She arched her back, needing more, wanting all of him, and yet he held himself still, pushing up on his elbows to see her once more.
“You are my wife.” The words rang through the room, and they made no sense and complete sense all at once.
“Yes. And I want that to be more than just sex.”
His eyes locked to hers and then he rolled them easily, pulling her to his chest, holding her hips as he thrust into her, his eyes fixated on her breasts as she moved up and down his length.
“You cannot change what we are, sharafaha,” he said, and she blotted the words out, because she was riding a wave that demanded all her attention, all her focus. She dug her nails into his shoulders, bringing her body down against his, so her sensitive nipples scraped against his hair-roughened chest.
“You think?”
And she moved now, her own body lifting faster, taking him deeper, so that when she exploded it was with Malik in her grip, Malik falling apart with her, his hoarse cry spilling into the room as his body emptied into hers.
She lay on top of him, spent, exhausted and strangely sad, despite the incredible euphoria she’d just experienced.
Malik held her for a moment, their breath equally frantic and heavy, and then he rolled her onto her back, pushing himself up onto his elbow to look down at her.
“I think we married under duress,” he said quietly, roaming her face with his indolent gaze. “And that our relationship is not what yours was with Addan.”
“But it can be more than this –,”
He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her.
“It will never be more than sex.” The words were fired with intent and determination. “I have no interest in becoming your friend and confidante, of pretending to be what Addan was to you. Do not make the mistake of imagining you can replace my brother so easily.”
His words were like bullets against her heart and a burst of anger jackknifed out of her chest. She was surprised by his callousness, angered by the way he spoke of her relationship and Addan.
“Don’t you think I know that?” She sat up, her fury contained in every line of her body. “Don’t you think I’ve always known that? Where he was a man of honour and kindness, gentle and thoughtful, compassionate and cerebral, you are the barbarian equivalent, all brawn and no Goddamned heart! You will never be even a tenth of the man he was. I didn’t ask for any of this and I’m doing my level best to be everything this country needs. And all I’m asking in exchange is respect and some common decency.”
She glared at him angrily, hurt making her lash out. “I’ve hated you for as long as I’ve known you but for Addan, I concealed that. And now we’re married and I want to do what I’ve been trained for – I want to be a part of this country.”
He was very still, not reacting to her tirade, not showing – at first – that he’d even heard her words.
“Then you must get pregnant and give my country an heir. As soon as we have our royal bloodline assured, you can go back to hating me from the other side of the palace. And believe me when I say that day can’t come soon enough.”
He only slept an hour, and it was a fitful sleep. His dreams were broken. Full of the desert and the eagles he travelled with, his brother and their last trip together.
And he dreamt of his wife. Her soft, naked body, pliable and sweet and so hungry for him. So hungry she couldn’t resist him even when she loved Addan, when she wished he had lived and she was married to him now.
He saw her earnest expression, asking him about the desert tribes, and he felt that same swell of resentment he’d felt that afternoon.
He heard the words she’d thrown at him.
Where he was a man of honour and kindness, gentle and thoughtful, compassionate and cerebral, you are the barbarian equivalent, all brawn and no Goddamned heart! You will never be even a tenth of the man he was.
Her words drummed through his soul with a violence that surprised him. Not the thoughts – they were no surprise. But his reaction to them! Hearing someone speak your misgivings aloud, having someone confirm for you what you know to be the absolute truth – it sat inside him like a rock and a blade, so that, after an hour of fitful tossing and turning he gave up on sleep, dressed, and went to his office to brood and be generally discontent.
Only there, in what he had once considered his sanctuary, her words hounded him. He heard them butting against the ancient tapestries, flying at him from all directions, her manner in issuing them so infuriatingly superior.
But it wasn’t that which had got under his skin.
It was her heartbreak.
The stoicism with which she tried to hide it – and failed. It was the way she invoked Addan so easily, as though he were still living, as though in talking to Malik she could keep him alive.
It was her grief.
A grief he understood, for it was one he shared.