She was driving him insane.
Her body writhed against his, flush and warm, and his mind splintered to a single feral instinct — pull her closer, claim her, never let her go
She whimpered into his mouth as their tongues tangled, and the sound tore a groan from his chest.
Who would believe this was the same woman from the fighting pits? The same ruthless champion who broke bones without blinking?
And yet here she was — melting against him, kissing him like she might starve without it.
Like she needed him.
The small, helpless noises she made low in her throat sent heat spiralling through him, sharp and unbearable.
I'm tired of fighting this.
Her words echoed in his mind, bright and fragile and miraculous.
Something final settled in his chest — the quiet knowledge that there was no world now where she did not belong to him.
He pulled back only enough to look at her.
Her lips were swollen. Her arms looped loosely around his neck. When her eyes fluttered open, heavy with want, a faint blush coloured her cheeks before she glanced away.
Gods.
She had no idea what she did to him.
His hands slid down her sides, slower now, reverent. Mapping. Learning.
She gasped softly, eyes snapping back to his.
That sound nearly undid him.
His palms traced the strong curve of her hips, then lower, lifting her easily as though she weighed nothing at all. Her eyes seemed even more golden when he touched her.
A groan tore from his throat.
Adrenaline thundered through his veins as he carried her back until stone met her spine. His grip tightened on her thighs.
This time, he kissed her first.
Not gentle. Not patient.
Certain.
Her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, drawing him closer, locking him there. His hands pressed her to the wall like he was afraid the world itself might steal her away. His heartbeat hammered against her chest, so hard she must feel the rhythm through his ribs.
A breathless gasp left her —
Not desire. Something else.
He stilled instantly. His grip loosened.
Following her gaze, he turned.
And froze.
At the far end of the temple, beyond a break in the stonework, something shimmered.
Green.
A vast field stretched outward, endless and drenched in gold sunlight. The grass glittered as though dusted with starlight. Mist curled low along the earth, thin and dreamlike.
Impossible.
Like a mirage born of thirst and prayer.
Still holding her, he buried his face briefly against her shoulder, breathing her in, trying to steady himself.
"By the Gods… Atem," she whispered. "Are you seeing this?"
His body shivered.
"Mmm," he muttered against her skin, unable to muster anything coherent.
Under any other circumstances, a sight like that would have stolen his breath.
But right now?
She'd said his name. Soft. Breathless.
Like it belonged to her.
The sound brushed his skin like a touch.
He loved it.
Loved it far more than he should.
Not Pharaoh. Not Your Highness.
Just Atem.
Just hers.
And he wasn't entirely sure he liked how easily desire overruled reason.
She smirked when she heard the frustration in his voice. He didn't even try to hide it.
Before he could react, she slipped from his arms and landed lightly on her feet, already moving toward the field.
Something about it tugged at her chest.
It felt familiar, yet strange all at once. Like returning home after a lifetime away.
Cold air rushed in where his warmth had been. She glanced back.
He stood against the wall, arms crossed. The scowl on his face spoke volumes.
The sight made her laugh.
Boldness — new and reckless — bubbled up inside her.
"Coming, Atem?" she called, voice lilting. "Or are you going to let me escape?"
She tilted her head, smiling over her shoulder.
"I'll make you a deal: if you can catch me, I'll grant you one wish. Anything you want."
His scowl shattered into a wolfish grin.
Her stomach flipped.
And she ran.
Laughter tore free of her before she could stop it — bright and wild and young.
Gods. She would do anything to see him smile like that.
Even if it was only here. Only now.
Only in this forgotten place.
She would steal this moment and keep it.
Surprising strength was her biggest asset, but uncanny speed came as easily as breathing.
If Atem really wanted her like she hoped he did, she would make him work, and it would be fun.
And he chased.
Relentless.
She slowed just enough for his fingers to brush her waist — then darted away again, shrieking with delight.
Mist coiled around their ankles as they crossed the threshold, cool as river water. The desert heat vanished behind them.
They kept running, her hair blowing wildly behind.
The air smelled different here.
Sweeter. Alive.
The land rose and dipped like breathing earth, real and solid beneath her feet.
And then she saw it.
A tree. Massive and ancient.
She slowed to a halt.
Wait…
The tree looked as though it had burst from the land. Its roots gave shape to the surrounding hills.
Someone stood beneath it. Watching the endless horizon.
Keep moving, the wind whispered.
Come home.
Her foot moved – then arms closed around her.
"It seems," Atem panted against her ear, "I've caught you."
She barely heard him.
A moment later, his breath came back. "Zahra, what are you looking at?"
"That person," she murmured. "By the tree."
She felt his confusion.
"I see no one, just an exceptionally large tree."
Her pulse skipped.
"You truly can't see them?"
He shook his head as he scanned the distance.
Keep moving. A floral and sandy breeze called. Go to him. Your Pharaoh cannot comprehend what stands before him; he cannot see.
"But why?"
This is the way, the winds murmured.
Their voices were louder here, as clearly as if they were standing right next to her.
A hand took hers, fingers interlacing.
"Let us go and see," he said.
The closer they came, the more her breath faltered.
It wasn't a person.
He was vast.
Towering. Powerful.
Golden fur caught the sunlight like sand. A heavy mane framed a face both regal and terrifying.
A lion made divine.
Maahes.
The name settled into her bones like memory. She couldn't quite understand this feeling of butterflies in her stomach.
"So," he rumbled, voice deep as distant thunder, "you have opened your eyes."
"How can he not see you?" she asked quietly.
"He does not belong to this place," Maahes said. "He can hear me, but he will not be able to look upon my true form."
The winds whispered in her ear; she flinched at the intrusion. "Do these winds ever stay quiet?"
A laugh rumbled in his chest, and his own mane blew from them. He lifted a hand, and a stray leaf from the tree tumbled into his palm.
He lifted it. Studied it.
"I admire the trees," he finally said, "the way they're able to let go of their leaves, as if they weren't a big part of their lives before. It's a strength I have never possessed."
Something in his voice ached.
"You truly loved her, didn't you?" Zahra whispered.
"I love her," he corrected.
Always.
The air darkened.
Clouds gathered on the horizon like bruises spreading across the sky.
His gaze sharpened.
"Your power sleeps," he said. "If you wish to protect what you cherish… you must awaken. Time is not merciful."
Fear clawed up her throat.
Her eyes locked with Atem's.
Leave him? Lose him?
Again.
The thought alone shattered her.
Will I lose him if I stay?
Her nose burned as she tried to stop the tears.
Her mother had told her that if she continued, she would suffer more than anyone.
… would he die?
Tears slipped free.
He was at her side instantly.
"Don't go," he breathed. "Please."
The world had already shifted. There was no undoing it.
Maahes' voice cut through them both.
"What do you value most, child?"
Once it would have been strength or power. Without question.
Now?
"Freedom," she whispered.
"There is a fine line between freedom and loneliness." He countered.
"Not the freedom I crave," she straightened, ready to defend it.
A pause.
"Then choose it."
She turned to Atem.
"I swore an oath to protect you."
"Forget the oath," he said fiercely, taking her hands. "Listen to me."
His voice softened.
"If I told you I loved you… would you stay?"
Her heart stopped.
Then thundered back twice as hard.
There would be no returning to who they'd been before this.
She touched his cheek like he might vanish.
"I don't want to leave," she whispered. "I'm exactly where I'm meant to be."
"With you. Only you."
Whatever came next, it would come for both of them.
He laughed — breathless, disbelieving — and lifted her off her feet.
"I'm scared," he murmured. "I've become addicted to you in such a short space of time."
She buried her face in his neck, smiling.
"They did fine raising you, child." His large, furry palm touched the tree reverently. "We chose well."
Maahes watched them both.
"You have chosen," he said.
The clouds rolled closer.
Heavy. Inevitable.
The air tasted of storm and ending.
She pressed her forehead to Atem's.
"Whatever happens—"
"I will love you," he said. "In every lifetime."
The words landed between them like a vow carved in stone.
"What if I change?"
"Then I'll fall in love with you all over again."
His voice was soft. Certain. As though it were the simplest truth in the world.
Lightning flickered inside the clouds.
The breezes tumbled over each other and wished her luck.
The wind howled. Churning over and seemingly engulfing them.
And then—
Darkness crashed down.
The sound of a lock snapped through her skull.
Cold and sharp. Final.
Like a cage slamming shut.
Her world fractured.
The field vanished. The wind died.
Warmth vanished from her skin as though it had never existed.
Cold flooded in.
Her heart lurched violently against her ribs.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Her body felt heavy.
Pinned.
As though invisible hands were pressing her down into the mattress beneath her.
A rhythmic beeping sounded.
Darkness clung to the edges of her vision.
Then —
A familiar golden light.
She exhaled shakily.
"Atem…"
Relief cracked through her like dawn. She sank back into the pillows.
But the silence stretched too long.
Too still.
No warmth. No steady breath beside her.
"I am not your Pharaoh," a smooth voice said.
Amused.
Her blood froze.
Slowly — dread pooling thick in her veins — she turned her head.
He was at the foot of the bed.
Leaning casually against the door, like he owned the room.
Blocking any escape. Any help.
She turned her head to the chair.
Mother? She pleaded. Prayed.
Desperate.
A lazy smile curved his mouth, sharp and knowing.
Voracious.
Slowly. Savouring the moment. A card lifted into view.
Black.
Etched with cruel, twisting chains.
They didn't look drawn. They looked alive.
As if they might slither free at any moment.
Metal scraped softly. She swore she could hear them tightening.
He tilted the card toward her.
"Did you really think," he said gently, almost fondly, "that something like destiny would let you walk away so easily?"
Her stomach dropped.
His eyes glittered.
Not angry. Not excited.
Certain.
Like a hunter who had already set the trap.
Like she had stepped into it all on her own.
The chains on the card gleamed.
Waiting. Their patience wearing thin.
And the chains smiled with him.
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Hello reader!
I would, once again, like to thank you for sticking with me this far. Zahra and Atem's story is currently in a competition. So if you like what you read, any interaction with this works would be brilliant!
It really does mean so much that you're still with me!
Please don't forget to like and comment. Let me know if there's any particular line you like, or dislike.
I'd love to hear your thoughts.
All my love to you,
Lauren xxx