Ark(8)

I hated my brothers. They were the worst examples of Nephilim manhood, brutal and arrogant beasts who delighted in the misfortune of others, with the lone exception, perhaps, of my eldest brother, Kichu. I hated them, but I respected them as warriors. I often watched them fight outside the walls when armies from neighboring cities came against us. Each one of them could hew down entire phalanxes of human men, swinging their massive spears in wide swaths, crushing heads and wrecking ribs, smashing with their bronze shields and stomping with their hobnailed sandals.

Japheth’s eyes went dark and inscrutable at the mention of my brothers. “Your brothers are excellent warriors. I fought next to Kichu and Dummuzi when King Sin-Iddim brought his army from Larsa against us. On the battlefield they fight like demons from the underworld.”

To the right of us, the main temple loomed black in the moonlight; ziggurat steps rose like stairs mounting to the heavens, torches flickering in evenly spaced sconces lining the ascent to the apex of the temple. Before us, the palace walls rose up, man-tall blocks of stone stacked high and thick to keep the masses out, guards patrolling on top of the walls. We ascended the steeply sloping hill, not hurrying but strolling slowly in the silver moonlight.

I liked the feel of Japheth’s hand in mine, and wondered what it would be like to lie with him.

I had never been with a human, but many of my other handmaidens had, and I often listened to the stories they told while attending to me. I had a vision of him above me, dark hard arms beside my face, blue eyes locked on mine as we writhed together . . . I flushed at the thought, my heart beating like a fleeing hare.

I was more sober now, and the reckless determination to have him was not fading. If anything it was increasing, but sobriety brought with it a dose of reality. I still wanted him, but the consequences of doing so were bubbling up in my mind, growing stronger as we neared the palace. No, I told myself. Father would be outraged if he found me with a human, or even if he heard a rumor of it; I shuddered at the thought of what he would do Japheth.

My companion felt the shudder. “What is it, Highness?”

I couldn’t tell him my thoughts. “Nothing, it is nothing. You had better let us walk alone from here. If the gate guards see you with me, it would cause problems for both of us. Especially if they were to recognize that rune you wear.”

Japheth touched a finger to his pendant, as if remembering it was there. “Oh, this? I forget that I wear it, much of the time. It was a gift from my mother.” He tucked it underneath the collar of his tunic.

“Is she dead, your mother?”

“No, but I haven’t seen her in many years, mainly because my relationship with my father is . . . difficult. We may believe in the same God, but we do not believe in the same way. He is a hard man, my father.”

That piqued my curiosity. “I would think he would be kind, being a follower of Elohim.”

“He would be kind to you,” Japheth said, his voice bitter. “He spends hours talking of his God, and he would try to persuade you away from the false gods. But to me, his son, he is . . . demanding. He expects me to be as devoted as he is. ‘Elohim demands our sacrifice,’ he would say to me, even as a child. Sacrifice always meant work in the fields rather than playing with my brothers. Sacrifice meant doing as Father demanded. His devotion to God takes precedence over everything, including his family.” He sighed and shook his head. “But that was a long time ago, and I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

“Oh, you might be surprised what I would be interested in.” I let my voice communicate what I could not say out loud.

It might be a risk, but I wanted this man. There was a battle raging inside me, and my prudence was burned away by the fire of his touch, the lightning in his gaze. Japheth heard it and pulled me to a stop, pressing my back against the cold stone of the palace wall. His eyes met mine, his hands resting on my waist, and he kissed me. I felt his heart beating against my breast, hard and fast, thumping like the drums of war. His kiss was tender, despite the fierce throb of his heart. I felt myself floating away, felt my hands on his muscular chest and face, felt his hands wandering from my waist downward to caress my backside, and I felt my body responding to his touch. For a delicate, wondrous moment, all I knew was his lips and our exploring hands.

A footstep scuffed in the dirt nearby, and for a moment I saw my father’s wide, scarred face in my mind, golden eyes sparking with fury. I pulled away, trembling slightly—it was only a temple prostitute scurrying back to the temple, but the moment of passion was gone.

I shook my head, “We cannot do this. My father will kill you, and he will torture you for days you before he lets you die.”

“I am not afraid of your father,” he said, leaning in again.

I pulled away, but let my hands stay on his chest. I did not want to pull away, I wanted to kiss him again, but fear of my father won out. “You should be. If you think my brothers are demons, then my father is Ninurta himself. He is evil, Japheth. He delights in causing pain to followers of Elohim . . . and I am his only daughter.”

He was insistent, smiling his contempt. “I don’t care. We’re out here and he’s in there somewhere,” he nodded at the palace, toying with a lock of my hair. “I’m not going to let you kiss me like that and then run off and hide behind your father.”

This brought a flush of anger in me. “You kissed me! And I’m not hiding behind my father. I’m trying to protect you, you fool.”