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“It is a gift,” he said slowly, “to have such dreams, Ariel. A gift to be allowed to want things. You should not feel ashamed.”
His own desires were not allowed.
“I think I understand you better now. My mother... She might be my style icon. But... We are not close. Not really. What happened with my father was too difficult. She was heartbroken by his actions. They separated. And then he died. And it was all just awful. Layers upon layers of heartbreak. For what? So that he could have money and power. He did not love us more than that.” She took a shuddering breath. “And then he died. He didn’t even get to spend the money. Not much of it. He died without family. I think my mother felt broken by that. Truly. To where even spending time with me became painful. Because I reminded her of the time that was spent in your country. Of my father’s pursuits. Of that which became more important than us. And the lives of your family. Riyaz has been in a dungeon for the last fifteen years, and I think that you still may have a stronger bond with him than I do with my mother.”
“It is a tragedy. All around. On every front. But I will see it restored.”
“When do these lessons begin?” She finished her cup of coffee and poured herself another.
“Now.”
“Please do let me finish my coffee.”
“You can bring it with you.”
Her eyes flickered, but the corners of her mouth turned upward. “I don’t see a to-go cup.”
“Bring the fine china. Much more eco-friendly than a disposable cup anyway.
Her heart was racing. There was something about the conversation they’d just had that set her alight. And now she was being ushered into a massive room with windows floor to ceiling, with the promise that Cairo would be with her shortly.
It was early yet, so the sun wasn’t half as punishing is it would become later. She could see the bright and arid desert below, and something began to throb between her thighs. Shame ignited within her, and she looked back and saw Cairo, and the feeling intensified. She’d had a host of erotic dreams last night. The kinds of images that had never plagued her before. Not once.
It was unendurable. Maybe it was because the specter of the fact that she would...
That she would presumably be sleeping with Riyaz loomed over her head.
She knew about sex. She was a woman in the world, after all. She worked in an industry that was practically saturated in sexuality. Naked models were always strewn about backstage off the catwalks, and she did fittings on beautiful people in every position along the gender spectrum all the time. She simply didn’t react to it. It was part of work. Meanwhile, they were all sleeping with each other in various combinations, and seemed to take it quite casually. Ditto the commentary on it. She was often treated to graphic details about somebody’s sexual exploits.
And yet, it had remained theoretical for her. She had attributed it to early trauma and all of that. The fact that she had been bound to a man that she didn’t choose from the time she was a child. Oh, yes, she had given herself a great many reasons for why her sexuality was just a little bit dampened.
Except she was beginning to wonder if that was the case. Or if it had simply gone into hiding until she could see Cairo again.
Because she still remembered that day. That sun-drenched day in the desert...
Was that why even the desert aroused her?
Was it because of him? That was the most disturbing thought she’d ever had.
She heard decisive footsteps behind her and she turned to see Cairo step into the room. “It is a good view,” he said.
“Yes. A great view of the landscape that wants to kill me.”
“It doesn’t want to kill you. It doesn’t think of you at all. But if you were to walk into its jaws, it would not hesitate to swallow you whole.”
There was something about those words. Something about the way they landed. Like a pomegranate seed at the center of her chest. And then it began to expand. As if it was growing into an entire tree. Blossoming inside of her, twisting and divining throughout her entire body. She felt invaded. By his words. By his scent. By his presence. “The wedding ceremony in Nazul lasts for three days. The bride and groom meet one another at the altar, and they extend their hands.”
Without thinking, she moved her right hand forward.
“Not your right,” he said. “The left. That is the hand for making vows. Unbreakable promises.” He reached out with his left hand and took hers. He turned his palm slightly, then wrapped his fingers around hers, and reflexively she did the same. Then with his right hand he took a silken scarf from his pocket. “When the bride and groom take hands like this, their hands are then tethered together.”
She remembered this. The silk scarf. Red and brilliant, behind the display of wedding jewelry he had shown her at the palace.
She’d been hurt that he’d shown it to her. She’d felt like he was reminding her that she was marrying Riyaz.
And not him.
But now he was standing before her, holding the scarf. And she couldn’t breathe. “It is symbolic of the fact that the words that you speak will bind you,” he continued. “That even if you release your hold, it is those words that hold you there. The bride and groom do not kiss. They speak vows, the scarf is tied. And then...” He reached out and pressed his thumb against her forehead. “With your thoughts.” Then his thumb slid down to her lips, and her breath caught. “With your words.” And then down yet again to the center of her breasts. Her breath froze. “With your heart. Serve me only.”
