Lord of Desire

"You have spoken, saiyid," the cowering man replied, before he half-crawled away, looking relieved that he was to go unscathed for his negligence.

Alysson did not think she would get off so lightly. The look in Jafar's eyes as he strode toward her with suppressed savagery struck cold terror in her heart. She had finally goaded him past the point of acquired civilities, she knew.

He caught her by the wrist and pulled her after him, exercising a violence that was even more menacing for being so carefully controlled. Alysson tried unsuccessfully to keep up with his swift strides as he forcibly escorted her back to his tent, stumbling more than once. One glance at his furious expression, however, and she bit back the oath she wanted to fling at this son of darkness. His eyes seemed savage and brilliant, and all too frightening.

She pulled back then, trying to slow the pace and delay whatever punishment he had planned for her. But her efforts failed utterly. When they reached the interior of his tent, Jafar dragged her through the main chamber to the sleeping quarters. Then he released her so suddenly, she nearly fell.

'When I look at you," he said through gritted teeth, "I swear I see intelligence in your eyes, but I am wrong. That was a stupid thing do!"

With a flimsy courage at best, Alysson raised her chin as she rubbed her aching wrist. "It wasn't stupid to try and escape!"

"I don't mean your attempt at escape! I was speaking of your threat to kill yourself."

"If I thought it would do the least good, I wouldn't hesitate," Alysson vowed. "I won't be used to lure the men I love to their deaths! I would rather die myself!"

A flare of some brilliant harsh light shone in Jafar's eyes. Slowly he clenched his hands into fists, then just as slowly released them. “You should know by now that I won't allow you to act against my wishes."

When Alysson didn't reply, he waved his hand in a gesture of frustration. "Why do you persist in underestimating me? You constantly try to fight me, ignoring my orders even though you know I will make you obey them . . ." He paused, then took a calming breath. "I want your word that you won't try to appropriate any more horses or weapons."

Her chin trembling, Alysson returned a scathing look. "Or else what?"

"Or else I will be obliged to curb your freedom."

"Then do it!" she cried, echoing his own words of a moment ago. "I'm sick of your threats and your in

human schemes of vengeance. I won't give my word to a savage fiend who has no honor! I won't stay here willingly, to be used as your pawn. And I won't ever stop trying to escape!"

Abruptly, without further argument, Jafar turned to retrieve one of the silken cords he used to bind her to him each night. His hard face intent, unsmiling, he caught her arm and drew his defiant captive toward the pallet.

Fearing a repeat of last night, Alysson resisted with all her strength, but as usual she was no match for Jafar's determination. With ease, he pushed her down on the pallet and proceeded to tie both her hands and feet.

Alysson nearly wept in frustration, yet she held back her tears. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

His fingers were impersonal but gentle as he completed the task. When he brushed the bare skin of her ankle, Alysson tried not to remember the last time he had touched her that way. Yet without warning, the memory of his hands and his mouth and his muscular body assaulted her, flooding her senses with warmth.

Suddenly his hands stilled. Jafar looked down at her, his gaze locking with hers. He was remembering, too, Alysson realized.

"Let me go," she whispered, and didn't know if she meant from her captivity, or from the depths of his gaze.

"No," he said finally, slowly rising to his feet. "I will never let you go. Not until my mission is fulfilled."

With that, he rose to his feet and stalked from the room, dropping the curtain behind him, enclosing her in semi- darkness.

Alysson gazed helplessly after him, tears of fury and despair gliding down her cheeks. How she hated him! How stupid she had been in hesitating to kill him! Next time she would, shoot him, regardless of the consequences. How gratifying it would be to put a bullet straight through his black heart!

Yet underlying her professed hatred, she was conscious of a plaguing thought that taunted and bewildered her. Jafar's fury hadn't resulted because she had tried to escape. Or even because she'd threatened to kill him.

Inexplicably, it was because she had threatened to take her own life.

Chapter 11

For the remainder of the day, neither her rage nor despair diminished. When Jafar returned to the tent for the midday meal, Alysson gave him a look that held all the contempt and loathing that she could muster. She swore to herself she would never forgive him for tying her up again or foiling her best chance of escape, or for his diabolical schemes to destroy Gervase and the French army.

Jafar wouldn't relent either. He allowed her the freedom of her hands for the meal, but then bound them again before he left.

Her face was still stormy when he returned for the evening. Supper was a grim affair, with Alysson picking at her food and treating Jafar to smoldering silence. As she prepared for bed, however, her thoughts turned violent. If he dared lay one hand on her, if he dared subject her to his despicable lusts, or tried to arouse her fledgling passion the way he had managed so successfully the previous night, she would scratch his tawny eyes out.

Except for binding her wrists and ankles again, though, Jafar made no move to touch her. Alysson was left alone to fume in restless agitation; she couldn't sleep, and she prevented him from sleeping as well.