Sins of the Flesh

She glanced around. “Why here?”


“Because this is one of seven small step pyramids scattered along the Nile between Seila and Elephantine Island. They’re commonly disregarded because of their size and lack of internal chambers or underground labyrinths.” He shrugged. “A fallacy. Those things are here. You just need to know where to look.”

“And you know where to look.”

“I do. Alastor is the research king. He can find almost anything.”

“We are near the Temple of Horus?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He took her hand and headed for the pyramid straight ahead. “Near the place where Horus faced off with Sutekh.”

“Why did you not simply open a portal into the Underworld?”

“No can do. The far side of the River Styx isn’t reachable that way. Only one way to get there. Boat. We need to get to a pickup point.”

“And the pickup point is here.”

“Close enough.”

“Close enough” turned out to be a half-hour’s walk, but Mal couldn’t open a portal any closer to the pyramids. No one could. He led her up the side of the pyramid that ran parallel to the Nile. Halfway up, he touched a series of stones in what appeared to be a haphazard manner.

It wasn’t. The pattern was specific. Then he ran his fingers along the massive stones, looking for the faint unleveling that would tell him which one to work on.

“Here,” Calliope said, and he glanced over to see her mirroring his actions.

The stone slid in when he pushed on it.

“In here?” Calliope asked dubiously.

They stood at the opening of a very narrow, very dark tunnel.

“In here,” Mal answered, his tone gruff.

Again, she peered into the darkness. “Do you have a flashlight?”

“Don’t need one. I can see well enough in the dark.”

He turned to her then. Her eyes were cat green, bright against dark lashes. There were things he wanted to say to her. And things he didn’t want to say. In the end, he only reached for her and drew her close.

“Calli.”

Pulling his knife from the sheath at his thigh he cut his hand and held it out to her, hoping she understood his intent. He would protect her any way he could, starting right here, right now, with another dose of his blood. It would make her stronger and faster. Make her heal if she got hurt. It was the best he could offer.

She held his gaze as she took his hand and cradled it in hers. Then she lowered her mouth and sealed her lips to his skin. The suction as she pulled from him was erotic.

“When this is over,” he said, “I want you to feed from me while I’m inside you.”

She was close against him, and he felt the faint tremor of her response to his words.

Then she let go of his hand and lifted her head. Her lips were dark and wet with his blood.

He reached for her and lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her, tasting the copper salt of his blood, letting her taste everything he wouldn’t put words to. Because she wasn’t ready to hear it. Not yet.

And then he drew back and let her go.





“NOW YOU CAN SEE IN the dark, too.” He grinned, a flash of white teeth against day-old dark stubble. The effect was unsettling. Sexy. Calliope wanted to kiss him again. To feel that stubble rub against her skin. To feel the smoothness of his lips both hard and soft against her own.

A dangerous inclination. She shoved it into a closet in her mind and slammed the door shut. She had no idea why Malthus Krayl made her feel things. And something told her she was better off not knowing. She only hoped it would pass. But she had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case.

Turning her attention back to the tunnel, she asked, “Where does it lead?”

“We’ll find out.” He held his hand out toward her. Despite the seriousness of the situation, there was a hint of teasing in his tone.

She made an effort to answer in kind. “Am I to understand that you expect me to cling to your hand and follow you into the darkness?”

He paused, shot her a glance over his shoulder, eyes smoldering. “Tight squeeze. No light. More than a little danger. What I like to call fun.”

He meant it. Anticipation hummed around him like an aura. He wanted to go into this cramped little tunnel, in the pitch-dark, descending hundreds of feet into the bowels of the earth.

“You do consider it fun,” she said.

He shrugged. “Despite my claustrophobia.”

“What?”

“Not fond of tight spaces. Especially elevators. I really dislike elevators. They remind me of cells. Or the hold of a ship. But tunnels are okay. There’s a way forward and a way back. It’s just the sides that are tight.”

“Right.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she asked, “How long is the tunnel?”

“About four hundred feet. Then there’s a link tunnel to another tunnel and then a tributary of the River Styx. A boat will be waiting.”