Chapter Twelve

Arsinoë woke in a bed, in a room she did not recognise. Seated in a nearby chair was Sabra, who smiled to see her awake. "My Queen!"

"Water," Arsinoë croaked.

She was brought it, and gulped greedily. In a few minutes, the pounding of her head began to subside. "Where are we?"

"A villa in the city. They don't tell me who owns it."

"Caesar?"

"Perhaps, my Queen. We have heard nothing from him if that is so."

"Maahes?"

Sabra shivered in apparently instinctual fear. "I've seen nothing of him since he brought you here."

Arsinoë nodded, glancing down at her wrists. They were now carefully wrapped in linen bandages. She could feel that some kind of numbing balm had been applied. If she had been sentenced to death as she was meant to, her whole body would now be wrapped in cloth like this. Equally numb.

It was a strange feeling, having prepared herself so well for death, to find she was still alive. She was in no doubt that she owed her life to Maahes' – or rather, his family's – intervention. Whoever, and whatever, they might be. She was absolutely certain they would not be a family in the conventional sense, though he had mentioned a father on more than one occasion. Her curiosity regarding that could wait, however: Maahes had promised to tell her everything, and she believed him.

One question could not wait, however. What now?

Caesar had spared her life publicly, but that was no guarantee of future clemency. When news reached her, Cleopatra would be furious. Arsinoë obviously could not return to Alexandria, which left only two options: life in a Roman prison, or exile. Though to where?

"My Queen?" Sabra's voice broke in to her thoughts, hesitant but enquiring. Arsinoë had been staring out of the window for some time now.

"How did you get here, Sabra?" Arsinoë asked her.

"I was brought here just after the triumph began, and when Maahes brought you here, he charged me to watch over you."

"Thank you," Arsinoë said, making an effort to smile. Sabra looked so worried.

"I've had word from Gala and Meysene. All went as planned for them; they are free."

"Good."

"They also ask if you intend to escape Rome."

"Even if I did, they're under no obligation to come with me. Neither are you, for that matter. I release you from my service, Sabra."

Sabra licked dry lips. "If that is true, then …" She left her chair and knelt at Arsinoë's feet. "Allow me to pledge my fealty and honour to you as a free person, Queen Arsinoë. I promise to serve you faithfully, with my whole life, until Horus takes me from this world."

Arsinoë took her hands and pulled her to her feet, embracing her like a sister. "I gladly accept your loyalty, Sabra. Thank you."

"I also saved your figures of the gods, my lady. Here."

The worn soapstone figures felt warm in her hands, as if waking up to the recognition of her touch. She brought Isis to her mouth and whispered a prayer of thanks. Shortly afterwards, she made Sabra go and get some rest around the time the sun set, so she was alone for the first time in months. She could not savour it, however – she was too eager, too impatient for Maahes. It would be difficult to say which she wanted more: his words or his touch. She thought about how the hard planes of his body had felt, when she was cradled against him.

She wanted his touch. She had gone so long without it, and now that there was nothing in the way–

The flame of the oil lamp flickered, just a little, flaring for a moment before continuing to burn strongly once more. It was enough to tell her the warm shiver up her spine was justified, and she smiled. She did not let any trace of the smile into her voice though, making her tone imperious when she spoke to the previously-empty room. "It is customary to wait for an invitation, before coming to a queen's bed."

"Have I not already been invited here once?"

She turned to see Maahes was stretched out on the bed looking entirely at ease, every naked, golden inch of him somehow glowing in the dim light. It took a strength of will not to swallow hard at the sight as Arsinoë felt desire instantly dry her mouth. How was it, with all of Rome to choose from, this creature came to her?

"You have," she acknowledged, somehow managing to iron out the tremble in her voice. "Yet that was once. I do not remember arranging another such encounter. Perhaps I merely needed the distraction." Her feet were taking her closer to the bed as she spoke, though, and she saw his nostrils widen, his eyes dilate, as preternatural senses caught the scent of her arousal. She probably needn't bother speaking at all; her body was shouting the truth at him.

When he reached out a hand, she put hers into it without hesitation, the slender digits all but disappearing into his palm. "And do you not still require a distraction?"

Arsinoë moved onto the bed, hitching her shift high enough up so that she straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips. Leisurely, his hands slid up underneath the linen to rest on her hips, the touch more than light but anchoring her all the same. She let her own hands rove slowly over his chest, trailing her fingernails through the sparse hair.

"Do you offer yourself as such, Maahes?"

"I am at your command."

She laughed softly. "Then undress me."

He sat up and began doing so with a slowness that meant she felt every touch as e along tortured skin. Arsinoë closed her eyes and sat perfectly still, her eyes closed and her very heart threatening to pound from her chest. His mouth touched at her pulse point first, the tip of his tongue flicking out as if to taste her – she knew, suddenly, with a thrill of what might have been fear, that was exactly what he was doing – before he moved down her neck and along each collarbone. At each shoulder, he undid the brooch holding her shift in place with nimble movements, and soon her torso was bared. He took hold of the shift and tossed it from her body, across the room. Then his palms were flat against her back, pulling her body in to his and scanning her face. She closed the distance and kissed him, twining her arms around his neck as she did. He tasted of pepper and metal. That heat spread further through her as his hands slid down her back and around, drawing small circles on her hips. Impatiently, she rocked forwards, feeling herself aching to be filled by him.

He smiled against her mouth. "Patience."

"Just what a god would say," she returned, catching his lips between her teeth briefly. "I have not the lifetime for patience, Maahes."

He eked it out anyway, drawing desire from her until she felt it straining like a wild horse under a tight rein. She was determined she could not beg, but the instinctual moans and whimpers echoing from her throat were as good as a plea. As was the way her body moved under his slow, calloused hands, a puppet on a string. It was at the moment when he guided her own hand to move over her breast that the queen's restraint snapped. She pushed him back onto the bed; he fell willingly, apparently because he'd misunderstood.

"This much I could do for myself," she said, "and I have servants more than willing to take your place, Roman."

"Then call one of them, though they are not worthy of you."

"You've yet to prove you are," she returned.

He reached for her arm, pressing his mouth to her fingertips briefly before nipping at the inside of her wrist with sharp teeth. Arsinoë watched him without softening. "I give of myself, Maahes. I expect nothing less in return."

The oil lamp flared, lighting his face starkly, and she saw his desire too, his pupils blown wide and drinking in the sight of her. He wanted her as badly as she did him. She put a hand down between their bodies and caressed him, feeling him pulse and twitch under her hand, steel-hard and more than ready for her. With his hands on her hips – steadying both of them – she sank slowly onto him. They had a moment of stillness, staring at each other, bodies joined, before Arsinoë rocked her pelvis. Her lover rose slightly and gently held her hips as she threw her head back, the pleasure unfurling from the base of her spine, ready to spear outwards to the rest of her. He fit perfectly inside her, body moving in tandem with hers. His hands on either side of her waist held her with the lightest of touches, it felt like merely to weigh her down lest she float skyward. His mouth travelled skilfully over her throat and chest, driving her pleasure onwards. Her first climax came easily, the initial release waiting for its chance. The second, third- Arsinoë lost awareness of everything but the man under, over, beside her. It was drawing close to dawn before he allowed her to draw the same climax from him, the primal sounds he made the first real opportunity for her to see him lose his tightly-held control.

Her chest heaving, Arsinoë collapsed onto the bed, dimly aware of her lover doing the same beside her. She allowed sleep to claim her almost immediately, not needing to open her eyes to see the expression of smug satisfaction on his face. Her last thought, before unconsciousness rose up, was that he definitely had earned it.

Maahes was gone when Arsinoë woke, with the full morning sun shining in her face. She stretched languidly, feeling a warm ache in most of her muscles. It would be a while before she could do that again, she thought with a smile. She doubted she could say the same of her now-lover.

It was deliciously tempting to lean back into the pillows and close her eyes again, but equally, she was very hungry.

Footsteps sounded, and Maahes appeared with a tray of food. "I heard you waking."

"How long have I slept?"

"It's almost noon. I expected you to sleep longer. Humans rarely have your stamina."

"Is that a compliment?"

He flashed a white grin and handed her a plate of bread, fruit and olive oil. He poured out red wine for both of them while she ate, unashamedly allowing her eyes to rove over his form. He was less otherworldly, but still utterly magnificent in the daylight, and it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience just looking at him. When she, eventually, found his eyes again, he was also drinking in the sight of her.

"I suppose visiting the baths would be out of the question? I certainly need to get clean," she commented.

"Visiting the public baths would, yes. Happily, we have our own," he said.

She followed him through the villa, which seemed almost as labyrinthine as the palace she'd grown up in, and as exquisitely decorated. Nothing was overdone, but there was a definite feminine touch. She looked at Maahes. "Who lives here?" she asked.

"I do."

"Who else, then?"

He smirked at her. "There's no other woman, I promise you."

Arsinoë tried and failed to hide her flush. But still – she saw no reason why he should be the only possessive one. "Good."

The baths were in a separate building on the same site as the main villa, the tiles warm underfoot from the hypocaust beneath. She removed her robe and stepped gratefully into the tepidarium. The pool was deep enough so that the water came up to her shoulders, and comfortably warm. She dipped her head under the water and ran her fingers several times through her hair. She surfaced with a satisfied smile. The water level was significantly lower on Maahes, given his height and bulk. The pool was large, so they swam for a while, Arsinoë feeling the aches in her muscles be slowly stretched out. When she had finished, she kicked back to float on her back, gazing up at the heavily mosaicked ceiling. It depicted a love scene: Venus and Mars, though not in any incarnation she had seen them before. Venus had long, honey blonde hair and green eyes alight with mischief. Mars, more leonine even than Maahes, gazed at his lover adoringly, but the artist had managed to avoid them looking anything less than strong and fiercely, defiantly devoted to each other. It was fine work.

She pushed downward again, settling her feet against the floor of the pool and her eyes on her lover. When he moved towards her, she leaned against the edge of the pool and put her leg out to stop him, resting it against his abdomen.

"Everything," she said simply.

"Yes, I did promise you that, didn't I?"

She nodded. "Begin with you, and your family. Are they all like you?"

"Yes. My father and his mate, and my brother. We are small, as vampire families go."

"Vampire?" she asked.

"What I am. Flattering as the comparison is, we are not gods."

"No? You are not as I am, either."

"True." He took a deep breath, and looked as though he were debating where to start. "Come."

She followed him as he exited the pool and headed into the next room (from a reasonable distance, where she could fully appreciate his backside). The caldarium was significantly hotter, the fires of the hypocaust burning fiercely underneath the tiles. Arsinoë felt sweat begin to prickle across her forehead, which was of course the point. Normally, there would be servants of slaves waiting to oil them, but instead Maahes gestured for her to lie on a cushioned table, face down. Surprised that he intended to cleanse her himself, she did as she was bid.

"Is there no end to your talents, Maahes?" she teased.

He poured oil into his palm and smoothed it over her skin. "Hush, and listen."

So listen she did. She listened as he talked about the hunger for blood that always resided in him; the strength he possessed; the speed; the longevity; how long he had been this way; how he came to be this way. It was difficult to concentrate on all of it, interested as she was. The juxtaposition of his rough, calloused hands and the silken oil against her skin, kneading her muscles, felt divine.

She was perilously close to making the kinds of noises she had last night, under his ministrative hands. When he had massaged the oil over the back of her body, he turned her over and oiled the front. Arsinoë watched him with half-lidded eyes, still fixated on his words.

When she was fully oiled, he pulled her from the table and onto a couch, seating her between his legs and against his broad chest. Arsinoë relaxed against him as he picked up a strigil, putting her head against his shoulder. He ran the strigil along her limbs, taking with it the oil and any dirt that there was. Reclined against him while he tended to her body, totally protected from anything that might want to harm her, she was able to give him her whole focus. She found it an intensely erotic experience.

When the movements of his hands were finished, so were his words. Finished, he looked at Arsinoë. She was still leaning against him, one leg stretched out in front of her. "So …" She lifted a hand and began counting on her fingers. "You feed from the life essence of mortals. You possess the strength of twenty men. You are faster than any cheetah. You are incredibly, almost impossibly hard to kill, and, if not killed, you live forever."

He nodded.

She laughed. "Oh, Maahes. If all that is true, in what way are you not a god?"

He considered. "Well, when you put it like that ..."

He drew her into the gaspingly hot water. "Do I take it, then, that you intend to continue to call me 'Maahes'?"

"Unless you have some objection."

"No."

"More like approval, I see," she laughed.

Against her inner thigh, his cock twitched in agreement. He kissed her hard, fisting his hand in her wet hair and tilting her head, angling his mouth where he wanted it. Unused to ceding control, Arsinoë discovered quickly how thrilling she found it. He was so contained, so careful, that seeing him lower even a little of his control was like seeing a pet tiger suddenly lunge, and being reminded how wild it was. She pictured him taking her as wild creatures took their mates, the image making her moan with want. To gain better leverage, Maahes backed her against the wall of the pool and sheathed himself within her. Arsinoë's cry echoed from the mosaicked walls.

From fast, Maahes moved to slow, with deep movements of his hips which left her alternately fulfilled and desperately aching for him the next. When she felt him smile against her mouth, she pulled back from the kiss and took a breath to swear at him. He took the opportunity to move his mouth down to suddenly suck one of her nipples into his mouth.

Arsinoë let her head fall back. "Bastard."

"So they tell me."

She grabbed his hair as his mouth dropped back to her breast. She arched into him and moaned his name. "Maahes …" She looked down to stare him in the eyes, lust clouding her vision as effectively as the steam. "More," she ordered.

Taking that to mean – accurately – more of everything, Maahes obeyed. The precipice they had been walking no longer existed, and his slow, languorous thrusts turned suddenly sharp and quick, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises. Rubbing against the tiles left small grazes on her back. The interplay of pleasure with a knife-edge of pain made her breathless and intoxicated – when her climax surged up to claim her, it was like being blinded. She felt Maahes shudder as he came a moment later, breathing her name against her shoulder in ecstasy.

Slowly, he pulled her away from the wall. She hissed as the scalding water hit the grazes on her back. He kissed her gently but didn't apologise, which was as she expected. "Frigidarium?"

She nodded, heading to the steps which led out of the caldarium. At the top, she paused and turned to face him. "Maahes? There's an infusion of various herbs that can prevent pregnancy. Do I need to procure some?"

"No," she answered.

"No because our liaison will be discontinued after I leave Rome, or no because I cannot bear your child?"

"The latter. Vampires do not reproduce in that way."

She nodded, feeling cheered. He had answered the first question too: they would continue this. She could have him a little longer.