The Panther & the Pyramid (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) Read Online Free
Author: Bonnie Vanak
face then rolled off, running for the window. With a hasty yank of the drape cord, sunlight flooded the room. He ran back, scanning her face.
Red-gold hair. Green eyes—not the blue eyes he'd imagined last night.
"Oh, God! It's you!" he rasped, his heart thundering in his chest.
The nightmare hadn't ceased, after all. It had only just begun.
Chapter Two
Caught. Fully awake, Jillian touched her hair in panic. He knew. He knew who she was! She stared at him with a plea in her eyes, and he backed away as if she were Medusa with snakes wriggling in her head.
"Please," she said, hating the tremulousness of her voice. "I can explain."
He jerked away from her, snatching his rumpled clothing from the floor. He shoved his legs into his trousers and fastened them, then donned socks and shoes.
She couldn't bear him running off like this—as if she were his worst nightmare and the sweetness and passion of last night did not exist. If he did, she'd truly feel what the experience of selling her virginity made her: a whore.
"Graham," she said in a stronger tone. "Look at me!"
He turned, thrusting his arms into his shirt. Anger shone in his dark eyes, turning them to chips of onyx. She shrank back. His voice was ominously quiet, controlled and more threatening than if he'd shouted.
"I explicitly requested not to be with a redhead. Any woman but a redhead with green eyes."
Bewilderment mingled with relief. He did not know her identity.
"I know," she admitted quietly.
His icy gaze riveted to hers, he went still. This eerie motionlessness scared her more than his previous anger. She clutched the sheet to her breasts.
"You tricked me," he said.
"I had no choice. All arrangements were made previously with Madame. I was desperate."
He moved with ruthless power onto the bed and seized her chin in one strong hand. The tender lover had vanished, replaced by a dangerous stranger whose iron grip held her captive. Her insides quivered in remembrance of those strong hands touching her with slow gentleness, rousing sweet fire. His fury frightened her, but she did not drop her gaze.
"Why were you desperate? Who are you?" he demanded.
"I needed money. I must remain anonymous. I dare not reveal my real identity."
He studied her. "You cannot hide being a well-bred lady. Do I know you?"
Jillian hoped he didn't hear the wild thudding of her heart. "Perhaps, my lord. We move in the same circles. So let us remain as we are now—two strangers sharing one night, faces in the dark. A memory best forgotten."
"Forgotten," he echoed. His gaze narrowed. "Damn it, I want to forget you. But bloody hell, I know I will not."
Then he drew her face to his and kissed her ruthlessly. His lips moved over hers, coaxing a response. Jillian released a frustrated sob and flung her arms around his neck, dragging him closer, needing his heat, his passion.
When Graham tore himself away, Jillian put a hand to her kiss-swollen mouth, longing tearing through her. How could one man make her feel this way? He aimed a look at her so piercing, it arrowed into her like a knife.
Gulping in a harsh breath, he said, "We must never see each other again." And grabbing his jacket, he whirled and left, slamming the door with such violence the hinges rattled.
Jillian was left alone, naked on the bed. A chill seized her. She was a whore.
In the Egyptian desert, he had been known as Panther, the silent cat that hunted prey alone. Never socializing with other warriors, never joining them around the crackling bonfires at night to laugh and exchange boasting tales of virility and fearlessness in battle. He'd stalked, keeping to the periphery of the fire's reddish glow, just outside the circle of men and light and warmth. Always hiding in the shadows, a nocturnal creature who hated and feared the night but ultimately could not resist it.
Like the panther, Graham was smaller than other predators but had powerful muscles that could strike an enemy with quick, killing
Red-gold hair. Green eyes—not the blue eyes he'd imagined last night.
"Oh, God! It's you!" he rasped, his heart thundering in his chest.
The nightmare hadn't ceased, after all. It had only just begun.
Chapter Two
Caught. Fully awake, Jillian touched her hair in panic. He knew. He knew who she was! She stared at him with a plea in her eyes, and he backed away as if she were Medusa with snakes wriggling in her head.
"Please," she said, hating the tremulousness of her voice. "I can explain."
He jerked away from her, snatching his rumpled clothing from the floor. He shoved his legs into his trousers and fastened them, then donned socks and shoes.
She couldn't bear him running off like this—as if she were his worst nightmare and the sweetness and passion of last night did not exist. If he did, she'd truly feel what the experience of selling her virginity made her: a whore.
"Graham," she said in a stronger tone. "Look at me!"
He turned, thrusting his arms into his shirt. Anger shone in his dark eyes, turning them to chips of onyx. She shrank back. His voice was ominously quiet, controlled and more threatening than if he'd shouted.
"I explicitly requested not to be with a redhead. Any woman but a redhead with green eyes."
Bewilderment mingled with relief. He did not know her identity.
"I know," she admitted quietly.
His icy gaze riveted to hers, he went still. This eerie motionlessness scared her more than his previous anger. She clutched the sheet to her breasts.
"You tricked me," he said.
"I had no choice. All arrangements were made previously with Madame. I was desperate."
He moved with ruthless power onto the bed and seized her chin in one strong hand. The tender lover had vanished, replaced by a dangerous stranger whose iron grip held her captive. Her insides quivered in remembrance of those strong hands touching her with slow gentleness, rousing sweet fire. His fury frightened her, but she did not drop her gaze.
"Why were you desperate? Who are you?" he demanded.
"I needed money. I must remain anonymous. I dare not reveal my real identity."
He studied her. "You cannot hide being a well-bred lady. Do I know you?"
Jillian hoped he didn't hear the wild thudding of her heart. "Perhaps, my lord. We move in the same circles. So let us remain as we are now—two strangers sharing one night, faces in the dark. A memory best forgotten."
"Forgotten," he echoed. His gaze narrowed. "Damn it, I want to forget you. But bloody hell, I know I will not."
Then he drew her face to his and kissed her ruthlessly. His lips moved over hers, coaxing a response. Jillian released a frustrated sob and flung her arms around his neck, dragging him closer, needing his heat, his passion.
When Graham tore himself away, Jillian put a hand to her kiss-swollen mouth, longing tearing through her. How could one man make her feel this way? He aimed a look at her so piercing, it arrowed into her like a knife.
Gulping in a harsh breath, he said, "We must never see each other again." And grabbing his jacket, he whirled and left, slamming the door with such violence the hinges rattled.
Jillian was left alone, naked on the bed. A chill seized her. She was a whore.
In the Egyptian desert, he had been known as Panther, the silent cat that hunted prey alone. Never socializing with other warriors, never joining them around the crackling bonfires at night to laugh and exchange boasting tales of virility and fearlessness in battle. He'd stalked, keeping to the periphery of the fire's reddish glow, just outside the circle of men and light and warmth. Always hiding in the shadows, a nocturnal creature who hated and feared the night but ultimately could not resist it.
Like the panther, Graham was smaller than other predators but had powerful muscles that could strike an enemy with quick, killing
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