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"You bastard, you let them kill her!"
Abram's face was damp. The stoic, often cold heir to the minor throne had shed tears.
"A whore. A blight to your life!" his father screamed back at Abram. "She is better off dead, just as you are better off without the blight she brought to your soul. She let your brother touch her. She allowed another to desecrate the garden you tended. "
Khalid stared at them in horror. Abram swung around as Azir Mustafa had realized what he had said at the second Khalid stumbled into the room.
"Lessa," Khalid whispered, staring at Abram, praying he'd heard wrong. Praying she was safe.
"They killed her," Abram snarled, his dark eyes burning with such livid rage that Khalid backed away from him. "That bastard let them kill her. "
Abram stalked out of the room, swearing he'd kill them with his bare hands. As the large doors slammed behind him, Azir sighed wearily, as though dealing with a child's temper.
"He won't find them," he finally said, shrugging. "They will not return until he has regained his senses. It is regrettable, but the girl brought it on herself with her unholy desires. " He had glared at Khalid. "Such women do not deserve the lives they are given. "
To this day, that memory was so vivid, so clear in his head. The scent of sandalwood, the breeze that blew through the opened windows. His father's bronzed features twisted into a scowl, his black eyes burning in fanatical judgment.
Something had died inside Khalid that day. He remembered staring at the man who had helped create him and thinking that monsters truly did exist in the world.
Azir's gaze had flickered over him then, as though only then realizing that Khalid had been harmed. A frown had formed between his brows as he reached out for his son. Khalid had flinched, turned, and left. His broken rib had been no more than an ache. The pain in his soul had shattered him.
He'd showered, changed clothes, then stolen a vehicle from the palace garage and driven himself the distance to Riyadh, where he'd called his mother in America. She'd arranged his return. She'd been waiting for him after he'd healed enough to fly, and had tried to heal the wounds his soul had been inflicted with.
Khalid had tried to put the past behind him; he'd put his father behind him and disowned the bastard as well as the half brothers who had never known a moment's punishment for what they had done to Lessa.
Abram had taken care of her body. He'd had her cleaned, dressed, and buried as his faithful wife. He had gone to her funeral, and as he had written Khalid not long after, he had buried his soul with her.
It should have been over. His ties to the desert and the family he hated above all things should have been severed. They had been, until the suspicious death of Abram's second wife and unborn child.
Ayid and Aman were determined to ensure that Abram and Khalid paid for the deaths of the women they called wives, the desert vipers who had been as merciless, as vicious as their husbands could ever hope to be. But even more they wanted vengeance for the loss of respect and the money Khalid had cost them each time he managed to track down and destroy one of the terrorist cells his brothers controlled.
After finishing his shower, Khalid dried himself, and then padded naked back to the bed. Marty was still sleeping peacefully in the same position he had left her in. Curled in the middle of his large bed, she looked much too small, too fragile to be the lover she had been such a short time ago.
Lifting the sheet, he eased into bed beside her. His heart clenched as she shifted, moaning a little before turning and rolling into his arms.
She fit against his body perfectly. Her head rested at his heart, her slender legs entwined with his. She was a warm, precious weight, one he feared for more than he wanted to admit.
He would protect her, he promised himself. Her fathers were watching out for her, as was Shayne. He wasn't alone in protecting her and, unlike with Lessa, he knew the danger was there. He wouldn't lose her to them. They wouldn't take this woman and the life he had built for himself in the past ten years. He would kill them before he allowed it.
His brothers had marked themselves when they had struck at her. He wouldn't rest now; he would never lower his guard or his determination to destroy them. If he had to destroy the throne to destroy them, then he would do so. Abram had better prepare himself, and he had better bring his part to the table quickly. Because Khalid wasn't playing anymore.
Chapter 16
After Shayne's early morning meeting with her fathers the next day, Marty typed up her resignation, dotted all the i's and crossed her t's, ensured that the proper wording was there, then handed it to her godfather after his meeting with Shayne.
Zach's expression had been quiet before he stared back at her, his gaze flashing with sorrow and regret before he gave her a sharp nod and turned away.
There was nothing left to do then but turn in the letter to her boss. The protocol irked her. Deerfield was an irritation she would have preferred not to deal with right now. The moment Marty walked into Deerfield's office, she knew she should have just stayed in Khalid's bed that morning.
Deerfield had shed his jacket and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and his hair was standing on end, as though he had plowed his fingers through it countless times. Hazel-green eyes stared at her with a hint of censure and brooding disgust as she stepped to his desk and laid the resign
ation on it.
"I'll consider the rest of my vacation as advance notice of my intent to resign," she stated, as she stared back at him with chilling regard. "I won't be returning. "
"Sit down," he ordered, his tone calm but steely with a muted fury.
Taking a seat, Marty watched him warily, wondering at the flush on his pale face and the glitter in his eyes. She could almost swear he had been drinking.
