“Tariq…” She kissed him deeper, changed the angle of the kiss, lifted her hips to show him what she wanted. He answered by pushing up on his hands, rubbing his very aroused erection between her legs, making her moan with the promise of ecstasy all over again.
But before she could find a way to free him of his pants, he broke the kiss and stared down at her, his chest heaving.
His face was flushed with desire, his lips swollen from her mouth, his eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them. She knew he wanted her. She could feel that want swelling against her sex. But there was something else in his gaze, something that stopped her from ripping his clothes off and having him.
“Hayaati… I can’t. Not like this.”
She didn’t know what he was talking about. Didn’t know what that word meant, but she loved the sound of it falling from his lips. Loved the way he was looking at her, as if he couldn’t control his desire. As if she was dragging him to the edge as he’d done to her. “Tariq—”
“Did I pleasure you?” He cut her off so quickly, she faltered.
“Yes. Yes,” she managed, trying to ignore the look. Trying to ignore the shot of worry it sent spearing into her chest. He’d pleasured her more thoroughly than anyone ever had. She lifted her hips again, tried to get him to move against her. Grew hot at the thought of returning the favor, of drawing him deep into her mouth and swirling her tongue over his cock until he exploded in her mouth. Then she wanted to ride him until they both came a second time. “I want to taste you now. I want to make you feel as good as I do.”
He pushed back farther from her body. “That is not part of the deal.”
Deal? Deal? Screw the deal. She didn’t care that she’d never felt this kind of desire before, that she’d never needed to be the one giving the pleasure instead of the other way around. But it was all she could think about. All she could feel. She wanted to be the one to make him shudder in release, to feel his orgasm consume him, to know she was the one who’d given him pleasure as no one else had ever done.
She lifted her hips, grew more frustrated when he eased off her body. When he put space between them. He shook his head again, brought her fingers to his lips, kissed each one gently. “Not now, hayaati,” he said as if he’d read her mind. “I’ll never survive. You have to go back before it’s too late.”
She didn’t know what he meant. She just knew she wanted him. But when he lifted her hand toward her chest, fear replaced worry. “Tariq, wait—”
“Rest. Recover. And when control has returned, think about what is right. Think about what is wrong. I do not want to see you destroyed by the opal. Your wish hasn’t begun. There is still time to save yourself from my curse.”
He pressed her fingers against the Firebrand opal before she could stop him, brushed them slightly over the stone, and then the world swirled around her, a vortex of smoke and fire and heat and flame. She felt herself flying, felt her hair tumbling across her face, the wind brushing her cheeks. And then everything darkened and cleared, and she looked around to find herself lying on the couch in the middle of her apartment.
She gasped, sat up. She was wearing the same jeans and T-shirt she’d been wearing before, but somehow she knew everything she’d experienced had been real. Knew she hadn’t imagined what had happened, because her breasts still tingled from Tariq’s kisses, her sex was still wet from his mouth, and the desire she’d felt was still zinging through her nerves, making her want with a blinding fierceness.
She stood on shaky legs, checked the kitchen, her office, the bedroom. But he was nowhere to be found. Disappointment rushed in on a wave, consumed her from the inside out.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. He didn’t want to see her consumed by the opal? What did that mean? Her fingers grazed the chain, circled around to the back of her neck. And as her fingertips brushed the clasp, it opened as if on cue. The necklace landed in her lap with a soft thud.
Surprise registered. The shop owner had said she wouldn’t be able to take off the necklace until her wish was fulfilled. Was Tariq releasing her from her wish? Could he do that?
Then his last words registered. Words that sent a chill down her spine.
There is still time to save yourself from my curse.
* * *
Darkness surrounded Tariq. The cell was cold, the floor covered in a layer of dirt. As he slid to the ground, leaned his back against the frigid stone wall, and closed his eyes, he told himself he’d done the right thing. Leaving before he corrupted Mira’s soul was the only choice he could have made.
It was one thing to corrupt the soul of a human who went looking for trouble. But Mira was different. If he tainted Mira’s soul, he’d be no better than Zoraida. And even he wasn’t willing to become like her. Not even for his own brothers.
He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but when he awoke, he knew a visit from Zoraida was inevitable. She had to be pissed over what he’d done. She could see—through the opal he wore—into the human world and watched his targets. But he was willing to take the risk. Because for the first time, something besides his own suffering mattered.
Footsteps echoed outside his cell. He opened his eyes just as metal clanged against metal, and the cell door swung outward.
“You’ve a visitor,” the guard barked.
The guard shoved a half-naked man into the cell. Long, dark hair covered his face. He tripped, started to go down, but Tariq lurched to his feet and caught him before he hit the floor. “Nasir?”
The cell door clanged shut again as Nasir lifted his bruised face toward Tariq and tried to smile. His bottom lip was split and bloodied, and he was missing a tooth. “You recognized me even with my makeover? Guess Zoraida’s guards aren’t doing a good enough job.”
Carefully, Tariq lowered his brother to the floor. Disbelief and rage whipped through him. “What did she do to you?”
Nasir grimaced as he scooted back to lean against the wall. His skin was dirty and bruised, and he was thinner than Tariq remembered. As if he’d not only been beaten but starved as well. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“How did she find you?” It was the first time Tariq had talked to his brother in nearly ten years. Not since the day he’d been captured by Zoraida’s goons along the Jagged Coast and brought to this hellhole.
Nasir lifted a shoulder, dropped it. He shook his hair back from his face, a move he’d been doing since they were kids, and for the first time, Tariq saw a flicker of the warrior he knew his brother to be in the battered djinn at his side. “We got a request for help from the Wastelands. Ghuls were reportedly ravaging villages. My unit was moving through the Red Desert when we came across a small settlement, still smoking. They were lying in wait. Ghuls. Wreaking havoc. A battle resulted. I heard a scream, went looking. Came across an innocent about to be raped. I tried to help. Turned out she wasn’t so innocent.”
“Zoraida?”
Nasir nodded. “The Ghuls were hers. They jumped me before I even realized what was happening.”
Nasir’s explanation made perfect sense. His protective streak was legendary. He hated injustice, and when it involved a female, there was no keeping him sidelined. Not if he thought he could help. Tariq knew that protective streak was a result of guilt. The war between the tribes had been going on for hundreds of years, but Nasir had always been the pacifist in the family. The one who thought negotiations and treaties were the way to end wars, not battles. Their father disagreed. As prince, a military career was required, but being a general, commanding legions, had never been part of who Nasir was. Until, that was, his betrothed was killed.
She’d lived in a small coastal village. One that built ships for the kingdom. Ships used in the Gannahmian army. The attack came at night. On a holiday. When most inhabitants were home, asleep in their beds. The entire village was burned to the ground. Every resident killed. And Nasir, who was supposed to be visiting his love for the holiday and wasn’t because he’d been c
alled out on patrol, had never forgiven himself for not being there to protect her.
Tariq leaned back against the cold cement wall, rested his forearms on his updrawn knees. “And Ashur. How did she find him?”
“You know Ashur,” Nasir said with a ghost of a smile. “Can’t stand to be left out of the fold.”
Tariq would have laughed, but the situation was anything but funny. As the youngest brother, Ashur did hate being left out. But he’d never willingly turn himself over to Zoraida. “How did she…?”
“She used me,” Nasir said, all humor gone from his voice. “Said she was willing to make a deal. That she knew where to find you.”
Shit.
“We didn’t even know you were still alive,” Nasir went on. “Father thought you’d perished on the Jagged Coast. We mourned you, Tariq. They held a funeral rite.”
Tariq stared at the bars. So his family had already buried him. Ten years in this hell and they thought he’d died exploring some stupid coast in their kingdom’s name. No wonder no one had ever searched for him.
He looked to his brother as the thread of hope he’d been hanging onto since being brought here solidified. “Surely Father’s looking for you and Ashur now.”
“I’m sure he is,” Nasir said on a sigh. “But he won’t find us. Ashur didn’t tell anyone where he was meeting Zoraida. She warned him to keep it secret. She’s good at disguises, as you know. Ashur didn’t suspect a thing either. Until it was too late, that is.”
Tariq looked back ahead as that thread snapped. He thought of the guards holding Ashur against the bars of his cell the last time he’d seen Zoraida. The way his brother had barely been able to stand. The way his eyes had been glazed and not focusing. “Where is she keeping you both?”
“In a cell. Not far from here.”
“And how long have you been here?”
“I’m not sure. Weeks. Months. It all seems to roll together in my head. They brought Ashur to me a few days ago. But he…”
Tariq’s head snapped around at the hesitation he heard in Nasir’s words. “He what?”
Nasir rolled his head against the stones until he met Tariq’s gaze. “He’s not doing well, brother. They keep pulling him out. And when he returns, he’s even more bloodied and bruised than before. He’s not done anything to deserve the beatings. He barely even moves or talks. I’ve tried to get them to take me.” The good corner of his mouth curled, just a touch, drawing Tariq’s attention to Nasir’s newly split lip. “Works every now and then. But they keep going after Ashur.” Nasir’s smile faded. “He’s—”
Fury consumed Tariq all over again. “He’s me.”
Nasir lifted his head. “What?”
“Zoraida can’t punish me because it would delay her ultimate goal, so she’s taking it out on both of you. And she knows Ashur is weaker. So she’s using him to get to me first.”
Rage rippled through every muscle. She wouldn’t stop at Ashur. She wouldn’t stop until Tariq completely gave in.
He thought of Mira. Of the gift she’d given him. Of her wish. Of his backing away and warning her off that wish. Zoraida had seen what he’d done. The Firebrand opal granted her a bird’s-eye view. And instead of taking her fury out on him, she was doing it to his brothers. Because she knew that would leave a bigger mark than any lash against his skin.
“I don’t know how much more he can take,” Nasir said softly. “And if all three of us die in here…”
Tariq clenched his jaw. This suddenly wasn’t just about Mira’s soul. If they all died, there’d be no heir left in their kingdom. Their father wouldn’t be able to rule much longer. He’d been ready to pass rule to Tariq ten years ago, but Tariq had wanted one last exploration. One last bout of freedom up the Jagged Coast before he was mired in the duties of court. A selfish decision he now regretted.
“She can’t win, brother,” Nasir said into the silence. “If she destroys us, she’ll turn her attention to Gannah. With the Ghuls under her command, her strength the way it is, and us not there to lead the army…”
Nasir’s voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his thought for it to register with Tariq. If what his brother said was true—if Zoraida had aligned herself with the Ghuls—then it meant the war was heating up. With all three princes—generals in the Gannahmian army—dead and the king ailing, what confidence would their soldiers have? How long could Gannah realistically defend itself without a ruling monarchy?
Consequences of his actions swirled behind Tariq’s eyes. Decisions he never should have made filled his thoughts and mixed with images of Mira on that Tahitian beach. And through it all, he knew Zoraida was smarter than he’d given her credit. Torture was one thing. Deciding between life and eternal death was something else altogether. Especially when you were the one forced to choose condemnation for one versus thousands.
“What are you going to do?” Nasir asked into the silence.
Tariq ground his teeth against the injustice building inside him. “The only thing I can do.”
CHAPTER SIX
Mira was pissed.
Not just at the way Tariq had left her but at his dire warning.
Curse? What curse? She dumped a laundry basket full of clean clothes on her couch as she stewed.
At first, she’d been horrified by his rejection of her. Then wigged out over his warning. But the longer she thought about it and the more time that passed, the angrier she became.
Screw him for making her stress and worry like this. Screw him for disappearing on her in the first place. There was no way her little “wish” was going to “destroy” her, as he wanted her to believe. That was a mile of bullshit she definitely wasn’t buying.
This had nothing to do with a stupid curse. It had to do with him. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in her. Her hand stilled on a shirt mid-fold as the thought hit. She probably wasn’t as exotic as the women in his world. Definitely not as aggressive. What had she done during their last encounter? She’d lain there like a lump and let him have all the power. Wasn’t her “wish” about taking charge of some of that power? Wasn’t it his job to teach her how to do that?
She tossed the folded shirt in the basket, picked up a pair of capris as her temper spiked. Well, next time she wasn’t going to sit back and be the docile wallflower he expected. And he wasn’t scaring her off with his mindless threats. So what if he wasn’t attracted to her? This was her wish, dammit, and she wasn’t backing away from it or any challenge.
She finished folding the laundry, put it away, then went into her kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. As she stood at the patio window looking out at the city’s sparkling lights and downed her first glass, she reminded herself that it didn’t matter what Tariq thought of her personally. She wasn’t interested in him. She was doing this for Devin. So that when it was over, she’d have the confidence to snag the only guy she truly wanted.
And she deserved him, dammit. She’d spent way too many years alone. She deserved to have a man fall at her feet.
She poured herself another glass of wine and took it and the bottle to the coffee table in her living room. As she sipped the cabernet, she forcibly relaxed her muscles, breathed deep, and eased onto the couch. To her right, a fire roared in the fireplace. From outside, city lights beat in to illuminate the room. Her confidence grew with every passing second, swirling with the anger still bubbling inside her, any fear or misgivings she’d had drifting to the wayside. She was in charge here, not Tariq. It was his duty to do what she wanted. It was his place to fulfill her wish.
She brushed her fingers across the Firebrand opal resting against her chest, sipped her wine again, and waited. A cloud of smoke filled her living room, followed by Tariq’s muscular body, shoulder-length dark hair, and chiseled features.
Yeah, he was sexy as hell, but who cared? This was about her. She looked up at him, sipped her wine again. Waited.
His face was a mix of emotions she couldn’t read. Not that she cared. He took a step toward h
er. “Mira—”
She pushed to her feet, set her glass on the coffee table, and crossed to him. “I don’t want to hear you say anything but ‘Yes, Mira.’”
She stopped in front of him, pressed a hand against his chest, and marveled at the corded muscle and heat beneath her palm. “And I don’t care if you’re attracted to me or not, Tariq. This isn’t about you.”
His eyes widened. Surprise registered in their dark depths. And a smug smile flitted across her mouth because yeah, she’d surprised herself too. And damn, but she liked this surge of power.
“Show me how you like to be kissed,” she told him. When he hesitated, she added, “‘Your wish, my command.’ Remember?”
His gaze drifted to the Firebrand opal nestled in her cleavage, and her anger built because she sensed he was going to come up with some lame excuse as to why he couldn’t go on. “You’re bound to fulfill my wish, djinni. Kiss me now.”
His dark gaze shot back to hers, narrowed—which only pissed her off more—then skipped past her and swept the room.
What was left of her patience snapped. She grasped his face, tugged it down to hers, and pressed her mouth to his.
He froze, his eyes open wide. She didn’t let go, kissed his plump, masculine lips again, and pressed her body flush against his.
He was hot. Everywhere. Tingles erupted in her breasts, in her hips, anywhere they touched. Dark flashes of arousal rushed through her mind as his hands settled at her hips. She tightened her arms around his neck, tipped her head, slid the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips, waiting, hoping he’d take the hint and open to her.
“Tariq, dammit,” she said against his mouth. “Kiss me. Kiss me like I want right now.”
For a moment, he didn’t move, not a single muscle. And then a growl erupted from his chest. His arms closed around her with stunning force. He opened to her, slid his warm, wet tongue along hers, drawing out her desire and replacing it with a wicked need that consumed every inch of her body in a rush of flames.