The Sheikha’s Unexpected Protector: Desert Sheikhs Book Two

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The Sheikha’s Unexpected Protector: Desert Sheikhs Book Two Page 4

by North, Leslie


  Angry Arabic erupted, accusations flying. A man gestured wildly with a pink handbag.

  “We should get out of here,” Kalif said, but before they could move down any of the aisles leading out of the market, a gunshot pierced the chaos. Screams rang out, and suddenly the crowd became a roiling sea of panicked people.

  “Stay with me,” Kalif said into her ear, his voice not betraying an ounce of worry. He was sturdy and thick beside her. She nodded up at him, knotting her fist into the front of his plain black shirt.

  But the crowd rocked and pummeled them. People pushed, others shrieked. Chaos mounted, panic finally reaching her when someone yanked at her robes, dragging her partially away from Kalif.

  She screamed and reached out for Kalif. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her in like a fishing line, but then a surge in the dense crowd separated her from him, and she was carried off like a buoy in the stream.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she was moved against her will, pressed and pushed from all directions by the force of the crowd. She struggled to keep sight of Kalif, but he was swallowed up in the throngs of unfamiliar faces.

  “Kalif!” Her own voice disappeared instantly in the sea of shouts. She was carried off, helpless in the ebb and flow of panicked market goers. Toward the edge of the market, she seized on an opening in the crowd and leapt into an alleyway. Breathless, she watched as people elbowed and shoved past. The market was a mass of bright colors, open mouths. She searched each face, desperate to spot Kalif.

  He never showed. There had to be thousands of people crammed into the tight corners of the market. Her heart hammered in her chest as she searched.

  Minutes crept by. The crowd thinned some, but the energy level was skittish and suspicious. When finally there was enough room to move within the market proper, she stepped out of the alleyway, fighting to return to where she thought she’d left Kalif. She used elbows and grunts as people shouldered past her. Once she reached the area she recognized, she turned in a slow circle. She clutched her bags tighter. He couldn’t be lost. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she stood, rooting herself against the current of people.

  A hand connected with her ass, and she jerked, looking behind her. A man jeered as he passed. She stiffened, searching harder for Kalif’s face in the market. He had to be here. He couldn’t have gone too far.

  As time crept on, Salari’s stomach turned into a knot. She waited for almost twenty minutes before deciding to move on. Maybe if she went outside, headed into the brightness of the more spacious modern city, returned to the car they’d come in… She swallowed hard, vulnerability clamping down hard. It was easy to feel untouchable under Kalif’s steely embrace. But the hullabaloo reminded her that her safety depended on Kalif alone. She wouldn’t last long in these throngs, not when she was a fallen princess, a hated public figure simply skittering in the shadows of public life.

  Salari wound through the tight corridors of the market, alert and jittery as she tried to keep an eye out for Kalif. She hadn’t even brought her phone with her. How would she find her way back? Anxiety coated her.

  “Where are you going, lovely lady?”

  Another man smirked at her as he passed, sending an exaggerated kissing face her way. She frowned, lifting the hood of her robe so that it covered her head. When she stepped out into the open space surrounding the market center, the sunlight hit her with full force. A few old women leaned over a railing nearby, arguing with a vendor about the amount of turmeric he’d given them. Salari tried to calm her racing heart by pausing to listen to the conversation. Something innocuous, something normal.

  Her gaze settled on the influx of people coming into the market. Plenty of gazes found hers once she started to focus. Maybe Kalif had been right. She drew more attention than she liked to admit.

  Her gaze settled on a man on the far edge of the crowd. Dressed in all black, something about him attracted her attention. As he came nearer, he tugged a black mask over his face. Realization seeped into her. The attacker.

  Questions swarmed her as she looked around frantically. Where the hell was Kalif? She darted back into the market, desperate to get lost in the crowd again. That had to be her attacker; what sort of person wore a mask like that in broad daylight? She hurried as fast as she could, squeezing between people in an effort to lose the man in case he really was following her. And here she was in bright green clothes, practically a walking sign saying “Look at me, here I am!”

  A hand grabbed her by the elbow, spinning her around. She gasped, panic slicing her in two. Kalif’s eyes stared down at her, concern creasing his face.

  “Salari. There you are!” The relief in his voice matched her own. She fell forward into his chest, wrapping her arms around the solid trunk of his body.

  “Oh, thank God!” She relished the feel of him against her for only a split second. Looking up at him, she hissed, “I think my attacker is here. I saw a suspicious man outside the market.”

  “Let’s keep moving.” Kalif switched into work mode, the soft lines of his relief melding into something hard and focused. “Come this way.”

  His grip around her was solid steel this time. She leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his waist. The scent of him, vetiver and sweat, sank into her, blurring her focus. Kalif led her out of the market through another exit, which led to a small side street lined with storefronts. They weaved through the pedestrians until Kalif pulled her inside a small shop.

  The walls were lined with glass ornaments, sparkling amber and jade. Salari followed Kalif into the depths of the store, lurking behind a back aisle.

  “What are we doing in here?”

  “Just wanting to see who comes by.” Kalif’s eyes were glued to the stream of pedestrians outside the store.

  “Hello, can I help you?” The shopkeeper glided up to them, a toothy smile on his face. As soon as his gaze fell on Salari, his smile faded. “You are…”

  Salari’s belly tightened. The shopkeeper slowly narrowed his eyes as he looked her up and down.

  “You are the princess,” he said softly. “The beautiful, lost princess of Kattahar.”

  6

  Kalif’s irritation reached an all-time high when the shopkeeper stepped closer, reaching out to touch Salari’s robe. Not only had he lost Salari once that day, now he had to beat back the fans. She recoiled as Kalif stepped in front of her.

  “Listen.” Kalif clamped a hand on the shopkeeper’s shoulder, jostling him out of a reverent, if a bit predatory, gaze. “You haven’t seen Princess Salari. You haven’t even heard about her. And if you tell anyone otherwise, I will personally come back here to kill you.”

  The shopkeeper furrowed his brow, looking between him and Salari. “Okay.” He nodded slowly, backing away. “Okay.”

  Kalif sent a hard stare to the shopkeeper before leading Salari toward the door. They had to keep moving now, because staying still wasn’t safe anymore, either. Protecting the princess meant keeping her presence a secret, too.

  “What was that about?” Salari hissed as Kalif pulled her further down the street. A hen leapt onto the street and they dodged it.

  “I don’t want him gossiping.” Kalif walked faster. Her emerald robes flowed behind her, the hood shifting partway off her head. Dark hair streaked across her forehead. “Who knows who he’ll tell? This is how rumors start, and we need to stop those at all costs.”

  “Well, you don’t need to slit a man’s throat over it,” she muttered.

  He laughed through his nose. “Not this time, maybe.” Kalif led her around a corner, slowing as he tried to orient himself. If someone was truly following them, then swinging back to find the car might be walking right into their trap. Their car would be the easiest thing to stake out.

  A secret tunnel system branched out from the palace, and one of the access points sat about two blocks from here. As they walked, Kalif turned the idea over in his mind. If he used the tunnel to get back, then he ran the risk of Salari using it to escape later on,
when she chafed at his restrictions. He could see her wanting to dabble in the tunnels, as a way to buck his protection.

  For a few paces, he was tense with indecision. Salari’s breath came out in soft pants beside him as she struggled to keep up, and he realized he was walking too fast for her.

  “Are you tired?” He slowed, wrapping his arm around her narrow shoulders. She shook her head, but her face was flushed.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just…worried.”

  The tightness of her voice convinced him: they’d take the tunnels. What good was worrying about her escaping via the tunnels later if she never even made it back to the palace? One wrong decision could be fatal for Salari. He squeezed the side of her arm.

  “We’re fine. And we’ll be taking a secret way back. Something that almost nobody knows about.”

  A large warehouse butted up against the end of the street. As they approached, Kalif fished a tiny key out from the dense key ring in his pocket. He bullied a rusted lock open and prompted her to go inside, then closed the door behind them.

  “Where are we?”

  Kalif led her over broken cement toward a closet door in the back of the building. “This is royal property. Something that was kept a secret, mostly for use by the guards.” Kalif pulled open the closet door; the clanging of the steel scraping against concrete echoed through the cavernous warehouse. A gaping hole greeted them. Using the flashlight on his phone, Kalif illuminated the first few feet of the passageway. “This leads back to the palace.”

  Salari’s eyes were wide as she stared inside. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course. It’s simply a secret. That’s why the entrance is under lock and key. Only a few guards have the key. But you can’t tell anyone you know about this. Not even your brother.”

  “Of course.” Salari peered around. “Good thing we didn’t know about this when we were younger and more daring.”

  Kalif smiled, but his amusement faded as he took a tentative step inside. He’d only used the tunnels a handful of times. He hated the dark, tightly drawn corridors, the way the entire world seemed to close in around him when he was down here.

  Salari inhaled sharply, yanking her hand away.

  “What?” He spun to look.

  “You’re squeezing me.” She sent him a confused look. “Are you scared?”

  Kalif felt himself swell in response, as though to convince her, and himself, how ludicrous the idea was. “No. Of course not.”

  But after a few more steps, something skittering by stopped him. He gasped, listening intently. Salari chuckled a moment later.

  “You are scared.”

  “I am not.” He tried to swallow back his nervousness. But of course, Salari had always been freakishly in tune with him. It seemed she could sometimes even read his thoughts.

  “It’s okay if you’re claustrophobic.” The lightness in her tone felt just like old times. Like the ocean of animosity no longer existed between them. “I can lead.”

  He sent her a stern look. “No, Salari. You’re not leading.”

  “Oh, come on.” She grabbed the phone from his hand, shining the flashlight all around. “See? This is step one. Familiarize yourself with the tunnel. See that it’s just a bunch of mildewed rock and questionable moisture.”

  He cracked a grin as she led him by the hand. The softness of her skin against his wrapped him in warmth. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, after all, if she led.

  “Look, there’s even arrows.” She pulled him ahead, shining the light on the wall where basic directions were etched. “The palace is this way. One mile.”

  Their footsteps fell softly, occasional splashes of water reaching the leg of his pants. Salari hummed as she led the way, squeezing his hand as if reassuring him that it would all be fine.

  “I never imagined you’d be scared of a little old tunnel,” she mused.

  “You never know what creeps in the dark,” he said, his palms itching with the urge to snag her at the waist, bring her up against his body like she had been in the market. He could be that surprise in the dark. If this damn tunnel weren’t so damn creepy. Something brushed against his pant leg. He inhaled sharply.

  Salari laughed softly. “It’s nice to see a big brute like you get nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous.” His chest was tight with wondering what new surprise might emerge from the shadows. “I’m just…watching.”

  “Sure, sure.” Her amusement was evident in her voice. “Look, we’re almost there.”

  After a few more minutes of walking, the flashlight beam highlighted the dim outline of a door. The hammering between his ears lessened. The torture was coming to an end.

  “All right, Mr. Bodyguard.” When they reached the door, she handed him the phone, a sweet smile quirking her lips. “I’ll let you take the lead again. We can both act like this never happened. Your secret is safe in the tunnel.”

  He shook his head, though she couldn’t see him. He jimmied the lock on the palace side door. It groaned with disuse as he opened it, casting a shaft of light onto the damp stone floor. In front of them, the door opened into a little-used area of the palace, part of the old servant’s quarters from Zatar’s grandfather’s time.

  “Do what you wish with this information,” he said, sending her a smile. “I owe you, more than I can ever repay.”

  * * *

  The smile slowly faded from her face as he shut the door behind them. Something in his tone made everything grind to a halt, as if the earth itself had shuddered to a stop on its axis.

  “Yeah, actually. You do.” She jerked her gaze down to the floor. “Rescuing me today was one repayment, I suppose.”

  Kalif had always been such a strong protector. Like he would have done anything to make sure she came out okay. Which made his betrayal ten years ago even more confusing. Today, she’d seen the Kalif of her adolescence. The man who would have jumped in front of a train to push her to safety if needed. The man she’d sincerely believed would end up her one and only.

  When she looked up, Kalif had stepped closer. Earnestness was written on his face, his dark eyes swimming with emotion. When his hands squeezed the sides of her arms, her knees went weak. This man was too much. The way he made her feel was too much.

  “I would have never been able to forgive myself if anything happened to you.” He wet his bottom lip, and her gaze snagged there on the plumpest part of his mouth.

  “That’s just your job,” she said weakly, feeling herself falling into quicksand that sucked her right back into the past. A time when Kalif was the sun around which her entire galaxy revolved; a time when her days started and ended with thoughts of him.

  “No, Salari.” He sighed softly, the tang of his scent reaching her again. She wilted slightly, but he held her steady under his iron grip. “This is more than a job to me. You are not a job. You are…” His voice gave out. “This is me making up for the past.”

  Her vision went spotty, the weight of his words hitting her like a surprise punch. But she couldn’t even muster a response under the intense scrutiny of his gaze. She’d been craving this moment, this nearness, for too long to even recall. How many times had she imagined his apology, the words that would wipe away all the hurt and confusion?

  And now, here she was: quivering on the precipice. So close to absolution it made her dizzy.

  She wanted to ask why. She wanted to know what had made him lie about her, why he’d offered her up as some sort of virgin sacrifice in the bizarre battle of princes and kings.

  But more than that, she wanted to feel him against her. To fill her senses with his scent and his energy. Feel every inch of him melt into her, the way that only he could.

  Salari wasn’t sure how it happened, just knew that a moment later she was leaning forward, clutching onto the granite hills of his biceps, searching out his lips with her own. Kalif swooped down and met her halfway, their lips smashing into a fervent kiss.

  Kalif’s arms squeezed around her. A soft moan e
scaped her, as prickles of pleasure swarmed her. She’d never found a better place than in his arms. She hated how true this still was, even a decade later.

  One kiss turned into two, which turned into twenty. She kissed him so hard and fast her lips went numb, like they were both desperate to make up for lost time. Kalif backed her up against the wall, his hands following the curve of her body downward until they came to rest at the top of her ass.

  She arched her back toward him, urging him to take her, to lift her, to eradicate every remaining inch of space between them. Kalif took the hint, hooking his hands under her ass cheeks, hoisting her up against the wall.

  Salari inhaled sharply, her thighs automatically splaying open to welcome him. It was as if her body was primed to accept him and only him. It didn’t matter how many other men she dated, how many times she told herself Kalif was done; her body was seemingly programmed just for him.

  The hardness between his legs immediately settled into the softness of her pussy. The heat between her legs was unbearable. She hooked an arm around his neck, breathing heavily as she searched his face.

  “Salari,” he murmured, his voice dreamy and far away. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  The honesty in his voice sliced her open, exposing a rawness she wasn’t ready to confront. Not with him. Not now.

  She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. The unresolved hurt of the past ten years came rushing back to her. Shame flamed in her cheeks, and she pushed at his hands. “Put me down, Kalif. I can’t do this.”

  He blinked, unmoving.

  “Put me down,” she repeated, wiggling her hips. He lowered her gently to the floor and she tore herself away.

  “Salari,” he said, his voice gruff and commanding again. “Where are you going?”

  “I just want to take a shower,” she said, keeping her head down. That slip in her willpower was shameful and embarrassing. She should have known any amount of alone time with Kalif might lead to that. The man’s good looks had always cast a spell over her. She’d just thought that at almost thirty years old, she’d be able to stand firm against their past.

 

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