The Pharaoh’s Favorite novel Chapter 11

“Tell me more about the curse,” I whispered, leaning forward. The words felt heavy on my tongue, weighted with all the questions that had haunted my dreams.

But Amen’s eyes darkened, shadows dancing in their depths. Before I could press further, he rose in one fluid motion. His hands found my waist, lifting me as though I weighed nothing more than a feather.

My breath caught in my throat as he settled me onto his lap, his arms wrapping around me with possessive certainty. The sudden intimacy made my heart race.

This wasn’t the formal distance between Pharaoh and concubine – this was something raw and real, something that frightened me with its intensity.

“Enough talk of curses,” he murmured against my ear, his breath warm against my skin. His embrace tightened, and I felt the steady rhythm of his heart against my back, a counterpoint to my own racing pulse.

He buries his face against the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. My pulse races wildly, my hands instinctively pressing against his chest as if to steady myself.

“I have missed you,” he murmurs, his voice raw, low, vibrating against my collarbone. “Every moment apart from you has felt wrong.”

My breath catches. The raw honesty in his voice made my chest ache. I turned slightly, studying his face in the flickering lamplight.

“I’ve missed you too,” I admitted softly. The words felt dangerous, like offering up a piece of my soul to the gods themselves. “More than I should. More than makes sense.”

His fingers traced idle patterns on my arm, each touch sending sparks through my skin that felt like tiny bursts of magic.

“There is no ‘should’ between us, Neferet. What we share… it is divine. Ordained by the gods themselves.” He pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice dropping lower, resonating with something ancient and powerful.

“I have never known this before,” he continues, his grip tightening as though I might disappear from his grasp. “This pull. This hunger. It is madness, Neferet. From the first moment I saw you, I have fought against it, telling myself it is the work of the gods. But the truth is…”

His lips graze my jaw, the barest whisper of a touch, sending a tremor through me. “The truth is, I do not want to fight it. I cannot. I do not want to be without you.”

A shiver rolls down my spine, the weight of his confession wrapping around me like a spell.

As his hands caress my back, as his warmth engulfs me, I feel myself unraveling, caught between the fierce temptation of his presence and the terrifying certainty that if I surrender, I will never be free of him.

“You are dangerous, Pharaoh,” I whisper, my fingers curling into the fabric of his robes. “You weave your words like silk, entangling me before I can see the snare.”

He chuckles, the sound dark and knowing. “And yet, my sweet lotus flower, you do not pull away.”

I let my fingers drift, tracing the sharp angles of his jaw, the rough scrape of stubble against my touch.