“What takes your fancy?” asks the man by my side.
I turn around and look over to the unclaimed subs, and a hand comes under my chin, moving my head back so I’m facing him.
“I meant you and me. And I ain’t no sub, baby.”
My face creases in confusion. “Neither am I, Hunter. You know that.”
He’s shaking his head as if he knows nothing of the sort, then his eyes soften. “Come.”
With his hand to the small of my back, he leads me over to a roped-off area and points to a comfortable couch. He scans the room behind him, then waves his hand. A beautiful sub in a baby doll dress comes over and folds to her knees, head bowed, hands palms up. A perfect and practiced pose.
“Diamond,” he says softly, “could you bring us some drinks, please? Master Ralph will know what we want. And can you tell him neither of us will be playing tonight?”
“Yes, sir.” With that the sub gracefully gets to her feet and goes off to perform her task.
I’m bristling. As Hunter sits beside me, I can’t keep quiet. “That was a bit presumptuous. I haven’t made that decision.”
“I decided for you.”
“What gives you that right?” My cheeks are burning.
He sighs. “If you’re not playing with me, I can’t very well let you go off with anyone else.” As I raise my eyebrow he continues. “There’s someone spying on you, Princess. Unless you can think of any names, we’ve no idea who he, she, or they could be.” He lifts his hand and circles it, drawing my attention back to the room behind. “I can’t trust anyone, even in this club.”
I don’t believe him. “The people here will all have been vetted. I don’t see there’s any risk.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to say that, Aiza. You’ve clearly not got any sense of self-preservation. Fuck, you’ve been jetting all over the world, coming to the UK, without any regard for your safety.” As I go to speak he puts a finger to my mouth. “No, Aiza. Let me finish. You’re a princess of Amahad. The princess.”
“My sisters-in-law are also princesses,” I correct him.
“But not by birth. If you were taken, kidnapped…” Hunter doesn’t need to complete his sentence. Much as they seem like strangers to me, I know my brothers would do anything to get me back. Start a war, damage their new oil industry.
As Diamond returns carrying a tray and puts two glasses of amber liquid in front of us, I think about what he’s said. Perhaps he does have a point. When I’d come to England I thought I’d been careful and that no one knew who or where I was. I’d been wrong. While I doubt anyone in this exclusive club would be my enemy, perhaps I should start looking over my shoulder a little bit more.
Reaching for the glass, I notice it’s a double. It’s good stuff, and there’s a slight burn to my throat as I swallow it down.
Hunter lets out a breath and relaxes seeing I’ve given in. I won’t be playing tonight, as there’s no way in hell I’ll be playing with him. Not two Dominants together. He picks up his own glass and agitates it, making the ice cubes which he prefers tinkle. “So, Aiza. Why a Domme?”
“For the same reasons you’re a Dom, I expect.” It seems an odd question. I go on to explain. “All my life I’ve been controlled, as you know, Hunter. I was sent to the right schools. I lived away from Amahad, but all the time my father, and after his death my older brother, Kadar, have been pulling the strings.” I gaze at the area he’s brought me too. It’s quieter here than in the middle of the club, though the sounds of the music and people having fun still penetrate. “I could never escape who I am, and the restrictions that imposed on me. I could only rebel internally.”
As I go quiet, he prompts, “And you knew you were a Domme…?”
I raise my shoulders. “When I first started playing.” I look down at my drink, hearing the sounds from the play area behind me, the snap of a whip, the groans, the screams, even able to make out floggers hitting their target in time to the music. It makes me smile. “You should know what it’s like. How fulfilling it can be when a sub gives over their control. When I get them out of their heads and into subspace, it does something to me. It’s something I’ve done, have been responsible for. The giddy feeling of headspace… I’ve never found that anywhere else in my life.” I huff. “You see me as a sub, Hunter, because that’s what everyone thinks I ought to be. Someone weak who needs to be directed. You’re wrong. It’s because I have little power in the rest of my life, that I take it here.”
“But you do, don’t you? That’s why you came to the UK. You took back control over your own life.”
“And look where that’s got me.” I sip the splendid single malt again. “My rebellion has ended with me being called back to my homeland.” There’s a hitch to my voice as I tell him my fears. “And this time I’m frightened I won’t be able to escape.”
Hunter raises his hand and cups my chin, turning me to face him. He waits until my eyes meet his, then, “Princess, I won’t let that happen to you. I promise. I’ll be there with you as your close protection officer, and if that means protecting you from your family, that’s what I’ll do.” There’s a pause before he adds, “And I’ll be there as your friend.”
I give a small nod to satisfy him, while thinking he doesn’t understand. Kadar’s got absolute power in Amahad, and if he’s got other plans for me, Hunter will be unable to stop him carrying them out.
Chapter 6
Rais
“Your Excellency.” I bow my head as I greet the emir.
Kadar waves his hand as he takes off his headdress and throws it down on a chair. “No formality, Rais. I get enough of that crap. Here, we’re just two old friends.” He sits and waves to the refreshment on the table. As I nod he pours two glasses of fruit juice. He pushes one across his desk, and I take the seat in front of it. “What can I do for you?”
“Aiza.”
He sighs. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Stupid girl is all I can think about.” He consults his expensive Rolex. “Shouldn’t be long before the plane lands. I’ll breathe easier once she’s on Amahadian soil.”
So will I. I’d had to wait until my rage was controllable before coming to see Kadar when I’d heard how she’d exposed herself to danger. Luckily I’m able to control my expressions, which is why he probably didn’t see my anger in yesterday’s meeting. “She needs a strong hand.”
Kadar barks a laugh. “You’ll get no disagreement from me. We’ve been too lax with her, have clearly allowed her far too much freedom.”
I keep quiet. In my view they’d given her none at all. Kadar and his brothers, as his father before them, had been quite content to keep Aiza contained in the protected compound in Switzerland. I’m not surprised she escaped, and admire her for the way she evaded exposure for as long as she had. I only wish she’d been more sensible about it, remembered she was royalty, and had made sure she had proper protection. I frown, realising if she’d asked for help Kadar might have forced her back to Switzerland. Or home, to Amahad. No, in reality, she hasn’t had much freedom at all.
“Not that I don’t always enjoy your company, Rais, but why this meeting?”
Sitting forwards, I place my palms flat on his desk, determined just to come out and say what I’m thinking. I’d have kept quiet, spoken to her first, but with that bugger Rami making a play, I’ve been forced to accelerate my game. “I won’t beat around the bush, Kadar. I’d be happy to take responsibility for Aiza. She needs a strong man and a firm hand.”
“You?” Kadar sits back in his chair, his eyes wide, staring at me for a few seconds as he digests my words. Then, with a shake of his head he states, “I didn’t see that coming, Sheikh.” His hand wipes over his brow before smoothing his short beard. “While I’m grateful for the offer, and do see some merit in it, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask.” Annoyed that he thinks of it as little more than a tiresome duty, I continue to plead my case. “Aiza’s in danger, and you can depend o
n me to protect her.”
“Have I misunderstood you, Rais? I thought you were suggesting something more.” He chuckles at what he thinks is his mistake.
“You weren’t mistaken.” I inhale then let it out in a way there can be no misapprehension. “I would like to take Aiza for my wife.” I can’t put it any plainer than that.
He looks stunned. “Rais, my old friend. You know what esteem I hold you in. I see the merit of your suggestion, although I do have some objections. Your age for a start.”
I’m not surprised he thinks I’m older, the way I carry myself and act. I have to maintain a certain persona to lead the other desert sheikhs. I put him right and draw a valid comparison. “I’m only ten years older, there’s a similar gap between yourself and your wife, Emira Zoe, I believe?”
His eyes widen. “Fuck. I’d forgotten that. You married young, didn’t you?”
I raise my chin. Yes, I had an arranged marriage to a girl from another tribe when I was sixteen. No emotion involved, and we did what we had to. She got pregnant fast and died giving birth to a boy who hadn’t survived. I’d been devastated. What man wouldn’t be? Having done my duty once, I evaded ensuing pressure to take another woman as my wife, and two years later, when I inherited the leadership of my tribe on the death of my father, no one could persuade me to do anything I didn’t want to again. I’d taken my nephew under my wing, and have been grooming him to be my heir.
My prowess in battle and my leadership skills came to the fore early, and I earned my place as the sheikh speaking for all the ten desert tribes. I’m not surprised Kadar forgot the number of years that I’ve walked this earth. I’d aged early. I had to.
“I’m thirty-four, Kadar. Young enough to take Aiza as my wife, and old enough to be the man that she needs.”
He laughs again. “I don’t think anyone can control her, Rais. And I’m not sure I’d wish her on any man. Even my enemy. And particularly not someone I call a friend.”
Imperceptibly, I stiffen. Kadar’s brothers might be able to admonish him, but though I hold a respected position in Amahad, any friendship between myself and the emir has boundaries, and I need to be careful not to cross them. I’ve known the princess all of her life, and she has intrigued me since she grew into a woman. It’s true since then I’ve not met her often, only on her rare visits home, recently to attend the weddings of her brothers. It annoys me that he’s talking about her as though she’s a problem to be resolved, a dilemma to be passed onto someone else to deal with. She’s his sister for fucks sake.
There’s not a lot that gets past the emir. He looks at me sharply. “You think I’m wrong, don’t you?” Both hands go up and his fingers rake across his short hair. “I don’t know her, Rais, and that’s the problem. That’s in part due to her age. When she was born, my brothers and I were already learning to be men. Being groomed for our future roles.” His brow furrows, and I suspect he’s remembering his harsh father and exactly what that exacting training had involved. “Aiza was brought up by a nanny. Even when she was here our paths rarely crossed. When my father died I tried to get her to come home, but she said she was happy where she was.” Now a rueful grin appears. “Or where I thought she was. And as you witnessed yourself, Rami has made his case for her.”
“Rami couldn’t handle her.” He’s a nice enough man, well-educated, intelligent, affable. He could probably give a good account of himself if challenged, however his skills lie in diplomacy. For such a man to be married to such a strong-willed woman? I shake my head as I dismiss it.
“He wants her,” Kadar says conversationally. “There would be merits in the union.”
“Aiza wouldn’t be happy.” I’m certain of that.
He starts as if he hadn’t looked at it that way before. That, to my mind, is the problem. Brought up by the late Emir Rushdi, happiness was not something to be taken into account. While Kadar has tried to shake off the shackles of his upbringing, groomed as he was to follow in his father’s autocratic footsteps, there are times he settles back into the old ways.
I play my trump card. “Zoe seems fond of Aiza.”
Another sharp look. Then he chuckles. “You’re a bastard, Rais. You know my wife would have my balls if I didn’t put Aiza’s wants and wishes first. Trust you to go straight to the heart of the matter.” He thinks as he finishes his drink. “If you can persuade Aiza, I’ll not stand in your way. There’d be worse men to have as a brother-in-law.” He consults his watch again and then stands. “We’re running out of time. She should be landing shortly. You want to come to the airfield to meet the plane? Give Aiza a welcome?”
If that puts me ahead of my rival, nothing will stop me. Oh, I’ll play dirty to get what I want. Impatient now to see her again, I wait, my fingers drumming against my thighs as Kadar puts on his ghutra, fastening it in place with his golden egal of office. Once his headdress is in place, I follow him out of the room and through the winding corridors of the palace.
I take my place alongside him in the back of the armoured limousine that’s waiting to take us to meet Aiza. As the transport of the emir warrants, armed outriders surround the car, with black SUVs in front and behind, each carrying armed guards, all ready to lay down their lives for their emir. I, myself, am equipped with weapons and have the same intention. Anywhere Emir Kadar goes, he must be fully protected.
We drive away from the palace, through the modern business district, a wide boulevard lined with palm trees, and then out through the more meagre housing. I note, with approval, some of the shacks have been demolished, and new housing estates going up instead, part of the modernization that Kadar has brought to the country.
The emir’s been silent, lost in his own thoughts. Now he speaks, and the snap in his voice indicates he’s come to a decision. “Sheikh Rais. My desire is to see Aiza married. Nevertheless, it must be her choice. Pursue her if you wish. I do need to warn you, I will, of course, be having the same conversation with Prince Rami.”
That, for now, is the probably the best I can hope for. My mouth purses as I begin to put my plans together. I hadn’t been joking when I said Aiza needed a strong man beside her. I’m going to prove to her that should be me. I need a strong woman to be my wife.
An explosion, and the limousine spins sideways. Dust swirls around us as we slide off the road, the vehicle now diagonal and at a stop on the hard shoulder. I’ve thrown myself automatically over my emir, but peer up to look out of the window, appreciating that the driver’s quick thinking had expertly avoided the hole in the road that’s appeared in front of us. Without pause he now puts the car into reverse and turns it around.
“Aiza.” The word escapes from my lips.
Kadar’s voice sounds muffled, making me realise I’m still covering him. “She’ll be alright. The airport’s well protected. They can’t get her there. No, this must have been an attack on me.”
Something in my gut tells me he’s wrong. “Stop the car,” I shout to the driver, then tell the emir, “Kadar, get back to the palace.” I’m already reaching for the door handle as I speak, waving to a guard whose SUV wasn’t so lucky and is undrivable. He comes running and only needs a brief instruction to take my place.
“What are you doing, Rais?” Kadar tries to sit up, the soldier pushes him back down.
“Going to the airport,” I tell him, my eyes taking in the scene as I work out my plan. It could be an attack on the emir, or it could be a diversion to stop us from getting to the plane. With Aiza’s safety at stake, I’m not taking any chances.
“Rais…”
“I’ll see you later, Kadar.”
The limousine’s already moving as I slam shut the door. Running to one of the outriders, I shout at him. “Aetani dirajat nariat alkhasi bik.” I’m used to it only taking one look at my face before any man does what I ask, so it doesn’t surprise me when he immediately leaps off his motorbike, and I strip off my robes, revealing the jeans and t-shirt I’m wearing underneath. Leaving them and my headdress by the
side of the road, I’m on the bike and away before anyone can stop me.
Aiza. I could be wrong. This might be someone trying to kill the emir. I can’t discount this feeling in my gut though. It seems too much like coincidence.
Twisting the throttle, I push the bike to its limits, feeling my stomach drop as a boom sounds, followed quickly by a billowing cloud of smoke rising in the air ahead of me. The airport terminal. I try to go faster, the front wheel coming off the ground. Reluctantly I ease off my right hand, my aim to get to her, not kill myself.
A few more minutes and I’m laying the bike down. Giving no thought to my own safety, I run towards the blazing terminal. One of my tribal members who’s joined the palace guard is outside helping with an evacuation. I grab his arm. “The royal jet?”
He nods at his radio. “Been diverted to runway two. They’ll have to hold it there until we’re clear here. First thing we need to do is get everybody out.”
Loud reports of gunfire start.
Ignoring the screams of the people inside, I rush back to the bike. “Help me,” I yell at the guard. It’s quicker with two people to pick up the heavy BMW. Once it’s upright I’m back on and again revving the throttle, riding down the runway and crossing the grass. An eerie silence has now descended, broken only by the thwacking sound of a helicopter’s rotors as it rises up into the air, shortly followed by a second.
With dire thoughts in my mind I race to the second runway and head for the royal jet, quickly assessing the people lying injured or dead, seeing no sign of the woman I’m looking for. I do see Hunter, holding his hand to his arm and staring up into the sky.
It’s him I make a beeline for, knowing at once from the expression on his face that Aiza’s been taken away in one of the helicopters. “What the fuck happened? You were supposed to fucking protect her!” I scream into his face. Some fuck-up of a bodyguard he turned out to be.
Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6) Page 6
