SEDUCING HIS PRINCESS

by Olivia Gates

  “Was that so hard?”

  Huh? What?

  “Giving me that first voluntary touch.” He rubbed his jaw again, this time moving it from side to side, as if making sure everything was still slotted in place and functioning. “Not bad at all, as first voluntary touches go.”

  Wishing she could generate heat vision, she glared at him. “If only you’d told me you expected a first voluntary punch, I would have obliged you much faster.”

  His grin turned into a wince and back to a grin. “Good thing I’m sporting a beard. I would have had a hard time explaining the bruise. That was a perfect jab. Or should I say, sucker punch?”

  “Please. You saw it coming a light-year away. You could have blocked it if you wanted.”

  “If you think I saw anything but you glowing like a golden goddess in that torture device of a dress, you give me too much credit. You reduce me to my basic beast and the most simpleminded and oblivious of men.”

  Why was he doing this? Reengaging his seduction program? Was there something he still needed from her? Was he making sure she was hot enough for the required malleability?

  “At least believe that if I’d seen this punch coming, I would have ducked so you wouldn’t hurt your hand.”

  “Oh, sure. You care about the hand that just socked you.”

  “I care about nothing but your every bone and pore and inch. All I want is to show you how much...I care. But wait...”

  He suddenly turned and strode away, disappeared into the kitchenette. In moments, he came back with a bag of ice. Stopping before her, he took her hand, ran gentle fingers over the knuckles that throbbed with a dull ache, his eyebrows knotting as he examined the forming bruise. Placing the ice on her knuckles, he gritted his teeth, as if her gasp hurt him.

  “Next time, use a heavy, blunt object.”

  A shudder rattled through her, at his dark mutter more than at the icy numbing. She’d known she’d pay the price for her recklessness in pain and limited mobility for a while. But she’d thought it a small price for venting her frustration in the one way she hadn’t tried yet. Physically.

  She only felt worse now—stupid on top of out-of-control and futile. And his solicitude had turned the tables on her. She’d known he wouldn’t retaliate, but she’d hoped it would surprise him into baring his fangs, or at least dropping his mask. He’d done that once, that night six years ago.

  She’d always conjured those moments when he’d snarled at her like a wounded beast, when unstoppable longing for him had almost snuffed her will to go on. But even then, he’d exposed her to the full range of his faces. Passionate, anxious, shocked, angry, possessive, bewildered and betrayed. Thinking none of those had been real had only made her unable to trust her judgment again. Just as she couldn’t now.

  Carefully removing the ice, he lifted her hand to his lips. Holding her eyes as if he wanted her to let him into her soul, he feathered each knuckle with a kiss that was tender, almost reverent. And something in the center of her being buckled.

  For him to be kissing the hand that had just inflicted an act of aggression and affront on him was too much. Unsteadily, she withdrew her hand.

  He exhaled, flexed his hand as if it hurt, too, before it went up to the side of his neck.

  Then he suddenly grinned at her. “What do you know...you fixed my neck!”

  The spontaneity of his grin, the ease, the warmth, how real this all felt—her longing for the man she’d once loved with every fiber of her being—suddenly overwhelmed her. The yearning that had writhed inside her like a burning serpent lurched so hard that her nails dug into her good hand’s palm until they almost broke her skin.

  “Okay. You achieved your purpose, made sure my sisters-in-law heard the kind of conversation you forced on me....”

  His hand rose in protest. “How could I have known they were with you?”

  “Because you apparently keep me under surveillance every second I’m awake, maybe even when I’m asleep.”

  “I told you I didn’t know where you were.”

  “Even if I believe this, I told you I had company. In fact, having anyone else present would have been even more damaging. But you established what you wanted. That our relationship goes far beyond last night, and its past nature is also implicit if you could talk to me with such... audacity.”

  “How could they have known I was being...audacious?”

  “Because your phone seduction session made my responses clear to anyone who knows anything about sexual innuendo. So—you’ve established my ‘impurity’ and your role in it. Now, even if I want to back down, it will be at the cost of disgracing my family, now that my ‘shame’ is out. While you will keep the high moral ground, even if you’re the once defiler of my honor, since you’re here now doing the honorable thing.”

  He coughed an incredulous laugh. “Where are you getting all this? If you believe your sisters-in-law suspect anything, and it disturbs you, I’ll take care of it. I started my ‘phone seduction’ before I knew you weren’t alone, and I didn’t continue it because of any of the motives you assign me. You’re crediting me with a premeditation I already told you I’m incapable of around you.”

  Feeling her head would burst with frustration, she began to turn away when a cabled arm slipped around her waist, clasping her to his formidable length. “I was up all night, Jala, every inch of me roaring for you. I let you go last night because I thought I must give you some breathing room. But my resolutions vanished the moment I got here. All I could think was that you were near, and all I planned was having you, and this time not letting you walk away. As you did last night. As you did six years ago.”

  She pushed out of his arms. “You can stop doing this.”

  “I can’t. I can never stop wanting you.”

  “I mean it, Mohab. Stop it. I already told you I’m going through with this charade. Now drop the seduction act.”

  The arms reaching for her stopped in midmotion, dropping to his sides. “What reason do you assign me for acting this time, if, according to you, I’ve already fulfilled my purpose?”

  She shrugged, shoulders knotted, throat closing. “I never know anything where you’re concerned.”

  “Didn’t you say you know everything about my motivations and methods?” He shook his head. “Does this mean you didn’t believe anything I said last night?”

  She didn’t know anymore. The dejection in his eyes, the intensity she felt from him, all added to the verdict of her senses. Even if she couldn’t trust those, she couldn’t disregard her observations.

  His reaction to her punch had been seamless. If he’d been acting, he would have been resenting it—and her. It would have manifested in even momentary fury, in an instinctive spark of retaliation, before he curbed it. He’d only been astonished, and the instant hue of his surprise had been acceptance, indulgence, even elation. As if he’d meant it when he’d said he’d take anything from her, as if he welcomed any punishment she inflicted if it would vent her anger toward him.

  She could be seeing what she wanted to see all over again, but she...

  All her hairs stood on end. Something had slithered in the background, at ground level....

  Her tension deflated on a squeaked exclamation. “A cat!”

  She blinked at the magnificent creature. A robust white Turkish Angora, clearly just woken up from a sound catnap with the way it stopped to stretch and arch. Then it slunk toward them, languidly weaving its way around furniture.

  “I wonder whose it is!” She turned incredulous eyes to Mohab. “Did you know it was here?”

  Her eyes almost popped at the change that came over Mohab’s expression as he looked at the cat. It was the tender delight she’d only seen on people’s faces when they beheld their babies.

  “I should hope so, since she’s mine. Or should I s
ay, I’m hers?” He bent as the cat approached him, tail straight up and trembling in the cat-tail-language equivalent of “I’m crazy about you,” before rearing up on her hind legs like a baby asking to be picked up. Mohab obliged at once, scooping her up, cradling her expertly against his massive chest...and getting white fur all over his pristine black clothes.

  Purring so loudly the sound vibrated in Jala’s ears, the cat surrendered to Mohab’s pampering as he cooed to her. “Who’s awake? Who’s had a good nap?”

  She gaped at the incongruent scene. Mohab, that lethal juggernaut, all but melting over a cat.

  Mohab had a cat.

  As the knowledge hit bottom in her mind, another movement made her snap her gaze to the same direction where Whitey had come from, only to find more felines advancing.

  He had cats. Four of them.

  Or maybe there were more still napping in there. At this point, she would believe just about anything.

  One of the cats, a miniature glossy-black panther, broke into a lope and threw himself at Mohab’s feet. Then, butting his head against Mohab’s legs, he made him widen his stance so he could weave between them in excited figure eights. The other two cats, a tabby Scottish Fold and a Russian Blue, soon joined in, purring the place down.

  Mohab looked over at her when he had two cats in his arms, his expression that of a proud dad.

  The tightness in her throat grew thorns. “Is this your...pride?”

  “They are my pride and joy. They’re my family.”

  The word family penetrated her heart, a shard that had never stopped driving deep.

  He’d once told her his life story. He was an only child and, like her, both his parents were dead. But he hadn’t lost them to illness or to heartbreak. He’d lost them—twelve years ago, now—in a terrorist attack. One meant for him.

  Whenever she remembered that she’d used that knowledge to take a stab at him, she still choked with shame. It hadn’t mattered that she’d been mad with agony—it had still been unforgivable. Some things should never be used as a weapon, no matter what. Should never be used at all. It had been dishonorable of her to use such an intimate and painful injury against him.

  It never ceased to torment her that she owed him that much. Her life, and an apology for that cruel transgression. But since she’d thought she’d never settle those debts with him, she’d added them to her forward payment to the world.

  But he’d invoked her debt last night. Then there’d been everything else. And just when she thought she was confused enough about him, she discovered he had cats!

  She found herself asking, “You travel with them?”

  He bent down, gently letting both cats jump lithely from his embrace. “People travel with their kids, don’t they?”

  The way he said that tightened her throat more. “You never told me you liked cats. Or that you had any.”

  Straightening, he approached her with a stealthy grace, like a huge version of the felines, his eyes radiating this new warmth that seeped to her core. “I didn’t then. I’ve always loved cats, all animals for that matter, but my lifestyle made me unable to adopt any. In my previous post, I had no control over my schedule. After I resigned—and after I settled a...personal project that took me all over the world five years ago—I set up my own business. Then I got my beauties, here—all rescue kitties, each with a story of her or his own.” Suddenly his expression changed, as if something disturbing had just occurred to him. “You don’t like cats?”

  Her heart thudded at the alarm in his eyes. “I’m crazy about them. I had three cats when I lived in Judar, but I lost them all before I left. I fostered only in the States, since my globe-trotting lifestyle wouldn’t accommodate a cat. Unlike you, I don’t have my own private jet to haul them along with me.”

  His smile broke out again. “Let’s test this claim, shall we? My darlings are cat-lover detectors. We’ll let them scan you, but be advised...their verdict is final and incontestable.”

  He might be joking, but she was anxious they might snub her. Why, she didn’t know. She was doing her best to alienate him, so why did she wish to appeal to his “kids”?

  She swallowed the contrary lump of nervousness. “How will you know they approve of me?”

  “How do cats show approval?”

  “Each cat has his or her own way of showing it.”

  “Exactly.” He flashed her a sizzling smile as he prowled to the sitting area, took off his jacket, dropped it to the ground and let his cats walk over it. “I should have changed into something light colored as soon as I let them out of the carriers. Only Rigel goes with this outfit.”

  His shoulders seemed to widen as he slowly started to unbutton his black shirt. Her heart stuttered. He was stripping.

  She could swear the silk slithered off his skin with an aching sigh, as if it hated to separate from his flesh. She knew just how it felt, remembered how her hands used to ache for the time when they could glide all over him.

  As his formidable back was exposed, symmetry and perfection made into a symphony of muscle and sinew, her salivary glands gushed. She was literally drooling over him.

  At the damask burgundy couch in the center of the sitting area he turned to her, giving her a full frontal assault.

  He was even more magnificent than she remembered. His chest had broadened, his abdomen had become more defined, every bulge and slope harder, packing more power, every line chiseled by endless stamina and determination. Her breasts swelled, reliving nights of abandon writhing beneath that chest, her stomach clenched with the memory of that ridged abdomen bearing down on her, working her into a frenzy. Her core throbbed with the moist heat that had been simmering since he’d walked into that stateroom.

  Then in one of those movements that made her want to devour every glorious inch of him, he sank down on the couch.

  Spreading his bulk over the cushions, he braced his legs wide apart and caressed the couch on both sides. The invitation was for his cats this time, who zoomed to obey, climbing all over him, butting their heads against every part of him, jumping on the back of the couch so they could reach his face and rub and kiss and lick him all over it. He surrendered to their love with a look of bliss, his eyes fixing her in a steady barrage of seduction.

  Before this, he was the most overwhelming man to her, just by existing. Now this was...cruel. This had to be the most mind-bending thing he’d ever exposed her to. The sight of him, surrounded by cats, letting them plumb the depths of his love, roaming all over him in total trust and affection.

  Did that man want to blow her ovaries?

  He caught the ginger Scottish Fold who was crossing his lap and deposited a kiss on his head. “This is Mizar...as you can see why.” She certainly could. The tomcat was a magnificent tabby with the cutest white apron in history. Mohab put him down to answer the impatience of the Russian Blue as she asked for her turn. “And this is Nihal. She is addicted to water taps, so I have to leave her a trickle on all the time. Always a challenge on flights.” Nihal meant thirst quenching, so very appropriate, too. After she took her turn in her “daddy’s” embrace she moved on and Mohab turned to the little panther. “And this is Rigel. I bet you know why I called him that.”

  She sure did. Rigel meant foot, and Rigel was definitely a foot cat, the one who’d hurled himself at Mohab’s feet. Actually Rigel, the star, meant The Foot of the Great One, which was very apt for both cat and owner....

  Hey...wait! “These are all star names, ones discovered by ancient astronomers from the region.”

  Surprise flared in his eyes. “They are my little stars. Very observant...and knowledgeable of you.”

  Pleasure revved inside her stomach. She’d once craved his praise, praise he’d lavished on her, that had made her feel like the most special person in the world. So even in that regard, nothing had changed.<
br />
  “And this is Sette—my mistress and queen of my household.” The white cat jumped on his lap, curled up and rested her head on his thigh, eyes focused in the distance. Mohab swept her in strokes, making Jala feel his hand running down her back. “But you can be my human mistress and queen.”

  Queen. She still couldn’t get her head around the fact that Mohab wasn’t just a prince anymore. Or just a major force in the world of extragovernmental crisis management. He would have his own throne. And if she married him, she’d be his queen.

  Which couldn’t happen. He would have to look for someone else to...

  The thought lodged into her brain like a red-hot ax.

  How dog in the manger was that? She wouldn’t be his, and she couldn’t bear completing a thought where another woman was?

  But that wasn’t new. She’d spent years shying away from any thoughts along these lines, always keeping her mind in a fever of preoccupation so she’d never focus on images of Mohab with other women, when he must have had scores....

  “Won’t you proceed with our test?”

  His soft question severed her oppressive musings. Feeling any sudden movement would collapse her to the ground, she started toward him. The moment she moved, all four cats seemed to suddenly take notice of her, ears pricking, bodies in attention mode, eyes fixing her with the same intensity as their daddy’s.

  She came down on the far end of the couch, taking care not to touch any of the cats. Mizar was the first one who approached, sniffing her tentatively. She’d missed having a cat so much, all she wanted was to grab his robust body and bury her face in his thick fur.

  Reeling back the urge, she gave Mizar her hand to sniff, cooing to him, “Ma ajmalak ya sugheeri...do you know how beautiful you are, my little one?” Mizar answered by bonking her hand with his head. Her heart trembled with this affection it only reserved for animals. “Oh, you do know exactly how delightful you are, you compact package of joy, you!”