“Thank you, Zane,” he mimicked, grinning at me. When I blushed, he took my hand and brushed his fingertips across my knuckles before settling a kiss there. “I figured you’d be mad at me, so I brought these to make amends.”
It worked; I’d forgotten completely that I was pissed at him for the seduction stunt. But it had nothing to do with flowers. One smile from him, and I’d forgotten everything but the fact that he was gorgeous. That floppy lock of hair was falling over his forehead again, touching his eyebrow.
“I’m ready when you are,” I blurted. A blush touched my cheeks when I realized the double entendre.
He chuckled, a low, sensual sound that did terrible, wondrous things to my insides. “Glad to see it.” He still held my hand in his, his thumb caressing my skin. The feeling was carrying straight to unmentionable places on my body, and I was losing my sanity, fast. No doubt my eyes were blazing the hottest blue this side of the Caribbean.
I frowned as I realized something, staring into his dark, laughing eyes. “The red is gone.”
“Hmm?” Zane gave a gentle tug on my hand, pulling me into his arms. I went willingly. Actually, I shouldn’t say “willingly.” I should say “plastered my body against his and wrapped my arms around his neck.” All I could smell was the dizzy scent of blood and man and leather that made up Zane.
Zane’s hand came to rest on the curve of my lower back, reminding me that I had two guns strapped against my flesh and he wasn’t supposed to find out. I pulled away, an embarrassed flush heating my cheeks. “Your eyes,” I repeated. “They’re not red anymore.”
“No, they’re not. Unlike you, I have no problem with using others to satisfy a need, whether I like and respect them or not. Sometimes when the urge is upon you, anyone will do.” He shot me an oblique look, daring me to say something.
Offended, I stiffened and crossed my arms over my chest. So he’d gone and slaked his needs and left me hanging? Typical man. Typical
I opened my door and tossed the flowers inside. When I remained silent, he sighed.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
“Why do I need this?” I complained as Zane slid the burqa over my head and over my shoulders. The souvenir shop was hot enough without a heavy cloth covering me from head to toe.
“It’s for your own safety.” He smoothed the fabric down my body. “Nobody will look twice at you dressed in one of these; the way you were dressed was getting too much attention if we want secrecy.”
The burqa was designed to cover a woman from the prying eyes of men. This one was baby blue-a fashion choice, I assumed, since most of the others in the shop were unrelenting black. A thin mesh opening over the eyes allowed me to see out into the world. It was heavy and stifling, but I saw his point.
I sighed. “You should see the
He handed me a disposable camera. “Remy is an idiot when it comes to suitable clothing. That woman doesn’t have a practical bone in her body.”
As Zane paid for the clothing, I went to the shop’s door to check out the Cairo nightlife. The streets were lit up despite the early hour of the evening, and still crawling with people of all shapes and sizes. Directly across the street was an antiques emporium.
Several men waited outside the shop, young, rough sorts with dirty clothing, and ugly smiles. They sat casually in front of the store, talking among themselves. One began to clean under his nails with a long knife.
As I watched, one gestured at the door of the souvenir shop and said something to one of his companions. The bearded man shrugged, then made a chopping notion across his throat. The other men laughed.
My throat suddenly dry, I swallowed hard, then said, “Um, Zane?”
He appeared at my side. “Yes?”
“Those men out there-”
“So you see them now.”
I faced him. “What do you mean, ‘now’? Have they been there the whole time?”
He steered me away from the door, whispering against my fabric-covered ear, “Slavers. They’ve been following us since the hotel, doubtlessly tipped off by someone who works there. You’d fetch a fortune with that red hair.”
Slavery in this day and age? I couldn’t imagine being sold into a brothel-it was too TV-movie-of-the- week.
“What do we do now?”
Zane rubbed my shoulder comfortingly. “We go out the back way.”
I slid my hand into his and allowed him to lead me past the counter. “Back door?” Zane calmly asked the sales clerk.
The shopkeeper pointed one finger toward the far end of the store, saying nothing.
Zane’s smile flashed across his face. “My thanks, friend.” He laid a handful of bills onto the counter. “You didn’t see any American women in here.”
“Egyptian women only,” the shopkeeper agreed, his eyes bright at the sight of the money.
Zane led me into a dirty storage room, cracked open the back door, and glanced out. “We’re clear. Just an alleyway filled with garbage.”
He led me through the filth-strewn alley, the burqa flapping around my legs. “How did you get that wad of money you gave him?”
“Same way I got rid of the red eyes. You want details?”
Ugh. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
He chuckled. “Someday you’ll get over that charming squeamishness of yours, Princess-and that’ll be a shame.”
I snorted in disbelief. “If that means you expect me to dive into your arms at some point, forget about it.” But just speaking the words aloud caused my body to throb.
Zane led me through a maze of dark alleys and back streets. I had no idea where we were and clutched his hand. If I got separated from him I’d have no idea how to get back to the hotel, and the thought of being alone and lost in a city where I could be nabbed by slavers was first and foremost in my mind.
The vampire seemed to know where he was going. We hailed a cab and took a wild ride through the streets to the outskirts of the city. There, he led me through the maze of streets until we came face to face with a pair of camels standing in a dark courtyard. One looked over at me, chewing hay with a stupid look on its face. “Here we are,” Zane announced.
I hesitated. “Don’t tell me-our transportation?” A nondescript man stood between the camels, holding their bridles with an expectant look.
Zane grinned in the darkness, his white teeth flashing. “How’d you guess?”
“A lucky hunch,” I said, my voice muffled through the burqa.
Zane handed the man a wad of bills, took the reins of the first camel, and got it to kneel. “Ladies first.”
I sighed and stepped forward. “Don’t these things spit?”
Zane grabbed me under the arms and helped me into the saddle. “They do. Just don’t provoke it and you’ll be fine.”
His hands on me caused my banked desire to burn full-blown once more. I lost track of my thoughts and clung to the blanket-covered saddle with my knees as the camel stood again. “No provoking. Gotcha.”
As Zane mounted his camel with expertise, I focused hard on things other than the Itch. Kittens. Puppies. Bottled Water. Hamburgers. Ice cream. Licking ice cream off Zane’s hard, flat stomach-
My mental imagery needed a little work if I was going to stay calm and cool. Though he was a jerk sometimes, he had a boyish charm. Except for the room-entering incident, I suspected Zane was being courteous in his own way. He’d stopped when I’d asked him to stop, he was concerned with my welfare, and he’d been helpful. Either he was a genuinely good guy with a bad rap, or he had something up his sleeve.
Zane turned to look at me. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” If confused.
He tapped the rump of his camel with a crop. The camel lurched forward and began to head out into the
