Their hands were upon each other immediately, tugging at their clothes, slipping beneath the layers to feel the warmth and contours of each other’s bodies. Within moments they were stripped of their robes and underclothes, and Zavian carried her naked to the bed, lit only by a sidelight of brass lamps.
She took his hand and pulled him down to her, and they kissed as she wrapped her legs around him. With one swift movement, he was inside her. She cried out, and her head fell back as he pushed further, filling her completely.
He held her face, his eyes searching hers as if needing to know something only her body could tell him, as he thrust rhythmically into her. What he wanted to know from her, she couldn’t tell, but as she watched his expression change and intensify, she knew that, whatever he didn’t say, he was hers.
The thought gave her power, and she writhed in his arms, determined to break down the barrier he refused to drop and make him see what was before his eyes. Her. Not a woman to own, or to dominate, but a woman to love.
But in the end, it was her own barriers which dissolved under his skillful lovemaking, and she came first, her whole body—from the tips of her toes to her fingers—tingling as the orgasm rolled and coiled inside her and then doubled again as he came, filling her with himself.
They lay gaining their breath for a few moments, and then she slid on top of him, determined to gain the upper hand. After a long lingering kiss, he was ready for her again, and she sat astride him and slipped slowly onto him.
Zavian watchedas Gabrielle rose and fell, her breasts peaked and rosy under the warm lamplight, her hair in messy disarray around her shoulders, and her eyelids fluttering closed. Her movement were so sensuous, so natural, so instinctive, so primeval that the setting seemed perfect. The flickering candles encased in their brass lanterns cast her moving shadows across the undulating walls of the tent, which moved slightly with the quickening breeze.
The music continued outside, the strains of the stringed violin echoing their own passion. Gabrielle rose and fell with the vibration of the music floating in on the wind. It felt as if they were one. Zavian was no longer aware of anything except for Gabrielle, at the center of the maelstrom of passion, her tight, wet body encasing him, shifting against him, his hands caressing her skin, his eyes drinking in the beauty of her slender body, so slight and yet so powerful. His control was fracturing at the onslaught of her power. He saw the moment she orgasmed, her body and face lit up with an ecstasy that was ethereal, other-worldly. And he desperately wanted to bring her back into his world.
She leaned over, her breasts brushing against his chest, and kissed him. He put his arms around her and their kiss deepened. As one they rolled over, and he withdrew and took satisfaction at the corresponding jerky movements of her body, as she reacted to his thrusts. He threaded his fingers through hers and spread her arms wide, pinioning with his hips, taking his pleasure just as she’d taken hers. Except this was no one-sided pleasure. It was as if they were one entity, each movement, each thought, each feeling echoed in the other, felt by the other.
Slowly, imperceptibly, they inched their way to the brink. Their eyes fastened onto each other with an urgency and intensity as if holding onto each other in a turbulent sea to save each other. They came as one, his seed spilling deep inside her, claiming her for his own. She opened her mouth in a soft moan, and his lips found hers.
He rolled to his side, Gabrielle captured tight in his arms, and he kissed her hair, her forehead, her closed eyelids. Then he settled back. There were no words between them because they’d communicated far more than words could. But as the music stopped and the wind picked up, and sand crept under the tent, reality seeped back in, and a sullen dread filtered through Zavian’s consciousness. His arms didn’t loosen their hold of Gabrielle, but his mind shifted away.
What had he done? He’d thought to bring her to Gharb Havilah, he’d thought to seduce her, to rid himself of the memories of her which had haunted his every waking and sleeping moment since she’d left him. He’d thought to cauterize the pain she’d caused by proving to himself that it was ephemeral, that it was a residue, a ghost in his mind which would be extinguished. Except it hadn’t.
Like some wandering seed, it had, instead, lodged deep inside of him, and it had proved not to be uprooted so easily. Indeed, it had blossomed. He could feel the tentacles of her growing inside, trying to take over his body and mind. The thought of being taken over, being under the control of someone else, terrified him.
He swallowed as he moved first his hand, then his arm from her body. She was fast asleep, but she shivered and snuggled against him. He closed his eyes and grimaced as he freed himself again. This time she didn’t move. Her breathing was regular, and a soft, rosy blush lay on her cheeks.
He shook his head and slowly got dressed. He wanted her in his life, of that he was clear now. The trouble was, she wanted something he couldn’t give. Because how could you give your heart when it was made of stone? His own hard heart lay between him and happiness, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Chapter 10
Gabrielle wasn’t sure where she was when her eyes flickered open to a gray and shadowy pre-dawn light that barely penetrated the tent. She’d dreamt she was with her grandfather after a day’s digging in the desert. That the fire had died down and they were talking with ease about everything under the moon before they retired to bed. The same sense of comfort and rest and love had settled over her, calming her unquiet spirit. The same feeling was still with her as she looked around, trying to make out the shapes of things within the tent to place herself. Then she heard a rustle of clothing, and she turned to see a dark shape of a man coming towards her. She wasn’t scared. She knew in an instant that it was Zavian, and everything else fell into place.
“You’re awake,” he said. There was a rasping sound as he struck a match and lit a candle before placing the brass cover back on the lantern. He stayed there for a few seconds, adjusting the flame, his face lit randomly by the darting flame, one moment casting his face into shadow, his strong features softened, the next highlighting the whites of his eyes, distorting his familiar features until he looked like the very devil. The thought made her sit up, now wide awake.
“Just,” she replied. “What time is it?” She groped in the shadows for her phone.
“Before dawn. I wanted to speak with you before the world awoke.”
She felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. She sat up more and leaned back against the soft pillows, drawing the cover to hide her nakedness. “That sounds… serious.”
He smiled an enigmatic smile that told her nothing. “And I’ve brought coffee.”
“Um, you’re trying to soften me now, before you get to the serious stuff.”
“Maybe.” He passed her a cup.
She breathed it in, closing her tired eyes against the steam, feeling invigorated simply from inhaling its strength. She took a sip. “Well, it’s working.”
He sat down—not close to her, she noticed—but made no attempt to drink his own coffee. “Good. Then perhaps we can begin.”
“Begin… what?”
“To talk about our future. After last night you can no longer deny your future is here, in Gharb Havilah. You are accepted by our people, and you are accepted by me.”
His plainly spoken words fell like a challenge between them both. She placed her cup onto the side table with a shaking hand and swung her legs off the bed, still clutching the covers around her.
“On second thoughts, perhaps I should be dressed before you throw important questions at me.” She rose and walked over to where her clothes were scattered.