Dark Horses: (Blood Brothers #5)

by Manda Mellett

  I’ll take a few more hours in his company while berating myself, knowing it’s stupid to accept his invitation. Now I’ve had another taste and it’s even better than I remembered, I’ll be like an addict, just hanging around for my next fix. And every time when, if, he calls, I’ll drop everything to be with him. I’m stupid, I should be hardening my heart and staying away. What an imbecile I’ve turned out to be, just another woman desperate for any attention from her man.

  I make no further argument as he leads me through the now much quieter club. Scenes seem to be over, people cuddled together, soft voices speaking by the bar. I tuck myself into his side as he crosses the room and out through the door to where the limousine’s waiting.

  I remember his impressive home, and he takes me to the same bedroom. Totally drained and exhausted, I barely notice as he helps me undress, folds back the duvet and encourages me to slip into the bed. As he slides in behind me, it seems all too familiar. The only difference to the last time I was here is that this time he’s naked and under the covers.

  With too much to contemplate, my brain seems to shut down, and with warm arms surrounding me, I sleep like the dead, having the best night’s rest since I returned to England.

  I didn’t notice Jasim leaving the bed, but something alerts me and I start to stir. I open my eyes to see Jasim staring down at me with a mug in his hand.

  “Coffee?”

  Violently I shake my head. As my hand goes up to cover my mouth, I wave him away, get up, and run to the en-suite bathroom. As I’m leaning over the bowl, I feel hands at my back, smoothing my hair away from my face, and then a tissue is passed to me. As I wipe my mouth I feel myself flushing, from the nausea and embarrassment.

  “I’ve made an appointment,” he tells me emotionlessly.

  “What?” My brain hasn’t started functioning yet.

  “Janna. We’ve got to find out. We’re seeing a doctor at eleven. She’s a friend of mine.” His voice gives nothing away. Surely he must be feeling something? Dread at the least.

  Tears come to my eyes, and I can’t turn around to face him. I don’t want to know. It’s easier to pretend that nothing is wrong.

  I come up with excuses, “I can’t go in my little black dress.”

  “It’s only just gone nine. I’ll take you home to get changed, and we’ll go from there. We’ve plenty of time.”

  I start shaking, and it’s not that I’m naked and cold, and hanging my head over the toilet. It’s the thought of facing my friends in the state I’m in. Or the state I’m possibly in. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

  He strokes my back, I lean into his soothing touch. “Leave it with me.” He passes me a robe, “Put this on for now. Are you feeling better? Can you eat some toast or something?”

  Suddenly I’m feeling hungry, my stomach growls as I make my response. “Toast would be good.”

  “Come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

  He leaves me alone. I splash water on my face, use the toilet for its proper purpose, and run my fingers through my hair. As I did last time, I find a spare toothbrush in the cabinet. Having stolen a few moments to myself, I meet him in the kitchen, and put a small amount of butter on the piece of dry toast. My hand is not at all steady as I bring it to my mouth.

  “Good girl, eat it all up.” Under his watchful stare I manage to finish the slice, then, suddenly feeling hungry, reach for another.

  He grins, I seem to have pleased him. Then he leans up against the counter and crosses his arms, “If you’re pregnant,” he starts, but I interrupt him.

  “I’m not.”

  “Janna…”

  My eyes plead with him not to talk about this. I can’t bear to think about it. We’ll have the discussion if my nightmare comes true.

  He looks frustrated, his hands running through his dark hair. But he respects my wishes, indicating my plate. “Have you had enough?”

  I nod, and push it toward him. He takes it and places it in the dishwasher. “My housekeeper will be here soon. She’ll take care of cleaning up.” It’s another sign of the gulf between us, I always have to clear up after myself. And usually after the rest of Anarchy Rules as well. How could I have ever dreamed I’d fit into his world?

  When he holds out his hand, I clasp his fingers, and he leads me through to the lounge. I hesitate before sitting down and tell him defiantly, “Look Jasim, I don’t want to go to a doctor. There’s no need.” Not with him. I’ll go buy a test at the chemist and then make any necessary decision depending on the result. He doesn’t have to be involved. He did what he could to avoid such a situation. It would be my mess to sort out.

  But I should have known he wouldn’t agree. Swinging around fast he cups my face, “Janna. Do this for me. The doctor we’re going to see does a lot of health testing for the club. If for nothing else, we can get those tests completed. You do want to go to Tiacapan again with me, don’t you?”

  I can’t do anything but nod. Of course I do. If that’s all he’s offering me, I’ll jump in with both feet. I’m just terrified that by going to the doctor I’m going to discover a truth that I don’t want to admit. And where would we go from there? How will that affect Jasim? And our non-relationship? Or playing in the band? I can’t be pregnant.

  “I don’t want to know,” I admit, my eyes filling with tears.

  He hugs me to him, rocks me like a baby as I sob in his arms.

  I don’t know how long we sit there, him trying to imbibe his strength into me, neither of us saying anything. We’re disturbed by the sound of a doorbell ringing. Jasim pulls away, and after telling me to stay put, goes to answer it. He returns with several bags in his hands. He places them on a couch, then beckons me over.

  “Hopefully there’s something in here you can use.”

  Curious, I flick my eyes to him, but he’s looking impassive. Gingerly, I reach down and open one of the bags. It’s full of brand new clothes, jeans, t-shirts. Again I glance up, puzzled, and open another bag. A smart looking leather jacket is there. And in another, a couple of bags and accessories. And the final one has a selection of underwear. My mouth drops open.

  “How the hell?”

  He shrugs, “I called a personal shopper. You didn’t want to get your own clothes, you couldn’t wear last night’s dress. Take what you want, if you don’t like something, I can send it back.”

  “I can’t afford any of this. It’s all designer.” I pick at the labels.

  He smirks, “I can afford it, and you are my wife.”

  “In name only.” I dismiss it.

  He frowns for a moment, then quickly recovers. “Look, you need clothes. Just choose something for today. You don’t need to keep it all if you don’t want to.”

  It must be nice to be so rich. Snap your fingers and things get done.

  He pats my shoulder, “Take it into the bedroom and try it on. Find something to wear this morning.” His eyes pointedly go to an ornate clock hanging on the wall, “We’re running out of time.”

  And that’s how I find myself dressed in new bra and knickers, designer jeans which are butter soft and fit like a glove, a pretty blouse with lace inset and a new leather jacket, and walking into a doctor’s office just an hour later.

  I might be dressed up, but it doesn’t alter my mood. Especially after I have to pee in a cup, and then wait for the results.

  Jasim sits beside me in the comfortable leather chairs, a far cry from the hard, plastic seats in my normal surgery. In the background, soothing music plays, but it doesn’t help calm my nerves. As I feel a squeeze on my hand, I realise I’m trembling.

  “It will be alright,” Jasim tries to calm me. “Whatever happens.”

  If my fears come true, I feel nothing will ever be right again. I’m picking at my nails and biting my lip, with Jasim now silent beside me, when the nurse calls me in.

  “Sheikha Janna Kassis? The doctor will see you now.” I need Jasim’s tug at my hand to get me moving. I didn’t even recognize my
married name.

  But that’s the least of my worries as we enter a surgery, and an older woman stands and holds out her hand. Not only does Jasim take it, but he kisses her cheek, “Mary, thank you for fitting us in this morning.”

  “For you, Jasim, I’ll always make time. You know that.” There’s twinkle in her eye, and then she turns to me. “It’s nice to meet you, Sheikha.”

  I nod distractedly, still amazed he’s booked me in as his wife.

  “Take a seat, both of you.” She waves us to chairs placed in front of a desk, and sits behind it. She picks up a piece of paper. “Right, so the good news is that you’re pregnant. Congratulations.”

  As she taps something into her computer, I feel the blood drain from my face. No. I can’t be. “Are you certain?” I ask her, not even daring to look at Jasim. Suddenly, I don’t want him here. “Um, can I speak to you alone?”

  “No.”

  Wide eyed, I turn swiftly to Jasim and then look back at the doctor who’s shaking her head.

  “I’m your Dom and husband,” Jasim continues firmly. “And, the father of your child.”

  Mary leans on the desk, her hands clasped in front of her, “I take it you’re fairly new to the lifestyle? You do understand you will have made a commitment to your Dom that he owns your body?”

  “We haven’t signed a contract, Mary.” Jasim explains while my eyes open wider.

  She frowns, “In that case…”

  “But I’m going to stay.” His hand touches my face, “Janna, this is a shock. To you and to me. Let’s deal with it together, okay?”

  I don’t know what I’m thinking, let alone what he is. I want to curl into a ball and cry. In the scheme of things, it probably makes no difference whether he’s here or not. Reluctantly, I nod.

  “Let’s get to practicalities. Do you know how far along you are?” The doctor draws my attention.

  Jasim answers for me, “We were married twelve weeks ago.”

  “And you’ve had intercourse during that time?”

  Jasim answers unerringly, “No. The last time was three months ago. And we always used condoms.”

  Mary’s eyes widen, but she makes no comment. I flush, wondering what the hell she’s thinking about what seems to be a celibate marriage. But she asks no questions, and simply states, “Condoms have been known to be unreliable, but it’s rare.”

  Jasim shakes his head, “I know that, Mary.”

  She looks at me, “And you haven’t been with anyone else in the meantime?”

  My mouth drops open, “Of course not!”

  “In that case, you’re probably into your second trimester. And you haven’t taken a test or seen a doctor before?”

  Jasim interjects for me, “No.” His eyes seem to challenge the doctor.

  As the news starts to sink in, I think of my options, “What if I want an abortion?”

  Jasim growls softly, Mary looks up impassively, “We can talk about the courses of action open to you in a minute. For a start, we’ll do an ultrasound to see confirm your dates and see what we’re dealing with. Go behind the screen, pet, and get undressed. Just remove your jacket and top. You can leave your jeans and bra on. Lie on the bed and I’ll be in in a moment.

  Oh no. Not quite sure how I’m going to do this, I wait a second too long before complying. Obviously mistaking the reason for my delay, Jasim stretches out his hand.

  “Come on, habiti. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

  Yeah, and the doctor’s going to get an eyeful of something she doesn’t expect. But knowing I can’t refuse, I get up, surprised when Jasim clearly intends to accompany me. His expression is unreadable. Is he in as much shock as me? He nods at my top, but as my hands go to remove it, he pushes them away, taking hold of it himself and slipping it over my head. A twisted grin comes to my face as he sees me pull my arms into my sides. Awkwardly I lie down, keeping my body rigid and my hands tight to my hips.

  “Move your arms a little, give me some room.” My eyes flick to Jasim’s face, and he nods reassuringly. Doing as Mary asked, I cringe, knowing I’m revealing six tiny bruises down each side of my torso.

  Leaning down, Jasim plants a kiss to my mouth. “My marks,” he breathes into his ear.

  Mary notices them, but instead of reacting as though she’s seeing an example of abuse, she gives what strangely looks like a nod of approval to Jasim.

  And then comes the moment of truth. As the doctor puts cold gel all over my stomach, I begin to shake, hoping beyond hope the test was wrong and there’ll be nothing for her to find. I begin to shake, and embarrassment about my bruises becomes the last thing on my mind.

  “Relax, pet. This isn’t invasive. I’m just going to run this probe over your stomach.” She points to a screen by the side of the bed, and switches it on. “Just watch this and we’ll see how far along he or she is.”

  Oh please, don’t talk about it like that. It’s just a bundle of cells, a foreign body which shouldn’t be there.

  But she’s quick and efficient, and soon the probe finds its target. An image appears on the screen, and a loud fast thumping sound fills the air.

  “That’s baby’s heartbeat. And see, here it is. There’s the head, the spine…” She continues to point out body parts, and I can make out a hand and a foot, even fingers and toes. A lump comes into my throat. It’s a baby. Inside me. Jasim’s baby.

  She starts to take measurements. “Well, I think I can confirm you’re about fourteen weeks along which ties in nicely with what you told me, Jasim.”

  As she mentions his name, I turn my head to see such a look of amazement on his face. An expression I didn’t expect to see. His eyes are glistening with moisture. As if he feels me watching him, he tears his gaze away from the screen, then his lips close on mine. When he lifts them away, he smiles at me, “Our baby. Look, habiti. Our baby. We made that between us.”

  “An accident, Jasim.”

  Brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face, he grows serious, “I’ve always used condoms, never gone without. Never had one not work before. This is Allah’s work, Janna. It has to be.”

  Mary coughs to get our attention. “I’ll just wipe this gel off.” And without wasting a moment, she efficiently does. “Get dressed and we’ll talk through your options.”

  Jasim hands me my jeans, he’s looking concerned. “Janna, it’s your body, your choice.”

  “What do you want, Jasim?”

  He shakes his head, “I’m not going to influence you.”

  “But you just said it was God’s will!”

  His face twists, “How we go forward from here will be the challenge Allah has sent to us.”

  That doesn’t tell me anything. “I want to know what you think.”

  “Come,” he holds out his hand, “Mary’s a busy woman. Let’s finish up here, and then we can talk.”

  Walking out from behind the curtain, we take our seats again. Mary is watching us carefully, then she addresses me. “Do you still want to talk about your alternatives to going through with this? This pregnancy wasn’t planned. I take it it’s a shock.”

  A shock. Something so life changing described in two simple words. I started the morning with no other thought in mind but to end this alien life growing inside me if the pregnancy was confirmed. But I hadn’t been prepared to see what I’d thought of as a malignant entity looking anything but. My hand goes to my stomach, already feeling a strange protective instinct for the life growing inside me. The baby looked like a miracle, not a mistake.

  I glance at Jasim, he’s not giving anything away. And then back to the doctor, “No. I’m going ahead with the pregnancy.” Now the decision is made, suddenly something hits me, “Did everything, um, did it all look okay?” Already I’m concerned. “I haven’t done anything different, or looked after myself very well.”

  Mary nods, “You didn’t know. Some women don’t have many symptoms.” And some, like me, ignored those that were there. “I assure you I saw no
thing missing and nothing that shouldn’t be there. Have you drunk much alcohol? Smoked? Taken drugs?”

  I shake my head, “Very little alcohol. I’ve lost the taste for it, and coffee.”

  Mary gives a half-smile, “Sometimes your body knows what you need, even if your mind hasn’t quite accepted it. Now, I’ll just take some blood. If you need extra treatment, iron or the like I’ll be in touch. Just make sure you eat a balanced diet. I’ll give you a diet sheet so you know what you should be eating, and what to avoid.” She looks sympathetic, “I won’t go into too much now, as it’s a lot to take in. Especially as you didn’t expect it.”

  “What about sex? And play?” Jasim puts in. His comment surprises me as I’d been assuming he’d run from his responsibilities, and half expecting I wouldn’t see him after today. Maybe he’s simply covering all bases.

  “Sex as long as it’s comfortable. Avoid impact play, and nothing too strenuous.” She breaks off and winks, “Clothes pegs will be fine.”

  How does the doctor know how I got the marks?

  Jasim doesn’t notice my curious glance his way, he’s looking down at his hands, then back at the doctor, “I flogged her last night.”

  She grins, “Not too hard, I would hope? But babies are well protected in the womb, and are more resilient than you would think. I doubt you did any damage, but just take it easy from here on in, okay? You can keep a tally of any punishments earned for after the birth.”

  She’s in the lifestyle. She must be. And why does the thought of Jasim punishing me cause a totally inappropriate reaction from my libido? But he won’t be around after the birth. I’m trying hard not to get my hopes up, telling myself I don’t want him to stay close just because of the baby.

  Blood’s taken from my arm, I hardly notice with all the thoughts spinning through my head.

  “I play in a band.” It occurs to me, I ought to ask.

  “Just keep on with life as normal and do whatever you feel like doing as long as you’re comfortable. Listen to your body, it will tell you if you need to stop or slow down a bit.”