Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) (8 page)

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

He started then looked at her, the wash of blue fading to mix with the rest of the confusing colors around him. “No.” He shook his head. “I was just thinking of your viewpoint. It strikes a chord is all. We Egyptians tend to take our King Tutankhamen seriously.”

“So I see. But you said you aren’t Egyptian.”

He shrugged. “No, but, as I said before, this is home.”

She turned her attention back to the displays and moved to examine the jewelry and artifacts. From the pectoral, to the casket, to the ankh missing its chain. Each one exquisite in its design. Each piece, so delicately created, told a story. Each one showed the power of the artisan who created it, blending with the spirit of the boy king who wore them.

Tamara remembered the dream from last night.
A boy king, dethroned by death.
The phrase wouldn’t leave her mind. Had Ramose lived in that time? In a previous incarnation? She’d never believed in reincarnation, despite what Julie had said, but, now, she began to wonder.

“Perhaps we should leave and let the tourists come back in.”

Tamara jerked her attention back to Ramose then smiled sheepishly. She gave a quick glance at her watch and was surprised to find she’d been in the room for more than an hour.

“Wow, I guess you’re right! I didn’t realize we’d been here so long.”

* * * *

The two left the building while it was still filled with tourists and archeologists. People milled all about them, entering and leaving. Someone brushed past them quickly, slamming into Tamara’s side.

“Hey, watch it!”

The man avoided her eyes, but she recognized him. He was the one who’d given them the angry look when they’d kicked him out of the Tut exhibit. The man hurried along, his hands shoved into his pocket, a glower on his face.

“Some people are just rude,” she murmured.

Ramose chuckled. “You’re right there. But maybe he was an art student upset with his sudden change of plans.”

“True,” she murmured. She’d bet there were tons of budding history and art students mixed in with the throngs of people. What better way to learn about a culture than to view the art left behind?

Tamara glanced at Ramose. In ways, he too seemed to be a piece of art from a time long past. A past she saw in her head that seemed so real in her heart.
Will I always think of him as someone from ancient times? Or will I finally see him for what he is today?
A contemporary man, one who was as strong and powerful as the man in her dreams?

When he reached around her to open the car door for her, his masculine scent teased her senses, pleasuring her insides with a wash of sudden arousal. Her eyes fluttered in appreciation. She stepped into the car, gripping the front seat in clenched fingers to hide the shudder in her body.
Damn, he smelled good.
Once inside, she slid across behind the driver.

“So, tell me why you have a driver.” The dark man’s eyes met hers in the mirror, his head nodding in acknowledgement.

Ramose nodded and folded himself in beside her. “I’ve never been much of a driver. At least, not in the city, and Jakkar happens to like to drive. It makes for a good arrangement.”

“So, he’s not your employee?”

He shook his head, a frown between his brows. “I’m not sure how to explain it, but, no, Jakkar is more friend than employee.”

“But doesn’t he get paid? Jakkar, does Ramose pay you to drive for him?”

The man’s eyes crinkled in the mirror, and he nodded. “Yes, madam, he takes good care of me, but I do not drive for him often.”

“Really?” She looked between the two men. “Why not?”

The car pulled onto the main road, and the man behind the wheel shrugged his shoulders. But when she expected him to tell her the reason why, his voice turned sharp.

“We’re being followed.”

Ramose spun to stare out the back window of the car, searching the vehicles behind them.

“
Which one
,” he asked.

“
The blue Toyota
.
It pulled out behind us when we left the museum.
”

Ramose cursed. “
Damn. Turn right
.”

The car swerved, throwing Tamara hard against the door. She grabbed the seat.

“
Didn’t lose them. Try again
.”

The car swerved again, this time throwing Tamara hard against Ramose’s side. He righted her, absorbed in the apparent car chase.

Shit
.

They turned another corner, and both men stared behind them, one using the mirror, the other turned to face the rear. After a time, she sensed the softening of Ramose’s muscles as he relaxed. He turned back in his seat.

“
It must have been one of Amunkha’s followers
.”

“Why would Amunkha be following you?”

Ramose jerked his head around, staring at her.

Damn
. The more she thought about it, the more she realized they weren’t speaking English, yet she’d understood every word. How the hell had that happened? She didn’t know Arabic, or whatever language they were using. And if the expression of shock and anger on Ramose’s face was an indication, he didn’t like her eavesdropping on his conversation.

* * * *

Ramose struggled with the sudden sense of danger. He stared at Tamara, her eyes suddenly wide with surprise.
Who the hell was she?
He tightened the muscles in his jaw.

Switching to mental communication, he returned to the problem at hand.
Ideas
? asked Ramose in Jakkar’s head. He didn’t have to clarify. If Tamara understood ancient Egyptian, she definitely was not just a human who’d come across the
Naphsua
. She was something else all together.

“
I don’t know. Maybe she guessed. Amunkha’s name was mentioned, and it was pretty obvious we were dodging the car behind us
.”

“
It’s possible, but I don’t think so. She knows she slipped up. She’s not who I thought, Jakkar. She’s dangerous
.”

“
And she is in danger as well
.”

“
True
.”

“Are you two going to talk to me? Or are you going to continue with the telepathy?”

Jakkar glanced in the mirror, his dark eyes filled with worry.

Ramose wanted to tell the man to leave everything to him, but now he hesitated to communicate at all. Could she hear their words in their heads as easily as she understood Petiri? Maybe she had studied enough ancient Egyptian to figure it out. The two languages were almost the same.

The car pulled into the hotel’s circular driveway and parked near the end of the taxi row.

Ramose pursed his lips. Now was as good a time as any to find out who and what she was. She wasn’t Petiri. He was sure of it. At least, as sure he could be of anything at the moment. He opened the car door. “Later,” he said to Jakkar. Once he had this out with her, he could concentrate on tracking down Amunkha and his goons and find out why they were chasing them. He got out of the car and waited as she slid out.

Despite everything, Ramose’s hand itched to take hers, to feel her soft flesh beneath his palm. Then he remembered the surge of heat he’d felt at the elevator. Something wasn’t right about this female. He would have his answers. He would forget trying to be subtle and wooing her. She was dangerous, and, obviously, Amunkha wanted either her, her
Napshua
, or Ramose, and the only way to find out which was to first learn about her.

They strode wordlessly across the cold hard floor, and Ramose punched the button for the elevator. He could sense her anger building between them.

Good
. She had a hell of a lot of explaining to do. Like how she could speak Petiri, how she could have a Petiri
Napshua
, and how the hell had she recognized telepathy.

Maybe once he knew what and who she was, he could choose the next course of action. Human was one thing, but this newfound talent was uncomfortable. Dangerous, even. He’d learned long ago humans couldn’t be trusted with his secrets.

He cursed to himself. When the elevator stopped on her floor, they stepped out. With meticulous care, he escorted her down the hall, one hand brushing the small of her back. Heat burned through to his fingertips. A heat which called to him, warming the cold core of his body and soul. Explosive or not, he could only hope he managed to diffuse the situation before he lost control.

She unlocked her door and strode inside. He couldn’t miss the sensual sway of her hips. He pursed his lips. Everything about her was maddening. Her scent, her body, her talents, and her ability to speak a language that didn’t belong on this world. If he didn’t get some answers soon, something would detonate, and he was sure it would be him.

Ramose shut the door, ignoring the desire in his body and stormed inward toward the sitting area. “Who are you?” he demanded.

Chapter Ten

“Who are you?”

Ramose barely whispered the words before he realized they were a mistake. Anger boiled in Tamara’s eyes, and he could swear he saw flames burning behind that beautiful blue and gold iris.

“What the hell do you mean, who am I?”

“I mean,” he backtracked, “how is it you can speak ancient Egyptian?”

Confusion whispered across her face before vanishing. Her back straightened. “So that was ancient Egyptian?”

“Oh, come on, Tamara. It’s not like you studied it in high school. Where did you learn it?”

The spark of anger burned bright again. “And, therefore, I shouldn’t know it, right?
Little ol’ me
couldn’t be smart enough to understand such a thing. Is that what you mean?”

“You know very well that is not what I meant.” Just because he lived in a primarily Muslim nation didn’t mean he believed women were stupid. “It’s not like you could learn this from the average teacher. And not once have you said you are interested in languages. I don’t know much about you, Tamara, but what you just did shouldn’t have been possible.”

“I see.” She ripped off her waist pack she’d worn all morning and tossed it on the bed. “It’s okay for you to study ancient languages, but not me.”

Ramose gripped the chair by the window, struggling for control. Something was wrong. Every time he was near her, his own talents tried to escape his control. He wanted to either wrap her in his arms and bury his face in her hair, or turn her over his knee. In two days, she’d shredded the one thing his people counted on.

“So, you studied ancient languages? Tell me, when?” The question was more a demand, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried. “And while you’re at it, why not tell me how you heard the telepathy between Jakkaar and myself?’

“I didn’t hear it.” The admission looked like it pained her. As though she wished she had.

“But you knew what was happening?”

She nodded. “The same way I knew Amunkha was planning to hurt you.” Her voice was sharper than he’d heard it before, and he knew she sensed the surge of power in the room as well. His power and hers. His body vibrated, and, try as he might, he couldn’t seem to stop it.

“And how was that?”

She shrugged, but he could see the fire burning in her eyes. “Because my family has some telepathy skills. And why is this any of your business, anyway?” Tiny flames burst to life in the candles she’d displayed around the room. “It’s not like I was eavesdropping on purpose. If you didn’t want me to listen, you should have just kept it in telepathy.”

Another surge of power rushed through Ramose’s body, and the mirror behind the dresser cracked.

“What about you, Ramose? How is it you are able to talk to your driver without opening your mouth?”

He frowned and took a deep breath, struggling to get control where none existed. “And how did you understand what I said aloud? I demand an answer, Tamara, who are you?”

Tamara let out an exasperated sigh, her hands flailing in frustration. “Demand away. The answer isn’t going to change. I’m me, Ramose. Just me. Don’t stand here in my hotel room and treat me like I’m some sort of criminal. If you want answers to questions, you have to answer mine.”

Ramose stared at those beautiful eyes again, mesmerized by the flames within. Then let his gaze drop to her mouth. Even in anger, it seemed set in the most beautiful shape. The ice in his body ramped up, rushing through his veins as though readying for something. Just what he wasn’t sure.

“I’m waiting.” Her voice lowered, husky and erotic.

The ice chilled to a burn, and he knew a new ache. A new hunger he’d never experienced before.

“You first. You are the one here, in my country, adopted it may be. You are the one listening in on conversations not meant for your ears.” He finally shoved the chair away, unable to bear the idea of anything between them.

“Fine.” She released the clasp at her waist and tossed her old fanny pack across to the bed. It landed in the center. “You really want to know? I dream in that language. I had no idea what it was until you told me.”

That got his attention. He jerked his gaze back to meet her eyes. “What kind of dreams?”

She shrugged. “That part’s private. Just know I dream of ancient times and that’s what brought me to Egypt, to see if I could figure out why.” Turning to face him, she took a deep breath and released it. “Your turn.”

He moved toward her. “You dream in ancient Egyptian? That’s not possible.”

She didn’t step back, and they stood just inches apart. Her heat reached for him, and he could swear steam sizzled along his skin.

“How the hell would you know? You don’t know a damned thing about me, Ramose. You attach yourself to me while I’m on vacation, and you have yet to ask me a single personal question. Everything you talk about or even look at is this damned arm bracelet.”

Anger simmered beneath the surface of her eyes, and the flames burned brighter on the candles surrounding the room. Power flitted between them. Soft wax dripped upon the dresser and down the television screen beside her. She ignored it.

“What are you?” he demanded.

“What am I?” A hot breeze filled the room. “I’m a woman from North Carolina. The daughter of parents who are dead. The sister to three sisters and one brother. That’s who I am.”