Forged in the Desert Heat

And that was how she’d met Sheikh Tariq. It was how she’d ended up in Shakar, and then, in Al Sabah.

Oil was the grandaddy of this entire mess.

But it would be okay. It would be. She thought of Tariq, his warm dark eyes, his smile. The thought of him always made her stomach flip. Not so much at the moment, but given she was hot, tired, dusty, and currently leaning into the embrace of a stranger, thanks to her klutzy dismount, it seemed understandable.

She straightened and pushed away from him, heart pounding. He was nothing like Tariq. For a start, his eyes were flat black, no laughter. No warmth. But so very compelling...

“Where are we?” she asked, looking away from him, and at their surroundings.

“In the middle of the desert. I would give you coordinates, but I imagine they would mean nothing to you.”

“Less than nothing.” She squinted, trying to see through the haze of purple, the sun gone completely behind the distant mountains now. “How long until we reach civilization? Until I can contact my father? Or Tariq?”

“Who says I’ll allow you to contact them? Perhaps I have purchased you for my harem.”

“What happened to you being my salvation?”

“Have you ever lived in a harem?” He lifted a brow. “Perhaps you would like it.”

“Do you even have a harem?”

“Sadly,” he said, his tone as dry as the sand, “I do not. But I am only just getting started in the position as sheikh, so there is time to amass one.”

She nearly choked, fear clutching at her. “I am...stranded in the middle of a foreign desert....”

“It’s not foreign.”

“Not to you!” she said.

“Continue.”

“I am stranded in the desert with a stranger who claims he’s a sheikh, a sheikh who bought me, and you are joking about my future! I have no patience for it.”

She had no patience left in her entire body. At this moment, she had two options: get angry, or sink to the ground and cry. And crying was never the preferred option. No, the schools she’d attended, the ones she’d been sent to after her mother left, had been exclusive, private and very strict. She’d been taught that strength and composure were everything. She’d been taught never to run when she could walk. Never to shout when a composed, even statement would do. And she’d learned that tears never helped anything in life. They didn’t change things. They hadn’t brought her mother back home, certainly.

So she was going with anger.

His manner changed, dark brows locking together. His black eyes glittering with dark fire. He tugged at the bottom portion of the scarf, which had kept most of his face hidden until that moment, and revealed his lips, which were currently curled into a snarl.

“And you think I have the patience for this? These men are playing at starting a war between two nations simply to keep their petty ring of thieves intact. They are trying to buy my loyalty with blackmail. Because they know that if your precious Tariq finds out you were taken by citizens of Al Sabah, or God forbid, they find out the Sheikh of Al Sabah possessed you for any length of time against your will, that the tenuous truce we have between the countries will shatter entirely. How do you suppose my patience is?”

She blinked, feeling dizzy. “I...I’m going to start a war?”

“Not if I play it right.”

“I imagine putting me in your harem wouldn’t defuse things.”

“True enough. But then...perhaps I want the war.”

“What?”

“I am undecided on the matter.”

“How can you be undecided on the matter?”

“Easily,” he said. “I have yet to have a look at any of the papers left behind by my uncle. I have had limited contact with the palace since finding out I was to be installed as ruler.”

“Why?”

“Could have something to do with the fact that my first, albeit distant, act was to fire every single person who worked for my uncle. Regime changes are rough.”

“Is this a...hostile takeover?”

“No. I am the rightful heir. My uncle is dead.”

“I’m sorry.” Her manners were apparently bred into her strongly enough that they came out even in the middle of a crisis of this magnitude.

“I’m not. My uncle was the worst thing to happen to Al Sabah in its history. He brought nothing but poverty and violence to my country. And stress between us and neighboring countries.” His dark gaze swept over her. “You are unfortunate enough to have become a pawn in the paradigm shift. And I have yet to decide how I will move you.”

CHAPTER TWO

FOR ONE MOMENT, Zafar almost felt something akin to sympathy for the pale woman standing in front of him. Almost.

He had no time for emotions like that. More than that, he was nearly certain he had lost the ability to feel them in any deep, meaningful way.

He’d spent nearly half of his life away from society, away from family. He’d had no emotional connections at all in the past fifteen years. He’d had purpose. A drive that transcended feeling, that transcended comfort, hunger, pain. A need to keep watch over Al Sabah, to protect the weakest of his people. To see justice served.

Even at the expense of this woman’s happiness.

Fortunately for her, while he imagined she would be delayed longer than she would like, he had a feeling their ultimate goals would be much the same. Seeing her back to Tariq would be the simplest way to keep peace, he was certain. But he had to figure out how to finesse it.

And finesse was something he generally lacked.

Brute force was more his strength.

“I don’t like the idea of that at all,” she said. “I’m not really inclined to hang around and be moved by you. I want to go home.” She choked on the last word, a crack showing in her icy facade. Or maybe the shock was wearing off. It was very likely she’d been in shock for the past few days.

He remembered being in that state. A blissful cushion against the harsh reality of life. Oh yes, he remembered that well. It had driven him out into the desert and the searing heat had hardly mattered at all.

He hadn’t felt it.

He was numb. Bloody memories blunted because there was no way he could process them fully. Deep crimson stains washed pink by the bone-white sun.

If she was lucky, she was being insulated in that way. If not...if not he might have a woman dissolving in front of him soon. And he really didn’t have the patience for that.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“Right. War. Et cetera.”