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Authors: Seressia Glass
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emotional release. She wanted...so many things, things it didn’t seem she was destined to have. It made her angry even as it tore her up inside. It hurt her to her soul that loving Hector wasn’t enough.
Fresh tears stung her eyes. Yes, she loved Hector. As she’d told Markus, care was too mild a word for what she felt for him. She wanted to heal Hector. Wanted to ease his burden and lighten his soul. But once she told him the truth of her bloodline, she knew he wouldn’t let her.
Hector had to heal himself, had to want to heal himself. If he didn’t want her, so be it. Falling in love wasn’t part of her plan when she’d moved to the jackal compound. Finding a way to stop Amansuanan was. Now that she had the means, she would finish the task she’d set herself. What happened after that was in the gods’ hands.
Chapter Seven
He shouldn’t have come.
Hector stood outside the door to Rana’s chamber, torn. The windowless chamber had belonged to Markus before he met the Anput Tia, the Daughter of Isis who was now represented the female incarnation of Anubis for the clan, who had stood beside their leader and grieved with the people as they performed the funerary rites for Peter. Rana could have chosen one of the suites of rooms on the community house’s upper level, but had chosen to stay close to the infirmary in case someone needed her.
Like he needed her.
Hector closed his eyes, pressing his palm against the door. He’d been harsh to her earlier, harsher than he had a need to be. His jackal had felt vulnerable and had needed to strike out. Rana, being an Isis witch, made for an easy target. He needed her and he didn’t want to. Didn’t want to feel the hunger that gnawed at him whenever he saw her. Didn’t want to experience the ache that ground into his bones when he had to leave her. Didn’t want to feel the soul-deep satisfaction when he claimed her.
Yet he couldn’t avoid her. Couldn’t stay away from her sweet smiles, her soft skin, her healing touch. When he ached, she alone was the balm that soothed him. When he burned with rage, she met him with the fire of her passion. He couldn’t avoid her. Not when he needed her so desperately.
That was the reason why he shouldn’t have come. But he couldn’t stay away.
He put his hand to the doorknob, surprised when it turned beneath his hand. She hadn’t locked the door. Instead, it swung inward, and he silently stepped into the bedchamber.
A soft lamp glowed on the nightstand beside the massive bed. Rana lay sprawled on her belly, naked except for the sheet, her cheek resting on a pillow clutched in both hands. Streaks marred her cheek, and he realized that she’d cried herself to sleep.
Guilt kicked him solidly in the gut. Her tears were his fault, he knew. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Rage had been a part of him for so long, he didn’t know how to feel anything else. Not until he’d met Rana. At first, it had been curiosity. She was different from the other priestesses, different from Tia. Different in a good way, a way that made it difficult to ignore her. When he’d kissed her, he’d felt hunger. Now, after spending every available moment in her bed and her arms, he felt a need that had blown right past desperation and wallowed in full-blown obsession.
He needed her, and it scared him. Fear wasn’t a familiar sensation, but this soft woman made him afraid. Most of his two thousand years had been spent defending and avenging his clan, and his anger provided the fuel to complete his mission. Being with her dulled that anger, soothed it to sleep. Without that anger, what would he be? What would he do?
“Rana.”
She stirred, then sat up, the sheet slipping from her breasts to pool at her waist. “Hector,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. Her tone pulled at him, made him hard. Before he could act on it, awareness darkened her eyes. “Are you going to be my guard when I relieve Inari?”
“No.”
Pain dulled the
Fresh tears stung her eyes. Yes, she loved Hector. As she’d told Markus, care was too mild a word for what she felt for him. She wanted to heal Hector. Wanted to ease his burden and lighten his soul. But once she told him the truth of her bloodline, she knew he wouldn’t let her.
Hector had to heal himself, had to want to heal himself. If he didn’t want her, so be it. Falling in love wasn’t part of her plan when she’d moved to the jackal compound. Finding a way to stop Amansuanan was. Now that she had the means, she would finish the task she’d set herself. What happened after that was in the gods’ hands.
Chapter Seven
He shouldn’t have come.
Hector stood outside the door to Rana’s chamber, torn. The windowless chamber had belonged to Markus before he met the Anput Tia, the Daughter of Isis who was now represented the female incarnation of Anubis for the clan, who had stood beside their leader and grieved with the people as they performed the funerary rites for Peter. Rana could have chosen one of the suites of rooms on the community house’s upper level, but had chosen to stay close to the infirmary in case someone needed her.
Like he needed her.
Hector closed his eyes, pressing his palm against the door. He’d been harsh to her earlier, harsher than he had a need to be. His jackal had felt vulnerable and had needed to strike out. Rana, being an Isis witch, made for an easy target. He needed her and he didn’t want to. Didn’t want to feel the hunger that gnawed at him whenever he saw her. Didn’t want to experience the ache that ground into his bones when he had to leave her. Didn’t want to feel the soul-deep satisfaction when he claimed her.
Yet he couldn’t avoid her. Couldn’t stay away from her sweet smiles, her soft skin, her healing touch. When he ached, she alone was the balm that soothed him. When he burned with rage, she met him with the fire of her passion. He couldn’t avoid her. Not when he needed her so desperately.
That was the reason why he shouldn’t have come. But he couldn’t stay away.
He put his hand to the doorknob, surprised when it turned beneath his hand. She hadn’t locked the door. Instead, it swung inward, and he silently stepped into the bedchamber.
A soft lamp glowed on the nightstand beside the massive bed. Rana lay sprawled on her belly, naked except for the sheet, her cheek resting on a pillow clutched in both hands. Streaks marred her cheek, and he realized that she’d cried herself to sleep.
Guilt kicked him solidly in the gut. Her tears were his fault, he knew. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Rage had been a part of him for so long, he didn’t know how to feel anything else. Not until he’d met Rana. At first, it had been curiosity. She was different from the other priestesses, different from Tia. Different in a good way, a way that made it difficult to ignore her. When he’d kissed her, he’d felt hunger. Now, after spending every available moment in her bed and her arms, he felt a need that had blown right past desperation and wallowed in full-blown obsession.
He needed her, and it scared him. Fear wasn’t a familiar sensation, but this soft woman made him afraid. Most of his two thousand years had been spent defending and avenging his clan, and his anger provided the fuel to complete his mission. Being with her dulled that anger, soothed it to sleep. Without that anger, what would he be? What would he do?
“Rana.”
She stirred, then sat up, the sheet slipping from her breasts to pool at her waist. “Hector,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. Her tone pulled at him, made him hard. Before he could act on it, awareness darkened her eyes. “Are you going to be my guard when I relieve Inari?”
“No.”
Pain dulled the
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