Til Darkness Falls Read online

  Copyright

  Published by

  Dreamspinner Press

  4760 Preston Road

  Suite 244-149

  Frisco, TX 75034

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ’Til Darkness Falls

  Copyright © 2010 by Pearl Love

  Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  ISBN: 978-1-61581-675-0

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  November, 2010

  eBook edition available

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-676-7

  Dedication

  To my parents,

  who always encouraged

  their little girl to write;

  to April and Kris,

  who are awesome;

  and to all my friends who

  have been so supportive.

  Prologue

  Unto the ending of the world,

  When darkness falls

  And the sun shines no more,

  My love shall never falter.

  Tanis, Egypt

  945 B.C.E.

  PRINCE RAHOTEP, eldest son of the magnificent God-King Psusennes II, slammed out of the banquet hall, the false laughter of self-important old men ringing in his ears. His golden-brown eyes sparked with anger and frustration as he strode down the hall, eager to reach his room and escape his fast approaching fate.

  Damn my father and his gods-blasted politics.

  Tomorrow he would be forced to do his duty as the pharaoh’s heir and forsake all personal ambitions and hopes in order to save the kingdom. The Libyans, their neighbors to the west, were a powerful and persistent lot. General Sheshonq I had long been a threat, striving to extend his reach from the arid soil of his land towards the lush country protected by the towering shadows of the mighty pyramids. After many years of increased bloodshed and the threat of war, Psusennes II had bowed beneath the pressure, unwilling to see his lands plundered and the mighty river stained red with blood. Sheshonq I had wanted to bind the pharaoh’s vow of submission through marriage, and so Psusennes II had sacrificed his only son upon the altar of political gain.

  It was a shrewd maneuver, to be certain, but Rahotep could not find it in his heart to admire his father’s cleverness. He was still a young man, barely eighteen, and he found it hard to accept that he was being forced into such a repugnant situation. The next rising of the sun would see him locked in matrimony to Sheshonq I’s only daughter, the incomparable Hester, who had already taken the Egyptian name Hebeny as a sign of loyalty to her new country. She was soft in her speech, graceful in her manner, and her olive-skinned beauty was without equal.

  Yet Rahotep had remained unmoved upon their first meeting barely a week before. Her dark eyes, subtly lined with kohl, had seemed to him lifeless and cold. Hebeny had struck him as a spoiled girl, calculating and mean of spirit. Rahotep wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, for how could he calmly accept this onerous duty when he already possessed everything he could possibly want?

  The prince’s step quickened as he at last reached his private chambers. His personal guard opened the ornately carved doors—resplendent with the symbols of the gods and his own royal status—and his rebellious discontent calmed instantly as his gaze fell eagerly upon a slender form.

  “Pa’sheri.”

  Tiye looked up at the quiet salutation and smiled, his soft, brown eyes glowing in the candlelight as he looked upon his prince. The boy was slight in stature, though strong of limb from a lifetime of toil. His skin, which held the vibrant shades of rich, freshly turned soil—a legacy from his half-Nubian mother—reflected the flickering light of the tapers that were scattered about the opulent room. He had been born a slave and knew that he would die as such. Yet his heart was not mired in sadness, for he knew the blissful joy of shared love.

  “Mery,” Tiye replied. The endearment came easily to his lips, without causing a blush as it had oft done in the past. Little one. Beloved. Such were the names by which the prince and his slave were known only to each other. Tiye crossed the chamber, nimbly weaving his way among the rich furniture and appointments that filled the room. He laughed as freely as any sixteen-year-old boy might, elated as his lover caught him up in a pair of strong arms.

  Lips met and clung, and Tiye pulled back reluctantly after the passage of several heavenly minutes. Excitement at his love’s nearness quivered and hummed in his belly like the plucked string of an oud. Never did Rahotep fail to engender such a reaction within him, but as always, duty beckoned. Tiye grasped Rahotep’s hand and led him into the bath chamber before turning his attention to the richly embroidered shirt and blue-dyed calasiris that covered his prince’s muscular form.

  “How went the negotiations?” Tiye asked, keeping his tone neutral with effort. Hoping the familiar task might settle his nerves, he took care to fold the garments before placing them in the large cedar clothes-press sitting in a corner of the room. Ever since he had heard the first whispered hints of the pharaoh’s plans for placating the Libyan aggressors, his fretful gaze had been anxiously tracking Ra’s fiery passage across the sky. When they had finally come, the general and his daughter, Tiye knew he and his lover were living on borrowed time.

  “As well as my father hoped.”

  Rahotep sighed as he rubbed at tired eyes, the dark kohl lining them staining his fingertips. Glaring at the stain in annoyance, he used his clean hand to dislodge the elaborate headdress from his long, silky black hair. His golden gaze tracked Tiye to the large, sunken tub that graced the center of room, noticing the sudden stiffness in the youth’s movements. The slave boy knelt and poured a vial of fragrant sandalwood oil into the steaming hot water that filled the gold-lined depression. He had removed his modest cotton skirt in anticipation of bathing his master, and Rahotep found himself unable to resist the enticement of that sleek expanse of naked skin.

  Tiye started when he was suddenly pulled flush against the prince’s hard chest and harder manhood. The stiff length of flesh pressed into the furrow of his buttocks, seeking to become reacquainted with what had been so willingly offered time and again. Tiye allowed himself a moment’s indulgence, pressing the curve of his ass against his lover’s arousal. His own need rose eagerly in response as he felt it grow and lengthen against him. Groaning softly at the delicious tease, the prince leaned his cheek against Tiye’s head and rubbed against the short nest of tight, black curls before bending to press parted lips to the side of the boy’s long neck. Tiye closed his eyes and sighed as his hands fell to the arms wrapped around his waist, almost forgetting his duty as the older man sucked and nibbled at all of the sensitive spots he had spent the past several years charting.

  Rahotep growled in disappointment when the smaller youth pulled away, a flush apparent even beneath the dusky hue of his skin. Tiye stepped into the water, and the prince resisted playfully for a moment when the slave grabbed his hand to pull him into the tub, unconsciously seeking to lighten the mood between them. But heaviness crept back into t
he air even as the prince closed his eyes in gratitude as Tiye poured a generous measure of cleansing oil into his hair and began to work the long mass into a rich lather.

  “And you are definitely to be wed tomorrow?”

  The question caught in Tiye’s throat, threatening to choke him, but he needed to know for certain. If he had learned anything during his life of servitude, it was that it did no good to ignore whatever Fate might bring. Tiye gently massaged the prince’s scalp before shifting his attention to the tensed muscles in his lover’s shoulders. He was content for a while simply to trace his hands over Rahotep’s powerful body, watching as the water sluiced from the man’s bronzed skin. But when long minutes passed without an answer, Tiye reached out with a hand betrayed by the slightest of tremors and lifted the older man’s chin until he could look into his lover’s troubled eyes.

  “Please tell me.”

  “Yes.”

  The succinct reply cut like a knife into Tiye’s heart. He looked away as tears stung his eyes, but he controlled them resolutely, unable to claim any surprise at the gut-wrenching answer. It had only been a matter of time before his beloved took a bride, as he must. For the past three years he had been basking in a beautiful dream, but at last, the truth was no longer content to be neglected.

  He had been a scared, lonely child when he found himself appointed to serve the pharaoh’s son. Tiye had wept bitter tears when the pharaoh’s servants had come to his mother’s hovel in the slave village to take him away from her, his elder brother, and all he had ever known. Trembling with fear, he had gone to meet his new lord, but the prince’s bright smile of welcome had dazzled him. The ogre he had so dreaded was nowhere to be found. Instead, the young prince was by turns playful and kind, teasing Tiye when he lost the battle against his clumsy, growing limbs and giving him a warm chest against which to hide his tears when the absence of his family became too much to bear.

  Tiye fell swiftly and irrevocably in love, swept away by the wonder that was his beautiful master. One night, not six months after he had come into the prince’s service, Rahotep had caught him staring, his besotted expression unable to hide the adoration that had grown so quickly in his heart. But the prince showed no revulsion despite their common gender. By the grace of the gods, Tiye had found his impossible love fully returned, and they had spent the ensuing days lost in a blur of tender happiness and blistering passion.

  But now it was all to end. Tiye struggled desperately to hold himself together despite the shattering of his soul into a thousand pieces. Unable to speak, he turned away from Rahotep and moved to the edge of the tub. He tried to lift himself out of the water, but he was suddenly too weak. His prince would no longer be his alone. How would he survive knowing that his mery lay in the arms of another?

  There was no warning save a low, rumbling growl and an agitated wave of water rushing towards him. Tiye gasped as a pair of muscular arms hauled him into a punishing grip. Strong hands whirled him around until he was pinned by a fierce gaze that caused his heart to thunder in his chest. Tiye opened his mouth to speak, but whatever words he might have uttered were lost beneath the lips that descended upon his, devouring his will in a fervent kiss. Tiye moaned, his ribs creaking from the ferocious vice of Rahotep’s arms, but he encircled the prince’s neck just as desperately, pressing ever closer to his lover’s tall body.

  Rahotep pulled back only after Tiye had gone limp in his arms. When the younger boy opened his eyes, Rahotep fixed him with a turbulent stare, willing Tiye to heed him. “Do not doubt that I love you. Never doubt that!”

  The prince’s deep, commanding tone brooked no argument. For the first time, Tiye truly understood that this man, who had only ever filled his soul with joy and his body with sweet fire, would one day rule the most powerful kingdom in the known world. His blood sang with need as it rushed through his veins, sped by his pounding heart. So beautiful, his mery, his beloved prince. The older man’s tawny skin glistened in the candlelight, the smoothly shifting muscles in the arms holding him so close proclaiming his strength. Tiye knew that he would die the day that those golden eyes ceased to look upon him. And yet how could this closeness between them continue when confronted with the truth?

  “I do not doubt it, but—” His voice dropped to a whisper as the elegant image of his lover’s intended assailed him, taunting him with her cold perfection. “But we cannot continue on this way. You are to be wed, and I will have no further place in your life save as your devoted slave.” Tiye pushed futilely against Rahotep’s broad shoulders, voice cracking as his throat choked with unshed tears.

  Rahotep’s hold never slackened as the smaller boy struggled. He paid Tiye’s logic no more heed than he would a damselfly flitting along the shores of the Nile. “Nothing will ever replace you in my heart, my beautiful pa’sheri. Not pharaoh nor country, and certainly not a bride for whom I hold not the slightest affection. I go to this union like a beast to slaughter, powerless except to rail against my fate. But you will be my salvation, as you have always been.” With powerful grace, he lifted Tiye out of the water, holding him so that they were eye-to-eye. “Not even the gods themselves can keep us apart. I will love you forever.” Rahotep gazed lovingly at the wide-eyed boy as he laid him against the cool golden tiles and slowly closed the distance between them. “And I will keep you here and make love to you until you accept this as truth or the gods damn our souls to the underworld.”

  Tiye parted his full lips in welcome at the questing thrust of a bold tongue, intoxicated by the sweetness of his prince. Powerful hips pushed forward, obliging him to spread his legs wide in accommodation. The young slave moaned, his head falling back helplessly as Rahotep’s heavy arousal found his own swollen shaft. His body flamed with a sudden rush of exquisite heat, the aching flesh between his thighs straining upward wantonly to meet its fellow. Gentle fingertips brushed across his lashes, and a warm palm tenderly cupped his cheek. Tiye’s eyes blinked open, and he met his lover’s soft regard. For a long moment, they gazed at each other, the vast gulf of their disparate births reduced to nothing. With only the softly lapping water to bear witness, a promise was made, silent but no less solemn and binding for its quiet. If there were such a thing as Fate, if destiny truly did hold sway over the lives of men, then surely they were meant to be together. Surely not even death itself could separate them.

  “Until the ending of the world,” Rahotep murmured against Tiye’s lips, urging him to finish the lines of the verse they had formed together one starry night on the banks of the great river.

  “My love shall never falter.”

  Tiye gloried in his lover’s strength as the older man lifted him and carried him to the soft hide stretched before the glowing hearth fire. Clever lips and a wicked tongue nuzzled and nipped at the brown nubs on his chest, coaxing them into sensitive points as he writhed helplessly beneath the loving caresses. The prince delved between his legs to reverently worship his weeping shaft. “Mery!” Tiye cried, his voice growing hoarse in shouted appreciation of his master’s skill. He reached down with frantic hands to bury his fingers in the soft hair that brushed against the skin of his inner thighs and draped teasingly over his belly and hips.

  “No,” the young slave moaned as his body shuddered. “Please, do not… yesss!”

  Rahotep smiled at the breathy, contradictory pleas as Tiye’s shaft pulsed desperately against his tongue. The young slave’s moans sounded to his ears like the singing of Isis, which could drive men mad with its divine beauty. With a long finger, he probed the tender entrance revealed by the careless sprawl of Tiye’s slender legs. The prince groaned, his own manhood throbbing in response as soft flesh fluttered and clenched around his finger.

  Flashes of light sparked behind Tiye’s shut lids as the finger deftly caressing his inner flesh withdrew and the wet heat of an intrepid tongue took its place. As though trying to escape from his overwrought body, he twisted his torso around and pressed his flushed face into the rug, grasping fitfully at the so
ft wool as Rahotep licked at his sensitive flesh. Strong thumbs pulled the smooth globes of his ass apart, and Tiye began to spout incoherent prayers for mercy as his lover’s tongue swirled against his quivering ring before dipping inside to taste his hidden depths. A possessive hand took hold of his arousal, stroking it slowly with a sword-roughened palm. Desire pooled low in his belly before slowly spreading through his trembling limbs until his entire body was bathed in heat and sweat.

  Lost in the taste of his beloved pa’sheri, Rahotep lingered as long as he dared, but his body soon clamored with the need to claim what was his. Bracing himself with arms that shivered with weakness, he looked down at the boy stretched beneath him. Tiye’s smooth, dark skin glistened with the sweat of passion, glowing in the candle light. Honey-tinted eyes gazed at him adoringly, and soft, full lips parted with gentle pants, tempting him to partake of this sweet gift from the gods.

  Tiye wrapped his slim legs around his prince’s waist, drawing Rahotep forward into the cradle of his thighs. Rahotep’s manhood touched his lover’s sacred place, and it lengthened and hardened as it sensed the nearness of its treasured goal. He buried his face into the sweet curve of Tiye’s neck, inhaling the heady scent of clean sweat and heated arousal. He sucked gently at the long, vulnerable column, a primitive growl on his lips when he raised his head and saw the faint mark that he had made on the boy’s dark skin. Tiye’s dazed gaze caressed his face, and Rahotep answered his wordless plea with a soft kiss.

  “’Til darkness falls,” he whispered. Brown eyes warmed in understanding as he thrust himself forward into paradise.

  Tiye clung to his prince throughout the long, passion-filled night, knowing that it would be the last time they could be together so innocently. Tomorrow, his beloved would marry, and Rahotep’s new bride would usurp his place in his lover’s bed. As he slept in his prince’s arms, anguished tears slid down the boy’s face and into the solid warmth pillowing his head.