Malik: Desert Sheikh Romance

by Marian Tee

  He slowly shook his head. “I don’t.”

  “But you were suffering---”

  “If you had known earlier,” he said flatly, “then I wouldn’t have been able to help myself. I would have fucked you the moment I knew you wanted me back – and your age wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

  Oh.

  He stared up at her with dark, haunted eyes. “Does it scare you, Ky? How much I want you?”

  She knew she should say ‘yes.’ She knew she should think he was wrong, and that her age should have mattered. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

  “I’ll never be scared of you, Malik,” she whispered.

  He let out a despairing laugh. “You should be.”

  “Maybe. But I can’t.” A tender smile wobbled on her lips. “You know what I always say. You’re my favorite person in the world---”

  A hoarse chuckle escaped the sheikh.

  “So how can I ever be scared of you?”

  Throughout his life, Malik had always been inclined towards subtlety rather than taking a direct approach to any objective he set his sight on. Perhaps it was because like all younger sons, he had been born with the need to prove himself different and at least equal to Altair, but he had also wanted to do so without giving the world any reason to think that he was envious of his older brother, which he had never been.

  Perhaps it also had something to do with being subconsciously aware of his feelings for Kyria for almost half of his life, and the knowledge had forced Malik to learn how to operate in the shadows, far away from prying eyes.

  Perhaps it could be none or all of these reasons, but either way, it was a tactic he had long exceled in, and as such the sheikh didn’t hesitate to employ the same strategy in introducing Kyria’s new role in his life.

  On Kyria’s second week with him and with summer soon coming to a close, the sheikh decided it was time to take her with him to a social function that he had to attend as a representative of the royal family. Kyria had of course accepted his invitation without demur, considering it as part of her responsibilities as Vanna’s legal ward. And so it was, but only when it was too late did she realize that Malik had also intended the event to serve as her baptism by fire.

  “Malik, please,” she protested under her breath three hours later. “Everyone’s staring.” And although she wished she were exaggerating, Kyria knew she was speaking the truth. Everyone was staring, and rightfully so.

  It had started with luncheon, when Malik had insisted that she sit next to him rather than across him, as was the original seating arrangement planned by the host. It was a little high-handed of him, but then again he was a sheikh who was used to having his orders followed, and so Kyria – and no doubt the other guests – had simply shrugged it off.

  Unfortunately, Kyria thought glumly, that was Mistake #1.

  Malik had also insisted on being a proper gentleman, too much so, actually, by not only pulling out Kyria’s chair for her but also unfolding her napkin and placing it on her lap.

  She should have known by then, Kyria thought with a private sigh. Instead, she had told herself not to make a big deal over it, which was of course Mistake #2.

  The third one took place almost right after, when their first course was served. With different menus for men and women, Malik had then insisted to have Kyria taste his…by feeding her a bite…for every course…

  And there were ten courses, Kyria recalled in despair.

  By the time desserts were deserved, the few people who had so far resisted the temptation to stare at them had completely lost the battle, and Kyria could only comfort herself with the thought that the worst was over…which was of course Mistake #4.

  As the conversation in the table turned idly to random topics, Malik had casually put an arm around Kyria’s shoulder. Later on, his hand went to the small of her back. In another instance, his fingers had curved around her waist. All perfectly innocuous touches that shouldn’t have raised any eyebrows---

  If the world didn’t think of them as brother and sister, that was.

  And now, as if the sheikh wished to cap the day with a coup de grace, was Mistake #5.

  As the music changed tempo, Malik twirled her around in an expert move, and despite her embarrassment, her body moved on its own volition, her steps automatically following his. She let out a little gasp as he spun her back to his arms, and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest as he looked down at her with a decidedly rakish smile.

  “Having fun?”

  “No!”

  But the sheikh only laughed. “What a liar you’ve become, shaqifa.”

  “M-Malik!” Her face turned even redder. “Don’t call me that if you’re not going to act like you see me as…” Her voice stumbled to a stop.

  “A what?” he asked with a grin.

  “You know what!”

  The sheikh sighed. “Alright, Ky. I solemnly swear never to call you that again---”

  She started to breathe a sigh of relief.

  “If you can honestly tell me you aren’t turned on when I call you my little sister.”

  Kyria lost her footing and would’ve fallen flat on her face if not for the sheikh swiftly pulling her into his arms even as his broad shoulders shook in silent laughter.

  As they left the dance floor, Kyria couldn’t stop fretting over the huge scandal looming before them. “I can just see all those horrible headlines,” she muttered, “and I can easily imagine Khalil wringing my neck.”

  Malik snorted. “Khalil knows better than to interfere in my affairs.”

  “But this isn’t just your affair,” she protested under her breath as they returned to her table. “We’re both part of the palace and---”

  “Hallo,” a lovely, familiar voice intruded cheerfully, and soon after Farica popped into view, looking resplendent in the shortest mini-dress that Kyria had ever seen.

  “Wow.” Kyria was genuinely impressed. “Your family let you out in that?”

  Malik shot her a look. “Don’t even fucking think of it.”

  “Oooooh.” Farica’s eyes sparkled. “I can see so much has changed since the last time I saw you two.” Bending down to kiss Kyria on the cheek, she whispered, “Has Malik told you about today?”

  Kyria frowned as the other girl pulled back. “Told me about what?”

  Farica rolled her eyes as she took the seat next to Kyria and shook her head disapprovingly at Malik. “Such a typical male you are, Sheikh.” Her gaze turned sly. “Or were you deliberately keeping it a secret because you wanted to see if it would make her jealous?”

  “Of course not.” The sheikh’s tone was stiff, but a noticeable flush had stained his sharply defined cheeks, and the sight had Farica bursting into laughter.

  Bending close to Kyria, she cupped a hand over her mouth as she whispered, “Remember the time you guys visited my club?”

  Kyria nodded.

  “He did it as a favor, and one which I was expected to return in the future, whenever the need arises.” Farica grinned. “Who would have thought that this is the kind of favor he’d be asking?”

  Kyria was still bewildered. “I’m sorry. But I still don’t get it.”

  Farica patted her hand. “You will in a bit. Just watch and then follow the trail in social media.” And with that, she turned to the sheikh, and Kyria was surprised at the suddenly seductive look that the other and much prettier girl directed at Malik as she cooed, “Didn’t you promise me a dance tonight?”

  To Kyria’s even greater surprise, the sheikh stood and without a single look at her offered his hand to Farica. “Wouldn't miss it for the world, sweetheart.”

  Kyria choked. Sweetheart? But as it turned out, this was just one of the many other surprises Farica and the sheikh had in store for the day. The two danced for three consecutive songs, and Kyria had to admit that the two made an incredibly lovely pair with their contrasting looks. Just looking at them made her jealous, although not to the point that she found herself hating on
Farica the way she had used to with Katerina. Maybe it was because she was more mature now, or maybe it was because she was more secure of the sheikh’s feelings for her. Either way, while her heart experienced a little twinge here and there at seeing Malik dance with another girl, most of her thoughts were focused on the ongoing and increasingly loud chatter over at social media.

  Having taken Farica’s advice, Kyria had indeed started checking the usual social media sites for news about the sheikh and the Dutch heiress. Soon enough tweets and posts started popping up, the content of which had Kyria drawing her breath. Majority of these came from Ramil’s more Internet-savvy citizens, with everyone first expressing their mixed sentiments about the photos that showed Kyria and Malik’s closeness.

  Isn’t that incestuous?

  Lannister alert!

  Jamie and Cersei, Ramil version.

  But then, other photos showed up, this time of the sheikh and Farica de Konigh dancing, and the thread of conversation took on a different turn.

  OMG. Not Little Miss Shallow!

  That girl is not for our kingdom!

  Show some taste, Sheikh!

  And finally, the two threads merged into one conversation.

  I don’t know about you guys, but I’d rather ship MaRia than these two.

  AFAIK Kyria Markides is Vanna Al-Atassi’s legal ward, so technically not the sheikh’s sister.

  Farica de Konigh vs. Kyria Markides? Thinking it’s better we choose someone homegrown, you know?

  By the time Malik and Farica returned to their table, everything was perfectly clear, and Kyria made a face the moment she met the sheikh’s gaze. “You should have told me from the start,” she muttered.

  Farica nodded supportively. “He should have but---” Her voice turned sweet. “The dear man wanted to see you jealous. Were you?”

  Kyria thought about lying, but then she saw the way Malik stiffened as if a part of him was preparing himself for a denial. Oh, sweet heavens, how could this beautiful man still not realize how much he meant to her?

  And so she heard herself say, “More than I thought possible.” And when the sheikh turned to her with burning dark eyes---

  He was right after all, Kyria thought dazedly, and it was more so than he probably imagined. He had told her once that they would both know when it was the right time, and he was right. Sometimes, you just knew, and tonight was that night. Tonight, it was time for him to make Kyria his.

  But it was more than that, too. Sometimes, when you loved a person – you just knew. It would come out of nowhere, for no reason, but you just knew, with all your heart, without a shadow of doubt – you loved that person.

  And that was Malik.

  If one were to ask her when exactly had she stopped seeing him as a brother, Kyria knew she wouldn’t be able to answer. If one were to ask her when exactly had she started loving him, the way a man loved a man, she wouldn’t be able to answer that either.

  But it didn’t make her feelings any less real or true.

  Sometimes, you just knew.

  And right now – her heart was dying for him to know the same thing. She wanted Malik to know she loved him, wanted him to know that he had not waited in vain for a seven-year-old girl to grow up and find her way back to him.

  When it was time to go, Malik and Kyria stayed with Farica while they waited for her driver to come up the driveway, but as soon as they were alone, she turned to look up at the sheikh, saying simply, “I love you, Malik.”

  She laid her head against his chest, happy just to have found the courage to say the words, and thus missing the way the sheikh had suddenly whitened. He did not, in any way, look like a man who was equally happy to be loved.

  “Marhava, Emir Sheikh.”

  “Everything alright?” Khalil asked his youngest cousin as soon as he heard Malik’s ragged tone over the phone.

  Malik lowered himself to the couch and leaned his head back. “I’m not sure how I should answer that.” The rest of the study was dark and quiet, but it did nothing to soothe the savage tension inside of him.

  “Is this about the dance?”

  His lips twisted. “It’s made the rounds then?”

  “The gossip about you and Farica de Konigh or Kyria?” Khalil didn’t wait for an answer. “Both have been extensively covered by our local media, and so far the odds are 8:1 in Kyria’s favor.” The king paused. “It’s as you predicted when you told us of your plan, so why the hell do you sound like you’ve just lost the war?”

  “Because I might still have.”

  Khalil frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “A member of my staff came to me while we were still at the event,” Malik said harshly. “I had assigned him years ago to monitor anything or anyone that might have something to do with Kyria. For the most part, his reports had been restricted to her grades in university, the people she associated with, but it was different this time.” Malik closed his eyes. “My staff’s contact at Kyria’s university informed him that the university was in the process of filing a formal request for Kyria to attend a disciplinary hearing. Apparently, their board of directors has a couple of conservative members who were offended by the possibility of Kyria and me---”

  “Bullshit.” Khalil’s tone was coldly furious. “If your own palace does not question the legality of your relationship, what gives them the right to do so?”

  “She is a student of their school,” Malik said wearily.

  “Then have her transfer,” the king snapped.

  “And if the same thing happens?” Malik demanded. “Must I have her transfer every time such things occur?” His tone turned bitter. “Must I have Kyria experience such hardship because I was foolish and selfish enough to fall in love with my own sister?”

  “Lueta, Malik.” Khalil nearly slammed his fist against his desk in a fit of frustration. “Why are you speaking such nonsense now? It is not as if these thoughts had never occurred to you in the past.”

  “They had.”

  “And yet you continued to love her, and now, from what I’ve heard, she appears to love you back.”

  Malik didn’t answer right away. In his mind, he saw her looking up at him, innocent and beautiful. In his mind, he heard her say the words---

  I love you, Malik.

  His fist clenched. She had said it so simply, so sweetly, said it like she had meant every word. But how could she? He had known that he was in love with her for years. But what basis could Kyria have to know she indeed felt the same way about him?

  “Is that the problem?” the king demanded. “You think she does not love you?”

  “The problem,” Malik said with a bleak laugh, “is that I never let myself imagine that she would love me back. And somehow, even now, I can’t seem to make myself believe that she does. That she could ever love me.”

  “This is Kyria, for Allah’s sake. She’s adored you for almost her entire life---”

  “As a brother,” Malik interrupted tonelessly. “But I do not want her as a brother. I do not want her as my sister, and heaven be damned, Khalil, but what if this all turned out to be a mistake? What if she has only confused infatuation with love? How can I let her face tomorrow’s hearing and have her subjected to vile words when there shouldn’t be a reason for her to be there in the first place?”

  It was almost midnight by the time Malik’s call with the king ended and arrangements for tomorrow had been finalized. After leaving the study, he began to look for Kyria around the suite, all the while wondering what exactly he could say upon finding her.

  Maybe it was better if he left everything to be discussed tomorrow, the sheikh thought heavily as he closed the doors of the empty balcony and moved farther down the hallway, his footsteps falling noiselessly on the carpet. To his surprise, he didn’t find her in his room either, which was where Kyria usually waited for him every time she expected him to return late.

  Could she have left, Malik wondered tensely. What if she had found out about tomorrow�
��s hearing from someone else?

  Pausing outside her door, he breathed hard and told himself he would react…calmly if she were indeed gone. If he learned that she had indeed left him of her own volition and for whatever reason, he would…accept it.

  Malik reached for the knob, and it turned silently in his fingers as the door opened.

  He sucked in his breath.

  The first thing he saw was Kyria, lying on the bed, and she was touching herself.

  In the week or so that she had spent with Malik, it was quite rare for the sheikh to leave her alone, and whenever he did, it was with the utmost reluctance and only for the most drastic of reasons. Tonight, unfortunately, was one of those nights. I need to speak with the king, the sheikh had said rather abruptly on their ride back to the hotel. And because he only tended to refer to Khalil as his ‘king’ in circumstances related to the state, Kyria had nodded understandingly.

  She might have been looking forward to tonight’s intimacies, but she would never be so selfish as to be an obstacle that could prevent Malik from performing his duties as the king’s vassal.

  So whatever happens, Kyria had told herself, I’ll wait patiently for him.

  This, however, was easier said than done, and when it was close to midnight and the sheikh had yet to return, Kyria threw herself on her bed and stared up at her ceiling blankly. This time of the day was her special time with the sheikh, a time when she could succumb to his---

  Oh!

  The images that flashed in her mind made her wince, a part of her still unable to believe how her mind kept diving back into the gutter every time she thought of Malik. It was mortifying, but she just couldn’t seem to help herself.

  Her eyes closed, and she found herself imagining him again, lingering on each part of his body---

  His hair made her think of how she loved to clutch his head whenever he went down on her. His handsome face made her imagine of how he would look if she gave him her virginity. His back made her wonder if she would end up scratching it when they made love.