Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) by Teresa D'Amario Page A

us go, then.”
    She gave him a small smile, her eyes fluttering closed, and then she placed her hand in his. The instant they made contact, a sizzle of heat shot through his blood. Ramose sucked fresh oxygen into his suddenly squeezed lungs. He clenched his teeth to keep from hissing in a shocked breath. The ice inside him steamed at the contact and then settled.
    Not good. What if she were to touch more of him? Would he lose his power? He released her hand, using the excuse to press the elevator button before shoving his hand into his pocket to hide the flexing of warmed fingers.
    Silence echoed off the brass walls of the elevator. She stood beside him and toyed with her strange waist pack. As the floors passed, Ramose struggled to keep from copying her, his own brain searching for something to do. After mere seconds in this human female’s presence, he struggled to keep from fidgeting. The premonition from the night before still pounded at his brain, and he knew this woman was the key.
    But where to start?
    “So, do you like Egypt?” he blurted.
    “Are you Egyptian?” she asked.
    They looked at one another surprised, and she laughed. Embarrassment, followed by amusement bubbled through his chest, and he couldn’t help but join her. Twice, she’d made him laugh in just as many days. It was nice to laugh again.
    “You first,” he said, still smiling.
    She chuckled then began. “Are you Egyptian? Your eyes kinda look different. Most of the locals I’ve met so far have brown eyes, and, last night, you said Arabic wasn’t your native language.”
    He shook his head. “No, though I have lived here a great deal of my life. It is my home.” The elevator doors slid open, and they strode across the marble floor, their shoes clicking softly on the square tiles.
    “Really? So where are you originally from? Your last name is definitely not Egyptian. British, isn’t it?
    He nodded, his eyes appraising her. Either she’d done her homework last night, or she was intelligent. Either way, he was going to need to be careful. “Yes, it is.”
    “So, you’re a misplaced Brit?”
    “You could say that,” he said, holding open the glass door in the foyer, and they stepped out into the sun. There were a lot of ‘misplaced Brit’s’ in Egypt. A black Mercedes pulled up to the curb, and Ramose opened the rear passenger door. “After you,” he said, motioning her inside with the wave of one elegant arm.
    “You’re very own driver?” she asked with a grin.
    He shrugged. “A friend. He likes to drive, and I don’t.” She arched a brow and then climbed into the automobile.
    Her eyes were different than most human’s. Blue. Ringed with gold. He’d noticed them last night. In his world, that meant something very special. Royalty. In this world, a Petiri of such eyes would be considered a goddess as her talents developed, overshadowing all others.
    She slid across to the far side of the seat. With a light shake of his head, he stepped into the car. The perfume of lilies washed over him as though he’d stepped into a blooming garden. The scent slammed into him, rolling like a desert khamsin, stealing his breath, filled his lungs, and seeping into his blood. By the gods! Heat rushed from his lungs, surging low, his body hardening to the point of pain. Ramose hid his grimace of discomfort as he settled into the backseat
    and closed the door.
    “Are you all right?”
    Ramose nodded. He couldn’t explain his reaction. Even he didn’t understand it. His body ached with the desire to touch her, and he gripped the edges of the seat, determined to overcome. Lilies. Why, by all the gods, did she have to smell like lilies? He’d always thought his Kha-Ib , the heart of his soul, would carry that scent. A scent as powerful and strong as the woman he’d once hoped to find. A woman he’d left behind on Petiri when he’d volunteered for this forsaken mission.
    “Yes, I do.”
    The sound of words seeped into his fuddled brain,