Dark Fates (A Paranormal Anthology)(31)

He inhaled, and his nostrils flared. “You smell like honey. So sweet.”

She put a hand to his chest though he did no more than speak. “Sweet,” she repeated and had to clear her throat around a ball of arousal. “I’ve never been called that before.”

“Never?” His gaze burned into her, and it took all she had to keep her hand between them.

“I…no. Never.” She drew in a deep breath then let it out. “What the hell’s happening? Who are you really? Why am I here?” He was her lover? Her heart? None of it made any sense.

He sighed and levered himself off her to sit next to her on the bed. She sat up with him, doing her best to pull her sleep shirt down as far as it could go. Her lack of a bra and damp thong—thanks a lot, Tariq—gave her much less cover than she liked. Not that he seemed to mind, since his gaze continued to linger on her breasts and exposed thighs. His erection had yet to go down as well. And stupid Eden had her own hard time looking away from that.

He raised his gaze to her face and sighed. “I am Tariq, one of Anubis’s Elite—his personal guard, of which there are six.”

She frowned. “Anubis?” That sounded familiar.

“Guardian of the Scales, He Who Weighs Souls.”

“Not ringing a bell.” At his look, she clarified, “I still don’t know him.”

“He’s often been depicted as an Egyptian deity with the head of a jackal and the body of a man. At the time of a soul’s death, Anubis weighs its heart, and that weight decides where the soul will go for eternity.”

She blinked, recalling ancient history lessons from school. “You mean Anubis the god? As in, mythology?”

“Not a myth. Anubis is real. He is my god, and I am his humble servant.”

She stared at him. “Not much seems humble about you, big guy.” And yeah, he was big all over. The slutty side of Eden wanted to measure him with her tongue. Which made little sense. She’d never had all that much of a sex drive. Not with her strange sleep habits and tendency to see things other people couldn’t. She could never be honest with her partners, and casual one-night stands had never appealed to her.

She’d thought she had a low sex drive, which didn’t explain why she kept wanting to ride Tariq like her own pet pony.

“Why do you look at me in such a way?” He stroked the racing pulse at the base of her throat.

Just his touch sent her lust into the stratosphere.

She moved back on the bed to put more space between them. A mistake, because it inched up her already short sleep shirt. “So, ah, this Anubis…”

Tariq watched her with the eyes of a hawk.

“You believe in an Egyptian god. Right. But I don’t. I’m not all that religious, honestly. So why am I here?”

His eyes narrowed on her face. “You are here because you have the vial. Something Set wants badly.”

“Who? What vial? What are you talking about?” Genuinely confused, she wanted only to understand. And maybe have Tariq take off his shirt and get comfy while he explained everything. Stop it, slutty Eden!

Tariq rubbed his eyes. “I am here, with the rest of the Elite, to participate in Ludos Deorum—the Games of the Gods. My god, along with many others, competes to win rounds. Then we come together at the end to see which pantheon shall have reining status as supreme over the others for however many centuries or millennia until the next games. Eternity can be trying, and this competition keeps them from going after one another and possibly destroying this world.”

Destroying the world. Riiight. She stared at him. Too bad he was a few Froot Loops short of a bowl. With a body and face like that, it was almost a crime not to try him on for size. Eden had a thing about staying away from loony people. Definitely past time to go.

He grabbed her arm before she could scoot off the bed and run for help.

“You have seen my men fighting with the Greeks. Centaurs, followers of Ares.” His eyes narrowed on her. “Hasani’s tricks did not work on you. I see the truth in your eyes.”

She wanted to look away but couldn’t.

“Tell me why I know you,” he ordered. “Why Set wants you, and where the vial is. I will help you. I swear on my life I will do my best to protect you.”

He sounded sincere—as much as he sounded kooky.

“Um, right. This vial. I’m not sure what you mean. I told you before, my perfumes are—”

“The Elixir of Life, he called it.” Tariq stroked her arm where he held her, and she felt herself trembling from a bad case of misplaced affection, desire, and a need to touch him right back. So not normal. “Set is the Lord of Chaos and Destruction. If he wants something you’ve created, he will not stop until he gets it. He can be a most punishing god.”

“Another god. Great.” An image came to her then from her dreams. She frowned. “Does this guy have scarily good looks, cold eyes, sharp teeth, and wear some really rotten smelling cologne?” She recalled the handsome yet frightening man with crystal clarity. “Crocodile teeth.”

He nodded. “He’s powerful. Very dangerous. And he wants you and what you created. The Elixir of Life.” Tariq studied her.

“I…” Dreams came to her of things that couldn’t be real. Ingredients conjured at the snap of his fingers, a drop of her blood, of his blood, a flash of lightning and storm, of death itself crawling out from the floorboards in her house. “Last night I came home, thinking about the weird fight in the street. And then I saw him, I think. Set. I lost time. There were several hours where I’d swear I was making something, a recipe recited by someone, or something.” She shook her head. “I see things sometimes. Things that aren’t real. I dream a lot, and sometimes my dreams show me…um, things.”