Zatar didn’t even look at her, just continued his blank stare at Sala while petting her.
“Zatar. I’m talking to you.”
He jolted, looking up at her with guilty eyes. “What?”
“This morning, your guards wouldn’t even let me take a walk around the palace. Reiterating a very basic fact of my stay here: I am a prisoner. This is fucked up, Zatar. You need to let me go.”
His brow furrowed, and he scrambled to his feet, shushing her while he led her away from the lioness. “Quiet! We can’t disturb her.”
“Yeah, well, you’re disturbing me. Do you hear me?”
Zatar frowned down at her, his nearness temporarily making her wobble. His heat sank into her as she gobbled up his features—the soft lines around his eyes betraying the pain in his life, the stubble on his jaw, as black as his hair, the strong nose under thick, dark brows.
“They wouldn’t let you walk around?”
“No. Said I could only go to the zoo or to my room.”
Zatar’s jaw flexed, and she was watching the fascinating twitch at his temple when she realized they were still only inches apart. But hell if she could force herself to move away. He smelled like bamboo and something indefinably manly. Probably a mixture of his own smell and that mat he slept on.
He muttered something in Arabic, pressing at the space between his eyebrows. When she asked what he’d said, he replied, “This has to be Ilia.”
“Who’s that?”
“One of the girls in my father’s harem.” Zatar started pacing the enclosure, and she felt a draft in his absence. Even in the rising heat of the morning. “She loves to cause trouble. Now that you’re here, I suspect she’ll stop at nothing to get my attention. She probably got my father involved.”
Alex deflated a little. Part of her was relieved that Zatar hadn’t ordered her confined to a fraction of the palace, but she didn’t want to investigate why she felt that way. She just needed to get out of here. Sala would be fine now that the medicine had been ordered.
“Well, I have an idea.” Alex crossed her arms. “How about you let me leave?”
* * *
Zatar seared her with a fierce look. Leaving was out of the question. “I told you already. I need you here in case there are complications.” Besides, he liked having her around. She brought something fun and new to his life…a much-needed focal point in a too-long period of despair.
“Listen. It’s evident how much you love Sala. But can you loosen the reins here? I’m a professional. I’ll stay until the job’s done. But at least let me stay at a hotel nearby or something.”
Zatar grunted, casting his sulky gaze back toward Sala. She had a point. But how could he convince her to stay? “I would prefer if you remain near.”
When she started to protest, he raised a hand. “I can provide you with everything you need here. There is simply no need to go to a hotel when Sala’s care is of utmost concern, and you can be mere meters from her. I will speak to the guards and figure out what ridiculous directive they’ve received.”
Alex relaxed slightly. “Okay. But the harem girls have got to go.”
Zatar shook his head. “They are not in my control. Trust me, they would never have been here if I had that sort of decision-making power. The best I can do is transfer you to a different guest room in the main wing.”
Alex shrugged. “Sure. As long as it’s not as crappy as the room I’m in now.”
Zatar stilled, squinting at her. “Are your quarters not to your liking?”
“Oh, come on, Zat. I was kidding. The room is amazing, and you know it.” An easy grin spread across her pretty face, and he laughed. He didn’t love the nickname, but he’d take it. As long as Alex was the one who’d given it to him.
“Fine. Now, shall we have breakfast?” He gestured toward the enclosure gate. They filed out of the cage, and Zatar led the way back to the palace. Alex trailed behind him, unspoken sentiments lingering between them.
Once they made it back to the palace, Zatar flagged the first guard he found. In Arabic, he said, “What happened today with the guest? She said she was prevented from exploring the palace.”
“Strict orders from your father, sir.” The guard bowed slightly. Alex watched the interaction with curious eyes. “He states that no one may wander the grounds without specific destinations in his absence.”
Zatar huffed. The man’s only priority in life was spending the money his country generated. His father came and went between gambling destinations so often it could give a man whiplash. Sometimes he’d come and leave within the same day. And whenever he was gone, he charged his henchmen—or Ilia—to report back about the goings on at the palace. What the harem was doing. What time Zatar woke up. Who he was seeing.
More and more he grew to loathe his father’s practices. Part of him couldn’t wait to take control of the country, whenever it might occur. “Great. And when will he return?”
“I’m uncertain, sir.”
Zatar shook his head, brushing past the guard. Over his shoulder, he shouted, “This guest is not to be restricted from wandering where she pleases! Final word!”
Alex scurried to catch up with him. “What was that about?”
“Just verifying what I knew to be true.” His stomach turned as he led her through an enormous horseshoe arch lined with glittering gemstones. It was his favorite side of the palace. Partly because he and his mother always chose this path on their daily walks. “My father and his rules.”
“Must suck to still live with dad, huh?”
Her comment made him stop in his tracks. When he turned to face her, she looked sheepish. As she should. “You have no idea the customs of our country.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
He huffed as he led her toward the breakfast nook, though it was hardly a nook. A lavishly outfitted dining room with a full wall of windows overlooked the southern garden. Deep ochre tapestries hung on the walls, while side tables boasted enormous vases bursting with lily bouquets.
“Please. Take a seat.” Zatar gestured to one end of the table where place settings awaited them. Alex settled into an open seat, looking around with wide eyes.
“This is gorgeous.”
“One of my favorite areas of the palace.” Zatar settled into the highbacked cherry-wood chair, sipping at the glass of water at his setting. “Now, I’d like to get to know you. What drew you into the veterinary sciences?”
“Oh. Is this the interview now? Seems a bit late.”
“Sure, if you’d like.” His lips twitched, relishing her sarcastic quips. “But it seems important to know the inner workings of the woman saving my Sala’s life.”
She smiled, dragging a finger over the embroidered napkin at the side of her place setting. “Okay, then. I think it all began when I was about nine. I was walking home from school—I lived in Brooklyn then—and I came across an injured dog. He was really bad…I found out later he’d been abused, a pit bull that had been used for fighting. Anyway, my heart broke when I saw him, and I stayed with him until I could get ahold of someone to help me help him.”
Zatar watched her as she spoke, mesmerized by the soft edge in her voice. He could listen to her speak like this forever and still want more. “Did you take him home?”
“No. I couldn’t, because of where we lived. But I got him connected with a shelter, and he was rehabbed. I visited him every day for three weeks until a family adopted him. I liked to think I had a hand in placing him with that family. It was around then I became an unofficial fixture at the shelter. I began to oversee other abandoned pets and learned from the vets on staff about how to care for injured animals. The rest, I guess, is history.”
Her story pleased him more than he’d anticipated. He laughed knowingly. “Well we are more similar than we realized.”
“How so?”
“My animals are rescues as well. I keep them only until they are rehabilitated…if they can be. Paolo, the rhinoceros, won’t be released due to his missi
ng leg. That was a byproduct of a very careless poacher. Paolo is lucky to be alive.”
Alex tilted her head, her blue eyes shining with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But he hoped her walls were coming down. All that resistance they’d started off with…he wanted it to melt away, so he could probe that gooey core of hers, get to know all her sweet quirks and delectable tastes.
Alex could be the most delicious nougat. Tasty in a way he’d never experienced before.
She was unlike anyone he’d ever met before. She didn’t care about impressing him, and she absolutely didn’t care about offending him. In a way, being treated with such disregard was a relief. There was no royal pretense or faked deference. She was Alex, and he was Zatar. Add in the fact that she was a petite and gorgeous blonde, on top of her love for animals…Zatar wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself in check.
He only hoped she would return the interest.
5
After a lush and delicious breakfast, Alex felt once again that her stay in Kattahar could become the work-vacation she’d never planned on. Zatar seemed to be firmly in her corner, despite the initial kidnapping confusion. She’d seen him bark at those guards in Arabic, showcasing a ferocity that, embarrassingly, made her panties damp.
And now they were on their way to her new bedroom, in a better wing and just down the hall from Zatar’s bedroom. An attendant followed dutifully behind, carrying her luggage. She couldn’t help but feel a prickle of anticipation. Maybe this meant late-night knocks, the suggestion implied by the lift of an eyebrow, the heated whispers that happened after midnight.
She tried to tamp down the fantasies, but it was impossible. Even though it felt wrong to think these things about Zatar, she was so intensely curious about what his penis looked like it might plague her for the rest of her life.
The man was gorgeous. There was no way around it.
As they crossed the domed hallway marking the center of the palace, one of the harem girls slunk out of hiding. The girls seemed to have tunnels through the place. Maybe that was another vestige of Zatar’s father’s preferences.
The girl trotted up to Zatar, reaching for his bicep, cutting off the attendant mid-stride and making him stumble. The look on her face was unmistakable; she wanted one thing—Zatar. He snatched his hand away, sending sharp words in Arabic her way. The girl’s face contorted into a scowl.
“And why do you prefer her?” The girl jutted her perfectly manicured fingers toward Alex as they walked away. “Look at her hair, her flat chest. So ugly.”
Before Alex could even be offended, Zatar whipped around and stormed back toward the harem girl. He scolded her so harshly that Alex didn’t need to know Arabic to know it was bad. The attendant watched, eyes slightly widened. The girl ran off afterward, and Zatar joined her again, his face troubled.
“I’m sorry for that.” He led the way to a side hallway, much wider and more opulent than where she’d been staying previously. Latticed metal lanterns hung from the walls. Spiral metal stands dotted the hall, from which thick towers of unlit candles rose, the wax crystallized in its melted descent. “They are so catty, and I have so little patience for them.”
“Who was that Zatar?”
“Her name is Malika. Another one who has an interest in me.”
Alex could understand it partially, at least. It was hard for any sighted woman with a sex drive to not have an interest in Zatar. As the prince to an entire country, he probably had a fan following the size of a boy band’s. And if he had so much access to easy sex with women who adored him…
She swallowed back a sick knot. Why did she care? She didn’t. He was just a pretty boy with a soft spot for lions, like her. A kindred spirit of sorts. One with incredibly captivating eyes.
“Here’s your room.” His husky voice brought her back to reality at the same moment she caught a whiff of his scent. Damn this man. Maybe if she stayed here long enough, she’d turn into one of those raving harem girls as well, desperate for any brush with the gorgeous prince.
He swept open an arched wooden door inlaid with golden accents. She gasped when the room came into view. Dark and light indigo tiles stretched across the room, topped off with a Persian rug that would probably fill her entire apartment in Paris. The wall behind a four-poster king-size bed showcased a mosaic made of probably every precious stone in the galaxy. Water burbled from somewhere; she suddenly realized this room might very well have its own waterfall.
“Um,” she started, but couldn’t find the words to follow.
“We can set your things here.” Zatar gestured to a living area hidden behind an elegantly curved wall. Plush cushions dotted the floor around a thick rug. A hookah sat off to the side of the sitting area, waiting for its next guests. The attendant set her things down next to a chaise longue and then excused himself. Alex nodded, taking it all in.
“Looks pretty great.” Like that even covered it. Now her forced vacation was really beginning.
“I’m glad you approve. My room is two doors down.” He gestured, but all she could think about was that this was the third time he’d mentioned that. Maybe he was eager for her to come see his room. Maybe she was eager to go see his room. “Lunch will be delivered directly to your room. And remember, please knock if you need anything.” He paused, his hazel eyes sparking small fires through her body. “Anything at all.”
He excused himself, leaving her in a pleasant silence in the bedroom. She wandered around the expansive suite in a daze, each new detail and adornment making her jaw drop further. People actually live like this? And to think this was his guest room. Her guest room in Paris consisted of a pull-out couch in her dining room, which butted up against the wall of the kitchen. Guests often left her apartment smelling like onions. But here…
She fingered the heavy turquoise curtains, rubbing a golden tassel between her fingers. She hadn’t imagined the palace might have different levels of luxury when it came to housing guests. No way she’d walk out of this room smelling like last night’s dinner.
Alex peeked into the bathroom and gasped. Jacuzzi tub. Glass-paneled shower. Even a tiny infinity pool that butted up against a window looking into a floor to ceiling aquarium. She went up to the glass pane, tilting her head to look around the cerulean waters. A bright orange fish darted past.
If this was the stuff of Zatar’s childhood, she could only imagine how that might have colored his upbringing. Even so, under his overbearing princely façade, she’d glimpsed a kind heart. Despite all the glamor and wealth, something about him felt…familiar.
She hummed as she washed her hands with an exotic pebbled soap. It smelled like heaven. She readjusted her ponytail under the bright globe lamps lining the mirror, feeling a little plain in such luxury.
But oh well. Zatar either liked what he saw, or he didn’t. Her eyes widened in the mirror. But she didn’t actually care what he thought, so it didn’t matter. Even though she was desperate to see what he looked like under that flowing white robe, it was simply biology. The unavoidable hormones of their species’ drive to mate. She cleared her throat, tugging her shirt down, unbuttoning one extra button on the polo shirt.
And god, she wanted to mate with Zatar.
With one last look in the mirror, she turned and strutted out of the bathroom. Maybe a visit to his room was in order after lunch. Just to see what it looked like.
Just to see what might come of it.
* * *
Zatar puttered around in his bedroom without any real purpose. Lunch had come and gone, and still he lingered. He wanted to remain near Alex, just in case she should come calling for him. But part of him sensed her independence and knew that she had more than enough to keep her entertained.
Still, it seemed wrong to return to her room and ask to…hang out. Somehow that casualness existed beyond the scope of their strange circumstances. She was part employee, part guest, part intoxicating temptation that grew stronger by the second.
Zatar swi
ped through his phone choosing a downtempo mix. The low tones thrummed through the surround-sound speakers hidden cleverly throughout the room. Just as he readied a spot for himself among the throw pillows, a knock sounded. He squinted at the door. Unless maybe he was imagining the noise in the chorus of the music.
Knock knock.
He hurried to the door. It groaned heavily as he swung it open. Alex stared back at him, looking uncertain.
Relief flooded him. “Alex.” He paused as he glimpsed motion over her shoulder. In the distance, he spotted a flowing gold robe. His voice dried up as he watched the person come nearer down the hallway, head bowed. His father. The king. He inhaled sharply, grabbing Alex’s wrist and yanking her inside.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” She searched his face for an answer, but he shoved the door shut, heart racing. His father couldn’t know Alex was here or that she was in any way connected to the zoo. His father was around so infrequently, hiding her wouldn’t be an issue. But he hadn’t expected him so soon.
“You must be quiet. My father is here unexpectedly.” He guided her toward the back of his room, where a walk-in closet curled around the depths of the palace. “Just stay here for me, please. Don’t make a sound. I don’t want him knowing you’re here.”
“But—” she began, but clamped her mouth shut when a forceful knock sounded on the door.
“I’ll explain soon,” he whispered and then darted off to answer the door. He pulled at the heavy door just as one more knock thudded. On the other side, his heavyset and recently bearded father stared disapprovingly.
“About time.” King Patar brushed past Zatar and strolled into his room, his golden robe kicking up behind him. “You have a greater lag time than the servants.”
Zatar tamped down his frustration. His father had always been impatient and demanding, but since his mother’s death it seemed his father now believed that he could walk over everyone who stood in his way.
“You’re back.” Zatar didn’t bother trying to inject friendliness into his tone. “I thought you’d be in Monaco for a while.”
The Sheikh’s Royal Seduction: Desert Sheikhs Book One Page 4