Author's Note: Thank you to everyone, alerts, favorites, reviews and silent readers for giving this story a chance. Please enjoy the next chapter!

Discovery

Zambia Ranch

In 1972 a small industrial town was developed through the back breaking efforts of two young men, with little more than five hundred Somali shillings and a dream as wide and devoted as their love for the motherland. It was at first, a mere struggling attempt to cling onto a fading hope, for you see, the young men, being only thirteen and fifteen at the time in 1969, couldn't afford more than a few lumps of bread and beef through money earned from their mother's hard work.

She labored day in and out, at times not coming home for days in order to satisfy her employer's wishes. Their mother, Zambia Bello, worked several homes at a time for the foreign colonists who frequented the Kenya villages.

Kenya was a five mile walk from her home and as loyal as an elephant family to a migration, she never failed to arrive on time.

The scorching sun beat down on the dry lands, warming the vast plains to an unbearable ferocity as the eldest son's mother walked on her bare feet to the hut stationed on the edge of Thika town. He could only earn so much as a fifteen year old back than without having to risk leaving his younger brother alone to black marketers desiring to kidnap a young boy for profit.

Zambia always muster a smile as brilliant as the sun from her dry, sunbaked lips and carried a bold snap to her spine when she would arrive home. It was a horrible façade she put forth to assure her two sons that she could continue the work as well as love them unconditionally. Aknamkanon knew otherwise. He was old enough to interpret the sunken darkness encircling his mother's eyes, the way she wavered when walking to the bedroom to relax her blistered feet and how the sweat flowed from her rust colored skin. There were times he was afraid for the day he'd see his mother's figure distorted by the sun's massive heat waves, collapse and no longer stand.

Those fears escalated the stronger he became and the thinner his mother seemed to become. That serene, enchanting smile was becoming more reserved during the moments she noticed her sons watching her every move. How long did she think she could fool her children for long?

Sometimes, Aknamkanon would sacrifice his own meals during dinner to his mother so that she would have the strength to carry on.

"I'm as fit as an ox and twice as strong," he'd confidently vocalized in high spirits and a brawly tone. "I can carry a hundred men on one shoulder and have enough room for you."

Zambia would look at her oldest son and the see the face of a man she wished had half the courageous as he did. Alas, it could not be so. Their father preferred an existence without the burden of children and a lowly wife.

"And how do you expect to keep up that strength, boy?" she muttered in her husky, deep voice. "A strong man needs meat to fill those scrawny bones."

"So does a skinny woman," he'd argue with hints of respect and a stubbornness bearing too much strong will to conceit defeat. "I can eat anytime, Mother. Please," he would push his plate forward, not a crumb touched. "I will be fine."

Zambia, for a flicker of a moment, looked torn between submitting to her own hungers and refusing her son's offer, as appetency fought with maternal obligation. In the end, she was gratified with her willpower.

"No, my son," Zambia's said through parched, cracked lips, tongue dry and thick in her mouth, putting a tired, sweet smile as she pushed the plate away. "Don't insult your mother's hard labor. My bones may ache and my soul weary, but I work to keep you and your brother happy. That much can quail the most ruthless hunger."

That's how the dinners later were; Aknamkanon urging his mother to eat or share from his plate and Zambia refusing to take food from her children's mouth.

One night, after a heated argument between son and mother, Aknamkanon vowed never to seek his mother's company until she would stop forfeiting so much of her needs for her children. He'd left the home, running until he reached the connecting Chania and Thika Falls outside the village. It'd been his safe haven to clear his mind, to comprehend his troubles and work through them with calm meditation. The tranquil, silvery moon would be his guardian, shielded by the wispy remnants of a half-finished cloud.

The connecting rivers were quiet and soothing as ice water to a shriveled blossom. It eased his conflicted mind for with the gurgle plucks washing along the shore. Eventually, the scenic route would lead to the denser portions of the Thika forests, wildly lush with fruit trees, massive tree trunks, and at last, a small clearing filled with tightly closed flower-buds, and a thick cluster of trees surrounding the area. The silence was purged with the sputter of a loosen stream that trickled toward a small pond. In the center of the clearing was a large tree.

Aknamkanon climbed up the rough exterior of the tree with familiarity of a lover and found purchase on a jutted branch. Here, he found peace and he could think and he could imagine a world so much deserving for his mother.

"Kaka*!" a hurried, panting voice interrupted Aknamkanon just as he was merging himself with a cooler composure. The eldest Bello son, glanced between his gapped legs to see the downy black locks of his younger brother.

The young man nervously scoured the surrounding coppice, having sworn he'd seen his brother venture this way. He shoved through the brush, staying as close to the tree at all times.

Aknadin worriedly cupped his palms to his face and called out, "Kaka, where are you?"

A beat later, several shrill chirps and long winded warbles, drew Aknadin's attention upward. Dove grey eyes peered up at the thick branches, the way the twigs and sticks seemed to shudder from some unknown force. He paled whiter than his copper skin and took a step back just as a lanky arm darted out and bunched in the collar of his cream tunic. He was yanked with surprising power and pulled through the branches until propped right on top of warm, long legs.

The boy shrieked. A large hand cupped his mouth. Immediate terror tore through like a bolt of lightning and he dug his elbows into the offender's chest, pushing forward.

"Be still, mjinga*," Aknamkanon hissed as he locked his elbows in place to halt any further struggles from his resisting brother. With Aknamkanon being the taller and stronger of the pair, he was able to withstand his brother's thrashing and boney elbow thrusts.

Aknadin's muffled protests renewed at the relieving sound of his brother. The offending hand withdrew and the younger brother adjusted himself to swing his legs swung on one side of Aknamkanon's thighs.

"Ba!" Aknamkanon swatted the back of his brother's head, ignoring his shouted cry. "Kidogo mjinga*, what have I told you about sneaking out? The poarchers steal beasts as well as stupid little boys!"

"Kaka, you left," Aknadin said in a whisper barely above a spider crawl. His voice held a slight anxiety to it. "Mother worries for you every moment you're gone. Come home and sooth her tears. I hate to see her spirit bleed so."

The aforementioned brother shook his head. "I'm no good to her with a clouded mind."

"Clouded with what? Your pigheadedness?" scoffed Aknadin. "No matter how angry you are, do not shun me and mother for it!"

"I'm not shunning you when I come here!" The elder brother defended through clenched teeth. "I come to wonder and to dream."

Aknadin looked taken back by the outlandish confession. The little brother frowned speculatively, thought about it, then licked his index finger and stuck it straight in Aknamkanon's ear.

His brother jolted, one hand clapped to his ear, grey eyes wide and appalled. "What was that for?"

Aknadin stared at his index finger suspiciously and a smile slowly spread his lips. "You are awake than. How can you dream with your eyes open?"

It took three seconds for Aknamkanon to piece together his brother's words, since he was still lost in utter disgust. "It's simple," he said, eyes straying every moment to the little brother's hand. When he dimmed it safe, he lowered his palm. "I allow my mind to wander away on its own to a different place. Like one I wish we could live in. A better life for me, you and mother."

"Oh!" Aknadin exclaimed, with a knowing snort. "I do that too. When you leave to dream with your eyes open, I do the same at home, but the right way."

"It's not the same," the elder brother disagreed, expression irritated. "I see visions I want, things I want, and desires I want."

"So. Do. I," Aknadin emphasized each word with a poke to his brother's shoulder. "All the time. The sun is always bright, our mother is able to sleep without worry and you and I work as one to make our own shillings. Lots and lots of shillings!" The young man broke off into a child-like mirth, laughter pouring from him with such sudden glee, neither noticed or cared how he was viewed. "I bet my dreams are more beautiful than yours."

Aknamkanon didn't mind taking the taunting bait. He was so raptured in hearing someone else share his secret wants, especially his younger brother that he drew up a leg and smiled. "I bet they aren't," he tossed back, saucily. "My dreams are as far and as vast as the savannah."

Aknadin naturally rose to the challenge, shifting himself off his brother's thighs to sit next to him. He went on to prove his imagination was ten times more lucid, a thousand times more wondrous and a million times more definite to come true.

How truly magnificent was it to find a kindred spirit like your own in your own brother whose mind could travel beyond the struggles, the regret and sorrows to a hidden oasis within his mind?

The eldest brother listened and nodded as through eloquent details, Aknadin went to describe what's always been in Aknamkanon's heart. A land full of trees pregnant with fruits, herds of wild cattle caroled in fenced acres, hunters, medicine men a plenty and the shillings that would surely follow. And, the wish to see Zambia Bello content with a reclining chair and yarn to knit socks and weave baskets for her grandchildren. The two of them, could run the ideal land with iron will and determined spirits.

It would take another three years before those dreams set into motion. With only five hundred shillings to their name, the brothers took the risks. Little by little, they trimmed at the foundations holding their illusionary world hostage. The land came first, acres upon acres of open lush green grass as smooth and cool as an emerald ocean. Succulent, rich orchards arose thereafter in throes; mangos, coco bean trees, bananas, papayas, and fields of tobacco and vegetables.

Not long after, five Ankole longhorns, four cows and one bull, were bought and raised to become a herd of one hundred and six. More houses were built upon the land to accommodate the hired workers, and families who've struggled through hardships and turmoil. The biggest bungalows were stationed in the middle of the ranch, now named Zambia to represent the love of their mother.

From their houses, the brothers could walk out and see the tree that started the conversation to their venture. The tree had since grown pass the canopy and seemed to wink from a distance at the brothers as if to compare growth.

Eight long years later in 1980, Aknamkanon and Aknadin's dreams were no longer fantasies conjured up by children. They were reality. They were real. The biggest achievement of all for the brothers was going to visit the only village bungalow decorated in African Violets. It was Zambia's home; a warm haven where the sons would greet and kiss their mother's willowy cheeks and massage her calloused knuckles. She would smile, a tired and proud one that would never know about hard labor again. She would give her sons another eight years to enjoy their hard earned world and witness the birth of all four of her grandchildren.

Aknadin was the first to marry, and smitten he was, the day he happened upon a Briton woman during a business expedition to Kenya. Her name was Charlize Din, a native born African with British roots. The woman was voluptuous in every sense of the word, thickly set, but not disgustingly so. The overflowing crimson, gold and silver sundress she wore that day accented her thick curves and seemed to bring out the sparkling blue in her eyes that were the color as a summer sky. Her lips were full and would often relax in a smirk as wicked as a mountain witch. They were married within two years and the pair bore two children: Seth Bello and Anzu Bello.

Aknamkanon was not far behind his brother in romance. It was on a cold, rainy patrol around the perimeter of Zambia Ranch when a strangled cry resonated near the fences. On horse, with several others, he tore off into the distance, thinking it could be poachers, traders, or thieves who'd snuck on his land to steal. Upon arrival he discovered something much worst.

A woman, frail and petite as a desert weed, was being beaten and molested by countless hunters. The elder Bello brother managed to chase the offenders off and tended to the mangled woman. Her wounds were cared for, for three weeks, and not once had she opened her eyes.

He checked on her every hour of every day, watching the wounds mend and the bruises vanish. Before long, she did open her eyes and Aknamkanon knew he could never leave her side. Her beauty was unlike any he'd ever seen. With meals, she'd gained weight to fill in her brittle limbs and curves. Her hair was as fiery as a volcanic outburst and she had lavender-chilled eyes that emphasized the glow of her dark brown skin. Aknamkanon was infatuated right away immediately. He followed her loyally no matter where she went and she timidly enjoyed his company. Her name, he later learned, was Desta Jaja, a runaway woman from the Eastern villages after they were raided by traders. They fell in love and married a year later. Together, they bore two children: a son named Atem Bello and another son, Heba Bello.

Through the teachings of their parents and schooling from outside sources, the children grew and began to manage the ranch in their own way. It flourished and expanded outward to reach other foreigners, modernizing bit by bit Atem and Seth ruled the majority of the ranch's operations, such as imports and exports of organized trades between other industrial towns and connected politically with other ranch chiefs. Anzu Bello handled the financial bulk of the people's, the animal and the ranch's wealth with a sharp intelligence and perspective eye. Heba Bello, the youngest of the family, controlled the hourly patrols, security and safety of the ranch, the people on the land, as well as the animals and kept diligent reports on anything out of the ordinary.

Today, he and Timaeus Deo, an Anglo-African descendant from Ghana who joined the Zambia ranch five years prior, were scouting the fences in the heavily pouring rains, when a worker claimed to spot a lion run off with one of the calves. The men were drenched to the bone, wearing red and green rubbery raincoats. Sheets of the rain slammed in intervals with whipping winds, taunting them with sudden bursts and turbulence.

The weather was traitorous this time of year. Only God knew why Atem would cast his own baby brother out in the elements.

"Sadistic bastard," Heba growled, gripping the reins on his horse to slow her stride. "Easy, girl, easy." He gave her strong neck three hard pats to calm her nerves. Something was making her skittish. Curious, the twenty year old, urged her forward a couple of steps and called a halt.

Timaeus aligned his stallion next to Heba's, and reached up to tug off his hood to reveal his sodden jet black hair and soggy teal banes. His one ash grey eye, the only lost and scarred to a leopard attack three years ago, gave the swaying plains a long scan, not noticing a thing out of place. His mustang knew differently. The animal reeled back on its heels and clicked its hooves, bouncing his massive head up and down.

"Settle down there, Hermos," Timaeus called over the raging storm. He turned his attention back to Heba, whose eyes were busily combing the grounds and bushes with a keen eye. "Do you see anything?"

Heba sucked his teeth. "Nothing!" He shivered and slinked back from a mix of beating cold rain and gusting winds. "How in the devil's name does Atem expect us to find one lion out here in this storm? The beast's probably got more sense to hide with his catch then to be out here like us!"

With a quick glance at Heba, Timaeus saw the latter looking a little troubled. "Do you think we should call off the search until the storm rides over?"

"Ha, no chance in hell!" If Heba knew his older brother, it was that the chief-in-training had no tolerance for an incomplete mission. Heba would rather cut his foot than sit through an ear-bleeding lecture from his brother.

If they could just find the rabid lion, things would fall into place from there.

Heba tried to urge his mare forward. She didn't move. Her disobedience was amazing. Out of the many horse in the ranch, she was one of the few who had the best training and followed every command.

"Raja," Heba called, popping his heels against her round flank. "Go on, girl." She didn't budge. Something was wrong. Heba figured her to be too scared of the horrible gale or spooked at the scent of predators lurking in the shadows.

"Whoa!"

Hermos reeled back on his hind legs, bucking his legs in the air. Timaeus pulled at the horse's reins until he propped down on all fours.

"What the devil is wrong with them?"

Heba shook his head. "No idea. Raja, go!" Heba tried once again with no luck. Figuring she was shook to the core by all the thunder and lightning, Heba dismounted the beast and landed with a wet slush on the muggy earth.

He pulled his long barrel rifle from the sling on his back and kept a tight grip on Raja's reins. She didn't start acting up until they reached this part of the land. That could only mean something was here that didn't belong. Walking on, he waved for Timaeus to follow behind and pushed aside the bushes with his gun. Naked twigs crunched under his weight. Heba leaned in on one particular bush to hold it down when the lightning flashed overhead.

His foot wouldn't touch down much further and he was shocked to see why and jolted back against Raja's chest.

"Timaeus! Come here!" Heba fluidly waved his long arm before kneeling down to the ground. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. After forcing off the rest of the thorny shrubbery, the lightning's lambency revealed a bloody arm and attached to it was a mangled body.

"What is it, man?" Timaeus hollered, sprinting forth with his gun cocked.

Heba reached out to remove the earthy objects, fully revealing his find.

Timaeus gasped. "A man? Is he alive?"

"I don't know," Heba said, tone shrieked with shock. The frail man's body was a wreck, face masked with dried blood and mud that caked his hair to his scalp. His clothes were ripped to shreds, clinging together by strings and his pants hung half way off his hips.

Heba thought the worse as he brushed aside the wet dirtiness on the man's face. His face was badly bruised and littered with paper thin cuts.

"Good God, what happened to him?" Timaeus voiced from behind. "He looks beaten from the inside out."

"Poachers no doubt, the bastards." Heba wouldn't put it past those hunters or traders to have tried to ruin this man's poor body. Heba's dark tanned fingers skated over the broken form, feeling for anything malformed. When Heba reached the victim's wrist he curled his index and thumb around to feel for a pulse.

"Is he alive?" Timaeus repeated with assurance in his voice that the man just might be dead.

Heba nodded. "Aye, but no telling for how long if he stays out here. He'll die for sure."

"His tribe could be looking for him."

"No one is gonna think about coming out here in this storm. He was fortunate that we were foolish enough to be out." Heba hunkered himself lower to the ground, and carefully shifted the body on its side to examine for any further injuries. His dark grey eyes grimly discovered a long gash cut through the man's shirt. No, he wouldn't survive much longer without medical attention.

"We need to take him home to Mother and Auntie."

"Are you crazy?" Timaeus had to question because of how conveniently the youngest Bello left out his hot headed brother and father's names. "You'll go this trouble for a total stranger? What will your father say?" Worst, what would Atem do? The man was known around the tribe for his steely resolves.

"My job is to uphold security, isn't it?" Heba bit off angrily. "Who cares what he thinks? And what trouble would it be? He's on our land. Should I be a coward and leave a fallen man to the elements? I'll suffer a tortured conscious for years!"

"Aknamkanon won't be happy nor will your brother."

"Then what do you suggest we do, Timaeus? Just leave him here to die alone?" Heba wiped the excess rains from his face, and pushed aside his fallen ebony hair. "You let me deal with them when we get back." Besides, he'd grown immune to their scathing tempers. Heba had plenty of visual lessons watching how his mother, Desta, dealt with her son and husband. If her patience taught Heba anything, it was to remain calm while they tired themselves out with their stubbornness.

Aghast at his employer's brother's foolishness, Timaeus clenched his hands hard by his side resisting the urge to smack some sense into the youth. Heba could deny not being as stubborn as his father and brother all he wanted. Timaeus knew otherwise.

"Fine," he said scathingly, not liking the idea one bit. "We take him home. But after that, we need to find out what tribe he's from and get him back soon. We don't need any unnecessary conflicts." Pushing up to his feet, Timaeus went off to gather Hermos and Raja closer.

Heba mounted Raja, patting her mane softly to sooth her nervousness. "Give him to me." Heba held out his arms.

And Timaeus looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. "We shouldn't move him should we?"

Heba sighed long and irritated. As much as he enjoyed Timaeus' company, sometimes too much to be considered healthy in his father's eyes, the dark haired man wasn't that bright.

"How else will we get him to the village?"

"But Old Lady Saga says you should never move an injured person. We could cause more harm than good."

"Old Lady Saga doesn't know what's talking about. Now, give 'em here." Heba beckoned with his hands.

Taking a deep breath, Timaeus conceded defeat and as delicate as placing crystal on a table, lowered himself to pick up the crumbled man. Timaeus lifted him up to Heba, pity entering his eyes for the man because his weight was so nonexistent, he could've floated away.

Heba carefully settled the man on his chest, shielding his face with his raincoat and sheltering him from the blasting rains. Picking him up was like lifting a newborn, so fragile and weak. Heba kicked his heels to Raja's sides and started at a gradual trot home. Timaeus flanked his right side, stealing curious glances over at the stranger's face.

Heba felt so much pity for him and questions quickly flooded his mind. How on earth did he get out here? How did he get injured? Was it really poachers or traders and if so, how did he escape being sold? God forbid, if he was a rape victim. Heba glanced down at the man's face, noticing how . . . strange and distinct his features were.

His skin was too pale to be from South African, though he could be a Briton descendent like his Auntie. He looked so very young, and skinny. Much too skinny. And his skin was clammy and filthy from the rains, blood and mud. Placing his palm on the small of the stranger's back, Heba shifted him closer to his chest. He would need all the warmth he could from the chill.

Thoughts of his brother's reaction started to brew in his head. Atem wouldn't like this at all. Finding strangers and bringing them to the village wasn't admissible because of the assumptions that new strangers could be a danger to the women and children.

As the ranch's outline began to trance the horizon, Heba swallowed the tinge of anxiety that usually clogged his chest before a confrontation with his father and brother.

Timaeus' large hand clapped his friend's shoulder. "Be brave."

"Tsk." Easier said than done.

The occasional flare of the night storm filtered through the windows, brilliantly radiating the cream, emerald and brown interior designed office, spotlighting blues and whites on Atem's desk. He was in his personal office, working through an endless stack of documents needing his secondary approval alongside Seth's signature. The papers were stacked as high as his brow, neatly confined in a towering pile, just in reach to be grabbed, read, signed and transferred to the smaller pile to his right.

The dreary task left him little time to do much else, besides answer phone calls, phone conferences, and meetings with his father, uncle and cousins.

After declining a transportation agreement from another village, Atem paused to roll his tender shoulders and crack his joints out of their stiffness. Swirling around in his leather seat, Atem glanced out the window above his head, seeing the abusive slap of tree trunks refusing to kneel before the howling winds.

'He must be wondering where I am by now,' Atem wearily though, giving his mind a moment to wander to a certain someone. Drumming his fingers on his desk top, he pursed his lips in a firm line. He should call to see what he's doing? Maybe he was as bored as he was. No, he was probably angry. Atem had promised to be ready for supper about three hours ago and hear it was nearing the fourth.

With a weary sigh, Atem absently stopped tracing circles on his desk and leaned forward to cup his face in his arms. He hadn't had much sleep for the past three days, because of all the issues running about on the ranch, having to deal with those damn poachers and that blood thirsty lion getting too close to the livestock.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Come in!" Atem admitted with a muffled grunt.

There was hesitation. Then a beat later, the gently opened and an erupting head of crimson, ebony and gold poked in. The sight of seeing his fiancée's head tucked in his arms brought a small smile to Yami's face, but he knew Atem wasn't sleep.

Yami entered the officer, wearing a light blue, long sleeve tunic and white linen cargo pants, bare foot. This office was connected to the five bedroom, three bathroom, bungalow hut they shared on the edge of the village.

"Yami?" A hinted tenor of relief was heard in Atem's voice when he lifted his head and saw it was indeed, the love of his life.

Yami took a few moments to drink in Atem's appearance. In the four years they've known one another, looking at the exotic man was like being welcomed into the sun's morning embrace; so warm and inviting. He fit the profile of chief down to a tee, even while casually leaning back in his chair. His aloof grin tugged at his full lips, graced on a caramel chiseled face. Those lavender eyes were hauntingly cool and imposingly majestic. His body was lean as a pride runner, legs as long as the safari and the rest of him evenly toned. Sex appeal just rolled off him in abundance.

"Like what you see?"

Yami's eyes darted back up to find a twinkle in Atem's eyes that matched the mischievous tilt of his lips.

Yami's dark burgundy eyes returned the unspoken answer with a twinkle of his own, just as shameless and teasing. "I do, very much." He pushed off the door and approached. "Though I wish I could like it more in the bedroom."

It was Atem's turn to take in the regal figure before him. Tall, slender and impossibly handsome, Yami's appearance was one that deserved more than a mere glance. He exuded a relaxed, constant sway in his stride and a hidden danger beneath his aura. Yami was like rain before storm, mild and tame until flustered with a strong enough force to push him over the edge. Atem has seen the way men and women would appreciate Yami's German and Tanzanian heritage with open admiration, because he wore the light tanned skin well. It was a feeling Atem was all too familiar with because he too would marvel at the twenty seven year old with perverse intentions. Atem was wise and fast enough to snatch him up before someone else could pursue Yami and he never regretted a moment.

Yami sat on the edge of Atem's desk, legs gapped and hands resting between as he looked at Atem with a peculiar eye. "You're tired aren't you?"

"I am," Atem admitted, stretching his arms and settling back in his chair. "But there's no sleep for the lazy. Someone needs to finish up here if we're to have peace later. . ." He yawned.

"Poor thing," Yami chuckled.

Atem's eyes widened a smidge when he noticed the way Yami's tunic threatened to slip off his creamy shoulders.

When he glanced peering closer at Yami's face, the tint of red striking his face was uncanny. And his plan was so plainly obvious, that Atem couldn't resisting being lured into the trap. He reached out to rub the back of his calloused hand over the smooth skin.

"Oh my, you smell nice." He did. The scent of mango and tart kiwis seemed to filter in the room.

Yami's resolve almost shattered. The rough texture gliding over his skin felt like grazing needles

"You came to seduce me into bed?" Atem hummed.

Yami's fiery gaze met with cool lavender, before he scoffed. "I had no such intentions. If you would come to dinner every once in a while, maybe you wouldn't think I had to tempt you for sex."

Atem's fingers were finding Yami's skin more attention worthy then the brewing attitude. "Why don't we fix that now? I can spare a few minutes."

"A few?" Yami snorted and smacked the hand away when it hooked in his collar. "Is that all I'm good for now? Your company is so far and few, I hardly know the man I sleep with anymore. I feel like the bed sheets you tug on when you sleep and toss away when you wake."

Atem's face jerked back like a cobra stuck out at him. "You lie! I've never treated you so poorly."

Yami's shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. "Of course, you wouldn't notice," he grumbled softly. "Never mind. When will you come to bed?"

"As soon as I finish here, but don't change the subject." Atem stood from his chair and stepped up to stand between Yami's thighs. He rested his large palms on top of the thick muscles and squeezed, leaning into until they shared on breath. "Tell me what you're on about. I haven't neglected you. We were together a few days ago."

"You say that as if we spent the entire day together. You saw me for an hour before you were fetched by your father!"

"Ah, kulani*—"

"Don't you dare curse at me!"

"Then make sense!" Atem snapped back. "How do you expect me to keep this ranch together and tend to you like a child? You knew what you were getting yourself into when you accepted my proposal."

"All I'm asking for is a little of your time!"

"Don't start this nonsense all over again just because I was late to fuck you!"

Yami's eyes widened at Atem's words. His glare wavered before he looked to the side, gnawing at his bottom lip.

Atem's mouth opened and closed as if he could attract the words back into his mouth, but there was no turning back. Why did he always have to be so damn temperamental?

"Kinyesi*," Atem cursed reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Malaika*. I open my mouth and things come out without me thinking. Forgive me?"

Yami kept his head turned away, breathing a slow inhale and exhale.

A strong hand gripped his chin and tilted it up, forcing a now crimson glare to face the apologetic pleads of lavender. Atem edged his body closer, using his height to his advantage to tower over Yami's seated position.

"I'm sorry, Malaika," he whispered, using his other arm to wrap around Yami's waist, pulling him to the edge of the desk.

Yami's resistance melted in seconds. His hands came up and tentatively bunched in Atem's dark blue tunic and gently pulled. Atem gladly came forward, using his other arm to fasten around Yami's body.

"I'm sorry," Atem whispered once more, lips pressed into the shell of Yami's ear, who felt the baritone voice send quakes through his bones. Quiet apologetic words came between light butterfly kisses, very moist and very warm. A smothering tongue licked the curve of Yami's earlobe, dipping in and out.

Yami kept his moan at bay, not allowing a single sound to escape his lips because he wanted to sustain his grudge a while longer, but oh, it was difficult when your lover knew all of your sensitive spots.

Steering away from the savory neck, Atem moved in to take Yami's lips in a kiss. Red eyes slowly closed, relishing in the fire pooling in his stomach and the motion of thick lips moving over his. Tanned hands sought out his face to caress his cheek bones, his pointed chin and the dip of his collarbone. Yami's fingers weaved through Atem's slightly course hair, tugging him inward as his fervor escalated.

The pair simultaneously twisted their heads to the side, deepening the kiss; tongues swirling and greedily milking the flavors in their mouths. Tender and steadily growing heated, Atem's hands dropped as low as the surface of the desk, and cupped Yami's ass cheeks, roughly pulling him off. Sounds of lust, of desire and of impending sex noisily resonated in the room with wet slurps and hums.

Yami entwined his legs around Atem's waist and his arms around Atem's neck, a dark moan rumbling his chest. Atem answered the tenor with a deeper, animal grunt of his own.

"Damn," Yami hissed when Atem worked their bodies into sensual grind. His crotch roughly rolled against Atem's stiff dick, wringing a feral groan from the older man.

Atem's hand snuck inside Yami's tunic to palm his lightly scarred chest when a rough knock brought the pair from their intimate paradise.

"Son of a bitch," Atem broke the kiss first. He looked at the door, than at Yami's kiss swollen lips. He didn't debate about it three seconds before he went back to ravishing him.

Knock! Knock!

"Atem!"

"Ignore it," Atem softly said, nibbling Yami's bottom lip. "They'll leave."

Unfortunately, they didn't. The persistent knocking continued on until they transformed into loud, thunderous bangs.

Atem tore himself away long enough to bark, "Go away!" before gripping Yami's chin and forcing another tantalizing kiss on his lips.

"Atem, your father has sent for you. He says it's urgent!"

Yami breathlessly eased the kiss to a halt. "You better get that."

Atem smirk. "Believe me, I'm trying." His hot kisses left wet paths down Yami's neck.

"No, the door, go—stop it, Atem—go see what your father wants," Yami clawed at Atem's back when a velvety spot on his collar bone was sharply nipped with teeth. His grip on Atem's head tightened, and he responded by sinking his teeth deeper in the tender flesh. Atem cried out and ground his hips onto the lean body, but his plea was ignored

"Atem!"

"Go, just go." Yami forced Atem's face away in order to clear both their heads. The spell was broken. Their libidos were on fire.

And Atem was pissed.

Angrily, he set Yami on his feet and didn't bother to adjust his clothes because whatever ruffled appearance he had, he wanted the dumbass at the door to see what he'd just interrupted and what kind of punishment that sort of interruption entailed.

He gripped the doorknob and ripped it open. "What!" he shouted at the cowering employee. Atem's jaw tensed, teeth grating together like jagged glass.

The young boy gulped, soaked to the bone, shivering like a rat. "H-Heba has returned from security, Mr. Bello. The chief calls for you to his house."

"This couldn't wait?" Atem snapped. "Tell him to continue without me."

"I cannot sir. The chief says Saba is not to leave until Saba is with Atem." The scrawny young man puffed out his chest, knees buckling under the intensity of Atem's glare.

"Stop it, Atem," Yami sternly whispered said from behind, slender arms encircling Atem's waist from behind. "You needn't be so nasty to Saba. He was only doing as he was ordered," he said in a soft note that melt a degree of Atem's anger. Yami urged the young man to speak with a patient flick of his wrist. "What does the chief want, Saba?"

The young man, now knowing he had the protection from Atem's rage, beamed with bucked teeth and bright brown eyes. "Heba has come back with a man. Saba no know who he be. Someone near death they found with blood . . ."

Perhaps it was the lack of response the chief gave the young teen that made him pause midsentence or the wild way his eyes grew three sizes too big for his face and then narrowed to then slits. But what was clear, was the rage emitting from the older man in throes, tumbling off him in heated waves.

"Heba, did what?" Atem coldly questioned.

Kaka= Brother

mjinga= fool

Kidogo mjinga= little fool

kulani= damn

Malaika= angel

Kinyesi= shit