The Last Prince of Dahaar(5)
Her empty stomach rolled on itself. How could a man withstand so much without...going mad?
The thought swept through her like a fierce cold wave, and she shivered.
His scrutiny as intent as her own, he said, “Hold out your hands,” in a tone that held raw command.
Zohra sucked in a breath and tucked her hands behind her.
He moved on the bed with lithe grace that would have been beautiful to savor if her heart hadn’t crawled into her throat. She was taller than the average Dahaaran woman and yet he towered over her.
The scent of him had a tang to it that made her suck in a quick, greedy breath even before she knew it. He tugged her hands forward in a sudden move.
Her skin stung where he had gripped her at even the slight friction of his fingers. He sucked in a deep breath. As though he was bracing himself. His fingers gentled as he pushed the sleeves of her tunic back.
Dark impressions framed each wrist. A chill surrounded them, and she had the strangest feeling that his emotions were at the center of it.
She tugged at her hands but he didn’t let go. “How long were you here before I woke up?”
The tension emanating from him rendered her mute.
“How long?”
He didn’t shout the words yet they radiated with utter fury. “Five, maybe six minutes. I didn’t know what to do.”
He let go of her hands with a jerk. “You were not supposed to be in here in the first place. And if you’re reckless enough to be, the minute you saw me, you should have turned around and walked out.”
She shook her head. “I would loathe myself if I just walked away.”
He ran a hand through his hair again, his movements visibly shaken. But he didn’t get off the bed, blocking her escape. “It is a quarter to midnight. I have asked you twice why you are here. If you will not answer me, I will summon the guard. Before you realize it, you will be out of a job, out of a livelihood. All for what? To get a little information on the Mad Prince? A quick photograph, is that it? Tell me who sent you here and I will show lenience.”
He thought she was a servant paid to gather information about him? “No one sent me here, Prince Ayaan.”
He became stiffer, if possible, the rigid line of his shoulders obvious in the feeble light. The bones at the crook between his neck and shoulders stood out in stark relief.
She didn’t want to antagonize him any more than she already had. She didn’t want to ponder about his nightmare, his reaction to her being a witness to it. If she did this right, she wouldn’t need to see him ever again nor hear the gut-wrenching pain she had heard in his cries.
“I...came here of my own volition. It was important for me to talk to you before you left tomorrow morning.”
Slowly, the annoyance in his expression shifted to watchfulness. And she fought the need to shy away from it, to hide from his intense scrutiny.
He knew.
She could pinpoint the exact moment he realized—the watchfulness turned into realization, a flare of color in those beautiful eyes.
That gaze moved over her in a slow sweep, lingering over her face for the longest time, seeing her with new eyes. This time, it wasn’t mere anger that colored it, but wariness, almost as if she had suddenly become dangerous to him.