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jackie ivie's all others
Sept. 9, 2015




Jackie Ivie's as long as
The Vampire Assassin League #28
by Jackie Ivie
October 29, 2015

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Sokar had been atop the world. Heir to a powerful pharaoh of the Middle Kingdom. Commander-in-Chief of the army. Hieroglyphs adorned temple walls with his many victories. Supremacy was his birthright. Wearing the double crown as ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt, his future. But betrayal took it all away.


Geena Bauman doesn’t have a life. She has a mission: Finding and eliminating threats to her nation’s security. She’s well-trained for whatever the job requires. Death is a viable option, even hers. She doesn’t need anyone, especially a man. She’s perfect for the job. Unemotional. No friends. No close family. No ties. No heart.


Tracking down terrorist cells gets Geena involved in black market dealings. Potentially stolen artifacts. Ancient Egyptian origin. Perfect condition. And carrying a curse. Geena’s not too concerned. She’ll do anything necessary. Besides, she isn’t superstitious. She doesn’t believe in curses.

Until a god of the dead shows up…



By all the gods!

He’d forgotten the exquisite impression of touch. He didn’t even recognize it. Not like this. Nor with this much intensity. The ability to receive stimuli through physical contact sent everything into a primal gut-clenching realm. It was powerful. Almost painful. Just clasping to his mate was akin to being sliced open by a weapon. Her kiss could slay. The taste of her blood was the annihilating force. It eroded his control. Even his fangs had elongated despite every intention to the contrary.

He’d been told about mating. The warning should have contained stricter words.

He was afraid of scaring her.


That was the lesser problem. Sokar grew more worried by the moment. Somehow, he must gain command over massive need that was mixed with unbelievable want. Find a way to rein back hunger that spanned millennia. Thwart flames of passion that grew to consuming level. Slow the size and breadth of desire that demanded he take her, cleave with her.

Possess her.

He’d been spinning with her in his arms. He forced the rotation to a halt. The room came back into view. A lightshow of sparks had been showering the room. They jumped about the floor before sputtering into nonexistence. It took a moment to decipher the source. The electrical outlets had exploded. Black spots marked the wall above each one.


The hesitancy in her voice was yet another projectile, aimed right for his reanimated heart. Then the sensation of her breath against his neck added further torment at her whisper.

“Enta habibi,” he whispered.

“You are my love?”

She translated it as a question. As if there was any doubt. Sokar threw his head back and laughed. And then he moved. They reached the bedroom before the echo of his voice even started. The coverlet had been turned down on her bed. It wasn’t enough. He ripped the comforter and top sheet off, leaving the bed surface covered with linen. He had his mate. Right here. Right now. He’d been dormant too many centuries. He wouldn’t allow anything to cover this. Filter it. Obscure it. He was shaking as he placed her atop the sheet. The mattress bounced.

And then he perched beside her. On his knees. Not touching. Just looking. His gaze devoured. Consumed. All sorts of alarms rang through his skull, in the event he needed more warning. The view was beyond heavenly. The dress she wore skimmed her form, outlining the tight nipples atop each breast before it grazed her slender waist...the swell of her hips. White satin molded to her curves as if it had been sewn just for him. In the event his long dormant-hunger needed more fuel.

At the thought, his restraint wavered. A monstrous surge of need slammed through him. Again. Sokar knotted his fists, pressed them to his chest, and hunched forward. Still, a howl of frustration escaped his lips. For almost four thousand years he’d been the epitome of strength. Power. Might. It was his whenever he needed. And at that moment, he realized it might not be enough.

“Hey. Big guy. Sokar?”

She didn’t sound afraid. She sounded...

Dare he hope?

Sokar lifted his head, narrowed his eyes, and fought against lunging for her; ripping the satin from her body; discovering every inch of her with his hands, his mouth, and his body. He tightened his muscles further. And still the force within him flexed. Flickers of fire-like pain hit his thighs. Arms. Buttocks. The fabric lining of his suit coat ripped. The bed rocked beneath them.


He croaked out the word. Even to him it sounded brutal. Desperate. On the verge of hopelessness. It was the best he could manage. He was amazed his throat worked. This was worse than any electrocution. And so much better.

“You all right?”

He shrugged. Something in his attire tore again, the sound loud.

“That looks like a very expensive suit.”


He managed a one word answer. The word was guttural. Rough-edged. Pained. His fangs dug into his lower lip. The taste of blood filled his mouth. Blurred his vision. Rocked him backward before he snapped back upright. And then she was in front of him, a hand beneath his chin as she forced him to face her. He touched his glance on hers, and swiftly skittered it away. Toward anything. The lamp. The pile of bedding. A whoosh of sound hit his ears, drowning out most of her words. He barely heard the last portion.

“...replace it.”

She wasn’t afraid?

She answered as if he’d actually asked it. “Not remotely. Intrigued, yes. Frightened? Not for a moment.”

Sokar jerked his head back to her, yet hesitated before moving his gaze to hers. She had such amazing eyes. Deep. Mysterious. They filled his vision. Looming large. All-encompassing...and everything stopped. Sound ceased. His breath halted. His heart seized up within his chest. For a brief span, he thought he might be finding out what it felt like to actually die.

And then she reached for the top button on his jacket.





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