Free Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt) by Veronica Scott

hunt or fish for their dinner?
    “All right, you can turn around now,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
    He pivoted on the tree root. Nima stood swathed in the Hyksos cloak, having tied it right above her breasts and knotted it at the knees so it wouldn’t drag on the ground. The blue dress was neatly spread out on the grass to dry, her undergarments nearby. She shook the glossy curtain of her ebony hair. “Being clean is so luxurious after days as a prisoner and then being on the run. Your turn now.”
    He stood up, letting his own cloak fall to the ground behind him and kicking off his sandals, and strode to the edge of the water. With relief he unfastened the scratchy Hyksos kilt, tossing the garment aside in a heap. I wish those barbarians could make civilized clothing. “The loincloth is next,” he warned.
    Blushing, Nima moved away, strolling over to the nearest bank of red flowers. “Take your time.”
    He walked naked into the water, enjoying the sensation as small waves lapped against his body. I wish we could have shared this. Reaching the point where the bottom dropped away, Kamin made a shallow dive and came up on his back, floating lazily for a few moments. The sky above was pure blue, no clouds. Like a painting, not the real sky. Had the sun moved at all in the time they’d been here? He rolled over and swam rapidly to shore, cutting through the water with his aggressive strokes. Where’s Nima? He scanned the bank in both directions but didn’t see her. Alarmed, he left the water, reaching for his clothing.
    As he was fastening the kilt’s knotted belt, he called for her. “Nima?”
    There was no answer, but he heard singing in the distance, off to the left. Barefoot, he headed rapidly toward the sound. The trees grew more thickly the farther away from the lake he jogged. He met other game animals placidly grazing, none of whom were frightened by his passing, at most raising their heads to watch him stride by. He could hear snatches of a song she was singing, and finally he caught a glimpse of her brown cloak when she walked through a patch of sunlight. Quickening his pace, he caught up to Nima, grabbing her hand.
    She stopped humming but swayed to and fro, as if temporarily pausing in a performance. “What’s the matter? Did you enjoy the bath?”
    “Why did you wander away from the lake?” he demanded, swiveling his head to see how far they’d come. Even with his acute vision, he could barely see the blackness of the tunnel opening in the distance. “What if you’d gotten lost? How would I have found you?”
    “It’s so beautiful here. I was admiring all the different flowers, and each time I found a new variety, I noticed even more attractive ones farther down the path.” She offered him the blossom in her hand, a bloom the size of his fist, the center purple, petals lightening to palest pink at the edges. “This one was by far the most striking.”
    “Like a jewel,” he agreed. “Or a hair ornament.” The rich, spicy scent filled his nostrils. And what was I so worried about? She’d only been picking flowers. No harm had come to her. Taking the astounding blossom, he placed it in her hair above her ear, then bent to kiss her.
    She parted her lips as he ran his tongue lightly over them. He deepened the kiss, molding her body to his, his cock straining the fabric of his loincloth, pressing insistently against her belly. Moaning, she rubbed her pelvis against him. Her breasts under the thin cloak flattened against his bare chest, her nipples hardening in arousal. He brought one hand up to caress her breast. “The velvet petals of the flower can’t compare to the softness of your skin,” he murmured, lost in a sensual overload, stroking his palm over her budded nipple.  
    The grass was so thick underfoot, like a mattress. Why don’t I take her cloak off and spread it out for us to lie on? Then we can make love in comfort. He reached for the knot she’d tied at the top, and