The Sheikh's Destiny

by Olivia Gates

  For how beautiful are tigers you’d never survive.)

  Her quatrain was greeted by a shockwave of silence.

  Suddenly a whistle pierced the hush, followed by a single pair of lazily clapping hands.

  “Thank you, cousin. I was about to provoke an international incident to avoid watching another folklore number.”

  That was Amjad. Of course.

  She couldn’t pay him or anyone else attention. Rashid had gotten up to his feet, was approaching her like that stealthy predator she’d just likened him to.

  He came to tower over her, his eyes the embodiment of adoration as he raised his voice. “An ode to the barren past when I could only look at my incomparable bride from afar:

  Amorro ala’d dyari, dyari Laylah

  Oqubbelo tha’l jeddara waa tha’l jeddari

  Wama hobbo’l dyari shagafna qulbi,

  Walaken hobbo man sakanna’d dyari.”

  (I pass by those dwellings, those of Laylah.

  And I kiss these walls and those walls

  It’s not love of the place that has taken my heart

  But of the One who dwelled in these halls.)

  Silence again blanketed the vastness, raging inside her.

  Instead of a defense, or an offense, he’d hit her with a quatrain from Qays Ibn Al Mulawah’s poetry, the ancient poet renowned as Majnun Laylah, or Laylah’s Madman.

  And he’d used Qays’s verses to claim he’d only loved and valued this palace and Zohayd’s for her being in them.

  Wow. Who would have thought he’d have poetry in his arsenal. But then as an ultimate tactician, he must have an infinite range of weapons. Seemed even now she hadn’t realized the scope of his talent for subterfuge.

  Before she could think of another unmasking verse, he went down before her on his knees. A collective gasp spread like wildfire around the ballroom. Everything inside her malfunctioned.

  Looking exactly like the man she’d thought loved her with all his heart, he took her hands to his lips then, in a now ragged voice, recited the verses.

  She gaped down at him long after he’d finished.

  In lyrical Arabic, even more moving and exquisite than the famous verses, he’d said:

  The bounty that you have given me, strip it not away

  The generosity you have shown me, tear it not away

  My ugly acts that you came to know, forgive them

  I seek intercession from you with you

  And I seek sanctuary in you from you

  I come to you craving your beneficence

  So act toward me with the mercy of which you are worthy

  For I am not worthy of your vengeance.

  She tried to breathe, failed yet again.

  Had—had he just composed that on the spot?

  He had insta-poetry among his powers of enthrallment?

  “Aaand since nothing in this suddenly entertaining and memorable evening will top that, I suggest we eat.”

  Amjad again. And naturally, he had everyone following his lead, clapping a rising wave of approval at the unique verbal duel they’d witnessed between bride and groom.

  Laylah tore her gaze from Rashid, still kneeling before her, bolted down the steps, and completed the evening’s fireworks by running out of her own wedding.

  She wanted to keep on running until she left everything behind, starting with her heart.

  * * *

  Running after Laylah had been out of the question. He’d already pushed too soon and had only driven her away further.

  He’d followed her out of the ballroom, but not to pursue her. He left it to Haidar and Jalal to say whatever they pleased to the guests. He cared nothing about the guests continuing a wedding without the bride and groom when it seemed he was destined to continue his life without Laylah.

  Night had deepened by the time he’d reached the seaside villa where she’d once told him she loved him, and which he’d bought for her, for them. He’d sell it in the morning. He couldn’t stay here without her. And she wouldn’t take it.

  He walked across the veranda of the master bedroom suite to the balustrade, lost in thoughts as tumultuous as the sea. He...

  “I’ve made a decision.”

  His every hair stood on end. Laylah.

  He swung around to her, his heart thudding in disbelief. She was the last person he’d expected to see here, tonight, or ever.

  She’d taken off the wedding gown he’d had made for her, and was in one of those flowing dresses she’d been wearing since they’d come back to the region. It looked as if it were weaved from moonlight. She was made of his every dream and was so...missed, he swayed where he stood with the sheer intensity of longing.

  Her approach continued until she was flush against him.

  His whole being, body and soul, surged at the feel of her. Confusion then hope were as overwhelming as his response. Was she...?

  Her hand curled around his nape, brought his head down to hers. Before she took his lips in the kiss he’d been dying for, she ended all confusion. And hope.

  She said, “Like you used me, took your pleasure when you felt nothing, I’ll use you as cold-bloodedly, for my pleasure.”

  Fifteen

  Her cold words doused the heat of her embrace.

  He jerked back. “You can’t mean that.”

  “I do.” Her lips opened on his scar, what she’d turned into the trigger of his every uncontrollable desire. “You’re fantastic in bed, and you are the man in my life—for now. I’ll take my pleasure from you. As is my right.”

  He tried to hold her off, to hold back from snatching her. “You have every right to everything in me.”

  Her teeth nipped his chin. “I want nothing else from you.”

  “But I do. I want your love, your trust.”

  It was she who pulled away this time. “Sex is all I can give you. Ask for more, and I’ll walk out, and you will see me only from afar until it’s time to end the marriage.”

  It was in her face. She meant it.

  If he said no, he’d lose her now, not later.

  But if he said yes, he might still have a chance. He might still melt her in the inferno of their passion.

  There was no choice really. A beggar had none.

  Exhaling his defeat, he swept her up in his arms.

  As soon as he put her down on the ground by the bed she charged him, climbed him, wrapped herself around him. His senses blazed with her hunger, his heart crumbled now she’d stormed out of it.

  He tried to lower her to the bed, but she twisted in his arms, made him change direction, take her on top.

  He watched her sweep off her loose dress, ablaze with exquisiteness, revealing another of those mind-messing creations he’d chosen for her in such intense pleasure and anticipation, the scarlet emphasizing the magic of her coloring and worshipping the perfections of her lushness. His hands trembled over her soft stomach where the miracle of their passion was growing, delight and dejection almost rupturing his heart.

  Praying she’d reclaim him from the wasteland of her alienation, he opened himself to her possession, let her devour him and dominate him, drowning in her desire as she exposed him to its full measure, even as she withheld the spiritual part he needed most, was withering without. She ignited fever all over him until she claimed the manhood that been created to mesh them together, to give her pleasure.

  Thrusting his hips to her ravenous rhythm, sinking deeper into her hunger, his hands shook all over her, his body and heart in her power. After a lifetime of sufficiency and restraint, his dependence on her was devastating, yet vital.

  Her fingers dug into his buttocks, demanding his full surrender, what he’d learned to give her. His hand convulsed in her hair as his loins exploded, as she drained him, yet only left him crazed for more, for her.

  He tried to snatch her up to his heart, but she took him over again, straddling him, her eyes as mindless as he felt with the need to merge. “I want you, Rashid.”

  �
�Aih, ya hayati kollaha, my whole life, want me.” He helped her position him at her entrance. “Take all of me...”

  She took him in one downward stroke.

  A whiteout of sensation blinded him as her scorching core engulfed him, his home inside her. His only home.

  Senses reignited when he’d forged all the way inside her, felt her shuddering all over him, inside and out, his name a litany of moans on her lips.

  He knew how she felt, frenzied, as he rose with her impaled on him, leaned against the wall, spread her buttocks in his palms.

  “Ride me, ya rohi. Take me and take your pleasure of me.”

  Hands bracing against his shoulders, thighs trembling, she slid up half his shaft when he engulfed one nipple in his mouth. Her hands slipped off his shoulders, had her crashing down on him, lodging him at her womb, her wail of stimulation tearing through both of them. “Rashid...do it...”

  He obeyed, holding her hips and moving her up and down his length to the rhythm of his suckling and confessions. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me? I never dreamed pleasure like this existed...”

  Her fingers dug into his flesh, for breaching the sex-only stipulation. But he had to try to reconnect with her.

  He rolled her around, slid up her moist, silken flesh, stretched her farther around his invasion, fighting to hold back the impending avalanche.

  Throbbing in her depths, he rose above her. “Heaven would be nothing compared to being inside you.” Her teeth sank in his scar, punishing him. His head pitched back on the excruciating pleasure. “Aih, Laylah, punish me and take me back—all of me.”

  At his plunge all the way into her, she shrieked, her inner muscles squeezing his length in a fit of release. He rode the breakers of her orgasm in a fury, surrendering to the pleasure he’d only ever known with her, jetting his essence into her milking depths, swearing his love as swell after swell of agonized completion swept him. “Atawassal elaiki suddegeeni—ahebbek, a’ashagek...I beg you believe me, I love you, worship you. I never loved anyone but you, never lied about this.”

  She went limp beneath him.

  Unreasoning fears crashed on him. He might have been too aggressive, hurt her, the baby...

  He tore himself from her clinging depths. “Laylah...”

  Her eyes were open and empty. Dread overcame him, until she suddenly moved, removing herself from his frantic grip.

  Her voice was as lifeless as her gaze. “I’m only serving my purpose to you. You’re serving yours to me now, so it’s a fair deal. But if you don’t stop saying you love me, I will stop being with you at all.”

  Unable to look her rejection in the eyes anymore, he rose off the bed, needing to seek refuge anywhere but where she was.

  Before he exited the room, he turned to her, announced his submission to her sentence. “I’ll agree to anything you want.”

  * * *

  What Laylah wanted amounted to hell on earth.

  The next weeks set the pattern. She wouldn’t let him into her life in any form. Not during the day. At night, she drew him back into the vortex of need. Even with her emotional coldness, their physical passion blazed out of control, scorching his body in satisfaction, and his soul in sorrow.

  He’d reached the point where he knew. Though he’d take anything he could have of her at the price of his own destruction, he couldn’t.

  He’d soon be forced to end this.

  * * *

  “I’m now forced to make a decision.”

  Amjad sounded serious. For a second. Then he wiggled his eyebrows at Laylah, Haidar and Jalal where they sat side by side in his office. He’d summoned them urgently an hour ago and had refused to say anything until they were all there and sitting before him like an audience.

  Amjad went on, “But then I’m the only one qualified to make one around this region.”

  Haidar, who sat beside Laylah with Jalal on her other side, huffed. “Spare us, Amjad.”

  “How can I? You can’t live without my harassment.” Amjad turned his smirk on her. “But I lied. I’ve long made my decision. It’s in your court now, Laylah.”

  He wanted her to pass her verdict. On Rashid.

  Though he’d made his, if she let her personal turmoil dictate an unfair one, he’d obey it.

  It was up to her to deprive Rashid of becoming king.

  But she’d never been vindictive this way, not even toward her worst enemy. And Rashid wasn’t even... Was—was... Whatever he was, it had been heartache talking when she’d threatened that. Even at the height of her agony, even now as she felt her time with him ticking away, her belief in Rashid as the best king never wavered.

  “Sorry, guys.” She winced at Haidar and Jalal. “But I do believe he’s the best man for the job.”

  “Our Aal Shalaan treasure has spoken.” Amjad’s sardonic smile grew dissecting. “So...is this your revenge? Pushing him onto the throne you believe he manipulated you to get, when you know you’re only shoving him into a pit of thorns?”

  Her lips trembled. “You seem to be quite comfy on yours.”

  “Only because I have Maram on my lap. Rashid no longer has you.” So he knew how things remained between her and Rashid. Everyone probably did. Amjad’s gaze bored into her. “Sitting on that throne without you will be agony without the ecstasy.”

  Her heart twisted. “Rashid is nothing like you. He doesn’t need anyone.”

  Amjad huffed. “Did I ever look like I needed anyone? Turns out I do need one person. Maram. Like Rashid needs you.”

  How she wished that were true.

  She rose before the tears that lurked a word away escaped. “I gave you my opinion. It’s your decision now who to back.”

  * * *

  Amjad had backed Rashid.

  Haidar and Jalal, to Laylah’s surprise yet again, endorsed his decision wholeheartedly.

  Rashid would be king of Azmahar.

  His joloos, sitting on the throne, was in two days.

  This had been what he’d wanted so fiercely. What he deserved. What would he do now that he’d gotten it?

  She was giving herself a nervous breakdown wondering when he walked into the suite in his house where he’d left her that first night, and every night since.

  He never came to her this early. That, along with the intensity in his gaze, had hope suddenly surging inside her.

  She found herself on her feet. He was her man, her soul, and even if he never loved her like she loved him, with all his passion, he must care as much as he was capable of. They would share a tough life, filled with duty and responsibility, but they’d make it if they had each other, and their baby...

  Everything came to a stumbling halt as he caught her seeking hands. And the look in his eyes.

  It was as if he was saying goodbye.

  Then he said worse. “I wish it could have been different, but there’s no use wishing. I can’t...sleep with you anymore.”

  She’d thought her heart had been pulverized before. It hadn’t been, or it had started to heal. He smashed it all over again. This time she knew there would be no putting it back together.

  Agony suddenly poured from her. “You never ‘slept’ with me. The only time I woke up to find you still with me was that first night, and you only stayed to clinch your deal.”

  He said nothing. Just kept looking at her as if he, too, was devastated. It made her insane with pain.

  “I have no doubt you’ll do everything possible to claim the baby when it’s born, but I demand my every right to it documented now, not then.”

  “Laylah...”

  She spoke over him. “As for us, if you won’t ‘sleep’ with me, then I have no use pretending this marriage is real. Our deal is over. I want a divorce. Now.”

  He closed his eyes. Then before her heart could break on one more fractured beat, he turned and strode out.

  Collapsing where she stood, she wept until she felt herself coming apart.

  The moment he had what he wanted, he’d thrown h
er aside. Just like her mother had prophesized.

  But he wouldn’t do it yet. Not before he sat on that throne that meant everything to him.

  Like she meant nothing.

  * * *

  The day of the joloos had come.

  Rashid hadn’t.

  When Maram had said he hadn’t come to the rehearsal ceremony, Laylah thought he’d show up at the last moment. He hadn’t. Nobody knew where he was, or what had happened. According to everyone, he seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

  She was going out of her mind.

  Something terrible must have happened. There was no other explanation for why he’d miss the most important day of his life. And if something had happened to him...

  Another storm of weeping wrung her out as she prayed, again and again and again.

  Let him be okay, let him fulfill his destiny. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t love me. I love him. I always will...

  “Laylah.”

  The deep voice hit her like a blow to the heart.

  Because it wasn’t Rashid’s.

  It was Haidar’s. Jalal was with him.

  She staggered around to them, her eyes and hands rabid as she clung to them, shook them. “Did you find him? Is he okay? Tell me!”

  Haidar scowled down at her. “What do you care? Don’t you hate him now?”

  A huge sob tore out of her. “I—I could never hate him. I will always love him...no matter what...”

  “That isn’t what you’ve made him believe. He believes you hate him so absolutely, he’s self-destructing in despair.”

  Horror mushroomed inside her. “You—you mean...”

  Jalal exhaled. “You need to sit down when we tell you this.”

  And she wailed. “Laa...laa...ya Ullah...laa...”

  “He hasn’t hurt himself.” Haidar’s assertion broke the rising wave of panic. It rose again as he exchanged a look with Jalal as if agreeing on divulging something terrible before pushing her down firmly on the sofa. “Though he swore us to secrecy, at peril of some creative retribution, you need to know everything.”

  As they sat down, her soul seeped down her cheeks with the terror of anticipation.

  “You know why Rashid joined the army,” Jalal started.