Malik: Desert Sheikh Romance

by Marian Tee

  “That girl on Kyria’s right,” Tarif murmured thoughtfully. “Isn’t she the one who won prom queen?”

  Malik reluctantly moved his gaze from Kyria, and an expression of distaste fell over the sheikh’s face when he saw the girl Tarif had singled out. “Indeed.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Rayyan observed.

  Malik’s lip curled. “Passably attractive, but nothing compared to Kyria.”

  The other sheikhs coughed.

  Malik frowned. “You honestly don’t think that girl is prettier than Ky?”

  They honestly did, just as they knew Malik believed otherwise with equal honesty. Kyria was beautiful to them because she was their sister, but it was also precisely because of this reason that they knew she could never be drop-dead gorgeous by any standards. Her innate elegance made her attractive, her lack of artifice charming, but Kyria would never be the type to turn heads.

  But of course Malik didn’t see this.

  “You should all have your eyes checked.” Malik’s tone was of complete disgust.

  “Err, yes.” Khalil coughed. “We probably should.”

  “Let’s continue this conversation later,” Altair said diplomatically. “The ceremony’s about to start, and we’ve yet to say hello.”

  As they moved forward, Hannah and the other girls’ chatter began to drift towards them.

  Please, come on, can’t that be your graduation gift to us? This was from a slightly chubby girl, her tone pleading.

  But they’re really not the type to take photos. This was from Kyria, who sounded uneasy.

  Even old photos would do! We just want something of your brothers’.

  The other girls chimed in similarly, and when the sheikhs saw Kyria start biting her lip, the men shook their heads in unintended synchrony. All of them knew that when she did that, it meant she was about to give in.

  Kyria let out a sigh. “Fine.”

  Malik frowned in disapproval. She was always so soft. No wonder people kept trying to take advantage of her.

  “I’ll mail you their photos, but only if I get their permission to do so. I can never go behind their backs.”

  The other girls cheered.

  You promise?

  Yes.

  All sheikhs? Rayyan, Khalil, Malik, Altair, Tarif?

  To which Kyria said slowly, Everyone except maybe…Malik.

  Malik was stunned, and so were the other sheikhs. Why didn’t she want the other girls to have a photo of him? Could it mean she was…jealous?

  Rayyan almost rolled his eyes when he saw Malik straightened. That was exactly how Malik used to act whenever he was the first to find Kyria’s hiding place.

  Why not Malik, some of the girls complained.

  Because…because…he’s a playboy!

  Malik’s face became expressionless.

  The other girls shrugged off Kyria’s words. So what? I just want a photo.

  But…but…it’s not just that. He’s also…not…photogenic!

  This time, the other sheikhs could no longer help it. Their laughter rang out, drawing everyone’s attention to them, and still they laughed even as the entire auditorium discovered their identities and pandemonium ensued.

  Kyria let out a little cry of distress when she realized that Malik could have heard her. Rushing to him, she whispered, “Did you hear?”

  “That you thought he was a playboy?” Khalil asked.

  “And that he wasn’t, err---” Tarif smirked at Malik. “Photogenic?”

  Rayyan grinned. “We all heard.”

  Kyria let out another cry, and Altair patted her head. “It’s okay, shaqifa. It is never a bad thing to tell the truth.”

  “Best day ever!” Kyria’s eyes were glowing, her face flushed, and she looked like she could at any time explode in sheer joy.

  Malik and Altair scowled, for once on the same side against the evil spirit that had taken possession of Kyria. Riding the camel was only fun for a few minutes, but not when the trail was hours long. Camping was fun when it was really glamping in disguise, with an air-conditioned off-road vehicle ready to dune bash for them on their way to a luxurious desert camp. That was the kind of camping the sheikhs preferred. What Kyria asked for her graduation gift, however, was pure torture.

  Walking under the scorching sun, riding the camel for hours, and carrying everyone’s gear---

  Kyria made a face when she noticed the way the two sheikhs were looking at her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun?”

  “No,” the two brothers answered at the same time, and in the same clipped tone. “We did not.” But this only made Kyria giggle, and the sheikhs exchanged glances. Their initial assumption was indeed correct. Kyria was possessed.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” she protested, still giggling. “I just wanted it to be like the way we used to camp.” She turned to Vanna with a look of appeal. “You get it, don’t you, Mama? Doesn’t this bring back memories, like when we had Papa with us?”

  Vanna’s eyes teared. Oh, this cute, cute girl! Unable to help it, she hugged Kyria as hard as she could, and she didn’t let up even as the daughter of her heart let out a laughing protest.

  “Mama, I can’t breathe!”

  Vanna gave the girl one last hug before reluctantly releasing her. “Sorry, darling.”

  Malik shook his head in disapproval. “You should report Mother to Social Services, Kyria.”

  Kyria laughed, and even Altair grinned while Vanna let out another offended gasp and started rummaging through her bag for something to hurl at her younger son.

  Dinner started as a lively affair, with all of them happily lying when Vanna asked how they liked her cooking. The truth was, Vanna was hopeless in the kitchen. It should have been next to impossible to make something as simple as canned beans and hotdogs with marshmallow to taste bad, but the sheikhs’ mother had somehow succeeded.

  They started a bonfire near midnight and toasted to Kyria’s graduation. They swapped stories afterwards, of the sheikhs’ escapades when they were young, of the way Kyria used to follow Malik around – even all the way to the men’s toilet at one point – and later, much, much later, they talked about their favorite memories of Hadwin.

  By the time they bid each other good night and headed to their separate tents, their hearts were filled with bittersweet pain. None of them had stopped hurting, but at least they could let themselves remember the good times now.

  It was around one in the morning when Malik heard a rustling outside his tent, and he immediately sat up, his hand already reaching for the gun he had under his pillow. The flaps of his tent lifted, and his finger moved over the trigger.

  Kyria poked her head inside, an uncertain look on her face. “Malik?”

  Fuck.

  His breath whooshed out of him. “Lueta.” He glared at her, heart still thundering against his chest at the thought of what he could have done to her. “Don’t just show up like that, Ky. I could’ve shot you.”

  She winced at his words. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  He grimaced. “I’m not angry, just…” He shook his head. “What is it? Do you need anything?”

  She stepped inside his tent, and Malik stiffened. What the fuck?

  “I have a confession.”

  His heart slammed harder against his chest, but it was for an entirely different reason this time. “What is it?” His voice was hoarse, and his gaze swept over her before he could even think of what he was doing. Her long hair was unbound, her cotton pajamas covering her from head to toe. Even so, she was the sexiest thing in his eyes, and Malik shifted uncomfortably on his bed as a now-familiar ache clawed at his groin.

  “Malik…”

  His body stiffened, and blood rushed to his head at the husky sound of her voice. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Could this confession be what he had been waiting for an eternity to hear? Could he finally fuck---

  “I watched The Conjuring last night and now I’m too scared to sleep on my own tent, so if you don’t mind, can
I sleep here, please?”

  The words had been delivered in such a rush that for several moments Malik was only left staring at her blankly.

  “Malik?” Kyria bit her lip. “Can I?”

  Her worried voice hurtled him back to reality, and his mind started working again.

  He was wrong, after all.

  He could not fuck her. Rather, he was just fucked. Still fucked.

  “You idiot.” But even to his ears, the words sounded like they were more for himself than her. He was the real idiot here, to think that things could suddenly change just because she had reached a certain age.

  Kyria smiled at him sheepishly. “I couldn’t help it. I just really wanted to watch it.” Her look turned hopeful. “So can I?”

  Hell no. That was what he should have said since his tent had only one bed. But instead he heard himself say gruffly, “Come on.”

  A smile broke over her face. “Yay!”

  It was his only warning before she threw herself at him, and he grunted as he bore the weight of her body. She wriggled off him, and although it was just one fucking moment---

  Just one fucking moment---

  The fullness of her breasts, the slide of her legs, the softness of her body---

  Just one fucking moment, and it was more than everything he had ever imagined.

  Just one moment, and then it was gone, and she was lying on her side next to him. “It’s just like old times,” she whispered.

  Malik only nodded, not wanting to lie outright. It was not like old times. Not one fucking bit.

  “Good night, Malik.”

  “Good night, Kyria.”

  He watched her eyes close, inhaled the fragrance of her skin, listened to the way her breathing evened as she succumbed to sleep. Malik turned on his back and stared up at the sloped ceiling of his tent. This was going to be a hellishly long night.

  Or so he thought.

  Hours had passed when Malik slowly woke up, and the first thing he became gradually aware of was the feel of a woman lying next to him. Her back was pressed against his chest, and his arms were around her, possessive as a lover. Iris, however, was stiff in his arms, but this only amused him. Was this some kind of role-playing game where she would play hard to get and he’d need to coax a response from her?

  He would indulge her for now, Malik decided in sleepy arousal. He began rubbing his half-erect cock against the cheeks of her ass, which seemed fuller than he remembered. He reached around her body, his fingers finding her pussy with ease---

  A whimper---

  His eyes flew open.

  Kyria.

  He shot to a sitting position. Fuck. Kyria’s trembling figure rose as well, and when she turned to look at him, her face was white and she was looking at him with fear in her eyes.

  FUCK.

  “I’m sorry,” he bit out.

  She nodded jerkily.

  “I thought you were someone else.”

  “O-of course.”

  FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.

  “Did I frighten you?”

  Her lips parted and closed.

  That was answer enough, wasn’t it? He had frightened her. If she wanted him like the way he wanted her, she wouldn’t have been frightened. She would have been aroused. But she was not.

  “I think I should go,” Kyria whispered.

  “I think you should.” His voice was harsh, and it was all he could do not to lash out as Kyria stumbled in her haste to leave his tent.

  It was over.

  He had taken a risk, gambled on waiting for her, and now it was over.

  There was nothing to wait for.

  Part II

  Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting,

  Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

  ~ Edgar Allan Poe

  Although the first five years of Kyria’s life were spent in a small seaside town in Greece, her earliest memories were of picnics by the pool, rollercoaster drives in the desert, and countless cozy dinners at home. In these memories her family was complete, and by this she didn’t just mean her parents. The Al-Atassis were there, too, all four of them. The two families were inseparable in those days, and because she was too young to understand the difference between commoners and royalty, Kyria hadn’t seen anything wrong or strange in it. At that time, all she knew was that she was happy and loved. Everywhere she looked, there was laughter and kindness to be found. And of course, love – lots and lots of it.

  There was such love in everyone’s hearts that when her parents passed away and Hadwin and Vanna had told seven-year-old Kyria they would take care of her, she had believed them. Despite her pain and loneliness, despite the grief that tore at her heart but her young mind couldn’t quite grasp, one thing she had not been was afraid. The Al-Atassis were family, and so there was nothing to be afraid of. She was not alone because she had family.

  Growing up, the Al-Atassis sought to shield Kyria with their wealth and power. No one was allowed to speak to her without an Al-Atassi present, and those who dared to comment on her inclusion in the royal family were severely dealt with.

  It worked, but only for a time.

  Some things in life a person must inevitably learn to face…it was one of Hadwin’s favorite things to quote to his children, and so it was for all of them, and that included Kyria. As her life gradually extended beyond the walls of the palace, her world became bigger but darker, and she soon learned that things weren’t always what they were made out to be. Her position as Vanna Al-Atassi’s legal ward was one coveted by many, and more often than not people she trusted turned out to be nothing but frauds, wanting to get close to her because they either wanted to use or hurt the royal family.

  Girls who were supposed to be her friends, boys who supposedly wanted to date her, teachers who should have had her best interests in their hearts – all of them eventually showed their true colors, and with each betrayal Kyria found herself withdrawing further and further until she could no longer remember how to lower her guard.

  In her quest to protect the royal family from being taken advantage of, Kyria had trained herself to watch her words, to swallow her pride rather than make waves. It might make her appear like a coward in other people’s eyes, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was not bringing shame to the royal family, and thus her image as a quiet little mouse of a woman came to be, with Kyria only coming alive and letting go of herself when in the company of her family. Only with them did she allow herself to smile and speak her mind, to take risks and make mistakes. Only with them did her love pour out, her devotion to them fierce and unwavering. She had already lost so many of her loved ones at an early age, and she would do whatever was needed not to lose another one again.

  For Kyria, nothing was more important than seeing her family happy and keeping it that way. It was her goal, her reason for living, and for the most part keeping them happy was fairly easy to figure out. To please Altair, she did her best to excel in school. To please Vanna, she obeyed all the rules that went with the palace’s restrictive lifestyle. With those two, what she needed to do was clear-cut.

  Unfortunately, it was the complete opposite with Malik.

  The youngest Al-Atassi sheikh was her most favorite person in the world, and for as long as she could remember, Malik was always there to be what she needed.

  As a child, she would be playing alone in her room, and just as loneliness struck, he would appear by the doorway with his usual lazy grin, asking if her afternoon tea party had room for one more. She would be quietly struggling with her homework, and just when she was about to give up, he would come knocking on the door and pop his head in. Need a tutor? And when she found herself missing her parents, he would be there to take her in his arms, and he always knew the right thing to say. You can cry, Ky. It doesn’t mean you love us less or love them more. You cry simply because you love them.

  He was her everything, really, and it was for this reason that her inabi
lity to be of use to Malik troubled her so. Because she had never thought to keep anything secret from him, Malik knew everything there was to know about her. In contrast, the passage of time only showed her how she knew so little of him, and no matter what she did or said, Malik seemed hell-bent on keeping a part of himself out of her reach.

  Countless times, she would glimpse loneliness in his eyes, haunting and devastating in its depth, and it always made her want to cry. Why was he lonely? Was there nothing she could do to make him happy? Was there nothing he needed of her?

  There were days when she would despair, thinking that she would never find the answers to these questions.

  But she did, eventually, and the answers changed her world for good.

  Love, the romantic kind, was something she never cared to think of. Kyria herself didn’t quite understand why this was so, but knowing that it could only cause her family to worry, she simply made herself go through the motions. She pretended to like the same boys the other girls in school liked and said yes every time she was invited to be someone’s date to a prom. She found it utterly bothersome, to be honest, but she also knew better than to speak the truth, not even to Malik. The Al-Atassis took their responsibilities so seriously that if they realized she had zero interest in having a relationship, she knew they’d blame themselves for it. She knew they would think that they had done something wrong in raising her, when ironically it was the opposite. They had done everything right, had made her life so perfect, that Kyria simply didn’t see any reason why she’d need another man in her life.

  If she were ever to like someone that way, he would have to compare to both her brothers, and she honestly didn’t think that was possible. Who could be stronger than Altair, kinder and wiser than Malik? And of course they had to be as extraordinarily handsome as the two, too. In truth, the only men who could hold a candle to them were the other Al-Atassi sheikhs – and they didn’t count since she looked upon them as brothers as well.

  The more she thought about it, the more she believed it probable she would lead a spinster’s life, and she didn't mind at all. She could already envision it, her keeping Vanna company at the palace while they doted on the beautiful children that Altair and Malik would eventually sire.