Revealed

command!” When he just stood there, statue-like, she raised the dagger and touched it to his chest.
    His intake of breath was sharp, but he didn’t move, didn’t look away from her.
    Neferet had smiled, though she’d made her voice sharp, cruel. “Obey me!”
    “Yes, High Priestess.” His voice had gone deep. He raised his hands, pressing his wrists together.
    Neferet wrapped the leather strap around them, tightening it until she could see that it was uncomfortable. Artus’s breath was coming fast. Sweat began to bead across his ebony body.
    “Good, but you didn’t obey me quickly enough. I must punish you, but only if you beg me to.”
    Their eyes met. In his she saw shock and then understanding and desire. “Please, Neferet, punish me,” he begged.
    She had been happy to comply.
    In her den, Neferet’s body warmed in remembrance at how she had punished him. She had been mounting Artus, imagining herself as an ancient goddess mounting a sacrificial bull, when Alexander had found them. He’d cried out her name, sounding like a heartsick schoolboy. Utterly in the throes of ecstasy and pain, she’d whirled from Artus to face Alexander, and dropped the barriers she’d fashioned between them.
    “See who I really am! See what I really think of you!”
    Her emotions had battered Alexander. She remembered how colorless his face had been when he’d sobbed and fled the field house.
    Almost as colorless as it had been when he’d been found the next day after he’d fallen on his sword, ending his miserable, boring life.
    She had had to pretend public heartbreak, of course, though not for the first, nor last time in her life. She fabricated a story that portrayed Alexander as a disturbed young Warrior. She’d sobbed and said she had accepted his oath because she’d believed in her ability to heal him. Her concern for his unstable emotions was why she had been spending so much time at the field house—why she had insisted she lead the Warrior Prayers.
    The High Council had responded with compassion, praising her for her attempt to heal one who had been so obviously broken. That hadn’t been a surprise. Neferet was adept at manipulating High Priestesses. Artus’s response to Alexander’s suicide
had
been a surprise.
    She’d gone to him the next dawn, cloaking herself in darkness and sneaking into his chamber. He had utterly rejected her. His words had been respectful, but she had seen within him.
He had been disgusted by her.
    Neferet had cut through his subterfuge as cleanly as she had his skin.
    “Tell anyone why Alexander really killed himself, and I will explain in detail to the High Council about your need for punishment. You know what they would do. That’s why you hide your desires with human prostitutes, paying for their silence. Should they discover you, the High Council would, correctly, believe your need affects you as a Warrior and dismiss you from your post.”
    “You are utterly devoid of compassion.” Neferet never forgot the loathing in his voice.
    “We each wear our masks, don’t we? Keep my secret and I will keep yours.”
    Neferet had left San Clemente Island the next day, immediately after lighting Alexander’s pyre. The High Council had been understanding and compassionate. Of course she should return to her House of Night immediately. The loss of an Oath Bound Warrior was life altering for a High Priestess!
    Artus had remained silent.
    One year later Neferet heard how shocked the High Council had been when his body had been found floating in the Grand Canal. There had been no sign of violence on his body, only his many scars. Apparently, he had drowned himself. Neferet had smiled at the news.
    Alone on the return voyage Neferet had fallen into despair. She’d begun to believe that there would be no male, human or vampyre, who could possibly be her equal. Her despair had grown greater as she drew nearer the end of her voyage. With the ocean, waves of Neferet’s emotions had surged before her, washing against the shoreline, penetrating the ground and soaking across the land.
    That was when the dreams had begun. She had dreamed she’d been wrapped in power, folded into greatness, cherished beyond pain and pleasure.
    “No mortal male could be your equal because you deserve to be mated to a god!”
his beautiful voice had whispered, and Neferet had begun listening.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Zoey
    “Ah, shit. She looks worse than I expected.” Aphrodite said.
    “Yeah, she does.”