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“What do you want?”
Him,she thought dizzily. She wanted him.
But because that look in his eyes was too much, and all of this was still new—-
KICK.
The sheikh grunted as he fell to the carpet, completely taken by surprise by Kyria’s reaction.
A horrified moan escaped her.
She had just kicked the sheikh out of his own bed.
To raise a hand against any member of the royal family was punishable by death, but more than that, it was the most shameful of all offenses for any person who considered himself loyal to the kingdom.
Kyria jumped off the bed and sank to her knees, head down. “I’m so sorry!” This was the end. She just knew it. She had hung up on him, slammed the door on him, slapped him, and now she had actually kicked him!
And yet...
Her head lifted at the strange, puzzling sound of the sheikh’s laughter, and Kyria was even more bemused when she saw Malik rising to his feet, a grin on his handsome face. Had she...kicked him so hard he had lost his mind?
He took her hand. “Up you go, milady...”
Kyria allowed the sheikh to pull her up to her feet. “You’re n-not mad?”
He shook his head. “Never with you.” His tone was gentle. “Remember?”
Her eyes teared. “Even though I kicked you?”
“Even then.”
“And I slapped you and slammed the door on your face—-”
Wincing, he cut her off hastily, saying, “No matter what you do.” And while he did mean that, Malik would rather not have Kyria list her transgressions. If she did, it only made things seem more impossible between them, and he would rather not think about that.
Right now, and after all those goddamn years of holding himself back—-
Kyria impulsively threw herself at him. “Oh, Malik.” And again, her voice was muffled with her face pressed to his shoulder. She was never the impulsively affectionate type with anyone, and even with Altair and Vanna, the smallest part of her had always held herself back, in the event that either of them would realize they didn’t actually love her—-
But Malik was different.
With Malik, she had always been sure.
He would always love her, would never leave her.
She had known that even as a child, and now it made Kyria wonder...if even then she had known—-
“Malik.”
His whispered name, underlined by worry and uncertainty, made the sheikh pull back so he could look into her eyes.
“If I tell you,” she said unevenly, “that I might have unconsciously known, even as a child, you could never be just a brother to me...” She swallowed hard. “Would you think I’m crazy?”
He slowly shook his head.
“Why?”
“Because it was the same for me,” he said simply.
