Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races #3)(41)

Rational thought vaporized in an internal nuclear explosion. What was left was a murderous beast. Claws sprang out. The gravelly roar that burst out of his chest split the night with the force of a rocket launcher.

The beast leaped. With a single swipe of his paw, he nearly split the man into four pieces. The whip fell discarded. The man was dead before he hit the floor.

The killing had happened too soon to assuage the beast’s rage. He roared again, scooped up the corpse and flung it. Blood sprayed through the air. The corpse hit the wall. Bones cracked audibly upon impact. The broken body left a wet smear of crimson as it slid down along the wall.

Utter stillness filled the night. Even the bullfrogs and night insects fell silent in the presence of an apex predator. It seemed the whole world held its breath.

Except for the whimpering gasps at the feet of the beast.

He looked down, breathing hard. The girl child cowered into the floor, digging at it with the nails of both hands as if she would tear the stones open and disappear if she could. She wore the shreds of some filmy garment, along with a necklace made of copper and lapis lazuli, and bracelets of carved bone. Her delicate rib cage shuddered, the skin of her back torn and bleeding.

Whimper-gasp.

The beast became Rune again. “Poor baby,” he whispered. He bent down to touch her shoulder.

She cried out and cringed, and his beast resurfaced just enough to claw at him from the inside. He came around to kneel at her head. She was older than the seven-year-old he had met, but not by much, maybe by five or six years. Her emerging beauty had been carefully emphasized, those long eyes lined in kohl and green malachite, and her shapely mouth painted with red ochre. The malachite and kohl streaked her tear-stained face, and the red paint was smeared. Underneath the extravagant wreckage of color, the normal honeyed warmth of her skin was pallid with shock.

His stomach roiled. It did no good to tell himself that this was a much more primitive time and that girls were often married by the time they were twelve. She still looked like the victim of child  p**n . For a few scorching moments his sanity slipped. He did not know what he would have done if the smell of sex had been in the room.

She was in too much of a panic. At a loss, he hesitated then he did the only thing he could think of to do. He lay down on his stomach beside her and put his head on the floor, face toward her, so he was down at her level. Then he began to talk in a quiet, soothing patter of noise.

“Khepri, my name is Rune. We met once a few years ago. Do you remember me? I remember you very well. I was flying overhead when I saw you watching me, so I came down to talk to you. You had been working to harvest grain from the field.”

Did the blind panic in her young face ease just a little, or was that his imagination? Her shaking lips struggled to form a word. She whispered, “A-Atum.”

Rune’s eyes grew damp. “Yes,” he murmured as softly as he could. “You thought I was Atum, and I told you I wasn’t. Do you remember that?”

Her overbright gaze focused on him. She gave him a jerky nod.

Dimly he was aware of other people running into the room. The beast was still roused and tracked their movements with cold precision. If they had come an inch too close, they would have died, but they stopped at the edge of the room. After exclaiming to each other, they prostrated themselves on the floor.

That was well enough. To them he was, after all, a god, and this time he did not try to deny it.

He smiled at Khepri. “Please, darling, don’t be afraid of me. The man who was hurting you can’t hurt you any longer.”

She lifted her head. Her gaze tracked left toward the shredded corpse that lay in a crumpled heap by the wall. He shifted to hold his hand as a shield between her and the sight, not quite touching her cheek. She whispered, “Is he dead?”

This was no modern sheltered child. He knew she had already seen death before. He said, “Yes. He injured you. It made me very angry, and I killed him.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. Ferocity flashed in her eyes. For a moment she looked as feral as a tiger cub. “Good.”

Just like that, he fell head over heels in love with the child all over again. “May I help you now?”

The spark of ferocity vanished. Her lips trembled and her eyes swam with tears as she nodded again.

At that the beast threatened to take over again. He rose up on his hands and knees, and gathered her carefully in his arms, working to make sure he didn’t touch the wounds on her back. He carried her over to the bedding and eased her onto it so that she was lying facedown. Then he looked at the humans who remained prostrate before him. There were four, a woman, two men with spears, and another, older man. Judging by the ornamentation of his clothing, the older man was the most powerful of those present.

Rune restrained the urge to kick them. He said, “Get up.”

The humans peered at him, saw that he was talking to them and cautiously eased upright. They remained on their knees and stole glances at the bloody corpse and at each other. He said to the older man. “I want hot water, medicine and bandages, along with something clean for her to wear. Be quick.”

“Yes, my lord.” The man hissed at the woman, who backed out of the room. A moment later, Rune heard her running footsteps on the stairs.

He settled beside Khepri. She moved her head closer to put her cheek against his knee, and he stroked her hair as he struggled with his self-control. He said to her, “Beer would help with the pain. Would you like some?”