Broken Heart 09 Only Lycans Need Apply(51)

“What did you see this time?” he asked.

“Nothing sexual. Disappointed?”

His lips split into a quicksilver grin. “Immensely.”

I managed a laugh and then I told him about the strange room, the people, and the information I’d learned about Larsa, Shamhat, and Amahté.

He nodded. “Yes. It was revealed not so long ago that the eighth family line still existed. And Larsa was alive. But how does that vision fit in with the others?”

“To know the beginning,” I said. “So, Jessica and Patrick were the beginning of what became Broken Heart. Patsy and Gabriel were the beginning of a new kind of leadership. And knowing what happened to Shamhat and Amahté is the beginning of . . . well, this. Why we’re here right now.”

“What are we supposed to do with the information?”

I liked that he’d used a pronoun: “we.” I think I liked being part of a “we.” It was nice. I looked over my shoulder at the doorway that had been revealed. That last round of blood sacrifice had been intense. “Hey, it’s not a hallway. Do you think we’ve reached our destination?”

Fat chance, I knew, since my apparent death was part of this gig. Still . . . who was to know anything for sure?

“Let us find out.” Drake popped up and reached down a hand, which I grasped.

I wobbled to my feet, took a breath, and turned. We stared at the room beyond, and then looked at each other.

Torches rimmed the small room. The only object in it was . . . well, a bed. Right in the middle. The smooth, flat stone was covered in a pile of silky furs—which shouldn’t look comfortable or like they’d just been fluffed by servants of the palace. And yet it looked as though it had just been made up, and was waiting for us to . . . what? Take a nap?

We walked to the bed and studied it. On each corner was a small statue of Bastet, who was part cat, part woman. In her clasped paws were sticks of incense. Their fragrance wafted into the air.

“We should look for glyphs,” I said. But I had a feeling already of what would be expected of me. Well, of us. “Do you think they sent us here on purpose? I mean, male and female? Would anyone know . . . um, to do that?”

Drake sent me a strange look. “What do you mean?”

“That’s a bed,” I said, pointing to the item, “and those effigies are of Bastet. The goddess of sensuality, sexuality, and fertility.”

Drake moved over to study one of the statues. “I see.”

I walked to the nearest wall, then took a circuit of the room. Hmm. Nothing but smooth stone and the magical blue-flamed torches. No hieroglyphs. No paintings. No clues.

“Moira.”

Drake had crouched down to view something on the edge of the bed. I joined him, and looked at the series of glyphs inscribed there. And it confirmed my suspicion about what was supposed to happen next.

“‘To know the beginning, is to become the beginning,’” I said. I studied the other images, and hesitated.

“That is all it says?”

“No.” I glanced at him. “This next part isn’t a blood sacrifice. If we want to progress, we have to invoke the magic of Bastet.”

Realization dawned in Drake’s gaze. “You mean we must unlock the next doorway . . . by having sex.”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

We both stood up, then because I was still feeling unsteady, I sat on the edge of the bed. The furs felt unexpectedly nice. I couldn’t help but wonder now if the reason the pyramid closed behind Drake was because of this part. Or was it the magic? Had this all been created because of the whole emphasis on love and mates? And wouldn’t that make sense given what we now knew about Shamhat and Amahté? Because, hell, anyone could’ve accessed this chamber. Two girls. Two guys. Two goats. Okay. Maybe not goats. But still.

“Shamhat and Amahté have never known modern times,” said Drake. “Whoever created this”—he waved his hand to indicate the pyramid—“did so during a time when the world was different.”

“I’ve studied the lives, the religious practices, the deities of ancient Egypt,” I said. “Believe me, I know quite a bit about the sexual mores of Ancient Egypt. It makes sense that they might have something like a sex rite to unlock the power of the god. Or to wake up two very tired bloodsuckers.”

Drake gave a short laugh, and then he joined me on the bed. He pushed a lock of hair away from my face, and then grasped my chin, his thumb resting on my upper lip. Butterflies fluttered in my belly.

“Ah, my beauty,” he said in that smoky voice. “Shall we?”





Chapter 19