The Desert Lord's Bride (Throne of Judar 2)

Everything ceased. To matter. Ceased, period.

Because I love you.

He stared at her, paralyzed under the onslaught of every contradictory emotion in existence. She loved him. Loved him.

And she was taking his hand, her trembling lips burying in its spasticity, her eyes glittering with so many emotions, he felt inundated. “I loved you at first sight, and I’ve been falling deeper every moment since.”

Was this how necrosis struck in someone’s heart? With emotions that actually generated damaging heat, like a laser? Could he have been blessed by so much, the love of this incomparable woman, her total trust…when he deserved none of it?

But no. He deserved it. For she’d seen through the thin layer of manipulation to the emotions that had blossomed toward her unchecked, unstoppable from the first, every spark of it true. That was what had made her fall in love with him. She’d been reciprocating his feelings.

And though he felt he deserved to lose her in atonement for how he’d led her on, how he still couldn’t confess everything, since it wasn’t only his life or fate in the balance, he had to reach out and take all she offered. And she was offering her all. And he needed it all to live, to exist. He would throw his own need at her feet.

He slipped off the bed, pulled her to its edge until he had her sitting up, then kneeled between her legs. He wanted to pour it all out. But he couldn’t. He was overcome. She had overcome him. He lowered his head to her knee, reiterating her name raggedly, as if in deepest prayer.

She cried out, tried to pull his head up, her fingers trembling in his hair. He put his on top of hers, pressed them to his head, showed her he wanted to be cradled in her lap, needed to be held to her heart, surrounded by her generosity, blessed by her love.

And his magnanimous Farah complied, hugging and hugging him, spilling hot love and tears all over his face and hands.

“Please-” she hiccupped “-don’t make me sorry I told you. Don’t feel as if you owe me anything. I know how honorable you are, and I’d die if I made you feel bad, or compromised. I knew what I was doing, and I never expected anything in return. I’m just happy I’m normal, that I found you, a man who deserves my total trust and love. When it ends, I’ll go on knowing I experienced true fulfillment. That for once I had what my name proclaims me to be. Joy. You gave me that, and I’ll always cherish the memory of our times together.”

He stared up at her, struck at the horror of what he’d inflicted on her. She might have subconsciously felt his emotions, but she’d been unable to believe they existed. And she still hadn’t protected herself at all. She’d given him all of herself, trusted him, expecting nothing, believing she’d have nothing of him in return, convincing herself the morsels he’d given her so far would be enough.

He surged, clamped his lips over hers, unable to bear one more word. “B’Ellahi, ya habibati, er’ruhmuh…have mercy, my love. Ahebbek, ya farah hayati, aabodek, I love you, joy of my life, I worship you. It’s I who loved you on sight, who wanted everything to be perfection for you, wanted to give you time to know me as I prayed you might come to feel a fraction of what I feel for you. You own my heart, by right of being the first to ever wake it. You own my body and life, by right of offering yours for them. And now you own my soul by right of giving me your essence in all selflessness. But you say you don’t expect anything of me. Does this mean you don’t want it? Won’t you take it, when I offer it? Everything that I am? Will you not make me complete, give life reason and texture and purpose? Will you not marry me?”

Farah had gone still with his first words, her eyes, those emerald heavens like pools in an earthquake, their waters welling, shaking in place. When his heart emptied of blood and wouldn’t fill again, silencing him, she gasped as if she’d been underwater, was coming up for a life-saving breath. Then the pools of her eyes turned to rivers, and her face shuddered out of control with jubilation and disbelief. And finally, belief.

And he was in her arms, crushed to her breasts, surrounded by her delirium and joy and the absoluteness of her love.

And she sobbed it all to him, the one thing he craved to hear, her happiness as she consented. “Yes, yes…yes, yes, I’ll be your wife, I’ll be with you always…” She withdrew, her eyes wide with wonder and love so fierce it was painful. “Oh, God, you really love me.”

He reared up, spread her on the bed, came over her. “Ana aashagek-I…I…there’s no word for it. Esh’g is a concept that has no equivalent in English, more selfless than love, carnal as fiercest lust and as reverent as worship and as impossible to shake. I always thought it part of the innate hyperbole of my culture. But it isn’t, it’s the one thing that approximates how I feel for you, about you, with you. Aasahagek. Enti mashoogati. What I feel, and what you are to me.”

She melted beneath him, nerveless, overwhelmed. “It’s too much…oh, darling, too much…”

He consumed her gasps, drained her tears. “Nothing will ever be too much for you, everything I have or do or feel or am is yours. Enti rohi, hayati…my soul and life…”

She arched beneath him, in a fever, opening her legs around him, clamping them high on his back. “Please, my love, I can’t take anymore…just take me when I know it’s in love this time. Love me, let me love you…”

He stroked into her, invaded her, surrendered, and that was all it took to bring them to ecstasy. This time, when he jetted his seed into her womb, he roared his love. And he was freed, free, completed, complete.

“Of course I know it’s been six weeks…” Farah bit her lip as she put the phone away from her ear at the tirade that exploded on the other end. “Bill, will you calm down?” She raised her voice into the mouthpiece before venturing to put the receiver to her ear again. “I will do the analysis today, promise.” She paused, and Shehab couldn’t hold back anymore, walked to her, swept her up in his arms, took her to the couch, sat down with her on his lap, smoothed her, soothed her. She gave him a look that was a cross between gratitude at his solicitude and aggravation at Bill’s fit. Then she finally exhaled. “OK, OK, Bill. Don’t give yourself another coronary. I’ll come back. As soon as I can arrange it.”

She ended the call, looked up at him, apologetic.

He only growled. “You don’t have to take orders from him anymore. As my wife you can buy him out a dozen times over.”