by Olivia Gates
“Which is as it should be,” Shehab said, winking at her. “In another age, we would have made him roam the desert in search of mythical treasures, then return to jump through hoops of fire for the privilege of your hand.”
Mohab twisted his lips at her brothers. “Braving the desert unarmed and on foot, and then ending my trek by battling hungry hyenas over a fire pit would have been preferable to sitting across this ridiculously wide table from Jala throughout our so-called engagement party.” He swept the three men a challenging look. “You should test me. The honor and privilege of her hand demands every proof that I actually deserve it. So prepare your trials. The more impossible, the better.”
And he meant every word. He’d do anything for Jala. For this wasn’t a matter of wanting to get her out of his system anymore. This was about winning her. Properly this time. And forever. He finally faced what he’d avoided acknowledging for years: what she was to him. This woman he’d wanted from the first moment, who he had pined for through the years of alienation, who he had watched over and learned from.
He’d never stopped loving her. And with everything she’d done and still did, every breath she took, she kept proving to him that he’d always been destined to love her.
He loved her now more than he ever had or even believed possible.
Feeling her eyes on him after his impassioned pledge, he turned the force of his conviction on her, told her, wordlessly, but with everything in him, what he felt.
Meeting her eyes, he felt her spirit touch his, as it had from the very beginning. Now, even through the barrier she’d erected between them since that fateful night, it jolted through him again, how kindred it felt, how deep her hold over him was, how absolute. And he no longer wanted to sever it. He only wanted to cherish and revel in it. He only wanted to convince her to let him in again, to let him love her with everything he had, as he’d failed to in the past.
But something in her eyes sent his heart hammering. That vulnerability. And something else. Pain. Bottomless pain.
It disturbed him so much it had him on his feet, just as Farooq stood to vacate his place for her.
Heart ramming his rib cage, he held her seat as she sat, trying to catch her gaze again, to confirm what he’d seen. But there was nothing but a bright, neutral smile as she murmured thanks and looked away as her brothers continued poking and prodding him.
“No surprises here, Mission Impossible Man,” Shehab said. “Wrestling impossible odds and facing lethal dangers must be easier for you than sitting still through a social function.”
Kamal sighed. “Wait till you’re king. You’ll suffer through those till you want to cause mayhem to escape them.”
Taking Jala’s place between his cousins, Farooq chimed in, “Hmm, I can make use of your willingness to do anything for Jala. I have some chronic...problems I need taken care of.”
Reaching for the hand Jala rested on the table, he enveloped it, a thrill going through him when she relinquished it to him. “Make me a list and consider them resolved.”
Farooq grinned at Jala. “I’m sold. I like your fiancé. It’s very handy to have a cleanup expert in the family.”
“How about you ask him for a thousand red camels in the bargain?” Carmen ribbed her husband.
Everyone laughed at Carmen’s allusion to one of the most famous folklore stories in the region, the immortal love story of Antarah and Ablah. Antarah, a slave who won his freedom through heroic feats, asked for his beloved’s hand, only for her father to get rid of his nuisance by sending Antarah on an impossible mission to acquire rare camels from far-flung enemy territory, alone, unarmed and having nothing to bargain with. Antarah, of course, accomplished all this, and in the end won his Ablah.
If only everyone knew his mission impossible—winning back what he’d lost of Jala’s heart and then reaching the parts he’d never been able to touch—was far harder than any overwhelming odds they could throw at him.
After an interval of gaiety as they exchanged anecdotes and tales from the past about more men in his situation, dessert was served.
Jawad, who’d been the most outspoken of his cousins during the evening, grinned at him so widely he wanted to hurl a plate between his perfect teeth. “When Najeeb told us Mohab was getting hitched, we just had to see the impossibility of who’d made him consider this suicidal move.”
“Then we see Jala...and the rest of you ladies—” Haroon made a theatrical gesture around the table “—and now we know. Judar is the ultimate babe producer...and magnet.”
Najeeb glared at his younger brothers. “I knew it was the biggest mistake I’ve made in recent memory letting you two tag along. Now I know how the enmity between our families started. It must have been instigated by men with big mouths and bigger eyes, like you.”
“Chill, bro.” Jawad grinned unrepentantly. “Those guys know for a fact they have rare jewels that anyone with a heartbeat would admire.” He flashed the ladies another killer smile. “I bet they’d be offended if we pretended we didn’t notice.”
“Yeah.” Haroon smirked at Najeeb. “So maybe it was a tight ass like you, one who couldn’t take a joke or wholesome admiration, who started the enmities.”
Najeeb looked heavenward, then over at the Aal Masoods, focusing on Kamal. “See what I have to put up with? Now that you’ve seen my spare heirs, I hope you really appreciate yours.”
“Oh, our baby brother, Kamal, appreciates the hell out of us.” Farooq chuckled, eliciting an exasperated growl from Kamal. “You on the other hand, Najeeb, are to be pitied...”
Having had enough and still holding Jala’s hand, Mohab rose. “And here I want to thank you all for celebrating this momentous occasion with me and Jala.” He panned his gaze among Jala’s family. “But though I truly appreciate the welcome you’ve shown me, and forood walaa’ee wa ta’ahtee, my pledge of allegiance and obedience stands. Kamal was right. There’s nothing I want more than to have Jala to myself, at least for part of the evening, to make its memory a perfect one. So please, continue to celebrate, and excuse us as we go have our own personal celebration.”
As he pulled back the chair for Jala and she stood up lithely, his heart again convulsed when he noticed the glance she exchanged with Najeeb. Shehab and Farooq ribbed him some more, while Kamal said nothing, the gaze encompassing him and Jala still...unconvinced.
Kamal must realize Jala’s lack of interaction with him wasn’t a matter of shyness in front of her brothers, or on account of the suddenness of their resumed relationship and its rapid development. After all, Kamal was a man versed in both his sister’s nature and in matters of the heart. He must realize something was wrong.
But still giving him all the support he could, Kamal waved his hand in mock imperiousness. “You may be excused, but only because we now have said pledge of allegiance and obedience, and can do anything at all with you.”
As everyone laughed again, Jala said, “It’s only fair to warn you that while you’ll have the allegiance, you’ll be out of luck where the obedience is concerned. From personal experience you know where that will be expended.” She turned and winked at her sisters-in-law. “Right, ladies?”
As her family all laughed, and Jawad and Haroon begged to hear some obedience examples—to fortify their resolve never to marry—she waved a final goodbye. Then she turned and headed out of the dining room, with him a step behind her.
Once they were away from the royal quarters, he opened the first door he found and pulled her into the chamber’s darkness, lifting her off the ground, already kissing her.
Her gasp filled him as her lips opened beneath his. Tasting the tart sweetness of berry sauce on her tongue, he groaned, plunging deeper, seeking more of her taste, demanding her surrender. For long minutes, she gave it to him as he pressed her against the door, opening her thighs around his hips and grinding at her core thro
ugh their clothes, simulating the possession he was going insane for.
“Jala, habibati...”
She suddenly lurched and pushed at him.
Putting her back on her feet, he twisted a hand in the luxury of her hair, able to see her now that his sight had adapted to the faint lights coming from the windows. “Let me love you, ya jalati. Stop pushing me away. Let me close again. I know you want me as much as I want you.”
Her breasts still heaved against his chest, her body arched involuntarily into his even when her words rejected him. “I don’t care what I want. This isn’t what I agreed to.”
“Then agree to this now. To giving us another chance.”
“No. I don’t want another chance. I want to play my part until we’re sure your uncle will sign the treaties, then I want to leave. This is what I want to do. What I need to do.”
The desperation in her voice struck him in his vitals, made him stagger away.
And because he had admitted to himself that he loved her, only wanted her to be happy whatever the cost to him, he couldn’t pursue his seduction anymore. Not if, for some reason he couldn’t fathom, it distressed her that much. It might kill him to let her go, but he’d rather die than hurt her.
His shoulders slumped with defeat. “My uncle is sending you a set from the royal treasury. It’s his way of saying the peace treaty is as good as signed.”
After a long moment of staring at him, she whispered, “That’s great. I mean, that you think he’d sign, not about the jewels.”
He waved her qualification away. He knew she cared nothing about material things, and not because she had plenty of them. She made no use of her status in any way, not for herself. She used all her privileges to serve the world.
“I have the drafts of the treaties ready, and after Kamal approves them, I’ll present my uncle with them. My package for Saraya is very generous, but as you believe, he wouldn’t have felt secure enough or irreversibly connected to Judar without a union of blood. Which he now believes he’ll have, thanks to your cooperation. I don’t expect he’ll pose any further threat to peace.”
Her eyes wavered. This had clearly come out of left field for her. She’d expected him to continue his pursuit, his seduction. And here he was telling her there was no longer any reason for her to play along at all.
He exhaled roughly. “I had my chance with you, and I blew it. Or maybe there was never a chance to be had with you, then or now. I will take part in all the wedding preparations, so both my uncle and Kamal believe everything is in order and on schedule. I’ll push for an early signing of the treaties, which, now that my uncle is so amenable, I expect will be soon. Once he signs, I’ll reveal the truth and absorb whatever fallout ensues, away from you. Until then, I’ll give Kamal some convincing reason for leaving the palace. I’ll go in the morning, so you don’t have to put up with seeing me again.”
Nine
Something tore Mohab from the tentacles of fitful sleep.
The heart that no exertion or danger managed to send thundering, thundered now, past the comfort zone and into distress.
It only ever beat that way for Jala.
Jala. Had something happened to...?
He shot up in bed, alarm swamping him.
“Sorry I startled you.”
Mohab felt as if he’d been hit by lightning.
Jala. Here. On his bed.
Leaning across him, body draped in white silk, silvered by the moon’s cool illumination, hair raining in sheets of solid darkness across the thighs twisted in his sheets, she looked like a night goddess, his every fantasy made flesh.
This had been the dream he’d been having. That she’d come to him. He’d felt her entering his room and...
He was still asleep!
But he felt awake. She felt real. But she couldn’t be real. She’d said no. Such an impassioned, desperate no.
So had he gone over the deep end? He’d been building up to a breakdown for years now. Was this it? He’d start wish-fulfilling wide-awake? Having delusions?
“I couldn’t stay away anymore. I couldn’t let you leave without telling you I still want you. Now more than ever.”
He was hearing those words. She was saying them. He knew because even he couldn’t imagine the way she made them sound, wouldn’t be that ambitious, that delusional as to make them such a throb of passion, such a scald of longing.
She was here. And she had said those words. Not the ones he needed, but still far more than he deserved.
I still want you. Now more than ever.
On their thousandth rotation inside of a single second, he reached out a hand to her face, still half expecting to find nothing but emptiness, for her image to dissipate.
His fingers touched the hot velvet of her cheek.
Groaning at the confirmation, he swung around to his bedside lamp. He had to see her better than the crescent moon through his open windows allowed.
With the chamber flooded in golden light, he turned to her and saw that the lace and satin nightgown and matching robe were cream, not white, the color offsetting the rich gold of her polished flesh.
Then he saw her eyes. Unlocked for him at last, letting him see inside her, see the full measure of her hunger.
Already hard beyond pain, heart trembling with disbelief still, he reached back to her, careful not to make any sudden moves, still afraid this dream might come to an end as every tortured one had in the past six years.
When he was an inch from touching her again, she did something that stopped his heart. What she’d done that night he’d first taken her to his penthouse.
She melted back on the bed, as if she couldn’t support herself anymore, threw her arms above her head, arched in surrender, a sultry moan spilling from deep rose lips.
“I want you, Mohab.”
Surging with her demand, he came over her, straddled her hips, cupping her face in trembling hands. “Aih, want me, ya habibati, atawassal elaiki—I beg you. I’m yours to want.”
“Mohab...kiss my lips, give me yours...”
She reached up and grabbed his hair. This was why he’d let it grow, because she’d once told him she wanted it longer to pull him by, to tether him closer to her on their wild rides. Now she dragged his head with it, surging up to crash her mouth against his. Her tongue delved inside him, tangling in abandon with his.
He let her storm him, let her show him the measure of her pent-up craving and impatience. Then he took over.
He’d show her six years’ worth of hunger. Then he’d give her satiation well worth the wait.
He bit into her lower lip, showing her the power of his own craving, before he suckled it inside his mouth in long, smooth pulls, drawing more plumpness into her succulent flesh, then plunging his tongue inside her.
Her whimpers became incessant, her hands clenched in his hair as she wrestled with him for deeper surrender, the pain of her urgency excruciating pleasure. She crushed her breasts into his chest, cushioning him, one leg escaping his prison to wind around his hip in abandon. She was showing him she wanted anything he’d do to her. Anything at all.
Then she moaned into his mouth, “Touch me, Mohab, all over. Do everything to me, don’t be gentle...I can’t bear for you to be gentle.... I want your full force. I want you inside me, hard and long and now...now, Mohab. I can’t wait anymore...I can’t wait....”
Elation sizzled in his blood. She’d never been this vocal, never told him what she wanted or how she wanted it.
“Aih, gulili aish betridi—tell me what you want, ya galbi.” His voice shook as he pushed the robe off her shoulders, then raised her arms over her head once more and, in a luxurious upward sweep, freed her from her nightgown. She only had bikini panties beneath, which he took off, as well. Then he pulled back to fill his eyes with her.
“Ma ajmalek, ya habibati, ajmal men zekrayati, men ahlami.”
“You are.” She pressed kisses onto any part of him she reached, his chest, arms, hands. “So much more beautiful than my memories and my dreams.”
Arousal hammering in his blood, pounding in his loins, he sculpted her in a frenzy of memory and rediscovery, owned each remembered inch of her silken skin, kneading new curves, digging into strength and soft femininity. Her flesh hummed beneath his fingers, electrifying him.
Her teeth sank into his hand. “Touch my breasts....”
A chuckle revved in his chest, resonating his delight that she was so aggressively demanding his pleasuring. He loved it.
“Amrek ya hayati, command me.” He took their weight in his palms and stared at their ripened perfection, stroking their turgid flesh in wonder, squeezing their incredible resilience, circling the buds he’d tasted during so many rides to ecstasy. They were thicker now, darker, more mouthwatering.
With a long whimper, she attacked his pajama bottoms. He let her push them down his hips, growling as she released an erection that had long hardened to steel. Rising to release himself fully, he watched her fling herself up at him, then rumbled as she bunched her hands in his back muscles and latched her teeth into the muscles of his abdomen and torso, writhing against him as if she’d mingle their flesh.
He subdued her back to the bed and she wound herself around him, her voice a thread about to snap. “Come inside me, Mohab...don’t make me wait anymore...please...please...”
He devoured her pleas, unleashed now that he knew only the savagery of his need would satisfy her.
His lips relinquishing hers, he sowed a path of kisses and suckles lower, until he possessed her breasts, raining bites over their engorged beauty until she crushed his head to her, mashing her flesh into his mouth. He latched on to one nipple, then the other, alternating heavy pulls and sharp nips, each rewarded by a lurch and a shriek.
