by Olivia Gates
Why was he trying to claim the throne of this land?
So it was up for grabs after the now former king of Azmahar, his maternal uncle, had abdicated after a public outcry and all his heirs had met with the same rejection. Just as his mother had almost destroyed Zohayd, her family had taken Azmahar to the edge of destruction, too. He’d thought he’d be lumped in with his maternal family as the last people Azmahar would want near the throne again. So he’d been shocked when those representing a third of the kingdom’s population had demanded he be their candidate. They’d insisted he wasn’t tainted by his family’s history and had the power and experience to save Azmahar. Even his Aal Munsoori blood was an asset, since people still considered the bloodline their rightful monarchs. But he had the potent advantage of mixing it with the Aal Shalaan blood, which would win them back their vital ally, Zohayd.
Still, why was he running for the throne? So he knew he was qualified for the position. But he also knew that he could swim among sharks, literally. He’d done it before. But that didn’t mean he should—and running for the position of king in such a chaotic land was worse than braving shark-infested waters. Not to mention the minefield of being pitted against his twin and his former-best-friend-turned-nemesis, Rashid.
He could find one real reason. Because if he didn’t do this, what else was there to do?
He’d exiled himself from Zohayd, had been performing from afar the royal duties his brothers hadn’t taken over in his absence. He’d installed such an efficient system to run his business empire, it took him only a few hours a day to orchestrate its almost self-perpetuating success. And he had no personal life. Apart from a few good-but-not-close friends, he had no one.
Sure, his family insisted he had them, and he supposed he did, in the big-picture sense, but on a daily basis? His family back in Zohayd he seldom saw. And he now had his twin back, but only in an emotional sense. As a newlywed and another candidate for the throne, Haidar had no real time for him.
No wonder he felt empty. As vacant as this desert, with as nonexistent a possibility for change.
An insistent noise broke the stillness of his surroundings. He frowned down at its origin. His cell phone.
It took him seconds to recognize the ring, one he’d assigned to a specific person. Fadi Aal Munsoori. A distant cousin, and the head of his security and his campaign for the throne.
Though Fadi came from the one branch of Jalal’s family on his mother’s side that he considered “family,” Fadi himself had never considered he had any relation to the former royal family of Azmahar. Fadi’s father had maintained marginal relations with them, but Fadi had renounced the relationship completely, not to mention publicly and viciously. The moment they’d been deposed, he’d pounced on the tribes he had influence over, had been the one who’d orchestrated their nomination of Jalal for king.
But even as the one he trusted with his life, his business, his campaign and even his secrets, Fadi had never accepted Jalal’s efforts to form a more personal relationship. Jalal insisted he was foremost a friend, but Fadi behaved like a knight of old with Jalal as his liege. He only ever called him when there was something urgent to convey or to discuss.
He almost wished Fadi would hit him with something huge to deal with, to get him out of this vacuum.
“Fadi, so good to hear from you.”
Not one to indulge in niceties, Fadi got to the point, his deep voice pouring its usual solemn gravity into Jalal’s ear.
“Considering you have not renewed my orders concerning this matter, or asked about any developments in the past two years, you may not be interested in what I have to tell you. But I decided to let you know in case you still are.”
Jalal’s gut tightened. This didn’t sound like something that concerned his business, his personal safety or his campaign. There was only one other thing Fadi had ever taken care of for him. One person he’d entrusted him with keeping tabs on. Lujayn.
It seemed he hadn’t groaned her name mentally but out loud, for Fadi said, “Yes, this is about Lujayn Morgan.”
The desert wind suddenly stirred, as if in response to the questions and temptations that stormed through him.
He’d been holding himself back with all he had so that he wouldn’t “renew Fadi’s orders” or “ask about any developments.” And he’d succeeded. At least he’d managed not to seek her out, or learn news of her, thereby renewing his exposure and losing any hard-won closure.
The sane thing to do now was to leave Fadi certain that his orders concerning her were at an end. That he was not to even report any information that came his way by accident.
At his prolonged silence, Fadi exhaled. “I apologize for presuming you would be interested.”
And he did the one insane thing. Heartbeat spiraling out of control, he growled, “B’haggej’jaheem, ya rejjal, just tell me.”
His bark silenced Fadi instead. Fadi, like everyone else, believed Jalal was the epitome of sangfroid. While this was mostly true, control and Lujayn had always been mutually exclusive.
He could almost hear Fadi’s miss-nothing mind clicking on the new conclusion before he finally said, “She is back in Azmahar.”
* * *
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out you were in Azmahar?”
Lujayn pulled away the cell phone to groan at hearing a voice she’d come back here hoping to avoid.
Aliyah’s.
She and Aliyah had once thought they were cousins, with both their fathers belonging to the Irish-American Morgan clan. But Aliyah’s mother, Princess Bahiyah Aal Shalaan, had turned out to be her flesh and blood aunt, with Aliyah actually the daughter of now-ex-King Atef Aal Shalaan of Zohayd from his American lover, and now new wife, Anna Beaumont.
It had been years since Aliyah had been declared an Aal Shalaan and become the wife of King Kamal Aal Masood and the queen of Judar. Quite a change from the minor royalty she’d been when Lujayn had known her.
But while their false family relationship had introduced them to each other, they had become true friends when Lujayn had followed Aliyah’s footsteps in modeling. Aliyah had offered her unfailing guidance and priceless support, steered her from many a mess and hooked her up with the few people it was safe to know in that turbulent world.
Aliyah had also been the reason she’d met Jalal, back when they’d thought she was a cousin to them both. Now that they knew Aliyah was his half sister, there was an even bigger chance she might pull Lujayn into Jalal’s orbit once more. That was why she’d been avoiding her. That and the fathomless joy Aliyah radiated ever since she’d gotten married.
“So what is an appropriate punishment for you, now that I’ve caught you in Azmahar unannounced?” Aliyah’s vibrant voice teased.
Lujayn wasn’t about to confess to the woman who’d shown her unforgettable kindness when she’d most needed it that she’d been avoiding her because she inadvertently made her feel bad about her life and because she didn’t want to risk seeing Jalal.
So she told her what she felt, free of pettiness and anxieties. “I missed you, too, Aliyah.”
Aliyah let out a laugh as clear and tinkling as crystal. “And here she is. The woman who knows just how to thwart me and still leave me with a smile on my face. You’re more slippery than an eel, you know that? I hear it’s an Azmaharian trait.”
A smile pried Lujayn’s stiff lips apart. It had been an endless source of fun among them to compare notes on their “hybrid” nature. “Since I’m only half-Azmaharian, the trait must be diluted, so I can’t be that slippery.”
Aliyah hooted. “My dear, you’re talking to a bona fide halfling. Being half-and-half only augments any traits we inherit from each side. Just ask Kamal.”
And there it was. The woman was unable to form five consecutive sentences without leading back to her husband and love of her life.
She knew she was being pathetic, but it wasn’t just hearing the wealth of love in Aliyah’s voice. She’d seen them together, alone and wit
h their two children. Seeing and feeling that lion of a man’s fierce love and devotion to Aliyah had been amazing, but it was also evidence that such passion existed—and that she would never have anything like it.
“So how long are you in Azmahar?” Aliyah interrupted her darkening thoughts. “Last time you were here was more than four years ago and you stayed less than four days.”
“I don’t know, Aliyah. It depends on my aunt’s health.”
“Suffeyah?” All levity left Aliyah’s voice, alarm replacing it. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s been diagnosed with breast cancer.”
“Oh, Lujayn, I’m so sorry. Bring her over to Judar. We have one of the best medical systems in the world, thanks to Kamal. I’ll see to it that she has the best health care the kingdom can offer.”
“I can’t thank you enough for the offer, Aliyah, but I have to decline it. I tried to make her come to the States, but she refuses to leave her daughters behind for the months the treatments might take. One is a senior in high school and the other just had twins.”
“I understand all too well putting your kids before yourself. But Azmahar isn’t in good shape and I understand one of the sectors suffering most is health care.”
Lujayn’s heart constricted at Aliyah’s words. “I know. But Aunt insists she’ll take her chances with the medical care here like any other Azmaharian would. All I could do was arrange for a consult with some of the best doctors in the States. I’m flying them over in a couple days. We’ll take it from there.”
“That’s great. And if what they recommend can’t be carried out in Azmahar, I’ll provide you with medicine, equipment and personnel. If she won’t come to us, we’ll bring the best of Judar to her.”
“Oh, Aliyah, that is beyond anything I could have hoped for.”
“But you didn’t hope for anything, did you? You have this infuriating thing against a helping hand from a friend.”
Lujayn exhaled. Aliyah was right. Being the daughter of a servant in the palace Aliyah had grown up in had been enough. She hadn’t wanted to tip the balance of their situations more by accepting favors she’d be unable to repay. She’d only accepted Aliyah’s help when Aliyah had insisted it was the fruit of her experience, nothing to do with her royal status.
Even now she had nothing of equal value to ever offer Aliyah. That made it impossible for her to be the recipient of favors that had everything to do with Aliyah’s status.
“I can hear your mind churning, Lu,” Aliyah said. “But since it’s not you on the receiving end this time, it should ameliorate your allergic reaction. Now promise you won’t say no, and you’ll let me do what I can when needed.”
She chuckled even as tears rushed to her eyes. “I forgot how well you know me, Aliyah. And about this pesky total recall of yours. And just how incredible you are.” She sighed, swallowing the lump of emotion. “Thank you, and I promise.”
“Good girl!” She could just see Aliyah’s unbridled smile. “Now when will I see you?”
Ugh. Now she had to make another promise.
But why not? She knew it would be beyond either of them to keep this one. She doubted the queen of Judar would find it feasible to continue a friendship with someone of her background.
She exhaled. “As soon as we know more about the plans for Aunt, I’ll call you to set up a girls’ day out.”
Aliyah whooped. “And I’m holding you to that.”
After more chatting, Lujayn started to regain the fluency they’d once shared, until Aliyah had to rush to extract her daughter from a literally sticky mess and laughingly bade her adieu.
Lujayn collapsed on the nearest seat. If she was already coming apart, what would the next weeks or months here be like?
It was just her terrible luck to come back to Azmahar now, with Jalal on Azmaharian soil for the first time in years. She hated being in the same airspace as him. And Aliyah’s call had made her feel as if his shadow was closer and darker than ever.
Which was moronic. Not only had he said he’d delete her from his memory, he had a throne to think of. Even if he hadn’t, she’d be the last thing to cross his mind. She’d been the last thing he’d thought about or considered when she’d been his sex partner. She’d been one of many, after all.
He’d arranged their rendezvouses when it had been convenient for him, sometimes weeks apart, and no way had he suppressed his overriding libido that long. She’d spent the times apart alternating between a hell of doubt, and telling herself it was only her insecurities talking. But she’d seen and heard too much proof that instead of “storing his hunger to be expended on her luscious self” as he’d once claimed, he’d had a different body in his bed every night.
To her shame, that hadn’t been what had finally made her walk away.
After all, he’d promised her nothing to justify her feeling bad, let alone betrayed.
Cursing herself for regurgitating those sordid memories, her eyes darted around the hotel suite. She’d reserved it for the coming weeks as it was within walking distance of the hospital so she’d be constantly available for her aunt.
She’d just come back from starting arrangements at the hospital. Just thinking of what lay ahead filled her with dread. No wonder Aliyah’s call had shaken her. She was already in turmoil. And it had nothing to do with any other Aal Shalaan.
She rose and headed to the kitchenette to make a cup of herbal tea. She needed to be calm for the drive back to her aunt’s at the outskirts of Durrat al Sahel. Traffic in the capital had gotten far worse than she remembered.
With the first sip from her hibiscus brew, a loud, melodious noise shattered the suite’s silence. She gulped the hot liquid, scalded her tongue and choked.
She was coughing her lungs out when the noise went off again. A doorbell. She hadn’t even realized the suite had one!
It must be housekeeping. And she hadn’t thought of hanging a Do Not Disturb sign—she’d planned to stay only an hour.
She stalked to the door, flung it open, intending to let them in and herself out…and froze. Her heart did, too.
Filling the door, dwarfing her and causing the world to shrink, stood Jalal. The reason behind every tumult in her life since she’d laid eyes on him.
But he wasn’t only that man. He was…more.
She’d once thought nothing could surpass him in beauty and magnificence. And nothing had. And during their affair, he’d proved only he could best his own standards. That six-foot-six broad-shouldered, divinely proportioned body she’d thought the epitome of manhood had kept maturing to godlike levels, as she’d had hands-on proof. Every day they’d had together had hewn his face further with the chisel of maturity and virility, manifesting his intelligence and sensuality and dominance in its every slash and angle and expression.
But something had happened to him since she’d last seen him two years ago. As if the darkness and danger she’d long suspected he’d hidden beneath the facade of graciousness and gorgeousness had manifested in his looks, emanated from his every nuance. It turned his beauty, his impact, from breathtaking to heartbreaking.
He was staring down at her as if he, too, was shocked to see her. When he was the one who’d almost given her a heart attack just by showing up.
After what felt like an hour of suspended thought and escalating distress, his whiskey-colored eyes narrowed, singeing her. Then his voice poured over her, feeling like a dip in lava.
“I said I’d delete you from my memory, but it appears there is no forgetting you without erasing it altogether. So I’ve decided to stop trying, to go all the way in the opposite direction. I now think my only cure is to revive every memory, to reenact every single intimacy we ever shared.”
Three
Lujayn stood paralyzed as Jalal pushed past her. The door clicked closed, sounded like a gun going off at close range.
She still couldn’t move. Speak. Breathe. Reactions deluged her as she watched him walk farther into the suite, memories and sensa
tions and compulsions tangling, trapping her volition in their maze. It had always taken him just a look to neutralize her will, her sense of self-preservation.
And that he still retained the same influence over her, after all she’d suffered and lost and continued to struggle with because of him, made her spitting, foaming mad.
The moment he turned to face her, his eyes sweeping her in tranquil appreciation and intent, she seethed, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out.”
“I will. At some point.” His shoulders moved in a languid shrug. “But since it won’t be now, how about saving your obligatory apoplectic tirade and getting on with discussing the particulars of my proposition?”
“How about I revive our first memory? Reenact the first ‘intimacy’ I shared with you?”
His wolf’s eyes flared with remembrance as he walked back to her. “When I first saw you hiding behind Aliyah and watching me like a wary, hungry kitten? Or is it when I walked up to you and took your hand in mine—” his hands clenched and unclenched, as if reliving the sensations “—and it shook from the power of your response, with the promise of what it would later do to me?”
A ragged scoff escaped her. “Way to go rewriting history. I was at a loss at how to react to a stranger’s forwardness.”
“I was never a stranger to you. You’ve known who I was probably since you were old enough to know anyone.”
“I knew of you. And what I knew accounted for the wary part of my reaction.”
“What about the hungry part?” His eyes turned goading. “And I never asked—didn’t Aliyah sing my praises? How…un-cousinly of her at the time, if she didn’t.”
“If she’d sung anything about you, I bet it wouldn’t have been praises. And since you went to great lengths to divert her from your intentions concerning me, she never did the cousinly thing for me, and warn me to keep you at world’s length.”
“I diverted her in the interest of preserving the eyes you said you adored.”
And those eyes, damn him, were as magnificent as ever, emitting the golden lust that put common sense on the fritz whenever he trained them on her.
