Nimmet, Goddess of Love

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and characters are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Nimmet, Goddess of Love

  Copyright©2008 Anastasia Rabiyah

  ISBN: 978-1-60054-143-8

  Fairy Tales and Love Songs

  Cover art and design by Anastasia Rabiyah

  All rights reserved. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Published by

  loveyoudivine 2008

  Find us on the

  World Wide Web at

  www.loveyoudivine.com

  Nimmet,

  Goddess of Love

  By

  Anastasia Rabiyah

  Dedicated to anyone with the guts to follow the

  right path.

  Prologue – The Statue of Nimmet

  The statue of Nimmet, the Unangi goddess of love, stood atop her new pedestal, a white marble slab carved with roses. Oemir Leuj Irnia studied the relic with lust in his chest, brimming over into his thoughts. He’d wanted to possess this particular artifact for some time, and had paid a hefty price to procure it for his garden. He traced the dark sculpture’s erect nipples, running two fingers through the valley between her carved breasts, crossed the indentation of the stone figure’s navel and then pressed his palm over her lifeless, obsidian cleft.

  "Love," he whispered. "There is no such thing."

  Behind him, the woman that tended his palace gardens clucked her tongue, but he didn’t turn to argue with her. His mind remained on his newest obsession, the vibrant, defiant daughter of his rival. He imagined what it would feel like to touch Sima in this intimate way. How long will it take before she bends to my will?

  Chapter One – Running

  Sima Alonwei ran for her life. Her thick-heeled boots tap-tapped down the metal walk as she sprinted past storefronts in Irnia’s racier district, rain drizzling down. Far behind her, two bodyguards’ booming voices echoed down the tunnel. Sima didn’t turn. She squinted against the blaring streetlights and ducked behind an exotic pet shop. Her heart pounding in her chest and her breathing out of control, she peered up at the billboard above the building.

  Juri’s Medicinal Tonic. Cures impotence.

  The picture beneath the words startled her, drawing her attention for a moment. Two bodies entangled, beaded with sweat and arcing in passion. She hurried down the alley and slipped between the buildings, holding her breath until she recognized Boris and Delin’s gruff calls passing by her hiding place. Behind her, an animal scuttled through the garbage, maybe a rat or some strange Irnian pest. She glanced, but couldn’t see more than its shadow as it darted from view.

  "Great," she whispered. "I’ve escaped, but now where do I go?" She carried only her small purse, the beaded fabric fragile and garish. Her father liked it though, and that was why she brought it this night. Clutching it against her chest, she hunkered down in the shadows to wait.

  On the walk, shoppers and people passed, laughing, talking, holding hands. Sima spied on them for hours before she crept completely from her hiding place. The moon glowed a bleary orange above the alley. She poked her veiled face around the corner of the building and felt relief wash over her. They’re gone.

  Having planned this third attempt to run away, she untied the silken veil and dress she wore and slid it over her body. Nondescript black cotton covered her. She’d worn two layers of clothing. Balling up the finer, discarded garment, she tossed it in one of the City of Irnia’s dumpsters. It whispered as it landed within.

  Still wary, she crossed the street and half-read the sign above the gray building before her.

  …finest rooms this side of Irnia. Meals served in bed.

  Her stomach grumbled, reminding Sima that her father’s idea of a strict diet was not in line with nourishment. The glass door alerted the desk clerk with a soft buzz when she entered, and a blue light flashed over her body, scanning. Strange hotel. A long, white counter with ribbed cabinetwork beneath greeted her. She walked up to it and looked at the attendant who busied himself rifling through a pile of plastic key cards.

  "I’d like a room," she announced.

  He sat straight up and forced a smile across his thin lips. Grizzled shadow stood over his pale cheeks and upper lip, a clue that he’d been working long hours. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and he stood, further revealing a lanky frame.

  "Do you have a preference?" He dropped a handful of key cards and reached for a slim data-sharer, holding it out for her perusal.

  "Preference?" she repeated, unsure of what he meant.

  "You know…color, length, that sort of thing." He bugged his eyes wide and waved his other hand as if she ought to know what he meant.

  "I guess something simple?" She bit at her bottom lip.

  The attendant narrowed his gaze and frowned. "Simple. That’s new. How long will you be staying?" He set the data-sharer down.

  She sighed. "How much is it?"

  "For something," he cleared his throat, "…simple, I’d do it for three shens, one night."

  Still unsure of her options, she dropped her purse on the counter. She searched through the credit cards and shook her head. Father will trace them. The zippered pocket at the bottom held cash. Sima pulled the wad out and carefully counted out nine shens. She pushed the glittery paper payment across the counter and grinned. "Does that include meals?"

  "Meals, showers, the bed, the floor, the walls, wherever you want." He sneered and closed his bulbous eyes, his fingers dropping to the pile of keycards. "Simple." He clutched one at random and held it up. His gaze fell on it and he snorted. "Oh. That one." Dropping it on the white surface that separated them, he said, "Down the hall. Seventh door. Walls are soundproof. No cameras. We believe in privacy here."

  "That’s perfect. If anyone asks, you didn’t see me, all right?"

  "Privacy," the clerk repeated, and winked.

  Sima smoothed her black blouse and nodded. "Thank you." She started down the hall, stopped at a set of glass doors, and pulled one open. For a hotel, the place seemed terribly quiet. Her boots clicked on the tiled floor, their echo following her. The seventh door stood like a beacon of hope, her escape from years of oppression and obedience. The key card felt cold in her hands. Her fingers trembled when she slipped it into the slot above the lever. "Let this be my new beginning," she whispered.

  The light above the slot glowed green and automated locks popped back to allow her entry. Sima turned the lever and went inside. The room did seem simple. She ran her hand along the wall to the switch. Bright, incandescent light shone from angular fixtures on the high ceiling. The furnishings were plain, a brown couch, a black table with four chairs and a small counter bar near the kitchen. The door glided shut behind her.

  She hurried to the couch and plopped down. "I’ve done it. I’m free." Bending, she unzipped her boots and tugged them off her aching feet. "I wish I had a masseuse. Damn heels." Sliding her fingers up her pants, she hooked the ends of her knee-high nylons and freed them. They dropped on the beige carpeting in silence, looking like two lumps of crumpled, gray skin.

  She closed her eyes, relaxing. The room smelled like leather and musk, almost like a man. "Mm, now I can have any man I want." Years ago, when she was nothing more than a mere teen, she fancied Boris, but he shrugged off her immature advances, his loyalties true to her father. Her
other bodyguard, Delin, didn’t win prizes in the looks department.

  Leaning back, she stretched her legs, running the bottoms of her feet across the carpet. "I’ll go barefoot for three days and eat anything I want."

  "Are you hungry now?" a masculine voice asked.

  She opened her eyes and curled her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest. The man stood in front of her, dressed only in blue pants that hung a little low on his waist. The first thing she noticed was the line of dark, curled hairs running from his pant’s tie to his navel. Her gaze traveled up as she took in his chiseled abdomen and his broad, muscular chest. Dark, milk chocolate skin gleamed in the light from above. One of his nipples bore a silver ring pierced through it.

  "Um," she stammered, her stare catching on his handsome face. "Am I in the wrong room?" She held up her key card, admiring his large lips. "The guy at the counter…"

  "Ailen. He said you wanted something simple." The stranger smiled. He brushed his hand over his short, black hair.

  Sima’s brow furrowed. She pulled the key card back and clutched it to her chest. "Wh—why are you in my room?" She cocked her head to one side and nervously chewed her lip.

  "You tell me." He took a step and leaned forward, holding out his hand. "I’m Razi."

  "Sima," she whispered, reaching out as well. His coal-colored eyes looked mysterious, and she wondered for an instant what it would be like to peer into them from a closer vantage. Warm, thick fingers curled around her hand. She tensed. He is too attractive to be a room keep, running around half dressed. "What kind of hotel is this?"

  "Hotel?" He chuckled and pulled her up, unexpectedly. "Are you joking?" He slipped his other arm around her waist and guided her close.

  His chest touched hers, and she realized how cold and wet she was from standing so long in the rain. Her nipples stood at attention, poking at his skin. The sensation made her shiver worse. "Joking about what?"

  Razi’s eyes widened, and his smile turned mischievous. "Sima, why did you come here? What do you want to do?"

  "I-I wanted to get out of the rain, sleep in a warm bed, shower, maybe eat…" She flinched when he leaned closer, his dark eyes searching. He drew circles on her lower back with the pad of his thumb.

  "You’re very beautiful," he whispered. "Is this a game you’re playing?" He touched the tip of his nose to hers and ran it up a ways. His full lips parted when they brushed the side of her mouth. "I like games. Tell me what you want." Razi’s breath came out in minty gasps. "I’ll play any game for you."

  She closed her eyes. Words felt like lumps clogging her throat. Her fingers came against his waist in a tentative way. His skin was hot beneath her touch. "Is this a…"

  He ran his cheek across hers, his hand slipping further down her back until his palm cupped her ass. "Yes it is. You feel so cold, Sima. Do you want to take a shower?"

  She nodded.

  Razi released her and stood back, his gaze on her chest. "Can I watch you?"

  "W-w-watch me?" She shook her head. "This is weird. Look, I just want a room for a few days, until I’m ready to move on." She lowered her blatant stare to her discarded boots. "I didn’t realize what this place was."

  "Oh."

  When she glanced up, blushing, Sima noticed the surprised look on Razi’s face. His black brows rose in the middle of his forehead and his mouth hung open a bit too much. "Look, I’ve never been anywhere like this." She shrugged and edged along the couch to escape his closeness. "I mean you’re, well, you’re nice looking and everything, but I don’t even know you. I just want a shower and a nap."

  "Ah." He pushed his hands into his pockets. She glanced at the line of hair again. Her father made sure the men she saw did not go around half-dressed.

  "Where’s the bathroom?" she asked.

  He pointed at the narrow hall beside the kitchenette. "It’s in the bedroom. You sure you don’t want—"

  "No! Please, don’t be insulted." She raised her hands, palm up to show she meant no offense. Forcing herself to look away from him, she bolted for the hall.

  A king-sized bed graced the single room. The light in the bathroom glowed. She hurried toward it and locked the door behind her. A large picture hung behind glass. Sima sucked in a shocked breath. The image showcased a man’s lower extremities in shades of black, white and gray. "That’s big." Shaking her head, she peeled off her wet clothes and hung them by the plush, white towels.

  The bathroom floor felt icy underfoot. Sima opened the glass door and turned on the hot water, hoping she could take a long, steamy shower. Some hotels had small water heaters. "This isn’t a hotel," she reminded herself.

  "You want me to get you something to eat?" Razi called.

  She flinched. He’s just outside the door! This is crazy. "Um, yes, thank you."

  "I’ll get something ready for you."

  She ran a hand through her chestnut colored hair, and glared at the hazy image in the fogged-up bathroom mirror. "I didn’t plan this well." Shaking her head, she stepped into the shower and debated sending Razi away. It might look suspicious to the attendant. A smile curled her lips. She leaned her head back beneath the hot spray. If he behaves, I guess he can stay. He is nice to look at.

  Chapter Two – Razi

  Her body wrapped in a thick towel, her wet hair hanging down her back in curls, Sima opened the bathroom door and looked out. "Razi?" She craned her neck to see if he might be in the hall. In the empty passage, she saw his shadow trailing from the kitchenette.

  "Almost ready!" he shouted. "Hope you like falafel."

  She crinkled her nose. "Must be a vegan. Great, just great." She padded out, her gaze falling on the turned-down, gold bedcover. The crisp, white sheets and fluffed pillow invited her to rest. Sima pursed her lips, deciding food must come first. She strolled through the narrow hall. The scent of frying oil and spices wafted in the temperature-controlled air, beckoning to her grumbling stomach.

  "Smells good," she told him as she sat down at the bar. The kitchenette had a line of cabinets over the stove and a small fridge to the right of the sink. Sima ran her fingers over the smooth stone countertop while she stared at the man cooking her dinner.

  Razi stood in front of the two burner stove, his back to her. "Thanks."

  She watched him flip the falafel. His unusual milky brown skin appealed to her, and his well-rounded biceps begged to be touched. He must work out. She gazed lower at the outline of his firm ass beneath the casual pajama pants.

  He turned, a plate in his hand. "I hope you’re hungry."

  Sima blushed. "Very."

  He set the food in front of her, offering a lopsided grin. "Enjoy."

  The lumps of fried chickpeas and spices poked out from beneath the leaves of crisp lettuce and ripe tomatoes. She picked up the flatbread sandwich and took a bite, ready to spit it out if it tasted wrong. "Mm." She swallowed it down. "That’s good."

  "Are you going to walk around in a towel for three days?" His brows rose in a playful way.

  She giggled. "Can I?"

  He turned back to the stove. "You can, but don’t expect me to keep my distance. Terry cloth suits your figure."

  Sima tried to tug the hem of her towel higher in an attempt to hide her full breasts. Her father harped on her about her weight, and she didn’t feel at ease with the shape of her body. She ate in silence, anxious to escape to the bed. Razi turned off the stove and walked to the couch. As he ate, his gaze trained on his plate, she stole glances at him over her shoulder. There’s something about him, the way he carries himself… Swallowing the last of her dinner, she stood and dropped her plate in the sink. "Well, goodnight," she called, unwilling to take her thoughts any further. This is my escape, not some fantasy in a pleasure house. Not that I wouldn’t mind him touching me.

  Shaking her head at her wandering mind, she half ran down the hall. She shut the bedroom door, startled that it had no lock. "Damn," she whispered. "That’s bad."

  "Sima?" He sounded far away, hopefully stil
l on the couch. "Hey, I have to brush my teeth and stuff so, if it’s okay, can I use the bathroom in a few minutes?"

  "Yeah." Shaking her head, she entered the bathroom and opened the cabinet, intending to do the same. Neat packets of travel accessories lined its curved shelves. She took one, struggled with the wrapper on the toothbrush and then stared at herself in the mirror while she brushed her teeth. She rinsed and spit. "This is weird. But they’ll never look for me here. It’s the perfect hiding place." Worry bit at her, and she feared that they’d find her and take her back to her father, or worse, back to Leuj.

  She tested the dampness of her clothes, knowing full well that they wouldn’t be dry until the morning, but hopeful nonetheless. Now I have to go around in a towel ‘til my clothes dry. Great, just great. Sima sighed her disappointment and made her way to the bed. She slid between the sheets, pulling the heavy cover up to her chin. Her towel loosened from her body.

  The door lever dipped and she froze. Razi came sauntering in. "Comfy?" he asked, his brown eyed gaze fixed on her face.

  "Yeah. Bed’s cold, but—"

  "Want me to warm it up for you?" One of his brows rose up, a curious expression crossing his chiseled features. He seemed to be forcing back his grin.

  The sight of him started a pleasant ache in her abdomen. She chewed her cheek. Her father’s voice reprimanded her from countless memories. You look like a fool when you do that. Stop it and smile like the lady I need you to be. She stopped and forced a smile.

  Razi beamed back, melting her resolve. "I’ll be right back."

  Before she could protest, he was in the bathroom, the door shut to block the glimpse of his behind. She cringed, listening to the water running. "Stupid smile gave him the wrong idea." But the bed is cold.

  Razi strode out, clicking the switch off. The sliver of light from the hall lit his profile. Shadows accentuated every taut muscle across his abdomen. Sima sucked in a breath. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.