Delivering Sin

By Nadirah Foxx

A cover model. A reincarnated Egyptian god. A dangerous, passion-filled situation.

When a man is possessed by Amun-Ra, a strange quest ignites to resurrect his long-lost lover. Sinatra, a woman who's had her heart broken before, is unprepared for Amun's hijinks.

He wants to take her to the Underworld and make her his queen while Jake, the man who disappointed Sinatra, will risk his eternity to save her.

For the first time in history, could Sin need saving?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avanturine Press
• Release date: Oct 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9798223580102

Book preview

1

SINATRA

It’s the end of another long, hot workday. I’m tired and painfully horny. The handsome disappointment in the room can’t help my predicament since he contributed to it.

The male model—someone who shall remain nameless—never shifts his Asian-shaped green eyes from me as he zips his jeans. My gaze travels over his bronze chest before I pick up my tank top from the floor and push past him.

Sin, don’t be this way, he pleads. If I were available, I’d take you up on your offer. You’re a beautiful woman, but I don’t cheat on my partner.

Yeah, whatever, I mumble. Insulting my intelligence isn’t necessary. You should have led with the fact you’re off the market.

I thought you knew. His incredulous voice comes out in a whisper.

I ignore him and continue getting dressed.

He grabs my arm, stopping me. How is it you don’t know about me and my partner? Everyone I work with knows.

I yank my arm back, tug my top over my head, and glare at him. Time ebbs and flows with neither of us speaking a word. I purse my lips and zip up my overnight bag.

There are days I love what I do. I meet new people, and I’m treated like royalty. But then there are times like now. No one thinks about the problems cover models encounter on photo shoots with hot guys. I’ve been aroused by plenty of my co-workers. Most of the time I have no issues. We either have a quick fuck afterward or we go our separate ways with no more than a handshake.

Today, however, was different. I haven’t been laid in over a month. The drought, I guess, has made me a little desperate. When I received the call to pose with the androgynous but appealing male, I jumped at the chance.

The photographer posed us in countless semi-nude poses all afternoon. Each precarious position tested my resolve. By the end of the session, I was turned on. Through it all, though, my co-worker never said a word about his partner. No. He waited until after the session when I tried to kiss him. Such a great time to let me know he’s in a committed relationship with a dude.

Asshole.

Say something, Sin. I like working with you, but we can’t do this again. He stands beside me, still shirtless, with his arms outstretched.

I’m unable to peel my gaze from his plump, kissable lips. Unbelievable. I’m still thinking about kissing him.

All I can say is his partner should count his blessings. I can overlook a lot of crap in life, but competing with a man isn’t one of them.

Why are the best-looking men always taken, gay, or both?

Put a damn shirt on, I bark and grab my bag. Listen, do me a favor. Turn down the next assignment with me. You’re right. We can’t do this shit again.

No problem, he yells to my back. I heard you could be a bitch. Now I know.

A shiver snakes down my spine. That stung a bit. I don’t say another word. My heels pounding the tile floor echo behind me as I exit the room.

Once outside I lean against the building. I wasn’t always this way. Too many hard knocks will change a person. Or maybe it’s just my desperation unleashing my ugly side. To be honest, I have no issue with his sexuality. I’m fucking happy for him. It’s hard (pun intended) to find someone to spend your life with regardless of your preference. When I get home, I’ll remember to drink a toast in their damned honor.

I slip off my shoes and push off the wall. The asphalt burns as I drag my feet through the studio’s parking lot. The pain on my soles, however, is nothing compared to the throbbing between my legs. All of this is my own damn fault. I knew who I’d be doing the session with. And yes, everyone knows about his partner—a heartthrob wanna-be actor. I chose to ignore the fact.

Of course, I could scroll through my contacts and find another guy to satisfy my needs. But I’ve had enough of the grab-and-fuck scene. I can’t take another sexual encounter with a guy who manhandles my tits and fucks me too quick and hard. The worst part is afterward. There’s no concern about my feelings. Not even a Did I please you, baby?

And there’s a reason why I let myself get carried away. The man is the most kindhearted person I’ve ever worked with. Not once did he treat me like a stuck-up model without a brain cell. Working with him was like hanging out with a friend.

Most men I know see me as just another beautiful face, and I’m tired of it. I need more in my life. Hell, I deserve a man who wants all of me, and not just what’s between my legs. Once upon a time I had that. If I shut my eyes, I can still picture his handsome face. But his love didn’t come with an expense account to take care of all my needs.

I slip inside my ten-year-old Infiniti coupe, start the engine, and crank up the air. Stale heat hits my face before a cool breeze takes over. I slip the band off my honey-blonde curls and rest my head against the seat. It’s time to consider my options. I could go home to my loft in Westwood, or I could drive out to Canoga Park and hang with my former roommate. The first choice offers solitude and a night with my Rabbit. Mental note—pick up more batteries. The second comes with dinner and possibly unwarranted criticism.

Celesta Hernandez, my best friend and sister from another mother, enjoys offering up solutions to my lack of a love life. She married her college sweetheart last year and now thinks everyone should get hitched. Thinking about the girl makes me smile though. When she’s not meddling, Celesta is a lot of fun. Her husband isn’t too bad either. The superfine Colombian is easy on the eyes, a wizard in the kitchen, and his arsenal of friends are hotter than hot.

My buzzing phone interrupts my thoughts. I reach for it and see Celesta’s name on the screen. Hey, girl. I was just thinking about you.

Please tell me I didn’t catch you at a bad time.

Naw. You’re good. I just finished with the shoot. I sigh and think about how my phone’s been ringing all day. Even if I weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. Mom’s been calling me all day with various requests.

Celesta laughs. Speaking of your mother… We’ve spent the day together. We made dinner, and you’re invited. Her words almost dance through the phone.

Shit. This can’t be good when my best friend teams up with my mother. They’ve had an entire day to talk about me and my lack of a husband. So, what’s on the menu?

"Veggie lasagna and arroz atollado."

The odd Italian-Colombian mix sounds a lot better than the reheated takeout waiting for me at home. What’s the one with rice?

It’s a dish with pork. Sort of like a risotto, Celesta explains.

About five and a half years ago, I became a vegan. The veggie lasagna, Mom’s specialty, is for me. Count me in. I check the car’s clock. If traffic’s not too bad, I’ll be there in an hour.

Good. She pauses with an awkward silence hanging in the air. Sinatra, try to wear something nice.

If Celesta’s telling me how to dress, this isn’t a normal dinner. Plus, I can’t ignore the fact she used my full name. No. This is not a casual get together. The reason why is apparent without asking, but I do so anyway. Who did my mother invite?

Don’t be mad, Sindy. An apology is in her voice. He appears to be a nice guy.

Wrong answer. Too much caution coats Celesta’s words. Who is he? Do I know him?

Her nervous laugh hurts my ear. Stop panicking. It’ll be fine. See you soon.

The Rabbit can wait. Then again if this man is a loser, I better pick up some batteries on my way to dinner.

Mom and Celesta are interfering in my life, but I know they mean well. Neither of them understand, however, that the right guy for me has to meet my standards not theirs.

I’m searching for a successful man who looks the part. He should be handsome, wear designer clothes, and have muscles to make a bodybuilder envious. He has to drive the right car—a foreign number where the service department comes to him. He must treat me like a queen—regaling me with the finer things while taking care of my every need. Mr. Perfection will be devoted to me and come with a hefty bank account. Is that too much to ask for?

Both Mom and Celesta feel I should lower my standards. They say no mortal man can meet them. Sorry, but I know what I want. Can’t blame a girl for reaching for the stars. Besides, my mother settled when she married my father. She let her heart decide, and that match came close to ruining us when he died. I experienced first hand what love can do to a person. It blinded my mother. She didn’t see his flaws. When he died we spiraled down into poverty. I’ll pass on a loving relationship if it doesn’t offer the means to take care of me. One day I hope not to have to work. I want the nice house and children.

I turn to my favorite channel on Sirius and back the car out of the parking space. I’ll pick up a bottle of red wine on the way. But first, I need to swing by my apartment to change out of my ripped jeans and casual top. If Celesta is right, maybe this man will help me forget about this afternoon’s debacle.

An hour and a half later, I reach Celesta’s ranch house. Bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 405 and an accident at Sherman Way and DeSoto slowed me down. Add frustration to my growing list of complaints.

Correction. Add anger.

A dark blue Mercedes takes up my usual spot in the driveway. If that belongs to my impromptu date, I might find a way to forgive him.

I pull down the sun visor and touch up my beige lipstick. I’m hoping the full-face makeup isn’t too much. Rich men prefer their women fashionable and glamorous, not looking like whores. Save that for the bedroom. I slam the visor back in place, grab the bottle of Barbera, and exit the car. The smell of grilled steak hits my nose as I approach the front door. What happened to the lasagna and pork and rice dish?

Before I can ring the bell, the door swings open. I frown at Celesta’s torn and faded jeans, cropped T-shirt, and bare feet. So. Not. Fair. Compared to her, my red wrap-dress and strappy sandals are too much.

Hey, Sindy! Come on in. Celesta takes the bottle from me, and the door thuds closed. I was wondering if you’d make it. What took you so long?

I tried to call, but you never picked up. I point to her outfit. What’s with—?

"Mi querida, your phone died. A handsome man with shoulder-length, brownish-black hair walks up. Celesta’s husband puts a tattooed arm around his wife’s waist and kisses her tawny-brown cheek. I put it on the charger in the bedroom."

It’s hard to believe this sexy man, who looks like an artist, is an accountant by day. It’s fine. I just called to say I was stuck in traffic.

The Latino god cups Celesta’s face uttering a few words in Spanish before planting a brief kiss on her full lips, and strolling out of the room.

Will I ever have someone who’ll treat me like I’m the center of his universe?

You did and you walked away.

He’s going to get my phone. Celesta jerks her head toward the backyard. Let’s go outside.

We walk across the polished oak floor, my heels reverberating like bullets, to the back patio. Mom and a man sit to one side talking. He stands as the sliding door opens.

Amun, Mom says, are the steaks ready yet?

I’m taking them off the grill now, Stephie. A man with black hair and a trimmed beard turns toward us. His obsidian eyes lock on mine. Forgive me for staring. This must be your daughter.

My jaw slackens, and then I clamp my mouth shut. I can’t believe he has the audacity to pull this stunt.

Mom smiles and takes the fork from him. Yes. Amun Rassoul, meet Sinatra. Honey, this is my friend Amun.

"Your friend?" I stammer. Not possible.

The first time I saw this man was at a photo shoot. I was instantly captivated by him. He ticked off all the points on my checklist, but his manner, a little too brash, unnerved me. He asked me out. I turned his fine ass down, but he keeps showing up, uninvited, at every event I attend. I’ve been dodging him for months. Now he’s ingratiating himself with my mother. The nerve of this man!

Stay calm.

A scene isn’t what’s needed. I’ll let my mother think I’m attracted to him.

Not much of a lie.

Time to summon up those skills I learned in the one acting class I had. I offer Amun a saccharine smile and let my eyes scrutinize his muscular body, appreciating how his button-down black shirt hugs his frame. His dark jeans do fit rather well, sculpting a tight ass. I even take notice of the soft leather shoes on his feet. Everything about the man says designer.

Put together.

Money.

Too bad it also says dangerous. He could be one of those men who thinks they’re mightier than God. If I hook up with him, I might find myself part of some ritual sacrifice.

Amun responds with a curt nod. Stupid fool thinks I’m interested in him.

I wet my lips and glance over at Mom. How do you know each other?

He’s a personal chef, she offers with a little too much enthusiasm.

Really? I can’t hide the skepticism in my voice. He’s no more a personal chef than I am the Queen of Egypt.

Mom takes my hand and pulls me to her. The fruity wine on her breath hits my face. I wonder how many drinks she’s had. Be nice, Sinatra. He’s a respectful man. You should get to know him.

I glance past her shoulder. A mischievous look hangs on Amun’s face. In my overly aroused state, I don’t need to be alone with him. My coming here was a mistake.

Dinner will be ready soon, Celesta announces from the door. Stephie, can you help me with the food in the kitchen?

Without thinking, I blurt out, I’ll do it.

Nonsense. Mom squeezes my hand. Stay out here and keep Amun company.

Mom follows Celesta inside. The door clicks shut, and my stalker edges closer.

It’s good to see you again, Sin. His voice reverberates around me.

Sinatra, I hiss. Only those close to me may call me Sin.

I’d like to be close to you. His hand brushes across my arm. If you’d let me.

My scalp prickles as I step back. Let’s get something straight, Amun. I told you before I’m not interested. Nothing’s changed.

He draws near. Yes, that’s what you said, but I don’t believe it. You seek the world, and I can offer it. Just give me a moment to show you.

I don’t care if he has more gold than Tutankhamen. Danger wafts off him like a foul breeze. "Un-uh. Ain’t happening. We’ll have dinner and go our separate ways. Comprende?"

Oh, I understand perfectly. He invades my space, blocking my path. The moon casts an eerie light around him. Ant malakati.

What did you say?

A mist settles over me before I can say anything else. I turn to leave, but the ground tilts beneath my feet. An earthquake? My vision blurs for a moment, and I’m seeing double.

Amun grasps my elbow, steadying me. His breath fans my cheek. It’s a sinless sound, almost pure the way it caresses my skin. I have you, my queen.

My head hurts as strange images filter through my mind. I grasp my temples and see a pyramid. A row of ram-headed sphinxes lines an expansive walkway. A room full of golden artifacts appears, and then I see a man and a woman sitting side by side. Snapshots of another time, another place, keep bombarding me. It feels like I’m falling.

What’s happening to me? I grimace and shake my head. The motion makes me dizzy.

Hands land on my arm. I look up, and my eyes meet Amun’s. He’s speaking, but the words he says make no sense. A dark shadow flits across his face as cold air swirls around us. When did the Santa Anas turn chilly?

Something palpable reaches out from the bone-chilling abyss. The presence seems old, and hatred filters through it. Fingers settle on my shoulder and freeze my spine. A creepy sensation, like what you get on a dark and dangerous night, surrounds me. Common sense says run away, but my muscles stiffen and lock me in place.

Amun says something foreign. Those words become fists and punch me hard, knocking the breath out of me. I drop to my hands and knees, gasping. A hand rubs my back, and those same alien words enable my breathing again. I feel intoxicated.

I blink, and as my vision returns to normal, I find I’m standing on my own two feet. Amun’s hand is on my arm.

What the hell just happened to me? Did I just imagine all of that?

I’m sorry. I bite the inside of my cheek and avert my eyes. Did you say something to me?

You were telling me about your day, he replies.

Why would I tell him, or anyone other than Celesta, about what happened earlier?

Amun takes my hand in his and kisses my palm. "I said you are too beautiful to be so frustrated. You deserve to be treated like a malika, a queen."

His heavily accented, smoky voice lulls me into a safe place. Tension slides from my shoulders like a passing storm. Amun’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer.

If you let me, I will shower you with all the riches of the pharaohs. You will sit by my side throughout eternity.

Eternity?

What the hell is he talking about?

Amun caresses my jaw with a finger, and confusion clears from my mind. This is insanity. It has to be. A voice in my head screams, Fight it! This isn’t right! But my body tingles at Amun’s words. Shame and desire mingle hot in my throat. His mouth comes close, begging for a kiss.

Dinner’s up, Celesta announces from behind us.

Amun drops his arm, and I step back. My gaze darts around the patio. I’m lightheaded and a little disoriented. Footsteps clomp across the pavers. I look up to see Celesta standing with her arms crossed and her lips pursed.

What’s her problem?

Celesta arches a questioning eyebrow in my direction.

What? I say.

Sinatra Alberta Neeley, what was that about? Celesta says with her hands on her hips.

Not the whole name. It’s bad enough when Mom goes there. I don’t need it from my best friend, too. I don’t know.

Seriously, Sindy? She shakes her head. You claim you want a good man, and then, you throw yourself at the first one you meet.

I did no such thing.

Celesta tilts her head to the side. Not what it looked like to me.

My face tightens. Spiteful words dance on the edge of my tongue, but I won’t argue with Celesta. A free meal isn’t worth destroying a friendship over.

You know something? I’m not hungry anymore, I snap. Thanks for the invite, but I’m going home.

Celesta shouts, Sindy, don’t be this way.

I ignore her and walk through the open door. Twice in one day somebody wants to tell me how to act after stepping all over my feelings. Sorry. Life doesn’t work that way.

I’m unlocking my car door when I sense someone behind me. I whirl around, expecting to see Celesta. Instead it’s Amun. His gaze lingers on me while his hands stay tucked in his pockets.

Sin, why are you leaving so soon? Hurt rings in his voice.

I can’t bother with him or anyone right now. What the hell just happened back there? This is all too much. I just need to go home.

Did I do something wrong?

His hands land on either side of the vehicle, trapping me. Amun’s fingers caress my skin through my dress. My body betrays me and sinks into the hard planes of his muscles. His heartbeat calms my spirit. Slowly, I turn to him on unsure legs.

You did nothing wrong. It’s been a long day and I’m tired, that’s all, I lie.

I don’t believe you. He lifts my chin, and our eyes meet. "At this very minute, your mother and best friend argue. They think you’re upset with them or with me."

I swallow hard. I’m not upset with anyone, especially you.

Prove it, my queen. His hand snakes through my hair.

His queen? What is he talking about? I didn’t agree to anything. While I’m trying to put the puzzle together, Amun cups the back of my head and claims my lips with his.

My body and mind are at war. One wants to relish the moment while the other puts up a fence. It’s telling me to stop before it goes too far. It’s trying hard to remind me of all the doubts I’ve had about Amun. But the imaginary devil on my shoulder screams at me to have a little fun. After all, I’ve had a shitty day and deserve to enjoy myself.

As I surrender to Amun’s kiss, the heady scent of frankincense and myrrh wraps around us like a cloak falling out of the dark. His mouth is tender, but his embrace is sure. It promises me of all that I’ve ever sought—a man dedicated to me while fulfilling my every desire. The kiss kindles a sharp, desperate need within me. I need more of him.

Later, he says against my hungry mouth. I will call upon you in a few days. Be ready for me, my queen.

I start to protest, but I can’t find the words to do so. Instead, I nod and accept his help with the car lock. Amun makes sure my seat belt is secure. He even places the key in the ignition. My body tingles so hard I’m not sure I can drive home.

He leans over the open window. You will be fine, Sin. Go home. Dream of me.

"I will, malik alaliha, king of the gods."

2

SINATRA

The road is blurry and full of shadows. I can’t even see the white line as I pull away from the curb. Rubbing my eyes only smears my makeup. Despite the veil blocking my vision, I manage to steer my car onto DeSoto Avenue. The farther I get from Celesta’s house, the more the fog lifts. My hands tremble as I press on the accelerator, speeding toward the 101 and home.

Why did I go to Canoga Park? Fractured memories of a man and an argument with Celesta filter through my mind. No matter how hard I try, my brain