Bound to the Warrior King

by Maisey Yates

  A happiness that scared him more than any pain he had yet endured.

  It brought back memories. Memories long ago blocked out. His mother smiling. His father placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. Those words he could never hear.

  Right then, he wanted to run. Right then, he wanted to get away. She made him remember. And that was even deadlier than forgetting.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I LOVE YOU.”

  Olivia didn’t mean to speak the words, but the moment they left her mouth she surrendered. Not just to the feeling, which she had come to terms with yesterday, but to the fact that she had just confessed it. She had said them many times over the course of her life. Her parents, to her sister. To her first husband. But never in all of her life had the response mattered so much. Never in her life had the words cost so much to speak.

  Always, they had been the right things to say. A gift with nothing behind them.

  But these three words spoken to him were like three strips taken from her hide. Essential parts of herself given to him because they were necessary. Because he was necessary. It made her vulnerable, she knew. It exposed every bit of the neediness she had been afraid of exposing all of her life. But she didn’t care, not now. Because finally, finally she wanted something that was worth the cost. She wanted someone who was worth the cost.

  Tarek was the strongest man she had ever known. If he could face down the pain, the fear that he had endured, the loss, then certainly she could give something of herself to him. Had anyone ever given themselves to him? She would.

  She realized now that she had stopped giving of herself a long time ago. She was insulated, surrounded by people who kept walls erected between them. As she did, too. But she couldn’t do that here. She couldn’t do that now. Not with him.

  She couldn’t protect herself and love him. She would have to risk. Have to step out.

  She had sworn she would never break. But for him she would have to. For him, she would break open and pour herself out. Show him her heart, her neediness, her everything.

  For this man who saw her. This man who looked at her as if she was singular. Precious.

  For this man, she would.

  She felt Tarek stiffened beneath her hands. “Olivia, no.”

  “Yes.” She knew already this would end badly.

  That it would hurt like hell. But she was committed to it. She was so tired. She wanted to grab a sledgehammer and physically break something down to symbolize what she wanted to happen inside her. She didn’t want protection or comfort. She didn’t want safety. She wanted raw heat, passion. But the only way to get that was to walk through the fire. Better to burn alive than freeze to death.

  “I cannot love,” he said, his voice like stone.

  “You can. There are a lot of things you didn’t think you could do. I know you didn’t think that you could make love to me...”

  “Is that it? You are taking that as a sign of love? A sign of affection?” He moved away from her, standing by the edge of the bed, pacing like a caged animal. “I want nothing to do with love,” he said, his tone fierce. “And even if I did, I lack the capacity.”

  She shook her head, feeling numb. “No. I don’t believe that.”

  “Because of this?” He indicated the bed. “Any beast can rut. That does not indicate the ability to love.”

  “So now you’re going to reduce this? Now you’re going to make it nothing more than animals mating?”

  “This was all about producing in heir, was it not?”

  “Was it?” she asked, pain making her lash out. “If so, I hate to be the one to tell you, using your mouth on me, no matter how much fun it might be, will never produce an heir.” Talking about a baby like this, a child, their child was suddenly a new, sharp pain. A sliver shoved beneath her skin, adding to the rest.

  An heir was no longer a detached title, a strange, hazy goal. But a baby. Part her. Part Tarek.

  A dream she hadn’t realized she’d wanted so badly. One that was sifting through her fingers like sand with each angry word, each passing second.

  His dark brows locked together. “I will not deny I derived enjoyment from it. But that is not an indication of finer feelings.”

  “What are you afraid of? What are you hiding from?”

  “Hiding seems to be your game, my queen, not mine.”

  His words hit her with the full force of a slap. Because they were true. She was an expert at hiding. She preferred to hide among people, smiling, feigning connection, because it was a wonderful way to disguise the yawning ache of loneliness inside her. To pretend it was being satisfied. But she had admitted it to herself, so his words held no power. “Says the man who spent years hunkered down in this empty shell of a building?”

  “I cannot keep my eyes on you and on my country. I have to remain focused.”

  “Life isn’t that simple, Tarek.”

  “It got me this far.”

  “But there’s more. Don’t you want more? I want more. I’m tired of just getting by. I was protecting myself for so long. Accepting the blandest drop of human emotion because it meant I wouldn’t have to give anything back. It meant I wouldn’t have to risk anything. But when you don’t risk anything, you get no reward. I ran all the way to Tahar from Alansund to avoid being alone. To avoid having to deal with the emptiness inside myself. I was willing to marry a stranger in order to keep from dealing with the fact that I just... My parents could never show that they loved me as much as they love Emily. And rather than admitting I needed it, that I missed anything I just kind of closed in on myself, made myself strong. I asked for more and found they were unwilling to give it, and so I stopped. I was married to a man I could barely go beyond small talk with because I would rather have a shell than lose the pretense we had. But it’s not enough. I’m not going to let you get away with that. I’m going to ask for more than you think you can give. I’m going to demand it. If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t care if you ever said that you loved me. If this were me two years ago, I would never demand it. But this isn’t me two years ago. This is me now. This is me, being the woman that you helped me discover I am. So now you have to deal with it.”

  “And I am the stranger that you chose to marry. I am not now a man you can fashion into the image you would like to see. I am all you see before you. I am what I was made to be.”

  She got out of the bed, took a step toward him, bracketed his face with her hands. “Be more. You can be more than a goal. More than an ideal. Just because your brother was twisted, and evil, and completely beholden to all of his vices doesn’t mean you have to be.”

  “You say that, and yet you know nothing of what I have seen. He killed my parents. Our parents. Our blood. He stopped just short of killing me because he thought I might be of some use, or perhaps because in his twisted mind he had power so he didn’t need to destroy me completely. I will never know for certain. He said that he loved me. As he tortured me, he said that he loved me. That is love to me. Love is nothing more than pain.”

  She closed the distance between them, kissing him hard, not pausing to think her actions through. When she parted from him, they were both breathing hard. “Is that pain? Do you think I would cause you pain?”

  “I think between the two of us we would cause nothing more than pain if we went down that road.”

  “It’s too late. I’m down that road.”

  “Then, understand I will never meet you there.”

  His words sent a stab of pain straight through her, the kind of pain she had spent her life avoiding. She had laid herself bare to him, opened herself up, and he had rejected her. It was her deepest fear, and she was standing here in a hot, empty room, living it.

  “I understand.”

  She understood, but she could not accept it. Not now. Not any longer.

>   “We must return now,” he said. “We have a nation to rule. We can afford no more distractions.”

  Olivia knew there was much she could no longer afford. But it had nothing to do with the kingdom.

  She had found the strength to love him. Now she would have to find the strength to walk away.

  * * *

  When they walked back into the palace, the antechamber was empty. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor. Olivia had been silent on the drive back from the desert, but that didn’t surprise Tarek. She was upset, but she would be fine. She had not come to Tahar for love. Had not married him for love. And so he had confidence she would survive the disappointment. And he would regroup. Rebuild. They would continue on as they had started. In that he was confident.

  He would have to guard himself more closely, but he was able.

  They didn’t need love. She was wrong about love. Love was pain.

  Love was only pain.

  He began to walk deeper into the palace and sensed that Olivia was not walking with him.

  He paused, and turned. “Olivia?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She shook her head. “I have to leave. I have to leave here. I have to leave you.”

  “Don’t be foolish. You are not leaving me. You are my wife.” He had never expected to have a wife. And now, he could not imagine his life without one. Without her. Pain wrenched through him, and he pushed it back.

  “I know. And I married you before the entire country. I made vows to you. Promises. But I didn’t know then what I wanted. I thought I could have a marriage like the one I’d had before. Where I asked for nothing, where I expected nothing in return. But that only works when I’m not really in love. You... I love you. And I need you to love me back. I deserve to be loved back.”

  A red haze fell over his vision, any control he’d laid claim to over the past fifteen years deserting him in that moment. He strode toward her, his heart thundering hard. “You think you can leave me? Have you forgotten who I am? Have you forgotten what I am?”

  “It’s you who have forgotten who you are. You’ve forgotten everything but the poison your brother put in your head. And I will not spend my life on the other side of your walls. I want more than that. I deserve more than that. You deserve more than that. Malik nearly destroyed Tahar with his indifference. And he tried to destroy you, too. But you would heal this country and never afford yourself the same. If they deserve it, your people, if this dust and rock you profess to love deserves it, why don’t you deserve it?” She was shouting now, screaming at him. All of her pristine, contained manner gone. “Fight for this. Fight for us. Please.”

  “Wanting more leads to incredible acts of selfishness. As you are demonstrating right now.”

  “I’m not a human sacrifice to be thrown on an altar. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is selfish. Maybe I’m not being giving enough. But I would give you everything if you would let me. You just won’t let me. And I can’t...I can’t pretend that I don’t want more. I won’t sit here and let you kill me by inches with your indifference.”

  “If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s indifferent. I want you. Isn’t that enough?”

  “It isn’t enough. Because you don’t want me. You want a body. You want a woman to stand at your side and be your queen. I want to be loved. I’ve spent too many years trying to fill that void with other things, trying to shut out the ache so I wouldn’t be lonely. So I wouldn’t hurt. But I would rather be lonely than lie to myself. I would rather hurt than hide.”

  He couldn’t breathe. Felt as if he was being held down, subjected to a blade beneath his skin again. “Then, go,” he said.

  She blinked those blue eyes that hours ago he’d been thinking of as his horizon line. “What?”

  “Get out. If you don’t want this, then get out. There are plenty of women willing to marry a sheikh. I don’t need to have an heir with you. If this won’t make you happy, then leave. I will not hold you prisoner. You said you would never send me away. I made no such promises to you.”

  “And if there’s a baby already?” she asked, tilting her chin up in the air.

  “Then, we will handle it.” His stomach tightened and he fought to maintain a streamlined hold on his emotions. Anger was all he needed to feel now. There was no room for doubt, no room for hurt. “Now, get out.”

  “Tarek—”

  “Get out!” he roared at her, not caring that she was undeserving of his rage. Not caring that he had brought this on himself. He was the sheikh. For the first time he would own that. For the first time he would take true command.

  She didn’t shrink; she didn’t pale. Rather, she nodded her head slowly, as regal as the first moment he had seen her. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

  Blinding, burning pain flashed through his chest, and he dropped to his knees.

  Olivia was gone. Olivia was leaving him. The woman he’d never imagined he’d want. The woman who had become everything. She was gone.

  And there was only pain.

  * * *

  Two hours later the car that was carrying his wife departed the palace. Tarek went to his room, locking the door behind him, pacing the length of the space, his heart pounding so hard he was sick with it.

  He would not keep her here. He could not.

  He also knew he could not hold her while clinging to his control. While keeping an eye on his goal. His people needed a leader who would cast aside all earthly pleasures, who would give of himself wholly. He could not do that while clinging to Olivia.

  He stripped his clothes off, pacing awhile longer before lying down in his bed. He would sleep alone tonight. As he had every night. And as he would every night after.

  He craved Olivia. There was no denying it. He was as weak as any man when it came to desire for a woman’s body. A sobering realization. At least she was gone now and he would no longer be a slave to his needs.

  He finally drifted into sleep, but it was restless, filled with nightmares, ghosts of the past. Searing pain. Visions of the torture that had gone on within the palace walls. Visions that had been absent ever since Olivia had become a true part of his life.

  He sat up, his torso drenched with sweat, shaking.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, walked over to the window and looked out at the inky black desert. The moon was high in the sky, casting a pale glow on the sand. Such a desolate place, the desert. His kingdom.

  It had seemed less so when she was here.

  When she was here it was more like the years before Malik. More like when his parents had been alive.

  Pain blasted him again, shooting through his skull. He didn’t allow himself to have these memories, and his body accommodated him. Because it hurt too much. Because he loved her too much.

  He thought of Malik, inflicting wound after wound on his body. All while promising love.

  And he thought of Olivia, professing to love him. They were not the same things. How could they ever be? Because Olivia was nothing like Malik. His mother and father had been nothing like Malik.

  His parents. He had so few memories of them. But they were there. Those twisted, broken shards of his humanity would never have existed in the first place if not for them. Back then, he had been whole. He had been loved. Not in the way that Malik had claimed to love him. It had been different.

  He gritted his teeth against the pain of the memory. It was like trying to break through a brick wall. One he had erected. There was a very clear division in his mind. Life before the death of his parents, and life after. He did not allow his mind across the wall into life before because he did not like to remember. Because it split his focus from his purpose. Because it caused him nothing but pain.

  Searing, unending pain. Much lik
e the torture he had endured at his brother’s hands.

  Pain. At least in the desert there had been no pain. At least when he cut out every desire, every longing, every emotion, everything with a singular purpose before him, there could be no pain. And that was why it was so important.

  Why it was so important to keep himself from wanting. Why it was so important to keep everything but that one goal stripped away. He had honed his existence into one of survival. Survival was simple. It cared not for comfort, for enjoyment. It cared only about breathing. Breathing was easy.

  It was the rest that was difficult.

  But he was not Malik. He had determined he would rule independent of his own desires. Was that not enough?

  Unbidden, he saw a familiar face in his mind. Not Olivia’s this time. His father’s. And he heard his voice, soft, distant, from the unused recesses of his memory. The words. Those words he had longed to hear for so very long, muffled by pain and grief, now made clear.

  I love this country. More than my own life. Without love, how can a ruler temper his power? What will he use as his guide?

  A flood of memories filled him then, washing over the wall that remained, reducing it to rubble. Of everything that had happened before. Of who he had been before the torture. Before his exile. And he wished, more than anything, that he had Olivia here to hold him as the images overtook him. Brought him to his knees. Mingling with the grief he already felt over her loss.

  He realized with sudden, stark clarity that whatever Malik had felt for anything, for anyone, it hadn’t been love. He was the evidence of the absence of love and all the destruction it could cause.

  What did it matter if he swore protection, if he professed loyalty in his speeches, if he gave of himself, if he gave his possessions, but there was nothing behind it? If none of those actions possessed love, what did they mean? And what could they become?

  He saw now that love was not pain. Love was the very thing that kept a man rooted. No matter how fiercely he focused on his goal, if he felt nothing in his heart, there was no compass to guide him. No true north that would ensure his direction was true.