The distinction was not lost on her. It made her grit her teeth.
He ate the fruit then, gracefully spitting out the pit into his palm and tossing it away.
Alysson fed him another, yet she couldn't help but give a fearful glance at the slavers. "You wouldn't sell me to them, would you?"
His answer, so long in coming, was not particularly reassuring. "No, I have need of you myself."
She shoved another date in his mouth before he had finished swallowing the last. She hoped he choked on it.
Jafar responded with merely a casual shrug. "Pity. You would bring a good price, since you are still a virgin."
His frankness elicited a small gasp from Alysson. "How did you—?" She broke off abruptly, having no earthly intention of discussing the status of her innocence with him.
"How did I know?" A smile that could almost be called satisfied played at the corners of his mouth. "A logical assumption, given the expectations of your race regarding unmarried females. Your response just now merely confirmed it."
While she silently fumed, his eyes dropped lower to scrutinize her breasts and hips. He was still speculating on her value as a slave—merely to provoke her, Alysson was sure.
"With rich food to fill out your curves, you might command a high price indeed. That is, if you could ever learn to be docile."
Her fulminating glare was hot enough to boil the camel's milk he was drinking. "You are insane if you think I could ever be as subservient as your Eastern women."
"I expect service as a slave would curb your rebellious nature soon enough. A day's work in a harem would render you more submissive, and would show you what real life is about.''
The measured tones of his voice frightened her. "Is that what you intend to do with me? Am I to be imprisoned in your harem?"
"Hareern is also an Arab word."
"Don't debate semantics with me!" she cried, trying to quell her rising panic. "Am I or am I not to become your . . . your concubine?''
"Would you like to become my concubine?"
Alysson stared at him, anguish and confusion warring for expression on her face.
"If I took you into my harem, I would use you for my own pleasure, and show you pleasure in return."
"W-what . . . what do you mean?"
"Surely you have some idea of what goes on between a man and a woman?"
Alysson nervously wet her lips.
"Perhaps you would like me to teach you." His gaze dropped to her mouth. "You challenged me to instruct you in the art of kissing, did you not?"
His fingers gripped her chin lightly. He was staring intently at her mouth now. Alysson felt the savagery of his kiss, though he had not yet claimed it.
It was all she could do to force a reply past the tightness in her throat. "Do you always terrify your prisoners this way? Does it give you some perverse satisfaction to mistreat me so?"
She saw his topaz eyes narrow in warning. "I have not mistreated you, nor will I, if you obey my commands. "
Mustering all the courage she possessed, Alysson returned his fierce gaze. "I may be your captive," she said steadily, "but I am not your slave. And I will never be your concubine."
The pressure of his fingers on her chin increased the slightest degree. "Even so, you will call me master."
His voice was so soft that it was scarcely a whisper, yet the lack of volume made it no less dangerous. Alysson felt herself trembling.
His hard expression softened then, and he released her chin. "I have had my fill of the food. Now you may eat."
Alysson bit back the fierce retort that sprang to her lips. At the moment she didn't have the nerve to defy him further, even though his condescension, his air of superiority, his incredible arrogance, made her want to scream. He was acting like he was some kind of grand seigneur, some high and mighty king—