by Maisey Yates
Intimacy meant reaching deep. It meant sharing and changing. Turning over things that were wrong and discovering how they could be fixed. Facing problems head-on.
That had never gone well for her in the past. The potential cost felt too great.
For that reason, she hadn’t wanted that sort of intimacy with the man she’d once called her husband.
She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted it now. Because that intimacy was the reason she was avoiding Tarek’s bed in a fit of pique. His rough, unpracticed movements, that it was all for her, only for her, had stripped a layer of skin from her body, left her raw and exposed. And then, after all that, he had asked her to leave. When she had wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his waist and curl up beside him, bury her face in the curve of his neck. Lie with him until her breathing matched his, until they both drifted off to sleep.
He had denied her that.
She was still angry. Still angry, even knowing she had to get into a limousine with him and go down into the capital city for him to make a speech at a monument of war to commemorate a day in the nation’s history. It was, in her understanding, a celebration of the founding of the country. The unification of the primary tribes into one sovereign nation. And of course Tarek would need to be there, again speaking of unity, and of the new future for Tahar.
And she, as the new sheikha, had to accompany him and stand just behind him, staring at him adoringly while she really wanted to eviscerate him. Possibly with her teeth. All right, she was being both dramatic and bloodthirsty.
She walked through the throne room of the palace to the antechamber that led outside. She paused, adjusting the scarf she had wound over her hair and loosely around her neck. Then she walked outside, putting on a pair of large sunglasses to protect her from the glare, and from Tarek’s gaze.
He was already standing there, in front of the limousine. He was wearing a dark suit jacket and perfectly cut trousers, his hands stuffed into the pockets. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, and not even the superbly cut pants could disguise the perfection that was the musculature of his thighs. She thought it was funny how quickly he had taken to wearing European-style suits. He seemed to like them. Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to bother to have anything else tailored. That could be it. Nothing off the rack was going to fit him. He was too tall, too broad.
She was obsessed with his body. Which wouldn’t be so much of an issue if she wasn’t also obsessed with the man. A man who was nearly impossible to reach.
“Good morning,” she said, opting for the first thrust so that it was his job to parry.
He turned and her stomach lurched. She chose to imagine him still as the great hairy beast-man she had initially encountered in the throne room. But considering that, she sometimes forgot just how beautiful he was. It was easy to focus only on the raw magnetism and forget that he was objectively the most handsome man she had ever seen.
“You are speaking to me, Olivia,” he said, his eyes flicking over her.
She wondered if she should have worn a dress. Or perhaps something more traditionally Tahari. She thought perhaps her cream-colored harem pants, gold blouse tucked into the high waist and long, loose linen jacket might not be the appropriate attire. If he noticed, he didn’t say.
“You do not have to cover your hair,” he said, jerking open the door to the limousine.
“I know. Wind.” She breezed past him and got into the car, sliding to the other side and buckling herself with a resolute click.
And Tarek insulation, but he didn’t need to know that. For that same reason, she kept her sunglasses in place.
“We will be staying in the city tonight,” he said, joining her in the limo, closing the door behind him.
The car began to move away from the palace as she processed this piece of information.
“I didn’t bring anything.”
“It was taken care of for you.”
Of course it was.
“You are angry with me,” he continued. “You haven’t spoken to me in two days.”
“Very good, Tarek. Next we’ll move on to the more advanced human emotions.”
“I explained to you why I didn’t want you in my room.”
“I don’t believe you,” she bit out. Her words lingered in the air, bitter, desperate to her ears.
“You want to stay with me?”
“Yes. I do.”
The admission was difficult, which she despised. Exposing all of her neediness, all of the desire in her that had gone unmet for so many years. Because of herself. Because she had never asked for more. Because she had been terrified of more. She still was. But she also felt as if she had been breathing stale air for too long, and Tarek was like the very wind she’d claimed to be trying to protect her hair from. A rush of something fresh, necessary, that she could not control or harness. But it wasn’t her hair she was concerned for.
It was her heart. That caged, protected creature that she had locked behind golden bars years ago. Because she had been so tired of feeling the hurt every time her parents missed something special of hers because they needed to be with Emily. Because what kind of monster did it make her if she wanted the attention stolen from her sick sister and directed at her? It was why she had been able to accept Marcus’s love for what it was. Why she had been able to love him in return while knowing almost nothing about him, and sharing almost nothing about herself.
She didn’t like any of these revelations. Not in the least. Any more than she liked the revelation that Tarek had disrespected the cage. Had stuck his hands right between the bars and grabbed hold of the thing she’d been coddling the most.
Bastard.
He didn’t even know. Hadn’t even been aiming for her affected organ, she knew. She supposed that was the danger of sleeping with virgins. They were so honest. And everything they gave was all for you.
As a woman who had never had anything that was just for her, she’d been unprepared for what it would do to her.
Marrying a stranger, a feral stranger, who lived across the world, who had completely different customs and practices than she did, surely should have been a recipe for continuing on in the manner she had become accustomed to. Surely he was the last person on earth who should have ever been able to reach her.
She was wretched indeed. And irritated that she was having these realizations while sitting next to him in a car. It wasn’t as if she could jump out of the moving vehicle to escape him.
On second thought, at the moment it sounded preferable to continuing to be enclosed in this tiny space with him.
Alas, she wasn’t going to take a chance on a tuck and roll at this moment.
Which meant she simply had to endure.
The limousine wound down a narrow street that widened into a highway, leading them from the outskirts of the city down into its heart. It was much more urban than Alansund, and while she had known that, seeing it was an entirely different matter. Living with Tarek as she did, in a palace that was a relic from another time, it was easy to forget that the country itself was a major world power. A capital of finance and technology.
They moved down deeper into the central business district, the buildings rising around them like sharp, slate-gray waves, threatening to close in on them. She had been raised in New York, upstate, but also partly in Manhattan. She was accustomed to cities. And yet, right now this felt a more foreign landscape than the barren desert that provided her view out her bedchamber at the palace.
It was strange how quickly that place had become her home. Her world.
Strange how quickly Tarek had managed to weave himself around her existence.
The entire car ride was silent. Filled with tension, her head filling with things she would never speak. Finally, they arrived at the memorial statue of a man riding a horse, symbo
lizing the nation’s strength. This was where his speech would be held. Already a crowd had assembled, and security detail was on hand.
The bodyguards approached the car, opening the doors for them and flanking them both as they made their way to the podium that was prepared for Tarek’s speech. She removed her sunglasses as they walked to the front, taking her position at his right shoulder, a pace behind him. She knew this pose. The pose of any royal spouse or politician’s wife. She had assumed it many times for Marcus.
But it had felt different.
Because now, watching Tarek speak, words she didn’t readily understand due to her poor command of the language, she felt a burst of pride unlike anything she ever experienced before. This wasn’t easy for him. This was not his forte. He was a man who had barely spoken to people for the past fifteen years, much less spoken in front of a crowd of them. And yet he was doing it. Because he loved this country, because he cared for it.
He was changing everything about his life, everything about himself, to become the leader that Tahar needed.
Life was always a challenge, even when you were doing all that you had been created for. All that you had been made for.
But how much more challenging must it be to perform tasks you had never imagined being asked to do?
She watched his every dynamic action until he was finished, until thunderous applause filled the air around them. And then, only then, did she look at the faces of those in the crowd. And she saw their hope. Saw their admiration.
Her heart fluttered against its cage.
After that, she was caught up again in the rush of security detail, ushering them back to the limousine. When they were safely inside, Tarek let out a breath she imagined he had been holding for the past twenty minutes.
“You did well,” she said, forgetting her annoyance for a moment.
“Now we must go to a hotel a few blocks downtown. It has something to do with tradition. Some sort of honor for the owner. It is the oldest hotel of its kind in the city. Of course, it has been greatly modernized, I have been assured. Not that I much mind if something isn’t modern. I’m used to caves after all.”
“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” She looked down. “Did you secure us separate rooms? Or did you give consideration to the gossip that might stir up?” she asked, breaking their momentary truce.
“We have been given the penthouse suite. I imagine that will give us adequate space.”
“I don’t know. I hear you’re very resourceful. Or did you pack your sword?”
“Do not test me, Olivia. I am aware that I have given you the impression that I’m some sort of house cat. Because you have caught me attempting to become domesticated. But I assure you, I am more tiger than tabby. Do not make me demonstrate it.”
“You show rather more restraint than a tiger. You allowed me to spend two days ignoring you, and you never once challenged me.”
She suddenly found herself pressed against the door, Tarek’s hands on either side of her, his body against hers. “Do not think you can manipulate me. You have seen me at a disadvantage, acclimating to a position that I was not created for. But I am not to be toyed with. I am not to be teased. I am not your aristocratic husband. Never forget you cannot play the same games with me.”
“No worries. I am in no danger of forgetting that you aren’t Marcus.” She would let him believe whatever he wanted to about that statement.
“See that you don’t,” he bit out.
The limousine pulled up to the front of the grand stone building. It reminded her more of places she had seen in Europe than she had expected it to.
“A holdover from our brush with colonialism, I believe,” he said.
“I wondered,” she said, because she had. And architecture was a welcome subject change. Really, anything was a welcome subject change at this point. Her irritation with him was betraying too much, not only to him, but to herself. She didn’t want to analyze her feelings as deeply as her anger was commanding.
Tarek didn’t wait for their driver. He opened the door to the vehicle, rounding the back of it and holding hers open, as well. She exited, and he looped his arm around hers, taking hold of her and leading her into the building.
There was little evidence of modernization in the lobby. Golden revolving doors led into a grand marble showcase. Crystal chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling, curved staircases flanking either side of the room.
Every member of staff in the room stood at attention, but none approached. It was the owner who made his way through the center of the room, approaching them with a wide smile on his face and his hand outstretched. Tarek shook it, and Olivia did the same.
“Welcome, Sheikh Tarek. Sheikha.” He swept his hand wide, indicating their surroundings. “We are most pleased you have joined us. As you may know, this hotel has housed every member of the royal family since it was built. We have readied our finest room. This is doubly special, as we are not only celebrating a new leader, but a new marriage.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said, certain she didn’t sound very convincing at all.
“The suite is on the top floor,” the man continued, handing Tarek a key card. “Would you like us to show you there, or will you make your own way?”
“I think we can make our own way,” Tarek said. She wondered if playing at civility was starting to chafe.
She knew it was for her. She couldn’t stand there smiling at him as though their interaction in the car hadn’t happened. As though the past few days hadn’t happened.
“We will have your luggage sent up directly, after you’ve had a moment to settle in.”
“Appreciated,” Tarek said.
He sounded less than appreciative. But at least he had tried. She was just standing beside him, silent, still. She may as well have been a pillar of salt. But she was a pillar of salt who could walk. She followed Tarek to the elevator bank and stepped into the lift with him, her breath freezing in her chest as the doors slid closed behind them. Here she was again, back in an enclosed space with the man who was driving her crazy.
This was ridiculous. She didn’t get crazy over men. She didn’t get crazy over anything.
Except Tarek. She had already admitted that everything about him was different. That he was reaching places she’d thought unreachable. There was no point playing as if she was confused now.
They completed the elevator ride in silence, and Olivia wondered what had happened to all of her social graces. She’d had them at one point, she was certain. In another life she had been a queen, confident both in her position, and in how to deal with her marriage.
Because you wanted nothing from it. But you need to matter to him. And you want to understand him.
She blew out a harsh breath, singularly frustrated with herself. She didn’t want deep personal insight. Not now, possibly not ever. But then, reflecting on the past wasn’t really very helpful, either. Particularly, because when she thought of the past, she felt as though she was pondering a different woman. She barely recognized that woman. In many ways, she barely recognized the woman she’d been when she’d walked into the throne room to tell Tarek she thought they should marry.
Because her reasons had been different then. They had had nothing to do with Tarek and everything to do with herself. With her desperation to find a place in life. To keep herself surrounded by enough things, enough people to feel as if she wasn’t alone. To cover up the yawning pit of need that was in the center of her chest.
Suddenly, Tarek mattered. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about not being alone. Though she was tired of that, too. Because she realized that she’d been alone for a very long time. Even when surrounded by people. Even when sleeping next to the first man she had married.
She watched her current husband, the only one who mattered, walk out of the elevator and up to the only door
in the narrow hallway. He used the key card in the lock, the light turning green instantly.
“You know how to use one of those?”
He raised a brow. “It’s fairly self-explanatory.”
“Well, I’m having a hard time figuring out what is self-explanatory for you and what isn’t. The female body, obviously, was fairly self-explanatory. Female feelings, on the other hand...”
He held up the key card, the strip facing her. “I dare say this is a much more simple device than your inner workings. Also, if I could swipe this across your forehead and gain access to your secrets, I would.”
“Are you saying women are complicated?”
“I am simply saying I do wonder sometimes if life is better lived alone. And if sex is perhaps not worth the trouble it causes.”
“One time and you’re an expert in the consequences of sex?”
“I am living them,” he said, his tone telegraphing his foul mood. Well, she was just as foul. Fouler even.
“If it was just sex it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Is it not just sex?”
She shook her head. “No. Don’t you know that?”
“How would I know? I don’t know what only sex is supposed to feel like.” He pushed the door open and revealed an opulent suite, beautifully appointed.
It was indeed the epitome of modern luxury. But as she had spent most of her life steeped in modern luxury, there was a limit to how impressed she could be. Particularly when she had other matters on her mind.
“Are you supposed to feel as though your internal organs were ripped out through your chest and displayed for all the world? Are you supposed to feel like you can’t breathe whenever you remember what it was to be skin to skin with another person? Are you supposed to ache down to your very bones? If so, then I suppose I have an all right understanding of what it means to engage in sex.”
