“It does not have to be so difficult, Khalid-jan. My favorite color is violet. The scent of roses makes me feel at home, wherever I am. I do not enjoy fish, but will eat it to make a loved one happy, suffering through my smiles.”
He remained stone-faced, the conflict in his eyes warring on.
With a beleaguered sigh, she turned and strode to the entrance. “Good night.”
Khalid was beside her in a few long strides, pressing his hand to the ebony door. Preventing her from leaving.
“What do you want me to do?” he said in a low voice.
She did not look up, though her heart thrummed in her throat. “Prove that a real man doesn’t make a show of what’s his. It just is.”
“Is it? Are you mine?” Khalid asked with quiet solemnity.
Her conviction wavered further. “I told you; don’t try to own me.”
“I don’t want to own you.”
She swiveled her neck to meet his gaze. “Then never speak of sending me away again. I am not yours to do with as you will.”
Khalid’s features smoothed knowingly. “How right you are. You are not mine.” He dropped his palm from the door. “I am yours.”
Shahrzad curled her fingers tight, forcing herself to recall a time when she meant nothing to him. A time when he meant less than nothing to her, and all that mattered was blood for blood.
Alas, she no longer saw the same boy before her. Just light amidst a sea of darkness, and the unerring promise of something more. But she never saw the things she should see. The pain, the anger, the betrayal. These things always faded, and she despised herself for it.
Before she could stop her hands, they reached for him, as though they existed for no other reason than to touch him. Her fingers brushed across his jaw with a feather’s caress before pulling away, and he closed his eyes on a soft inhale. Like the poison toying with its remedy, Shahrzad’s hands ignored her and took control, a mere taste of his skin not nearly enough. Never enough. They began at his brow and eased their way to his temples before sliding into his hair, smooth as silk, dark as night. She watched his eyes open and turn from liquid to fire under her fingers. Shahrzad ran her palms down to his neck, where she paused.
“Why won’t you touch me?” she whispered.
It took him a moment to reply. “Because if I start, I won’t stop.”
“Who asked you to stop?” Her fingers traveled to his chest.
“What if I can’t give you the answers you want?”
Again, she returned to nothing.
Yet there, in the warmth of his eyes, was everything.
“Then give me this.” Shahrzad stood on her toes and brought her mouth to his. When he did not respond, she curved her tongue against his lower lip, and his hands drew across her waist in a slow burn. She thought he would push her away, but he dragged her against him. Khalid kissed her, melding nothing to everything. Shahrzad wrapped both arms around his neck, and he backed her into the ebony door until she was braced up against it, each of their breaths matched, measure for measure, beat for beat.
“Khalid.” She gripped his shoulders as his lips brushed the delicate skin beneath her chin. Her heart was pounding so loud that she did not at first recognize the noise at the door.
“Sayyidi.”
“Khalid,” she repeated, catching his wrists.
He swore softly. Then he reached for the bronze handle.
“Yes.” His reply was low and irascible.
The guard bowed through the crack in the door.
“The shahrban wishes to speak with you. Captain al-Khoury may have determined how the intruders gained entry into the palace.”
Khalid nodded curtly as he shut the door. He ran his palm along the side of his jaw before turning to Shahrzad once more.
She was leaning against the ebony with her hands clasped behind her back.
“Go,” she said softly.
He paused in thoughtful scrutiny. “I—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll stay here.”
“Thank you.” As he reached for the handle again, he lingered and smiled to himself.
Her brows drew together. “What is it?”
“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. To want something so much—to hold it in your arms—and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.” Khalid pulled open the door and stepped over the threshold without waiting for a response.
Shahrzad slid to the floor. The hands that had appeared steady against him now shook before her face. Proof that she was being equally punished for her own transgressions. Punished for desiring a monster.
She offered silent thanks to the stars that dealt in fate—for her monster did not seem to know how all reason had left her for the space of a breath.
How the guilt crashed down around her.
And how the questions burdened her soul.
“Someone who knows.”
A SHADE OF WHAT I FEEL
SHAHRZAD REMAINED IN THE WASTELAND OF HER thoughts, studying the prisms of light from the lamp of latticed gold. When she could no longer feel any sensation in the soles of her feet, she rose to a standing position. Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in her surroundings with the careful study of a predator to its prey.
The floor was constructed of black onyx, and the walls were hewn from the same smooth alabaster as the corridor leading to the entrance of the antechamber. All the furniture was built of ebony, crafted in harsh lines. Every surface was stark and unobstructed. The bed lacked the bold surfeit of cushions Shahrzad had grown accustomed to in her own bed—that familiar, lush vibrancy, yearning to be lounged upon.