“This is where you lived?” Olivia asked, a note of horror winding through her voice.
“Yes,” he said. “This is...this is my home.”
“How did you survive this? How did you ever survive this?”
He didn’t know how to answer that question. Because it hadn’t been difficult. Surviving what had come before it...that had been the hard part. To live in this, he had become this. Barren. Empty. Void of anything but the basics. But the need to survive.
“This...this is a part of me. This is what I am.” He indicated the empty, dry room. “This is all I am. I have purpose. But I am not...I am not more. Not more than this. I am not the beautiful, lavish halls of the palace. This is my soul. This is what’s left.”
“I don’t believe that. I don’t believe it, Tarek. You are more than this. You are more than what you were made.”
“I am exactly what I was made,” he said, his voice rough. “Nothing more.”
“That can’t be true,” she said, reaching up to touch his face. “I have seen inside of you. There is more than this. He didn’t destroy you. He didn’t hollow you out. He only wins if you let him.”
“You think it is so simple?” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away. “You think you can simply speak it and it will be true?”
“Why not? You think you can show me this, make analogies out of stone and sand and convince me that you were broken. That you are empty. That you are not the man who made vows to me. The man who read a book so he would know how to please me.”
“No. It is impossible. Stop.”
“What is impossible? What?”
“I cannot be more. I cannot give you more. I will leave you nothing but alone, and you don’t want that. I will be everything you were hoping to avoid.”
“You’re wrong. You’re wrong, because I wasn’t looking to avoid anything when I came here. I was looking for anything, and it was all about me. It had nothing to do with you. I didn’t think of who you might be at all. What you might come to mean to me.”
“I am a killer. A machine. That is all. All I create is pain.”
She grabbed hold of his hands, brought them to her cheeks and held them close to her skin. “With these hands? These hands that have brought me so much pleasure. And have been so tender with me.” She smoothed her palms over his knuckles. “I know you have dealt out pain. I know you have been responsible for unimaginable destruction. In the pursuit of protecting your people. But when you touch me... I have never felt the way that I do when I’m with you. You are more. I’ve witnessed it. I’ve felt it.”
He reached around, grabbing hold of her hair, holding her still, tethering them together. “I can’t. I can’t give more. I must keep focused. I must keep my eyes on my goal.”
“Do you have to deny yourself forever?”
“Yes,” he said.
“No.” She leaned forward, battling against his grip, kissing him on the lips.
And he couldn’t fight against this. Against the need that rose up inside him. The desire to be with her. He knew he was all wrong for her, knew that he could never give her what she wanted. Knew that he didn’t possess the answers to the questions that were in her luminous blue eyes. But he wasn’t strong enough to tell her no. Wasn’t strong enough to turn away from this. Here, out in the desert where he had been the most isolated, he could not say no to this. To this chance to water the dry spaces inside him.
She had already compromised his control. And right now, facing down the desperation in her eyes, he didn’t have it in him to try to reclaim it. He couldn’t give her anything deeper than this. But if she wanted his body, he would gladly share it. And if she would share hers with him... He was not worthy. But he wasn’t strong enough to say no. He had survived torture. Had been beaten, broken, had withstood terrible pain. But he could not withstand this desire. This desire that roared through him like a feral beast, tearing at everything in its path.
After this. After this he would rebuild himself. Would find himself again out in the desert as he had done once before. But not now. Now he would lose himself. In her. In this one way he had given himself permission to find release.
“There is a bed. Upstairs. It is not fine. It is likely full of sand.”
She shook her head. “I don’t care.”
He lifted her up into his arms, held her close to his chest. Felt her heartbeat. She was so beautiful, so breakable. How was he entrusted to hold her in his arms? He was nothing. Nothing but a blunt instrument. Nothing but a weapon. What business did he have putting his hands on her body?