Читать книгу Postcards From… Collection - Maisey Yates - Страница 22
ОглавлениеA SMALL RECEPTION party had lined up to welcome Prince Zahir and his new wife when they arrived back at Medira Palace. As Zahir swept them through the massive doors, Anna forced herself to smile at everyone, especially when she saw Lana and Layla, standing on tiptoes trying to get a better look at them. They looked so excited it made her want to cry.
Little more than twenty-four hours had passed since their marriage ceremony, since they had stood side by side in the chapel in Dorrada and made their vows. But it had been long enough to spell out just what sort of a marriage it would be. Hollow and empty and desperately lonely. Long enough to firmly dash any hopes she might have foolishly fostered that they could ever be a real couple, come together as husband and wife, as lovers.
It was also a marriage where she was going to have to be constantly on her guard, hide her true feelings from Zahir. Because to show him even a glimmer of what was in her heart would be emotional suicide. She could hardly bring herself to examine the insanity of her own feelings, let alone expose them to the cold and cruel claws of her husband.
Her wedding night had been miserably sad, plagued by fitful dreams and long periods of wakefulness in a bed that had seemed increasingly empty as the hours of darkness had dragged by. Forcing herself to go down to breakfast this morning had taken all the will power she possessed but she’d known she had to face Zahir sometime. Somehow she had to cover up her broken heart. But as it turned out she’d been met, not by her husband, but with a note presented on a silver salver and written in Zahir’s bold hand, stating that she was to meet him at the airport in two hours’ time. That they would be flying back to Nabatean without delay. And that was it. No explanation as to where he had been all night, where he was now. No apology or excuses of any kind.
Because, as far as Zahir was concerned, she didn’t deserve any explanations. She was now his property—by dint of their marriage, he had effectively bought her, no matter how it had been dressed up with fancy ceremonies and profuse congratulations. Now she belonged to him, in the same way as a herd of camel or an Arabian stallion. Except she was of considerably less use. If she couldn’t satisfy him in bed, couldn’t give him an heir, then, other than the connection with Europe that came with her position, what purpose did she actually serve?
No doubt Zahir was wondering the same thing. No doubt that was the reason he hadn’t come to her bed last night and the reason he had totally ignored her on the flight to Nabatean, preferring the company of his laptop instead. The reason why his mood was as black as thunder as he briskly moved past the reception party and headed straight down the maze of corridors that lead to his private quarters.
Anna stood in the echoing reception chamber and looked around her, breathing in the foreign air of this gilded cage. Here she was in her new role, her new life. And she had no idea what she was supposed to do with it.
Declining the offer of refreshments, she allowed herself to be shown to the suite of rooms that had been assigned to her and Zahir. The grand marital bedroom had a raised bed centre-stage, like some sort of mocking altar, and the only slightly less grand bedroom, which she was solemnly informed was her personal room, just served to increase her sense of isolation, filled her with misery. What sort of marriage needed separate bedrooms right from the off? Sadly, she already knew the answer to that.
Wandering downstairs again, she found herself in one of the many empty salons and sat down on a window seat that overlooked a verdant courtyard. Darkness had fallen, the night having arrived with indecent haste in this part of the world, and the courtyard was floodlit, the palm trees and the fountain illuminated with a ghostly orange glow.
Anna felt for her phone in her handbag. She needed a distraction to stop herself from bursting into tears or running screaming into the wilderness of the desert, or both. Clicking on the site of a national newspaper in Dorrada, she scrolled through the headlines until she found what she was looking for. Just as she had expected, there was extensive coverage of the wedding of Princess Annalina to Prince Zahir of Nabatean, gushing descriptions of the beautiful ceremony, the sumptuous banquet and the glittering ball that had followed. Other European papers hadn’t stinted either, all showing the official photographs accompanied by the obligatory text describing the couple’s happy day.
Anna studied the images. She and Zahir, standing side by side, her arm linked through his. She could see the tension in her face, that the smile was in danger of cracking. And Zahir, tall, commanding, looking impossibly handsome with his shoulders back and his head held high. But his expression was masked, closed, impossible to fathom, no matter how much Anna stared at it. She was left wondering just who this man was that she had married.
She was about to put her phone away when a headline on one of the sidebars caught her eye. The shot of a battered face, captured by a zoom lens, by the look of it, was accompanied by the headline: Prince Henrik arrives at hospital with facial injuries.
A cold dread swept over her. With a shaky hand, she clicked on the link.
Prince Henrik of Ebsberg was seen arriving at a Valduz hospital on the night of his ex-fiancée’s wedding, sporting what appeared to be significant facial injuries. One can only speculate as to how he acquired them.
Prince Henrik is known to have attended the grand ball thrown to celebrate the marriage of Princess Annalina of Dorrada to Prince Zahir of Nabatean. Could it be that the two men came to blows over the beautiful blonde princess? If so, it would appear that Prince Zahir’s reputation as a formidable opponent is fully justified. Neither Prince Henrik nor Prince Zahir was available for comment.
No! Anna’s heart plummeted inside her. Had Zahir done this to Henrik? She didn’t want to believe it but her gut was telling her it had to be him. Head spinning, she desperately tried to think up some other explanation, figure out what could possibly have happened.
As European royals, the King and Queen of Ebsberg had been present at the wedding but Anna had been thankful, at that point, to see that their son, Henrik, hadn’t joined them. She had completely forgotten about him until much later at the ball when out of the corner of her eye she had seen him arrive, looking unsteady on his feet, as if he had already been drinking. Having absolutely no desire to speak to him, she had deliberately kept out of his way, relieved that the relatively late hour meant she could legitimately slip away before he could corner her. But had Zahir spoken to him? Deliberately sought him out? Had it always been his intention to beat up her ex-fiancé?
The barbaric thought made Anna feel physically sick. But there was only one way to find out if it was true.
Leaping to her feet, she set off to find Zahir, pausing only briefly to try and get her bearings, to remember the way to his private quarters. With her pace quickening along with her temper, she flew along the echoing corridors, finally arriving at his door breathless and panting with anger. Rapping loudly on the panelling, she hurtled in without waiting for a reply.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ She advanced towards him, brandishing her phone before her like a weapon.
Rising from where he had been seated at a computer, Zahir met her head-on, towering before her. ‘I could ask the same of you.’ Deep-set eyes flashed dangerously black. ‘I don’t take kindly to being ambushed in my own study.’
‘And I don’t suppose Prince Henrik takes kindly to being beaten up by some vicious thug.’ Trembling with animosity, Anna thrust the phone in his face. Taking it from her, Zahir gave it a cursory glance before tossing it back. Anna fumbled to catch it. ‘Well? What do you have to say?’ She could feel the hysteria rising in the face of his silence and the mounting realisation that she was right—Zahir had assaulted Henrik. ‘Do you know about this? Did you do this?’
‘I fail to see that this is any of your concern.’
‘Not my concern?’ Her voice screeched with incredulity. ‘How can you say that? It’s obvious that you attacked Henrik because of his association with me!’
‘Trust me, there are any number of reasons I could have hit that creature.’
‘So you admit it, then? You did assault Henrik?’
Zahir shrugged and his dismissive gesture only served to pour more fuel onto Anna’s fury.
‘And that’s it? That’s all you have to say on the matter?’ She threw back her head so he couldn’t escape her livid gaze. ‘Aren’t you at least going to offer some explanation, show some concern for what you’ve done?’
‘I think you’re showing enough concern for both of us.’
The air crackled between them, stirring the shadows of this cave-like room.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Some might say that you are unduly concerned about someone you should no longer have any attachment to.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘That you are displaying the behaviour of someone who still has feelings for this man.’
‘No...’
‘Are you regretting the past? Is that what it is? Do you wish you were married to him instead of me?’
‘No, no, it’s not that at all.’
‘Isn’t it, Annalina? Are you sure? You’ve told me yourself that it was Henrik who broke off your engagement. You still want him, don’t you? That’s the reason you are displaying such irrational behaviour.’
Irrational behaviour? Anna’s eyes glittered back at him like shards of glass. She knew what he was doing: he was trying to make out that she was overreacting—that, even though he was the one who had committed the crime, she was the one who should be examining her motives. Well, she wasn’t having it. Positioning herself squarely in front of him, she clenched her teeth, ready to fire at him with both barrels.
‘Has it ever occurred to you, Zahir...’ she swallowed audibly ‘...that I may be displaying the behaviour of someone who’s worried that they have married a monster?’
A terrible silence fell between them. For a moment neither of them moved, their eyes locked in a lethal clash that Anna couldn’t break but that tore into her soul. She could hear the roar of blood in her ears, feel the heavy thud of her heartbeat, but she was paralysed, Zahir’s painfully piercing black stare holding her captive as surely as if she’d been nailed to the ground.
‘And that’s what you think, is it?’ His voice was lethally low, barely more than a murmur. But it carried the weight of the loudest scream. ‘You think that I am a monster?’
‘I didn’t actually say that.’
‘Well, you are not alone. The Beast of Nabatean—isn’t that what they call me?’
‘No, I mean...’
‘Don’t bother to try and deny it. I know full well how the European bourgeoisie perceive me.’
‘But not me, Zahir. I would never call you such a thing.’ Anna had heard the insulting title—of course she had—but a loathing of prejudice and bigotry, and maybe a smattering of fear, had made her dismiss it. Until now. ‘This isn’t about what other people call you. And it’s nothing to do with how I feel about Henrik. It’s about you going around beating people up.’
‘And you think that’s what I do?’
‘Well, what am I supposed to think?’
‘I’d like you to leave now.’ He turned away and she was suddenly presented with the impenetrable wall of his back.
‘What? No!’ Horrified, she reached forward, her fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. ‘I’m not going until we have discussed this, until you have heard me out.’
‘I said I want you to leave.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘Who knows what might happen, Annalina? How I might react.’ Swinging round, he closed the space between them with a single step, then towered over her, his fixed gaze as black as a raven’s wing. ‘Are you prepared to take that risk? Are you prepared to incur the wrath of such a monster as me?’ His words were clearly designed to intimidate her and it was working, at least to start with, Anna’s throat drying, her hands shaking from the sheer force of his might.
But as she continued to stare at him a different reaction started to seep in. Suddenly her breasts felt heavy, her nipples contracting, her belly clenching with a fierceness that rippled down to her core, holding it tight in its grip. Suddenly her whole body was alive to him. And it was nothing to do with fear.
She watched as his pupils dilated, her own doing the same in response. So he felt it too. Anger still pulsed between them but now it was laced with hunger, a carnal craving that was growing more powerful with each suspenseful second.
She forced herself to swallow. How could she want this man so badly? It didn’t make any sense. How could she have given her heart to a man capable of such savagery? Capable of hurting her so badly? The wounds inflicted on their wedding night, still raw and bleeding, were a painful testament to that. But a monster? No. Arrogant, insufferable, formidable... Anna could reel off a list of his shortcomings. But loyal too and fiercely protective. She had seen the way he was with his brother, glimpsed the burden of pain and suffering caused by his parents’ tragic deaths before he had pulled down the shutters and pushed her away. She had heard the pride in his voice whenever he spoke of his country. No, Zahir was no monster.
‘Well?’ He bit out the word but there was an edge to his voice that betrayed him, angered him. He extended his arm, roughly clasping the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair to bring her closer to him. ‘I’m still waiting for your answer.’
His breath was hot on her face and Anna’s tongue darted to wet her lips. ‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’
‘So it would seem.’ He moved fractionally closer until their bodies were touching. Heat roared between them, the unmistakable stirring beneath Zahir’s trousers making Anna tremble violently. ‘But what does that tell me? That you don’t think that I’m a monster? Or that right now you don’t care?’
‘I’m not frightened of you, Zahir, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Hmm. And yet you are shaking. Why is that, Annalina?’
‘I d-don’t know.’
‘Maybe it’s that you crave the beast in me.’ He moved closer still, pressing the length of his body against her, all heat and flexed muscle, hard bones beneath tautly drawn flesh. And raw, potent, sexual energy.
‘And if I do?’
‘Then perhaps it is my duty to satisfy that craving.’
Finally his lips came down to claim hers with a punishing kiss that sucked the air from her lungs, pumped the blood wildly around her body. He plundered her mouth, his tongue seeking and taking, his breath feverishly hot as he panted into her. It was a kiss that left Anna reeling from its force, melting beneath its pressure. She gasped as he finally pulled away, feeling her lips engorging with blood before he was kissing her again, moving his hands to span the small of her back, pressing her firmly against his erection. Complete abandonment washed over her as the most gloriously erotic feeling took over, obliterating all thought. Other than that Zahir had to make love to her. Now.
When their lips finally pulled apart she worked her hands around his waist to the strip of bare skin between his shirt and the low-slung pants, feeling him buck satisfyingly beneath her touch. Easily sliding her hands beneath the waistband, she slipped them lower, letting out a guttural gasp of longing when she realised he was naked underneath. Her fingertips skittered over the bare skin of his buttocks, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them, the muscles clenching tightly beneath her touch. He felt so good, so gloriously hard, tight and male that Anna realised she was panting with excitement, her breath coming in short gasps.
Sliding her hands down further, she traced the underside of his buttocks and when she firmly cupped both cheeks in her hands, squeezing them tightly with a strength born of pure need, she was rewarded with a sharp hiss of breath and a bucking movement that thrust the shape of his mighty erection against her stomach.
Anna let out a low moan. Reaching up on tiptoe, she tried to make herself as tall as possible so she could feel his erection where she so desperately wanted it—against her groin. But Zahir went one better, lifting her off her feet as if she were weightless, one ankle boot dropping to the ground with a thud. Wrapping her legs around his waist, the glorious feel of him was now pressing against her sex and she closed her eyes against the thrill as she clung dizzily to him, her arms around his neck, feeling him turn and move towards his bedroom.
She opened them again as he set her down, wobbling unsteadily on her feet as she watched him tear his shirt over his head, his breathing heavy with need. It was dark in this cave-like room, the shutters closed against the night, the bed no more than a low shape on the floor. Stripped to the waist, Zahir brought Anna towards him again, sweeping her hair over one shoulder, nuzzling her neck with his lips as his hands slid the zipper of her dress down her back.
‘You want this, Anna?’
It was the same question he had asked her in the log cabin before it had all gone horribly wrong. But she wasn’t going to mess it up this time. Want was too small a word to describe the fervour she felt for Zahir right now. It was an overpowering, all-consuming madness. Something she couldn’t bring herself to examine. For now, a simple yes would have to suffice.
She groaned the word hotly against his shoulder as he tugged at her dress and it fell to the ground. Now he was undoing the clasp of her bra, releasing her breasts until they were caught, heavy and aching with need, by his caressing palms, his thumb stroking over nipples that had shrivelled into hard peaks. Anna’s hands strayed down to his loose-fitting trousers again, tugging at them until they were low over his hips, finally falling to the ground. He was naked, the force of his erection escaping at last, throbbing between them.
‘Say it again, Annalina.’ He ground out the words, one hand reaching for her panties, pulling them down her legs, taking the remaining boot with them.
‘I want you.’
With a guttural growl he swept her off her feet again, laying her down on the bed and positioning himself over her, his eyes shining like jet in the darkness as they raked over her face. With his jaw held fast, the sharp angles of his cheeks hollowed and shadowed, he looked magnificent. And he looked like a man on the edge.
‘You’re going to have to control me, Annalina.’ He lowered his body until it was held fractionally above her by the flexed columns of his arms, his mouth just a centimetre from her own. ‘Take me at the speed you are comfortable with.’
Anna gulped. She had totally lost control of herself—what hope did she have of controlling him? And ‘comfortable’ was not a word she was interested in. She wanted mind-blowing, all-consuming sex. Speech had all but deserted her but she did manage to drag up something that she suddenly knew to be true.
‘I trust you, Zahir.’
This produced a stab of surprise that had his eyes widen then narrow again. Zahir hesitated, as if about to say something, then he changed his mind, moving his hand between her legs instead, pushing her thighs apart so that he could slide his fingers inside her.
Anna shuddered with pleasure at his touch, his fingers working to intensify her arousal, increase the wetness that slicked her core. As her whole body began to shake, she reached behind his back to steady herself, to stop him from moving away, her hands desperately gripping on to him. Her legs splayed wider, her back arching into his touch.
‘God, Annalina. You have no idea what you do to me.’ He growled deeply before he took her mouth again, his tongue licking and tasting at the same speed as his finger stroked and rubbed. ‘You need to say now if you want this to stop.’
‘Don’t stop, Zahir. Do it—make love to me.’
‘Uh-uh.’ With another thickly uttered growl, Zahir withdrew his hand and, reaching for Anna’s, guided it to his member, curling her fist around the silky, heated girth of him. ‘You are in control, Anna. Remember that. Whatever happens now is down to you.’
Oh, dear Lord. Anna wasn’t prepared for this. She had fantasised about this moment for so long, yearned, craved and ached for it almost since the first moment she had clapped eyes on Zahir. But she had stressed about it too, agonised over what might happen, the dreadful accusation that had been implanted in her mind by Henrik refusing to be totally banished. But in every imagined scenario it had been Zahir taking command, taking her any way he wanted to, dominating her the way he had when they’d been in the cabin. Not that that hadn’t been indescribably, erotically mind-blowing. But it had held an element of fear too.
This was different. As she started to slide her hand up and down the thick length of him, felt him shudder beneath her touch, any traces of fear subsided. He was big, so astonishingly, eye-wateringly enormous, but she wasn’t scared. Just mindlessly high with exhilaration, as if he was a drug she could never get enough of.
And she knew she was ready for him, ready in mind and body.
Shifting her bottom, she spread her legs wider, positioning the head of his shaft exactly where she wanted it. Zahir froze, not moving, not even breathing, his whole body rigid with unspoken, unleashed power. She started to make small, circling movements with him, pressing him against her most sensitive spot, small mews escaping her lips. She was so wet now, so aroused. She paused, seeking his eyes, eyes that were black with desire, as drugged and drowning as her own.
‘Now, Zahir.’ She whispered the command hoarsely.
He didn’t need telling twice. With his arms braced on either side of her head, he lowered his hips, plunging the head of his member into Anna’s wet, tight, sensitised core. Anna gasped, her muscles clenching around him, holding him firm as her legs drew up, her hands clawing at his back.
‘Annalina?’
‘More, Zahir. I want more.’
‘Oh, God.’ With a primal groan, Zahir obeyed, pushing more of his length into her with a slick, hot, juddering force. He paused again as Anna’s legs clamped around him, her nails digging into his flesh.
‘All of it, Zahir. I want to feel all of you.’ She had no idea who this dominatrix was—who had taken over her body—just knew that the control was intoxicating, banishing her fears. To have a man like Zahir obeying her commands was wildly exhilarating. Mind-blowing. And the feel of him inside her was indescribably, gloriously wonderful.
With one final, punishing thrust he was there, fully inside her, firmly gripped by muscles that pulsed and contracted with ripples of ecstasy. With a whimper of abandonment, Anna lifted her head and flung her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth down to meet hers, plunging her fingers into the thick mass of his hair to keep him there. With their breath and saliva mingled, their bodies sealed with sweat and joined in the most carnal of ways, Zahir began to move. Slowly at first, easing his length out of her, almost to the tip, before thrusting in again. But, as Anna urged him on with rasped, pleading words of need, he took over, the control now firmly his, pumping harder and faster, his breathing heavy and harsh, as again and again he plundered her body, each thrust bringing her further and further towards the oblivion of orgasm.
‘Zahir!’ She gasped his name as the tremendous sensation built and built until she could take no more, until she was at the very brink, hanging on with an agonising ecstasy that couldn’t last any longer. ‘Please...please...’
‘Say it, Anna. What do you want?’
‘You, Zahir.’ Anna let out a whimper that ended in a strangled scream. ‘I want you to come, now, with me.’
Her body started to shudder, trembling violently as she surrendered to the tremendous surge of sensation that flooded her from head to toe. She heard Zahir’s breathing grow hoarse, felt his muscles flex and jerk as he pounded into her with the final delirious thrusts, his beautiful face contorted with the concentration and effort. For a split second he stopped, holding himself rigid, and then he was there, his orgasm intensifying hers, taking them both to unknown realms of euphoria. Anna cried out, totally lost in the moment.
But it was Zahir’s primal roar that echoed round the room.
