Page 64 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
The words impacted him with unexpected force. In that simple statement, she'd revealed the oppressive burden which was her captivity, a millennia of being viewed as an object, a possession, a beautiful thing to be owned rather than a person to be cherished.
His body responded to both her vulnerability and her strength, desire flaring through him with an intensity that surprised him.
Instead of taking her offered hand, he rose to his feet in one fluid movement and lifted her into his arms. The action was instinctive, a need to show her that she was precious, worth cherishing. She weighed almost nothing, her immortal form deceptively delicate despite the strength he knew she possessed.
Tamira's smile bloomed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at his nape. "I like assertive men, and I find strength arousing."
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I don't need strength to carry you. You weigh next to nothing."
"Liar," she whispered.
As he carried her through the sitting room toward her bed, he was struck by the trust and acceptance she was showing him.
Her bed was luxurious, with soft fabrics in cream and gold that looked like clouds made solid. The windows on the side facing the inner courtyard would have shown stars if they weren't deep underground. Instead, clever lighting created the illusion of moonlight, bathing everything in silver.
He laid her on the crisp cream-colored linens with careful reverence, struck anew by her beauty. Her dark hair spread across the pillows, creating a striking contrast. The deep blue of her dress made her golden skin glow, and her eyes, those impossible, ancient eyes, watched him with a mixture of desire and something else. Was it hope?
Perhaps.
She was so stunningly beautiful that she seemed almost unreal, like a painting or a statue created by a gifted artist or a goddess from myth. The perfect arch of her brows, the sensual curve of her lips, the elegant line of her throat—every feature was in flawless harmony.
And somehow, impossibly, she wanted him.
He thought of all the males who must have shared her bed over the centuries, all chosen for their resemblance to Navuh, all more handsome than he. What could he offer her that they hadn't?
"Are you going to just stand there and stare at me?" she asked, but her tone was teasing rather than impatient.
"I could do that forever," he murmured. "You are like a work of art. Nature's work of art."
Something shifted in her expression, a shadow crossing her face. "Not really, but I don't want to talk about this tonight."
The response puzzled him. What could she possibly mean? He studied her more closely, looking for signs of artifice or alteration. In his experience, some people chose to modify their appearance, especially those with means and vanity. But the harem seemed frozen in an earlier time, and he doubted such modern interventions were available here.
"What do you mean? Did you have any part of your body altered?"
Tamira laughed, but her laugh held a note of bitterness beneath the amusement. "Of course not. Even if I wanted to, immortal bodies are impossible to alter. I can't even pierce my ears to wear earrings. Coloring my hair and applying cosmetics is the best I can do to change my appearance." She paused, her hand rising to her throat in an unconsciously protective gesture. "I am a descendant of gods, and I suspect that their perfection was carefully bred. It could not have been natural selection that led to such results."
Had she meant perfect pairings to create beauty? Or had it been something more sinister than that?
Her hand slid from her throat down to her cleavage in a deliberately sensual movement, redirecting his attention from dark thoughts to present desire. "Come join me, Elias."
"Let me dim the lights first," he said.
A knowing smile played on her lips. "Are you shy?"
"No, but I'm a romantic, and this room is too bright for a romance." He walked to the light switches near the door, using the journey to compose himself. The room plunged into darkness, but not entirely.
His night vision was excellent, another gift of his immortality, and he could see her perfectly despite the low light. But even without that, he could have found his way to her by the soft glow emanating from her eyes, a sign of her godly heritage that probably manifested strongest in moments of passion.
Her blue eyes glowed like two precious jewels, guiding him back to her.
"You should know that I can see perfectly in the dark, so you can't hide anything from me," she said.
"That's good to know."
It complicated things.
His body bore a mark that would raise questions.
