Three years ago
It was no longer an uncommon sight for the palace to see Malik dressed for riding at dawn and spending almost the entire day in the stables. Since his return to the kingdom, he had successfully made a name for himself as a horse breeder. Fans all over the world still clamored for his comeback in racing, but as far as the sheikh was concerned that part of his life was over and done with. He would have stuck with it only if it had been capable of making him forget, but it had not. Nothing could. He had long accepted this – and had since found a different way to fuck things up.
“A visitor for you, Sheikh.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled his gloves off, and the guards bowed before retreating. Left behind was a petite brunette, and as soon as the door to his office closed her lips curved in a provocative smile. “You had a need for me, Your Highness?”
Malik threw his gloves away, and when he turned to face her again, Iris had already settled herself on top of a steel cabinet, back against the post, and legs wide open. As he strode towards her, she reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it all the way up to her waist. The action bared her legs and lack of her underwear, her quivering pussy already glistening with need.
He unzipped himself, and Iris let out a moan of satisfaction as he thrust inside of her without a word, his already engorged cock sinking hard into her moist depths. Her arms looped over around his neck as the sheikh began to fuck her, harder than any man had, and her head fell back. “Yes.” Her eyes closed, her nails raking his back. “ Ye—-”
His mouth covered hers, and she kissed him with such undisguised hunger that he almost felt guilty.
Almost.
She probably thought he was kissing her out of desire, but the truth was, Malik only wanted her to shut up. He didn’t want her to make a single fucking sound because then it would be ruined. He would no longer be able to pretend it was another girl he was fucking—-
Squeezing his eyes shut, he grabbed the cheeks of her ass and squeezed hard as he drove his cock back into her. He felt her start to moan, and he kissed her harder. The urge to make noise disappeared, and Iris was now busy sucking on his tongue.
“Come inside me,” she whispered into his ear.
He pulled away, his lips twisting into a smile as he gazed down at her. “Don’t push it.”
A throaty laugh escaped her. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
He only grunted, and because he wasn’t really in the mood to chat, he plumped her breast and drew one nipple into his mouth. He bit hard, and Iris let out a gasp. He might not give a damn about her, but he wasn’t that much an asshole not to pay any attention to her needs. Her breasts were her most sensitive area, and in moments, Iris’ hips were pushing against his wildly.
She started to scream his name, but again he captured her mouth with his, not wanting to hear it.
They came together in harsh, raw silence, the slapping of their bodies the only sound that tinged the air.
When the sheikh finally pulled away, Iris took one look at his drawn face and knew better than to say a word. He was one mysteriously moody son of a bitch, and she had been in this business long enough to know it wasn’t her face he saw when fucking her.
A pity, but she didn’t really care. As long as he continued to compensate her the way he did for their every meeting, he could even have her dress up as his mother and she would do it with a smile.
It was only minutes before dinner when Malik returned to his family’s private wing. Altair was nowhere to be seen, but his mother and Kyria were both in the living room.
Her eyes lit up at the sight of him. “ Marhava .” She started to get up, but he forestalled her hug with an immediate shake of his head.
“I’m all dirty and sweaty,” he told her by way of excuse. The truth was, the mere thought of having her close while his skin still bore another woman’s touch was sickening. It didn’t matter that she probably wouldn’t even care that he had been fooling around with another woman. All he knew was that it didn’t feel right.
“You’ve been spending more and more hours riding,” she commented curiously.
“Yes, he has.” Vanna’s gaze bored through him. “Hasn’t he?”
His lips tightened, knowing the reason for his mother’s frosty tone of disapproval. As Vanna was strictly of the old guard, she fully believed in employing a retinue of spies in the palace, and he had no doubt she had received more than one report about him riding more than horses in the stables.
“A word with you in private, please.”
Kyria blinked at Vanna’s tone. “Is everything alright?”
“Don’t mind her.” Malik’s tone was light even as he gave his mother a look of warning. “She’s just upset I haven’t spending enough time with the family.”
“Oh.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I kinda feel the same way, too.” Her tone turned wistful. “You really are away so much, Malik. It’s like you’re living here but you’re not really here, you know?”
Vanna patted the girl’s hand, saying reassuringly, “I’m sure he’ll go back to normal eventually. This obsession with riding is just a phase.” She glanced back at her younger son, saying with a smile, “Isn’t it, Malik?”
He smiled back. “Quite.”
But as soon as the two of them were in the privacy of Vanna’s study, the masks both mother and son wore disappeared in a flash, and she said sharply, “People are beginning to talk.”
“Let them.” Malik truly didn’t give a damn.
“Tarif is more than one too many playboy the palace can handle,” she snapped. “If you continue down this road, you might as well turn our kingdom’s palace into a brothel. What kind of message do you think that will deliver to the rest of the world? Do you expect other nations to take us seriously with the way you and Tarif are acting?”
Her words hit home, and he gave her a curt nod. “You’ve made your point.”
“Good.”
“If that’s all—-”
Vanna released a painful sigh at her son’s cold tone. “Oh, Malik. Surely you know I’m not your enemy here.” He didn’t answer, but he had also stopped moving, and she told herself to take heart from this. “I know it’s been hard for you—-”
“Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?” His eyes gleamed, and for one moment it felt like she had her younger son back, the one who was all too wickedly charming and gave Hadwin and her nightly headaches because of his excessive partying. The boy he once was might have been a little too self-centered and immature, but that boy had at least been happy.
This man before her was not.
He had not been happy for such a long time now, and sometimes she found herself wondering if she was to blame for all of this. That if she could turn back time, she wondered if it would have been better if she had simply turned her back on—-
Don’t say it, my love. Hadwin’s imaginary voice was amused and chiding at the same time. Don’t even think it. I know your heart’s in the right place, but those words you are thinking aren’t what you truly feel.
Her head lowered.
Oh, Hadwin. How you always save me.
Malik frowned, sensing a sudden change in his Vanna. “Mother?”
Hearing the note of grim concern in her son’s voice, she quickly looked up, saying simply, “I was talking to your father.”
“I see.” He paused. “You’re having hallucinations. You know that, don’t you?” He frowned at her. “Have you started starving yourself again with one of those fad diets?”
She let out an offended gasp. “I have never—-”
“Mother, you know we love you as we are, don’t you? So, yes, you may be a little overweight—-”
“You hateful boy!” She grabbed the first thing she could reach – a book from her desk – and threw it at him, but her son only caught it with a laugh.
Malik turned the book over and choked. “I knew it!” He showed her the book, and Vanna’s face turned red as she realized exactly which book she had thrown at him.
“Really, Mother? Really? Pokemon Go and Diet?”
He started laughing, and Vanna started seeing red. “Wretch!”
Two years ago
The day of Kyria’s high school graduation dawned bright and clear. Allah is good, Malik thought as he followed the rest of his brothers out of the palace and stepped inside the limousine. Their presence at the ceremony was to be a surprise to Kyria, who in her usual modest way had only requested for Vanna to attend her special day.
“What are you smiling about?” Tarif demanded testily of Malik.
“I was thinking of Kyria,” Malik answered calmly, ignoring his cousin’s tone. It was a well-known fact in the palace that Tarif was the only one among the Al-Atassi sheikhs who turned into a growling, snapping beast in the mornings. That the other sheikh had made the effort to attend Kyria’s eight o’ clock ceremony was proof of how much the young woman meant to him as well.
Rayyan rolled his eyes. “When do you ever not think of her?”
“ Airafi .” Fuck you. “I was merely thinking how well she’s turned out, considering all the circumstances.”
Altair shook his head in amusement, drawling, “While I commend you for your sentiments, don’t you think it’s time you stop talking about her like you’re her father?”
The others laughed as Malik muttered an ill-used and extremely crude profanity in their native language.
“She’s already eighteen, Malik,” Khalil pointed out.
“I know that.” Malik’s tone was irritated. Contrary to the others’ belief, Malik had far from forgotten the fact that Kyria was indeed eighteen, an age considered legal and a mark of adulthood in most parts of the world.
He knew that nothing should legally stop him now from making a move, but even so he found himself unable to do so. Eighteen still felt too young and too soon to chain a woman to his side for eternity. While his stand on this hadn’t changed, something else had.
Kyria at eighteen had a woman’s body, and it was this knowledge that unleashed something primitive inside of him. These days, her body was all he could think about, and the thought would always mutate into a gnawing physical ache every time he saw her. Even as he despised himself for wanting her, he simply couldn’t stop himself of thinking of the things he wanted to do with her.
He would see her breasts heave under her shirt, and it would lead to thoughts of how beautifully shaped they were – the perfect size for his hands to palm and squeeze. Other times, it would have him jacking off in the shower while he thought of the color of her nipples. If – when – he ever saw them, he could probably feast on her lovely nipples for—-
“We’re here,” Altair said.
His brother’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Malik shifted on his seat in an uncomfortable attempt to repress his erection. Lueta. If he didn’t find a way to control his sexual fantasies about Kyria anytime soon, he might end up sporting a boner in public.
Dressed in ordinary robes and their gazes covered with dark glasses, the sheikhs were able to slip inside the auditorium and walk among the other guests unnoticed. Their anonymity would not last of course, and they knew it. Already, the young women around them were giggling and elbowing each other, their eyes glued to the rather remarkable portrait the five tall, broad-shouldered men presented. But even so, the Al-Atassi sheikhs were determined to make the most out of their reprieve, however brief.
“Found her,” Malik said under his breath.
The other sheikhs smirked. Of course their youngest would be the one to find her first.
“Do you remember when we used to play hide and seek at the palace,” Khalil said musingly. Kyria had just moved into the palace then, and they had all been making an effort to cheer the seven-year-old girl up.
Tarif, having now acclimated to the god-awful hours of morning, grinned at the memories Khalil’s words evoked. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.” Malik had always been the one to find Kyria first back then, too, and every time he did the young Malik’s chest would puff and he would strut around the palace as if he was the king of the world simply because he always knew where to find Kyria.
Malik grimaced when he saw the other sheikhs smirking. “For Allah’s sake, stop that,” he muttered.
But of course his older brothers only ignored him, united as always in their desire to needle him.
“He’d be so proud,” Altair recalled with a chuckle, “and then Kyria would burst into tears, and Malik would be remorseful.”
“He’d promise not to find her again first,” Tarif continued in an amused tone, “But the next time we’d play, he wouldn’t be able to help it.”
“It was as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any of us finding her first,” Rayyan said with a grin.
Khalil arched a brow at Malik. “When you think of those times now – could it perhaps mean you already knew then, albeit subconsciously, even when she was just seven?”
Malik scowled. “Fuck all of you.”
The other sheikhs laughed as Malik stalked off, leaving them to trail behind at a relaxed pace. When they reached their youngest brother, it was to find Malik already preoccupied with broodingly staring at Kyria, who was currently talking with other girls.
“That girl on Kyria’s right,” Tarif murmured thoughtfully. “Isn’t she the one who won prom queen?”
Malik reluctantly moved his gaze from Kyria, and an expression of distaste fell over the sheikh’s face when he saw the girl Tarif had singled out. “Indeed.”
“She’s beautiful,” Rayyan observed.
Malik’s lip curled. “Passably attractive, but nothing compared to Kyria.”
The other sheikhs coughed.
Malik frowned. “You honestly don’t think that girl is prettier than Ky?”
They honestly did, just as they knew Malik believed otherwise with equal honesty. Kyria was beautiful to them because she was their sister, but it was also precisely because of this reason that they knew she could never be drop-dead gorgeous by any standards. Her innate elegance made her attractive, her lack of artifice charming, but Kyria would never be the type to turn heads.
But of course Malik didn’t see this.
“You should all have your eyes checked.” Malik’s tone was of complete disgust.
“Err, yes.” Khalil coughed. “We probably should.”
“Let’s continue this conversation later,” Altair said diplomatically. “The ceremony’s about to start, and we’ve yet to say hello.”
As they moved forward, Hannah and the other girls’ chatter began to drift towards them.
Please, come on, can’t that be your graduation gift to us? This was from a slightly chubby girl, her tone pleading.
But they’re really not the type to take photos. This was from Kyria, who sounded uneasy.
Even old photos would do! We just want something of your brothers’.
The other girls chimed in similarly, and when the sheikhs saw Kyria start biting her lip, the men shook their heads in unintended synchrony. All of them knew that when she did that, it meant she was about to give in.
Kyria let out a sigh. “Fine.”
Malik frowned in disapproval. She was always so soft. No wonder people kept trying to take advantage of her.
“I’ll mail you their photos, but only if I get their permission to do so. I can never go behind their backs.”
The other girls cheered.
You promise?
Yes.
All sheikhs? Rayyan, Khalil, Malik, Altair, Tarif?
To which Kyria said slowly, Everyone except maybe...Malik.
Malik was stunned, and so were the other sheikhs. Why didn’t she want the other girls to have a photo of him? Could it mean she was...jealous?
Rayyan almost rolled his eyes when he saw Malik straightened. That was exactly how Malik used to act whenever he was the first to find Kyria’s hiding place.
Why not Malik , some of the girls complained.
Because...because...he’s a playboy!
Malik’s face became expressionless.
The other girls shrugged off Kyria’s words. So what? I just want a photo.
But...but...it’s not just that. He’s also...not...photogenic!
This time, the other sheikhs could no longer help it. Their laughter rang out, drawing everyone’s attention to them, and still they laughed even as the entire auditorium discovered their identities and pandemonium ensued.
Kyria let out a little cry of distress when she realized that Malik could have heard her. Rushing to him, she whispered, “Did you hear?”
“That you thought he was a playboy?” Khalil asked.
“And that he wasn’t, err—-” Tarif smirked at Malik. “ Photogenic?”
Rayyan grinned. “We all heard.”
Kyria let out another cry, and Altair patted her head. “It’s okay, shaqifa . It is never a bad thing to tell the truth.”
****
“B EST DAY EVER!” KYRIA’S eyes were glowing, her face flushed, and she looked like she could at any time explode in sheer joy.
Malik and Altair scowled, for once on the same side against the evil spirit that had taken possession of Kyria. Riding the camel was only fun for a few minutes, but not when the trail was hours long. Camping was fun when it was really glamping in disguise, with an air-conditioned off-road vehicle ready to dune bash for them on their way to a luxurious desert camp. That was the kind of camping the sheikhs preferred. What Kyria asked for her graduation gift, however, was pure torture.
Walking under the scorching sun, riding the camel for hours, and carrying everyone’s gear—-
Kyria made a face when she noticed the way the two sheikhs were looking at her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun?”
“No,” the two brothers answered at the same time, and in the same clipped tone. “We did not.” But this only made Kyria giggle, and the sheikhs exchanged glances. Their initial assumption was indeed correct. Kyria was possessed.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she protested, still giggling. “I just wanted it to be like the way we used to camp.” She turned to Vanna with a look of appeal. “You get it, don’t you, Mama? Doesn’t this bring back memories, like when we had Papa with us?”
Vanna’s eyes teared. Oh, this cute, cute girl! Unable to help it, she hugged Kyria as hard as she could, and she didn’t let up even as the daughter of her heart let out a laughing protest.
“Mama, I can’t breathe!”
Vanna gave the girl one last hug before reluctantly releasing her. “Sorry, darling.”
Malik shook his head in disapproval. “You should report Mother to Social Services, Kyria.”
Kyria laughed, and even Altair grinned while Vanna let out another offended gasp and started rummaging through her bag for something to hurl at her younger son.
Dinner started as a lively affair, with all of them happily lying when Vanna asked how they liked her cooking. The truth was, Vanna was hopeless in the kitchen. It should have been next to impossible to make something as simple as canned beans and hotdogs with marshmallow to taste bad, but the sheikhs’ mother had somehow succeeded.
They started a bonfire near midnight and toasted to Kyria’s graduation. They swapped stories afterwards, of the sheikhs’ escapades when they were young, of the way Kyria used to follow Malik around – even all the way to the men’s toilet at one point – and later, much, much later, they talked about their favorite memories of Hadwin.
By the time they bid each other good night and headed to their separate tents, their hearts were filled with bittersweet pain. None of them had stopped hurting, but at least they could let themselves remember the good times now.
It was around one in the morning when Malik heard a rustling outside his tent, and he immediately sat up, his hand already reaching for the gun he had under his pillow. The flaps of his tent lifted, and his finger moved over the trigger.
Kyria poked her head inside, an uncertain look on her face. “Malik?”
Fuck.
His breath whooshed out of him. “ Lueta .” He glared at her, heart still thundering against his chest at the thought of what he could have done to her. “Don’t just show up like that, Ky. I could’ve shot you.”
She winced at his words. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
He grimaced. “I’m not angry, just...” He shook his head. “What is it? Do you need anything?”
She stepped inside his tent, and Malik stiffened. What the fuck?
“I have a confession.”
His heart slammed harder against his chest, but it was for an entirely different reason this time. “What is it?” His voice was hoarse, and his gaze swept over her before he could even think of what he was doing. Her long hair was unbound, her cotton pajamas covering her from head to toe. Even so, she was the sexiest thing in his eyes, and Malik shifted uncomfortably on his bed as a now-familiar ache clawed at his groin.
“Malik...”
His body stiffened, and blood rushed to his head at the husky sound of her voice. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Could this confession be what he had been waiting for an eternity to hear? Could he finally fuck—-
“I watched The Conjuring last night and now I’m too scared to sleep on my own tent, so if you don’t mind, can I sleep here, please?”
The words had been delivered in such a rush that for several moments Malik was only left staring at her blankly.
“Malik?” Kyria bit her lip. “Can I?”
Her worried voice hurtled him back to reality, and his mind started working again.
He was wrong, after all.
He could not fuck her. Rather, he was just fucked. Still fucked.
“You idiot.” But even to his ears, the words sounded like they were more for himself than her. He was the real idiot here, to think that things could suddenly change just because she had reached a certain age.
Kyria smiled at him sheepishly. “I couldn’t help it. I just really wanted to watch it.” Her look turned hopeful. “So can I?”
Hell no. That was what he should have said since his tent had only one bed. But instead he heard himself say gruffly, “Come on.”
A smile broke over her face. “Yay!”
It was his only warning before she threw herself at him, and he grunted as he bore the weight of her body. She wriggled off him, and although it was just one fucking moment—-
Just one fucking moment—-
The fullness of her breasts, the slide of her legs, the softness of her body—-
Just one fucking moment, and it was more than everything he had ever imagined.
Just one moment, and then it was gone, and she was lying on her side next to him. “It’s just like old times,” she whispered.
Malik only nodded, not wanting to lie outright. It was not like old times. Not one fucking bit.
“Good night, Malik.”
“Good night, Kyria.”
He watched her eyes close, inhaled the fragrance of her skin, listened to the way her breathing evened as she succumbed to sleep. Malik turned on his back and stared up at the sloped ceiling of his tent. This was going to be a hellishly long night.
Or so he thought.
Hours had passed when Malik slowly woke up, and the first thing he became gradually aware of was the feel of a woman lying next to him. Her back was pressed against his chest, and his arms were around her, possessive as a lover. Iris, however, was stiff in his arms, but this only amused him. Was this some kind of role-playing game where she would play hard to get and he’d need to coax a response from her?
He would indulge her for now , Malik decided in sleepy arousal. He began rubbing his half-erect cock against the cheeks of her ass, which seemed fuller than he remembered. He reached around her body, his fingers finding her pussy with ease—-
A whimper—-
His eyes flew open.
Kyria.
He shot to a sitting position. Fuck. Kyria’s trembling figure rose as well, and when she turned to look at him, her face was white and she was looking at him with fear in her eyes.
FUCK.
“I’m sorry,” he bit out.
She nodded jerkily.
“I thought you were someone else.”
“O-of course.”
FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.
“Did I frighten you?”
Her lips parted and closed.
That was answer enough, wasn’t it? He had frightened her. If she wanted him like the way he wanted her, she wouldn’t have been frightened. She would have been aroused. But she was not.
“I think I should go,” Kyria whispered.
“I think you should.” His voice was harsh, and it was all he could do not to lash out as Kyria stumbled in her haste to leave his tent.
It was over.
He had taken a risk, gambled on waiting for her, and now it was over.
There was nothing to wait for.