Читать книгу Midnight on the Sands - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 17

WHEN the last shudder of pleasure escaped her lips, Zahir stood from the bed. Katharine rolled to her side and watched him. He was still half-dressed, and physically unsatisfied, his erection evident, pressing against his pants.

“Come here,” she said, more than ready for that next step. He’d brought her to orgasm three times, and it was time, not just for his pleasure, but for her to have him. She didn’t know why, but it felt possessive. Like he would belong to her when she had him inside of her.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you? Not that I haven’t enjoyed watching you take your pleasure.”

“Come and get some of your own,” she said, not entirely understanding his cryptic statement.

“I’ve had plenty of it this evening. Tasting you, touching you, that was pleasure enough.”

“Zahir … “

He turned away from her, the moonlight filtering through the window, catching the raised ridges of flesh that marred his back. “You are a virgin?”

“I … at this point only a technicality.”

“You should remain that way then.”

“Isn’t that up to me?” she asked, clutching the bedcovers to her bare breasts and pushing herself into a sitting position.

“And me. If I do not wish … “

“You don’t wish to be with me?” She looked down at the clear outline of his arousal. “I call foul on that.”

“Tell me, is this virginity of yours a part of my marriage bargain?”

She felt heat creep into her cheeks. “More or less.”

“Is that why you’re still a virgin? Because you thought you might need it with Malik gone?”

“I … It’s complicated. But I would be lying if I said that had nothing to do with it.” It was shaming to admit. She’d never truly imagined any man would question it. Royals tended to have that view of the world. A virgin bride was important, and her being able to qualify as royal bride material had always been essential. A part of her purpose. The biggest part.

It had been ingrained in her that it was the right thing. That it was one of her commodities.

The thought made her sick now. It wasn’t something she dwelled on, not usually. Why would she? She hadn’t exactly had suitors banging down her door and part of her had been afraid that, if she’d chosen to seek out relationships, it would make her father start looking for someone else to sell her to.

She’d been enjoying her reprieve too much to let it end. But when marriage to Zahir had come up as her best option for protecting Austrich, she’d been ready.

“What if you need it later?” he asked, his tone dark.

“I’ll be divorced,” she said. “No one will expect it.”

Her throat tightened. Was she really doing this? All but begging the man to have sex with her? Was she really thinking of sleeping with him now, divorcing him and finding someone else later?

Rage shook her, mingling with a slow, rolling shiver of shame that seemed to start in her stomach and move through her limbs, making her feel weak. Angry. “Get out.”

He inclined his head. “As you wish, latifa.”

He turned and walked out. She wanted to call him back. So she could scream at him. So she could make love with him.

She lay back down and curled her knees into her chest. She’d never felt so out of place in her own body. A body that was still humming from his touch, still lit up with pleasure, from all he had done. And inside … inside was raw. Tender and bleeding.

She thought back to the intensity she’d seen on his face when he’d first walked into the bedroom.

I’m here to show you that there are still ways I can put any man to shame.

He hadn’t been here to prove it to her. He’d been proving it to himself. On the heels of the comment that journalist had made … and then Katharine had defended him. His pride had been on the line and he’d used her body to restore it.

He’d given her pleasure, more than she’d ever imagined possible, but it hadn’t been hers. It had been his. His retribution. His proof.

She pounded her fist on her pillow and let out a growl of frustration. She had been his therapy yet again. She had proven useful.

Earlier today she might have accepted that. She’d been helpful, after all. Worthwhile. But that wasn’t what tonight had been for her. It wasn’t what she wanted it to be. She hadn’t been out to prove her worth, she’d been in it for herself. For the driving need that made her body ache and her heart race.

But she didn’t want to be his bandage. She’d wanted to be his woman. His lover.

And now she was just convinced that there was truly nothing behind the rock wall he’d built around his soul. Nothing but darkness.

Avoidance, it turned out, was easy in the Hajari palace, as long as it was what Katharine wished.

Zahir had hardly seen her in the week and a half since the impromptu press conference. Since he’d come to her room and tortured himself by inches while he tasted and caressed her gorgeous, smooth body.

All he had been able to do was worship her perfection. Because he had not allowed himself to take. He had been too afraid. Of what might happen. Of what he might do or say. Of harming her in some way. Of what might happen if the rock-hard barrier of his control burst and all of the images came pouring through while he was at his most vulnerable.

He had not allowed himself to seek women out. Had not allowed himself to remember the kind of oblivion sex could bring, because oblivion was not kind to him anymore. It made him lose everything. He could not do that to her. Lose himself in her. He would not be a man if he were willing to do such a thing.

He might harm her in the worst case scenario, and in the best, she would find herself without that bargaining chip she had in her virginity.

A shiver of disgust ran through him. He didn’t see it that way, but his barbarian ancestors certainly had. His father, it seemed, had too. He doubted Malik had cared one way or the other. His brother had had such a laid-back manner, such an open acceptance and ease to him.

He was not Malik. That was for certain. Katharine would have been better off with Malik. Or with him, if the attack hadn’t happened. An ache spread through him, fierce, painful. It was the first time he’d allowed himself to think of what might have been if he and Katharine had been able to meet before the attack. If they had simply been a man and a woman.

“But that isn’t what happened,” he said into the empty space of his office.

And all of his reasons for stopping himself from having sex with her remained.

But his body was punishing him for it. He woke hard and aching in the middle of the night, his mind filled with visions of her pleasure-clouded eyes, full, parted lips reddened from kissing. That soft, curvy body. Perfect in every way, nothing to mar to her luscious beauty. The sound of her soft sighs filling his ears.

It was better than images of exploding grenades and the sounds of chaos and screaming.

The door to his office opened and he knew it was Katharine. Anyone else would have knocked. Katharine didn’t behave like everyone else. She didn’t bow and scrape and defer to his every command.

“We leave for Austrich tomorrow.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Well, I thought we should formulate a plan.” She eyed him as though it was his fault there wasn’t one, her pert chin angled out, her lips pursed.

He put his palms flat on his desk and stood, leaning in slightly. Her scent caught him, so warm and inviting. “I am not the one who has been doing the avoiding.”

Her mouth opened and closed, reminiscent of a goldfish. “I have not been avoiding you.”

“Well, you haven’t invaded my bedroom or my gym in nearly two weeks, and it’s been the same amount of time since you’ve invaded my office. Not only that, but you haven’t taken Lilah out for a ride. You’ve been hiding.”

“I don’t hide,” she said stiffly.

“Don’t you?” He looked at her haughty pose, at those steely-green eyes of hers. “You’re hiding now. Behind this facade. Emotionless, forceful, but I know the real woman. I’ve held her in my arms while she came apart with her pleasure.”

Color flooded her pale cheeks. “Just because you gave me an orgasm doesn’t mean you know me.”

“That’s not why I know you.”

He didn’t know why he said it, why he pressed. Except that he wanted her to admit that there was something between them. That there was heat. That she was more than the uppity princess that had stormed his castle over a month ago.

Because she was. He was certain of it.

It should not matter. Whoever she is, she’ll be gone when Alexander is of legal age. She’ll never be yours.

And he didn’t want her to be. It was a cruel joke, the mere thought of it. Because she was perfection. She was light and open and beneath that spine of steel, there was strength.

He was darkness. And he wanted to remain in the shadows. How could he do anything else when no one else involved in the attack was able to do anything? They were gone. They could never move on from it. Why should he? How could he? It seemed his duty, his responsibility, to cling to the memory, but it kept him apart.

“Why do you know me then?” she asked, her full lips turned down into a frown.

“Because … you’ve given yourself to me.”

It was true. She had. She was the image in his mind now, instead of grenades. When the crowd surrounded their town car in the market, he saw her face.

“I haven’t given myself to you.” She wrinkled her nose, as though the very idea disgusted her.

“I didn’t seem so repellent to you the other night in your bed,” he said, anger roaring through him immediately.

“That isn’t what I mean! Obviously I don’t … Obviously I … I don’t belong to you.”

“No, Katharine, you don’t. You could never belong to any man. It is far too passive a place for you to be. And you are anything but passive.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do. I have the internal battle scars to prove it. I simply meant you have taken time with me. Taken the time to try and …” He didn’t like the word help. It seemed weak to him. And yet he’d needed it. And she had given it. “You have helped me.”

She looked down. “I needed to.”

His chest felt tight. “So that I can make a show of being a strong Regent to your country?”

She nodded, the motion jerky. “Of course.” She looked up, her green eyes wells of emotion so deep he could not see the end of them. And he didn’t want to. “Remember that it’s much colder in Austrich than it is here. The air is thinner, too.”

“Naturally.”

“What time do we leave tomorrow?”

“If we leave in the morning we should arrive with daylight left in Austrich. Eight o’clock?”

She forced a smile. “I guess coordinating wasn’t all that complicated.”

Maybe it wasn’t. But everything else was. Zahir wasn’t the kind of man who did complicated. Everything in his life was simple. Get out of bed, get through the day, try to find some rest in the sleep that always tried to elude him.

Not since Katharine had come. And he could truly say he didn’t want things back the way they were before she came.

But he wasn’t sure he could stand six years of denying himself while she lived in the palace, as his wife. Untouchable and more tempting than any woman he had ever encountered.

Green trees, capped with pristine white snow blurred together as their private plane landed on the airstrip that was positioned behind the palace in Austrich’s capital.

The deep saturation of color, after coming out of the washed-out landscape of Hajar was almost blinding in its intensity. Surreal as Katharine descended from the steps and onto the tarmac, her high-heeled shoe making contact with the icy ground.

It was never quiet in the desert. There was always the buzz of an insect or the sound of the wind skipping over the sand. But in Austrich, the mountains and trees offered insulation from noise, and brought a kind of silence that bordered on the surreal.

“You all right?” she asked, turning to face Zahir, who was looking at the sky, the gray, overcast sky that must seem completely foreign to him.

“Of course.”

“You haven’t … I mean, I know you and Malik went to school in Europe, but you haven’t traveled outside of Hajar in … “

“Five years,” he said, turning his focus to the craggy peaks that surrounded them.

“It’s very different here. I remember the first time I went to Hajar I was in shock. I felt like I was right next to the sun.”

He looked at her then, his dark eyes inscrutable. “You belong here.”

“It’s in my blood.”

She knew he meant she didn’t belong in Hajar. Didn’t belong with him. As much as she knew it, she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreignness that crept over her when she turned to face the castle, rising from the tall pine trees, towers gleaming in the faint glow of the sun.

This place, her home, it felt strange now. Stranger than it felt to be in Hajar.

“My father is expecting us.” She turned and strode to the limo, waiting to drive them the thousand or so paces to the castle.

She allowed the chauffeur to open the door for her and before Zahir got in on his side she blew out a hard breath and fought with the urge to cry or scream or something. Something that would tear into Austrich’s silence.

Something that would make her feel right.

She hadn’t felt right since that night in her room. She wasn’t entirely certain she’d felt right since the moment she’d walked into his office and proposed.

She closed her eyes. Had she even felt right before that? It had been a constant feeling, and she’d been used to it. But she wasn’t certain it was the way she was supposed to feel. She was finding something else in Hajar, and she couldn’t quite put a name to it.

The chill air from outside pierced the cocoon of warmth the limo offered, and Zahir slid inside beside her.

“Nice,” she said, touching the dark sleeve of his wool jacket.

“I haven’t had occasion to use it for quite a while.”

“Not a lot of heavy coat weather in Hajar.”

“No.”

He turned his focus to the passing scenery and Katharine closed her eyes, trying to shut it all out.

Far too soon, the car slowed and stopped in front of the main entrance of the palace.

“How is your father doing?” Zahir asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice choked. She hadn’t seen him in over a month and he wasn’t the kind of man who would admit to any frailty.

Their respective doors were opened for them in unison and they both stepped back out into the cold. Snow was falling now, sprinkling over the wide expanse of green lawn that dominated the palace courtyard.

There was no reticence in Zahir’s demeanor, but then, her father wasn’t a crowd. He strode ahead of her, his steps long and confident, and she tried to match them. Tried to feed off his strength, because for some reason, hers seemed to be failing.

She’d been treating Zahir like the enemy, because he’d hurt her, but she needed an ally now. Desperately.

The castle in Austrich was completely unlike the palace in Hajar. There were domestic staff everywhere, administrative personnel, visiting members of parliament and the occasional tour group. It was always busy, and it was never empty.

There were always flowers. And the most awful, gaudy garlands made of fresh vines and carnations strung over the public portions of the palace. High-gloss white marble floors and bright white, spotless walls with the matte impression of fleur de lis impressed upon them.

It felt foreign now, too, like the whole setting of the country had when she’d first stepped onto the tarmac. She moved a little bit closer to Zahir.

“This way,” she said, indicating which direction her father’s office was in. He would be there, waiting to greet her. Anything else would be far too casual. And anyway, this was a matter of State. Her wedding was about alliances and protection. Nothing more.

It would do her well to remember that.

They stopped in front of the heavy, dark walnut door that stood out in sharp contrast to the white walls, and Katharine took a deep breath, one she’d hoped would fortify her. It didn’t.

“Katharine.” Zahir touched her hand. “Look at me.”

She looked up into his eyes, at his handsome face.

You bring me back to myself.

That was how she felt, like he’d brought her back to herself. She took another breath, and this time, she did feel fortified.

“If you can storm my office like you did, you can certainly do this.”

She nodded and cleared her throat, knocking on the door with as much authority as she could muster. He was right. She had stormed his office. And then she’d moved in. She could do this.

“Yes?” Her father’s voice sounded thin coming through the door and it made her heart tighten. Because in so many ways she’d never truly thought of him as being human, mortal. But he was.

She pushed the door open and walked in. His office had always been different from the rest of the palace. Expansive, like everything else, but dark. Plush, navy blue carpets and dark wood paneling. He probably thought it gave it weight. It worked.

“Father, I would like to present Sheikh Zahir S’ad al Din, my future husband.”

Her father stood, and she noticed how shrunken his frame had become, how much more gray was streaked through his hair. “Sheikh Zahir, I am glad you decided to honor the agreement. Your family was always trusted by mine.”

It didn’t escape Katharine’s notice that it was Zahir her father addressed, not her.

Zahir nodded. “Katharine put forth a convincing argument.”

Her father arched an eyebrow. “Did she?”

Katharine gritted her teeth, fought against the burning feeling of … of injustice that was rolling through her. It was as though she wasn’t in the room. And now wasn’t the time to be angry with her father. Not when he was sick like he was. It wasn’t the time to see, so clearly, just how unimportant she truly was.

“She did. I said no, in fact, but she put forth some very good points.” Zahir looked at her, deferring to her. Her father looked even more surprised by that.

“It’s true,” she said, clearing her throat. And then she was lost for words, unable to find a way to say that she’d been brave or made good points in favor of the marriage. She just felt small. Insignificant. Everything she’d always feared she truly was.

Her father looked back at Zahir. “I can well imagine what might have convinced you.”

Bile rose in Katharine’s throat. “Excuse me, please, I need to … It was good to see you, Father.” She turned and walked out of the office, striding down the hall without pausing until she reached a segment of corridor that she knew was most likely to be vacant.

She leaned against the wall and took a breath, trying to undo the knot of pain that had gripped her heart.

How had she never realized? How had she never truly known just how little her father thought of her? She’d known he didn’t think she was capable of ruling, that he’d imagined her less because she was a woman. But she hadn’t realized that the quiet, insidious voice that whispered in her ear, told her how dangerously close she was to total insignificance, had been his voice. That it had been hidden, layered in every word he spoke.

Today it had been clear.

She heard heavy footsteps and she pushed away from the wall, schooling her face into a stoic expression. Zahir came around the corner, his left hand pressed against the wall, his jaw tight.

“I told him never to speak to you, or about you, that way again. Why didn’t you tell me, Katharine?”

“Tell you what?”

“What a raging bastard the man is.”

“I didn’t … I didn’t really realize. Until he started insinuating that I used my … body … to talk you into marriage.”

“You could walk away, you know.” His dark eyes were intent on hers, and for a moment, she wanted to take him up on that. To take his hand and walk out. Walk away.

“I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing it for Alexander. For my people. But I’m not going to worry about proving myself by doing it. Not anymore.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “I wanted him to see that I was … that I could be just as important. But he never will.”

“It’s different with the heirs. They need confidence. They need to understand the weight of their duties. They need to be prepared to lead. The spares like us … we are incidentals.”

“Were you?”

He looked behind her. “My parents were good to me. When I saw them. Malik was my father’s priority, and that is understandable in a sense.”

“But you’re the one ruling Hajar.”

He swallowed. “Yes. And you’re the one saving Austrich.”

She smiled at him, the motion a near impossibility. “When I have children, I won’t rank them like that. I refuse to do it.”

“I’ll never have children, so that isn’t an issue.”

“Never?”

“They would cry at the sight of me.”

“They would love you.”

The light in his eyes changed, a strange, deep sort of longing opening up behind it. It reached into her soul, tugged at her heart. In an instant, it was gone, his control returned. “I would not know how to love them.”

The bleak pain in his eyes nearly broke her. “You could, Zahir. You would.”

“You don’t know what it’s like in here.” He tapped his chest. “Empty. Thank God.”

“Because feeling hurts too much?”

“There’s hurt, and then there’s the feeling that your insides are being ripped into pieces and scattered throughout your body. Left to bleed, stay raw and blindingly painful forever. At some point … you become dead to it. And to everything else. Good and bad. But anything is better than that kind of pain.”

Her heart felt like it was tearing, mirroring what he had described. She put her hand on her chest. “But you still have pain. It finds you still. I’ve seen it. Why deny yourself good things, Zahir?”

“How can I accept all the things in life, my family, our guards, the innocent bystanders who were simply caught in the crossfire, will never have a chance to have.” His eyes were flat again, the connection lost.

He turned like he was going to leave, and she blurted out a question to keep him there. “So, what did my father say when you told him off?”

“Nothing. He is, perhaps, still in there choking on his ire. But he will not push. He needs me, remember?”

“He’s really not bad, Zahir. He has old, set ideas and tunnel vision ambition. He’s done wonderful things for the country. As a ruler, he’s a man of great compassion. As a father … not quite so much. But I respect all that he’s done here, and I support him in that wholly.”

“And I’m still going to help ensure that Austrich is protected.”

She couldn’t help but realize that he’d only named her country, and not his. That his priorities seemed to have shifted. People and not trade, right and not money.

But she suspected that truly, that had been in him from the beginning. He simply hadn’t been willing to reach in and find it.

Now he had.