Dragon Soul(37)

"No," he repeated, and having discovered the hooks and eyes that closed  the skirt, undid them until the skirt was loose. He stood up, pulling  her up with him, causing the skirt to slide down her hips to the floor  with a leathery whoosh. "Another time you may work your lusts upon my  nipple nubs, but right now, I must do this."

"That's just selfish, hogging all the nipple-based pleasure-giving fun-"  Sophea started to protest, but he stopped her by kissing her soundly.

"Let me do this," he said softly, giving in to temptation and nibbling  on her adorable earlobe. "I can't explain why I have to, but I feel like  I must or I'll explode."

Her entire stance softened, her head turning so that her lips brushed  his as she melted against him. "I'm sorry. I forgot that you were just  bopped on the head with dragon emotions. We are such kick-ass people, of  course you feel things stronger than you did before. And I would very  much like you to make love to me."

"Another time," he promised as he stripped her of her underwear before  hurriedly removing his own clothing, "another time I will allow you to  lead. But right now …  mmrf." The last word was garbled when he buried his  face in her belly.

She giggled and simultaneously sucked in her breath. He looked down at  the incredible sight of her lying beneath him, her eyes shining with a  light that beckoned to him, her body so perfectly made to fit his, he  couldn't imagine ever considering any other woman. But something wasn't  quite right, some urge was riding him hard, making him want something …   more.         

     



 

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and to the end of my  days, I will thank whatever gods were responsible for sending you to  me," he said, bending down to press a kiss to her sweet lips.

She sighed. "That is the nicest thing that anyone has-eep!"

Without warning, he flipped her over onto her belly, that delectable,  soft, enticing belly, and spread her legs enough to settle between them.

"Don't ask questions," he said, pulling her hips up while sliding a  finger into her heated depths. She was, thankfully, ready to receive his  attentions, which was good since he didn't think he'd be able to last  another second. "I don't know why I have to do this, but I do."

"Well, it's a little different, but I don't suppose it's-goodness  gracious, great balls of fire!" She almost sang the last part of that  sentence when he slid into her with one powerful thrust of his hips.  "That is …  wow, that's …  oh yes, do that move to the left again."

He moved to the left, and then to the right, and then just because he  was a man who believed in covering all the bases, upward and downward as  well. As he bent to kiss the back of her neck, intending on trying a  few diagonal moves that he hoped would have her squealing with joy, an  urge came to him, overpowering him, driving him harder and deeper into  her, the pressure building inside until he swirled his tongue on the  back of her neck, and breathed fire.

Sophea was already moaning and thrashing around beneath him, but when  the fire bathed them both, her muscles tightened around him, and she  yelled something incomprehensible into the pillow. He gave in to his own  orgasm, his body feeling as if he'd been filled with liquid gold that  was lighting him up from within and pouring out into her.

"Okay," she said some minutes later. He was frankly surprised to hear  her speak, simply because he was amazed he hadn't succumbed to the  perfect ecstasy of the moment. He opened an eye to find himself lying on  his back, Sophea's hair brushing his chin, her hand gently caressing  his chest. "That was incredibly fabulous. Seriously incredibly fabulous.  I wasn't sure when you flipped me over like that, because for a minute,  I thought you were heading for the wrong door, but then when you made  those little swiveling moves, and then that whole fire thing …  wow. Just  wow. You can do that any time you like." She tipped her head back to  bite his chin, but before she could do so, she winced, and reached a  hand to the back of her neck. "What the … ?"

"Oh, that." He felt an odd mixture of pride and guilt. "I'm sorry about  that. I'm afraid I was so caught up in the moment that I breathed fire  on you."

"It hurts a little," she said, rubbing at the spot. "The fire didn't do that before."

"Maybe it's because it was my fire, and I'm not in control of it yet,"  he said, sitting up to look at her neck, hoping he hadn't seriously  injured her. To his amazement when he lifted her hair, he beheld an odd  marking.

"Well?" she asked, turning her head when he just stared. "Did it  blister? Is it gross? Should I see a doctor? It's not that hurty, just a  little stinging, like a sunburn."

"It's …  I appear to have …  I'm not sure how it happened, but evidently I …  for lack of better word, marked you."

"Marked me how?"

He made a vague gesture. "To be honest, it looks like a henna tattoo. Only this one looks to be crossed swords over a circle."

"Great. Now I have a weird sword thing on my neck." She rubbed at it a  little more then lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling. "What are  we going to do, Rowan?"

"About your neck? I could ask the captain if there is a doctor on board-"

"No, about this." She waved a hand vaguely. "Us. The dragon people. Mrs.  P. The whole world evidently trembling on the verge of destruction if  you don't take a ring from an old lady who needs it to get to her  long-lost love? What are we going to do?"

He lay back and pulled her into his side, reveling in the sensation of  her snuggling into him, her body warm and soft and infinitely  comforting. "I don't know, love, I don't know. But we'll figure  something out. We have to."

She said nothing to that, but he knew she was worried.

Not as worried as he was, though. Because now there was more at stake  than just making his sister happy, and incidentally saving the mortal  world from a demon lord.

Now there was Sophea.





Thirteen


         

     



 

"So, let me see if I have this straight in my brain: Duat isn't just the name of the cruise line, it's also a place."

"Yes, that's right." Gilukhipa (who I learned was called Gilly), lay  stretched out on a lounge chair next to the small pool on the upper deck  of the ship. We were both in the shade, the morning sun being a lot  stronger than what I was used to in northern California, and on my other  side, Mrs. P lay on an identical lounge, rubbing lotion onto her bare  legs. Scattered around and in the pool, the other ladies either  sunbathed, swam, or sucked back fruity beverages of an alcoholic nature.

"And it's the Egyptian Underworld, this Duat place?" I asked, wondering  why I wasn't surprised to find out that there were such things as  cruises to Hell. Then again, in the last few days, I'd discovered I was a  kick-ass dragon's mate, had witnessed a perfectly normal man turn into a  dragon, and met an actual god. A little cruise into the Underworld was  nothing after all that.

"It is. People's Ba and Ka travel through it, you see."

"Ba and Ka? That's …  what?"

"The Ka is the soul," Mrs. P answered suddenly, causing me to skew  around in my own lounge chair and look at her. I frowned. There was  something different about her. Something else different than the night  before.

"And the Ba is the physical form that houses the Ka," Gilly said,  nodding. "You must have both to travel through Duat and reach paradise.  That's why those ancient mortal Egyptians mummified bodies-it was their  way of preserving the Ba so it could meet up with the Ka, and be put  back together in the divine realm."

"Did you get a wig with your costume?" I asked Mrs. P, still trying to  pinpoint what it was that was different. Earlier this morning, we'd  dropped our clothing off at the ship's tiny cleaning service, then  trooped into the shop and come away with a cowgirl outfit for Mrs. P and  a female swashbuckling ensemble for me (which had a gorgeous black  frock coat with metal fastenings at the front, red sash, white lace at  the wrists, and a short above-knee lace skirt). But it was the tricorne  hat and cutlass that sold me on it. The other ladies declined getting  costumes, but did give the shop lady a run for her money on sunscreen.

Mrs. P touched her hair, which was gathered into a low bun. Her hair  when I first met her was short, white, and floofy …  now it was a pale  brown with threads of silver, and probably down to her shoulder blades.  Her eyes also seemed different. They were still a soft blue, but the  outer rings of her irises were darker, the color of which appeared to be  leeching inward. And then there was the fact that she seemed to have  lost even more wrinkles on her neck and face.