by Olivia Gates
Then mortification rose in a black tide.
Had she suspected it when she’d left him? Was that why she had? She’d sacrificed herself for what she believed was the best for him, intending to go through pregnancy, childbirth and his child’s upbringing without his love and support?
No more. Never again. He’d be her support and succor for every moment from now on. The next baby, he’d be there from the first moment, for every second after that till his last breath.
He hadn’t felt himself move, but he was all around her, cascading passion and protection and tears of gratitude and pride over her down to where his child was growing healthy and strong inside her.
But she was pushing him away, frantic, feeble fingers trying to terminate his homage, her sobs drowning his ragged rasps. “Don’t, Malek. I’m—I’m four months pregnant …”
It didn’t make sense at first. Then the words mushroomed in his mind like a nuclear detonation. Four months.
Four.
His hands convulsed in her flesh, an instinctive spasm, warding off the horror, the devastation, the fatal blow.
He raised his eyes to hers, begging for a renunciation, a stay of execution of all his hopes and dreams, his faith, but found nothing but tears. Of guilt? Of pity?
A white-hot vice crushed his chest.
He willed it to complete the job, still its beating.
It didn’t. Why? So he’d live with it?
He couldn’t! He couldn’t live at all.
Janaan’s child wasn’t his.
She’d forgotten him in days—days. Had craved another, had opened her body to his invasion, taken his seed, wanting it to bear fruit not his.
He heard something crackling, congealing with agony and madness, a butchered maniac ranting his last breaths away.
“All for nothing. All the certainty, the invincibility in her—for worse than nothing. For an illusion. Not mine—not mine …”
Jay reeled as Malek fragmented before her eyes.
But this isn’t what I meant to do, she wanted to scream.
She’d die to never see him in pain.
She flew after him, threw herself at his feet. He staggered, looked down at her with the eyes of a man in the process of losing his coherence. And she begged.
“Forgive me, Malek, please, please—forgive me. I lied, lied—only to set you free. I thought you’d just despise me, walk away, be free of me. I swear I never dreamed it would hurt you this much. My baby is yours, Malek, as I am, as I will always be. I just want you strong and in peace—please, Malek, please …”
The look in his eyes changed to the wild one of someone way past his limit, the tears she’d never thought to see pouring from them, and she panicked, her words colliding with each other in her fright.
“You said I had to have a family, and now I do, Malek—I do! Your child will be all the family I need. You shouldn’t worry about me, about us. I’m a good provider and I’ll be a good mother. I am nothing like my mother—please, please, never worry on that account. And if you want and find it possible to participate in your child’s life in any way, you can. You can do anything you want or see fit to. Anything at all.”
Malek looked down at Janaan, his salvation and destruction, demolished twice over. With the devastation of her sacrifice, after the devastation of her attempt to drive him away.
He fell to his knees before her, shaken to his foundations that she was all he’d believed and more, that he’d never be able to love her hard or long enough, never have enough, never.
“Hada kateer—kateer. This is too much …” he reiterated as it all merged into a dream sequence, after the harrowing plunge into the nightmare of annihilation, and she was cleaved to him, her tears mingling with his, her passion a chain reaction with his, melting their barriers, their flesh together.
Then he went home, plunged inside her, drove in a ferocious rhythm, weeping at the poignancy of union, of reunion, of souls and bodies sundered and now remade into one.
At the peak he drew away to watch her, his Janaan, his heart and mind and soul in name and reality, taking her fill of him, at the mercy of the pleasure he inundated her with, magnanimous with her captivation of him, with her surrender.
Only when she started tumbling down the vortex of pleasure, crying out her love, convulsing around him, wrenching his release from his every cell, he joined her, spilled his seed, branded her as his forever, only sorry that he couldn’t give her another child right now.
Then there was peace. For the first true time in his life.
Their union had started with their first eye melding, but this was the beginning of an inseparable life together.
He lay curved around her, his lips traveling over her neck and shoulders, her hand luxuriating in the evidence of his love growing inside her, pride blazing through him, spilling on words of worship, pledges of forever.
Her quivering finally stopped, her caresses, too. He growled with deprivation, took her hands back to his body, urged them to resume their ownership. She resisted him. A black spot began to grow in the perfection again. He drew himself up on one elbow.
“Malek—this was a lapse …”
His heart contracted at her choking statement.
He no longer understood anything. There was no logic to grasp at here. He gathered her tighter to his body. “The most powerful intimacy we’ve ever shared, a lapse?”
She was panting, peach-flushed, her eyes turquoise in the bedside light, slumberous with the drug of pleasure, bleak with the admission of defeat. “Yes—one I’ll keep making if you don’t leave me alone. I know what you came to offer me, and I can’t accept. So, please, leave me alone, Malek, please …”
The black spot was expanding, about to consume his world again. “You’re having my child, you say you’re mine forever, you just made soul-shattering love with me, but you won’t marry me? Is this what you’re saying? What is this? Pregnancy hormones?”
She turned her face into the pillow, bit her lip to stop its trembling. “I’m trying not to intrude in your life, take you from your duties and your wife. I can’t be the other woman in your life. It will destroy me as it destroyed my mother.” She turned a tear-drenched face of overpowering beauty and poignancy to him. “If you stay away long enough, we may be able to grow a thick scab over the wound to live with it, but if you keep reopening the wound, letting the hunger bleed out, it will keep eating at us until nothing is left. I want to have your baby, Malek, I want to be whole and strong and nurturing. Please, my love, help me retain my sanity, don’t keep reminding me how much I’m losing, how much I can’t have.”
Malek reeled, everything inside his head in chaos. “What are you talking about? What duties? What wife? You said—at least implied—that you’d seen the ceremony! The ceremony where I abdicated and handed the crown to my cousin!”
∗ ∗ ∗
Jay was convinced now. This was all a psychotic breakdown.
She couldn’t have heard Malek correctly.
“Abdicated?” She heard the explosive word, realized it had just erupted from her lips. “I thought you meant a marriage ceremony and … Abdicated! God—how? Why? How could you?”
The distressed bewilderment in his eyes slowly gave way to amusement. Then suddenly he threw his head back and laughed. Peal after peal of cruelly masculine merriment that was all him.
Her inarticulate cry of chagrin and impatience brought a reluctant end to his fit.
He still chuckled as he trailed a hand heavy with possession over her ripeness. “Ahen ya habibat galbi. If you only saw what I see now, you’d excuse me if I made love to you again now and explained later.” At her warning growl he took his hand off her, held it up. “All right. As for how, not at all easily, and that was what kept me the past six months from tearing the world apart with my own hands to find you. I had to make everyone agree to my decision, to agree on who best to replace me. They were so desperate for me to remain on the throne they even agreed to let me take you as my wi
fe.”
Would she have any reason left when he was through with her?
“They agreed that you can marry me and remain king?” she paraphrased slowly, as if to make sure she hadn’t imagined hearing it. Then she shouted, “So why did you abdicate?”
He smiled in indulgence at her distraught reaction. “Simply because I would have married you, then barely seen you, as duties deluged me in a totally different sphere from the one you move in as a doctor. They tried to convince me I could still be a doctor, work with you, but I realistically know I can’t be both a hands-on doctor and a king, and I had to choose. Not only you as my life-mate, but the kind of life we’ll lead together.
“I chose the only life where we’ll be happy, together and fulfilled. What I have to offer the world of medicine and healthcare is something no one else can. My cousin is a better statesman than I am. It was decreed that he won’t make pivotal decisions without my approval, that I’ll still have massive sway in the kingdom. And I plan to use that power, with you, to be the driving force behind advancement and moderation.
“We’ll be together, living each day to the full in each other’s nearness and nurturing, doing what we do best, being healers. Though we may have to take it a bit easier when each of our children is too young. I hope to have one more.”
And she wept. Felt like she’d dissolve.
What he was saying, what he’d done was so huge it left her shocked, mute, awed, humbled, elated. Oppressed.
She launched herself at him, sobbed the excess of emotions into his chest. “How did I ever deserve all that? How can I ever deserve that?”
“Without the least effort,” he insisted, all pride and indulgence. “Just being yourself, the woman who enslaved me with your selflessness and courage and generosity from the first moment. The woman who owns me by right of saving my life, by right of giving me my first real taste of what life means. My life started for real after we met. I only ever knew every heart-rending emotion with you and on your account. And you are the only one who shares my vision, my drive, my soul. Together we’ll be an unstoppable force for good.” He hugged her fiercely. “It’s a relief you’re giving me a child, ya rohi. I hope a daughter, who can act as a safety valve for the dangerous accumulation of love I have for you.” He pinched her cheek softly. “I wouldn’t want to exhaust you.”
Stumbling deeper in stunned, humble ecstasy, drowning, soaring with so many things that she’d need her lifetime to fully register and savor them, Jay hugged him, took his lips.
“Our child will have to be satisfied with a separate reservoir of love,” she said, her voice ragged, drenched in tears and smiles. “My love for you is all yours. As for exhausting me, no way. In fact, I’m so well rested it constitutes an emergency. You should do something about it.”
And he did. How he did.
After one more rocketing journey to their private place in heaven, melted with pleasure and security in his arms, she mumbled, “I’ll have to disappoint you on one account. Your firstborn will regretfully be the wrong gender. And that sounds so weird now I said it out loud. I thought you desert knights valued male firstborns above all things.”
He winced. “Not this desert knight. I was really hoping our first foray into parenthood wouldn’t involve one of those unmanageable male Aal Hamdaans. The females, like my aunts, are simply exquisite.” He suddenly hugged her exuberantly. “You’d better start practicing how to give birth to Damhoor’s future king.”
She gaped at him. “Wha—?”
“Aih, they let me abdicate only with the promise that my firstborn son would be king, that my cousin would act as regent until he came of age. They want the line of Munsoor Aal Hamdaan to be reinstated on the throne as soon as possible.”
And she spluttered, unable to deal with yet another dizzying, devastating development. He brought an end to her distress in another searing kiss.
“I promise to teach you everything about raising a king.” He stopped, rose on his outstretched arms to look down on her nakedness as she lay half-fainting with pleasure and shock. “But what am I saying? You already know all you need to know. You’ve already tamed and enslaved one, made him wish to be only king of your heart.”
She put him straight. “You are king of my life, and beyond.” Pride and joy flared in his eyes. And for some reason she thought this the right time to tell him another thing. “And I want to train to be a surgeon.”
His golden eyes sparkled down on her with pride, becoming blinding. “So you’re going to be a full-time lover, wife, mother to a king, doctor, but you want more?”
“Yes. This is the only way I can fully share with you all the responsibilities and experiences in our work.”
He closed his eyes, as if in pain. “Ya Ullah, so there is more. More awe, more gratitude, more love. Always will be, with you.” He took her lips in a pledging kiss, withdrew. “You can be anything you want to be. You can have anything in the world. You can have the very world, ya janaani.”
She surged up, kissed him all over his face. “I already have it. I have you.”
His eyes singed her down to her soul, with his esh’g. “You have me, ya mashoogati. How you do.”
And he spent the rest of the night, pledged to spend the rest of his life, showing her just how.
