To Tempt a Sheikh(14)

That shook her out of her hypnosis. "What? When I told you I've been  practicing medicine for years? You think they grant babies medical  licenses now?"

"They do, to prodigies."

"Well, I'm not one. I'll be thirty next August."

"No way." He looked genuinely stunned.

"Yes way."

"See? No end to your surprises."

"Stick around. They're bound to end sometime."

"Oh, I intend to. And I bet they never will."

"Didn't take you for a betting man."

"I'm not. But I'll bet on you anytime."

Only then did she notice he still held her face in his palms. And that  she was shaking all over again. And that he knew that he turned her into  a live wire, knew she was struggling not to succumb. He was also  certain she would.

She glared back. Never again.

"Don't be so sure," he murmured, his tone a sweeping undertow, his exotic accent sliding over her, enveloping her.

She gasped. He'd heard her thoughts, was taking the challenge.

She shook her head, reclaimed her face from his possession.

With a last molten look of challenge, he resumed packing.

Afterward, he fashioned a sled from the helicopter's remains, using  ropes for a harness. On it he loaded a folded tent, their quarters, as  he called it, and piled on blankets, sleeping bags and mats.

She matched him move for move, followed his directions, anticipating his  needs as if they'd been working together for years in perfect harmony.  And she felt that overwhelming in-sync feeling again, just as she'd felt  when he'd assisted her in treating his wound, always reading her next  move, ready for it with the most efficient action.

It wasn't only that. She felt her body gravitating toward him, demanding  his closeness. She resisted the compulsion with an equal force until  she felt she'd rip down the middle.

It's survival, she told herself. Seeking the one person around. Being  out here would have been unsettling enough in controlled conditions. But  she'd just learned that her predicament was far worse than she'd  thought. And with him generating that field of reassurance and  invincibility, who could blame her if all she wanted was to throw  herself into his haven?

And since when did she indulge in self-deception?

This man had jolted things inside her, like electric cables forced life  into a dead battery, from the second she'd turned to face him. Ever  since, his nearness, everything he said or did, revved that life into  something almost … painful. An edge that scraped everything aside. A knot  of hunger that-

"You're hungry."

She jerked at the dark compulsion of his voice, and glared her  resentment at him. Couldn't he have the decency to have one crack in his  imperturbable facade? It might be self-defeating to wish that her one  chance at survival be less than the absolute rock he needed to be to get  them out of this, but she still wished it. No one could be that  unflappable, could he?

He only looked at her with that boundless tranquility that she felt traversed his being. She answered her own question.

Yes, someone could be. And his name was Harres Aal Shalaan.

And he'd just read her mind. Again.

Before mortification choked her, he let her off the hook. "Like you,  your stomach snaps its teeth." And she realized it was. She hadn't eaten  in over twenty-four hours. "So here's the plan. We eat, prepare our  gear then move out. It's 1:00 a.m. now. If we move out in an hour, we'll  have around eight hours before things get too hot. When it does, we'll  set up camp, hide out the worst of it, then set out again before sunset.  The schedule throughout will be two hours on, one hour off. More off if  you need it. At a rate of about five miles every three hours, we'll  make it to our destination in about three days. If we ration ourselves,  our supplies should last."                       
       
           



       

"If they don't, I'll use the IV fluid replacement. We have a few liters still."

"See? You are the best I could have hoped to be with in this mess."

"I'm sure you could have managed on your own," she mumbled, thrilled,  annoyed, feeling things were about to get real at last, and struggling  not to throw herself into his arms and cling.

"You're admitting I'm not a useless nuisance? I'm deeply honored."

She studied him for a moment, a suspicion coming over her.

Was he doing this on purpose? Every time she felt her will flagging, he  teased her or provoked her and it brought her out of her funk and right  back in his face.

Whatever it was, it was working. She grabbed at it with both hands. "It  remains to be seen what exactly you are. You might still take us in the  wrong direction and we'll end up lost. And fossilized."

He laughed. Rich, virile, mind-numbing laughter. Made all the more  hard-hitting as it mixed with a guttural groan of pain. "I don't take  wrong directions. It's a matter of principle."

Yeah. She'd bet. And she was willing to gamble her life on that. She was going to.

Then again, what choice did she have?

None.

But then again, why should she even worry?

He'd gotten her this far, through impossible odds.

If there was anyone in this world who could get them through this, it was him.

But what if there was no getting through it … ?

He suddenly grabbed her hand and yanked her against him.

This time she met him more than halfway. As he'd told her she would.

And whether it was survival, magic, compulsion, or anything else, she needed it. He needed it. She let them have it.

She dissolved in the maddening taste of him deep inside her, with the  thrust of his hot velvet tongue as he breached her with tenderness and  carnality and desperation. She surrendered to his domination and  supplication, all-consuming and life-giving.

Then he wrenched away, held her head, her eyes. "I said you were safe  with me, Talia, in every way. I'll keep you safe, and I'll see you safe.  This is a promise. Tell me you believe me."

She did. And she told him. "I believe you."





Seven




Talia wondered, for the thousandth time since she'd been snatched from  her rented condo at gunpoint, if any of the things that had happened  since could be real.

One thing was certain, though. Harres was.

And she was following him across an overwhelmingly vast barren landscape  that made her feel like one of the sand particles shifting like solid  fluid beneath her feet.

They'd set out over six hours ago. Before they had, during the hour  Harres had specified for preparations, he'd studied the stars and his  compass at length, explaining how he was combining their codes with his  extensive knowledge of his land's terrain and secrets to calculate their  course. He'd said he needed her to know all he did. She thought that  impossible when she couldn't imagine how he fathomed different landmarks  when sameness besieged them. Yet he'd insisted it was vital she  visualize their path, too, and somehow managed to transmit it to her.

They'd just embarked on their third two-hour hike. He still walked  ahead, seemingly effortlessly, carrying his mammoth backpack and towing  the piled sled while she stumbled in his wake with her fraction of their  load. Which was still surprisingly heavy. He'd been keeping them on  paths of firm sand, so it wasn't too hard. At first. She'd soon had to  admit anything heavier would have been a real struggle.

She still continuously offered to carry more. Each time he'd answered  that silence would boost their aerobic efficiency and increased the  steps he kept between them no matter how hard she tried to catch up with  him. It wasn't only adamant chivalry, it felt as if he was making sure  he would be the first to face whatever surprises the seemingly  inanimate-since-creation desert brought, wouldn't let her take a step  before he'd ascertained its safety, testing it with his own.

Acknowledging his protection and honoring it, she treaded the oceans of  granulated gold in the imprints of his much larger feet, feeling as if  she was forging a deeper connection with him with each step, gaining a  more profound insight into what made this unprecedented-and no doubt  unduplicable-man tick.

It had been hours since dawn had washed away the stars and their inky  canvas, the gradual boost in illumination bringing with it an equally  relentless rise in temperature. While that had made each step harder  than the last, it had given her a new distraction to take her mind off  counting them, off the weakness invading her limbs.

He'd shed one layer of clothing after another, was now down to the  bandages she'd changed an hour ago and the second-skin black pants  fitted into black leather boots. With his back to her, she was finally  free to study him, to realize something.                       
       
           



       

He was perfect.

No, beyond that. Not only couldn't she find fault with him, but the more  she scrutinized, the more details she found to marvel at.