the doorway, they were the same height.
“Yes?”
“You take my breath away with your beauty. I...cannot think. What was the question again?”
She flashed him a quick smile and started down the steps toward him. She was so regal! She’d make a perfect Great Wife. He waited until she neared, his breath held the entire time. But once she arrived and stood before him, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He eased his breath out. Her glance touched on his but she quickly looked away. Rose-shaded blush touched the tops of her cheeks. The reaction was immediate. And vicious. His canines tingled and began lengthening. Heat sparked into being within him, waking his loins. He actually stirred. And then hardened. Thank the gods he wore a Pharaonic starched kilt. A woven gold belt encircled his hips and fell down his front. That bit of design was fortuitous. It helped shield the obvious sign of his reaction to her.
Just her.
He was so lucky!
Sokar nearly flung his head back and gave vent to the wonder filling him. But that would never do. She didn’t know, yet. She hadn’t agreed. She was so young. Infinitely precious. Yet so skittish. He didn’t dare tell her about mating yet. He needed to win her trust first. And that would take time.
Odd . He’d always thought time was on his side.
“Your hair.”
Sokar frowned slightly. “My hair?”
“It’s longer.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“How is that possible?”
“When you become a—.”
“Don’t say it.” She interrupted him. “That’s a ground rule. Remember?”
This was a conundrum. How to explain without mentioning vampirism? Sokar considered her for a long moment, his mind whirling. He finally nodded.
“Physical appearance can be altered, but it does not stay. Upon arising, anything done will be undone.”
“Right. Let’s say that’s true. But...that’s kind of odd. I always thought ancient Egyptians were clean-shaven. The wall art certainly says so.”
“You are correct. It is rather amusing, actually. In life, I was always as you say. And yet, I’ve spent millennia since like this.”
She had an eyebrow lifted. She didn’t look convinced. He decided to try and explain.
“I was on a war campaign. We didn’t bother with grooming. Especially, during the victory march back home. I was...overly exuberant. That is how my brother managed to get into my tent and past my guards. Because I allowed it. He brought greetings. Figs. Beer. And a knife with an Ethiopian blade. Extremely sharp. Deadly. It takes a long time to die of a knife wound. No one shaved me during that time, either.” His voice hardened as he described Merneptah’s perfidy. It didn’t seem possible. Not after all these years. Reanimation brought back ancient treachery? And made it rankle?
Oh. He’d made a grave mistake. She’d moved back a step. His words may have made the gulf between them even wider. Sokar looked away. Over her head. He set his jaw next. A canine dug into his lower lip. He sucked on the wound. Tightened his muscles. And somehow kept a groan from sounding.
“Wow,” she finally said.
“Forgive me. I do not wish to frighten.”
“Oh. Don’t worry. You don’t scare me.”
He flashed a glance toward her. It might be true. He didn’t know her well enough, but she didn’t look remotely worried. She actually had an even more skeptical appearance to her.
“Do you wish to hear more?” he asked.
“Sure. Why not? It’s great bedtime story material.”
His eyes narrowed. He didn’t move his gaze from hers. “What do you wish to know?”
“Hmm. I don’t know. How about the war campaign stuff? Explain that.”
“I was commander-in-chief of the army.”
“At twenty-five?”
“No. Eighteen.”
“They made you commander at eighteen?”
“Yes.”
“No way.”
“Maturity was a different matter back then. I’d been considered a man for years. Being in charge of the army was my birthright. And my duty.”
“It was your duty to go kill other