Astarte's Wrath (15 page)

Xarion’s features pull together in sharp, serious lines. “I’ll not run. I’ll not hide. I’m a pharaoh of Egypt, son to the greatest queen of the Ptolemies, and I refuse to cower against my enemies. The only way I’ll leave Alexandria is with you by my side, as my companion—
free
.”

I level him with a sharp glare. “I knew you’d say that. And that is precisely why I didn’t want you to know.” Lifting my hand toward his creased brow, I clear his dark hair from his green, brooding eyes. “A possible retaliation by the guardians is just one more weighted burden on top of the many you already carry. You don’t need the added strain. Let me deal with Candra and the Kythan. They’re my kindred. As long as I’m their equal—in both power and status—I can protect you.”

His head tilts, his chest expands. “This is why you won’t be with me.” It’s not a question. Understanding lights his eyes. I nod. “This is the
only
reason.” Again, I nod. “Then I refuse to let them keep us apart for one more moment.” And in one quick motion, Xarion captures my face between his palms and crushes his lips to mine.

I shudder under the intensity of his kiss, his lips desperately seeking, demanding. His passion overwhelms me, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands latch on to my waist, fisting the soaked fabric of my shift, and a low groan rumbles in the back of his throat. That noise does something to my insides. A fire ignites in my chest, hot and consuming, as it travels the length of my body. A low throb blooms between my thighs, and I press that ache forcefully against the hardness beneath me.

As his tongue delves deeper into the hollow of my mouth, searching, caressing—I moan, my fingers curling in his hair. I can’t get close enough to him. It’s as if years of denying myself this feeling, his touch, this pleasure is erupting like a volcano. And there is no way to stop the irrevocable damage its fiery path will cause once the molten heat is gone.

But for this one moment, all those fears disappear.

I want him to touch every spot on my body, kiss every inch—own me, and not stop until I’m too exhausted to think of the consequences.

He must be feeling the same emotions and physical need, too. His hands greedily probe my body, as if trying to memorize it. He lifts his hips, pressing the proof of his need against me, the thin fabric creating an annoying barrier between us. The ache intensifies, and I press down harder. Xarion shudders, his limbs quaking with want.

Forcefully breaking the kiss, he pulls back, gasping. “Don’t deny me your feelings anymore,” he says low. “I need you now—all of you.” He swallows, the cords of his neck tense. “I want to belong to you. Let me please you.” His eyes are heated. “Let me serve
you
.”

Without waiting for my reply, he lifts us out of the water, his arms securing me against his body. His eyes never leave mine as he walks us into his room, then lowers my feet to the floor. Trailing his fingers up my arms, sending shivers dancing over my skin, he reaches the silver clasps of my shift. With a
click
, the clasps come undone, and my wet shift slides down, pooling around my feet.

His eyes roam over my body, and a breath trembles past my mouth when he wets his lips. My whole being craves him, scared if he doesn’t touch me soon this moment will end. That it’s not real. I need to feel him for confirmation that I simply won’t awaken from a dream.

He steps back, and a subtle pain wracks my body. I’ve never known how painful the distance between us was before. I never allowed us to be this close, and after just seconds of finally realizing what I’ve been missing, the longing to have that closeness back is too much.

But he quickly returns to my side after retrieving something from the brightly painted console. With his hands held behind his back, it’s difficult to guess what he’s hiding. My eyes skim over his body, lustfully admiring his toned chest, stomach, thighs—the evidence of how much he wants me. And when he stands behind me, I press my back against his chest, needing to feel connected to him.

Sliding my hair over one shoulder, Xarion places something metallic and cool around my neck. I reach up and feel the smooth metal as I lift the multi-toned gold necklace toward my line of vision. The blue jeweled eyes of a serpent stare back at me, and my breathing halts.

“Xarion—”

“I should have given it to you long ago,” he says. “But you would never give me a moment’s peace to attempt it.” He chuckles.

A hesitant smile lights my face. Asp jewelry is given to show equality, and when a royal gifts it, they’re proclaiming that person
royalty
. Xarion is claiming me as his equal, his match. His other half. My eyes tear, and I jerkily shake my head, clearing the moisture away.

“This is so dangerous, Xarion,” I say. “If anyone ever found out—if the Council discovered—”

“I don’t care.” He runs his hand over my cheek. “My title be damned. I’ve loved you for ages. And I’m going to make you mine.” He lowers his lips to mine, caressing them into a passionate kiss as he guides my body toward his bed.

Chapter Thirteen

M
y fingers trace the
smooth gold of my necklace. It’s coiled in the pocket of my tunic, hidden from the many servants, council members, and guardians occupying the palace.

As I caress its sleek surface, a small smile forms on my lips, the memories of this morning flitting through my mind. How Xarion delicately guided my body, knowing just where to touch to coax an intense response, rather than allowing my anxiety to control. The way my breathing ached in my chest as the pleasure seemed to become too much, my back arching, my legs trembling, and the sweet release that captured us both. It was so passionate, and he was so devoted to me, that my inexperience fled my brain. All I could taste, feel, sense was him.

It was as if our bodies were created for just that purpose; to come together.

I bite my lip, trying to conceal the bright smile taking over my face. My thoughts haven’t left our morning together all day, and I desperately need to focus on serious matters. But as I attempt this, I spot Xarion seated at the council table, his head lowered over a parchment. Only his eyes continuously peek up at me, and I have to look away, knowing we’ll expose our secret if we continue this game.

The gravity of our actions bears down on me, and I plant a stoic expression on my face, straightening my posture into a dignified guardian stance.

But in his bed chamber, when pleasure consumed us at that cresting moment, the world didn’t end. The gods didn’t rain hell and damnation upon us. And it didn’t feel wrong. I search my heart for any remnant of remorse at having broken the law, but if it’s there, it’s buried beneath the joy and love.

I wish we could have found another way—could have waited for this war with Octavian to end, and I could’ve been made human so that nothing would taint our time together. But as I once again glimpse Xarion working dutifully with his council, he glows. Not a hint of guilt mars his serene features. I won’t allow centuries of slavery and prejudice to ruin us if he won’t. I vow to be as committed and strong in the belief that we are bound together—that we were meant to be together—as he is.

“Your Highness!”

My head snaps to Habi rushing into the chamber. His bare chest heaves, gleaming with sweat. “Pharaoh,” he says, his brows pinched, blazing blue eyes wide. “The queen has returned!”

Xarion’s chair scrapes the floor as he bounds to his feet. “Where?”

Habi inhales deeply. “Cleopatra’s ship has been spotted from Pharos. She entering the breakwaters now.”

At that, every person—human and guardian—leaves behind their dealings and rushes to the terrace. I grip the railing, staring past the swaying date palms at the quinqueremes entering the royal harbor. Their sails have been lowered, their once-glossy hulls dulled and battle worn. I pinpoint the queen’s emblem on the lead ship.

My heart thunders in my chest. I don’t see Cleopatra sitting atop in the cabin.

Turning to examine Xarion’s wary expression, I feel the need to reach out to him—take his hand and comfort him. Just until we see her feet touch land. Instead, I grip the hilt of my khopesh, saying a quick prayer that our queen lives.

That she has brought back the victory.

“Octavian’s ships do not trail hers,” Habi informs us, breaking the tense silence.

“Yes,” Xarion replies. “That’s a good sign.” He turns to Habi, squares his shoulders. “Regardless, summon a legion of guardians to surround the harbor. Place another two at each gate of the city.”

Habi bows. “Yes, Pharaoh.”

Phoenix joins us on the terrace, his guardian uniform disheveled. I twist my lips closed. Lunia has been searching for him the entire day. She’s been made to look after the twins and little Delphus during Phoenix’s unannounced hiatus. Lately, his neglectful behavior is extreme. Even for him. And since the queen has returned, we must be on at all times to guard the royals. At least until we know Octavian has been defeated for good.

He sidles up beside me, a smug smile tugging his full lips. “What did I miss?” he whispers.

“Oh, only the queen’s return.” I shrug. “Nothing of importance.”

Ignoring my chiding, Phoenix lifts his head toward the harbor. “Finally.” He turns to leave.

I latch on to his solid arm. “Where are you going?’

His red eyes flare, and I lower my hand, startled. But they quickly soften, and he takes my hand. “I’m sorry. We’ve been under such strain since she went to war. Forgive me if I feel the need to immediately celebrate.” A devious smile warms his face.

Shaking my head, I laugh. “At least ask Lunia first before your gorge yourself on beer and girls.” I eye him. “She needs a rest.”

He winks. “Fine idea.” Then he’s taking off through the chamber.

When I return my gaze to the harbor, the docking servants are roping the queen’s ship. My chest loosens, and I feel Xarion’s gaze on me. I meet it with one wish crowning my heart.

That the end of the war—the end of Octavian—means we’re free to find a way to be together.

I kneel on one
knee in the throne room, anxiously awaiting the report from Cleopatra and Antonius.

Two towering golden thrones laden with jewels and ivory sit upon a dais. A statue of the goddess Isis rises from behind Cleopatra’s chair, her wings spread out over the throne, sanctioning her pharaoh’s seat of power. The goddess’s headdress bears the blood-red solar disk between two horns. Brightly colored tapestries drape the granite walls, the sea breeze causing them to flap as it cools the many gathered bodies. Sweat beads along my brow, runs down my back.

Once the queen and her husband were given time to rest from their journey, the dynamic couple called a debriefing meeting. Xarion has personally tended to his mother and stepfather since they entered the palace. I’ve waited patiently to hear the details of Actium, knowing Xarion has gotten them firsthand. I need to see his face to discern what the outcome is. Whether or not the war has ended.

My nerves wage their own battle as I fight to stay in my Kythan form when the queen and Antonius enter.

The room falls silent. Even the air is calm and respectful. Cleopatra elegantly glides across the dais, the sheer white fabric of her dress flowing behind her. Her smooth black hair shines from beneath her headdress, the same horn-encircled sun of Isis. Its shimmering length sways against her shoulders, reflecting the candlelight.

Iras and Charmain, Cleopatra’s handmaidens, take their place behind their queen as she’s seated. For a moment, my heart constricts. My mother was once one of the queen’s handmaidens, and I miss her presence here. But the fact the queen has not replaced my mother, keeping two guardians instead of three, lightens my
Ba
. Cleopatra loved my mother, and I agree with her sentiment: she was irreplaceable.

The queen’s dark eyes stare out over her council and guardians. Kohl rims them deeply, fanning out into a point near her temples. Her favorite piece of jewelry, the golden asp, circles her upper arm, and the bangles on her wrists clank; the only sound in the hushed room. She lifts her head high, as if she’s not just returned from a grueling battle.