The Last Prince of Dahaar(49)

                “Then are you going back on your word and forbidding me from continuing my work, my life as before?”

                He leaned close and her skin snapped to life. The faint scar on the top of his left eyebrow should have made him look flawed. Even just a little would have been fair. Instead, it only added to his powerful personality. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? I think nothing would make you happier than if I became that arrogant bastard you envisaged that first night in Siyaad.”

                She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “If you turned into an arrogant jerk, and by the way you are halfway there, I wouldn’t have to worry about you killing yourself. I would be the merriest widow in the world, wouldn’t I? All the freedom and none of the duties.”

                His mouth touched the corner of hers, and her knees wobbled. Molten heat prickled along her skin even as she cursed her betraying body. “Is Faisal going to be there, Zohra?” He whispered the words into her skin—an assault on her senses and a cutting insult all wrapped in one. “Is that why you are so eager to return to work?”

                She pushed his hand from her, tears gathering in her eyes. “You think I proposed starting a life with you ten days ago and now am panting to see Faisal again? I guess you really are no different when it comes to what you think about me, are you, Ayaan?”

                She turned away from him, hating the fact that he could wound her so easily. His opinions were beginning to matter too much, and yet she had no way to stop it.

                Before she could take another step, he pulled her back to him. He held her loosely this time, his thumb catching the tears that threatened to fall. “Ya Allah, I’m not worthy of your tears, Zohra.” The frost in his gaze thawed, his mouth lost the tightness. He ran a hand through his hair, looked around, as though searching for the right words. His gaze found her again, hungry, intense. “I spoke without thinking. That remark...it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. Please accept my apology.”

                The air left her lungs in a loud whoosh. “Then accept that I’m coming with you, Ayaan. I did nothing to violate our agreement in the past ten days. I stayed far away from you and believe me, it was a miracle in—”

                “You exist, Zohra. That is torment enough for me.”

                Her heart skidded to a halt. His words spoken through gritted teeth were soft, and yet rang with a depth of emotion. The hungry intensity of his gaze was etched into her mind, the naked want in it inched its way around her heart.

                He turned around and walked out.

                Hugging herself hard, Zohra stared at his back. Familiar resentment flared at his dismissal. She should turn around, she had never ventured where she was not welcome before.

                But she had also spent eleven years doing everything she could to prove that she cared nothing for Siyaad. Perversely, her every action had been shaped by the very thing she refused to be dictated by.

                Nothing she had done had been because she’d wanted to do it. She had thought she had loved Faisal, that she hadn’t fought back against her father’s family because she’d never wanted a place among them, now...now she was not sure of anything.

                But when it came to the man who had married her...she wanted to stand by him. Not because it was her duty, not because of what it would mean for her future. But because she wanted to.

                It was a crystal clear sign in a sea of murky actions motivated by her anger toward her father, by years of hurt that she had nursed into bitterness.

                She had no name for what drove her to it, she didn’t even understand it.