Lost to the Desert Warrior

Her only outlet was to moan, and moan she did as she felt the brush of his erection against the soft flesh of her inner thigh. He eased away from her and slid his hand down one bare leg, parting her.

It was possibly the most intimate action of their relationship so far.

It was the first time he’d seen her. The first time any man had seen her. And she realised that the light offered no opportunity for modesty or concealment. Spread and exposed, there was no hiding, and when his gaze lifted to hers she knew her cheeks were burning.

‘It makes me feel—’

‘I know how it makes you feel,’ he said softly, ‘but you can trust me. I want you to trust me.’

Light shone from the two lamps positioned right by the bed. His eyes shifted from her flushed face to her breasts and lower still. To that part of her that lay between the shadows of her thighs—that part of her that now lay open to him. And if she were embarrassed it soon became clear that he wasn’t. Nor did he intend to allow her to hide. Trembling with anticipation, she felt the warmth of his palm on the inside of her thigh, the gentle slide of skilled male fingers against her wet, sensitive flesh, and then he moved again and the next thing she felt was the scorching heat of his clever, knowing mouth.

Layla closed her eyes. He’d done this before but she was discovering that in the dark it was different. She knew how wet she was already, and then she felt his tongue on her and in her, parting her, exploring her in the most intimate way possible, until she was writhing against the silk sheets, only his firm grip on her hips keeping her still.

He drove her to orgasm again and again, and when he finally hauled her under him and thrust deep Layla was so dazed and disorientated, so weakened by pleasure, she could do nothing but move with him, lost in this new version of reality.

* * *

‘Tell me about the dogs.’

He’d picked his moment carefully. Picked a time when she was at her most vulnerable. A time when she was more likely to trust him with those secrets she’d buried inside herself. Because she was wrapped in the curve of his arm he felt the tension ripple through her slender body as she tried to roll away from him.

‘I can’t.’ The fear in her voice was so sharp it was almost visible.

‘Try.’

‘You don’t understand—’

‘I want to.’ He wondered how far he could push before she shut herself down and refused him access. ‘Were you bitten?’

Without warning, she pulled away from him and sat up. She stared blankly ahead of her and then drew up her knees and hugged them with her arms, as if giving herself comfort. ‘When we were young Hassan used to make us play a game called Hide.’

‘Hide and Seek?’

‘His version of Hide and Seek. We were given an hour to hide and then—’ The words seemed to jam in her mouth so he prompted her.

‘Then they tried to find you?’

‘Then they sent the dogs to find us.’ Her voice was flat, the words factual, as if it were only by stripping out the emotion that she could bear to speak them. ‘Saluki. Four of them. Although people keep them as pets, the Saluki is a hunting dog. But I’m sure you already know that. The Bedouin use them for hunting hares, gazelle, and foxes and other prey. In this case we were the prey.’

Shock stunned him into silence. When he finally managed to speak, he found himself devoid of words, because there simply were none. What could anyone say in response to a revelation of that magnitude? ‘Layla—habibti—’ The endearment flowed off his tongue so naturally he didn’t notice. All his attention was focused on her.

‘A Saluki is the fastest dog there is—did you know that?’ She swept her hair away from her face with a shaking hand, her face ghostly pale in the dim light of the room. ‘Some claim it’s the Greyhound, but over long distances the Saluki is faster. Its paws are padded so they absorb the impact. Believe me when I say that no child, however terrified, could ever outrun a Saluki. I know because we tried.’

She was speaking quickly now, her breathing shallow, as if she were remembering what it was like to run with fear in her heart and menace at her heels.

The image she painted was so vivid Raz felt nausea settle in the pit of his stomach. He sat up slowly, staring at her frozen profile. ‘You are saying he sent the dogs to hunt you?’

‘It was Hassan’s idea of entertainment. Yasmin was terrified—just terrified.’ Her teeth were chattering as she remembered. ‘Her little body used to shake so badly she couldn’t run, but it didn’t really matter because running was pointless. And they didn’t want us to run. They wanted us to hide. Do you know how terrifying it is, waiting for the moment when they find you? Because they will find you. And you hear them before you see them—you hear them panting, and the muffled thud of their paws as they pick up the scent and follow your trail. And you brace yourself for that moment, never knowing if this time they’ll rip you apart before the humans call them off. All you can do is close your eyes and hope.’