Nimmet, Goddess of Love

133 Pages·2016·0.57 MB·English

by  Rabiyah Anastasia

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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
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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.