“I know that now, but I didn’t know then. I thought you were horrible. Then I had those terrible dreams.”
“The dream of your murder, it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. I lost you centuries ago in Alexandria, and although the gods forgave me, I never forgave myself. Mekh never forgave himself either. I’m sorry he frightened you. He just didn’t want to fail again. You were both killed that night and I was too late. I’ve waited many lifetimes for you to come back to me, Olive.”
“Well, here I am. In Alexandria again. How’s that for coming full circle?”
“It’s appropriate. Tonight, our hearts are lighter than a feather.” He pressed his heart scarab into her hand. “You hold mine. You always have.”
“And you hold mine. I love you.” She lay her head on his chest and smiled.
“I love you too.”
The light spray of hair on his torso tickled her cheek. “What happens now?”
“You mentioned another dig.”
“I did.”
Xavier kissed the top of her head. “I’ll fund it for you. No questions asked.”
“Thank you. And don’t ever buy anything from my father again.”
He laughed. “His little indiscretion lined the stars up for us but, yeah, no more art from him.”
Epilogue
Six Months Later – Cairo
Olive carefully examined the bandages of the mummy. “Based on size, it’s a male. Undisturbed. Bandages and resin are intact.”
“Mhmm.” Xavier carried a clipboard as he walked around to stand beside her. He wore khaki cargo pants and a t-shirt that fit tight around his biceps. Deliciously distracting.
She licked her lips and continued. “Sixteenth dynasty.” The musty scents of age-old cinnamon and jasmine hung in the stale air. The ancient Egyptians were masters of preserving their dead.
“A little before our time,” he commented and scribbled a note. Xavier moved the hair from her neck and planted a kiss below her ear. His lips were warm and soft.
She smiled. “Do I have to remind you that we’re working, Mr. Wells? Just because you funded this project doesn’t mean you get to screw around on my dig. You’re supposed to be writing this information down.”
“Right. Sorry, Dr. Prentiss.” He winked at her. “Whatever you say.”
“When we’re off the clock, you can have your way with me, sweetheart. But right now, we have work to do.”
He sighed and held the pen over the clipboard. “Fine.”
With a gloved hand, she pressed gently on the chest of the mummy. “The heart scarab is present beneath the linen.” She smiled at Xavier over her shoulder. “And we will leave it undisturbed.”
About the Author
Alyssa Breck is an award winning author of horror/urban fantasy, paranormal, romance and erotic fiction. She grew up reading Stephen King and V.C. Andrews. The Shining changed her life and sparked a love of all things scary, spooky and spine-chilling. Add some romance to that and she found her niche weaving paranormal and erotic romance stories. Alyssa hangs her hat in the South with her family of humans and fur-babies. You can learn more about Alyssa by visiting her website www.AlyssaBreck.com and following her on Twitter @AlyssaBreck and Facebook.
Also by Alyssa Breck
Branded by Sin
Broken by Fate
Unraveled
SMUT
Touched by a Demon
Homicide (Guns & Romances)
Love Voodoo
Mark of the Raven
Locked and Loaded (Field Stripped)
Hex Appeal
Missing Linc
Ripley Proserpina
For Becca.
Chapter One
15 Years Ago
His screams hurt Edythe’s ears.
They hurt her heart.
She pulled her knees to her chest, sitting up in bed. Tugging her nightgown over her feet, she waited. It would get worse. She didn’t know how her mother slept through it. For three months, almost every night, Edythe heard the screams. The very first time she’d awakened from a dead sleep to hear them and realized it wasn’t a nightmare, she ran into her mother’s room to shake her awake. “Mommy! Who’s screaming?”
Her mother had pulled Edythe’s hands away from her ears. “What are you talking about?”
“Screaming! Can’t you hear it?”
She didn’t. She couldn’t. Not the first night, nor any night since had Edythe’s mother heard the sounds of pain filling the house. Still, she let Edythe sleep with her. “Daddy’s down in his workshop,” her mother said. “Everything’s okay. It was just a bad dream. Go to sleep.”
Edythe knew what happened in the workshop now. She knew it wasn’t a dream. Her father was a monster. Instead of boogey men or ghosts, Edythe’s nightmares featured her father dressed in his white lab coat, glasses perched on his nose, while he took apart the boy he kept in a cage.
Her father’s “workshop” wasn’t like their neighbor’s. It wasn’t a place to make bird houses or fix an old go-cart. Her father had a much narrower interest. He was a biologist—at least, that’s what he told her.