The Sheikh’s Royal Seduction: Desert Sheikhs Book One

by North, Leslie

  Zatar’s perfectly tanned jaw flexed. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I think it’s the ladies outside.”

  “Oh. Your harem?”

  His eyes flashed, and he leveled her with a look that felt like a warning. “It’s not my harem. But they are jealous I’m dining with you.”

  Alex blinked a few times. Had she been transported into an alternate universe? Next thing she knew a magical portal would open up and they’d saunter through to Medieval England. “Okay, so that actually is a harem. I was kidding. I thought maybe you just had a lot of sisters.”

  Zatar snorted, and embarrassment flashed across his face. She liked these glimpses of the prince. Maybe in another life they would have been friends, hanging out in his lush mansion, listening to music, reciting animals’ scientific names from memory.

  “I have only one sister. And she’d never agree to be in a harem.”

  “Do women usually have a choice?”

  Zatar looked at her like she was crazy. “Of course. They choose this lifestyle. My father rewards them generously.” He must have caught sight of her confusion, because he added, “My father has them stay here. It’s a…recent development.”

  “Oh? So you didn’t grow up seeing women as playthings to be bought?” Alex sliced off a piece of tender lamb. She was eating slowly to savor every last bite. This might be the last time she ever ate such amazing food. Despite tending to the exotic animals of the rich, royal, and famous, she didn’t usually get invited to her clients’ dinner tables.

  Zatar’s jaw worked back and forth, his gaze sizzling on her. “You certainly are forward.”

  “Hm. Is that a problem?” Being held hostage had apparently annihilated her filter. Not that she had much of one to begin with, but she never would have spoken to Zatar this way if he hadn’t kept her here against her will. “Better than being backward.” She hoped he could hear what she added in her head: Because, let’s be real Prince Zatty, this whole place is a little backwards.

  A comfortable silence settled between them, each one scraping away at their plates. Finally Zatar spoke.

  “So tell me, Ms. Alex. Why do you call yourself by a man’s name?”

  A laugh rocketed out of her. She covered her mouth before any food could escape. “Sorry. That’s funny.” She swallowed, smoothing down the napkin over her lap before continuing. “It’s not a man’s name. It’s unisex, really. But my first name is Alexis.”

  “You’re the first Alexis I’ve ever met.” His shrouded gaze traveled over her, sparking goosebumps.

  “You’re the first Zatar I’ve ever met.” She fought the urge to wiggle her fingers like summoning a genie. “And probably the last.”

  “I hope you’re the last.” His plain words made her blush. But why? Something felt naked and exposed in his tone.

  “Um, okay. Why?”

  “Because every other Alexis will come up lacking.” He winked. Her insides seized. Holy shit. He was flirting.

  “Oh, come on. You’re just trying to butter me up, now that I’m your prisoner.”

  Zatar shook his head, sipping at his water glass. “Nonsense. Now tell me where you’re from.”

  She stared at her plate as she cut off another chunk of chop. Was it so wrong to like the attention, even if the circumstances were a little strange? In the right light, she could almost envision this as a date. Leave it to the sex-starved workaholic veterinarian to turn to Stockholm Syndrome as a dating service.

  “America.”

  “I know this. But where?”

  She cracked a grin. “New York.”

  “Ah. That explains your attitude.”

  Her jaw dropped. Again. “No, your behavior explains my attitude. Any regular red-blooded American would sass back when a sheikh tried to imprison them.” She paused, swirling a stalk of asparagus in a dip she couldn’t identify. “Unless they’re gunning for the harem.”

  “Do you live in the region now?”

  “No. I live in Paris.” The asparagus stalk crunched pleasantly when she bit into it.

  Zatar watched her. In the orangey light of the room, he had a fuzzy finish, as if she’d already had a bottle of wine. It made him look even more exotic and a little too tempting. God, she wondered what it would be like to run her hands through that thick hair she glimpsed in Sala’s cage.

  She pushed away the lusty thoughts. She couldn’t think of Zatar that way, no matter how hot he was. It wasn’t just the kidnapping thing either. No, she knew far too well the habits and expectations of these rich men. Falling into bed with even one of them could entirely destroy her hard-won reputation. Royalty on the job was a strict no-fly zone.

  But Zatar was a guy she wanted to hover around. Just to see.

  “Paris?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “A gorgeous city.”

  “Yes. I fell in love the first time I went there and vowed to move there someday. Once my veterinarian career took off with independent clients, I saw the chance to scale up to global clientele.” But more than that, she’d moved there wanting to jump-start the rest of her life. Expand her career. Find her one-and-only. Settle in and make Paris her home. And now I have an apartment that gets used more often by Air BnB travelers than myself, and no lover to share the City of Love with. “Plus, most of the owners of big cats live outside the US. Not sure why. But it just made sense.”

  Zatar was quiet for so long she looked up at him guiltily, fearing that she’d overshared. Why was she giving him so much information anyway? Finally, he spoke. “Why big cats?”

  She swallowed hard. “Where to begin?”

  He cracked a knowing smile, one that made her stomach pitch downward. If they’d been anywhere else, and probably anyone else, she might have developed a huge crush by now. Thankfully, that wasn’t happening. It couldn’t.

  “There’s something so magical about them. Even though they’re ferocious and can kill us in…seconds, I love their playful nature. They teach me so much, every day on the job.”

  Zatar nodded, fingering the stem of his water goblet. His eyes swirled with something unknown as he said, “And I find that I like looking at magnificent creatures, as well.”

  Alex just stared in response. Is this a double entendre? Maybe she could be a magnificent creature for him. She jerked her gaze back down to her plate, scooping up the rest of the food in one bite. She chewed noisily, as if it might jostle the sexy thoughts out of her head. She hadn’t even had wine. Unless the very air of this place was an aphrodisiac. These royals sometimes had too much money at their disposal. There was no telling.

  What she hated most about his simple comment was how flattered she felt. The man was Vogue underwear-ad gorgeous, and she often misapplied lipstick on the rare occasion she dressed up for a night out. Maybe he saw a natural beauty she’d always tried to not care about.

  She slammed the rest of her water, the goblet crashing against the table. At the end of the day, though, it didn’t matter.

  Because he was a royal asshole who’d kidnapped her.

  She’d do well to remember that.

  * * *

  Once dinner had wrapped up and they’d shared a glass of wine, Alex seemed much more relaxed. At certain points in their conversation, Zatar forgot entirely what had brought her here, seeing her instead as a new friend. An entirely too attractive new friend who had lips he was desperate to taste.

  They were pink. And impossibly glossy, all the time. Like a tiny, perfect rosebud. He wondered if she’d caught him staring yet. It was so difficult to look away.

  Once the dishes were cleared, Zatar lowered his head, sending her his most sincere look. “Shall we walk the gardens now?”

  Alex hesitated. “I think I want to just go to bed.” Indecision shone in her face, but he wondered if it was for the reason he suspected. Already he felt a low-grade sexual tension smoldering between them, threatening to kick up into open flame.

  “Very well.” He forced away the images of where he hoped the evening might go. A slow walk under th
e starry sky. A stolen kiss behind a fountain. Learning the curves of her body, hidden under those clothes. “Sleep. Breakfast will arrive at eight.”

  She nodded, scratching at her arm, looking across the room distractedly. “Okay. Sounds great.”

  Zatar let himself out of her room before he could convince himself to add anything else. In the quiet halls of the palace, clarity returned to him. His priorities clicked back into place. He could forget about the perfect pink rosebud lips.

  He headed for Sala’s enclosure and found Timak doing his late-night rounds in the zoo.

  “How is she?” Zatar paused at the gates, squinting to find Sala’s dark form in the light from the weak lamps illuminating the path.

  “Much the same.” Timak sighed, rubbing the back of his hand across his forehead. “I researched the medicine the doctor prescribed. The closest supply is in Turkey.”

  Hope sparked inside him. “Easy. A two-hour trip.”

  “Yes, but your father had other plans for the helicopter. He has taken it to Monaco.”

  Zatar clenched his fists around the cool steel bars. Business in Monaco could only mean one thing. The man was about to go on a gambling bender. “I wish he would spend more time taking care of running the county and less time chasing women and gambling. It’s a disgrace to my mother’s memory.”

  Timak sighed softly, his expression obscured in the low lighting. These sorts of trips weren’t uncommon in the royal household. On the one hand, Zatar could sympathize. He’d been there, turned to the same outlets. But his phase had been short. The king now had a year of this behavior under his belt, with no sign of it letting up. Nobody could tell him otherwise, either. Any mention of his lavish spending or the excessive women populating the house resulted in a fearsome outburst.

  “I’m not sure what we can do from here,” Timak said.

  Zatar sniffed, wracking his brain for the next best option for getting the medicine. “I’ll call Alair.” He fumbled with his phone, pulling up the name of his longtime friend and business associate, Alair Sabar. The man was a world-renowned importer and exporter and had a fleet of private jets at his disposal. Borrowing one for less than half a day shouldn’t be an issue. But anxiety gnawed at him as the phone rang. When Alair picked up, he sounded amused.

  “A call so late. You must be in trouble again.”

  Zatar laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The last time he’d called around midnight, he’d been in Venice and so drunk he couldn’t find the penthouse they’d rented with a group of friends for a week. “I am. But not the sort you think I am.”

  “Go on. It’s always a pleasure to be of service. You tend to find interesting predicaments.”

  Zatar explained the situation with Sala and his father’s helicopter. Alair gave a low “hmmm” once Zatar had finished.

  “Well, my dear friend. You already know what my answer will be.”

  Zatar pinched his eyes shut, sending thanks to the heavens. “You are too good.”

  “You may have any jet of your choosing for twenty-four hours. But in return for the last-minute favor…you must grant me one favor of my choosing in the future.”

  Zatar rolled his neck in a slow circle. Being indebted to someone, anyone, was not his preferred style of negotiation. But desperate times called for the most desperate measures. Of course he’d do whatever it took to get this medicine tomorrow. He just hoped Alair wouldn’t ask for something impossible. “Of course. It’s a deal.”

  Alair hummed happily. “Excellent. I’ll have the jet to your palace by, let’s say, eight a.m. Yours for a full day. I’ll make sure it’s appropriately stocked.”

  Zatar smiled in spite of the deal he’d just made. “Appropriately stocked” could mean any manner of things where Alair was concerned. “Thank you, friend. This means the world to me.”

  When he hung up, Zatar nodded at Timak. “Tomorrow. The medicine will be ours.”

  He pocketed the phone, feeling only slightly relieved. As he approached Sala, his heart clenched. He couldn’t lose this lioness. And he wouldn’t feel better until the medicine had been administered and Sala was back to her old self.

  He eased onto the bamboo mat beside her, careful not to wake her. Sala’s round belly rose and fell softly as she slept.

  Zatar draped an arm over her side and snuggled up. As he settled in, Alex’s face floated in the back of his mind, and he drifted off, lulled to sleep by imagining her pretty pink lips and just how soft they’d feel pressed to his.

  4

  Alex awoke early the next day when a shaft of sunlight broke through the diaphanous curtains and landed squarely across her face. She stretched and yawned, turning over and flopping her arms on the bed as she slowly came to. Birds twittered outside. A gentle breeze ruffled the curtains. Damn, this was a nice place to wake up in.

  She sat up, dragging her fingers over the silky bedspread. Even though she couldn’t guess what the day had in store for her, she could at least enjoy the small pleasures. She tugged at the tassel on a throw pillow. Tassels made everything better. Even hostage situations.

  She pushed out of bed and dressed in yesterday’s clothes. On her way to the bathroom she paused, spotting her bags near the door, her vet’s kit and the emergency bag she carried with her on every call, containing a change of clothes, toiletries and the like. Someone must have dropped them off. She shivered a little at the thought that it might have happened while she slept. But maybe they’d been delivered while she was out trying to get help from the harem and it just took her this long to notice.

  Once she’d peed and washed her face, she thought it might be a good time for a morning stroll. She’d poke around the palace a little bit and then swing by Sala’s enclosure to check on her before coming back to check out what breakfast looked like in this place. It was practically vacation.

  She hummed to herself as she let herself out of the bedroom, her feet whispering over the cool marble floor. She took a right out of her room instead of turning left to return to the gardens. A plush Persian rug stretched down the center of the hallway. She followed it until a horseshoe-arched doorway led outside, where the bright morning sun gleamed. She smiled into the heat, which still hadn’t reached its oppressive midday status, and closed her eyes to soak it in.

  “Stop.”

  Her eyes snapped open. An armed guard stood in front of her and watched her with an expressionless face just this side of a serial killer. She reared back, surprise streaking through her.

  “Fuck. Hi. I didn’t see you.”

  “Back that way.” The guard pointed over her shoulder, back the way she’d come.

  She arched a brow. “Um, sorry?”

  “Back inside. You may only go to the zoo and to your quarters.”

  The air went out of her. She repeated his words in her head to make sure she’d understood correctly. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

  When the guard didn’t move, she scoffed and turned on her heel. So much for the pseudo vacation. This was officially ridiculous. Her only sanctioned path through the palace was between her closed room and the zoo? She really was a hostage veterinarian.

  Any goodwill she’d accumulated for Zatar overnight dissipated in a puff as she stalked back down the wide hall. Instead of slamming the door to her bedroom, which seemed like it might help release some of her anger, she continued outside to the gardens. Might as well go to the zoo to exercise the scant amount of freedom she was allotted under Prince Zatar’s iron rule.

  She huffed, clenching her fists as she worked over the outrage. Limiting her freedom within the palace was hardly necessary. Like she could go anywhere anyway. He controlled her only exit plan: the helicopter she’d come in. Unless he was worried she might steal a car and make a run for it. She smiled briefly. Maybe she came across as a little unhinged. A veterinarian in distress. She could make headlines—it might even be good for business.

  By the time she reached the zoo, she had a whole hare-brained plan cooked up invol
ving one of the rhinos she’d seen in the zoo and convincing Timak to break free from the psychological shackles of Zatar. Saving him seemed like the right thing to do. She slowed when she reached the iron gate of Sala’s enclosure, squinting to see into the darkened recesses.

  The iron clanged as she unlatched the door. Something stirred in the background. She paused.

  It was Zatar. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Alex approached slowly. This was the second time she’d caught him sleeping with his beloved lioness. He cleared his throat, straightening his robes as she came nearer. His dark hair was mussed and disheveled. He groped around for his keffiyah just as she paused at the periphery of the overhang.

  “Morning.” There was something sweet about catching him waking up. It was that glimpse of intimacy again, in surroundings that were so foreign and palatial. In these moments she didn’t feel so different from this prince after all.

  “Hello. Good morning.” He grabbed the keffiyah, arranging it on the top of his head. He glanced up at her, his eyes still bleary from sleep.

  “Did you spend the night out here?”

  “Yes.” He propped an elbow up on one knee, looking down at Sala. “I’m afraid to leave her.”

  Her annoyance from earlier disappeared in the wake of his concern. “If you get that medicine, she’ll be fine.”

  “We’re working on it.” Zatar ran a hand over the shiny fur of her flank. “A plane will be here soon to take Timak to Turkey. He’ll pick up the medicine there and return before dinner.”

  Alex nodded, crossing her arms. “Great. Any change in her behavior?”

  “None. Still listless and worrisome.”

  Alex nodded, scanning the enclosure. The only noise around them was the distant twittering of birds and Sala’s labored breathing.

  “Well, sounds like you have everything under control. Which reminds me…I should really be on my way.” She narrowed her eyes at Zatar.