by Nalini Singh
He leaned down and tasted her lower lip. Her teeth scraped gently over his in return. Yes, he thought, this Mina was no tame kitten to be ordered to heel. This Mina had claws. Would she use them to fight him or fight for him?
New excitement flickered through his bones.
TWO DAYS LATER, HE WALKED into a turret room at one end of their suite, just in time to see Mina raise her arms above her head and say, “Perfect!”
Surrounded on three sides by clear glass, the room was bathed in sunshine. As Mina danced across the floor, dust motes whirled with her, as if excited by her laughter. His whole body clenched. Buried feelings shook off their bindings. So easily, she could once again hold his heart in her hands.
Shocked by the knowledge of his susceptibility to a woman whose loyalty had never belonged to him, he fought off the tenderness she’d aroused.
“What’s perfect?” he asked at last.
Startled, Jasmine froze and met Tariq’s dark gaze. His power and charisma seemed to have increased in the hours that they’d been apart. “This room,” she managed to answer. “I thought I’d use it for a workroom. Is that okay?”
Tariq moved farther inside. “This is your home, Mina. Do as you wish.”
His generosity gave lie to his harsh words in the car. Jasmine smiled and hugged him. He didn’t react, and she drew away before he could think to push her away. Affection was something completely different from touching in bed, and Tariq had given no sign that he wanted anything from her outside of that sensual arena. The knowledge hurt, but she was determined to break through the barriers between them.
“Thank you.” Walking over to one of the windows, she found that it looked out into their private garden. “This room would be perfect for your painting. Where’s your studio?”
The vibration of the floor beneath her bare feet warned her of his approach. Seconds later, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “I am a sheik, Mina. I don’t have time for such things.”
Jasmine frowned. “But you loved painting.” She treasured the painting he’d done for her in New Zealand. It had become a talisman of sorts, keeping her focused on her dream.
“We do not always get to do what we love.”
“No,” she agreed, shaken by the implacability of his statement. Her Tariq, who’d been gentle enough in his heart to truly love, was now buried under the stoney facade of this sheik. Doubts about her ability to reach him surfaced once again, though she tried to fight them. For a woman who’d never been loved by those who were supposed to treasure her despite her faults, it was a task that required a mix of defiant courage and desperate hope.
Tariq closed his hands around her neck and caressed the sensitive skin with his thumbs, his eyes hooded and mysterious. “We do not have the time for a wedding journey, but I am scheduled to visit one of the desert tribes tomorrow. You will come.”
He was giving her no choice, but Jasmine didn’t want one. She’d spent four years apart from him. It was enough. “Where are we going?” Her skin felt as if it was on fire.
Tariq rubbed his thumb over one particular spot. “I marked you this morning.”
Her hand flew to her throat and touched his hand. “I didn’t realize when I chose this blouse.”
He looked at her, the green of his eyes altered by emotion to something close to black. “You are mine in every way, Mina.”
She didn’t know what to say to the possessiveness in his tone. It was a little frightening to be the wife of this dangerous man. Sometimes her Tariq appeared, but mostly, all she saw was this cold, glittering mask.
“Such soft, white skin, my Jasmine.” His throaty words made her relax. Tariq’s desire she could cope with, but when he retreated behind his shields, she wanted to scream with frustration. “You mark so easily.”
“Tariq, what—” she began, surprised when he started to undo the buttons on her scoop-neck blouse.
He ignored her fluttering hands. Eyes wide, Jasmine watched his dark head dip and then felt his mouth on her breast. Sizzling. It was the only word to describe the sensation of his lips against her skin. She clutched at his silken hair as he began to suck at the soft flesh. Her body felt like one big flame, his touch the fuel. A minute later, he moved away.
Picking up her hand, he touched one finger to the small red mark on her breast. “See this and know that you are mine.”
She stared at him, stunned by the possessive act. Yet she was also aroused beyond comprehension, her body reacting to the primitive maleness of his actions.
“Keep thinking those thoughts.” He kissed her once, a kiss calculated to keep her aching. “I will satisfy us both tonight.” Then he turned on his heel and strode out.
Jasmine felt her knees begin to buckle. She grabbed the window ledge behind her for support. Unbidden, one hand rose to her breast. He’d deliberately marked her as a gesture of possession, of ownership. She remembered the glittering satisfaction on his face, the harsh lines of his cheekbones, the lush sensuality of his lips, and shivered. Part of it was desire, but the other part was a painful uncertainty. She didn’t want to believe that Tariq felt only lust for her, not when he treated her so tenderly at times, but this act of branding had been driven by something darker than love or affection. Something that she instinctively knew could destroy their relationship if she didn’t find and confront it.
THE NEXT DAY DAWNED WITH skies of crystal clarity and beauty so pure and pristine it made Jasmine’s heart ache. Such glory humbled her and yet gave her courage.
They left Zulheina in a limousine for the five-hour journey into the hinterlands of Zulheil. From there, they would have to go by camel to the important, though small, desert holding of Zeina.
“Who are the others following us?” she asked Tariq, after they had pulled out of the palace.
“Three of my inner council are coming.” He crooked a finger. Jasmine smiled and moved to sit beside him. He cradled her against his body. Unlike the steely intensity of his passion the night before, today he was relaxed, content to just hold her. “At the end of the road, we’ll be met by two guides sent from Zeina to lead us to the outpost.”
“It sounds isolated.”
“It is the way of our people. We are not like the roaming Bedouin tribes, because we settle and set up cities. But for the most part, our cities are small and isolated.”
“Even Zulheina isn’t that big, is it?”
Tugging off the tie at the end of her plait, he unraveled her hair. Jasmine laid her head against his chest and basked in his unexpected affection. Just yesterday, she hadn’t believed it possible that he’d enjoy this gentle touching.
“No. Abraz is the biggest city, the city we show to the outside world, but Zulheina is the heart of the sheikdom.”
“Why is Zeina important?”
He moved his hand to her nape and began to rub his fingers over the sensitive skin in a slow caress. She arched into his touch like a cat. “Ah, Mina, you’re a contradiction.” His amused words made her tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
“In what way?”
He touched her parted lips with his fingers and said, “So free and uninhibited in my arms and yet such a lady in public. It’s a delightful combination.”
“Why do I know you’re going to add something else?”
“I find I relish stripping away that ladylike facade in my imagination. It’s very enjoyable to spend time planning exactly how I will make you cry out.”
“Now every time I look at you, I’ll think you’re thinking that.” She blushed.
“You would probably be correct.” His laughing eyes warned her of his intention before he covered her lips with his own.
Jasmine wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed into the slow and lazy loving. Tariq was in no hurry. Pulling her into his lap, he caressed her breasts with hands that knew every inch of her, and gave her a lesson in the pleasures of kissing. He tasted the inner sweetness of her mouth and nibbled at her lips when she needed to breathe, th
en returned to tempt her with his tongue, seemingly willing to do this forever. She was the one who got so heated she began to wriggle.
“No more,” she gasped, and broke the kiss, aware of the hard ridge of his arousal under her bottom.
His eyes were slumberous, his desire clear, but he pulled down her tunic and settled her beside him on the seat again. “You’re right, Mina. I would need hours to finish this.”
Flustered and aroused, she scooted to the other side of the car. “Tell me about Zeina before you start your work.”
His smile was very male as he gazed at her heaving breasts. “Zeina is one of the major suppliers of Zulheil Rose. For some as yet unknown reason, the gem only exists alongside deposits of oil. It is a strange crystal.”
Jasmine whistled. “Talk about double dipping.”
“It could be like that, but over centuries, the tribes of Zulheil have set up an interconnecting system that means that not just those people living near such bounty will benefit. For example, the Zulheil Rose leaves Zeina in a condition close to its raw state. It then goes out to two tribes in the north, who train the best artisans in the world.”
Jasmine knew Tariq’s pride was justified. The artisans of Zulheil were considered magicians. “Wait a second.” She frowned in thought. “If the crystal is only found next to deposits of oil, why isn’t Zulheina an oil center?”
“Zulheina is odd in more than one sense. Contradictory as it seems, our engineers and geologists insist there is not an ounce of oil in the area,” he informed her. “So we think of the palace crystal as a gift from the Gods.”
“I can’t argue with that. It’s so beautiful.” She sighed in remembrance. “What’s the purpose of this trip?”
“We’re a scattered people. I make it a point to visit each tribe at least once a year.” He stretched out his long legs, taking up even more of her space. “I’m afraid I must read these reports now, Mina.” He gestured to some papers that he’d slipped into one of the pockets lining the limousine doors.
She nodded in acquiescence, thinking over everything he’d said. It was clear that while Tariq didn’t yet trust her with his love, he had no qualms about sharing the business of his sheikdom with her. For the first time in her life, she felt a part of something greater, not just an outside observer. With hope renewed in her heart, she plucked a small sketchbook out of her purse and began to design a dress of moonlight and silver.
TARIQ LOOKED UP FROM HIS papers to find Mina’s hand flying in graceful strokes across the page. Her face was intense in concentration, her mouth set in a way that suggested something had caught her attention. He was fascinated.
When they’d first met, she’d been a student, but her studies hadn’t captured her interest. Today, she was fully absorbed in her thoughts. This was, he realized with a sense of wonder he couldn’t fight, the first time he’d truly come face-to-face with the woman his Mina had grown into.
“May I see?” he asked, wanting to learn about this new Jasmine, this woman who threatened to catch him in a net far stronger than the one that had ensnared him four years ago.
Startled blue eyes looked into his, but then a slow smile bloomed. “If you like.” At the shy welcome, he moved to sit beside her, his arm along the back of the seat.
He looked over her shoulder. “An evening gown.”
“I thought that I’d use material shot with silver.”
Her hair was soft against his fingertips as he leaned down to study the clean lines of the drawing. “You’re talented. This is lovely.”
Her cheeks flushed with color. “Really?”
There was hunger in the need she tried to hide. He recalled her defensiveness about her designing when he’d first questioned her—the reaction of someone whose dream had never received support. Distanced from the rapier-sharp pain of the past, he began to see a glimmer of the forces that had shaped this woman and her decisions. A kind of furious tenderness for her rose inside him. The urge to punish those who had hurt her while she’d been lost to him was so strong, he had to exercise conscious effort to control it.
“Yes, really. You might find some material to your liking in the shipment that comes from Razarah in the next month.” In fact, he’d make sure that bolts were delivered for her perusal. “Tell me about your designs.”
Eyes bright, she did. The journey passed in easy companionship that surprised him. Since he’d ascended to the throne, he’d never been free to simply “be” with anyone. Now Mina, with her laughter and her dreams, was tempting him to relax. To play. Did he trust her enough to unbend that much?
CHAPTER FIVE
“I’M SCARED,” JASMINE blurted out.
Tariq turned to face her. “Scared?”
She nodded. “They’re so big and…”
To her surprise, he walked over and pulled her into a gentle embrace. “Don’t worry, Mina, I’ll take care of you.”
“Promise?” Her voice was shaky. She hadn’t thought through the idea of what a trip on the back of a camel would entail. It had been something vague and slightly exotic.
“What is this?” Tariq moved back, his hands on her shoulders, eyes dark with concern. “You’re terrified.”
She nodded, miserable. “I can’t stand heights and their backs are so high.”
“There is no other way to reach the tribe or we’d take it.” He cupped her cheeks in his palms.
“It’s okay. I can handle it,” she lied.
“So brave, Mina.” He rubbed his thumb over her quivering lower lip. “The car is still here. You may return home.”
Jasmine’s head jerked up. He’d been so domineering in his demand that she accompany him that this concession was a real surprise. “You don’t want me to come anymore?”
“I would not have you suffer.”
She bit her lower lip. “How long will this trip take?”
Tariq dropped his hands to her waist. “It’ll take three days to reach Zeina. With the time I must spend there and the return trip, a week and a half is an optimistic guess.”
A week and a half! She couldn’t bear to be parted from him for that long. “I’ll come. Can I ride with you?”
He nodded. There was approval in the soft kiss he dropped on her lips. “You can snuggle your face against my chest and close your eyes, just like you do in bed.”
She blushed. It was true that she liked to sleep with her head on his chest, her arms and legs spread over him, but she hadn’t realized that he’d noticed her preference. She raised her hand and stroked his jaw, which was shadowed by his white head covering. “Thank you, Tariq.”
“You are welcome, my wife. Come, it is time to go.”
Sometimes, Jasmine thought, as Tariq helped her mount the sway-backed creature, her husband could be the most thoughtful of men. He mounted behind her before she could begin to panic. For the ride, both of them were in wide-legged pants and tunics, their heads and necks also covered from the harsh sun.
Her stomach lurched at the camel’s first step, but she kept her eyes resolutely forward, determined to conquer this fear if it killed her. The endless desert vista was an unexpected ally, tranquil and beautiful. By the time they stopped for the day, she was watching everything with wide eyes. The camel’s rolling gait was a little disconcerting, but as long as she didn’t look directly at the ground, no nausea arose. And in truth, her husband’s strong grip around her waist almost gave her the confidence to do that, as well.
However, she understood that even he couldn’t help her with a sore rear. They had stopped at a hidden desert oasis for the night when she discovered just how bad it hurt. After they arrived, she excused herself and walked until she was out of sight of the men. She quickly took care of her needs and then stood in the shadow of a small tree, rubbing her sore behind.
Tariq’s low chuckle made her spin around, face flaming. He was standing less than a foot away, his arms crossed over his chest, a wide smile on his aristocratic face.
“What are you doing here?” She dro
pped her hands and started to walk past him, embarrassed.
He caught her around the waist with one arm and swung her against his hard body. She turned her face away. Tariq nuzzled her neck affectionately. “Don’t be angry, Mina. I was worried when you didn’t return to camp.”
Mollified, and melting from his warm touch, she decided to be honest. “It hurts.” For the first time since she’d arrived in this land, she felt ill at ease, a foreigner unused to the ways of these exotic people. She needed Tariq’s comfort. What she got was something totally unexpected.
His hands dropped to her bottom and began to massage her aching flesh with soothing strokes. “It will get worse before it gets better. I believe that’s a Western saying.”
She groaned, too relieved to be embarrassed. His hands felt like magic, but she knew that if he kept going, she’d do something silly like ask him to make love to her. Shoving at his chest, she backed away, her legs shaky.
“We, um…better return or we’ll miss dinner.” She didn’t look him in the eye, afraid of her own hungry desire.
His disappointed sigh was loud in the silence. “You are correct, Mina. Come.” He held out his hand. Jasmine slipped her palm into his and they made their way to camp.
Her wicked husband leaned over and said, “I promise to soothe your sore muscles tonight, my Jasmine. I wouldn’t have you so aching from riding that I couldn’t ride you,” just as they reached camp. A blazing blush stole over her.
The other men took one look at her and smiled knowingly. Ignoring them, Jasmine sat down next to Tariq. He sat to her left and a little in front of her, protecting her from the curious looks. Jasmine almost smiled at his possessiveness, but didn’t challenge him. Aside from the fact that she was relieved she didn’t have to face everyone in her current state, she would never dishonor Tariq in front of his people. In private, she felt free to question him, but deep instinct told her it would be a betrayal to do so publicly.
