“Good.” He moved away, taking his warmth with him. “Come here.”
She meekly followed and watched as he threw a few pillows and blankets into a corner.
“You will sleep here,” he said, pointing to the cozy nest he’d just made. “I shall sleep over there.”
Yasmin swallowed hard.
“If you leave this carav while you are under my supervision, I will find you, wherever you go.”
“I-I won’t, Jackal.”
“Smart girl.”
With that, he walked to his side of the carriage and sat on the floor. “Good night, Yasmin.”
She sat as well, trembling as she pulled up the blankets. “Good night. Siraj.”
Four
The lurching of the carav woke Yasmin the next morning. Siraj was nowhere to be found. He had probably woken early to ready his caravan for the trip back to his oasis. She hadn’t heard him make a sound.
A small tray of food was by the door. He must have left it for her. Thank the gods. The last thing she wanted was to confront his people. Regardless of her safety, staying in the private carav of the Jackal Prince was something to gossip about. No doubt the gossip had already begun. Surely Yasir and his wife knew where she’d gone.
Yasmin didn’t think long on it when her stomach growled. She took the tray and returned to her pillows, eating voraciously. As she ate, she studied Siraj’s quarters.
His pedestal throne was near where he’d slept, draped with golden silks and fine pillows. A few small tables were here and there, holding pens, papers, and a jug of water. The chest that held his clothing was open and messy, as if he didn’t have time to straighten things once he’d found what he’d been looking for.
Lovely golden silks also draped from the walls, giving the room an ethereal glow as the sunlight poured in through the slats.
After she’d finished her breakfast, Yasmin wondered what she could do to pass the time. She’d left her robes in Yasir’s carav—she couldn’t very well leave the Jackal’s carav in her bedclothes.
Perhaps she should tidy up, as having two sleeping areas took quite a bit of space on Siraj’s lovely golden carpets.
Her decision made, Yasmin stood and folded the blankets she’d slept in, laying them in a neat pile in the corner. She placed her pillows on top then moved to where Siraj had slept. She took her time folding his blankets, relishing in the thought that his warm body had curled within them.
By the gods, she was smitten. There was no use denying it. She’d fallen for him the first moment their eyes had met on the dunes as children. But she couldn’t think of anything beyond his protection. Falling in love with the Jackal Prince was walking on fragile ground. She was an outcast, someone who would only bring shame upon his house as a witch of the ancient magics.
Yasmin laughed at herself. She wasn’t in love with Siraj, she knew nothing about him. All she knew was that he’d been run through by the Cobra, and that he thought of her. Every day. For years.
Bringing his pillow to her face, she breathed deep. She remembered his arms around her. His skin, so warm and soft. She had to swallow hard and bite her lip to keep from trembling. For the first time in her life, she desired a man. Yasmin had been on the receiving end of a man’s lust before, but had managed to keep them at bay with her magic. Perhaps in retribution they had turned on her and incited others to do the same.
But Siraj was different than the rest. Aside from being the prince of his people, he was kind and considerate, and he wanted to see her safe—just as much as he wanted to gaze into her eyes.
The bits and pieces she’d been able to read of his thoughts had revealed to her a gentle man. He would never back down on his word, and that only served to attract her more. Aside from the things he said to her outright.
Leaving his tidied blankets, Yasmin made her way to his clothing chest, gilded with golden jackals. The prince definitely didn’t want for finery.
She pulled out his robes in an effort to fold and replace them. But what she saw at the bottom of the chest stopped her in her tracks. It was the Jackal armband, meant for Siraj’s princess.
It was lovely, a howling jackal with its head back, as if baying at the moons. Wrought in gold, the body of the animal wrapped around in a circle while the tail would hang almost to the wearer’s elbow. In the center of the coiling band was a single dried flower, its petals a lovely shade of lavender.
Like her eyes.
Yasmin pulled it out and studied it, wondering where in the desert Siraj obtained such a bloom.
At that moment, the door to the carav opened, making the entire carriage rock from side to side. The Jackal himself sprang through the entrance with a cat-like grace. His face was flushed and his breathing hard, as if he’d jogged down the line to return to his quarters.
He hadn’t closed the door. The sand slid by as the Sentinels plodded on, making their way to Siraj’s oasis. The smile on his face faded when he took in the scene before him. Yasmin could only surmise what she looked like to him, kneeling before his clothing chest, holding the bloom he’d obviously kept tucked away.
Instantly, she glanced down and trembled, hoping to all that was holy she hadn’t just incurred his wrath.
Siraj’s voice rolled over her like a hot desert wind. “You have found my clea flower.”
The tone in his voice didn’t tell her if he was angry or not.
“I am sorry, Highness,” she said timidly, replacing the flower. “I had only meant to help you by cleaning your things.”
“I have servants to clean my things.” He stepped closer, his hands on his hips.
She nodded. “But I had nothing to do.”
“You could have come find me. I would have shown you my caravan.”
Yasmin indicated the thin robe she slept in. “Not in this,” she told him. “I left my proper robes in Yasir’s carav.”
Siraj crossed the room and knelt beside her. He was silent for long moments before he spoke again. “It took me forever to find the right shade.”
Yasmin lifted her gaze to his in a silent question.
Siraj nodded his head to the flower. “The clea blossom. They grow at my oasis, but for only two weeks in the cooler months. A few years, I’d missed their blooming. But perhaps five cycles ago, I’d finally arrived at my oasis when they were in full bloom. I scoured the plants for just the right color. That one was nearly perfect.”
“The right color? For what?” she asked, confused.
Siraj picked up the flower and held it to her face. “It matches your eyes.”
Yasmin gasped, unable to look away from his gentle smile. Pieces of his thoughts came to her, flitting through her brain like a butterfly. He cared for her. He wanted to protect her. And for the past ten years, Siraj Pramtash had been wishing and hoping he’d meet her again.
“I was only with you…minutes at best,” she whispered, referring to their first encounter. She knew he understood what she was talking about. Of course he did. They were connected on some higher level—as if beyond mere flesh, their souls had bonded.
“It doesn’t matter, and you know it,” he answered, his voice just as soft.
“You have thought of me all this time?”
His slow nod made her skin pebble from head to toe. “And I’d be willing to bet,” he said, scooting closer, “that you’ve thought of me, more than you’ve already admitted.”
“I was a young girl, smitten with an older boy—one who just happened to be a caravan prince.” It took all her concentration not to glance away. But she couldn’t help closing her eyes the instant Siraj’s palm cupped her cheek.
“And now?” he prodded.
“Now that boy has grown into a fine man, one I can barely bring myself to look at.”
“Why?” he demanded. He was affronted. His thoughts turned angry and hurt at her words. She needed to put him at ease again.
“Because I don’t ever want to look away.”
Gods. Siraj closed his eyes and she read hi
s thoughts like a scroll. The scenes of him kissing her senseless were what made her shudder, but it was the scenes of him caressing her body that made her wet. Yasmin couldn’t stop her nipples from hardening any more than she could stop the moons from chasing each other across the sky.
His eyes snapped open and he pinned her with his gaze, as if he’d just had a revelation. “You can read my thoughts, can’t you?”
How did he know? “O-only bits and pieces. Your Highness.”
“Do you know what I’m thinking right now?”
Her concentration was shattered, but she licked her lips and tried her hardest to read him. A sudden flash of his face between her legs had her gasping. Loudly. With that thought came a wave crashing over her, pulsing through her pussy as if his tongue truly caressed her clit. Then it was gone.
“Are you all right?” Siraj asked, concern lacing his voice.
Yasmin made a conscious effort not to moan. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, panting.
His grin grew wicked. “I’ve done more than dream of your eyes, Yasmin.”
“Your door is open,” she reminded him in a small voice.
He arched a brow. “Then close it.”
Yasmin knew he was challenging her to use her magic. It would be easy enough. But then she’d be alone with him, in the privacy of his carav, knowing exactly what he thought of when his mind wandered to her. His lusty thoughts had her skin yearning for his touch.
She raised her hand to meet his challenge and flick the door shut.
“Siraj!” Yasir’s voice filled the carav and Yasmin turned to see the Jackal’s brother in the doorway. “Ooh, bad timing on my part. I came to give Yasmin back her robes.”
Instantly she stood, knowing full well she was a coward. Siraj had been straightforward with his thoughts and feelings toward her. And she was once more pulling away.
“Do not worry yourself,” she said, as if she had a right to give Yasir peace of mind for interrupting her audience with the Jackal. “Thank you for returning them.”
Yasir glanced over her shoulder and grinned before handing her the robes and bounding off to where he’d come from.
Yasmin didn’t turn to face Siraj. She couldn’t. Their sensual game had almost become a reality, and that wasn’t something she was ready to come to terms with.
She barely knew the Jackal!
“I have neglected my caravan for far too long,” Siraj said, clearing his throat. But before he took his leave, he stopped next to her and grasped her hand. “Never be ashamed of what I say to you, Yasmin. Or how I make you feel. Words cannot describe the connection between us. I know you feel it, too.”
He didn’t wait for her to say anything. Instead, he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it, lingering longer than was necessary. With a devilish grin, he was gone, slipping out the open door and striding through the dunes.
Yasmin watched him go, knowing full well that he knew she did. But the pressure of his lips on her skin had zinged through her entire body, igniting something foreign within her. She had to press her hands against her belly or risk swooning right there in the Jackal’s carav.
What had she gotten herself into?
Five
It was past midday and Siraj couldn’t keep what had happened earlier between him and Yasmin from his mind. He’d returned to his carav to check on her only to find her rummaging through his clothing chest. He had been more surprised than angered at her actions, and had decided to be honest with her about his feelings. If she was indeed the one woman the god of Jackals had set aside for him, she deserved his honesty.
Now more than ever, Siraj felt the connection between them, plain as day. If Yasmin didn’t feel it, then she was a liar.
She could read his thoughts. He had no idea how thoroughly she could do so, but it was obvious by her reaction she’d been able to see the erotic scenes that had flashed through his head. What he hadn’t been prepared for was feeling something whoosh out of his body and into hers. She’d gasped, and he’d assumed it had been due to what he’d been thinking.
But Siraj wasn’t too sure. That familiar feeling had been too much like magic leaving his body. But his talent for magic was strength. For as long as Siraj could remember, he had been much stronger than anyone he’d ever known. And his strength had been convenient on the day he’d deposed his father.
Perhaps Yasmin had cast her magic without knowing it. At this point, anything was possible.
He’d spent the entire morning inspecting every carav as they traveled, looking for any signs of damage from the ghostly encounter of the night before.
Amazingly, no one in his caravan had heard a sound during the night. Not even Yasir or his wife. Siraj wondered how that could be possible. That thing had rattled his carav so hard, Siraj was amazed it still stood, much less traversed the dunes. And the ghost’s howling shrieks had surely been heard by all.
But as Siraj walked down the line, the more he became convinced that only he and Yasmin experienced the events of the previous night. How was that possible?
How was anything possible?
“So tell me, brother,” came the mischievous voice of Yasir, suddenly beside him. “How is it Yasmin has been in the caravan for barely a full day and yet she shares your carav instead of mine?”
Siraj gazed at Yasir walking next to him and gave him a lopsided grin. “She couldn’t live without me.”
They both chuckled before Siraj turned serious. “I need to tell you something, Yasir, and you must believe me.”
“All right.” His brows furrowed. “What is it?”
Siraj sighed before speaking. “Yasmin is being pursued. By a spirit. She heard it screaming over Neviann last night and ran to my carav for safety.”
Yasir stared at him with his mouth wide open. Siraj continued.
“The moment I opened the door and let her in, something hit my carriage hard. I even have piles of sand on my floor as proof. But…it seemed as if it couldn’t enter my carav. Yet no one in the caravan heard a thing and nothing seems to be damaged. No one is hurt, thank the gods.”
“Are you sure of this?” Yasir swallowed hard.
Siraj nodded. “Scared me more than I’d care to admit.”
“Do you know who…or what…it is?”
“No. I doubt even Yasmin does. But she’s claimed it has been chasing her for a while. That’s why she came to me, for my protection. It found her here, but seemed powerless to attack me.”
“Of course it was powerless against you. You’re the Jackal Prince, steward of the god of Jackals himself. There is no spirit in Kaldaeron that could stand up to the power of our god.”
“I am frightened for Yasmin,” Siraj confessed, walking alongside his caravs as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “She doesn’t know how to defend herself. I’m her only hope against…whatever it is.”
Yasir was quiet for a few moments, pondering his words. “Isn’t this the very same girl who once healed your mortal wound years ago? Isn’t she the one you’ve hoped to find again?”
“Yes.”
“There is one way to solve your problem if you want to give her the permanent protection of our god.”
Siraj gave him a sharp look and cocked his brow.
“Make her your princess.”
Threading his fingers through his hair, Siraj let out a bark of laughter and looked at the sky. Hadn’t he just been thinking the very same thing?
“I don’t know the woman,” he said in exasperation. “How could I possibly make her the mother of my caravan when I have no idea what kind of person she is?”
Yasir held his hand out to indicate Siraj’s carav. “Is she not staying with you indefinitely? Get to know her. Everyone in the caravan is well aware how much you’ve longed to find her again. I don’t think it would shock a single person if you married her.”
“I feel…a connection with her,” Siraj said, his voice low. “I don’t expect you to understand. But I feel as if I
do know her. I just need to remember.”
“Perhaps meeting her again was preordained by the gods themselves,” Yasir suggested. “Seems to me, your soul knows it even if your head does not.”
“You do not find this entire turn of events the least bit strange and uncanny?” He had to know he wasn’t the only one.
“Of course I do, Brother,” Yasir said, patting him on the shoulder. “But I’ve seen stranger things than this.”
Considering all Siraj himself had seen in his own life, he supposed Yasir’s words weren’t too far from the truth.
~ * ~
Yasmin finally dressed in the robes Yasir had brought for her and stepped out of Siraj’s carav. It had taken most of her courage just to open the door, as the approval of Siraj’s people meant the world to her. If she never had another rock thrown at her, it would be too soon.
The heat of the air hit her in the face, prompting her to fill her lungs with the acrid desert breeze. The sun was bright but welcome as it beat down upon her. For the first time in her life, she felt safe. Protected.
Various people walked here and there alongside the caravan. A few of them gazed at her, but most continued on as if they hadn’t seen her, and that suited her just fine. She scanned the line for the Jackal and spotted him further on, talking with his brother. Yasmin wasn’t about to disturb him. She was content to walk for a while and stretch her legs without fearing for her safety.
A smile swept across her face. The freedom she felt, merely walking with the Jackal’s caravan, bolstered her mood. She felt giddy, as if she could accomplish anything, even beat the ghost that haunted her.
But that thought had her reliving the terror of the previous night. Yasmin glanced once more at Siraj, only to suck in her breath at the sight.
He was gazing back at her.
A slow, easy grin spread across his face, sending shivers down her spine, despite the oppressive heat. She couldn’t hear his words, but it seemed as if he’d taken his leave from Yasir. Now, he made his way down the line toward his carav—toward her.
The Jackal Prince Page 3
