached out, grasping nothing but air, for she again twirled away like a spark burning in the night. Untouchable and beautiful. Inside, he knew she held the power of the dragon, hot and deadly. She was his
Kha-Ib
. The heart to his soul. But she was also strength. What she’d accomplished today alone terrified and aroused him.

The rush of lust surged through his blood, piercing his control, demanding he seize her.
Now
. But he would wait.

She circled him, the brush of silk teasing his flesh. Ramose swallowed. He folded his arms to keep from reaching out, gripping his biceps until his knuckles turned white. Her rich, lily scent wafted about him, caught in the current between them, filling his lungs with her essence.

Her hungry gaze never left him, as though taking in his every response. The control over his born talent wavered, and fingers of ice skittered over his skin, radiating from his palms to his forearms. With every breath, he wanted to touch her, to taste her. He fought to control his need even as sparks flicked around her body.

Never before had fire been so wonderfully enticing. For centuries, he’d avoided it, fearing it would damage his own talent. But the gods didn’t make mistakes. If she damaged his ice, so be it.

* * * *

Dragging the edges of the veil across his shoulders, Tamara grew mesmerized by the tiny flicks in his muscles beneath her touch. He stood, deceptively still, like a wild predator stalking his prey, his eyes trailing her every movement. Even now, with her behind him, she knew he sensed every sway of her body.

She needed this. To take control and show him what she wanted. To show she was not the child he thought her to be. Every move she made was designed to tease and arouse. Every step she took designed to build her confidence. And it was working. Her fingers itched with the desire to reach out and touch him. To feel his cooling energy against the heat of her body.

Even now, he reminded her of the cobra adorning his arm. Intense. Sleek. Powerful. And hungry. A shiver ran down her spine at the comparison. Prey. Yes, that’s what she was this night. Just as he was hers.

Tamara took a deep, cleansing breath then closed her eyes, letting the music take her. The melody seeped into her body, soothing her fears, soothing her soul, and washing away her doubts. The scarf fluttered against her back, and she raised her arm, lifting the soft silk higher. The new pose offered a full view of her body from the side, her leg shifting with the beat, her hip rising and falling.

A rough growl of approval rumbled from Ramose.

Tamara bit back a smile and drew closer before spinning around again. A flick of her wrist sent the scarf flying over his head. It fluttered, landing on his shoulders. She tugged the ends, pulling him close. His breath feathered across her lips.

“You think I don’t want you.” Her voice a soft, angry whisper. “You’re wrong.”

His darkened eyes widened then narrowed. He reached out, snagging her about the waist.

“Explain,” he whispered, his voice harsh.

She gave a seductive smile, her nails trailing down his naked chest, teasing him with a light touch. He shuddered then lowered his head, his lips now so close she need only lift her chin to meet them.

“I am your soul mate. I never doubted that. Just knowing you has made me face my past and my future all at once.” The muscles beneath her fingers hardened, and his eyes darkened, filled with hunger.

“You have nothing—”

Tamara pressed her fingers over his lips.

Tamara sensed the instant change in him. The cold flesh dissolved, and, in its place, heat burned in his eyes. Long fingers fisted in her hair, dragging her head back. His breath teased her throat, his lips drawing a path down the soft, vulnerable skin.

“
Nanik
,” he murmured.

She recognized the word and murmured her assent.
Nanik
.

He growled as his lips trailed down her neck. The vibration sent a shiver of lust down her spine, sparking the heat deep inside. For a moment, they swayed to the music, his hands caressing, his lips tasting.

He cupped the cheeks of her rear, pulling her hard against him. Tamara bit her lip, fighting the soft whimper of desire lodged in her throat.

The music changed, moving to a slow, erotic beat. Grasping the last tendrils of her control, she pushed away.

Ramose groaned his disappointment, and she had to fight back one of her own, already missing the hard caress of his body. She gave him a shy smile and backed toward the soft pillows she’d arranged on the floor. She’d known the instant she decided to dance for him where this would take her. A twinge of fear skittered up her spine, but she banished it. Her past was gone. Just as was his.

Today, they would start fresh.

She needed him. His touch. His kiss. His body. The strength and power he held inside him reached for her, calling to her as no other man had. He cooled the raging inferno always burning inside her while stoking a new one in its place.

The instant her ankles backed into the cushions, Tamara dropped to their softness. He was right beside her, following her every moment, dropping to his knees before her. The hunger in his eyes took her breath away, and she forced herself to remember to breathe. She again banished a sliver of fear threatening to skitter up her spine. She would not be afraid of this man.

She expected him to join her on the soft bed she’d created.

He didn’t.

Instead, a cool hand closed around her right ankle, placing her foot upon his thigh. Long, calloused fingers caressed her calf, teasing her already warmed flesh with his cool touch. Inch by inch, his hands caressed higher and higher, the rough skin of his palms in such contrast to the soothing, gentle touch.

He lifted her foot to his shoulder, his lips cooling her overheated skin. She groaned at the soft, sensual sensation of soft, hungry kisses against her ankle. He moved forward, his mouth trailing upward, easing past her knees, his hands caressing every inch of flesh on the way. When he reached her hips, he continued upward, teasing her belly. He felt so good. So right.

Long, masculine fingers teased the edges of the sequined bra, but he didn’t remove it. She moved to do it for him, and he shook his head.