“I’m just saying,” he purred as his pupils receded, turning his eyes into bottomless pools of hypnosis. “In the interest of having him retain that face women say makes angels have envious tantrums.”
She tore her gaze away from him, the ultimate in beauty to her, tried to get over the jellifying shock of finding him here.
But why not here? He’d been everywhere, his pursuit of her far surpassing his previous avoidance in persistence.
It made her wonder how he’d been simultaneously pursuing the investigations and seeing to pressing business and state matters. It made her hate him more with every stab of temptation that tore at the dregs of her self-respect, wanting to beg to be with him again.
She crossed to the dresser, tried not to drop her bag on it. “Haidar is magnificent, isn’t he? The perfect male version of his supernaturally beautiful mother, and without the scales, too.”
“Think how you’d be preserving God’s gift to women, then.”
She met his gaze in the mirror. Even in the coldness of the reflection, his eyes belied the mockery in his voice, the nonchalance in his pose, blazed over her with ferocity and possessiveness, craving and entreaty.
Yeah, right. She knew why he was doing this.
Knowing should have wiped her mind of the images. Of streaking to that bed, pushing him back, straddling him, tearing him out of his clothes and losing her mind all over him again.
She tried not to teeter with the force of her fantasies as she turned. “What a quaint caveman variation. And you are…who exactly? To tell me what I can or can’t do?”
“I’m the only man you ever wanted.” He rose to a half-sitting position, lazily dragging a hand through the hair that rained over his leonine forehead with the move. It only sifted back with what she knew was a silky sigh. “The blockhead you’re punishing for the ridiculous plan he forgot all about at your first touch.”
“And I’m still the woman who told you she never wants to see you again. I’m here as part of Team Pride of Zohayd, not Team Amjad.”
“As long as it’s not Team Haidar, I can be…reasoned with.” He rose from his deceptive relaxation in one fluid move, bridged the distance with deliberation designed to lull her. When he was a foot away, he reached out a hand to her face. She pulled back, cursing him again for the thunder in her chest, the shudder in her resolve. He exhaled, seeming to expend his calculation. “Isn’t it time you decided to cut the drama?”
“Drama? Because being kidnapped and having your kidnapper pass the time till you’re ransomed bedding you in every conceivable position is something to get over in a few days?”
His eyes flared. “It’s been three weeks, Maram. Three damn centuries’ worth of agony and aggravation and wanting to kill and quarter my own little brother. You’ve punished me enough.”
“Says who? You? Prince Self-Serving?”
He held back something fierce. “Okay, punish me for as long as you want. Just give me a damn date when you’ll forgive me. Next month? Next year? Next decade?”
“Wow, that’s new. A forgiveness schedule. How about never?”
He folded his arms on his massive chest. “You know I’ll never take never for an answer, Maram.”
“Too bad, because it’s the only answer you’ll get. And I’m not saying that to make you try harder.”
“You promised you’d never change your mind. No matter what.”
“I never would have changed my mind about the you I thought you were. That’s who I gave my promise to.”
She turned toward the door, to make him leave, to escape. He stopped her. Not with his hands. With a ragged, agonized question.
“You’re really giving up on me?”
She choked on regret. Giving up on him felt like giving up on everything she’d ever wanted from life.
She cast him a pained look. “I should have done that long ago. But live and learn, and move on.”
“You can’t, Maram. You don’t give up.”
“I can. I did.”
“You did see things in me that no one else saw, real things, things that spoke to you, suited and satisfied you.”
“I was self-deluding. You can believe anything, it seems, if you want it badly enough.”
“It’s my proof that I’m not all reprehensible. That you wanted me that much.”
“’Cause I’m such a great judge of character? Not.”
“Because you are such a great character.”
“Sure. A month ago, I was a man-eating succubus.”
“A month ago I knew of you. I know you now. And the you I know can’t turn off your eshg—what you professed to feel for me—just like that.”
“What I felt for you was based on a mountain of misconceptions. I loved a man who told me everything he thought to my face, who never hid his opinion or intentions. I trusted that man. I respected him. You’re not that man. You’re a cold, calculating cheat, just like your ex-wife and your mobboss stepmother.”
And the bastard smiled! “Aih, give it to me. Let it all out.”
“I’m done.” She opened the door. “And you’re gone, Prince Amjad.”
“Don’t you mean Abghad or Awghad?”
“Those names were for the man I thought I could share fun with. The man you are can’t be called anything worse than your real name.”
He took the door from her. “You fear I’ll always have reasons to abuse your trust. But I swear I’ll never let anything stop me from telling you the whole truth ever again.”
“Yeah, you won’t because I won’t give you the chance.”
“Listen to yourself, Maram. You are still angry.”
“I’m not angry. I’m…disillusioned. The enchanted haze I saw you through was blown away. The bond I always felt with you was exposed for what it is…nonexistent.”
He closed the door, backed her against it, his face a study in perfection and passion. “It exists. It was there in every second, when we sparred, when we laughed, when we made love…”
She turned her face away as his head descended to capture her in his power again. “Oh, no, you don’t. Love and making it don’t exist, like you said. One of your selective truths.” She glared up at him, hating him for making her so weak, so needy. “Don’t enrage me by suddenly starting to spout euphemisms.”
He melted a smile and a tender finger down her cheek, almost combusting it. “You mean this is you not enraged yet? And they’re not euphemisms. What I feel with you—”