Chapter 7
Jessica
Iwoke up tangled in Egyptian cotton sheets and the arms of a god.
For a moment, I just lay there, listening to Anubis breathe in a slow, steady rhythm that shouldn’t have been comforting, but was. His chest rose and fell against my back, his arm heavy across my waist.
This wasn’t my plan.
The plan had been simple. Have a vacation fling, nothing serious, enjoy the moment and walk away unscathed. But as I lay there feeling the warmth of his body against mine, I had the sinking realization that I was already in trouble.
I was falling for him.
“You’re awake,” Anubis murmured against my shoulder, his voice still rough with sleep.
“How did you know?”
“Your breathing changed.” He pressed a kiss to the curve of my neck, and I felt it all the way to my toes. “And your heart rate increased.”
“That’s not creepy at all.”
“I am the god of death. I am attuned to the rhythms of life.”
"Still creepy." But I smiled and turned in his arms to face him.
He looked different in the morning light, softer, more human.
His eyes were still gold, but without the intensity of the night before.
In the morning light they appeared more warm honey than molten metal.
Sleep and my hands had mussed his hair, and his expression showed a tenderness that made my chest ache.
“Hi,” I said. Dumb, Jess. That had to sound stupid.
“Hello.”
We stared at each other for a moment, and I felt the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us. Then he smiled, and the moment passed.
“What would you like to do today?” he asked.
“Show you Cairo, remember? That was the deal.”
“I remember.” His hand traced lazy patterns on my hip. “Though I confess I’m tempted to stay here instead.”
“We can’t spend the rest of my time here in bed.”
“We could try.”
I laughed, swatting at his chest. “Come on. Up. I want to show you the Nile at sunset. There’s this felucca ride the concierge told me about with traditional sailboats. It’s supposed to be very romantic.”
“Romantic,” he repeated, his expression neutral. “Is that what this is?”
The question caught me off guard. “Well, no. We agreed this is casual. We’re just going to show each other a good time. I was repeating what the concierge said.”
“We did agree to that, yes.” His eyes lowered, and he was quiet for a moment. “And yet I find myself wanting more of your time than is strictly necessary for a casual arrangement.”
My heart twisted. “Yeah. Me too.”
“It is problematic.”
“Very.”
We looked at each other, and I saw my confusion reflected in his eyes. This was supposed to be simple. Uncomplicated. Instead, it felt like standing at the edge of an abyss, knowing I was about to fall.
“We still have time,” I said. “Let’s see what happens.”
“A reasonable approach.”
“I’m reasonable.”
“Occasionally,” he agreed, and kissed me before I could protest.
We spent the rest of the day in bed. Or in the shower.
Anubis couldn’t keep his hands off me, nor I him.
We were like college co-eds at the beginning of a relationship, and in a sense, I supposed we were.
Never in my life had I felt so desired, or as beautiful.
After Anubis had taken me against a wall and I’d screamed his name, a hotel employee knocked on the door to tell us to calm down.
Anubis had answered the door, his glamour flickering, and the employee rushed away.
He raced back to where I had wrapped myself in the luxurious hotel sheets, and we dissolved into laughter.
The felucca glided across the Nile as the sun sank on the horizon. The sand danced with shades of orange, pinks and a gold that matched Anubis’s eyes. Anubis sat beside me on the cushioned bench, close enough that our thighs touched, his arm draped across my shoulders.
The captain, an elderly man with skin like weathered leather and kind eyes, had taken one look at us and smiled before launching into a stream of Arabic I couldn’t follow. Anubis responded in the same language, his tone fluid and natural. Whatever he said made the old man laugh.
“What did you tell him?” I asked as we settled in for the ride.
“That you were showing me my own country for the first time in millennia.” He paused. “He assumed I was being poetic about having been away for a long time. I did not correct him.”
The boat caught the wind, and we drifted away from the shore. Cairo sprawled on either side of us, a mishmash of modern buildings and ancient mosques. Soon the chaos of the city gave way to the timeless peace of the river.
“Tell me what this was like when you knew it.”
Anubis looked around, silent, his eyes tracking the shoreline.
“The Nile was wilder. More unpredictable. Each year we waited to see if the floods would come, if the waters would bring life or devastation. The city was smaller and more concentrated. You could stand in one place and see the desert beyond.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes,” he turned to look at me. “But things end, Jessica. All things do. Civilizations rise and fall. Gods fade when their worshippers forget them. To miss what was is to deny what is.”
“That’s very philosophical for someone who spent three thousand years bound to a rock.”
“I had considerable time to think.”
The sun was sinking lower now, turning the Nile into liquid gold. I leaned into Anubis, resting my head on his shoulder, and felt his arm tighten around me.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Always.”
“What’s it like? Immortality. Having forever?”
He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn’t answer. When he spoke, his voice was low. “Lonely.”
Tears pricked my eyes at his honesty.
“The first hundred years or so, you notice the passage of time,” he continued, his voice soft.
“You watch people age and die. Children become elders. Cities transform. But you remain unchanged. After five hundred years, you start to lose track. Faces blur together. Names become difficult to remember. After a thousand,” he paused.
“After a thousand years, you realize that nothing you do matters because you will outlast it all. Every relationship, every connection, every moment of joy. It’s all temporary. Only you remain.”
“That sounds awful.”
“It is what it is.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Though I confess, these past days with you have made me question that assessment.”
“Yeah?”
“You make me feel…” he stopped, searching for the word. “Present. Like this moment matters, even knowing it will end.”
I turned to look at him, and something in his expression made my breath catch. He looked vulnerable.
“It does matter,” I said. “Even if it ends. Maybe especially because it ends.”
“You sound certain.”
“I’m not. I’m terrified.” The admission surprised me, but once I started talking, I couldn’t stop.
“I’m forty-five years old, Anubis. My marriage ended, my daughter doesn’t need me anymore, my career is over.
I spent so long building my idea of a perfect life, and it fell apart.
And I have no idea what comes next. Most days I feel invisible. Like I’m taking up space until I die.”
“Jessica.”
“And then you happened.” I laughed, the sound bitter.
“A literal god appears in my hotel room and looks at me like I’m something precious, something worth his time, and I know…
I know…it’s temporary. I know I’m going back home in less than two weeks and you’re going back to the underworld and this all ends.
But right now, with you, I feel seen. I feel alive. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
He cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Listen to me. Mortals are fools. They see wrinkles and silver hair and decide someone’s value has diminished.
They equate youth with worth, beauty with power.
But I have watched humanity for thousands of years, and I can tell you with absolute certainty, you are powerful. ”
“I’m really not.”
“You are.” His thumbs stroked my cheekbones.
“You radiate life force in a way that draws me like a moth to a flame. When I look at you, I don’t see age or imperfection.
I see a woman who has survived, who has fought and lost and kept going anyway.
I see strength and resilience, and a spirit that refuses to be diminished.
You are beautiful, Jessica. Not despite your years, but because of them. ”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. “You’re saying that to make me feel better.”
“I am incapable of lying. It is not in my nature.” He leaned closer, his forehead touching mine. “You are the first mortal in millennia to make me feel less alone. Do you understand what that means? Do you understand what a rare gift you are?”
I kissed him, unable to find words for what I was feeling. He responded immediately, his hands sliding into my hair, and I felt the world narrow to his mouth on mine, the gentle rocking of the boat, the setting sun painting everything in gold.
“The captain is watching,” Anubis murmured against my lips.
“Let him watch.”
The kiss deepened, and I felt heat pooling low in my belly despite the public setting. When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, the old captain was examining the sail with a knowing smile.
“We should probably not scandalize him further,” I said.
“Probably not.”
The sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the sky erupted in shades of purple and deep blue. The Nile turned dark, reflecting the first stars, and I felt Anubis tense beside me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The stars,” he breathed. “I had forgotten how beautiful they were. In the underworld, there is no sky. Not like this.”
I looked up at the emerging constellations as patterns I’d known my whole life and tried to imagine going thousands of years without seeing them.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For reminding me what I was missing.”