Read The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) for Free Online Page B

grass. How could he leave behind the burning blue sky and yellow sun? How could he leave his beloved Egypt?
    Wildly his panicked gaze whipped about the tent, searching faces. Elizabeth looked troubled. Jabari and Ramses were grim. Katherine looked pleadingly at him. "He is a good man, Khepri. You come from an honored lineage as noble as any Egyptian king’s. He’s your grandfather," she said.
    They were letting him go. How could they? Did not family mean anything to Jabari? But he was not blood. His guts twisted. Not real family.
    Badra remained his only hope. If she married him, surely his brother would not abandon him to this white-haired stranger from across the sea. He needed her. How could he leave her?
    Khepri calmed. Surely she would marry him. All her affection, the gifts presented to him over the years, their camaraderie, and the kiss. Warmth flooded his veins as he remembered her soft lips. Badra felt the same for him as he felt for her. Marriage was the answer. Even leaving the Khamsin seemed less menacing with her by his side. He could face the land of green grass if he must.
    Politely excusing himself, he left the tent, ignoring Jabari’s troubled expression. He found Badra beneath an acacia tree, weaving a colorful blanket.
    "I thought you were taking coffee with your grandfather." She beamed at him. "Is it not wonderful that your family found you? The entire tribe is chattering about your honored ancestry, how you will have wealth greater than the ancient kings of Egypt."
    Her too? He grimaced and sat, feeling peace merely by being with her. "I don’t want any part of it."
    Badra’s lower lip trembled. "I don’t understand. You are his grandson. If I knew a child or a grandchild that I had thought dead was found alive, I would move mountains to be with them again. You are blessed. Trust me."
    He hated seeing her upset. Khepri brushed a knuckle against her cheek. A tremulous smile touched her lips. Allah, he wanted to hold her in his arms. And never let go.
    "I have something important to ask you."
    She tensed as he slid down onto his knees before her.
    "Marry me, Badra," Khepri said, his gaze frantic. "I did not want to ask like this, but time is short. Do not forsake me. Marry me and I will give up everything—the wealth and land awaiting me. Marry me and we will remain here, as Khamsin. Or if you wish, we will make a life in England with riches as vast as the sands of Egypt. I can face anything with you by my side."
    Please , he begged with his eyes. I cannot lose you.
    She remained silent, biting her lip. He waited in hopeful anticipation. Surely after their kiss, her feelings for him ...
    When she spoke, the words slapped him like wet cloth.
    "I am sorry, Khepri. I ... I cannot marry you. I cannot feel the same for you as you feel for me," she whispered.
    For a minute he remained speechless with shock. He searched her face. No? She looked away. A heavy weight crushed his chest as his last hope faded. All these years, waiting. Honoring her. Hoping. Believing she cared. She didn’t.
    Agony fled, replaced by bitterness as thick as a sandstorm. Khepri rose and fished his dagger from his belt, the same one she had once used to try and end her life. Something inside him shriveled to dry dust.
    With a deep hiss, he laced open his palm, a symbolic reminder of how he had saved her when they first met.
    "This is the last time I will shed my blood for you, Badra. But you needn’t tend to my injuries any longer. Take this. It’s yours now. I have no use for it in England," he snapped. With a look of disgust, he threw the blade into the sand. It stuck there, wobbling.
    Then he left, droplets of blood dotting the ground like a trail of red tears. But the burning pain in his palm hurt far less than his insides.
     

     
    Time seemed to grind to an agonizing halt for Khepri, though several days had passed. He made up his mind. He would go to England. There was nothing for him here. Badra had rejected him.