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“She’s the most prepared for what’s ahead. Her parents are diplomats of royal birth. And they’ve met her. She’s respectful and intelligent.”
Cassie spun away from him. Respectful and intelligent. Oh, to be damned with such faint praise.
“When do you meet with the third?”
“Alisan, she is called.”
“Alisan, Sina, Arja. All such beautiful names.” And how she hated them!
He put his hands on her shoulders and massaged her gently. The wistful tone of regret had not escaped him. “We should not discuss this.”
“When do you meet with her?” Cassie pushed, her heart aching.
“Next week, early.”
Cassie bit down on her lip. It was too hard to think about. Far too hard to process. She spun in his arms, with no idea of how bleak her expression was. “Layth?”
His dark eyes scanned her face thoughtfully. “Yes?” He asked, after what felt like an age.
“Make love to me in my bed.”
It was the first time she’d called it that. Usually it was ‘sex’. But now? She had to admit that her feelings
were more involved than she wanted. He followed her into her bedroom, paying brief attention to the décor before focussing everything he was on Cassie.
Layth kissed her gently, but inside, he was a melting pot of frustration and annoyance. Both he and Cassie had acknowledged their limitations when they’d entered into this relationship. Layth had known he could offer her nothing more than a brief liaison. And yet he wanted more.
He wanted, at least, the opportunity to let whatever this was run its proper course.
He undressed her slowly, without lifting his mouth from hers. And while he was gentle with her, his mood was dark. He pressed her backwards onto her bed, trying not to focus on the blackness of his emotions.
His fingers crept along her arms, teasing her flesh as he went. Cassie kissed him with ferocious intensity, and Layth groaned, then gripped her wrists in one hand. He pressed them hard against the bed, and then used his other hand to part her thighs.
His possession of her was swift and powerful.
He took her to claim her. With his body he professed what he could never say. She was his and would be long beyond his marriage to whichever bride he chose. He moved within her as though the gravitational force of the earth was at his back. And all the while his hand kept her arms pinned above her head, holding her prisoner to the moment of passion.
Layth was lost in the thundercloud of his need, but Cassie was not.
She froze beneath him, and when he looked at her face, she was still.
“Let me go,” she said in a voice that was strangled. “Let me go, let me go, let me go.” With each incantation she became more and more desperate, until finally her hands were pushing at his chest. “Let me go. Get off me. Get off me.”
He could not have been more shocked if she’d sprouted wings and flown away. He pulled off her immediately, his desire extinguished by whatever had made her break out in an all-over body sweat.
“Cassie?”
She sat up and rubbed her wrists. They were bright pink. He’d held her far more tightly than he’d intended. But not enough to truly hurt her. The colour was already fading.
Her skin was, otherwise, pale. Pale as paper. He stared at her long and hard, wondering what had happened to evince this response.
She was miles away; decades from him, and haunted.
“Cassie?”
Her big blue eyes were round and haunted. She seemed to be looking at him from through a thousand layers of trauma.
“Don’t do that again,” she whispered finally, swallowing with visible effort.
