Dark Horses: (Blood Brothers #5)

by Manda Mellett

  It’s good to be back in the company of my brothers again. Or that’s how I’m starting to think, until Nijad opens his mouth again. He sits forward and puts his hands on his knees. “So, she’s pretty, isn’t she?” His words are accompanied by a teasing expression on his face.

  My younger brother’s abrupt change of subject has me floundering, “Who?” At this point, I genuinely don’t know what he’s talking about.

  “Oh come on, Jasim. The girl, the guitar player for Anarchy Rules.” Kadar shakes his head, “Not sure I’m a fan of the band’s name.”

  My eyes narrow, “What do you know about the group?”

  Nijad shrugs, “We watched a couple of their YouTube vids. They’re good.”

  Even better live, I think to myself. And immediately I recall Janna in her Domme costume and my prick starts to stir.

  “Is she why you agreed to plead their case? I can see the attraction,” Kadar jokes.

  I need to nip this in the bud, and fast. “Stop right there, both of you. She’s the same age as Aiza, far too young to attract me. She’s innocent, too.”

  “Innocent?” Nijad’s brow rises. “She didn’t look it on film. But I can see why you wouldn’t be interested, of course. She’s obviously a Domme.”

  “She’s no Domme,” I scoff before I can censor my words, “She’s an out and out submissive.”

  My younger brother doesn’t miss a trick, “And how the fuck do you know that?” He’s grinning, the bastard, “And she’s only what, eleven years younger than you?”

  “She’s barely out of fucking school!” I retort.

  “Hmm,” Kadar’s looking at me with interest, “It’s like that, is it?”

  “Like fucking what?”

  Nijad chuckles, “You like her.”

  I feel like stamping my foot like an irate child, “I don’t like her. And anyway, I’m going to Z̧almā in the morning. I’ll have nothing to do with her while she’s here.” As Nijad continues to look at me suspiciously, I continue, “I’m here to work, not to babysit a child.”

  Kadar shakes his head, “Not tomorrow. I’ve got meetings set up for you in Al Qur’ah before you head to the desert city. No, we’ll need you here for a week at least. And, as you brought them here, I expect you to oversee this Anarchy Rules crowd getting settled in the harem.”

  “I didn’t sign up for that.”

  “You arranged this, brother.” Kadar’s tone has changed, “They wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t spoken, vouched, for them. I expect you to do what I say.”

  Looking into his face, I see it’s the emir that has spoken. I swear under my breath as Nijad huffs a laugh. Don’t they know what they’re doing to me? They’re putting temptation directly in my way. Now I’ve got to man up and be strong enough to avoid it.

  Chapter 12

  Janna

  It feels more like we’re on holiday. After sorting ourselves out and settling into the more than adequate accommodation we’d been offered, we decide to wander down into the city to see what Al Qur’ah has to offer. Arranging to meet up again later, Blake, Eli and Sally go off on their own leaving me, the rest of Anarchy Rules, and Sunny to explore. It’s not long before we find it’s an amazing place, full of colour, exotic sounds and aromas. I fast fall in love with the souk, and could spend hours there browsing the various stalls and probably spending more than I can afford. Unable to resist, I buy myself a beautiful headscarf, the delicate designs simply too hard to pass by, and, thankfully, Mickey pulls me away from the jewelry on display, before I give into temptation.

  The palace is just on the outskirts of town, so all the shops and tourist areas can be reached on foot. Rory and Sunny want to see the beach, so we head toward the dunes leading down to the sea. The sun is dipping toward the horizon, more comfortable now as the heat of the day begins to cool as night falls. When the sky darkens we head back to town, noting a busy casino along the way and deciding to visit it another time. Finally, hungry after the journey and our explorations, we find a restaurant that’s geared toward tourists, and are able to pick food from the menu that’s written in English as well as Arabic.

  The only downside is that there’s no alcohol on offer, but Joe had already checked out the fridges where we’re staying, and had found them well stocked, so after we’ve eaten, we make our way back.

  We must have been out for hours, it’s late evening by the time we return. The flight, our walking tour, and delicious meal where I’d again eaten far too much, have taken their toll. I have one glass of wine, then take myself off to bed, leaving the rest of them to enjoy themselves.

  After a quick run through the shower, I get ready for bed, adjusting the air con so it’s a comfortable temperature, and cracking open the window to let the unfamiliar sounds and aromas drift in. In the distance, I can hear some sort of night bird calling, and faint shouts can be heard from the souk, which seems to run on into the night. There’s music playing somewhere, but nothing I can identify.

  My eyes close, but my brain can’t seem to quiet. Now I’m in bed, my tiredness flees and I’m wide awake. I toss and turn, knowing the time difference means I’ll need to get up four hours earlier than normal. But even that thought doesn’t make me sleep. And predictably, my mind goes to the sheikh who ignored me today.

  Remembering the look on his face when I sat in Mickey’s lap I wonder, had it really been envy, or is that just wishful thinking? There had been something he hadn’t liked, that was for sure. Is it that he just he doesn’t understand the overfamiliarity between us? Mickey has looked out for me since I was sixteen, treating me exactly as he does his sister. Yet, to an outsider, maybe it had been inappropriate for me to be so close to a man who isn’t a blood relation.

  Oh, how amazing it would be if I’m right and Jasim returns my attraction to him. He’s like no man I’ve ever met before. Just being around him excites me in ways I’ve never felt.

  Writhing to try to get comfortable in a strange bed, my body remembers what it was like to have him spooned behind me, holding me through the night after my ordeal. The memory of the attack might have faded away, but I can clearly recall every moment of my time with Jasim in full technicolour. The image of his chiseled and oh so handsome face comes to my mind, his slightly thin lips, his aquiline nose, and shapely chin covered with a short neatly trimmed beard, all framed by that luscious dark hair are etched on my brain. And his eyes, oh, his eyes. So dark, and flecked with gold. Mmm mm.

  My pulse starts to quicken, my skin becomes flushed. I can feel myself getting wet, just thinking about him, imagining those large but attractive hands caressing my body. What would it actually feel like to have a man’s hands on me? My own fingers trail to my breasts, imagining Jasim touching me there. My nipples grow erect at just the thought.

  My other hand wanders down, slipping inside my sleep shorts, touching myself. My clit is already pulsing, needing relief. Trying to imagine something I’ve never felt, another person touching me there, I circle my fingers around, sliding along my slit and collecting the slippery moisture and using it as lubrication. I strum faster, my heels dig into the bed. It’s his face I see as I come to my peak, my muscles going taut as I go over the top.

  Stuffing my other hand into my mouth I suppress the slight cry my self-satisfaction elicits. But I feel no relief, my attempt to gratify myself unsuccessful. I’m feeling less fulfilled than if I hadn’t touched myself at all.

  Sitting up, I plump up the pillows, my fist hitting them hard in frustration. I’ve seen a lot of men over the years, men who’ve flirted with me, who’d made known that they wanted me, but none that made me feel I wanted to make the effort to break out of my protective custody and take them up on it. Not until I met Jasim. Is it that he’s a powerful sheikh, his unattainability that attracts me? Or that he’s the one man who doesn’t react to me.

  Just go to sleep, Janna. Easier said than done.

  Eventually I do drift off and, not surprisingly, have exotic dreams flavoured with the new and d
ifferent sights I’d seen the night before, and one where a mysterious robed sheikh steals me and takes me away to his harem. In my dream, the sheikh, of course, wears the face of Jasim.

  I wake to the loud sound of bird song, and light streaming in through the gap in the curtains. Stretching, I let out a wide yawn before glancing at the clock to see it’s already nine o’clock. Christ, I’m still tired, and no wonder. It would only be five am in England. Still, the quickest way to adapt is to go with the flow, and try and force my traitorous body to believe it’s later and I really need to get my lazy self out of this bed. How is it, that a bed that feels so uncomfortable when you’re trying to go to sleep, becomes the cosiest you’ve ever slept on come morning?

  It’s obvious, by the time I’ve traipsed downstairs, that my companions are no wider awake than I. In fact, they seem worse.

  “What time did you go to bed?”

  Mickey’s looking particularly worn-out as he replies, his usually neatly brushed hair still knotted from the night, “Half past five,” he replies, sheepishly.

  “Yeah, we got talking, you know how it is.” Joe takes out a packet of cigarettes, and offers one to Mickey, the only other smoker among us. Joe swears smoking gives him that sexy rasp to his voice, despite the amount of times I tell him it will also give him lung cancer.

  “I hope you’re going to take those outside,” I tell him, through pursed lips.

  “Yes, Mum,” he replies with a laugh. Joe and Mickey disappear out the back door into the tiny yard that sits between the house and the palace wall.

  I flop down on the nearest chair. “What time are we going to the harem?” I can’t wait to see where we’re filming, that exotic sounding place that so far, I’ve only seen pictures of. I’m looking forward to seeing whether it lives up to my imagination.

  “About ten.” Ben comes over and sits beside me, his hand touching mine, “How you doing, kiddo?”

  Inside I seethe at the use of the pet term, but calling him out on it will only make him tease me. I long to shake off this image they still have of a young girl. If they don’t see I’m a woman, how can I expect Jasim to? I do what I always do, I ignore it. “I’m fine, Ben. Eager to get started.”

  Giving my hand a final pat, he links his fingers behind his neck, “After we’ve seen the harem, we thought we’d check out the sites where me might do some shooting to start with, find the best back drop.”

  The door to the house opens, and the film crew step in.

  “Hey, good timing. We were just talking about scouting locations.” Ben nods as he greets them.

  Sally’s eyes brighten, “Do you think we’ll be able to film at the souk? We went there last night and it was amazing.”

  “We’ll have to ask Ahmed about the local customs and whether we’d be allowed to.” He refers to the driver cum guide who dropped us off yesterday. He nods as Blake indicates the kitchen, a silent request for permission to make a drink. Eli wanders off with him.

  “What time is he coming to collect us?” I ask, reaching down to idly scratch at an itch on my leg. Shit, it’s an insect bite. I make a mental note not to leave the window open tonight.

  “Ten.”

  “Anyone else want coffee?” Eli calls out.

  “I’ve already had one, thanks.” The others join me in echoing my refusal.

  “It won’t be long before Ahmed’s here.” Ben’s consulting his watch.

  I’m seem to be the better organised, dressed and with my normal smattering of light makeup on. “I’m ready,” I tell him.

  He’s obviously not. “I’d better go and get these knots out of my hair.”

  “Want me to do it for you?” It’s something I’ve often done, envying his thick curly hair which reaches down past his shoulders, while mine is completely straight. When he nods, I reach down to my bag, extract a comb, and start teasing out the tangles. Living around these men I often do such things for them. Sally comes over and watches, seeming bemused by my task.

  Joe and Mickey come back in as I’m finishing his hair, making no comment as it’s a sight they’ve seen many times. Travis wanders in with Tim, and they start discussing sound systems or something of that ilk. Sunny comes down, Rory’s arm around her, and Liam’s not far behind. Looking around at them all, I feel smug that at least I got a few hours of sleep last night. Everyone else certainly looks worse for wear.

  “Did you empty the fridges?” It’s hard to keep the grin from my face.

  “Almost. Hey, shift ya butt, let me sit down.” Sunny gives me a prod and ends up sharing my chair.

  There’s a knock on the door, Ben’s closest so opens it, and Ahmed steps inside. We’re lounging over all available seating places, and from the look on his face, he’s not impressed. He tuts with his tongue, and then a professional mask shutters his features.

  “If you’re ready,” he announces in his clipped English tones, “I’ll take you across to the harem now.”

  It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for. I’m the first to stand up. “Come on, you lot. Let’s get this party started!”

  There’s a few grumbles and moans, but mostly supressed as underneath the hangovers and lack of sleep everyone’s as eager as me. What started as an idea from pictures in a bridal magazine is about to become reality. Following Ahmed, band and film crew are led around the outside of the palace to an ancient doorway in the back. He unlocks it using an out of place looking modern key pad and the door, which looks a thousand years old, incongruously slides open along metal rails.

  Standing on the threshold, my eyes open in amazement. We’re entering by the garden entrance, flowering plants abound and colourful parrots squawking as they fly around the trees. To me it’s an incredible sight. “Do they stay in here?” I ask our guide, eyes wide, my hand shielding them from the sun as I try to track the birds overhead.

  “They’re free to fly away, but we feed them and encourage them to stay,” he replies.

  “Wish they’d bloody bugger off,” Tim mumbles, not too quietly. “Be hell if we’re trying to record out here.”

  I hear it as beautiful bird song, he’s obviously only hearing squawks.

  Ahmed regards him thoughtfully, “Inside the harem it’s quieter. Can you film and add sound later?”

  Tim shrugs, “They can mime,” he points at us, “But it’s never as good as capturing sound at the same time. Gives it more of a studio feel, as no one can ad lib.”

  “We’ll manage,” Mickey pats him on the back. “And if we’re playing out here, the birds might get frightened away.

  “Or squawk louder.” Tim’s not convinced.

  “Come.” Our guide leads the way around the raised flower beds, allowing us to stop for a second and admire the impressive fountain, water playing and landing in a pool with a fascinating mosaic on the bottom. It’s a welcome cooling scene in the heat. I’ll be glad to get into some shade, the temperature here is approaching unbearable as we’re heading for the hottest part of the day.

  After pausing at the fountain, Ahmed at last leads us on through huge glass doors which slide open at the touch of a remote, arched windows reaching from the roof to the floor on either side of them. It’s my first look inside the harem, and, in this instance at least, the camera hadn’t lied.

  As expected from the pictures in the magazine, there are bedrooms dotted around the outside, their doors concealed by drapes which make them blend into the scene. In the centre is a huge bathing pool, shallow, but as I walk closer, I see a mosaic even more impressive than the one we saw outside on the bottom. It’s a sea scene, with fishes, mermaids, Neptune, whales, and all manner of creatures, the colours bright and shimmering beneath the water. Ripples are caused by what is presumably a modern filtration system, and there’s a smaller fountain playing in the middle.

  “How deep is it?” Joe asks, stepping forward, stretching out his hands to the water.

  “About thirty centimetres,” Ahmed informs him.

  Joe looks around, his face becoming a
nimated. “We could stand in it and play.”

  Mickey laughs aloud, “All right for you, but where shall we put my drums?”

  “Could be done with a platform.” Travis seems like he’s bought into the idea.

  “Isn’t there a danger of electrocution?” I ask, not sure how it would work.

  “Hey, live dangerously, babe.” The arm Rory doesn’t have around Sunny’s shoulder, slips over mine as he hugs us both to him. “With the radio mics and pick-ups there shouldn’t be any problems.”

  As Blake and Eli discuss practicalities with Sally, Ahmed coughs, making us aware of his presence, and begins to point out features we’d missed. One intrigues me, a doorway that now leads to the staff quarters, used to be the sultan’s entrance, and a hidey hole above, where he’d sit and look out on his concubines, choosing which would be brought to his bed that night. And of course, my mind has to go there, and the thought of Jasim sitting hidden, pointing down as he selects me, sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

  It’s at that moment the great golden doors at the opposite end to the garden entrance swing open, and in walk two women, Caucasian but in Arabic dress, and behind them are two men, one in robes, and one in a tailored suit. My mouth drops open as I recognise Jasim, not having dared hope that I’d see him today. The other man, I notice quickly, must be his brother. He looks too much like him to be anything but.

  The women step forward, entering at a faster pace than the men. The first one to reach us holds out a hand in welcome, “Hi, I’m Cara. And this is my husband, Nijad. You’ve met his brother, Jasim, obviously. And this, here,” she pulls her female companion up beside her, “This is Zoe, wife of the emir and designer of the harem. She knows everything about it if there’s anything you want to ask.” Waving her hand, she draws our attention to the renovations which have been completed so carefully. “She’s a genius, as you can see.”

  A broad grin crosses Zoe’s face, and she fists her hand and bumps it on Cara’s arm, “Says the hacker to the landscape gardener,” she says in a musical joking voice.