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“Tell me, Abram, do you think every man you give that order to is going to obey? Do you think Jafar considers this battle done in any way? That it’s over?” His brow lifted as he leaned back into the heavy interlocking straps of the cargo seat. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah, here’s a better one,” he suggested. “When you’ve completely f**ked up, figured out where you f**ked up, and convinced yourself you can fix it, do you really believe she’s going to be sitting home alone, just waiting on you?”
Tariq had no doubt that was exactly what Abram thought. His arrogance could only be bested by Khalid’s or Jafar’s.
“Stay the hell away from her,” Abram repeated. “It’s my fault she was placed in danger this time. If it’s your fault the next time, then I’ll have someone’s ass to kick to make me feel better. I can ensure that ass kicking is yours.”
If nothing else, his cousin could be predictable when it came to Paige. He was incredibly stubborn sometimes, and Paige was one of the things that he could be incredibly stubborn about, but he was predictable.
Tariq nodded slowly before sliding his gaze to the side to catch Abram’s look, heated and filled with longing as he stared at her.
“Don’t make the mistake of asking me to be your third again,” Tariq warned him, aware of the look of surprise Abram shot him.
“Blackmail?” Abram’s brow arched as he turned a glare on him.
“Whatever you want to call it, cousin.” Tariq shrugged. “I think I’m rather like Paige. I’m just sick and f**king tired of you teasing the hell out of both of us. And be careful, I might just decide to take that ass whooping to get the girl. It didn’t look that damn bad when you were pounding on Jafar.”
If Abram’s look had been a bullet, it would have pierced his heart, shattered it, then probably found other important parts of his body to deal with.
“I’d make Jafar’s ass whipping look like a mother’s loving pat,” Abram retorted, his tone turning dark, furious. “Don’t push me on this, Tariq.”
Before Tariq could argue or throw the punch Abram was daring him to throw, his cousin surged to his feet. He moved quickly to the front of the plane where he could sit alone.
And Paige slept on. Maybe.
Tariq’s gaze narrowed on her lashes. He could have sworn he’d seen a glimmer of her gaze beneath them. Hell, if he had known she was awake he would have made certain to make it a little more entertaining for her.
There were times the life of a third could be a definite pain in the ass.
Abram stared at the woman that should be his lover, his gaze hooded, hunger pounding at him. The adrenaline produced by the fight with Jafar still thundered inside him, the need still raged and pulsed through his body.
The ending of that fight had left him questioning his cousin in ways he hadn’t before. He had never known Jafar to break his word on a deal. What had caused it this time? And why had he been so intent on keeping not just Abram, but also Paige?
The fight had been as much about possession of Paige as it had been about the possession of Mustafa lands, Abram decided. A possession the Mustafa family would now lose forever. Just as any small amount of control over Paige had been taken as well.
The emissary would arrive any day and find Abram no longer in attendance to take over guardianship of the fortress. An agreement that had existed for more than three hundred years would now come to an end, and for that Abram knew the monarchy would be more than thankful. It was an agreement he knew they had regretted nearly from the inception. From the day they had dealt with the first treacherous Mustafa.
There had been a few over the years who had dreamed of peace rather than war, but they hadn’t been in the majority.
He closed his eyes, unable to stare at Paige knowing that when the transport landed he would have to let her go. That or risk his sanity when he had to face the guilt of losing her.
Until Khalid, no son of Mustafa had ever found happiness in love. And Khalid’s happiness wasn’t yet assured. As long as Azir lived, there could be no assurances, there could be no security. And he was learning Khalid was a far braver man than he.
His brother had found the ability to love, the ability to laugh, and to dream again. Abram hadn’t yet found the courage to consider that step. And he learned the night before that being with Paige would take more from him than just his cock.
That was all he had to give. The sex, the heat, the pleasure of two men at once.
It was a pleasure that he hadn’t given Paige, though he meant to. Once again Azir had managed to royally f**k things up for him.
He stared at her again, remembering the pleasure, the sensations searing him from the inside out.
How tight she was, how sweet and hot. The taste of her on his tongue, the delicious spice exploding against his taste buds and intoxicating him. And he remembered the need—the need to watch her face, to hear her screams of pleasure as both he and Tariq possessed her gorgeous body.
How he’d fantasized about it. How he’d longed for it over the years. To take her as the sweet, responsive lover he knee could be and to give her every possible second of sensual, sexual excitement that he and Tariq were capable of.
A pleasure none of them could know, despite the furious heat of his cock, throbbing, pounding, aching. His balls drew up tight at the base of his c**k at just the thought of f**king her again. Of watching Tariq touch her, taste her, watching her face, seeing her pleasure, catching all the nuances of a woman consumed by the ecstasy he was bringing her, as another f**ked her.
He’d had her himself. He’d have to make do. He couldn’t risk her further. He couldn’t risk himself further.
Because losing her would kill him.
13
It felt strange to be home. To walk through the door of her apartment and have the familiar scents wash over her, but to find that aura of peace and security to be strangely absent.
She had been kidnapped from her own home and taken from the country she called home. Unconscious, she had been unable to fight against whatever happened to her. Unable to fight to survive.
The apple-pie scent of the fragrant oils that wafted from the potpourri on her end table teased her sense of smell. The scent of furniture polish, light though it was after nearly a week since her maid service had visited, still added to that sense of cleanliness she had once enjoyed.
The myriad rose, jasmine, and vanilla scents from the unlit candles around the room assured her she was at the one place she had depended upon for safety since moving from her parents’ home.
