Page 16 of Over the Emerald Valley
CHAPTER6
Temaj
TrustingSolon to keep his promise and request him again this evening, Temaj sat at his vanity to prepare. He’d already completed the most sensitive tasks in hopes Solon would take him to bed for a purpose. Now he had to decide on paint and jewels.
Though Solon had claimed to have no preference, Temaj’s bare face had done nothing for him, so tonight, he would decorate.
With a mirror in hand, he studied his complexion in the polished gold surface. Big brown eyes stared back. He pushed his hair behind his ears and tilted his face this way and that. Perhaps some kohl around his lids with darker eyebrows to match. And green powder on his lids to accent the emerald collar around his neck.
Yes. That would do nicely. Enough of a change to gauge the general’s response, but not so much as to appear overdone. He had a feeling that would backfire.
With a light dusting of powder to his cheeks and neck, he called that done and moved on to selecting from his jewelry. Kept in an ornate wooden box with a painted carving of Amun-Ra upon the lid, his collection was extensive. Jewels sparkled: emeralds inlaid in gold, but also garnets, pearls, and lapis lazuli.
Temaj ran his fingers over the treasures, earned for his service, his beauty, his willingness to submit. Mixed feelings tumbled in his gut. Pride at his skill set, his ability to capture strangers within his thrall and tease out exactly how to best please them. But also doubt, with its creeping tendrils invading the more pleasant emotions. Doubt that he could continue forever. Doubt that the next man would want him. And the next one after that.
Already he had Solon refusing to bed him, which played tricks on his confidence. But the look in the general’s eyes—the lingering stare of a man who wanted what he saw—had told him otherwise.
He tapped his finger on the emerald collar. What would Solon prefer? Perhaps just this piece and no more. No rings, no bracelets, no clutter, simply one beautiful necklace, a green skirt to match, and leather sandals that laced needlessly but oh-so-sexily to his thighs.
Decision made, he dressed for the evening.
Seli slipped in as he was tying the penultimate knot behind his knee. “You look lovely,” she said with a warm smile.
“Thank you, but unfortunately, it’s not you I need to impress.”
She sat on a lounge across from him. “If your general doesn’t find you lovely, then his eyes aren’t working properly.”
“You’re kind to say so, but it’s not his eyes I need to convince.”
“What kind of man doesn’t take a concubine when offered?”
Temaj gave a one-shouldered shrug. “A proud one.” It was both true and not the whole truth at once.
Though the general was a proud man, it wasn’t his pride keeping him from Temaj. Some inner belief had been behind the denial. A memory? Some other slave, some other time, some rule he’d made for himself that Temaj hoped to coax him to break.
“Do you think the other soldiers will be invited into the palace?” Her voice held a note of concern. “Given one of us, perhaps?”
Temaj rose from his seat, joined her on the lounge, and tucked one leg beneath the other. “I doubt it. The fuss was made for Solon because he’s an army general. The other men are common soldiers. Abasi doesn’t need to impress them.”
Seli let out a breath and leaned in closer.
Temaj wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Not in the mood to entertain tonight, my little chickpea?”
She flicked him in the ribs for the silly pet name she pretended to hate but which they both knew she actually enjoyed. “Not particularly.”
“Something got you down?”
“Not down, just…” She slouched further into his hold. “Maybe tired of catering to desires that aren’t my own. I’d rather stay in with Met. You must think me old and boring.”
“Of course not. You are neither.” For if Seli was old, that would mean Temaj would be old next, and he couldn’t have that. “And you’re in love with Met. Men who are not Met now fall short in your eyes. If I were in love, perhaps I’d feel the same way.”
She laughed. Not a small laugh either; she chortled like a jackal. “You wouldn’t, you ravenous sphinx. There aren’t enough generals in the world for your appetite.”
That was true enough. Temaj liked sex. All kinds of sex. In every way. Contorted in any position imaginable and plenty of positions improbable. He wasn’t picky. His place in the palace was by no means a hardship. “But so far, I don’t even have one general.”
“You’ll win him over. I don’t doubt your charms.”
Temaj grinned. “Of course you’d say that. I’ve already won you over. It was no harder than trading my candied licorice for your lentils at mealtimes. Done. Best friends for life.”
