A slow smile twined its way across his mouth, and he tipped her chin up to his so he could see those mesmerizing eyes again. “You, hayaati, are amazing.”
“Why?”
“Because you are.”
He brushed his fingers through her long hair, lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her the way he’d restrained himself from kissing her earlier. Her lips parted easily, and he stroked his tongue against hers, tasted her sweetness, her goodness, her wetness and need. Reveled in just being close to her. Even if he knew it could never last. For the first time in ten years, Zoraida couldn’t see him. She couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t touch him. Not so long as they were on this boat. And before he had to decide what to do next, he planned to show Mira just what her gift meant to him. Even if she didn’t know it was a gift in the first place.
He pushed her down to the cushions, braced his hands on the leather as he climbed over her and changed the angle of the kiss, as he tasted her deeper, as her arms came around him and she pulled him close. His chest brushed hers; her legs opened to make room for him. And when she groaned, when her fingers dug into his shoulders and she pulled him even closer, all the worry rushed away.
He’d never been in love before. Not even with a female from his world. He’d never had time. And then he’d been imprisoned by Zoraida, and love had been the furthest thing from his mind. But here he was. With a female. A human female. One who gave and gave and didn’t ask for anything in return. One who had missed him, even knowing what he really was.
“Mira—”
She lifted her knees on each side of his, drawing him toward her heat, kissing him again and again and cutting off his words. Then she pressed her full, luscious breasts against his chest until all he could think about was stripping her naked and showing her with his hands and mouth and body how much she meant to him.
“Mira—”
“Don’t talk, Tariq,” she whispered, kissing his lips, his nose, his cheeks. “Just kiss me again. God, I missed you.”
They were words no one ever said. Words he’d longed to hear. Words that touched a part of him he’d closed off from the world. He sank into her mouth, pushed his erection against her mound, groaned at the contact, just as she did. But when her hands traveled down his back and her fingers pressed into his still-healing wounds, he jerked back from her mouth and ground his teeth against the shot of pain igniting like fire in his flesh.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” he managed, wincing as the burn slowly faded. “I’m…fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Mira said, pushing him up and climbing onto her knees on the couch. “You’re hurt. Turn around.”
“Mira—”
“Turn around, Tariq.”
One glance at her determined features told him she wouldn’t drop this demand until he complied. And though he didn’t want her to see the lash marks, he knew they weren’t going to finish what they’d started until he appeased her.
He turned his back toward her.
“Take off your shirt,” she said.
He unbuttoned the shirt he wore, shrugged out of the short sleeves, and let the rayon fabric fall around his waist.
Mira gasped.
He looked over his shoulder. Couldn’t see anything but Mira’s shocked eyes and her hand covering her mouth. “That doesn’t sound encouraging, hayaati. You’re supposed to say, ‘It’s not that bad.’”
Her heartsick gaze shot to him. But there was no humor in her voice when she dropped her hand and said, “Who did this to you?”
He looked away, at the bed across the salon he still wanted to tumble across with her. But that clearly wasn’t going to happen until they talked. And he had a feeling once they did and she learned the truth, tumbling anywhere with him was going to be out of the question.
You have to choose. Her or your brothers.
“Tariq,” Mira said again when he didn’t answer. “Who did this to you?”
“Zoraida.”
“Who’s that?”
“My master.”
Mira sank back to sit on her heel. “The person who controls you. The one who sent you here to me.”
He tugged his shirt back on, turned to face her. Knew that she had to be wondering how and why and what it all meant. Knew, when he looked into those glittering hazel eyes, that he was going to tell her. “A sorceress. One who used magic to break down the walls between our worlds. One who”—and here was where it got sticky—”tricked me.”
“How?” Mira asked, tucking her feet up under her as he pushed to his and started pacing.
Moving at least gave him something to do besides wonder what she was thinking. But the salon was so small, there was very little room to move. He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m the eldest of three sons. My father, the king—”
“Wait. Your father’s a king?” Shock ran across Mira’s face, slowing his feet. “That makes you a—”
“Prince. Yeah. Or at least, I was one. Once.” He shook off the thought, resumed pacing. The open shirt flapped against his stomach. “War is constant in our realm. The tribes are always fighting, seeking power. My brothers and I were all soldiers in the army, but as the eldest, it was my duty to assume the throne. I didn’t really want it. I liked being with the troops more than I did commanding them. But our father hasn’t been the same since he was injured in battle several years ago, and it was time. I was selfish, though. I asked for one last mission. He agreed—reluctantly—and sent me and a handful of soldiers up the Jagged Coast. Several villages had been ransacked by Ghuls. We were supposed to eradicate the Ghuls, restore order, and return me to my throne a hero.”
“What happened?” Mira asked quietly.
“Zoraida fooled me.” He thought back to how naïve he’d been. How young and easily coerced. How stupid. “She was in a bar in one of the first villages we freed. The soldiers were celebrating. There were females from the village there that night. Lots of females, ready to show their appreciation for what we’d done. She was one of them.”
“She seduced you.”
Was that jealousy in her voice? Tariq couldn’t tell. And he couldn’t dwell on it, because in a minute, it wouldn’t matter.
“She used magic over me,” he said. “I didn’t know it at the time, but I realized it as soon as it was over. When the magic wore off, I saw her as she truly is. Not beautiful and magnetic as I’d envisioned her to be, but frigid and deadly. The raids on the villages—they were all traps. She commands the Ghuls, has since she came into our realm, only we didn’t know. She knew my father would send one of his sons to oversee the battles, and she needed a royal djinn from the strongest tribe to complete her goaclass="underline" to become the strongest magical being in all of the realms.”
“What happened next?” Mira asked in a quiet voice.
“She bound me to the Firebrand opal, made me her slave. Sent me out into the human world to…” He swallowed, glanced down at the floor because he couldn’t meet Mira’s eyes. Not this time. “…corrupt souls to fuel her power.”
When Mira didn’t say anything, he resumed pacing. Okay, so now she knew the truth about the whole wish fulfillment thing and why he was here with her now. And she hated him, just as he’d known she would. But that space in his chest chilled faster than he expected, and what had once been warm and full of life earlier turned cold as a blackened cinder.