Malik: Desert Sheikh Romance

by Marian Tee

  It was a good life.

  But it was not to be.

  If love was something she spared a thought about once in a blue moon, sex was something Kyria never really thought of at all. She knew of course what went down, knew that her brothers were no saints who didn’t indulge in it. She was curious about it, but she was also all too conscious about the possible consequences. She would rather die a virgin than risk becoming a disgrace to her family, and this led to Kyria developing a reputation for being somewhat of a prude, despite her going out on dates with other guys.

  Another thing she became known for in school was her closeness to the Al-Atassi sheikhs. With every year that passed, more and more girls pestered her for any information she could dish out on them, and on her graduation day, the girls in her class were practically down on their knees begging for a souvenir photo of the sheikhs.

  In the end, she could only promise a compromise: she would mail them photos only if the sheikhs themselves allowed her to do so. And when pressed to clarify, she said yes to photos of Khalil, Tarif, Rayyan, and Altair. But somehow, she just couldn’t make herself agree to mailing them photos of Malik. Maybe it was because he was her favorite brother, but Kyria just hated the thought of any of the other girls having his photo to moon over. However, she also knew she was being unreasonable and so when the girls had demanded for an explanation, a rattled Kyria spoke rashly of things she hoped would turn them off.

  She told the girls Malik was an incurable playboy, but this only made the other girls’ eyes shine even brighter, as if attracted even more to the idea of falling for a bad boy. Desperate now, she then told them that Malik was far from being photogenic, and surprisingly the ploy had worked. The girls had quickly lost interest in having Malik’s photo. What was the point if he wouldn’t look good in it?

  It was altogether an unexpected victory, and although she later on had to beg for Malik’s forgiveness upon realizing that he had heard her say all those dreadful things about him, Kyria couldn’t make herself regret it. She still did not want those girls to have his photo. As for the reason why, however, well…

  He’s my favorite brother, Kyria told herself firmly. That was all it could be.

  When her family asked her what she wanted as a high school graduation gift, Kyria had only thing in mind. She wanted to camp under the stars, the sand soft on her feet. She wanted to listen to the desert’s sounds blend with the crackling of a bonfire. She wanted to be with her family, just them, like the way they used to.

  Her wish had come an obvious shock to everyone, but since the Al-Atassis had always wanted to spoil Kyria, their agreement was a foregone conclusion, and the family left for the desert the next day. Malik and Altair grumbled throughout their long and arduous walk, Vanna sighed and grimaced during the bumpy camel ride, but Kyria had only laughed, knowing they were just fooling around. The truth was in their eyes, all of them. They had missed this, too.

  On their first night, Kyria had gone to her own tent, sleepy and pleasantly tired, and already looking forward to what tomorrow would bring. But then she heard rustling outside their tent, remembered the scary scenes from a horror movie she had recently watched, and she had run into Malik’s tent like a headless chicken.

  Can I sleep here, please? These were words she would never even consider saying to either Vanna or Altair. It wasn’t that she loved them any less, but it just didn’t feel right to trouble them more than she had already done. But Malik was different. She could tell Malik anything, be herself with him and not worry about what he would think. If there was anything she needed, she knew she could always count on Malik, and that night wasn’t any different.

  With his solid presence next to her, fears were instantly vanquished, and her last thoughts before sleep claimed her were of him, her dearest and beloved Malik. And in her dreams, he was there, her most precious brother. But when morning came, Kyria woke up to the sudden, terrifying realization that Malik wasn’t just that.

  Before being a brother or even a powerful sheikh, Malik was above all…a man.

  A man with a man’s body, as hard as hers was soft, powerful and big, rough and hot---

  And at that moment, Malik’s body was wrapped around hers like a man would hold his woman.

  Time stopped, her world spinning out of control and turning upside down.

  Malik was her brother, so why was the feel of him suddenly making her burn?

  Her brother, and oh Servant of God, all she could think of was how hard his body was.

  Kyria squeezed her eyes shut, but it only made things worse, the images flashing in her mind so shockingly erotic---

  Malik kissing her, touching her, fucking her---

  She had never thought of such things before. Never. And yet now, she could think of it so easily it was as if those thoughts had always been with her, almost as if she always had the soul of a wanton in her, and prurience ran in her blood like it was her destiny.

  The thought shamed and appalled her, her body instinctively recoiling from self-loathing, and the moment she did, Malik’s body moved behind her.

  AH!

  Kyria’s lips parted in a soundless gasp as she felt his cock growing hard against her ass.

  Pull away, her mind screamed. Pull away now!

  But she could not.

  Something forbidden from within had taken her captive, rendering her body immobile. A dangerous haze of sensation blurred her gaze, and the violent drumming beat of her heart filled her ears. Her lips felt dry for no reason, and oh, how she burned. Every inch of her body felt ablaze with fire, making her want to writhe---

  And that was when she felt it.

  Malik starting to move behind her, and her lips parted in a soundless moan as he started rubbing his cock against her. His hands squeezed the cheeks of her ass, and she almost let out a sob. One arm went around her body, and her throat locked.

  Oh God.

  His hand slid down her body.

  Stop him, for the love of all things holy, stop him!

  But she could not make herself move, and so his hand continued on its path, its caressing fingers unimpeded. Lower and lower it went, and harder and harder it became for Kyria to breathe---

  And finally, his fingers stopped---

  On that place she realized she had both feared and hoped he would touch---

  Her flesh pulsed under his fingers, soft and swollen, and oh so wet. She was so horrifyingly, shockingly wet that suddenly everything felt too much, and a whimper tore past her lips. The sound shattered the silence, ripping through the dangerous web that sleep and unconscious desires had woven about their minds and bodies.

  They sprang apart, Kyria rising up in clumsy haste while Malik’s powerful form tensed like someone had pointed a gun at him. She turned to look at the sheikh, and the sickened expression on his beautiful face made her feel faint and dizzy. She didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t know how to feel about it---

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  “O-of course,” she managed to say even as his apology made her shiver for some reason.

  His jaw tightening, Malik asked curtly, “Did I frighten you?”

  Kyria’s lips parted, but no words came out. What could she say when she still didn’t understand what had happened? Without meeting his gaze, she whispered, “I think I should go.” A part of her was dying to be alone, to have some time and space to make sense of things. But the other larger part of her…wanted something else. It wanted to hear Malik say he wanted her to stay, to tell her…

  “I think you should.”

  Kyria rushed out of his tent without another word, her head lowered to keep him from seeing her tears. Even now, she still didn’t know what she wanted him to say, but she also knew it no longer mattered.

  Malik’s words had made it very clear what he wanted, and because she only lived to do what he wanted, then that was how it should be.

  Part III

  As good as Malik and Kyria got along toge
ther, it was not uncommon for the two to have their misunderstandings, and neither ever cared to make any secret of it. More often than not, Kyria’s complaints often revolved around Malik being too strict. Why was she forbidden from visiting this place? Why was she prohibited from doing that? Why, why, why? And as much as she strove to be dutiful and meek, where Malik was concerned her hard-earned composure would sometimes desert her. In her younger years, this had translated to tantrums and locking herself in her room and refusing to eat while Malik was around. Eventually, Kyria outgrew her passive-aggressive tendencies, but this in return was replaced by yelling matches that could be heard throughout the hallways of the palace. Thankfully, these generally lasted for but a short while, to the point that the staff had learned to simply shrug it off and stop panicking every time they heard raised voices coming from Malik’s study.

  As for the young sheikh himself, most of his grumblings had to do with Kyria’s quiet but unshakable bid for independence. Why don’t you ask for my help, you fool? Why must you insist on these unnecessary chores, you idiot? Anyone unfamiliar with palace life would have been stunned speechless were they to hear the way Malik raged at his mother’s ward. Of the five Al-Atassi sheikhs, Malik was considered to be the gentlest and most chivalrous, the one with the most reasonable temper. And yet every time Kyria got into trouble, it was as if a beast would come to take possession of the sheikh, and there would be no calming him until Kyria was made to promise never to take this or that risk again.

  And so it went, with the palace becoming accustomed to seeing Malik and Kyria have at it like they were at each other’s throats, only to make up in the same day and once again become inseparable as twins. Their fights were crazy but amusing, and the palace was used to it. What neither the royal family nor staff was used to, however, was the two being so obviously at odds with each other – with none of them saying a word about it.

  Everyone kept waiting for one or the other to snap – for either Malik to start shouting or Kyria to start crying – but nothing happened. Instead, the two were entirely civil, exchanging nods upon passing each other in the hallway and when either was asked about what happened, Malik would only shrug and Kyria would only smile, neither of them inclined to say a word.

  On Malik’s birthday, Vanna hosted a small intimate dinner in their private wing, with only the other four young sheikhs as their guests. She was quietly hoping that this would be the night the two would make up, but instead everyone’s jaws ended up dropping when Malik and Kyria took their seats at opposite ends of the table, as far apart from each other as possible. Vanna did a quick mental tally and almost let out a gasp. This would make it ten days in a row. Ten, dear God! This was the longest those two were at odds, and she wondered uneasily if this was far more serious than she had thought.

  As soon as dinner ended, Vanna sent a politely worded summons to her younger son and paced the length of her room while waiting. She waited and waited, and her temper simmered hotter all the while, knowing that Malik was doing this deliberately to let her know that he preferred she mind her own business.

  Ha!

  Too bad for him, she was his mother, and it was her God-given right to meddle until the day she died.

  When Malik finally entered her room, she managed to wait only until the door closed behind him before snapping, “Have you lost your manners that you do not mind making your own mother wait?”

  “If I say yes,” he drawled, “will you give me leave so that I may search for my missing manners?”

  Vanna threw her son a fuming look. “This is not the time to be funny, Malik.”

  But this only made his lips twist in a sardonic smile. “And you think I don’t know this?”

  Oh!

  Her mouth formed an O of dismayed surprise as she saw the look in his eyes.

  “It’s over, Mother.”

  “What do you mean?” she whispered, stricken.

  “She doesn’t want me,” the sheikh said quietly. “That is all you need to know, and this will be the last time we speak of it.” Malik spun away without another word, the door shutting closed with a thud of such painful finality behind him that it made Vanna jerk.

  Outside, Malik strode down the hallway at a brisk, grim pace. He was going to fuck his brains out with the first willing woman he found, and he would keep doing it until he had thrown out every piece of her that was lodged in his heart.

  As Malik left the palace in a quest to thoroughly annihilate his feelings, the girl whom he sought to forget was doing the opposite. Curled up in her bed, Kyria allowed her tears to fall under the cover of darkness. She missed Malik, but she felt she had lost the right to be close to him again. His coldness hurt, but more than that, it made her feel ashamed. Almost two weeks had passed and even now she could still vividly recall with humiliating clarity how his touch made her feel.

  She shouldn’t have felt such pleasure, but she had. She should have moved away, but she hadn’t. As such, all of this was her fault, and now only one question remained.

  What to do about it?

  Kyria fell asleep before she could decide on an answer, but unbeknownst to her (and Malik for that matter), the same question was being asked in another part of the castle, where Vanna was currently in a secret meeting with Altair and her nephews.

  Should they or should they not interfere?

  The five of them weighed the pros and cons, and in the end their verdict was unanimous. Painful as it was to see both Malik and Kyria struggling, this might be the final test that the two needed to overcome. Whatever it was that had them at odds, it might be for the best. Malik had really never allowed himself to see anyone else, and whether Kyria knew this or not, she hadn’t been able to see anyone else beyond Malik either. But things had changed, and now only time would be able to tell if they were truly for each other.

  Time healed all wounds or so they said, but what few ever cared to add was that some wounds could be picky. Some wounds needed a certain time to heal and unfortunately for both Malik and Kyria, that time hadn’t come yet. For the sheikh, his temporary remedy was in devoting himself to his role as minister in the newly formed cabinet of Khalil, now the Emir Sheikh of Ramil. He kept himself as busy as he could, and what free time was left was divided between his breeding business and finding more women to fuck.

  For Kyria, her options were more limited as Khalil was still in the process of reversing the kingdom’s outdated laws that tended to heavily police the actions of women. She poured all her time and effort in her studies, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to be so tired that the moment she’d get in bed, she’d fall asleep and not even have the energy to dream. It wasn’t her favorite thing these days, dreaming, mostly because when she did, it would always be about Malik and that morning.

  Shortly after his coronation, the king married Harper Griffiths, an American woman whom Kyria had the pleasure of meeting several times in the past. She liked Harper a lot, and so when the king had asked for her help to secure the queen’s position at court, Kyria hadn’t even thought of hesitating, never mind if the particulars of his request were somewhat odd. For his birthday, he wanted Kyria to mingle with his guests and make more effort than usual to speak her mind. Despite her private misgivings, she did as asked, and the results were exactly as she feared.

  One of the foreigners she had talked to started making a scene, and forcing herself to swallow her pride and anger, Kyria had prepared herself to apologize – only to realize she didn’t have to. Harper had suddenly stepped in, defending her just like the queen everyone knew she could be, and it was then Kyria understood that this was all part of Khalil’s plan.

  How terrifyingly devious, she had thought back then. Conscience prompted Kyria to tell the truth about the role she played, but the opportunity only came up months later, following Khalil and Harper’s rather controversial separation and subsequent reconciliation. When told the truth, however, Harper had only snorted, saying, “Khalil’s actions may have surprised you, but it’s so
mething I’d totally expect from him. I’ve always known he was a devil.”

  “You knew he was a devil,” Kyria had echoed with genuine puzzlement, “and yet you still married him?”

  The words, uttered in complete innocence, had made Harper turn red, but when Kyria stammered out an apology, the queen had only waved her words away with a grimace. “It’s okay. You have a point, and to answer your question, yes, I did still marry him despite knowing what a huge jerk he is.” The queen had then made a face. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this but…sometimes, the things that seem so wrong can actually turn out to be the best thing you can ever ask for. All you need to do is give it a chance and see where it goes.”

  The words unintentionally struck a chord inside of her, and Kyria found herself mulling over them, wondering what it could mean for her. Could those words also be true for that which she still couldn’t bear to think of?

  Even now, there were still nights when that was all she could think of, and making it worse was how her body literally ached at the memories. They were just memories now, and yet her body still heated up like the feel of his hardness against her had been indelible.

  She knew what she was feeling was wrong, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Could this really be what Harper talked of? Could this somehow turn into something right and beautiful? The questions were something Kyria had never really hoped to find the answer to. She was too cowardly, too scared to take a risk on anything…or so she thought until life showed her how desperate straits could truly led to desperate measures.

  And it all started with a girl named Katerina Chariot.

  “I would like to study abroad.” The king and queen were hosting a dinner for the rest of the royal family when Kyria finally mustered the courage to announce her decision, and the reactions to her statement were quite varied.