Midnight on the Sands
The attraction between them was electric. Beyond electric. It was a living thing, threatening to consume anything in its path.
And then she’d said his name. As she’d done that night in the study. As she’d done in the alleyway in the market. And it brought him back. Back from the abyss. Back from rapture.
Because he was Sheikh Zahir S’ad al Din, the Beast of Hajar. And she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thirty-three years. Everything about her was stunning perfection and he …
He was a monster. And it had little to do with his face.
Yet he lived. He lived in this shell of himself. No, he was not handicapped like he could have been. Limited vision and a limp were minor when compared to the fate of his family.
But he was not himself. He was hollow. He never moved on, and he never could. He felt nothing. Wanted nothing.
No. That’s not true.
He wanted her. So much that the craving was nearly unbearable.
He tugged the tunic shirt off and discarded it, then stood, facing the bar. He could walk over there and get drunk. Wake up with a pounding headache and unsatisfied desire.
Or he could go and get the only thing he’d wanted in five long years.
Two things stopped him. Would she be with him out of pity? Be with him because she thought he’d changed the terms of the agreement? She was so determined for the marriage to go through he wouldn’t be surprised. The other thing that stopped him was the fear of losing himself. When he kissed her, everything faded behind the red haze of passion. If he found release with her, if he allowed himself to be lost, he was not sure of what he might do.
He didn’t know anymore, how much of him was the man, and how much was the beast.
He gritted his teeth. He might not be the man he had been, no, not even close. But he knew a woman’s body. There were things he knew how to do very, very well. Tonight, he would give her every bit of that skill, pour all his desire into her needs.
And he would prove that he would not lose himself in the process. He would not be manipulated or used. He had the control, and he would show her.
Katharine flung the bedcovers back and stalked to the window. She was hot. And the desert wasn’t to blame. The night air was cool and dry, and it was usually her favorite time in Hajar. But nothing could extinguish the flame that Zahir had lit inside her.
Nothing had been able to dampen it. The chilly shower she’d taken had only made her blood run nearer to the surface, had only made her more aware of all of the parts of her body. Tender, needy parts that wanted Zahir’s rough, insistent hands on them. Without that sweet little yellow dress in the way.
She felt like her skin was too tight. Like she needed to shed it. At least shed her clothing. She arched against the silky camisole top she was wearing and the filmy fabric brushed over her nipples.
She sucked in a sharp breath. The slight abrasion of the fabric sent sensation arrowing down to the apex of her thighs, made inner muscles she had never been overly aware of tighten in response.
She took a handful of hair and twisted it around her hand, holding it up off her neck. It was damp with sweat and some of the coolness in the air finally made its way into her. Like the shower, it didn’t help.
“Katharine.”
She dropped her hair and let it fall down past her shoulders. Zahir was standing in the doorway, wearing nothing more than those pale linen pants, low on his narrow hips. Showing perfectly defined muscles, gorgeous bronzed skin.
He hid his imperfections in the shadows, and for a moment, it was easy to forget he had any. That made her feel strange. Like she was adrift in the sea without an anchor. Because without the scars—those marks that made him who he was—she didn’t recognize him. It was only for a moment, but it was so strange and strong.
She moved nearer to him, breathed in a sharp breath when she saw the roughened side of his face.
“What are you doing here?”
“I am here to finish what should have been finished in the entryway today. What should have been finished last week in the study.”
She drew in a shaky breath, just before his lips crashed down on hers. And then there was nothing beyond desperation. It clawed at her, tore at her stomach, creating a frenzied desire in her that seemed to possess her, drive her actions.
He slid his hand down to her backside, his palm resting on the tiny silk sleep shorts she was wearing, his heat burning through the thin fabric. Even that was too much. The barrier was too inhibiting.
“I’m here to show you that there are still ways I can put any man to shame.”
A tremor of desire spasmed in her and she wiggled against him. He locked his other arm around her waist, holding her still as he continued to kiss her, the strokes of his tongue slow and languorous against hers, then ferocious and hungry.
He moved his hand up, pushing her top up, making contact with her bare back. A short sound of pleasure escaped her lips.
“Good?” he asked against her mouth.
“Oh, yes.”
He took both hands and moved them up her waist, his thumbs curving beneath her breasts, so close and so far, teasing her, tormenting her. She arched, begging him, needing him to give her more.
He chuckled, ignored her offering as he continue to move his hands over parts of her body that shouldn’t have the power to send such erotic currents through her.
But they did. Her stomach, just below her belly button, to the top of the low waistband of her shorts, back up, thumbs skimming the plump flesh of her breasts without ever really touching them. Without ever satisfying the ache that burned within her.
He moved his hand to her back again, down so that both palms were flat on her backside. He pulled her into his body, let her feel the hard length of his erection pressing against her stomach. She rocked against him, seeking out any kind of satisfaction she could find, getting nothing but a tease.
And that only made her hotter, wetter, needier for more.
He knew it, too. He broke their kiss and looked at her, his eyes black in the dim light, his smile wicked, predatory. She was his prey, and he was clearly set on devouring her.
She shivered in anticipation. She had no problem with that scenario.
He lowered himself slowly, his lips soft on her neck, then the tip of tongue, gliding down between the valley of her breasts as his hands traveled upward, pushing her top up, his bare skin brushing her stomach, higher, to her breasts.
He went to his knees, pressed a hot kiss to her stomach. He fingered the edge of her camisole. “Assistance?”
She gripped the hem and pulled it up over her head, baring her upper body to him. She waited for embarrassment of some kind to hit, but it never did. She felt cocooned in the space, in the near darkness. It was their own place, and there simply wasn’t room for embarrassment in it.
He pushed her shorts down to her ankles and she stepped out of them, kicking them aside. She was completely naked now, and it was fine. More than fine.
He moved his hands over her bare hips, thighs, around to her butt. “You are incredible.” He pressed a kiss to her stomach again, tracing a line downward with the tip of his tongue. She moved her hands to his shoulders, holding on to him to keep from sinking into a puddle on the floor.
He teased her there, too. His tongue so close to the bundle of nerves that she knew was there just to send her over the edge into total, orgasmic bliss. He didn’t, though, even though she had no doubt he could with the slightest flick of his talented tongue. He simply teased, his tongue moving over tender skin, making her body shiver with delight.
He stood suddenly, pausing to look at her, that wicked smile, the most genuine show of emotion beyond anger that she’d seen, was still on his face.
“The bed,” he said.
And she knew it was an order. One she would gladly follow.
She walked backward, keeping her eyes locked with his, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She sat down, pushed herself backward. It put her in a vulnerable position, like a buffet spread out for a starving man.
He joined her on the bed, his hands moving over her curves as he kissed her mouth with ravenous need.
He cupped her breasts, teased her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure skittering through her veins. He moved his other hand between her thighs, pushing two fingers near her entrance gathering the moisture there and sliding it over to her clitoris.
The slick stimulation was so good, everything she’d been waiting for. She didn’t bother to suppress the groan of pleasure that climbed her throat.
He leaned toward her, flicked his tongue over nipple, then laved it with a long, broad stroke. “Oh, Zahir.”
She paused then, afraid that she’d make him stop. Afraid she’d ruined it again.
A dark intensity lit his eyes and he dipped his head again, sucking the tip of her breast deep into his mouth, then running his tongue around the edge of her nipple.
“Say it again,” he said roughly.
She never thought to do anything but comply. “Zahir.”
“Again,” he said, kissing her stomach, beneath her belly button.
“Zahir.”
He parted her thighs with his broad shoulders, his grip on her legs keeping her immobile. Keeping her just where he wanted her.
He stroked her aching flesh, rubbing the tips of his fingers over her that most sensitive part of her again.
He lowered his head and followed the same path his fingers had just taken with the flat of his tongue. So hot and slick, so much more intense than anything that had come before. He explored her, pleasured her that way until she was certain she was going to have to shed her skin to find some relief from the tightening, spiraling sensation that made everything in her feel too large for her body.
He pushed one finger into her and stars exploded behind her eyelids, raining down on her, leaving little prickles of heat where they landed as wave after wave of pleasure moved in her, pulsing in time with her internal muscles.
She felt shell-shocked, numb and sensitized at the same time. Like it was too much and not enough.
Zahir moved up to lie beside her, caressing her face, stroking her hair, scattering kisses on her shoulder. His erection pressing hard and insistent against her hip.
“Now what?” she asked, making a move to cup his shaft.
He caught her hand in his, kissed her upturned palm. “More of the same.”
He leaned in and kissed her mouth, and she started to melt again.
CHAPTER NINE
WHEN the last shudder of pleasure escaped her lips, Zahir stood from the bed. Katharine rolled to her side and watched him. He was still half-dressed, and physically unsatisfied, his erection evident, pressing against his pants.
“Come here,” she said, more than ready for that next step. He’d brought her to orgasm three times, and it was time, not just for his pleasure, but for her to have him. She didn’t know why, but it felt possessive. Like he would belong to her when she had him inside of her.
“I think that’s enough, don’t you? Not that I haven’t enjoyed watching you take your pleasure.”
“Come and get some of your own,” she said, not entirely understanding his cryptic statement.
“I’ve had plenty of it this evening. Tasting you, touching you, that was pleasure enough.”
“Zahir … “
He turned away from her, the moonlight filtering through the window, catching the raised ridges of flesh that marred his back. “You are a virgin?”
“I … at this point only a technicality.”
“You should remain that way then.”
“Isn’t that up to me?” she asked, clutching the bedcovers to her bare breasts and pushing herself into a sitting position.
“And me. If I do not wish … “
“You don’t wish to be with me?” She looked down at the clear outline of his arousal. “I call foul on that.”
“Tell me, is this virginity of yours a part of my marriage bargain?”
She felt heat creep into her cheeks. “More or less.”
“Is that why you’re still a virgin? Because you thought you might need it with Malik gone?”
“I … It’s complicated. But I would be lying if I said that had nothing to do with it.” It was shaming to admit. She’d never truly imagined any man would question it. Royals tended to have that view of the world. A virgin bride was important, and her being able to qualify as royal bride material had always been essential. A part of her purpose. The biggest part.
It had been ingrained in her that it was the right thing. That it was one of her commodities.
The thought made her sick now. It wasn’t something she dwelled on, not usually. Why would she? She hadn’t exactly had suitors banging down her door and part of her had been afraid that, if she’d chosen to seek out relationships, it would make her father start looking for someone else to sell her to.
She’d been enjoying her reprieve too much to let it end. But when marriage to Zahir had come up as her best option for protecting Austrich, she’d been ready.
“What if you need it later?” he asked, his tone dark.
“I’ll be divorced,” she said. “No one will expect it.”
Her throat tightened. Was she really doing this? All but begging the man to have sex with her? Was she really thinking of sleeping with him now, divorcing him and finding someone else later?
Rage shook her, mingling with a slow, rolling shiver of shame that seemed to start in her stomach and move through her limbs, making her feel weak. Angry. “Get out.”
He inclined his head. “As you wish, latifa.”
He turned and walked out. She wanted to call him back. So she could scream at him. So she could make love with him.
She lay back down and curled her knees into her chest. She’d never felt so out of place in her own body. A body that was still humming from his touch, still lit up with pleasure, from all he had done. And inside … inside was raw. Tender and bleeding.
She thought back to the intensity she’d seen on his face when he’d first walked into the bedroom.
I’m here to show you that there are still ways I can put any man to shame.
He hadn’t been here to prove it to her. He’d been proving it to himself. On the heels of the comment that journalist had made … and then Katharine had defended him. His pride had been on the line and he’d used her body to restore it.
He’d given her pleasure, more than she’d ever imagined possible, but it hadn’t been hers. It had been his. His retribution. His proof.
She pounded her fist on her pillow and let out a growl of frustration. She had been his therapy yet again. She had proven useful.
Earlier today she might have accepted that. She’d been helpful, after all. Worthwhile. But that wasn’t what tonight had been for her. It wasn’t what she wanted it to be. She hadn’t been out to prove her worth, she’d been in it for herself. For the driving need that made her body ache and her heart race.
But she didn’t want to be his bandage. She’d wanted to be his woman. His lover.
And now she was just convinced that there was truly nothing behind the rock wall he’d built around his soul. Nothing but darkness.
Avoidance, it turned out, was easy in the Hajari palace, as long as it was what Katharine wished.
Zahir had hardly seen her in the week and a half since the impromptu press conference. Since he’d come to her room and tortured himself by inches while he tasted and caressed her gorgeous, smooth body.
All he had been able to do was worship her perfection. Because he had not allowed himself to take. He had been too afraid. Of what might happen. Of what he might do or say. Of harming her in some way. Of what might happen if the rock-hard barrier of his control burst and all of the images came pouring through while he was at his most vulnerable.
He had not allowed himself to seek women out. Had not allowed himself to remember the kind of oblivion sex could bring, because oblivion was not kind to him anymore. It made him lose everything. He could not do that to her. Lose himself in her. He would not be a man if he were willing to do such a thing.
He might harm her in the worst case scenario, and in the best, she would find herself without that bargaining chip she had in her virginity.
A shiver of disgust ran through him. He didn’t see it that way, but his barbarian ancestors certainly had. His father, it seemed, had too. He doubted Malik had cared one way or the other. His brother had had such a laid-back manner, such an open acceptance and ease to him.
He was not Malik. That was for certain. Katharine would have been better off with Malik. Or with him, if the attack hadn’t happened. An ache spread through him, fierce, painful. It was the first time he’d allowed himself to think of what might have been if he and Katharine had been able to meet before the attack. If they had simply been a man and a woman.
“But that isn’t what happened,” he said into the empty space of his office.
And all of his reasons for stopping himself from having sex with her remained.
But his body was punishing him for it. He woke hard and aching in the middle of the night, his mind filled with visions of her pleasure-clouded eyes, full, parted lips reddened from kissing. That soft, curvy body. Perfect in every way, nothing to mar to her luscious beauty. The sound of her soft sighs filling his ears.
It was better than images of exploding grenades and the sounds of chaos and screaming.
The door to his office opened and he knew it was Katharine. Anyone else would have knocked. Katharine didn’t behave like everyone else. She didn’t bow and scrape and defer to his every command.
“We leave for Austrich tomorrow.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Well, I thought we should formulate a plan.” She eyed him as though it was his fault there wasn’t one, her pert chin angled out, her lips pursed.
He put his palms flat on his desk and stood, leaning in slightly. Her scent caught him, so warm and inviting. “I am not the one who has been doing the avoiding.”
Her mouth opened and closed, reminiscent of a goldfish. “I have not been avoiding you.”
“Well, you haven’t invaded my bedroom or my gym in nearly two weeks, and it’s been the same amount of time since you’ve invaded my office. Not only that, but you haven’t taken Lilah out for a ride. You’ve been hiding.”
“I don’t hide,” she said stiffly.
“Don’t you?” He looked at her haughty pose, at those steely-green eyes of hers. “You’re hiding now. Behind this facade. Emotionless, forceful, but I know the real woman. I’ve held her in my arms while she came apart with her pleasure.”
Color flooded her pale cheeks. “Just because you gave me an orgasm doesn’t mean you know me.”
“That’s not why I know you.”
He didn’t know why he said it, why he pressed. Except that he wanted her to admit that there was something between them. That there was heat. That she was more than the uppity princess that had stormed his castle over a month ago.
Because she was. He was certain of it.
It should not matter. Whoever she is, she’ll be gone when Alexander is of legal age. She’ll never be yours.
And he didn’t want her to be. It was a cruel joke, the mere thought of it. Because she was perfection. She was light and open and beneath that spine of steel, there was strength.
He was darkness. And he wanted to remain in the shadows. How could he do anything else when no one else involved in the attack was able to do anything? They were gone. They could never move on from it. Why should he? How could he? It seemed his duty, his responsibility, to cling to the memory, but it kept him apart.
“Why do you know me then?” she asked, her full lips turned down into a frown.
“Because … you’ve given yourself to me.”
It was true. She had. She was the image in his mind now, instead of grenades. When the crowd surrounded their town car in the market, he saw her face.
“I haven’t given myself to you.” She wrinkled her nose, as though the very idea disgusted her.
“I didn’t seem so repellent to you the other night in your bed,” he said, anger roaring through him immediately.
“That isn’t what I mean! Obviously I don’t … Obviously I … I don’t belong to you.”
“No, Katharine, you don’t. You could never belong to any man. It is far too passive a place for you to be. And you are anything but passive.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. I have the internal battle scars to prove it. I simply meant you have taken time with me. Taken the time to try and …” He didn’t like the word help. It seemed weak to him. And yet he’d needed it. And she had given it. “You have helped me.”
She looked down. “I needed to.”
His chest felt tight. “So that I can make a show of being a strong Regent to your country?”
She nodded, the motion jerky. “Of course.” She looked up, her green eyes wells of emotion so deep he could not see the end of them. And he didn’t want to. “Remember that it’s much colder in Austrich than it is here. The air is thinner, too.”
“Naturally.”
“What time do we leave tomorrow?”
“If we leave in the morning we should arrive with daylight left in Austrich. Eight o’clock?”
She forced a smile. “I guess coordinating wasn’t all that complicated.”
Maybe it wasn’t. But everything else was. Zahir wasn’t the kind of man who did complicated. Everything in his life was simple. Get out of bed, get through the day, try to find some rest in the sleep that always tried to elude him.
Not since Katharine had come. And he could truly say he didn’t want things back the way they were before she came.
But he wasn’t sure he could stand six years of denying himself while she lived in the palace, as his wife. Untouchable and more tempting than any woman he had ever encountered.
Green trees, capped with pristine white snow blurred together as their private plane landed on the airstrip that was positioned behind the palace in Austrich’s capital.
The deep saturation of color, after coming out of the washed-out landscape of Hajar was almost blinding in its intensity. Surreal as Katharine descended from the steps and onto the tarmac, her high-heeled shoe making contact with the icy ground.
It was never quiet in the desert. There was always the buzz of an insect or the sound of the wind skipping over the sand. But in Austrich, the mountains and trees offered insulation from noise, and brought a kind of silence that bordered on the surreal.
“You all right?” she asked, turning to face Zahir, who was looking at the sky, the gray, overcast sky that must seem completely foreign to him.
“Of course.”
“You haven’t … I mean, I know you and Malik went to school in Europe, but you haven’t traveled outside of Hajar in … “
“Five years,” he said, turning his focus to the craggy peaks that surrounded them.
“It’s very different here. I remember the first time I went to Hajar I was in shock. I felt like I was right next to the sun.”
He looked at her then, his dark eyes inscrutable. “You belong here.”
“It’s in my blood.”
She knew he meant she didn’t belong in Hajar. Didn’t belong with him. As much as she knew it, she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreignness that crept over her when she turned to face the castle, rising from the tall pine trees, towers gleaming in the faint glow of the sun.
This place, her home, it felt strange now. Stranger than it felt to be in Hajar.
“My father is expecting us.” She turned and strode to the limo, waiting to drive them the thousand or so paces to the castle.
She allowed the chauffeur to open the door for her and before Zahir got in on his side she blew out a hard breath and fought with the urge to cry or scream or something. Something that would tear into Austrich’s silence.