Dragon Soul
Page 52
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.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was growing younger right before my eyes.
“I don’t need a wig. My hair is long enough to sit on, although I kept it short for my hoochie-coo dancing. Teddy used to tell me I was his little tomboy.” She covered her mouth as she giggled. “He was such a bear of a man. Hahaha.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I said, nodding but still watching her closely, just in case she was going to change any more. “Teddy Roosevelt. Bear. Ha. Did you get contacts, too?”
She smiled at me, but said nothing, just closed her eyes and settled back for a nap.
“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.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was growing younger right before my eyes.
“I don’t need a wig. My hair is long enough to sit on, although I kept it short for my hoochie-coo dancing. Teddy used to tell me I was his little tomboy.” She covered her mouth as she giggled. “He was such a bear of a man. Hahaha.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I said, nodding but still watching her closely, just in case she was going to change any more. “Teddy Roosevelt. Bear. Ha. Did you get contacts, too?”
She smiled at me, but said nothing, just closed her eyes and settled back for a nap.
