She didn’t know what he meant. She just knew she wanted him. But when he lifted her hand toward her chest, fear replaced worry. “Tariq, wait—”
“Rest. Recover. And when control has returned, think about what is right. Think about what is wrong. I do not want to see you destroyed by the opal. Your wish hasn’t begun. There is still time to save yourself from my curse.”
He pressed her fingers against the Firebrand opal before she could stop him, brushed them slightly over the stone, and then the world swirled around her, a vortex of smoke and fire and heat and flame. She felt herself flying, felt her hair tumbling across her face, the wind brushing her cheeks. And then everything darkened and cleared, and she looked around to find herself lying on the couch in the middle of her apartment.
She gasped, sat up. She was wearing the same jeans and T-shirt she’d been wearing before, but somehow she knew everything she’d experienced had been real. Knew she hadn’t imagined what had happened, because her breasts still tingled from Tariq’s kisses, her sex was still wet from his mouth, and the desire she’d felt was still zinging through her nerves, making her want with a blinding fierceness.
She stood on shaky legs, checked the kitchen, her office, the bedroom. But he was nowhere to be found. Disappointment rushed in on a wave, consumed her from the inside out.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. He didn’t want to see her consumed by the opal? What did that mean? Her fingers grazed the chain, circled around to the back of her neck. And as her fingertips brushed the clasp, it opened as if on cue. The necklace landed in her lap with a soft thud.
Surprise registered. The shop owner had said she wouldn’t be able to take off the necklace until her wish was fulfilled. Was Tariq releasing her from her wish? Could he do that?
Then his last words registered. Words that sent a chill down her spine.
There is still time to save yourself from my curse.
Darkness surrounded Tariq. The cell was cold, the floor covered in a layer of dirt. As he slid to the ground, leaned his back against the frigid stone wall, and closed his eyes, he told himself he’d done the right thing. Leaving before he corrupted Mira’s soul was the only choice he could have made.
It was one thing to corrupt the soul of a human who went looking for trouble. But Mira was different. If he tainted Mira’s soul, he’d be no better than Zoraida. And even he wasn’t willing to become like her. Not even for his own brothers.
He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but when he awoke, he knew a visit from Zoraida was inevitable. She had to be pissed over what he’d done. She could see—through the opal he wore—into the human world and watched his targets. But he was willing to take the risk. Because for the first time, something besides his own suffering mattered.
Footsteps echoed outside his cell. He opened his eyes just as metal clanged against metal, and the cell door swung outward.
“You’ve a visitor,” the guard barked.
The guard shoved a half-naked man into the cell. Long, dark hair covered his face. He tripped, started to go down, but Tariq lurched to his feet and caught him before he hit the floor. “Nasir?”
The cell door clanged shut again as Nasir lifted his bruised face toward Tariq and tried to smile. His bottom lip was split and bloodied, and he was missing a tooth. “You recognized me even with my makeover? Guess Zoraida’s guards aren’t doing a good enough job.”
Carefully, Tariq lowered his brother to the floor. Disbelief and rage whipped through him. “What did she do to you?”
Nasir grimaced as he scooted back to lean against the wall. His skin was dirty and bruised, and he was thinner than Tariq remembered. As if he’d not only been beaten but starved as well. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“How did she find you?” It was the first time Tariq had talked to his brother in nearly ten years. Not since the day he’d been captured by Zoraida’s goons along the Jagged Coast and brought to this hellhole.
Nasir lifted a shoulder, dropped it. He shook his hair back from his face, a move he’d been doing since they were kids, and for the first time, Tariq saw a flicker of the warrior he knew his brother to be in the battered djinn at his side. “We got a request for help from the Wastelands. Ghuls were reportedly ravaging villages. My unit was moving through the Red Desert when we came across a small settlement, still smoking. They were lying in wait. Ghuls. Wreaking havoc. A battle resulted. I heard a scream, went looking. Came across an innocent about to be raped. I tried to help. Turned out she wasn’t so innocent.”
“Zoraida?”
Nasir nodded. “The Ghuls were hers. They jumped me before I even realized what was happening.”
Nasir’s explanation made perfect sense. His protective streak was legendary. He hated injustice, and when it involved a female, there was no keeping him sidelined. Not if he thought he could help. Tariq knew that protective streak was a result of guilt. The war between the tribes had been going on for hundreds of years, but Nasir had always been the pacifist in the family. The one who thought negotiations and treaties were the way to end wars, not battles. Their father disagreed. As prince, a military career was required, but being a general, commanding legions, had never been part of who Nasir was. Until, that was, his betrothed was killed.
She’d lived in a small coastal village. One that built ships for the kingdom. Ships used in the Gannahmian army. The attack came at night. On a holiday. When most inhabitants were home, asleep in their beds. The entire village was burned to the ground. Every resident killed. And Nasir, who was supposed to be visiting his love for the holiday and wasn’t because he’d been called out on patrol, had never forgiven himself for not being there to protect her.
Tariq leaned back against the cold cement wall, rested his forearms on his updrawn knees. “And Ashur. How did she find him?”
“You know Ashur,” Nasir said with a ghost of a smile. “Can’t stand to be left out of the fold.”
Tariq would have laughed, but the situation was anything but funny. As the youngest brother, Ashur did hate being left out. But he’d never willingly turn himself over to Zoraida. “How did she…?”
“She used me,” Nasir said, all humor gone from his voice. “Said she was willing to make a deal. That she knew where to find you.”
Shit.
“We didn’t even know you were still alive,” Nasir went on. “Father thought you’d perished on the Jagged Coast. We mourned you, Tariq. They held a funeral rite.”
Tariq stared at the bars. So his family had already buried him. Ten years in this hell and they thought he’d died exploring some stupid coast in their kingdom’s name. No wonder no one had ever searched for him.
He looked to his brother as the thread of hope he’d been hanging onto since being brought here solidified. “Surely Father’s looking for you and Ashur now.”
“I’m sure he is,” Nasir said on a sigh. “But he won’t find us. Ashur didn’t tell anyone where he was meeting Zoraida. She warned him to keep it secret. She’s good at disguises, as you know. Ashur didn’t suspect a thing either. Until it was too late, that is.”
Tariq looked back ahead as that thread snapped. He thought of the guards holding Ashur against the bars of his cell the last time he’d seen Zoraida. The way his brother had barely been able to stand. The way his eyes had been glazed and not focusing. “Where is she keeping you both?”
“In a cell. Not far from here.”