Traded to the Desert Sheikh

She had ridden them both to a slow, hot, shattering finish that she’d been sure had left her completely boneless. Destroyed inside and out. And she’d been fiercely glad that they hadn’t been facing each other, because she was terribly afraid Kavian would have seen too easily all the ways she was ripped wide open. That her vulnerability was written right there across her face.

But she thought he knew, even so.

When it had come time to climb back on the horses and head south toward the palace, she was grateful. It had meant long hours for her to put herself back together before anyone could study the ways she’d fallen apart. Before she had to admit it to herself, how broken she’d become out there. Or, far worse, how much she’d liked it. Hours to hide herself away again, behind a mask she hadn’t understood she was wearing until he’d torn it off.

“I’ve never understood the appeal of the desert,” she said now, forgetting to censor herself as the sprawling royal stables came into view before them. Was that relief she felt that this ride—this odd interlude—would soon be over? Or something far more complicated?

“Never?” He made that low sound that was his form of laughter, that she found she craved all the more by the day. “But you are the daughter of a mighty desert king. It is deep in your blood whether you understand it or not. It is your birthright.”

“I’ve never cared much for sand,” Amaya said.

“Is this where you try to put up all your walls again, azizty?” His mouth was right there at her ear, and his voice was a dark flame that lit her from within, that dark current of amusement ratcheting the heat in her even higher. “How many ways must I take you before you understand that there will be no walls between us? There will be nothing but surrender. It would be better by far if you accepted this now.”

“Or perhaps I simply do not care for sand,” she said, and she laughed, then felt his hard muscles tighten all around her in reaction. “Not everything is a conspiracy, Kavian. Some things are simply statements.”

“And some statements have consequences.” His eyes would be gleaming silver if she could see them, she was sure. “As I have been at some pains to show you.”

“Is that what you call it? I rather thought you were putting on a grand show. Hauling me into the harem baths, then off to play queen of the desert tribes with no warning. It’s almost as if you don’t really want a queen at all, so much as a plaything.”

“Surely not having to choose is a benefit of royalty,” he said, and there was no denying the laughter in his voice then. “I will have to consult the manual upon our return.”

Amaya felt that as a victory, the rumble of laughter in his chest behind her. From the man who’d stood before her like marble to tell her the worst of himself, to this man who laughed with her, and it was all her doing. There were darker things that batted at her then, but she ignored them. She would bask in this, even if only for a moment. That she could do this for him. Take a stone and make him a man again. Even if only for a moment.

Even if only for her.

Kavian didn’t speak as they rode into the great courtyard. He swung from the horse’s back as they entered and led her the rest of the way toward the waiting stable hands. He lifted her from the saddle the way he had before, lowering her to the ground in a manner that only called attention to his superior strength.

And made her wish they were alone so she could feel the drag of his mighty chest against hers again. Like the addict she knew she was.

“We marry in two weeks, Amaya,” he said, the vastness of the desert in his voice and silver in his gray eyes, and she felt it like a caress. All of it. His command. His authority. Like a long, hot, drugging kiss. It made her feel alive.

“Perhaps if you didn’t keep saying that like it was a dire threat, you’d get a better response,” she said, tipping her head back to meet his gaze.

Her reward was that crook of his hard mouth. That gleam in his dark eyes.

“You prefer the threat, I think,” he said, and ran a fingertip along the line of her jaw. There was no reason it should echo throughout the rest of her, making even the blood in her veins clamor for more. “You rise to meet it every time. You’ll make me an excellent queen, azizty.”

And when she didn’t argue that away for once, when she only met his gaze and let her mouth curve instead, Kavian smiled.

Amaya felt it deep inside her, warm and bright, like a song she told herself she’d let herself sing for a little while.