Cross the Stars (Crossing Stars #1)

by Venessa Kimball

  “Well, don’t sneak up on me and you won’t hear me say things like that,” I say, smiling demurely.

  The grin he provides is not lacking the dimple this time and I’m proud of bringing it out in him. “For some reason, I doubt that would stop you from using profanity.”

  As he continues toward me, I lean against the chair in front of me. “You’re probably right.”

  He looks at the ground as he speaks carefully. “So, there is this place, Wadi Rum.”

  I’d read about it before arriving here. “The Valley of the Moon. I have wanted to go there but I’m not sure we will have a chance. There and Petra were on my bucket list.”

  He squints, seeming confused. “Bucket list?”

  “Oh, like a list of things I really want to do.”

  He nods, stopping in front of me. “Well, we are doing both this weekend.”

  I’m taken aback with him telling me “we” are doing something together. “What?”

  With an air about him, he asks, “Did you not hear me the first time?” His smile is playful. “I can repeat it if you like.”

  I try to clarify without sounding too obvious, just in case I am completely off, “You and me?”

  He leans toward me a little, like he is telling me a secret. “And the volunteers.”

  “Oh, yeah, right.” The letdown of him and me going alone is a fantasy I should know will never come true here on this side of the world.

  Like he has read my mind, he speaks tenderly, his voice seducing me slowly, “If having you with me in Wadi Rum for the weekend means renting out the entire campsite and accommodating for every volunteer with WorldTeach to experience this, then so be it.”

  I’m blown away by the lengths he has gone to coordinate a loophole for us to spend time together. I should be enamored now that I know he and I want the same thing, but instead I think of the place we stand in, the people I serve, and how, while I am out touring Petra, sleeping under the desert for fun, a getaway, they will still be here with no break or getaway in their future.

  “What is it?” Raj’s concern is alerting. “Do you not want to go?”

  “No, that isn’t it at all.”

  “What is it then?” he asks, concerned now.

  “I just feel like I am leaving all of this behind, turning my back on the reason I am here.”

  He tilts his head, then raises his chin. “You feel like you are leaving them. Your girls.”

  “Not just that. The Ba’ashirs, the Ahmadis, they have been so good to me. Living with them has shown me a world I had not known before. One with the simplicity of just being with each other is richer than I could have imagined in my own home. And to know they may never experience the Roman Amphitheater, the Lost City of Petra, or Wadi Rum, it makes me feel like I am abandoning what they have taught me.”

  He stares at me, seeming to analyze what I have said, and I feel self-conscious. “I know it’s silly to feel so heart-felt about this, but...”

  Before I can finish, he speaks over me, “You are passionate. That is not silly in the least. We don’t have enough of that passion in the world, Ella. I understand.” His smile is tender as he continues to look down at me. “And now I feel like the selfish one.”

  “Why is that?”

  His eyes drift to my lips. “Because even though I respect your feelings, I want to take you away from here, show you the place that sets me free, the way you do.”

  I’m without words, without breath, without the ability to swallow.

  He moves a step closer, not yet breaking the hold his golden eyes have me in. “Please say you will go.”

  I nod slowly before the words glide easily from my lips. “I will go.”

  His body seems to relax with my answer as he looks down at his hands, running them over each other fervently. Was he afraid I might say no?

  He backs away a step, seeming to give me room to breathe, but I don’t need it. I need him close again. “The Ba’ashirs, the family you live with, do you walk there from here?”

  Reminding me I need to get going, I grab my bag and place my veil over my hair, tucking it as I talk. “Yes, it isn’t far.”

  “I will take you.” His words are commanding, and while I am finding I adore everything about this man, the demanding tone doesn’t settle well.

  “Um, no I can get there on my own.”

  I start around him, but he backs up and places his hand on my arm. His touch isn’t harsh, rather gentle; the force of the contact, skin to skin, sends shivers through me. “I don’t feel comfortable letting you walk alone. I will take you.”

  His knee-weakening touch, his thumb running along my forearm, sends my mind spinning. Even though letting myself go under his touch feels so good, I hold my position, my sarcastic ass taking over. “You know, I have functioned on my own without an escort for the last, oh I don’t know, almost two months. It’s light out. I can handle walking home on my own.”

  His jaw tenses. “I don’t like this at all.”

  I smirk, seeing he doesn’t like not getting what he wants. “I can tell, but I promise I will be fine.”

  I start toward the door again, and he moves ahead of me, opening it for me to pass. I turn off the lights and walk passed him. “Thank you.”

  “You have a phone?” He sounds on edge.

  “Yes, for emergencies,” I say, considering he may be moving to ask me to call him.

  “Good.”

  As we get to the front entrance by the courtyard, I stop and turn to him, wondering where he is going. “Don’t you exit through the back alley?”

  He holds the door open for me, realizing I have found him out, him coming to the front was just for me. “Yes, right. Once I see you have gotten off okay. The soldier could see you home if you don’t want me to.”

  I nod, as he tries to reason into having me escorted home. “Really, I’m fine. I will see you tomorrow.”

  On my way home, I glance off to the side of me every few blocks, feeling someone watching me. As I cross the street I see the iconic royal SUV that drove me home the night after the attack, one of the royal trucks. I pretend I don’t see it as I pull my veil farther down, hiding my roused smirk. He couldn’t bring himself to let me walk home alone. While part of me doesn’t understand his demand, his innate cultural obligation to be vigilant over me for me, the rest of me thrives on knowing he can’t stand my not being watched by him.

  With the Ba’ashirs house only a few yards away, I slow my pace, coming to a stop. I don’t move, knowing if Raj has followed me this far and I stand still, he will be overwhelmingly curious why I am standing here, not moving on. The truck rolls up next to me, the rear window coming even with me. I turn to the window and gaze up at it, then lower my eyes, waiting for him, daring him to roll down the window.

  I’m surprised when the dark-tinted window lowers halfway, his full lips smirking at me.

  I keep my eyes down as I speak. “As you can see, I am safe.”

  “Yes, I can.” I glance up just as he says, “Goodnight, Ella.”

  He closes his window and drives off.

  Saturday morning couldn’t come fast enough and sleep the night before was a struggle. I intended to dream of riding camels across Wadi Rum, walking among the ruins of a lost city, eating food, living for just two days the bedouin way; nomadic, free, just as Raj had hoped for us. Instead, I dreamt of him and I intertwined, pushing, pulling, tugging, thrusting, sucking, rising and falling together in fervid, flesh-driven fantasies fulfilled in the mirage of orgasmic solitude. I woke flushed and pulsating from the sensual figment, wanting it desperately to not end. I tried to go back to sleep, prolong the sensation, relive it even if it would only exist in my head.

  Hoda and Ameena woke with me, seeing me off with a full stomach of Manakeesh. Ismad said he would walk me the night before, but I asked him to please sleep in, explaining I know how hard he works and I respect him for it. My lengthy explanation seemed get through to his insistence, which surprised me and mad
e me feel good, saving me from feeling guilty about him waking on his day off to take me to a weekend of touring. I couldn’t bear it and I’m glad he understood. The number of cars passing is near to none this early on a Saturday morning, so hearing the sound of an engine slowly approaching me is transparent.

  “Good morning, Ella.”

  The sound of Raj’s deep voice with the curl of his accented English isn’t just a welcomed surprise but a reminder of the sordid sleep I had with the ghost of him.

  I stop walking as the car matches my pause. “Are you stalking me?”

  He scoffs, then clears his throat. “Stalking, no. Just making sure you are safe by following you.”

  I nod slowly, looking ahead. “So, safety stalking.”

  Wanting to see his reaction, I cannot keep from peering over at him. He has lowered his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose to observe me, but keeping code he puts the glasses back in place and looks ahead, avoiding my quick glance. His smile gives away his sentiment. “Yes, safety stalking.”

  I stare down the street ahead of us. “It is about two more miles of this, or you can just trust I can take care of myself.”

  His smile fades a little. “I know you can take care of yourself, Ella, and yes it might look suspicious if we drive up slowly to the center keeping pace with you. Mr. Stern might have greater suspicion than if we were to tell him I saw you walking and offered you a ride.”

  Keeping his glasses on, he looks over at me. “Sitting in the front seat with my driver, of course. It wouldn’t be right for you to sit alone with me.” His grin slowly creeps back in, sending my mind back to the carnal crevices it lived in as I slept last night.

  I wonder what he dreamt about last night?

  We pull up to the front of the center, a large tour bus parked at the front gate waiting to load. Our SUV pulls behind another black-on-black SUV behind the bus. Five body guards in suits and darkened sunglasses get out of the SUV in front of us, as does our driver.

  I get out, wondering what the volunteers, Ana, and Tom will think seeing me get out of the front seat of the prince’s convoy. Ana is staring at me open-mouthed as I wait for the driver to hand me my bag out of the back of the truck. Raj comes to stand by my side, making me feel even more self-conscious as he waits for his own bag.

  As the driver hands me mine, Raj speaks to me. “Ella, if you are this tense all weekend, they might think we are having more than pleasant conversation. Please, relax.”

  I nod slowly and put my bag on my shoulder, Raj taking his and walking around me toward Tom. Yeah, okay, I can do that. I think.

  As I walk behind him, my eyes gravitate to the way his faded jeans hug his ass perfectly. Shit, this is going to be really difficult. I scan away from his ass as we walk up to Tom and the volunteers. Tom looks from me to Raj, then back to me again. “Everything okay?”

  I try to brush off his investigative tone, casually saying, “Yeah, everything’s good.”

  Raj quickly takes up after me, “My driver saw Ella walking and we offered her a ride the rest of the way.” He glances at the group behind Tom. “Who’s ready to get away to Wadi Rum?”

  His powerful rally is meant to excite and it provokes an equally compelling response as the volunteers’ voice their clashing support.

  Raj explains the weekend will consist of first a stop at the Lost City of Petra this morning into the late afternoon, then a drive south past Wadi Rum to the Captain’s Desert Camp where we will be staying, living in the bedouin manner, under the moon in the desert. Sunday we would travel camel back into the Wadi Rum desert from the south traveling north, then returning to a lunch before departing for Jordan.

  The way he describes the trip, I can tell he organized it all himself. “Before we leave, I want to thank Tom for allowing me to take you away with me for a few days. For me it is an honor to show you a part of my country that is close to my heart.” He turns to Tom and holds his hands together, bowing slightly to him. “Thank you, Mr. Stern.”

  Tom imitates his sign of respect, slightly bowing.

  Ana slips in line behind me as we get on the bus, Tom and Raj lingering behind discussing the itinerary. “Um, so you get rides from the Prince of Jordan now?”

  Her comment is intended in the non-literal sense as she slips in a wink. I roll my eyes and shake my head. If only it were true. “Like he said, his driver saw me. It was the right thing to do.”

  As I step onto the bus, she slyly responds, following closely behind whispering, “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, but I’m not buying it.”

  The bus is big and I take up one double seat, tossing my bag down on the seat next to me. Ana sits behind me and leans over the seat, spying to see if anyone is listening. “Look, I think it is cool as shit to have a prince all over your ass, but if I notice it, I’m sure as hell Tom notices and every other nosy fucker on this bus.”

  She was right, while everyone said they watched out for each other, and they did, they also liked to nose around. “He is a prince, royalty, Muslim, code, remember. You are none of those things.”

  As everyone files in, I watch them, making sure her comments aren’t overheard with the slightest expressions from them. “Yeah, okay, I got it.”

  She puts her hand on my shoulder, making me focus on her. “You got it?” Her question is meant to confirm in the truest form. “I don’t need my girl getting in over her head.”

  I nod, keeping my eyes solid on her. “Yeah, I’m good. I won’t.”

  Ana looks away and I follow her gaze. Tom is followed by Raj. and when Tom sits on the second bench back, Raj keeps coming toward me, sitting directly across from me, placing his bag on the seat next to him and putting ear buds into his ears.

  I face him in all of his boldness, making no attempt at hiding his heavy stare as he leans his head against the window behind him. As Ana slowly lowers herself back into her own seat, I hear her mumble, “Yeah, you got this, all right.”

  His heavy gaze not leaving me any time soon, I turn my body to face the front of the bus, tilting my head to peer out the window, imagining what parts of me he is staring at now.

  The drive to Petra is expected to take three hours and the trip there is all highway, which makes for the perfect backdrop for nodding off. With the welcomed restless sleep last night, I willingly let it consume me on the way there. I’m not too sure how long I’m under when I stir awake, opening my eyes to find Raj leaning his head against the seat across from me, gazing at me. He isn’t smiling, his jaw set, his eyes deeply engrossed in what he is thinking about.

  What is he thinking about? I could guess, but it would just be self-inflicted torture.

  Seemingly pulled from his meditation of me having been caught in the act of staring at me sleep, he chastely looks down at his phone. I sit up and hastily tuck my hair behind my ears, masking my hands checking the sides of my mouth for possible trails of sleep drool; it has happened before. I’m clear though and I sit back and stare at the seat in front of me until I can’t resist looking back over at him.

  He is still focusing on his phone, but I notice him glimpse up at me as his grin widens and the infamous thought-provoking dimple surfaces on his right cheek. He licks his lips in the most sensual fucking way and rests his head back against the window behind him. Before I give away the slightest flush of my cheeks from what he does to me, what the lick of his lips is making me think, I shift toward my window, imploring for the gods of wanton lust to deliver me from evil. Amen.

  Once the bus parks, I push my backpack under the seat in front of me. As everyone stands to stretch, I make sure to take my veil from my seat as I rise to exit my seat. Raj steps toward me, letting me pass in front of him as he moves in behind me. He is standing so close and I’m not expecting it when he reaches for my hand, taking the veil in his. He slowly tugs on it, drawing it through my fingers as he whispers, his voice low and rough in a really amazing way, “Don’t wear it today. I want to see you, Ella, bold and free. Be free with me.”


  I don’t realize I’m leaning into him until my back meets his chest, quickly sending me forward a step. I let the veil slip through my fingers completely with his pull as he lays it on the seat I had occupied. My release is my accepting his invitation to collide and fall with him.

  Raj got each of us a pony to take each of us on the tour. Tom was given passage on a cart. Some of the volunteers hissed playfully as Tom waved back at us and rode ahead. As Raj rode up on a pony behind me, coming to my side, it became evident as to why he had sent Tom on his way ahead of us.

  I playfully asked, “Hey, why does he get a cart?”

  Raj leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “Would it be wrong to say to get him out of the way so I can be by you?”

  His gaze wouldn’t release me until I responded. I glanced down at the guard by his side, watchful of the few tourists who have started the trek in with us. “No, but what about everyone else watching you?” Even though we were in public surrounded by our group, and the number of tourists here was surprisingly light, I worried. He shrugged and looked around us curiously, seeming to notice the sparsity of onlookers.

  “The handful of people around us are tourists, not likely to know me, and for the few that do recognize me, they aren’t watching me watch you. They are just watching me.”

  He grinned mischievously with arrogance, then looked on at the land around us. “Tourism and travel to Petra has not been what it used to because of the unrest here in the Arab states.” He sounds frustrated by the climate all of a sudden and I want to push it out of his mind, bring back his smile, the joy he expressed when he spoke of Petra.

  “Well, I can’t wait to see all of its beauty.”

  My enthusiasm lit him up again, as I had hoped.

  Raj hired multiple tour guides to take us on the journey through the Sig, the passage leading to the Khazneh, the Treasurym, which is the most photographed and most well-known site in Petra. The tour guides gave us the history and myth of Petra as they guided our group of ponies to the Roman theater, walking among the empty tomb cut-outs bordering the thousands of seats in the arena. The bodyguards kept some distance giving us room to explore, but were always within seconds of Raj. We rose up the carved steps on horseback and descended on foot, traveled to the Urn temple, one of the sites we could discover from within. As I stepped, I imagined the kings, pharaohs, travelers, tomb raiders, and bedouin tribes walking on the softened sand beneath my feet. I’m sure my mouth gaped as I looked up at the ceiling of the temple, unable to imagine human hands carving out the hardened sand to form this structure ... all of these passages, tombs, and dwellings lining the valley we walked.