His life was here, and he couldn’t leave it—not before, and certainly not now.
With a heavy heart, she slipped from the room—there were only thirty or so people now, including her family. Good friends of Samir’s and Adan’s, the grief here was more relaxed and genuine, none of the formality of the earlier procession. She was glad Samir had that support, but for Cora, she just needed some space, and a small balcony she’d observed earlier would offer the perfect spot.
The night was still warm, the heat of the desert heavy in the air, so she tilted her head back and let it wrap around her, inhaling the smell of the ancient sand and listening to the whispers of the trees, feeling the connection to this magical place that Samir had created inside of her with his words alone, as though it were a living creature. She ran her fingers lightly over the railing, cool to the touch, and felt a connection tohim,the man to whom this land was a lifeblood.
One halfof him had been trained on her all night. He’d known exactly where she was without having any conscious intention of following her, it had simply been the magnetic pull of her body to his, reminding him, a little, of the first night they’d met. In the crowds of the art gallery, it had been Cora who’d drawn his attention again and again, not the masterpieces on the wall. The moment she left the room tonight, he felt as if a vacuum had been formed, and he knew he would follow. He waited only so long as he could, a few minutes, before he could excuse himself from the conversation and, with eyes straight ahead, discouraging any conversation, he stepped in her footsteps, out of the room. A door was slightly ajar, giving away her location.
When Samir went through it, onto the balcony, he made sure to pull the door closed fully.
The stars were bright against the evening sky, too bright for the grief that weighed in his heart. Cora spun at the sound of the door closing, and her face crumpled with emotions—grief, sympathy, sorrow, pain. He understood them all.
They stepped at the same time, closing the distance between them, her arms wrapping around him, holding him so tight, as tight as she possibly could, and he made a gruff, guttural sound that was dragged from so deep inside of his chest he felt it grate in his gut.
“Samir, I’m so sorry,” she whispered the platitude as she tilted her face to his, and he stared down at her, this woman who knew him so well, who he knew despite the fact she’d worked so hard to keep him at a distance, and he felt her understanding. She simplygothow he felt. “I didn’t know. It was only by chance I heard, or I would have come sooner.” She frowned, reality piercing that condolence. “Or I would have called. I would have been here for you in some way. I’m so sorry.”
Her words twisted a blade in his chest, because for all she would have been willing to support him through this, it would not have been possible. Whatever they’d been doing a fortnight ago was no longer remotely an option for Samir. He could no longer travel without scrutiny and a pack of security, he could no longer expect to live without consequence. He was the last heir of the family. He had to take that seriously. His life was in Al Medina, and everything he was, every part of his soul, needed to be committed to that life.
But looking at Cora, holding her against him, he simply wanted to run away.
“Where would you run to?” She asked, quietly, so he realised he’d said the words aloud, an admission he was far too proud to make to anyone, even Cora.
But he’d said it now. “Anywhere with you.” He frowned. His mouth was moving without his consent. “For one night.”
Her eyes swept shut, a bitter smile on her lips. “Can’t we?”
“Leave the palace?”
She bit down on her lip. “I want to be alone with you.”
It was what he wanted and needed most in the world. He had barely stopped to breathe since Adan’s death, much less process what had happened. “I cannot leave,” he said quietly. “Not without security.”
She flinched, lifting a hand and pressing it to his chest. “You must hate that.”
He resented how well she knew him then, how much she understood. His eyes flashed towards the desert, the desert that called to him as it always had. No longer could he simply mount his horse and ride out with the moon forging his path. Not until he’d secured an heir, at least, and the risk of leaving the kingdom in leadership disarray had abated.
“Samir,” her voice wobbled. “What can I do? I want to help you. I hate—I hate what you’re going through.”
He closed his eyes, her genuine offer to help flooding something deep in his heart. “Yet I must go through it.”
“Not alone though.”
“Yes, alone,” he said with a gruff note to his voice. “We cannot keep seeing each other. Not now.”
“I know that. But tonight—,”
He heard the offer. He understood. He groaned, burying his face in the sweet curve of her neck, inhaling her. “It would be one night,” he said. “And I would be using you to forget the reality of my life. That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Don’t say that,” she said quietly. “You could never use me.”
“I cannot see you again after this, Cora,” he straightened, latching his eyes to hers. “My duty must be to Al Medina, my life completely here now.”
Tears sparkled on her eyes. “I know that.” She tilted her chin with defiance and strength. “But tonight, I’m here and I want to help you.”
It was an offer that meant too much. He couldn’t refuse. He couldn’t turn her away, not when she was the sum total of everything he needed, just for now.
9
THERE WAS NO CONTROL, no patience, no gentle exploration. He buried himself in her with all the need that ravaged his blood. A need he’d felt even before Adan’s death—a need that had driven him deep into the desert, away from the palace, a need that had driven him wild. But after Adan, after the week he’d had, Cora was a lifeline, and he clung to her, taking possession of her, making her his, making her cry out, his big, strong body mastering hers with ease, his hand clamping her wrists over her head, holding her still as he took and gave pleasure many times over, his mouth ravaging her breasts, the sensitive flesh at the base of her throat, dragging over her until pale pink marks were scored by his facial hair.