Ch 24

Panic.

Erik groped at the back of his neck. He first attempted to stop the flow of blood and to close the incision, but knew this would allow the poison to spread. He had seen men stung by scorpions twice in the rock quarry. Tourniquets cut off the flow of blood while the toxins were extracted from the wounds. He abandoned instinct and desperately tried to squeeze the venom from the wound.

It wasn't working. And he knew terror would only make it worse. The blood would flow faster and the venom would reach his heart within mere seconds if he went into hysteria. He had to stay calm, harness his breathing, and slow his heart rate.

Erik's eyes flashed through the room and saw hundreds of men staring back at him, all with faces drained of color and shoulders stained red. All of them were dying. All of them feared what the afterlife would bring.

Erik didn't know what else to do to slow the effects. Blood covered his hands, making his trembling fingers stick together. He felt for his knife again and considered cutting into the injury and purging the bad blood. Without being able to see what he was doing he was certain he would bleed to death.

He needed what was at the bottom of the bath.

Erik cast his eyes down and felt along the arched doorway. The room mocked him with another door at the eastern end that led into the palace corridors. He was free to leave her apartments and guaranteed death if he did.

"Join me, Frenchman," the Sultana said in her sultry whisper. He heard the gentle splash of water ahead as he stumbled into the darkened room.

Erik glanced up long enough to see her floating on her back, her dark hair spread out like a fan behind her. A gossamer-like curtain of steam rose from the perfumed water and surrounded her. In the torchlight she glowed like a golden goddess, with long legs and small breasts. Erik could see by her appearance alone why she was the Sultan's favorite wife, but as he stood with his fingers pinched around the incision he found nothing inviting or alluring about her. She was a Persian Circe withholding the only thing that could save his life.

"Give me the anti-venom," he pleaded, blood-covered hand extended. He continued to massage blood out of the wound with his other hand.

The Sultana turned belly-down and glided toward him. She ignored the desperate tone of his voice and continued with her cat-like movements. She rested her arms on the tiled ledge and pushed her mahogany hair over her shoulders. Months ago she had the builders install a sheet of glass above her bath so sunlight could sparkle on the water during the day and moonlight would cast a silvery glow on cloudless nights. With the torches behind her back, the shadows made her eyes colorless pits.

"If you want to survive the night you will join me at once."

Erik pulled his hand away from his neck and swallowed hard as his blood dripped onto the smooth marble floor. He was disoriented though not sure if it was from the toxins or his nerves. Nothing made sense, least of all why she would desire him in her bed or her bath.

Erik teetered forward until the toes of his shoes were at the very edge.

"Please," he whispered. He held his hand out and kept his eyes respectfully cast downward. "I've done everything you and the Sultan have asked. For three years—"

"For three years I have watched you. Since the day you came into employment here you have piqued my interest. You have been a rare delight."

"I'm a builder," Erik mumbled obstinately. He blinked slowly and took a step back from the edge.

The Sultana kicked her feet beneath the water, creating gentle waves. "Not many men catch my eye, Frenchman. I am a fickle woman. I take lovers when it suits me. Tonight, you suit me."

"I'm going to die," Erik breathed as he fell to his knees and sat on the cool floor. Her voice grew increasingly distant as each heartbeat took him closer to his death.

The Sultana smiled. "You've lost a lot of blood, though that will be the least of your concerns. Tell me, have you begun sweating yet?"

Erik glanced at her and then turned his eyes to the window. He wondered how far the palace physician was from the Sultana's apartments, but knew it would do him no good. Guards patrolled the gardens below her balconies. Within moments he would be seized.

"Your heart rate will increase, your stomach will churn, your vision will fail, and then….then it will not be very pleasant. You may suffocate if the original wound swells against your windpipe." She stood upright and waded through the hip-deep water, skimming the water with her fingertips. "If you do not comply, I will be forced to watch you asphyxiate. There are many more fantastic ways to die, ways that would please me immensely. It would be a shame to see you gasping for air."

Erik managed to unbutton his shirt and kick his shoes aside. He slid feet-first into the bath—trousers still on and shirt draped over his shoulders—and waded mechanically toward the Sultana.

"Where's the serum?" he asked.

The Sultana drifted toward him, rising to her feet once they were only a few feet apart. "It is lonely to share a man's bed with nine other wives," she said. Her hands slowly pushed the shirt back from Erik's shoulders, her long nails trailing down his upper arms, along his bronzed skin and corded muscles. "So many nights pass in which I am alone."

Erik averted his eyes and felt the warmth of her hands run across his chest. Her fingers combed through the dark hair and she exhaled on his skin. The sensation of her cool breath against his warm flesh gave him goose bumps.

"I've imagined what it would feel like to have you in my bed," the Sultana murmured as she stepped closer and placed her hands against his shoulders. She drew him to her, pressing his chest to hers until he felt the hardened peaks of her breasts crush against his body.

The pleasure he had expected from a woman's body did not emerge. He was being poisoned, dying slowly while she ran her hands along his ribcage and down to his stomach.

"In daylight you serve the Sultan, but in the evening you serve me," she said against his neck. Her left hand took hold of his right hand. She rubbed her thumb over his rough fingers and sighed. "I will find uses for you, Frenchman."

The Sultana guided Erik's hand beneath the water's surface and urged him to touch her.

"Please give me the serum," he whispered as his fingers pressed into her.

"Give me what I want," she sighed into his ear. "When I am satisfied, I will spare your life."

Erik drew his hand away but she took him by the wrist.

"What's this I see? You are a master of architecture, but a novice to pleasures of the flesh? How I love a new student."

Erik swallowed hard. The heat of the water and the loss of blood made him dizzy. The Sultana ran her damp hand against the back of his neck and dug her index finger into the dagger wound. She showed him the blood on her fingers and smiled.

"Life or death. The choice is yours," the Sultana purred as she placed his hand below her naval. "Life will more pleasurable for both of us, Frenchman. Come to me and I shall save you," the little Sultana coaxed.

"The venom—"

"Do as I say and I will give you the serum. Disobey me and I will watch you die."

He met her icy jade gaze and knew she was not bluffing. He was only a man, a body easily replaced in the quarries and in her bed.

"Allow me the serum now and I swear I will stay with you," Erik attempted to reason.

The Sultana raised a brow. She took his left hand and ran it from her neck down to her hip, trying in vain to arouse him. "You will stay with me or die."

Erik merely nodded. He heard many lurid stories told by quarry workers and carpenters over the years he had worked for the Sultan. He overheard tales of a woman's mysterious body from men all too willing to tell him the details of their trysts. He knew what little throbbing secret his fingers caressed that turned her even breathing to harsh pants.

The Sultana's fingers deftly worked to release the buttons of his trousers. She struggled, tugging at his pants but to no avail. Erik started to pull his hand away from her silky coarse hair but she caught his hand in hers.

"Don't stop," she said in a shuddering whisper as she released his wrist. "Don't you dare stop."

Erik did as he was told and continued the slow rhythm the Sultana had shown him. He listened to her breathing change while his eyes searched the bath's edge for a bottle of serum. There were several towels stacked near the steps leading into the water but nothing else.

She had hidden it from him.

The Sultana moaned low in her throat and spread her thighs wider. Her head tipped back and she released a spasm against his touch. With a smile of satisfaction she pulled his hand away and lowered into the water until she knelt before him.

"I need the serum. Please, Favored One, give me the serum," Erik begged. He was glad she had stepped away from him. His hands had started to tremble and the need to vomit was rising fast in the back of his throat.

One by one the buttons popped open on his trousers. The Sultana took his hand as she glided through the water and led him to the sunken steps. She stood again and pushed on his shoulder, forcing him to sit. Erik stared off into the distance knowing he could not do what she wanted from him. He felt the water lap up to his lower chest as she placed her knees on either side of his hips and ran her fingers through his hair, grinding her thighs against his legs.

Her caress made him shudder as she painted his shoulders and chest with his own blood, creating thin red trails along his skin.

"You are not aroused?" she questioned.

Erik refused to meet her eyes. He planted his hands against the smooth step where he sat. "I'm dying," he whispered. "I've done everything you have asked. Why are you doing this to me?"

"It is the privilege allowed to the powerful."

His lips parted but no words emerged.

The Sultana pulled his dagger from the water. "You dare arm yourself in my presence?"

Erik shook his head. "Please, I beg of you—"

"Begging is for the weak-minded and impotent. Even if there was an anti-venom available I would not give it to a writhing worm such as yourself."

"What?" Erik asked, his mouth agape in horror as she leaned into him.

"There is no serum," she said into his ear as she drew circles along his back.

Erik grabbed her by the hips and pushed her away. With his hand against the back of his neck he stumbled from the water.

"You've—"

"Deceived you," she said with a sly grin. "Just as you have deceived me."

"I've never done anything against you or the Sultan. You told me you poisoned me. Why would you do this?" Erik turned away from her and buttoned his pants again. Sharp, throbbing pain surged through the back of his neck where she had prodded the wound.

"Why are you so upset? I offered you what any man in this kingdom would give his life to have for one night. Yet you refuse my body. I thought the French were lovers but you are a naïve little toad, a worthless little rat unworthy of my time. You could have had the world for a night."

Erik took one of the towels on the edge of the bath and rubbed away each bloody fingerprint along his arms and chest. He couldn't bear to look at her, to meet her eye ever again. He never wanted to see her face again.

"I don't want it. I don't want anything from you."

"You dare insult me?" she asked as she sauntered from the bathwater. She put the blade between her teeth and turned from him, bending to retrieve her own towel.

"I wouldn't dare do anything," Erik muttered. He left his shirt behind and stormed toward the nearest door, pressing the towel against the back of his neck.

His dagger sailed past his head, hissing through the air like a steel bee. It hit a marble column and clanked to the floor.

"Your services here are finished, Frenchman," the Sultana seethed.

Erik stumbled blindly from the room, his vision failing as he recounted all that had happened.

Halfway down the hall he saw the daroga patrolling the eastern corridors. He flagged him down, shoes squishing, pants sticking to his legs.

"God in Heaven, what has happened to you?" the daroga asked. "You're half-naked and soaked to the bone."

"I know," Erik breathed. He turned a moment and glanced back to see if she had followed him. The towel slid down his shoulder and landed on the floor.

The daroga pressed his hand into Erik's arm and gained his attention. "You are covered in blood, my son, and your face is white as death. What happened to your neck?"

He shook his head, unable to catch his breath. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face again.

"Were you attacked?"

Erik glanced down at the bloodied towel and clamped his hand over the throbbing wound. His skin was tender, the laceration bruised from the force he had used to remove poison that was not there.

"Mr. Levesque?" the daroga questioned.

With a deep breath, Erik took the police commissioner by the shoulders. "Please, you must help me. I must get out of here tonight."

The daroga merely nodded. "Come with me. I have a friend from India. He might be able to help you."