by Marian Tee
“I’m doing this for you, trust me.”
“And I’m saying it’s not necessary.” She then mimicked his tone, saying firmly, “Trust me.”
But the sheikh only smiled, and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was right.
Now was not the right time yet.
The sheikh insisted on eating her cake despite her protests, and worse, he also had her feeding him every bite while she remained self-consciously curled on his lap, and the “thing” was underneath her ass.
He asked her if what Aisha had told him was true, and Hyacinth had a hard time keeping herself from turning red as she shrugged and admitted it was so. “I’m sleeping here, with you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She glared at the sheikh. “Got that?”
In answer, the sheikh once again surprised her by scooping her into his arms, and she let out a gasp as he unceremoniously threw her on his massive bed. He chuckled at the way her dainty figure bounced on the bed, and as he dipped down on one knee, a buzzing in her head began, and her heart, its desire overwhelming the pleas of her mind, began to hammer.
She waited just until the sheikh was close enough, and then her arms were loping around his neck. A surprised laugh escaped him as she forced him to roll on his back, and she ended up straddling him.
“Are you thinking of having your way with me, majamira?” the sheikh teased.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
And before either of them could think things through, Hyacinth had already bent her head down to press her lips on his.
Rayyan stiffened, his big, hard body tensing under her soft, trembling form as he felt her lips press harder to his.
Both of them knew he could push her away at any moment, and it was exactly what he was thinking of doing. But as his hands settled on her tiny waist, he felt it.
Her pain wetting his cheeks, dribbling down to his lips, locking the oxygen in his throat –
And most of all, he heard her silent cries.
Why?
Why?
Why?
His hands, meant to push her away, tightened around her waist instead.
Why won’t you make me yours?
A tiny sob broke out of her as the sheikh hauled her down, leaving not a millimeter of space between their hearts, and the lips under hers, cold and hard for so long, moved away from her mouth.
She almost cried out, thinking this was the end of her – the end of them – until she felt it.
His lips moving down, and her heart hammered harder and faster against her chest at the tantalizingly slow descent of his mouth.
Down, down, down –
His lips paused just before her collarbone, and her arms instinctively went around his neck.
He began to suck, and her body jerked over his. It was more beautiful than she could ever imagine, but oh how it hurt.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Because no matter how much she wished she could pretend this was more than a kiss – it was not.
And when he finally lifted his head, the heat of his lips leaving a tiny red brand on her neck, the only hope she had left to cling to was the bleak promise in his gaze.
If it were up to me…
More than anyone else in the world…
I’d want it to be you.
Chapter Eleven
Staff members of the finance department hurried to bow respectfully as Sheikh Altair Al-Atassi strode past them. Unlike the other royal sheikhs, the kingdom’s army commander’s lethal build was more brawny than whipcord lean, and the intimidating scar that ran from his left eyelid until the edge of his chiseled face only intensified the aura of danger surrounding him.
If Sheikh Rayyan was often likened to a serpent feared because one never knew when it would strike, people feared the sheikh – once the kingdom’s deadliest assassin – for the opposite reason. With Sheikh Altair, one would always see him coming, and the mere thought of this was so frightening that using him as a threat was often enough to win wars without the kingdom having waged a single battle.
Gadi froze when he saw the sheikh heading towards the private office of his employer. “Ah…um…err…”
Altair raised a brow his way. “Were you saying something?”
Sheikh Rayyan is in a bad mood.
Sheikh Rayyan has just been dumped.
Sheikh Rayyan does not wish to be disturbed.
But with the other sheikh mere inches away from him, self-survival won, and Gadi said with a gulp, “Nothing, alshaykh.” And he hurriedly opened the doors for the sheikh while mentally reciting a prayer. Allah save me, but please make Sheikh Rayyan understand that only a fool would even think of getting in Altair Al-Atassi’s way.
Altair was amused at the way his normally observant cousin remained incognizant to his presence and was instead focused too intently on the phone he held in his hand. Moving forward, he took a look –
“Lueta.” Damn it. “What the hell are you doing here?” Rayyan swiftly shoved his phone back into his pocket, but the perplexed expression on the other sheikh’s face told him he was already too late.
Altair stared hard at the other man. “Hyacinth Kahveci?” The girl’s name on top of the text message thread had been the only thing he caught, but the way the other man’s expression turned decidedly flushed made him wonder about the impossible –
“Lueta.” It was Altair’s turn to curse. “Don’t tell me you two have been sexting?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rayyan snapped even as he felt the stain of color on his face deepening. “She’s too young for me, and she’s never been my type. You should know better---”
“All I know,” Altair drawled as he sank into the seat across Rayyan’s desk, “is that you’re acting too damn defensive.”
Shit. Rayyan’s lips clamped shut. The other man was right. He was being defensive, and he only had himself to blame.
If he had known that one forbidden taste of her would be enough to drive him insane, he thought savagely, he would’ve ignored all common sense and simply gave her what they both knew she had come for.
Altair had to school his expression as he viewed the frustration stamped over Rayyan’s features. How the hell had this happened? Hyacinth might have lived under the same roof as them for most of her life, but as far as Altair knew, that was the extent of her connection to Rayyan.
Anisah, her older sister, was the one they all spent more time with, not Hyacinth. Moreover, Rayyan’s taste in women had always run towards the more mature and sophisticated variety – women like his former mistress Jemima Black, who was nothing at all like the seventeen-year-old girl.
“Tell me something.” Leaning forward, Altair asked point blank, “Is something going on between you and the younger Kahveci?”
“No.”
Altair knew the truth when he heard it, but even so, there was something about the other sheikh’s shuttered expression that didn't completely add up. It was almost as if…
“Give it up,” Rayyan said irritably, noting the way Altair was studying him. “There’s nothing for you to figure out.” He changed the subject then, making it clear he was done talking about the subject by asking Altair the reason for his visit.
As expected, the other man took the hint, and it was only when Altair left and he was alone again that Rayyan allowed himself to take another look at his phone –
Aira. Fuck.
How long was she going to ignore him, dammit?
It happened the way it always happened, evil striking when and where it hurt the most. On the weekend celebration of the Emir Sheikh’s birthday, an occasion in which the whole kingdom was invited to take part in the festivities, a mob of protesters came charging to the gates of the palace, their viciously frenzied cries deliberately fanned by those wanting to bring the royal family down.
Even more tragic was how in the midst of this chaos, the kingdom’s recently crowned Queen, an independent American woman who had won the hearts
of Ramilians for her brave and loyal defense of the oppressed, rushed out of the ball like a heartbroken Cinderella, tears streaming down her face as she seemed to force herself to publicly denounce her marriage to the king.
In an instant, battle lines were drawn, and as violence ensued, the sound of clashing swords and screams of pain ripped into the silence of the night.
News traveled ever so slowly, hampered by the sorry fact that the palace had been blindsided by the opposition’s bold move. The attack was an eye-opener, forcing the palace to acknowledge the devastatingly callous cruelty in which its foes sowed the seeds of anarchy, regardless of the number of innocent lives it would have to sacrifice for its cause.
Throughout this, however, Hyacinth had been curled asleep on the couch in the sheikh’s private office, with the sheikh having given her an ultimatum via a curtly worded message.
I would appreciate if you were to wait for me at my office tonight. I expect the king’s ball to be done before midnight. If, however, I do not find you there, then I shall take that as your desire to no longer have anything to do with me.
Exactly two weeks had passed since the sheikh’s birthday, and things still hadn’t completely gone back to normal between them. Numerous times, the sheikh had tried to talk about what happened, but she had outright rejected every attempt.
Like seriously, what kind of girl would want to relive the fact that the guy she liked did not want to kiss her?
She had fallen asleep fuming over the sheikh’s denseness, and when she woke, it was to find her mobile phone besieged by a barrage of messages and news alerts. Anisah had texted, saying that she would be spending the rest of the night helping out with first responders. There were also several missed calls from Mrs. B., and twice the number of frantic messages that asked the same question. Is the sheikh with you? Is he safe?
Terror seized her ever so slowly as she read the words, a sense of foreboding making the hairs on her neck rise. Something was wrong, something was so badly wrong. Her fingers shook as she started to scroll through the news, and a cry broke out of her as pictures of the attack flooded her screen.
Authorities still trying to get a firm grasp on the number of casualties…
As of press time, Queen Harper is airborne and safely en route to America.
It has been confirmed that the Emir Sheikh himself and all four of his vassals had engaged in armed conflict.
Hyacinth’s phone fell from her nerveless fingers.
And then she was running, blinded by tears and deafened by the sledgehammer pounding of her heart. Her bare feet slapped against the cold hard ground of the tunnels as she frantically made her way to the sheikh’s bedchamber.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Tears rushed down her cheeks.
I’ll do anything.
She lost her footing, scraping her knees, but she pushed herself up, unmindful of the ugly red gash on her skin.
Just please keep him safe.
She was vaguely aware that she had started to bleed, but she couldn’t care any less. She just needed to see with her own eyes that he was safe.
A tiny gasp of relief broke past her lips when she finally reached the tunnel that opened straight to the sheikh’s bedroom, and as she started to push the panel to the side – that was when she saw…that was when she heard…that was when she knew.
Finally, finally, finally she knew why.
Chapter Twelve
“I was terrified I’d find you hurt or worse,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear the thought of n-not finding you in time...” She raised her hand shakily, a part of her still so, so afraid of touching the face that had haunted her dreams for as long as she could remember.
But the moment her fingers finally came into contact with his blood-crusted skin, it was like touching home, and a sob escaped her as the tear gates broke, and all her pent-up feelings poured out.
Oh, how she loved him.
“Rayyan.”
It was heaven and hell to say his name, and it took so much out of her that if not for his strong arms catching her she would have fallen apart completely, in every goddamn way there was to break.
Rayyan felt her begin to tremble, heard her struggling to breathe, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
This wasn’t right, dammit.
But even knowing this, even knowing she couldn’t ever be his, and they couldn’t ever be together –
His arms still remained around her, his heart still beating for her. It always had, ever since the moment he laid his eyes on her.
She wept in his arms, her tears telling him what her lips couldn’t bear to speak out loud. It was heaven and hell, the way it felt so good to be with her even when it was wrong. That was how it always seemed to be between them.
His fists clenched and unclenched against his sides, but as sobs continued to wrack her body, his self-control deserted him, and he slowly lifted his hand to stroke her hair.
“Oh, Rayyan.”
His fingers threaded through the silky locks of her hair, and it was agony to feel its forbidden softness.
“Oh God, Rayyan.”
He sucked in his breath when she suddenly lifted her head and took hold of his hand so she could press her cheek against his palm. Lost dark eyes clung to his as her rosebud lips slowly parted, and words that he had never thought she would say came tumbling out.
“You were right all along. I should have…we should have…”
The tiniest noise coming from the secret wall panel at the back drew his attention, and he stiffened, knowing exactly what it meant.
Noticing the sheikh’s whitened expression, Cecile felt her cheeks color with mortification even as she forced herself to ask, “Is it t-too late?”
When he only stared at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw, she impulsively pressed a hand over his chest and felt almost weak with relief when she felt the way his heart thundered.
“You still love me,” she whispered tremulously. “D-Don’t you?”
“Nem.” Yes.
Even knowing that such an admission would mean heaven for one girl and hell for another –
“I still do.”
The truth was ripped out of Rayyan; there was nothing else for him to do with the girl he had loved for fourteen years looking at him like she was about to break any moment.
“Oh thank God.” She collapsed against him once more.
It took almost thirty minutes before he was able to calm Cecile down and another half hour to escort her back to her home, having persuaded her to give it time before making any rash decisions.
Once you’re no longer in shock, he promised quietly, we’ll talk.
Cecile looked at him one last time, and the truth was in her eyes. It was what he had long suspected, with neither the passage of time nor condemning traditions able to shatter the ties that bound their fates together.
He should be over the fucking moon about it, but the moment she disappeared from view, all his thoughts were for someone else, and it was all Rayyan could do not to tear down walls in his haste to get to her.
Please.
Let her still be there.
Please.
Even when he didn’t deserve her, even when he still had no fucking idea what to say –
Please.
Hyacinth heard the door slide open, but she couldn’t even find the energy to look up, couldn’t even make herself save some face and wipe the tears from her eyes.
“Hyacinth.”
She wanted to stop crying, wanted to show some damn pride, but she just couldn’t.
“I’m sorry.”
It just hurt. It hurt so goddamn much.
“Please, majamira.”
How absurdly apt that name seemed now, and to think she once thought it made her different from the rest. A near-crazed laugh almost spilled out of her. Well, now she knew better.
Words didn’t make people yours.
“Say something.”
Wo
rds couldn’t always fix things.
“Please.”
No matter how much both of them wanted it otherwise, sometimes…words were just words.
Chapter Thirteen
“Sametanira?” Did you hear me?
Rayyan cursed under his breath when he realized he had let his thoughts drift away from the meeting, and even worse was the fact that the Emir Sheikh had caught him doing it.
“Maehdina.” I’m sorry.
A frown marred Khalil’s forehead as he studied the other man. It was unlike Rayyan at all to be distracted, and yet in the past few months, that was exactly the way the kingdom’s finance chief had been acting.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked finally.
“La.” No.
Khalil had expected as much, and when he joined his wife in bed that night, he was disconcerted to hear Harper voicing the same concerns he had. “Don’t you think something’s going on with Rayyan?”
Rolling his wife to her back, Khalil gazed down at his queen with a scowl of mock distrust. “Should I be concerned that you are thinking of another man while you’re in bed with me?”
Harper rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.” She gave him a little push, and the king obliged her silent command, allowing her to reverse their positions and letting her roll on top of him. “He normally bites my head off for the smallest of things, but these days…”
Smoothing the lines on her forehead, he said quietly, “It’s how he is.” He paused. “Or rather – and you will never hear any of us saying this in Rayyan’s presence – it is what his parents forced him to be.”
Harper sat up in surprise. “Princess Rowena or Prince Anthony?”
“Both.” Pushing himself up, the king leaned against the headboard and pulled his wife to his side. “They’re good parents…”
“But they make better politicians?” She barely knew the couple, but what she had read about them was enough to tell her they would never win any parenting awards.
“There’s no question about how much they love Rayyan, but work always come first with them.” Khalil’s tone was flat. “What’s worse is how they’ve done their best to shape Rayyan’s mind similarly. Even when we were young, Rayyan had never been the type to get into trouble. He was the perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect prince – he knew that if he made the smallest mistake, people would blame it on his parents’ absence, which would then prevent them from doing their duty.”
