Lykan
My Scarlette steps out of the apartment building and I forget how to breathe.
It’s a low-cut red satin corset with lace panels at the side, cinched to show off her absurd little waist. The skirt’s a single layer of chiffon, shorter in the front, scandalously sheer when backlit, and there’s a tiny silk cape draped over her shoulders, hood up, framing her flushed face and shining eyes.
She’s dressed like a storybook fantasy, but the look on her face makes it seem like every step she makes is torture. She’s gripping her tiny red clutch like it’s her only shield against the world, and a blush steals over her cheeks when she finally notices me waiting by the limo.
“You look exquisite, habibti .”
“I’ve never worn something like this.”
“I would hope not.” I then open the car door and gesture her in, and once we’re both inside, I hit the privacy button before turning to her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks nervously.
“Because you make me want to fuck you. Hard .”
My Scarlette chokes, turns red, and gasps all at the same time.
And I find it very...cute.
“S-Stop teasing me!”
“I’m simply stating a fact, Ms. Hood.”
She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t understand you. I truly don’t. Why can’t you see...how can’t you see that the two of us don’t make sense?”
If it were any other woman asking me this, I would have long been bored out of my mind, and likely annoyed. All the words would have sounded coy and patently false. But my fiancée, however...
Scarlette is different, and it’s why, for better or for worse...
“There are some things in life that you simply know.”
I’ve made up my mind about her.
“Do you not agree?”
“I...don’t know.”
“That man, for instance.”
Her head snaps toward me. “Vaughn?”
“How long have you known him?”
She fidgets, avoiding my gaze. “Practically my whole life.”
“And yet deep down inside—” I lean closer, watching the color drain from her face. “You’ve always known, haven’t you?”
Her tongue wets her lower lip, and I almost groan. “Known what?”
She’s trying to play dumb. Trying very hard not to blush. And failing.
A hot, sharp spike of jealousy punches through me. Not the cool calculating kind I know how to suppress, but something raw, feral, dangerous.
It’s the kind of jealousy that makes a man see red and think murder.
“I command you to forget about him.”
“But—”
“Do not challenge me on this, habibti. ”
“You keep calling me that. What does it mean?”
I bare my teeth. “Shall I show you?”
She quickly shakes her head, her expression alarmed, and I nearly smile despite the jealous rage that is still churning inside of me.
Wise girl.
She already understands that when I want her to show something, it’s sure to have both of us burn.
“Are you sure about that, habibti ?”
I lean in, Scarlette leans back...and that’s when the limousine slows to a stop, and relief flashes over her features.
“W-We’re here, Sheikh Qahiri,” she stammers.
And so we are.
But even so.
Her eyes widen when I continue leaning forward, but before she can do anything else, my fingers have already curved around her nape, my breath teasing her ear as I whisper words that are both a warning and a promise.
“This isn’t over, Miss Hood.”
My Scarlette shudders, and I let her feel the smile curve against her cheek. Teasing her is a delicious pastime, and one I have no intention of ending anytime soon.
We exit the limousine together, and her fingers tremble slightly as they slip into the crook of my arm.
“I feel out of place,” she whispers as I lead her up the steps.
“Don’t be.”
She shakes her head, a helpless smile touching her lips. “It’s not that easy.”
But it is, actually.
Everyone in this place will accept her without me having to say a word.
She is with me.
That is all they have to know to respect her.
But what I failed to forget is how men are still men...and fear can only hold them back to a point. After that, lust will take over, and that is exactly what happens the moment we step inside the receiving hall of Ambassador Farouk’s home.
Fuck.
Every male head turns toward her, and I realize my mistake all at once.
I’ve been so consumed by the idea of dressing her up for myself.
..I forgot what it would feel like to share her, and my jaw clenches, knowing that I only have myself to blame.
I shrug off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders.
It’s so large on her petite frame that the sleeves swallow her hands completely.
She looks up at me in surprise, and I find myself issuing my second command for the evening.
“You are not to take this off at all costs. Understood?”
I shoot her one last warning look before turning my attention back to the guests that have lined up to greet us, and I can feel her confusion growing as they bow their heads and speak to me with deference.
It seems she’s only aware of my reputation as a businessman, but not of my royal standing in Sharasa.
Ah, my poor innocent Scarlette.
Was that why she thought an engagement could provide her an escape clause?
Ambassador Farouk approaches us with a smile. “Your Highness, thank you for honoring us with your presence.”
“Ambassador Farouk.” Now seems as good a time as any to burst my Scarlette’s bubble, and I notice the ambassador’s eyes widening as I pull her close. For those of us from the Kingdom of Sharasa, such intimacy carries enormous weight...and consequences, depending on one’s intentions.
“This is my fiancée Scarlette Hood.”
The words prove too juicy to ignore, with gasps filling the hallway as the other guests inadvertently expose themselves to be shameless eavesdroppers. In only a matter of minutes, I expect the news to be all over the Internet and reported by every news channel.
Ambassador Farouk, on the other hand, is beyond elated.
What an honor, Your Highness!
What a privilege you have bestowed on this humble household, to be the first to welcome and celebrate your engagement!
Long live the future queen of Sharasa!
And of course, this has Scarlette paling and stammering, her confusion and panic evident as she fumbles for something to say.
“Ambassador, please...it’s not...” She looks at me as if asking for help, and I only gaze back at her with a raised brow. Where she sees trouble, I only see the truth, with Scarlette’s reaction as an entertaining sideshow.
Scarlette turns back to the ambassador. “Sir, if you could...we’re hoping...privately—”
The older man chuckles. “You have a great sense of humor, Ms. Hood.”
“O-Oh?”
“His Highness is one of the world’s most eligible bachelors,” Ambassador Farouk says with a respectful toward my direction. “Any news about his engagement is sure to spread like wildfire.”
“I’m just, um, concerned for Sheikh Qahari’s sake,” Scarlette says weakly. “I don’t want people to, er, look down on him because of our engagement. That’s why, I was thinking, it’s better that only few people know—”
Ambassador Farouk beams at her. “How kind and humble you are, Ms. Hood.”
Scarlette turns red. “No, I’m not. At all.”
“Your humility is refreshing, Ms. Hood. Indeed, it is becoming quite clear why our esteemed prince has chosen you to be his bride.”
“I’m not yet—”
The ambassador chuckles again. “Ah, I finally understand.”
Scarlette sighs in relief. “I’m glad.”
“Everyone knows that royal engagements in Sharasa can only end with either a wedding or a beheading. And it will make a nice little joke, if you say that you are only marrying our prince to save your neck.”
Ambassador Farouk is still chuckling to himself when he finally takes his leave, and to my Scarlette’s credit, she has the patience and wisdom to wait until I have led her away from the rest of the crowd—
“You lied to me!”
—before whispering her words of accusation under her breath.
I gaze down at my Scarlette, with her cheeks flushed in emotion, and her eyes so full of trouble that she appears blind to the old-world grandeur of the ambassador’s estate.
Wealth and power is in full display all around her, and live strings play somewhere in the distance, which is yet another subtle demonstration of how my world operates quite differently from the rest.
This is but a taste of the kind of life I can give her as my future wife, but Scarlette sees none of it. All she cares about is what she perceives as my deception and betrayal, but is it, really?
“To accuse a member of the royal family is no light matter in our kingdom, habibti. I will let your earlier words go, in consideration of your emotional state. But I would also also advise you to think carefully before repeating such an accusation.”
“Are you threatening to me?” she demands shakily.
“Do I have any need to? Think back to all the conversations we had,” I say gently. “Have I truly said anything that would constitute as a lie?”
“But you let me think—”
“Oh, come now, habibti . I am a prince, not a god. You alone, and no one else, has control your thoughts.”
“Stop twisting my words—”
“Are you not the one doing that?” I ask her coolly. “I told you I wanted to marry you.”
“I know that, but—”
“You asked for an engagement. And I agreed. But I never said it would change anything, did I?”