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‘Food,’ he lied, the word burning his tongue. ‘Speaking of which...it’s getting late. I’m sorry that wasn’t a proper meal, just snacks and—’
‘It was perfect. I wasn’t hugely hungry,’ she said with a smile. ‘Though I might be tomorrow,’ she warned.
‘Then tomorrow we will have a feast,’ he assured her.
She stood, but appeared hesitant, worried almost.
‘What is it?’
‘Khalif, do you know where the necklace is?’
Her large blue eyes were wide with hope. For a selfish moment he wanted to deny that he did. He wanted to refuse her the legacy that was so clearly hers because the necklace was so entangled with his memories. A thread woven through his family that to unpick it, to remove it from them would make Samira the last wearer...
‘Yes. I do,’ he said gravely.
‘Is it here? Can I see it?’ For a moment he thought she might clasp his shirt, but instead her hands were entwined before her.
‘Star, it’s back in Burami, I’m sorry.’ She bit her bottom lip again and the sight made him want to soothe away the punishment with his thumb. ‘I will speak to my family, but I do believe you, and I believe that it belongs with you.’
‘Thank you.’
He gestured for her to go before him and followed her out into the gently lit corridor, realising for the first time that her feet were bare. The sight of them had his fists clenching and he wrestled to get himself under control. He absolutely refused to believe that he had developed a foot fetish in the last twenty-four hours, but he couldn’t deny the wicked bent to his thoughts.
He knew that she could feel it too. Hadn’t missed the way that her shoulders had tightened, how she’d tilted her head just a little to the side, as she had done only the night before in Burami. He’d pressed his lips and tongue to that spot on her neck...
This time it was he that punished his lip with his teeth, hoping that the short sting would bring him back to his senses. Senses that were almost completely filled with her. She reached the doorway and turned, her hand against the wood, as if anchoring her in place, for which he was thankful. She looked up at him and he was instantly aware of how he towered over her, filled with memories of covering her completely with his body, her pheromones already making him recognise her as his.
She rose onto her tiptoes and he stilled, unsure as to whether he wanted to encourage her or not. Leaning in, she turned her head just slightly and pressed the simplest of kisses against his cheek and it held all the power of a tsunami. While he was trying to navigate his way through the swirling waves, she disappeared into her room and he was left in the dark, clenching his fists, feeling far too much.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KHALIFWOKEFROMa nightmare, heart pounding, skin sweat-soaked, his body tangled in the sheets. The bands of a tension headache pressed against his temple before he’d even opened his eyes, and the cords of his neck ached as if he’d roared his way through the night.
The phone by his bed lit up as it vibrated and he didn’t need to check it to see that he had about thirty unread emails and probably at least eight missed calls from his father about the memorial.
He looked at the clock, guessing that it was early as the sun was yet to rise. Five thirty a.m. felt brutal after last night, but there was no way he was going back to bed. The conversations he’d had with Star had felt oppressive and he still hadn’t shaken the weight of the past from his shoulders.
He got dressed, choosing loose trousers and shirt, and placed thekufion his head before wrapping thekeffiyehinto a turban, pressing his palms against the secure familiar material that felt as if it were keeping the pounding in his head contained.
He made his way down dark corridors, not quite ready to let go of his grief, of the images and memories of his brother...of Samira. Of the way she had looked at him just before she’d married his brother.
His heart flared as he stalked towards the stables, looking for his favourite horse. Mavia, a true queen like her namesake was regal, strong, proud and determined, and by far the best in his stable.
She greeted him like a jilted lover and he would have expected nothing less. He really shouldn’t have been away from Alhafa for so long. But within moments she was nudging him with her head and demanding the affection he was always willing to give her.
He made short work of her saddle, itching to ride, and he launched himself into the desert just as the sun began to rise and the moon and stars to set. He raced them up a dune and out into the far reaches of the desert—his back to both the oasis, Alhafa and Burami.
He wanted nothing but sand and sky, no past, present or future, just the way his pulse beat to the rhythm set by Mavia. He ignored the sweat on his brow, the fire in his thighs and the ache in his soul as they crested the dune and soared down the other side.
But his mind refused to let up. Doubts, fears, shadows and ghosts rose up around him like a wave of sand before the storm. For three years he’d rode the pain, the grief, the guilt and anger at both Faizan and Samira for their choices, bearing it in silence and in secret. He’d tried to bend and shape himself away from the wanton playboy he’d been and into even half of the leader his brother would have been, and theonetime he’d slipped, the one weakness he’d given into...
Star.
Her name was like a prayer and a curse.
Only she was the one who would fall fowl of it. That her freedom was the price of his selfishness was nothing short of a tragedy. Everything about her, the bright, effervescent positivity, the gentle soothing babble of words, her enthusiasm, her hope-filled romantic belief...he would have to watch all of those things be dimmed by royal duty and etiquette. He would have to see her denied the freedoms she so clearly took for granted. He would have to see her caged.
How would he ever bear the guilt of doing to her what had been done to him?
