Genetics is not destiny, he told himself as he swallowed hard, watching the woman who’d taken his innocence step into the fading light of the grand old room. She wore a long dark tunic, traditional Arab dress but with no head covering. Her hair was still thick and lustrous, that mix of Arabian and European blood giving her skin a light brown sheen that had been passed on to Maddy.
Genetics is not destiny, he told himself again as he watched her walk towards him like a dream or perhaps a nightmare. But that does not mean destiny does not exist. It does, and Maddy is my destiny.
He fought the urge to try to go after Maddy, pushing aside the thought of what might be going on behind closed doors. Clearly Maddy had wanted to get his father to lose his temper and pull her away from the guards. But did she want more than that? Was it possible her memories of that time were not all horror and pain?
Ya Allah, what are you thinking, the Sheikh told himself as his head spun from the way his stepmother was looking at him, her light brown eyes catching the light and reflecting it like she was hypnotizing him. He blinked again, wondering what was happening to him. Was it the impact of seeing her again? This woman who’d had such an impact on him when he was a child? Or was it something else, something more?
He saw her lips move, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He stepped closer, frowning as he tried to make out the words, and just as his eyes locked in on hers, one searing memory emerged from the recesses of his mind, cutting so hard he almost crumpled to the floor.
“Ya Allah, you goddamn witch,” he muttered as he watched her whisper and stare at him. “It was you! You were the hypnotist. Benson was here because he was trying to recruit you to work for the CIA! Now I remember you telling me that. You told me all of it . . . right before you made me forget it! He thought he could use you for interrogations, to plan operations, even to help with PTSD for his agents!”
Gaurina paused, her eyelids fluttering as if she was surprised that he remembered. Her hesitation was enough, and the Sheikh shook his head to clear it, and now he knew he was in control of himself again. She wasn’t getting into his head. Never again.
But perhaps she will believe she can get into my head again, he told himself. That is what my stepsister is doing right now with my father, is she not? These people have lived in exile for two decades, closed off from reality, living in a world of memories . . . memories of a time when they yielded absolute power over their worlds, their children, the two of us. Perhaps they still believe we are children, and perhaps that is our way through this.
And so the Sheikh swallowed hard and blinked, trying to look confused as he stared into his stepmother’s brown eyes. He took another step towards her, ignoring the fact that his body was reacting to hers in a way he didn’t want to be true. This would not be easy, but it was the only way. He needed to get her alone, away from the guards.
But then what, he wondered as he watched her begin to mutter something under her breath again, her alluring eyes regaining that calm confidence that had pulled him under her power once before. Then what?
28
I can kill him, but then what? Maddy thought as she heard the old Sheikh wheeze from the strain of dragging her into the large room and kicking the door shut. She could smell his sweat, and it reminded her of things she couldn’t forget. She was scared, but excited at the same time. In a way she’d fantasized about having this chance, hadn’t she? She’d never imagined it could happen, but now here she was, with a chance to exorcise her demons!
So why am I hesitating, she wondered as she watched him take deep breaths as he stood above her. Why am I on the floor, sitting on my ass when the man who twisted me into the person I am is right here for the taking? Is it just common sense, knowing that there are armed men outside the door? Or is it because I’m scared to exorcise those demons? Scared to purge those memories? Scared to let go of the darkness that made me who I am, forms the core of my being? Or am I just scared? Just straight up fucking scared, like a goddamn child?!
And now she’d done it, opened the door to fear. She could feel it creep in, the chill running through her as she sat frozen and watched the old Sheikh undo his tunic.
“You say you remember it all,” he whispered as he smiled down at her. “But I assure you, my sweet Madeline, it will be more than you remember. Much more. Come now, spread for me just like you used to. Spread for me like a good girl.”
“She was never a good girl,” came a woman’s voice, and Maddy frowned as she stared in the direction of the new presence. The woman was behind the old Sheikh, and Maddy couldn’t see her clearly. The voice was familiar, though, and Maddy felt that chill change form as she listened. “None of us were good girls, great Sheikh. But you knew that, did you not? You always knew that. You also know that it was a long time ago. We are not the people we were twenty years ago. Our time has passed, Sheikh. It is time to make way for the next generation, the next cycle. It is time.”
The Sheikh’s mouth opened wide, his eyes rolling up in his head in a way that made Maddy’s toes curl. She watched in shock as he gasped slowly, a sick, gurgling noise coming as blood poured from his gaping mouth. He staggered forward, going down on his knees before her, and it was only when he fell face-forward, his head landing right between Maddy’s spread legs, did she see the jeweled hilt of the dagger sticking out from between his shoulder blades.
“Oh, shit,” Maddy muttered, staring down as the old Sheikh took his last breath, his blood flowing around her spread legs just like her blood had flowed from his touch once. She looked up at the woman, and only when she looked into her eyes did she know who it was. “Khalifa,” she whispered as the shock rocked her body so hard she began to shiver. She’d seen blood before, drawn it herself. But this was different. This was . . . family. “Oh, shit, Khalifa.”
“Stay quiet,” the old queen said, glancing at the door and then back at her. “We are safe so long as this door stays closed. The guards will not dare disturb the Sheikh unless he calls for them.”
Maddy backed away from the old Sheikh’s body, her senses coming back as she evaluated the situation. She glanced at Khalifa, looking into the old queen’s eyes. It was her, no doubt. The first Sheikha. Imraan’s mother. The woman who’d watched from the shadows as her own husband had done what he did, while her sister-wife had held her own daughter down.
You can’t trust her, Maddy told herself, thinking of that dagger sticking out of the dead Sheikh’s back. The jeweled hilt matched the one she’d seen Imraan carrying, and that bothered her in a way she couldn’t understand. Still, right now she needed to decide how to handle Khalifa.
Time stood still for Maddy as she looked into the Sheikha’s eyes. They were sand-colored and focused, a strange energy radiating from them even though her face was wrinkled and worn. Those eyes had seen a lot, hadn’t they? And yet there was a light in them. Why?
“Why?” Maddy said, glancing at the dead Sheikh and then back up at her stepmother.
“The question shouldn’t be just why—it should be why now? Why not twenty years ago when it would have made a difference?” Khalifa shrugged, looking at her dead husband and then back at Maddy. “And I do not know the answer to that. Or perhaps I do not want to face the answer: that I was a coward. I was content to stand in the shadows and let all of this happen.”
Maddy tightened as she watched the Sheikha’s eyes. Something didn’t smell right here. She remembered Khalifa watching from those shadows . . . watching. The first Sheikha hadn’t been content to hide in her room like a coward. She’d stood there and watched, and that was as bad as Gaurina holding her down while the Sheikh took her innocence, her childhood, and her sanity all at once. Nope. This wasn’t going to be as easy as Maddy nodding her head and saying all was forgiven. You’re gonna die too, you scheming bitch. At least my mother accepted her insanity, embraced her crazy, understood that she was a monster. This woman wanted to believe she wasn�
��t as bad as the others. Fuck her. Fuck them all.
Maddy wanted to say all this, and she almost did. A part of her wanted to say fuck it, perhaps this was where it all ended. Who cared if she got gunned down by those men outside. But then she realized she wanted to live, and she wanted it more than anything. Imraan was facing his own demons in another room in this dark old house, and he was going to need her. He was going to need her today, tomorrow, and forever. She was going to live, and so she’d need to shut the hell up and play along.
“What now?” she said, nodding at Khalifa, knowing she’d have to match her wits against this old queen even though she could easily overpower her. “Can you talk to your men outside? Get them to leave?”
Khalifa shook her head. “They are not my men. They answer to the Sheikh, and him alone. But so long as we stay in here, they will not dare enter.”
Maddy looked around. There was a window at the far end of the room. “What about that? Does it lead outside?”
“It leads to an enclosed courtyard. But the courtyard will be empty, and perhaps you can enter through another window and get to the far side of the house. There will be no one there. You should be able to find your way out. If you want.”
Maddy cocked her head and frowned. “If I want?” she said slowly. “Why would I not want to get the hell out of here?”
“You came here for a reason, did you not?”
“I was kidnapped and brought here. Kidnapped three separate times, by the way.”
“Fate sometimes takes a twisted path to get you to your destiny.”
Maddy snorted. “Oh, please! You’re going to blame fate and destiny instead of taking responsibility for the choices all of you made?” She glanced at the dagger, its jeweled handle shining in the dim light, the hilt sticking straight out of the Sheikh’s back like Excalibur in the stone. “I should just—”
“Do it,” Khalifa whispered, the words coming so quick it startled Maddy. “Take it out of him. Slit my throat—Allah knows I deserve it! Then go fulfill your destiny. Fulfill all our destinies!”
Maddy blinked as she tried to figure out what game the old woman was playing. “What destiny? What the hell are you talking about, you crazy old—”
“Kill her!” Khalifa whispered, her eyes going wide and then narrowing again. “You have to do it before my son does it. Kill your mother before Imraan does it!”
“What?” Maddy said, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of what Khalifa was saying. “What . . . why . . .”
“He is going to kill her. Not for what she did to him, but for what she did to you. And if he does that, he will be broken beyond repair. The conflict will consume him, weaken him just like it did his father. It has to be you who does it. Then you can make Imraan into the man his father once was. Resolve his conflict by killing her yourself.”
“I don’t understand. What conflict?”
Khalifa took a breath, her eyes focusing on Maddy’s. “He was a boy when she seduced him. What effect do you think it had on him, when he was going through his own sexual awakening?”
Maddy went pale as her thoughts raced, her body shuddered, her vision blurred. A strapping teenage boy seduced by his alluring stepmother? Yes, he was a victim. Yes, he was manipulated. But the psychological experience was not the same as it was for her with the old Sheikh. While Maddy was held down, physically overwhelmed and overpowered, Imraan must have known that he was physically in control at all times. Yes, the mental hold she had on him had its own power, its own influence, but for Imraan there was at least the illusion of choice.
Oh, God, Maddy thought as she read Khalifa’s expression. Imraan believes he chose to have sex with his stepmother, even though she manipulated him into it, controlled his body with her touch and her words. And so perhaps . . . perhaps he believes he loved her? That he still loves her? Is that the conflict she’s talking about? Oh, God, is the “other woman” in my twisted love story my own fucking mother?!
And as if a door had burst open somewhere at the back of her psyche, Maddy felt a flood of emotions roll in like a tidal wave, the twin horses of doubt and jealousy leading the charge. She stared at Khalifa, wondering who was manipulating whom in that moment, who was telling the truth, who was lying, who was insane, and who wasn’t.
We’re all insane, came the thought as she pictured her stepbrother naked and glistening, pushing himself into her mother as she screamed in ecstasy. Yes, we’re all insane, all twisted, all damaged beyond repair. There’s no way out, is there? No way out.
Through the madness she saw a glint of silver steel, a flash of red ruby, a glimmer of green emerald. The knife, part of an old set. One belonged to Imraan, and the other, Maddy realized, belonged to her.
29
“I belong to you,” Gaurina whispered, touching his neck and standing so close he could feel her breasts against his chest. “I always have, Imraan. Do you remember?”
Imraan took a long breath as he felt his cock swell, his eyes glazing over with arousal. But it was a sickening arousal, not like what he’d felt with Maddy. He almost choked when he realized what he was thinking, that he was unconsciously comparing the mother with the daughter. What kind of twisted creature was he? Was he born this way, or did this woman standing up against him turn him into the monster he was?
It would be so easy to finish this, he thought as he watched her undo the top of her robe. He glanced at her neck, thin and delicate. He could end this so easily. He wouldn’t even need to use both hands. He was in control, he told himself. In total control.
Then why am I frozen, shivering like a scared child, aroused and repelled at the same time, hatred and desire moving through me together like two lovers dancing? Why do I want to kill her one moment, fuck her the next, just like I did with Maddy? Which one of us is the monster?
We are all monsters, came the response from somewhere inside him, and he felt his face twist into a smile as he reached out and grasped Gaurina by the back of her neck, pulling her close and leaning in until he could feel her breath against his lips. All of us. We were born that way, and either you can fight it or embrace it. You fucked this woman a hundred times as a teenager. You were always taller than her, heavier than her, stronger than her. You could have snapped her like a twig, ended it any time you wanted, yes? But instead you let her stroke you until you were hard like a rock, you pushed your face between her legs when she asked you to lick her, you slid your cock into her rear when she begged you to stretch her wide and take her deep.
And then, he told himself as he felt her fingers reach down between his legs and find his hardness, when she asked you if you loved her, what did you say? What did you say, Imraan? Do you remember?
“I don’t want to remember,” he muttered, pushing her hand away, grasping her by the throat as he felt a rage he’d never experienced rise up so fast he almost gagged even as he tried to hold back from choking the life out of Gaurina. “I cannot trust you, and I cannot trust my memories.”
“I agree,” Gaurina whispered, her face turning red as Imraan began to squeeze her throat. “Then trust what you’ve always trusted, Imraan. Your body. What does your body want? Answer me, Imraan. What does your body want?”
“To kill you,” the Sheikh answered, pressing harder on her throat even as he felt his cock stiffen along with his grip. Already he could feel her breathing getting labored, her body tensing up. A little more pressure and it would be done. He would be . . . free? Or would he be trapped forever, something in the back of his mind always whispering that he’d killed the woman he once . . . loved?
Suddenly the Sheikh let go of her throat, stepping away from Gaurina as she fell to the floor, taking huge gulps of air even as she stared up at him and smiled.
“You loved me,” she whispered as she massaged her throat. Slowly she rose to her knees and beckoned to the Sheikh with her head. “You said it so many times, Imraan. Say
it again. Say it again while I remind you what your body wants.”
Gaurina moved forward on her knees, licking her lips as the Sheikh felt his cock push against the fabric of his trousers. Images were passing through his mind so fast he was dizzy: memories of her breasts, her lips, her vagina—all of them so powerful, all of them burned in his psyche so deep he knew there was no escape.
So just give in, he thought as he felt her unzip him and bring her mouth close. Just give in. If you are a monster, then embrace it like everyone else in your family has done. Perhaps genetics is destiny, and if there is not a thread of goodness in your line, then do not fight the darkness because you are the darkness.
You, your stepsister, your stepmother, your father . . .
. . . and your mother.
30
“I am his mother,” Khalifa said as Maddy drew the knife from the old Sheikh’s back and wiped it off on the dead man’s tunic. “But I am also your mother in a way.”
“Stepmother,” Maddy said, her voice strong as she felt a soothing confidence flow through her as she gripped the knife. It felt good in her hand. Cold, sharp, and clear. Exactly what she needed right now.
Khalifa shook her head. “We did not distinguish at the time. We were all one family.”
Maddy snorted as she stood. “A family where everyone fucked everyone else. Forgive me if I don’t call you mommy.”
Khalifa glanced at the knife, a smile slowly emerging. “Do you not want to know about your family before we are all gone?”
“I know enough to know that I want you all gone as soon as fucking possible,” Maddy muttered, taking a step as she tightened her grip on the knife.
Ransomed for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 13) Page 11
