Page 81 of Beyond the Ruby River
“I will not say that!” This time Daka did stamp his foot, what was left of it anyway. He’d begun to fade. The pull of his physical form impossible to resist. “Summon me again soon. I will come.”
As the room disappeared from view, Mahu’s mournful expression was the last thing he saw.
In a span of heartbeats the prickly damp soil of the riverbank itched his back where his body had been resting. Egypt’s warm yellow sun beat down upon his skin, dry now, as he’d been gone that long.
Daka rocked over to hands and knees, and the great gaping wail that had been threatening finally tumbled from his throat. He wept for all the years they’d lost, for death visiting Mahu once more, for his own inability to do anything to help.
Naked and sobbing on the bank of the mighty Nile, Daka felt helpless as a leaf in a windstorm.
23
Mahu
Slipping in and out of fevered sleep, Mahu had lost the ability to keep track of time. Surely nights had passed since he’d accidentally summoned Dakarai—maybe even weeks. Perhaps he was fooling himself believing it was an accident. Though hardly in his right mind, he’d called for Daka as if he’d needed the incubus for his next breath, and by some miracle, Daka had come.
Or, part of him had. His spirit made the ethereal journey all the way from Egypt to Bran Vigny Castle—the place Mahu had called home for over three hundred years. At this rate, these stone rooms would be his last home. His mind was slowly giving way to madness. Dementia crept into the dark corners of his brain like mice hidden behind the walls.
When Daka had stood next to his bedside, whispering words of longing, Mahu could think straight. Without Daka’s bright presence, Mahu felt lost.
He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t summon Daka again. He wouldn’t be that selfish. Mahu would leave his lost love in peace and face death alone this time. He wouldn’t ask Daka to watch him suffer. Not again. He should never have let him do it the first time.
Old memories. Old regrets.
But as Mahu’s body grew weak, so too did his resolve. His dreams were filled with nothing but Dakarai: Daka’s skin glowing golden in the sunlight, his dusky blue eyes sparkling with joy, his hard cock between Mahu’s thighs as he rocked himself to completion. All his hours—awake or asleep— were consumed by his demon.
Whether Mahu meant to do it or not, he called for Daka again. He called from the depths of his soul, and Daka answered.
The hazy, spiritual form of Daka hovered by Mahu’s bedside. Eyes flooded with concern, Daka reached for Mahu’s hand, but there was no substance with which to touch. His body lay somewhere in Egypt. Still, Mahu felt a pleasant flutter of cool air on his fingers at the sweet gesture.
A weak smile tugged at Mahu’s lips. “I’m glad you came.”
“You aren’t an easy man to forget,” whispered Daka.
Already, Mahu breathed easier just knowing Daka was beside him. He’d always assumed Daka had forgotten him long ago, after that last letter. Daka had never written again, and Mahu refused to interrupt his life. “Neither are you.”
Daka lifted a dark brow. “I’m not a man.”
Mahu waved that away. “Demon then.”
Daka coiled his tail around his waist as was his habit. Mahu wished he could hug Daka himself, maybe run his fingers along the familiar ridges of the extra appendage. Tease his nipples to hardness and watch him writhe for more.
Daka’s expression changed. His head tilted, black hair falling across his forehead.
Mahu longed to brush the silken strands behind his ear.
“Do you hear that?” Daka asked, his voice turning animated. “Vampires approach.”
Mahu listened but heard nothing. His senses weren’t what they used to be, dulled by sickness. Half the time, he couldn’t tell the difference between reality and dreams. Was Daka really here, or was Mahu talking to himself?
Daka gasped. “I must go.”
“No, don’t.” Mahu struggled to sit.
Daka leaned in, his eyes darting to the door then back to Mahu. “Shh, they’re coming to help. Lie back.”
“Don’t leave,” Mahu begged, but Daka’s handsome form shimmered, threatening to vanish. “Please.”
Daka’s gaze turned brutally serious. “Next time we meet, it is you who must come to me.”
