Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3)

by Manda Mellett

  “Look at me!” Immediately taking charge, his command draws my eyes to his, and what I see there warms me. Reaching me, he lowers his head and presses his lips to mine. I feel an almost not there whisper across my mouth that makes me want more. I can’t help it, I press up against him, and as if he is waiting for that signal he flicks out his tongue, forcing me to open for him. Our mouths mash against each other, tongues and teeth clashing with a sudden insane violence. He tastes of coffee and something that’s uniquely him. With a groan I stand on my tiptoes at the same time as he supports me, taking my weight and pulling me up close against him. I feel his hardness against me, and my responding readiness as sparks are igniting deep inside me making my stomach clench, sending shock waves down to my pussy. I moan into his mouth, and he groans in return. All at once I realise I have to stop lying to myself. I want more from this man than he can ever give. Then the realisation he’ll soon be a married man cuts through me like a knife and I force myself to pull away before we can make a mistake,.

  “I’m sorry.” I gasp.

  “No, don’t apologise. Fuck, Zee. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. The moment I saw you…” Kadar turns his head away. His arms are still holding me, but at a distance. When he looks back, his eyes are hooded, “You unman me, Zee.” Gently he brushes his hand down the side of my face, his expression one of immense regret. “I’ve nothing to offer you; you know that. And there’s no mileage in wishing things were different.” He stares into my eyes compelling me to understand and then nods when he sees that, albeit sadly, I do.

  Taking my hand, he leads me out into the neglected and desolate garden of the harem. The sun is beating down, hot and furious, but we find some shade under a dying palm tree. Wanting to change the subject to something far less dangerous I wave my hand around, indicating our surroundings, the crumbling walls, the dead wood of long ago plants. “I can’t wait to get started on this, Kadar.”

  A brief nod of his head shows he appreciates the new direction of the conversation, “What are your plans?”

  “With Cara’s help, we’re taking on some local craftsmen. They’ll rebuild the walls, and once the raised beds are in place and the paths repaired I’ll get people in to do the plantings. I’ve been researching the best varieties, the ones most likely to survive here. Of course, we’ll also have to fix the irrigation systems.” I look out over the harem grounds, in my mind’s eye seeing greenery and bright colours instead of the greys and browns that now surround us.

  We sit in silence for a moment, and then Kadar takes my hand in his and pulls me in against his shoulder. “Zee, as emir the people expect me to be married, and are anticipating I’ll soon produce an heir. Only within very limited boundaries have I any choice in who my wife will be.”

  I sigh, softly, “It’s okay, Kadar, I don’t hold out any hope that things could be different. I’m not ready for a relationship with a man yet, and might never be. So even if you were free, this wouldn’t be going anywhere.” As the words leave my lips, I wonder how much of what I’ve said is a lie.

  “Don’t cut yourself off like that!” he sounds angry. “Don’t allow that man to ruin the whole of your life. You gave him a year and a half, don’t give him anymore.” He gives me a gentle shake, “There’s a man out there waiting for you, someone who will love you as you deserve. Someone who would give their life for your’s.” He pulls me into him again, and I feel his lips touch my hair, “I just can’t be that man, Zee. Whatever my feelings are. If things were different, though…”

  As his voice trails off, I wonder why he’s telling me this now. I mean, I already know that even if his wedding wasn’t already being arranged, a nobody from Surrey is never going to end up marrying a Sheikh, particularly when he’s also the ruler of a whole damn country!

  “I’m giving you my protection, Zee. That’s all I can offer you. I’ll do everything to keep you safe.” Then, before I can say anything, he continues and answers my unspoken question, “Zee, the information that you’re here in Amahad will be leaked tomorrow.” He pauses, waiting for my reaction.

  I pull away and stand up, shivering as though someone’s just walked over my grave. I knew it was coming, but that doesn’t stop the bombshell he’s just dropped scaring the wits out of me. I’d felt so much relief being on a different continent, so far away and so out of his reach. I’d been happier than I’d ever been, working here, enjoying my new life. And now Ethan’s virtually been invited in to destroy it all over again. He’s going to be too close to me. What if their plan fails? I feel a hand touch my shoulder.

  “You can’t hide forever. We need to deal with this, so you can get your life together and move on. You shouldn’t be living like this.”

  Like this? Move on? “You want me to leave Amahad?” His words wound me.

  “Never in a million years. But I need you to feel free to do so.”

  I trail my hand over an ancient twisted vine. The plant is long dead, and my heart feels much the same. Even if I could return to the UK, I’m not sure I’d want to. But I’m also not sure I can stay here and watch Kadar with his new wife, especially now I know exactly what pleasures he can give her. I shake my head as if I can rid myself of the vision of him in bed with another woman that’s entered my head, and try to concentrate on the other things he’s said.

  I know he’s right before I can make any decisions about my future Ethan has to be dealt with. “So, tell me. Exactly what’s the plan?”

  He’s beside me again. “Cards on the table time, Zee. In six weeks’ time, there’s going to be a ball, here, in the palace. The occasion when I’m expected to make my choice of bride.”

  Smothering my gasp, I force myself to remain impassive and not let my face betray my anguish. I knew it was going to happen, I just hadn’t appreciated how little time we had. Somehow I’d convinced myself it was a long way in the future; now it appears he’s counting down the weeks. It seems a barbaric way of doing things, a crude system to choose a mate for life. Mind you; I thought I’d fallen in love with the perfect man and look how wrong I’d turned out to be. Who am I to say that his way is any worse?

  After giving me a minute to digest his revelation he continues. “We’ve got a month to get your life back on track, Zee. That’s a month to deal with Ethan and to restore your trust. So I’m taking you to the desert city, to Z̧almā, to Nijad’s palace.”

  That was unexpected. “What? Why?”

  He stops my questions by placing his finger over my lips, “I don’t want you anywhere near St John-Davies. He’ll be lured here, to the capital where Nijad and Carter will deal with him. You’ll be safe with me in the Desert City.”

  “But your reputation? How can you explain why you’re taking me there? Surely you can’t afford any rumours with the meat market so close.” I cover my mouth with my hand immediately realising how rude I’ve been and the assumption that I jumped to. “I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t be.” He gives a self-deprecating grin, “I feel much the same way. But Zee, I’ve known my destiny from the time I came to rule. I accept it. I might not like it, had hoped it would be otherwise, but I can’t change it. Though, perhaps especially now I wish that I could.” He gives me no chance to process that rather strange last comment as he continues immediately, “And I have a legitimate excuse to go to the desert city. I need to meet with the tribal leaders to discuss the way forward for Amahad. Something I’ve been putting off for too long. I need to go. And the harem at the Palace of Z̧almā is in a far better state that this one, the gardens are all intact and traditionally laid out. I thought it would be good research for you to see what you might try to accomplish here.”

  It was a good cover story for getting me away at the same time as the emir, and there was no way in hell I want to come face to face with Ethan. But something rankled, making me ask, “The harem?” I purse my lips. “Cara mentioned something about that.”

  “Did she now?” Kadar’s face is full of amusement, “What did she say?”

/>   Tilting my head to one side I try to remember. “Not a lot, just that it had already been renovated.”

  Now he laughs. “Yes, it has. And I’d be interested to see your reaction. And I’ll be seeing that soon enough—we’re leaving this afternoon. Can you be packed and ready to go by two o’clock?”

  “That quickly?”

  “Yes. The information will be released to St John-Davies in the morning, and I want you a long way away from here before then. I won’t take any risks with your safety, Zee.”

  His conviction and the promise which seems to come from his heart elicit my confirmation of my readiness. After I’ve assured him there’s no issue with being prepared by the appointed time, he takes his leave. I realise neither of us had alluded further to that devastating kiss. My hand touches my lips, as I remember his caress and again recall the intimacy between us two days ago when, for the first time in my life, a man had touched me without taking anything for himself. His selflessness is astounding. Then I feel as though I’m being stabbed me through the heart when I realise I’d at least like to be able to have more time to explore what we could be together.

  But he’s giving me one month out of his last six weeks of freedom! There must be a devil sitting on my shoulder, whispering into my ear as I consider taking a chance on a man for the first time since Ethan had stormed into my life. Kadar can’t enslave me in the way that Ethan did; he hasn’t got time; he’s promised to another. But as he won’t even meet his prospective bride until the ball, I wouldn’t be encroaching on another woman’s ground if I enjoyed this time with him now, would I? What if I have the opportunity to play the role of his sub again if we get a chance to be alone together in the desert city? What if he shows me those things women should enjoy, and that I’ve been missing out on? The things my friend Sophie so clearly revelled in.

  The thought of my friend is sobering and brings me back to the reality of my situation. My tremendously bad taste in men not only led to my abusive existence but caused harm to the people I love.

  I rub my hand over my lips as if to remove any lingering taste of Kadar from my mouth, and stamp down on the residual fluttering of my heart to remove his presence there. To get involved with such a man, even temporarily, would be a grave mistake.

  Chapter 25

  Kadar

  For fuck’s sake, what made me kiss her like that? Her lips against mine, her tongue in my mouth and her unique taste has left my cock rock hard. If she’d pressed up against me any longer, I would have come on the spot. What am I, a fucking schoolboy, experiencing his first crush? As I walk through the corridors, back to my office to make the final arrangements for my absence from the palace, I can still smell her on my clothes, her sweet perfume which is all her, not something that’s come out of a bottle. Never have I felt this way about a woman before.

  Never have I felt so unable to divorce myself from getting attached. I’ve had plenty of liaisons, but that’s all they’ve been—opportunities to scratch my itch. And I’ve not even had my cock in this woman, yet I feel more emotionally invested in her than I’ve ever done with any other before. Is it that’s she’s lost all faith in men, and that I, as a Dom, desire to mend her? To restore her to the confident woman I’m sure she was before St John-Davies got his claws into her? Whatever the reason is, I have to try to keep some distance between us. I can’t let her have the slightest inkling of the depth of my feelings. I need to keep reminding myself, and her, that in a month and a half I’ll be committed to my bride. A bride with the right credentials and the approval of the country to be my wife.

  But even once back in my domain, I go through the motions of my labour with visions of a cute blond refusing to get out of my head. I work on autopilot, as I hand the reins of the country temporarily over into Nijad’s care, and the memory of her beautiful eyes makes it difficult to concentrate when Richard updates me on the relevant information I’ll need in Z̧almā. The reports on the success my assistant’s had with setting up meetings on such short notice with the Sheikhs of the southern desert nearly go over my head.

  I have to force myself to pay attention when he relates their reaction to the summons—the majority seem to appreciate the honour that their emir is going to them, instead of commanding their presence in the capital. Except for some, of course, who see it as weakness. I sigh deeply when he tells me this, remembering my father’s much harsher regime and that he was probably the more respected for it. Educated in the West, I find it impossible to continue to rule in his autocratic way, even if it’s what some of the desert sheikhs seem to expect. Although I must make changes slowly, they will need to accept the old emir is gone. And that Amahad will be dragged, albeit kicking and screaming, into the twenty-first century.

  At last free from my duties, precisely at two o’clock, I go to the helipad where Zee is ready waiting for me, a tatty looking rucksack by her side. That she’s making a small show of independence by not using the expensive luggage I bought for her makes me give a small smile. I don’t miss the slight challenge in her eyes, or the touch of fear, as the guard lifts her scruffy bag into the luggage compartment and inwardly curse, knowing she would have received a rebuke for even that small rebellion in the past.

  To ease her worries, I make no comment, and simply help her into one of the rear seats in four-seater helicopter and assist her with her harness, explaining how she can use the headset to communicate. She’s nervous, and I don’t need to hear her words telling me this is her first flight in a helicopter, I can see that for myself. So I reassure her that the craft is regularly serviced and perfectly airworthy, adding that all precautions have been taken against sabotage as I explain she’s got no need to worry. Then I get into the front passenger seat. Generally, I’d prefer to fly myself, but with the troubles we’ve been having recently, and the threats which seem to hang in the air, an extra armed man on board could be helpful. The pilot enters the craft but doesn’t start the engine.

  “What are we waiting for, Kadar?” Zoe asks, curiously, fidgeting at the delay.

  My answer isn’t verbal; I just wave towards the palace entrance. There, hurrying across towards us is the close protection officer she knows all too well. Sean Cooper. I feel a stab of envy at the broad, welcoming smile she directs at him, and the gasp of pleasure that I hear escaping her lips. For a second, I wonder whether it was such a good idea to accept Ben’s proposal that she has this additional protection detail with St John-Davies coming to the country, or at least should have insisted on the innocuous Harry.

  As an unexpected and unworthy bolt of jealousy hits me, I fight to keep any betraying expression from my face while I study the man running across the tarmac. Sean’s free and single, and unlike me has no prior commitments, and Zee seems overly pleased to see him. As he takes the seat beside her, the alien feeling of envy deepens, particularly when I glance behind as the rotors start to turn above us, and see Sean takes Zoe’s hand in his, holding it tight, picking up on her nervousness and providing her with the comfort I don’t dare give her publicly myself.

  My feelings of resentment don’t dissipate during the two-hour journey. Although they make sure to include me in the conversation, I’d like to have been the one pointing out the herd of desert ibex we fly over, the graceful animals picking up their heels and taking flight at the sound of the rotors spinning in the air. I’d like to have been discussing her progress and plans for the harem, as well as updating her on what’s happening in her homeland. Not that I’m excluded from doing any of this, but it was rash enough for me to take the same flight as her, let alone, in front of the pilot, give the impression it was for anything other than expediency and a desire to reduce our carbon footprint.

  It’s with an intense feeling of relief that we arrive and touch down on the helipad to the rear of the Palace of Z̧almā, the building neither as large or grand as the Palace of Amahad, but still impressive nonetheless. The air is hotter and drier here. In the capital citizens can feel the benefits from the sea breez
e; in the heart of the desert there is nothing but unrelenting sand and shimmering heat in all directions.

  Z̧almā is situated on what was once a busy caravan route across ancient Arabia, and built up to service the needs of the travellers. Over millenia, it has remained a focal point for the desert tribes. Originally a Sultan reigned in the palace, but the unification of Amahad in my grandfather’s time negated the need for the southern tribes to have a separate ruler. Z̧almā, however, still houses the government offices looking after the particular requirements of this region, and is now expanding to house the administration responsible for the development of the oilfield in the desert. As the focal point in the desert, it’s the ideal place for me to meet with the sheikhs.

  Once we’ve landed and exited the helicopter, I quickly usher Zoe and Sean into the palace before they start to overheat. Even I find the air unusually hot, and I was born to it. Knowing the climate of their home country well, I can understand how oppressive and uncomfortable they’ll find it, but once in the palace, the air is cooler. The older parts kept to a tolerable temperature by massive ancient fans in the ceilings and the newer or more recently renovated areas by modern air conditioning.

  Although my visit was a last minute arrangement, that hasn’t stopped a welcoming committee from being hastily assembled to acknowledge the honour of their emir paying a visit to the region. To avoid Zoe and Sean being caught up in the pomp and ceremony, which I have every expectation will be more tedious than enjoyable, I send them on ahead to the living quarters and the accommodation that has been made ready for them. The sight of them walking off together—Sean’s hand resting low down on Zee’s back—does nothing to pacify the green-eyed monster within me. Nor does the knowledge that they’ll be sharing the guest suite adjacent to the royal chambers, usually occupied by Nijad and which today will have been assigned to me. I tell myself their suite has three separate bedrooms, adding the mental reminder Sean would be unable to do his job if he didn’t remain nearby. But the pang of jealousy is hard to dismiss.