Protector of the Flame (26 page)

“Come and try.” He egged her on with both hands.

Eyes drilled into her forehead. When she looked up, Neith glared and shook her head. Serenity had forgotten she was there.

Cyrus came out of the kitchen, carrying a golden cake in each hand. He put one down at the table next to them and the other on theirs. “I give you a flourless, eggless honey torte.”

He sat and handed her a platter of roasted vegetables.

“I thought you couldn’t eat now.”

“I took care of it,” he said in the strong, smooth style she was accustomed to. Cyrus had a knack for handling people to get what he wanted. “Don’t eat the soup,” he whispered.

“Why not?”

“You don’t want to know.”

She reached for the bread, but he grabbed her hand, kissed her fingers, and with a subtle movement barely shook his head. Uncertain what was edible, she only took items he handed her or put on his own plate.

As Neith put a piece of bread in her mouth, Serenity said, “
Bon appétit
.”

The ancient beauty nearly choked on it.

Cyrus poured two mugs of wine and they toasted.

Face twisted in an expression of revulsion, Neith threw the bread on her plate and picked up her spoon. She tasted the soup and gagged.

Sothis glided in, dutiful warriors under her training trailed behind, including the ones Serenity had reassigned. In a loose formation, they resembled a dark blue arrow with a sharp turquoise tip.

“How lovely. More disciples to worship your mother.” Neith pushed her plate and bowl away. She stood and walked to the center of the dining circle. “Today, our Blessed sister Serenity would like to honor the day of her mother’s birth. In celebration of Sothis, we will have honey cakes. Try to enjoy your meal, but I recommend avoiding the soup and bread.”

Neith returned to her seat. “Cyrus, do you plan to eat any cake?”

Smart to ask rather than risk another unsavory bite.

“Yes, the cake is edible.”

A line of golden cakes flowed from the kitchen. Nikos and another woman brought cakes to Sothis’s table, but she refused them with a slashing wave of her hand.

Serenity’s entire body sagged. There was no limit to her mother’s rejection.

Nikos approached Neith with the cakes.

“What reason did she give for not accepting them?” Neith asked.

“None,” Nikos said, bewildered.

“Tell her it is an insult to refuse them, even if she doesn’t find herself worthy of such lavish attention.”

Nikos returned to the table and delivered the message. When they placed the cakes on the table, Sothis rose, bowed to her warriors and left.

Holding her breath, Serenity watched her mother exit the dining hall.

Cyrus leaned in and said in her ear, “Don’t take it to heart. She cares for you or she wouldn’t have brought you here. Remember that.”

She put down her cup and ran after her.

Just as Sothis reached the walkway, Serenity caught her. “We used to celebrate birthdays with a cake and singing and presents. I thought you’d like it.”

“Humans celebrate birthdays. It was wrong for us to teach you such a silly custom.”

“We liked it. You liked it. I remember.”

Sothis turned on her heels and grasped the railing. “I no longer celebrate birthdays and I won’t be dictated to on this matter by you or Neith.”

“I thought it’d make you happy to remember the good times.” She glanced down for a breath and then back at her mother’s stone face. She wanted so much more from Sothis, but at the very least needed to connect, to feel a mother-daughter bond in some small way. The harder she tried, the more distance she seemed to create. “Would it be better if I stayed away from you?”

Silence stretched and the growing distance between them threatened to splinter her heart.

Knuckles whitening, Sothis said, “Yes.”

The word was a blade to the gut. “Fine.” Serenity spun to stalk back to the dining hall. “Happy birthday.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Serenity pushed back the sheet, turning to get out of bed, but Cyrus hauled her back to him.

“If you don’t stop, we’ll never get out of this room.”

“You’re too irresistible,” he said, still winded from their early morning lovemaking. He licked her neck. “One more time. I need to feel you again.”

She wiped the sweat from his brow. “We’re already late. We’ll have to hurry to catch breakfast and your laundry detail probably started by now.”

“Don’t remind me.”

She darted to the miniscule bathroom off the bedroom, consisting of a sink and toilet, threw on clothes and grabbed her toiletries.

“Did I tell you they don’t use machines?” Disbelief at the archaic practice resonated in his voice. “Caelius said they have an antiquated system using vats of boiling water that we have to stir.”

“You told me. Five times.” She went to the bed and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

“Shower without me. I’m going back to sleep.”

“There’s no time.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Of course, you kept me up all night.” She yanked the sheet down. “I know these duties are beneath you, but Neith could make life unpleasant for us if you don’t play along.”

“Wake me when you get back.”

“Don’t you want to shower?”

He reached out, grabbing her by the hips and pulled her down on top of him. “I want to smell you on me all day.”

She laughed and stood, collecting her strewn toiletries.

“Besides, what’s the point when I’m going to sweat like a pig down in the laundry hut?”

Shaking her head, she rushed to the showers. Waiting so late in the morning meant the sun was high enough to cast too much light for her to be comfortable. She washed quickly, changed her clothes and raced to the dining hall.

The kitchen detail came out to clear food just as she arrived. She grabbed a bowl of Yaki and a couple of bananas, and hoped Cyrus was dressed.

Turning the corner of the walkway on the second floor, she ran into the laundry detail. They had bamboo carts of fresh clothes and linen. Rows of empty sacks were lined up in front of each sector, waiting to be filled with dirty laundry. The team leader stared at her with pursed lips, but didn’t say anything.

“Cyrus isn’t feeling well this morning, but he’ll be out in a few minutes.”

When she opened the door to their room, the smell of sex and sweat hit her. She threw open the bamboo shutters to let in fresh air and light. Cyrus didn’t stir.

“Wake up.”

Yawning, he opened his eyes.

She ate a little Yaki, wanting to gag over the horrid flavor, then handed him the bowl. “I know it’s awful, but it’ll keep you full and you have a strenuous day ahead.”

He sat up and tolerated the porridge with a grimace.

Thrown completely out of his element, Cyrus wasn’t handling the situation well.

She tossed both bananas on the pillow, grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the dresser, poured a cup of water and handed everything to him. “Get dressed. They’re waiting for you in the main hall.”

As she headed out the door, she watched him pull on his pants and top.

She ascended the walkway up to the library and braced herself for Neith’s displeasure.

Passing the computer terminals, Serenity made eye contact with Adriel. She longed to sit beside him for more light days of reading as he found ways to distract her to the point of laughter.

Now she was chained to Neith’s side until dinner. Over the last week, they’d barely been able to have a conversation.

He pointed down at the pretend watch on his wrist and wagged a finger. “Bad girl,” he mouthed, a devilish grin lighting his face.

She stifled a giggle and turned into the office.

Fanning herself with the peacock feather, Neith eyed her impatiently. “You are tardy.”

“Cyrus starts the laundry detail this morning.” She sat in one of the chairs. “Coddling takes extra time and you did encourage me to hone my skills.”

Neith narrowed her eyes and stood. “There’s a problem in the bamboo fields. We shall go attend to it.”

“I’d like to stay here.” Neith eyed her. “I’m having a hard time with my sketches. You spend so much time in the office. If I could soak it in without you present, it might help me see you more clearly.”

Silence as Neith deliberated, astute gaze taking everything in. “Very well.” She dropped the feather and turned, her ivory gown barely rustling as she left.

Walking to the open air outlet, Serenity skimmed the knees of the lion-headed statue, cold, smooth marble against her fingers. She leaned against the railing. The bamboo fields were on the other side of the island, at least a thirty-minute trek.

She took a deep breath, enjoying the start of a beautiful day. Tapping her fingers against the railing, she waited. Once Neith left the building headed for the garden, Serenity set her sights on the wingback chair. It was softer than she imagined as she sank into the cushion and swiveled three hundred and sixty degrees. With a view of the historians, the office and an expansive part of the island, simply sitting in the chair made her feel more powerful.

She twisted to face a large painting of nymphs at play and deer running through a field. Hunters with swords, lances and bows and arrows, hid behind various trees. Disinterested in the painting, she wondered about the combination of the safe behind it that kept her sketchpad hidden from prying eyes—Adriel’s eyes.

In an effort to mitigate unnecessary, heated interaction between her and Adriel, the ancient one thought it best to lock the drawings up at night. She should’ve asked for the pad, but more sketching wouldn’t get her closer to seeing the real Neith. Reading the souls of humans and creating custom tattoos had been easy. Drawing a portrait of the oldest living Kindred was in an entirely different league.

“Planning a coup?” Adriel asked from behind the chair.

She tilted her head back and peered into his spirited amber eyes. “No, just trying to get into Neith’s head so I can finally get a sketch right.” She turned to face him.

He bent toward her and grabbed the arms of the chair. “Careful, once you’re in, there’s no way out.”

How she’d missed his humor and the playfulness of his soul.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled, taking a deep whiff of her hair, neck and shoulders. He met her gaze. “You smell divine.”

“It’s the rose soap.”

He stood upright and sent her chair spinning. “No—it’s not.”

Coming back to her original position, she watched Adriel push the office door shut.

He meandered to the open air outlet and gestured for her to join him. Leaning against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, fingers interlaced, he waited.

A curious energy stirred around him, so unlike the carefree, fun-loving, simple charm he normally exuded. She went to him, the sharp change in his bearing piquing her interest. His demeanor, calm, resolute—whispering of sex—made the fine hair on her arms stand up. And the hungry look in his eyes sent a flutter through her core.

Facing him, she rested a shoulder against the wall. He rolled in front of her, guiding her without a single touch until her back was flat against the wall.

He leaned in, palms pressed on either side of her arms. “I have a proposition.”

Biting her lip, she couldn’t tear her gaze from his lovely face. He could’ve gotten many a human women out of their panties with those divine looks.

“I promise never to sneak a glance at any unfinished drawing or painting again.”

“My sketchpad is locked up. I see no need to negotiate.”

He gave a husky, masculine chuckle. “Neith’s safe isn’t large enough to hold canvas.” He shot a glance at her easel and canvas frames.

“What do you want?”

“Two minutes of your time,” he whispered, daring to draw even closer.

The small, secret place he had carved in her heart with his deceptive
ingenium
demanded she give what he asked. The deal merely eased compliance. “Done.”

“Not so fast. There are conditions.”

Not fully understanding, she grinned, anxious to hear his terms.

“Close your eyes and stand still for two minutes.”

Warning skated across her skin. Then his lips curved in playful sweetness, setting her strangely at ease, too at ease.

Too many possibilities raced through her mind. She shook her head, rejecting the offer. The dancing fire in his eyes dimmed, the joy in his face smothered. Something in her chest wrenched hard. Regret bit so deep she nearly reconsidered. She shifted her gaze from him before her strength to resist eroded.

“I won’t touch you.”

Sweet mint breath caressed her mouth. She stared at the floor, knees shaking, heart melting.

“I swear it.”

The ache to appease him coiled tight.

“Cyrus has you for eternity.”

When she met his gaze, the entreaty in his eyes sent indecision rattling through her like a shockwave.