Ashes to ashes, dust to dust... from the sands they rise again.
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Thousands of years ago, the priestess Nysacia was hunted down and killed for being the agent of the dark god, Sutekh. The priest Eteus witnessed her death and swore revenge… before being struck down as well.
As the years pass, the priest returns to the world of the living, awaiting the day the priestess Nysacia would return as well. He assimilates into the modern world, becoming Ethan, trains as an Egyptologist… And is introduced to a Greek woman by the name of Anastatia on the dig to find his lost priestess.
Can Ethan guide the two women he loves through the battles of the modern world, where the myths and the humans entwine? Or will he lose one of them to the curse of a Werewolf, never to see her again?
"What the hell?" Anastatia demanded, backing up against a wall.
Nysacia jumped up on the table and sat, watching her. The Persian hound's golden fur rippled a little as she shivered in the air conditioning. Her ears pricked forward and brown eyes locked on the Greek woman.
The pygmy lion growled quietly and sprang up to stand beside the Persian hound, sitting on the table. He watched Anastatia, who was wide-eyed. Nysacia licked the lion's cheek lightly, then looked to Anastatia, standing up and stepping forward a couple of paces before shifting back to her human form.
Nysacia sat on the edge of the table, her legs crossed and her arms folded over her chest, a pose that was modest and seductive at the same time. She smiled at Anastatia, flicking her hair behind her shoulder and giving the woman a saucy wink.
Ethan's transformation was less smooth and he groaned in pain every time he tried to move. While Nysacia sat on the desk watching their audience, he pulled on his remaining clothes and looked to Anastatia.
"This is a secret older than most civilizations, Anastatia. You have to keep this quiet." Ethan handed Nysacia her clothes, but she left them on the table, watching Anastatia and playing with her hair. "When Nysacia told you she was four thousand years old before, she told a little white lie. She's two centuries older than that, if our estimates are correct. That's why she can't speak English—she can only speak Demotic, because that's the only language she's heard before."
Anastatia looked between Nysacia and Ethan, her looks lingering on Nysacia's breasts hidden beneath her hair. "You—what—who—?"
"Shape-shifter," Nysacia said in Demotic, gesturing to herself. "The body that disappeared off your slab? That was me."
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