As I retrace my steps to return to my own quarters I continue to think about the family I hadn’t given much thought to over the years. They were like names on paper, a genealogical history. It’s as if I’ve only got to learn about them over the past few days. Nijad’s kidnapped wife, Cara, turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to him, and she’s now virtually the country’s finance minister in everything but title, as well as a world-renowned computer hacker, of all things. Jasim’s wife was the one who gave up her chance of fame and fortune to marry my middle brother. Now pregnant again, Janna seems more than happy being a wife and mother, though I know she’s been talking to Zoe about developing a music scholarship programme in schools. Although I’d never known my own mother, it was no secret my father had kept her closeted in the palace, and she never had the chance to live her own life…
“Aiza.” A shout from behind interrupts my thoughts and gets me swinging around.
“Prince Rami.” I feel the first genuine smile of the day come to my face. Whether I’m having doubts or not about my hasty decision to consider accepting his proposal of marriage, his enthusiasm for life is infectious.
It had been embarrassing meeting Rami for the first time after we’d returned to Amahad, remembering how he cradled my naked body so gently on the boat that carried me away from yacht. He’d come to seek me out the next morning, his affable and bubbly personality quickly erasing any awkwardness between us. Ebullient in his compliments, he’d taken my hand and told me he intended to ask Kadar formally for my hand in marriage, a proposition I hadn’t immediately dismissed and, instead, found myself indicating that while I wasn’t going to rush to commit, I might very well accept.
I could do a lot worse than marry a prince of a neighbouring country, the union consolidating the already warm relationship between Amahad and Alair. I’d always known it was my dead father’s wish, and in the past had rebelled against it. There’s no doubt it would make my family happy.
In other ways too, Rami’s perfect for me. I’m a Domme, he’s submissive. He’d spend his life trying to make me happy. What kind I life would I have? Fulfilling his expectations and needs? A sub serves their Dom, while the Dom or Domme has a responsibility to care for their submissive. In a marriage, a twenty-four-seven relationship, he’d be more of a slave. An exhausting union. I’m not sure I could cope.
“I wondered if you’d care to walk in the gardens?” It’s forty degrees celsius out there. Living in England for so long, I’m having to get used to the high temperatures again. But some of the garden is shaded, and it would be pleasant to just sit and listen to the fountains play. Soothing after my emotions have been tugged so many different ways today.
Feeling bold, I reach out my hand and take his. A natural enough thing to do in the UK, but here… Seeing that Rami looks like he’s won the lottery as he wraps his fingers around mine and squeezes, I wonder if I’ve been a bit too forward and am sending a signal I’m not quite ready to send.
The heat doesn’t bother him as much as myself. He stands in the sunlight, a bold silhouette as I hog the shade offered by a palm tree. He advances, puts one foot on the bench and leans forwards with his hands clasped on his knee. His attention caught by a colourful bird flying overhead, one of the parrots that used to live in the harem garden, he half smiles, then brings his attention back to me.
“I don’t believe you’ve been to the royal palace in Alair, have you? I doubt you’d find it wanting.”
I study my hands resting in my lap. Most of my life I’ve tried to leave my royal life behind, and that includes living in palaces. Since I was taken and sold, the continued security sounds more than attractive.
“Have you any residences abroad?” I don’t know very much about him. Perhaps it’s time I learned about my potential husband-to-be.
He puts his leg down, turns around and sits beside me. He smells fresh, as though he’s just showered, his white robes gleaming in the bright light. His thigh, so close yet not quite touching, seems to give off warmth. He’s an attractive man, only three years older than me. “There’s a family mansion in Paris, and of course, one in London, in Mayfair.”
Of course it would be. One of the most expensive places to live. I shudder, not yet able to remember my last night in that city, finding out someone had been keeping tabs on me.
He’s regarding me carefully. “If you didn’t want to make your home in Alair, we could live overseas.”
“Would you still work?”
He shrugs. “Wherever I go, I’ll always be an ambassador for my country, that goes without saying. The oil negotiations will wrap up soon and can be left to the executives of the joint oil company we’re setting up.”
I keep up to date with news from my homeland. AmaOil is the joint merger between Amahad, Alair and Ezirad.
“I’d be okay living here for a while.” I leave the ‘here’ vague. I could mean Amahad or Alair. Rami doesn’t seem to have much purpose in life, and that disturbs me. Suddenly I need to ask, “What do you want to do, Rami?”
He leans forwards, audaciously placing a kiss to my forehead. “Whatever makes you happy.”
What would make me happy? I think of everything I had desired to do. Working with the charity to get sick children the help they needed, dealing with visas and permits to get them out on their own and into the right country for treatment. Knowing what officials I have to bribe. Suddenly it all seems overwhelming. The woman who did that is in the past. Even though I started it, now I don’t want to extend this topic of conversation.
“Kiss me.” The words escape before I can hold them back. I know it’s not a fair thing to ask, aware I’m conducting an experiment. When Rais had his mouth on mine I forgot my name. I want to see whether Rami can stir anything like those feelings.
“With pleasure.” A gentle hand tilts my face as he brings his head down slowly, brushing his lips against mine. I open, giving him permission, and our tongues touch and meet. He inches closer, his arms come around me, my hands clutching at his robes, pulling him nearer. I place my hand on the back of his head, my fingers taking hold of his headdress and ensuring I position his head where I want it. He makes no complaint as I take the lead.
My tongue sweeps into his mouth, tasting the coffee he must have recently drank. I increase the pressure, then slowly come back to myself, first letting go of his headdress, then dropping my hand still holding his robe. Tactfully as I withdraw my permission he immediately retreats, pulls away, then gazes at me with a look of adoration on his face.
I found his touch arousing, different. He let me be me, he didn’t try and impose himself. Unlike Rais. Or, I suddenly remember, like Hunter’s kiss, which happened, it seems, so long ago in London.
“I’m sorry,” I start, genuinely perplexed at my behaviour. At leading him on.
His smile widens. “It confirmed I was right to ask you to marry me.” I notice him widening his legs and know the kiss hadn’t left him unaffected. Instead of making sure I was aware of his arousal like the desert sheikh, he’s being gentlemanly and hiding it from me.
In my head I curse Rais, wishing he’d never touched me. This morning I was content to let the plans my father had made sweep me away, marry the man who’d keep me safe and never challenge me. Now I don’t know what to think.
I stand, fanning my face. It’s no excuse when I tell him, “I’m getting hot, Rami. I need to go in.”
He stands and leans down, speaking into my ear. “I’m feeling a little heated too, if you want the truth.”
My cheeks start to burn, and it’s not because of the sun.
He walks beside me as we enter one of the state rooms, closing the door behind us. There’s air conditioning here, and I relish the cooler temperature. A servant appears, looking slightly out of breath.
“Prince Rami.” He bows. “Emir Kadar has requested your presence in his office.”
Politely apologising for having to leave, Rami sweeps out of the door. As he does, a man ste
ps from the shadows. I jump, my heart leaping in my chest. My hand rises to cover it as with relief I recognise who’s stepped out.
“You make a habit of kissing men?” Hunter asks, seeming more amused than annoyed. Embarrassed he must have noticed my swollen lips earlier, and now caught me with Rami, I don’t deign to answer, and instead point my feet towards the door. He stalks across the room, blocking my progress. “If you’re trying out all your suitors today, there’s one you’ve missed.” With his foot he pushes the door closed, then leans back against it, his arms folded across his chest.
“Who?” I ask shakily.
“That would be me.”
I shake my head. No more kissing today, it’s getting me in trouble. Would I leap at another chance to taste this dominant man? Dressed in jeans that show the delicious outline of his arse, and the undeniable bulge exposing he’s already turned on. A tight-fitting t-shirt does nothing other than showcase his impressive muscles.
He leans forwards and down so his mouth’s at my ear. “Kiss me, Aiza,” he demands.
No. The kiss in London had been an act, a ruse to confuse the people listening to me. It’s not something I thought we’d repeat. What would it be like to mate our mouths for real? Would he let me have control?
“Kiss. Me,” he repeats, making no move to initiate contact himself.
All I need to do is turn my head and…
I turn my head, and as if by accident my mouth meets his. I tell myself I was only going to utter another refusal. Instead, he takes advantage, pushing his lips against mine.
We touch with nothing but our mouths.
“Open,” he instructs, and it must be the reverberation of his words against my face that makes me comply.
Tongues meet and explore, sliding as though in a dance. I fist my hands at my sides, determined not to encourage him not to take this any further. I wish that he would. The feelings he’s bringing to the fore make me want him to bend me over the couch and take me, thrust his cock into me, make me scream….
Tell him what you want.
I can’t.
His lips are soft, his tongue invasive, movements mimicking what he could do with another part of his body. I lean into him, trying to let him know without using words how much he’s turning me one.
He doesn’t press his advantage, pulling away and ending the kiss when he’s explored my mouth to his satisfaction. He rubs his nose against mine. “Kadar wants me in the meeting too, Princess.” He’s smirking, the bastard. He knows full well what he’s done to me. “We’ll have to finish this later.”
Stunned, I say nothing as he departs. When he’s gone, a growl of frustration comes to my throat. Seeing a hapless cushion, I go to pound my fist on it. What the fuck am I doing? Kissing three different men in one morning and getting aroused by them all? Including, as I’ve told Kadar, if not in those precise words to the man himself, that one I have every intention of marrying.
Perhaps it’s the heat I’m not accustomed to that’s making me act out of character. Boy, in their different ways, each of those men can kiss.
Chapter 20
Rami
Kadar’s seated at the head of the conference table in his large office, his brow furrowed. Rais is already there, and so is Nijad. The latter looks up and acknowledges me as I walk in.
“Prince Rami. Thank you for coming promptly. We’re waiting on Jasim and Hunter. Hunter should be on his way, Jasim’s just finishing up on a phone call.”
Drumming his fingers on the table, Kadar looks impatient to begin. I wonder why I’ve been called here. Could be anything—trouble with the pipeline or the drilling site. I purse my lips, hoping I’m not going to hear bad news which could upset me on this near perfect day. That kiss I shared with Aiza leads me to believe she’s closer to agreeing to my marriage proposal than I could have dreamed.
I’d give her the world, whatever she asked for. My only desire to serve her and make her happy for the rest of my life. I have no real ambitions of my own, content to make hers mine. She’ll never want for anything with me.
The door opens and closes. One more seat is filled, and then the sound of another chair being kicked out. Lost in my reverie, I don’t take much notice until I hear Kadar start to speak.
“Hunter. Take a seat, I want to get started.”
His gruff voice alerts me, and I scan those invited. Rais, Nijad, Jasim, Hunter and myself. The others look as mystified as myself. No meetings were scheduled today.
“What’s this about, Kadar?” It’s his youngest brother who sounds anxious.
Now I’m looking more closely I see how tight Kadar’s features are, and how his body is giving off small tremors as he glances around the table and then begins. “I got a phone call earlier. I think you should all hear it.” He presses a button on his phone. Like my father, the king of Alair, all the emir’s official calls must automatically be recorded.
“Emir Kadar.”
“Amir al-Fahri.”
There’s silence while Kadar obviously takes in the name. Then, “I’m listening,” he says in a brusque tone.
“I want your sister.”
A moment of silence, then, “You’re not having her. You’ve already hurt her enough.” You can hear the conclusiveness in Kadar’s voice.
“Pah. She was rescued before my plan was put in place.”
“Leave her alone, Amir. She’s under my protection,” Kadar growls.
“I’m going to offer you a choice, Emir, which I think is fair. Your sister, or I’ll come after your children. Your child, Nijad’s, and Jasim’s. Even the unborn child in your wife’s womb.”
“You dare threaten me?” Kadar’s enraged voice thunders through the small speakers.
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. An expression of intent, if you like.”
We all exchange glances, and Nijad and Jasim start speaking, causing Kadar to pause the call.
“It’s too personal.” Hunter’s looking surprised. “Amir al-Fahri is a known terrorist. He kills indiscriminately just to score points. The USA, the UK, Europe. Hell, even Africa hasn’t escaped. Or he’ll swoop in and direct a hit on a person of importance. He doesn’t warn in advance, or if he does it’s in vague terms to cause the most worry. He’s not known for making personal threats or bargains.”
Kadar’s nodding. “Listen. It will become clear.” He starts the recording playing again.
“What do you want with the Kassis family, Amir?”
“Revenge.”
“I don’t understand why.”
There’s a pause before the terrorist answers. “Because of my son. He died on Amahadian soil, and I suspect you were behind it.”
“I don’t recall…”
“Then let me refresh your memory.” Amir’s voice is raised now. “His helicopter crashed, the bodies were buried by your tribespeople and were never found. I think you’ll remember the accident, as you call it, in the southern desert.”
“I recall an accident which claimed four lives. The helicopter was assumed to be flying too low. Or maybe flew into a sandstorm. Burying bodies fast is the way of our tribes. They would have thought they were paying respects, rather than leaving bodies to rot under the sun or be eaten by vultures. As far as I know, the identities of the men in the helicopter were never discovered. All we know is that four people were buried.”
“That day my son didn’t return. Neither did the woman he was running around with.”
“Conjecture at best.”
“Oh, no, Kadar. It’s enough evidence for me. I’ve stated my terms. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. The debt must be repaid. I want Aiza in revenge for my son.”
“That is not going to happen.”
“Then you lock your palace up tight. In the end it won’t matter what you do, I’ll find a way in. I’ll hit you when you least expect it. A day from now, a week, a month. Next year. I won’t stop until I’ve taken all the next generation. Is a sister you barely know worth losing all that?”
>
Kadar presses the button a final time. “I’m afraid I lost it at that point. Nothing further productive came out of the conversation.”
“What do we know about al-Fahri’s missile capability?” Nijad looks across at Hunter.
Hunter notes something down. “I’ll have to check. But yes, that is a possibility he’d be able to get his hands on something. So far it’s been suicide bombers or other types of attacks. He’s not used missiles to date. To our knowledge, that is.”
“Security at the palace is tight.” Jasim nods at Nijad. “If he thinks he can get in to take out the children, he’d be wrong. I think you might right. He must know how well protected we are here, it might be something big.”
This is out of my league. Because oil was found as a result of the Amahadian survey, coincidentally in a field running under Alair, the terrorist has always focused on Kadar’s country, the aim to unbalance the world economy, not wanting more oil to come onto the market. As Amahad has led the exploration, and the pipeline runs across their land, Alair has been kept out of his sights. However, my future wife appears to be right in them.
“I’ll marry Aiza immediately. Take her to Alair. Hell, take her anywhere to keep her safe and out of his clutches.”
“No.” Two voices growl in unison, making me look up sharply. Rais and Hunter.
“The threat will still be there.” Hunter’s face looks tight as he explains. “Amir al-Fahri doesn’t give warnings lightly. It’s a promise of action, not intimidation. We all need to be prepared.” All eyes are on him, we all know he’s more than a Grade A operative and assume he works in intelligence. “He doesn’t always succeed, and we’ve been able to foil some plots. If he says he’s going to attack, you better start getting ready.”
Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6) Page 17
