Astarte's Wrath (6 page)

Phoenix takes the chore of spreading his seed very seriously. I laugh again at him as he dips the girl low, burying his head in her neck. But even he won’t cross the boundaries.

The Kythan are forbidden to be with humans.

We are here to serve the pharaohs. And even tonight, where everyone is of equal status, the law cannot be broken.

He releases her and snakes his limber body over to me. “Come on,” he encourages. “I need to find a gaggle of Narco girls to sate my hunger.” He glances back at the dancing slave girl as she moves on to another, her hands held high, her body lit with alcohol.

“That you do.” I eye him. “Just be sober in time for the procession.”

He chuckles, and finishes off his drink. “Maybe you’ll loosen your skirts enough tonight to celebrate with me.” He hooks his finger under my sash and tugs me closer.

I bat his hand away but laugh. “There isn’t enough drink in all of Egypt for that to happen.”

Phoenix is one of the most attractive guardians. This is true. And he wouldn’t consider sleeping with me as anything other than a way to blissfully pass the time. As he does with any guardian he beds. It wouldn’t change his feelings for me, or our friendship. He’d continue to think of me as he always has. But I’m not as flighty as him, or the other citizens of Alexandria. I’ve been raised in a world where physical love is enjoyed for what it is, and nothing more. But there is something different about how I view it for myself.

Phoenix once asked me what I was waiting for. And I had to admit that I didn’t know. But that I didn’t just want to simply give myself over to another for pleasure. I want to at least care for the person, and for it to count for
something
.

Though what, I’m not sure. I’m a guardian. Relationships are rare for us. We breed in order to create more guardians to serve the pharaohs. We don’t marry and live in family units. Mothers raise children until of age: seventeen. When the Change occurs—the first shift—and we can devote our life to servitude. And as such, I only met my father once. He died in the war between Cleopatra and her brother shortly after I was born. I don’t even remember him.

Phoenix cocks his head, a smile in his illumined red eyes. “Come on,” he says.

The lamps burn bright above the crowded streets. Strings of candle-lit votives canopy the district, casting the palaces in a living, vibrant glow. Narcos kindle fire pits in the center of the feast. Boars and fish rotate slowly over the embers.

Phoenix and I move leisurely through the party, him stopping every few seconds to kiss or grope another half-dressed woman. He’s unstoppable. I decide to let him enjoy himself, and free him of my timid ways.

“I’m famished,” I say, gaining his attention from a Shythe girl. “I need to recharge after exerting myself in the battle.”

“Of course!” he shouts over the laughter and music, but his eyes stay trained on the girl in his arms. “We’ll meet up later . . . after.”

I shake my head at him again, then wander away from the circling girls, like predators flocking to his side. What I said wasn’t entirely an excuse to flee from the debauchery I know is about to follow. I haven’t eaten since before we left to face Octavian’s legion, and I am hungry. But I also want to find Lunia and head back to the palace to retrieve Xarion for the procession. And an intoxicated Phoenix won’t make a good guardian escort.

There’s a long line before the buffet. The spread displays figs and cheese with dill fronds, buttered honey bread and salt fish, and the sight and scent of roasted duck makes my mouth water. The wait looks to be too long, though. I glance toward the shore, just past it to Antirhodos. The procession will happen within the hour. Maybe Lunia is already there.

Pushing past the line, I make my way toward a tight corridor between connecting palaces. The music is a low, muffled thrum as I enter the covered archway. The fires of the feast fade away, and the chilled air engulfs me, the darkness complete.

Sparking a small dome of Charge, I light my path, and an arm captures my waist.

My back is pulled against a hard chest. Sculpted, tanned forearms press my arms to my sides, and my Charge is doused. The darkness surrounds us. “Get off!”

Trying to free myself, I instep, driving my heel into the man’s toes. He grunts. “Is that how you treat all your masters?” Xarion’s says near my ear.

I huff, and allow my Charge to die out completely. “Are you mad? What are you doing—and why are you here?”

He doesn’t release me. Instead, he holds me closer. Then begins to sway our bodies in time to the low, distant music. “I slipped out,” he says. “And I’m wearing a mask so I can enjoy the festivities before I’m made to sit on a throne all night.”

“Xarion,” I say breathlessly. “You’re hopeless.” But I laugh as he begins to move me toward the party, his legs guiding mine from behind. “Will you release me?”

“Never,” he says. “I want one last moment of freedom before I’m forced to be Pharaoh. Remember when we used to sneak wine at the feast every year?”

“Oh, yes,” I say, leaning my head against his solid chest. “I remember the queen getting quite upset with your antics.”

“Mine?” His feet stop. “What about you? I believe it was your wicked influence that convinced me to run drunk and naked through my mother’s procession.”

I laugh, remembering his bare cheeks flying past gaping nobles. We were only ten then, and things were so much simpler. We knew of many important things happening around us, but back then, everything was conquerable. We ruled the world—we owned it.

The warmth of Xarion’s arms wrapped around my waist brings me back to the now, the moment we’re in. Things are so different—changed. Not spoiled, but I see him and our world through clear eyes now. He’ll always be my friend, my confidante, but I’m his protector.

“Xarion,” I say. “I really must get you to the procession. You’re needed there more than ever with the queen at war. The people need their pharaoh.”

He groans. “When did you become so responsible?”

“When I was forced to think of . . .” I trail off, stopping myself from blurting something foolish.

His face inches closer to my cheek, the heat of his skin a live current. “What? What has turned the reckless Star so serious?” He smooths my beads aside, his soft fingers skimming my skin. Then he turns me around in his arms so I’m forced to meet his eyes through his dark mask. “Tell me.”

I swallow. “After that night, Xarion, when I was forced to realize all the dangers that could befall you. That’s when.” He rolls his eyes, as he always does when I remind him of the night he got his scar. I’m tempted to run my fingers over it. I regret allowing him to talk me into sneaking out with Lunia. To a play at the Theatre, of all things. I was so irresponsible. “I’m vowed to guard you. And I could never live with myself if anything happened to you.”

His lips press together, the slight dimples in his cheeks appear. It’s enough to make my legs tremble, and I lower my gaze from his. “No,” he says, and lifts my chin with his smooth fingertips. “You never look down. You’re every bit my equal.”

I laugh. “Don’t toy, Xarion.”

“I’m not.” His eyes are intense green pools, a turbulent ocean that rocks my stomach. “And you feel this way . . .” His head tilts to the side questioningly. “. . . because we’re the best of friends?”

“Of course.” My head snaps back. “I’m bound to serve and protect you, because of my binds. But I’d willingly guard you, regardless. Just as I would Phoenix or Lunia. Even more so because I know of the great future that is before you.”

“Of course.” A dark gray clouds his eyes before he nods. “Then you understand that I feel the same. That I’d forfeit my life if it would mean sparing yours.”

His eyes linger on my face. The pads of his fingers trace the ink along my neck. The swell of music rises around us, sinking us further into this still, suspended moment. I want to argue that his notion is ridiculous—he’s my master. But I don’t dare speak to disturb the trance he has over me.

That he’s always had over me.

“Now,” he says, and I give my head a shake, the spell breaking. The beads in my hair clank, awakening me further. Xarion lowers his hand to my waist and begins to rock us. “Indulge me in one dance before I’m forced to be practical.”

Taking a steadying breath, I push my unwanted feelings for him deeper, farther away from my consciousness. “Is this a command, master?”

A mocking scowl mars his face. “Please don’t make it have to be.”

Ignoring the pain his earlier command caused me, I nod. “Fine. Let’s go.” I take his hand and lead him toward the undulating bodies amid the feast.

“Yes! And beer, too.”

“You’re impossible,” I mutter. But my senses are slowly returning as we weave a path through the dancing crowd.

Xarion grabs a goblet and dunks it into a barrel of red drink, then guzzles. The crimson liquid runs down his chin. He chuckles, trying to wipe it away as someone knocks into him. He passes it to me, and I sigh with acceptance. I might as well enjoy the few carefree moments we have before what’s awaiting us just past the walls descends. The tangy alcohol fizzles against my lips, tingling as it slides down my throat.

The effect is immediate, and a laugh tumbles from my mouth. My head lightens. Xarion takes another gulp, and makes me as well, before he tosses the cup over his shoulder and brings me into his arms.

The drumming vibrates through my chest. The hypnotic music engulfs us, our forms swallowed among the sea of scantily-dressed bodies. We’re just two celebrating citizens—nothing to draw attention to the king of Egypt. It’s freeing. I wrap my arms around Xarion’s neck, the heat from dancing bodies clinging to me, his heat fueling my desire to be closer.

Leaning his head near my ear, Xarion says, “Did I mention how sultry you look tonight?”

My face warms. I bite down on my lip and shake my head. “Don’t tease.”

His face looks stricken. “I would never . . . and you never dress like
this
.” His eyes roam over my body, leaving a shiver in their wake. “I’m afraid to leave you for the procession. I’ll be made to do something rash, like fight some brawny Egyptian for trying to touch you.”

I slap his arm. He raises his brows. “It’s true,” he says. “I may even be forced to order you to never dress like this again. Unless I’m near.”

“How very possessive of you, master.” I shake my head, and instantly regret it when the torch lights trail against the dark night. My vision swims.

“With Sekhmet’s liquid bliss coursing through my veins, it’s all I can do to keep my hands off you.” He skims a hand down the length of my thigh. Fire ignites beneath his touch.

I can’t think straight. The shouts and laughs and music invade my head, my senses. My body sways, and I have to turn my back to Xarion, to hide the very apparent affect he’s having on me.

I know the drink is blurring his reasoning, as well. And I remind myself we’re only dancing, just like the others around us. He’s enjoying himself freely, and it means nothing. But as my eyes scan the guardians and humans, their bodies grinding against each other—their exposed skin being caressed, kissed, worshiped—my heart slams in my throat.

The feel of Xarion’s chest pressing against my back sends tendrils of heat lashing against the walls of my stomach. His hand slides across my bare midsection, the tips of his fingers just snaking beneath the rim of my sash. His other hand roams down, tugging at my skirt. It slips between my legs, grasps my inner-thigh. His thumb caresses the sensitive skin too close to my undergarment seam, and heat blazes—a deep, throbbing ache.

My breath shudders past my lips.

Then I’m spinning to face him. His stormy green eyes are desperate, mirroring the yearn panging through my body. He anchors his hips to mine. The feel of his want presses hard against me.

His head slowly dips closer to mine. My eyes half close, my vision fuzzy. The warmth of his breath steals across my lips.

He halts.

“Star!”

My name comes to me through a cloudy haze, breaking through the warmth engulfing me. “Star—there you are.”

I blink my eyes open. Lunia hovers near Xarion’s shoulder, her brows raised. “Hey, Lunia.” My voice is not slurred, I swear.

She laughs, her dark braids sway against her pale shoulders. “You’re already drunk! I knew I should have left earlier.” She glances around. “Where did that masked Greek god run off to?”

And I notice that Xarion has sneaked away. I look toward the procession starting to form near the gardens and see his cape slip between two guardians. Lunia would have recognized him, so best he left, although I hate the cold chill settling over me in the absence of his warmth.

I shrug, then take her hand. “Come on. Let’s get ready for the procession.”

Chapter Six

A
fter guzzling two full
goblets of water, my head feels clearer. I doubt I drank enough of the red drink to completely dull my senses. I’m sure Xarion’s erotic dancing had more to do with it. But I can’t believe I nearly—

What?
Nothing would have happened between us. It was only the spell of the feast cast over us. The lust-driven adrenaline of the dancing and drink fueling impulsive actions and thoughts. I’m thinking too much on it, as always.