If I’m looking for comforting lies, I’m looking in the wrong place. He sighs. “I know. I have men looking for him right now. It’s not enough, though. I’m going to take up the search personally.”
“No one could have expected him to accomplish this.” I don’t know why I’m defending these faceless men of his. If they’d done their job, Ali would be … What would he be? Dead? Can I really condone murder?
I think back to way he looked at me this morning, to the way he always seemed to look at me. Yes, I can condone murder. Better him dead than me forced to live within his control.
I don’t know why it’s different with Jafar. As displeased as I am with the way he’s thrust me into these four walls and restricted my ability to move about, there is now real evidence that I’m not ready for more. I hate that weakness, hate how it hamstrings me when I need to be able to run the most. “Promise me that I can leave when I’m ready.”
His hand pauses in the middle of my back. “Elaborate.”
“You can’t keep me locked up here forever. I’ll hate you. I’ll kill you.” My throat tightens, but I force myself to keep speaking, to draw forth this truth into the minuscule space between us. “Don’t make the same mistake my father did.”
He resumes his slow stroking of my back, but there’s a new tension there. “It would be smart to keep you cobbled.”
“You would be working on borrowed time.” I can’t live like this forever. I don’t know what the future holds, but if I wanted to be a dangerous man’s sex toy, I could have married Ali. The thought of his hands on my body sends a shudder through me.
“We’ll talk about this later.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “I recognize that this isn’t ideal for you, but until things are under control, I can’t risk you being hurt.”
If I was a little more idealistic, I’d think he’s expressing concern over my welfare because he cares about me. I know better. The state of my person entirely reflects on Jafar’s power. It did when he dressed me in his shirt and hauled me out of my father’s house over his shoulder. It did when he fingered me in front of the man who holds the territory to the south
And it did when Ali slipped into my room after I was left without protection.
Business. That’s all I am to Jafar. And a warm woman to sink his cock into and play his games. A symbol of his might.
I push against his chest. “I’d like to sleep now.”
“Baby girl.” He captures my chin and lifts my face. His brows are drawn and he doesn’t look particularly happy at my attempt to create distance. “What’s going through that head of yours?”
“Nothing but the truth.”
“Tell me.”
Anger blossoms in me, a fragile flower I cultivate as if my life depends on it. My life may not, but my heart does. I let it bleed into my eyes, let him see exactly how torn and battered I feel. “You have access to everything I am. Allow me a private thought from time to time.”
There’s something on his face, a flicker of indecision, as if I’ve surprised him and he doesn’t know the best way to play this. It’s all a game, after all. Jafar may have mentioned marriage, but if he strong-arms me into going through with it, it will be in name only. I almost smile wryly. Well, I don’t imagine we’ll stop fucking, but there will be no love there. No equality.
I deserve better.
“Let me go.”
“Baby girl,” he says again, and this time he sounds just as tired as I feel. “Haven’t you learned by now? Every part of you belongs to me. Your body, your brain, your heart. All mine.”
This time, when I push away from him, he allows it. The fact that he allows it, that I can’t do even this on my own, it’s too much. I fight my way off the giant bed and stand on shaking legs. “I don’t belong to you.”
“Yes, you do.”
I turn around and walk away. I have to. If I don’t establish some kind of distance, the smallest kind of distance, right now, then I’m lost forever.
All I want to do is crawl back into that bed and let him tell me that everything will be okay. That he really does care. That no matter how unconventional the beginning of this relationship was, it is a relationship. I want him to tell me a lot of things.
No, not things.
Lies.
And because they’re lies, because he might just deliver them as if they’re the god’s honest truth, I have to walk away.
His voice stops me when I reach the door, the snap of command stilling my feet despite myself. “Jasmine.” I don’t turn, don’t answer. I simply wait. Thankfully, he doesn’t make me wait long. “I meant what I said—I’m going after Ali. I might not be home for a few days, but you’ll be safe here.”