Longing's Levant (14 page)

“I was but a boy, myself, when you came along,” the Panther said. “Not much older than Haytham is now.” He snorted. “What does a fourteen-year-old boy know about being a father?”

“You knew enough to get my mother with child,” Evann-Sin accused.

“Ah, Anbar,” the king said wistfully, and his smile was sad. “Your mother was the gentlest of creatures and as beautiful as her name was sweet.”

“I wouldn’t know,” the warrior said.

Memories of the woman-child he had loved so dearly came back to haunt King Numair. He had been there when she had brought Evann-Sin into the world, and had held her as her life’s blood drained away, the Healers unable to save her.

“She would have been just as proud of you as I am.”

Watching a single tear slide slowly down the king’s face mesmerized Evann-Sin. He stared at the crystal drop until it disappeared into a deep crease on the older man’s cheek.

“The kingdom will go to
Sha
fiq when I leave this world and we both know the boy will need your counsel at every turn. He is so tenderhearted he would make all the wrong decisions or none at all,” the king said. He shrugged. “Haytham would make a better ruler but being second-born the chances are slim he will ever hold the scepter.”

Silence reigned once more then the Panther seemed to shake himself mentally. He released a heavy breath, slapped his knees with his palms and fused his gaze with Evann-Sin’s.

“You are my son and I have never denied that. If it were possible to make you my heir, I would do so but that will never happen. As for caring more for a mere animal than I do for you that is so much shit piled on a stone. I don’t know who told you such an evil thing but it is not true.”

Holding his father’s stare, Evann-Sin felt his heart thundering in his chest. Such an admission was something he had never dreamed of hearing. He had grown up thinking the man before him refused to acknowledge him. The chip had grown to a boulder on his shoulder and had become harder to bear over the years. Now, he could feel it sliding away and the relieving of the pressure felt good.

“That’s not to say I am blasé about the welfare and safety of your steed, Riel,” the king growled, shaking a finger at his son. “Are you sure he is safe with this Tamara?”

A smile tugged at Evann-Sin’s lips. “As safe as I would be, Your…”

“Papa,” the king corrected, his head cocked to one side in admonishment.

“Majesty, I can not,” the warrior whispered. “I…”

“You are not proud to be my son?” the Panther demanded.

Evann-Sin’s eyes widened. “I am honored to be your son!”

“Honored but not proud?”

“Honored and proud!”

“Then do as I ask and call me Papa.”

Evann-Sin squirmed in the bed. Such a request was more command than appeal. It would be hard to break a thirty-five-year-old habit and it did not feel right to the warrior. He could not make himself say the word for it felt disrespectful, almost treasonous to him. His cheeks were stained crimson.

“Oh, all right,” King Numair sighed. “I’ll not make you say it but perhaps one day you will want to.”

Once more silence settled over the room. The two men glanced at one another but neither knew what else to say. At last, it was Evann-Sin who spoke.

“There is evil afoot in Kebul,” he said.

“There is always evil afoot in Kebul,” the king snorted. “Oded is an ass.”

“An ass who is in concert with Queen Lilit of Bandar.”

The wrinkles in King Numair’s forehead grew deeper as he frowned sharply. “What are those two up to together?”

“Making slaves of the rest of us,” Evann-Sin replied. “And I mean to keep them from succeeding.”

* * * * *

Queen Lilabet closed her eyes as quickly as she opened them for the room was spinning around her violently. She was lying upon a thick mattress with only a thin shift between her and the light coverlet covering her. Her hand was being tightly held in Kaibyn’s but nevertheless, she felt as though should he let go, she would go flying out the window.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“We are at the inn in Nonika,” Kaibyn answered. “I fetched the others while you slept.”

Putting a hand to her head, the queen could not remember anything past the nightmarish trip down the corridor at Kebul.

“Where is Karmaria?”

“Holding fast to the headboard of her cot in the next room. Tamara is seeing to her.”

Risking a glance at her lover, Lilabet opened her eyes though the room still spun crazily around her. “Who is Tamara?”

“She is the Akkadian’s woman,” Kaibyn answered through clenched teeth.

“You said others,” Lilabet muttered.

“There is a darkling here, as well, but he is of no consequence. He is merely a servant to the Akkadian. Do not concern yourself with him.”

The queen tried to push herself up but the vertigo was too great. She slumped back on the bed with an unladylike grunt. “By the Prophet, Kaibyn, you smell,” she told him. “What have you gotten into?”

A pained look passed over the demon’s handsome face, and he lifted his arm to sniff at his armpit. He could smell nothing different about his person. He had to make haste to find cologne of some kind to mask the stench.

“Lie quietly, Lady, and I will see to that situation,” Kaibyn replied with a grimace.

“As though I could do anything save lie quietly,” Lilabet muttered. She felt the wind of the demon’s passing but did not open her eyes.

Kaibyn came to rest in a grotto. Quickly, he shed his clothing and plunged through the placid depths of the grotto’s milky-white waters. He swam underwater for a spell then surfaced to wade over to the shallows and stand waist-deep while he used his hands to scrub vigorously at his flesh. Though he could tell no difference in his body odor when he waded out of the water, he suspected there might not be a change in his aroma. With another blink of his golden eyes, he landed in a bakery and went in search of cinnamon oil. Crinkling his nose, he splashed a copious amount of the liquid over his bare chest and arms, under his arms and over the rippled ridges of his belly and into the thick curls at the juncture of his thighs. Taking the rest of the oil with him, he flew back to the grotto, got dressed then hastened to rejoin the queen.

Lilabet turned her head as her lover materialized in the room. She inhaled the overpowering scent of cinnamon and sighed. “Much better, Kai. Much, much better.”

The demon went to her bed and sat down beside her. “No more stench?” he inquired, his forehead puckered.

“No,” she answered. “You have a most pleasant smell, my love.”

Before the lady could protest, Kaibyn shed his clothes and climbed in bed beside her, reaching out to take her into his arms. Her supple body gave instant rise to a portion of his anatomy and he hoped she would acquiesce to soothing him.

“My husband, I fear, is dead, Kai,” Lilabet whispered, snuggling close to her lover and reaching her hand down to lay her palm against his thigh.

“I am loath to tell you, Lady, but I fear Undead is more like it,” he told her.

Despite the jerky sensations of the room canting about her, the queen opened her eyes, tilted her head back and looked at Kaibyn. “What mean you
Undead
?”

Kaibyn put his hand on her head and stroked her hair. “You have heard tales of the witches of Bandar?”

“The Hell Hags?” Lilabet asked with a shiver. “Aye. What of them?”

“Their queen, Lilit, formed a pact with your husband and now the entire of Kebul is under thrall to the witches,” he explained. “I would think King Oded is as much under Lilit’s power as are the common folk.”

“For what purpose, Kai?” she asked.

“To turn the world into Lilit’s slave pen, milady.”

Lilabet’s eyes widened. “It is that far-reached, this plan of hers?”

“It will be unless I can stop her,” Kaibyn said. “Well, with some help from the coalition I have formed.”

“Oh, Kaibyn. This greatly distresses me,” the queen said. “What will I do? Where will I go? Who will take care of me? I have a child growing inside me to consider.”

Kaibyn increased his hold on the lady and dipped his head so he could press a light kiss on her cheek. “You have nothing to worry, my love,” he said. “Your safety is of the most import to me, and I would give my life to keep you safe.” He laid his hand on her belly. “I will protect the child, as well.”

“Dahkla is dead,” she said. “You were blood-sworn to her.”

Kaibyn knew what was coming and also knew it would be best if he broached the subject, making himself the leader of the situation. “I will swear to you—in blood if you require it—that I will be your protector for now and until the end of your days. If you doubt me…”

“I would have you all to myself this time, Kaibyn,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I do not want to ever share you again.”

Though he sighed inwardly, Kaibyn agreed. He wanted Tamara but for the time being she was out of his reach. Such—he thought—would not always be the case and Lilabet was in the sixth decade of her life and might not live that many more years.

From out of nowhere, an intricately carved dagger appeared, its double-edged blade thick with ancient runic lettering. The black jade handle was encrusted with blood-red rubies. Kaibyn removed his arm from beneath Lilabet’s head and sat up. Without a word, he drew the sharp edge of the blade across the flesh of his left forearm. He took Lilabet’s left palm in his hand and held it under his arm.

“I pledge in my own blood,” he said, allowing a few drops to drip into her palm. “I will be yours until the end of your days.”

“Keeping only unto me,” the queen wanted clarified.

Kaibyn winced. “Keeping only unto you until the end of your days.”

“Forsaking all others.”

“Aye,” he sighed. “Forsaking all others until the end of your days.”

Seemingly satisfied with the blood oath, Lilabet used her bloody hand to reach up for her lover’s head. She brought his mouth down to hers to seal their bargain.

Vanquishing the ceremonial dagger in his grip, Kaibyn put his energy into the kiss. He slipped his tongue between the queen’s lips and probed deeply. He claimed her breast, kneading the fullness beneath the thin shift. The pad of his thumb flicked over the swollen nipple and worked it to a hard little nub then scraped the tender flesh with his thumbnail.

Lilabet groaned as her lover bit her lower lip lightly. His hot tongue slid over her upper lip before delving quickly into her mouth then away.

“Kaibyn!” she protested, but before she could bid him continue kissing her, his mouth dragged down her neck and that wicked tongue of his stabbed at the hollow of her throat. She threaded her fingers through his thick hair and held his mouth to her neck, reveling in the feel of his tongue’s wet heat.

Kaibyn was an expert in the seduction of women. He knew every nuance of lovemaking and spent hours on foreplay that would elevate a female from total disinterest in the sexual act to complete, unbridled abandon. His mouth, his hands, the mighty tool between his legs had been trained to give ultimate pleasure. He wielded that power like any artist and set about to bring Lilabet to the heights of uncontrollable pleasure.

The queen did not protest when her shift was ripped from her aching body. Already a thin sheen of moisture clung to her flesh and her love nest was slick. She hated how her distended belly must look and crossed her arms over it.

“Nay, Sweeting,” Kaibyn whispered. “Every inch of you is as lovely as a spring morn.” He lowered his head and placed a light kiss on the protrusion of her navel, circling it with his tongue.

The demon had made love to many pregnant women over the years, and he had taken superb care to see they were thoroughly satiated when he was through. His hands would be infinitely gentle, his mouth hotly effective. Through no fault of his would he ever leave a lady wanting.

Sliding his hand down Lilabet’s quivering thigh, he rested the palm gently against the core of her. He smiled, capturing her eyes with his and he tenderly rubbed the dampness.

“I crave you, Kaibyn,” the queen said in a husky voice.

“And I will not leave you in need, milady.”

He pulled his hand upward until the tip of his middle finger touched the pearl of her love mound. Lightly he stroked the dewy pebble with long upward pulls that went from the base of her opening to the hood, easing back that tiny wrinkle of flesh in order to heighten the sensation.

Lilabet reached above her and took hold of the brass swirls of the headboard. She bit her lip, closing her eyes to the exquisite feelings flooding her lower belly. She squirmed on the bed and at his nudging, opened her thighs a little more.

“So lovely,” he said as he moved lower on the bed until his cheek was pressed against the curve of her hip. “Such an exciting aroma coming from your sex.”

The queen felt a tremor go through her and her womb tightened at his words. She could feel her vagina oozing love juice and wished her lover would taste her.

Intercepting the thought, Kaibyn dipped his finger gently into her slit and swirled it ever so softly inside her, smiling as Lilabet arched her hips upward. Looking up at her, once more holding her gaze, he removed his finger and placed it in his mouth, sucking the slick fluid from his flesh. He drew on the digit then took it from his mouth and held it under his nose. He inhaled deeply.