Forged in the Desert Heat

“You buy kidnapped women and then carry them off on your horse every night?”

“I was just referring to the tent.”

“I know,” she said, looking up at the sky, vast and dotted with stars. “Just trying to lighten the mood.” Otherwise she really would cry. She didn’t have enough energy for anger anymore. Lame jokes were her last line of defense.

And she couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Her father would need her to keep it together, to make sure she made it back to him. Back to Tariq. She’d done everything right, had spent so many years doing her best to be helpful. To not be a burden.

Falling down in the home stretch like this was devastating.

“Technically,” he said, tying a knot in a rope at the top of the tent. “I didn’t buy you. I ransomed you.”

“That does sound nicer.”

“Think of it that way then. If it helps.”

“A small comfort, all things considered, but I’ll take it.”

“There, it is done. Are you ready to sleep?”

No and yes. She didn’t want to get into the tent with him and sleep on the ground. It was demoralizing. More than that, it was scary. The idea of being so close to him made her heart pound, made her feel dizzy. But she was also ready to collapse with exhaustion. No matter that Zafar was a stranger, he wasn’t her kidnapper. He wasn’t the same as the men who’d been holding her these past few days.

No matter how austere and frightening he was, he had saved her from her kidnappers.

“Oh...thank you,” she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Thank you so much.”

And something in her broke that she hadn’t even realize had been there. The dam on her emotions that had been keeping her strong, keeping her from falling apart since she’d been taken from the camp all those days ago. Or maybe the same dam that had been in place for years, holding back tears for ages, and unable to withstand this new onslaught of life’s little horrors.

And control was suddenly no longer an option.

A sob shook her body, emotion tightening her throat. And then she broke down completely. Great gasps of breath escaping, tears rolling down her face.

He didn’t move to comfort her; he didn’t move at all. He simply let her cry, her sobs echoing in the still night. She didn’t need his touch. She just needed this. This release after days of trying to be strong. Of trying not to show how scared and alone she felt.

And when she was done she felt weak, embarrassed and then angry again.

“Done?”

She looked up and saw him regarding her with an expression of total impassivity. Her outburst hadn’t moved him. Not at all. Not that she really wanted comfort from this big...beast man. But even so. A little reaction would have been nice. Sympathy. Offer of a cold compress or smelling salts or...something.

“Yes,” she said, her throat still tight, her voice croaky. “I am done. Thank you.”

“Ready to sleep?”

“Yes.” The word escaped on a gust of breath. She was completely ready to collapse where she was standing. She didn’t know how that had happened. How exhaustion had taken over so completely.

And then she realized she was shaking. Shivering. She couldn’t do this. She had to be strong and keep control. She had to hold it together.

“I don’t know why,” she said through chattering teeth.

He swore, at least she assumed it was a swearword, based on the tone, and took two long strides toward her, gripping her by the arms and drawing her into the warmth of his body. It wasn’t a hug. She knew that right away. This was no show of affection; it was just him trying to keep her from rattling apart.

She trembled violently, his strong arms, his chest, a wall of support. It was amazing that he smelled as good as he did. Yes, it was a weird thought, but it was simple, basic and one she could process.

All those layers in the heat and she would have imagined he might smell like body odor. Instead he smelled spicy, like fine dust and cloves. And he did smell of sweat, but it wasn’t offensive in any way. He smelled like a man who had been working, a man who had earned every drop of that sweat through honest effort.

That, somehow, made it seem different than other sweat.

Not that she could really claim to be an expert in the quality of sweat, male or otherwise, but for some reason, that was just how it seemed to her.

This current train of thought was probably a sign of a complete mental breakdown. Highly likely, in fact. Yes, very likely, because she was still shaking.

And adding to the signs of a breakdown, was the fact that part of her wanted to curl her fingers around his robe and hold him tightly to her. Cling to him. Beg him not to let her go.

“The nearest mobile medical unit is...not very near,” he said, his voice rough. “So please don’t do anything stupid like dying.”

“If I were dead, how much help would a mobile medical unit be anyway?” she asked, resting her head on his chest, something about the sound of his heartbeat making her feel more connected to the world. To living. She was so completely drained; it felt like it was the reminder of his life that kept her connected with hers. “Besides I don’t think I’m dying.”

“Does anyone ever think they’re dying?”

“I’m not hurt.”

“How long has it been since you had a drink?”

She thought back. “A while. I’m not even really sure how many days it’s been since I was kidnapped.”

“I’m going to put you in the tent.”

She nodded, and at the same time found her feet being swept off the ground, as her body was pulled up against his, his arms cradling her, surprisingly gentle for a man with his strength.

He carried her to the tent and set her down on a blanket inside. Then he left her, returning a moment later with a skin filled with water.

“Drink.”

She obeyed the command. And discovered she was so thirsty she didn’t think she could ever be satisfied.

She pulled the skin away from her lips and a drop ran down her chin. She mourned that drop.

“I hope you weren’t saving that,” she said.

“I have more. And we’ll stop midmorning at an oasis between here and the city.”

“Why didn’t we stop at the oasis tonight?”

“I’m tired. You’re tired.”

“I’m fine,” she said. His tenderness was threatening to undo her, if you could call the way he was speaking to her now tenderness.

“You must be realistic about your own limitations out here,” he said. “That is the first and most valuable lesson you can learn. The desert can make you feel strong and free, but it also makes you very conscious of the fact that you are mortal.”