St. Valentine was Contini’s winter capital, a city blessed with spectacular snow-capped mountains and flower fields that went as far as the eyes could see. Tourists abounded for as long as snow fell, and in the day, they would come skiing down any of St. Valentine’s majestic slopes, and once darkness ushered in they would take refuge in the hallowed halls of any of the tastefully opulent chateaus that lined the picture-perfect avenue of Rodestein. There, the sound of gaiety often rang well past the last hour of the night, with many guests delighting in post-dinner chats in front of the fireplace while enjoying toasted sweets and hot chocolate. Others danced the night away, swaying to the lilting notes played by classical quartets, which locals greatly preferred to any kind of modern-day music that involved screaming or head-banging.

Indeed, these were magical moments, but as soon as the snow melted, the crowds faded, and as spring turned into summer, a quiet would settle, and it was during this time of the year locals would have their beloved city to themselves.

Was it terribly selfish of her, Kyria wondered guiltily, to feel one with the locals and wish that it would always be like this?

Although now having reached the grand old age of twenty, Kyria was still unused to the massive crowds that winter brought to St. Valentine. She still much preferred the solitude of summer, with its fairly empty roads and how the air was mostly quiet save for the occasional chirping of birds. It reminded her of life back home, and although one could never actually be alone in the palace, the servants and guards there were so good at making themselves unobtrusive that she had never felt her privacy invaded.

Oh, how she missed Ramil. If there was anything that the almost two years she spent in St. Valentine had taught her, then it was that there truly was no place like home. And Ramil was home. It might not be her country of blood, but it was the kingdom of her heart, and she missed it, badly. No matter how beautiful St. Valentine was, it could never compare to what Ramil meant to her, and sometimes she wondered---

“Ms. Markides?”

Hearing her name called out by the interviewer had Kyria quickly standing up, all thoughts of her old life shelved for the meantime.

“It’s your turn.” The other woman flashed her a smile. “Good luck.”

Ninety minutes later and Kyria had become the preschool’s newest part-time teacher. It was only two hours a day, didn’t come with particularly high wages, but it was a start, and she was proud of it.

After cycling back to her fourth-floor studio apartment, Kyria quickly called home, wanting to share the good news with her family. She expected one of the staff to answer the phone, but instead---

“Malik Al-Atassi.”

Her eyes flew wide open. Malik? A conflicting mass of emotions detonated in her heart at the familiar, silky sound of his thickly accented voice.

“Marhava?”

The impatient way in which he said ‘hello’ had Kyria plunging back to reality. She thought of saying something, but all the words that rushed to her head were impossible for her to say.

I miss you. Did you miss me? I’m lonely without you. Are you lonely without me?

“Marhava?”

The coldly impatient tone made Kyria jump, and before she could consider what she was doing…

Click.

She had already done it.

Kyria stared at her phone in complete agony.

She had hung up on Malik like a kid.

Her shoulders slumped, and she slowly and deliberately banged her forehead against her desk.

Hail Kyria the idiot.

The thought of what she had done plagued her for the rest of the day and had Kyria tossing and turning for hours. By the time she woke up, her head was pounding, and it felt like she hadn’t slept at all. She trudged to the shower and as she shampooed her hair, she gradually convinced herself that she was overthinking things.

That call was nothing, and in the event that Malik had found out via caller ID that Kyria was the one who had called, well, she was sure he’d have thought nothing of it either. Or so she convinced herself, which was something she had gotten rather good at in the past two years.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, Kyria repeated to herself as she rubbed herself dry with a towel.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, Kyria mentally chanted as she brushed her teeth.

Nothing, Kyria anxiously told herself as she stared at her too-pale face in the mirror.

Nothing, nothing, nothing!

She grabbed her bag from her bedside table and hurried towards the door.

Nothing, nothing, nothing!

She threw the door open.

A tall, handsome dark-haired man stared at her, his lithe, powerful form covered in a long flowing white thobe.

Oh, Servant of God, she had reached her limit, hadn’t she? She was seeing things now, the Fates punishing her with hallucinations for the sheer immorality of her thoughts.

Made-up Malik gave her a brief, polite smile, but Kyria only scowled. Oh, you are so not going to fool me, you imaginary sheikh---

“Kyria?”

Her eyes widened.

It…spoke.

It…was real?

“Malik?” she whispered.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Tears of heaven, it really was him!

The realization made her pale and her body stiffen. A thousand things that she wanted to do raced in her mind, but none of them was appropriate. She wanted to jump for joy, throw her arms around him, kiss him---

Stop thinking crazy things, Kyria Markides!

Panic gripped her, her eyes flying to his in horror, but this turned out to be an even bigger mistake. Malik’s handsome face filled her vision, his sheer presence overwhelming her, and her mind…sort of…snapped.

Bang!

Kyria stared at her door in complete misery.

She had just shut the door on the sheikh’s face.

* * *

It was already well past lunch by the time Kyria mustered the courage to use her door’s peephole, but the sight of her empty hallway only resulted in mixed feelings. The sheikh was gone.

Her shoulders slumped.

Well, of course he was. Not only had she hung up on him yesterday – which she was now gloomily certain he was aware of – but she had also added insult to injury by slamming the door in his face. Honestly, with all of these, she wouldn’t be surprised at all to receive an email from the palace anytime about her citizenship being revoked.

For the rest of the day, Kyria waited and paced in anxious silence in the event that the sheikh were to call or visit. But neither happened, and before she could stop herself, she was already on the phone and making a call to the one person she knew who would always give it to her straight, albeit tactlessly.

“Well, hello there, prank caller.”

Kyria grimaced at the way the beloved Queen of Ramil seemed to take relish in speaking the words. “Very funny, Your Majesty,” she muttered. “I take it everyone knows?”

“That you hung up on Malik?” Harper asked cheerfully as she resumed walking down the hallway. “Absolutely. Have you two talked then?”

“Not…exactly.”

The queen blinked. “What does that exactly mean?”

She hesitated, knowing how Harper could be.

Sensing something juicy coming up, Harper said cajolingly, “Come on, Ky. Who else can you to talk to about these things?”

Well, that was true, but---

“Promise me first you won’t laugh,” she demanded.

Harper crossed her fingers behind her back as she entered the bedchamber she shared with the king. “Of course.”

Kyria took a deep breath. “He came here this morning, and I was so shocked that I kinda……slammed the door on his face?”

For one moment, there was silence---

And then the Queen of Ramil was gasping, laughing so hard she was literally gasping for breath.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Kyria protested.

“It’s y-your fault,” Harper managed to choke in between laughs as she sat on the edge of her bed.

“Calling you is an obvious waste of time,” Kyria muttered glumly.

“I have…tell…king.”

Her teeth gnashed as the queen continued laughing her head off. “You are not helping at all!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Harper wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and did her best to control herself. “But seriously, why in God’s name did you do those things in the first place? Did you forget we have caller ID?”

“Of course I didn’t.” Kyria threw herself on the couch in a fit of unrest. “I panicked at hearing his voice.”

The queen frowned. “But it’s not like you guys don’t talk.”

Kyria grimaced. Even the word ‘talk’ would be stretching it a bit when she recalled the stilted phone conversations that either Vanna or Altair had forced on her and the sheikh in the past two years.

Happy birthday, Kyria. I’m sorry I’m unable to visit you.

Merry Christmas, Malik. I’m sorry I’m unable to fly back home.

“Those were different,” she said finally. She had at least some semblance of time to prepare herself for those calls. It was the opposite with him answering the phone yesterday and the way he unexpectedly showed up on her doorstep this morning. Neither had given her any time at all to school her mind and heart…

Harper was still bewildered. “What do you mean different?”

“I wasn’t expecting to hear his voice yesterday. It made me want to say things, stupid things---”

Stupid things, the queen mentally translated, like probably how Kyria still couldn’t make up her mind on whether she saw Malik as a man or as a brother.

“And because they were stupid things,” Kyria continued glumly, “I panicked.”

Now Harper was beginning to understand. “That’s why you hung up.”

Kyria’s head hung low in shame. “Yes.”

“And so when you saw him this morning, you were, umm, thinking of stupid things again?”

“Yes.” The admission was uttered in a small voice.

“And so instead of doing any of those stupid things---” Harper was guessing those had to do with hugging and kissing. “You, umm, ended up panicking again and slamming the door in his face?”

“Yes.” And this time, the younger girl’s voice was even smaller.

“I…see.” Harper tried hard not to imagine the look on Malik’s face when his beloved Kyria shut the door on him, but it was impossible, and before she knew it she was already clutching her sides, lost in another bout of laughter.

“Harper!”

“Sorry…just…too…funny.”

She glared at the phone in disgust. “Call me when you’re done, and by the way---” Her voice turned sweet. “I’m charging this call on your account.”

The queen’s laugh abruptly stopped. “Hey!”

But Kyria had also hung up on her. Serves her right, she thought darkly. As Harper was now queen, the kingdom’s laws dictated that her every expense be settled from the royal coffers, and there was nothing the fiercely independent queen hated more than having to spend anyone else’s money but hers.

That took care of her little revenge, but there was still the matter of a certain sheikh.

Kyria stared at the phone in her hands. At the very least, she owed him an apology. But what if he asked why had she done all those things?

* * *

As Malik’s limousine joined the flow of vehicles rolling down one of St. Valentine’s busy avenues, the sheikh noticed his head of security glancing at him every once in a while through the rearview mirror---

Malik met Emmanuel’s gaze, and the older man swiftly averted his gaze. But a moment later, Emmanuel let out a heavy sigh, and his teeth gnashed. The older man had been doing that for a week now, ever since his rather unfortunate visit at Kyria’s apartment.

When they reached their destination, Emmanuel opened the door for the sheikh and as he stepped out, Malik looked at the older man, and his head of security looked back at him, his face completely expressionless.

“If you sigh one more time, I’ll have you sacked.”

“The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind, Your Highness.”

“She obviously doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore,” he stressed coldly.

“We are all entitled to think what we wish,” the older man answered politely.

“I’m not ignoring her calls to punish her.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“That would be juvenile.”

“Undoubtedly.” And the older man’s gaze bored through the sheikh, saying without words it was exactly what he thought of Malik.

The sheikh stalked inside the hotel lobby. Damn old man. He loathed how talking to Emmanuel always made him feel like he was a pathetic seventeen-year-old again. The man had been with Malik since he was seventeen, had seen the sheikh grow up, and as difficult as it was to admit, Malik also had a feeling Emmanuel knew exactly how he felt about his so-called sister.

As they took the elevator to the topmost floor, the sheikh noticed his bodyguard glancing at him again, and his temper flared. “Just say what you have to say, damn you.”

To the sheikh’s surprise, Emmanuel actually did. “Punishment is when the one doing the punishing can extract pleasure from the process. But when the one doing the punishing feels the same pain as the one being punished, then the exercise turns into unnecessary torture.”

Malik’s face turned expressionless. “A philosopher, are you now, Emmanuel?”

“All I’m suggesting is that you hear the lady out, Your Highness.”

“You make it sound like my life revolves around her,” the sheikh snapped.

As it does, Emmanuel thought, but he was saved from replying as the elevator doors opened to the hotel’s exclusive rooftop club. A quiet but palpable frenzy took over the crowd at the sight of the all-too-eligible sheikh, and Emmanuel had to temporarily set aside his meddling to act as the sheikh’s bodyguard. With the establishment’s in-house security clearing the way for them, Emmanuel and the sheikh were able to reach the VIP area without incident. The club’s owner, young Farica de Konigh, grinned and gave Malik a quick hug as soon as he reached her. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered feelingly. The club’s opening was extremely important to her. Tonight was make-or-break for her, and she needed all the help she could get to make sure its opening was a success.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, “but we both know I’m not doing this for free.”

“I do know,” Farica said laughingly, “But I’m thankful all the same.” She gestured to the stage. “Ready to make your speech?”

The crowd stirred as Malik stepped up to the podium. “Marhava.” The sheikh’s voice, deep and strong, was enough to have the women swooning, but combined as well with his foreign accent, devastatingly sexy smile, and urbane manners, none of them stood any chance at all. They became his slaves in an instant, hanging on to every word from the sheikh.

His speech was meant to be charmingly quick and to the point, the usual spiel that he did for thanking the guests who had paid an exorbitant amount of money simply for the right to say that they were able to “party” with Malik Al-Atassi.

That was the plan, but then he spotted a certain woman at the back of the crowd, her hair covered by a headdress and looking straight at him with an uncertain smile wobbling on her lips---

Kyria.

Emmanuel coughed loudly behind the sheikh, and Malik recovered from his shock. Dark color stained the sheikh’s sharply defined cheeks when he saw the way the crowd was staring at him, all of them no doubt wondering why he had suddenly stopped talking. Clearing his throat, Malik swiftly concluded the rest of his speech and as soon as Farica stepped in to take over, his head turned immediately towards Emmanuel. “Did you see her?” he demanded under his breath.

“Did I see who, Your Highness?”

“You know who I’m talking about.” He cast his bodyguard an impatient glance, knowing he was being baited. And unable to help it, he looked at the crowd again, and his heart slammed against his chest when he saw her still standing there. Aira. Fuck. He was a full-grown man, and here he was acting like a besotted fool.

Looking back at Emmanuel, he said tersely, “Get Kyria to my table.”

“To be clear, Your Highness – is this the same Kyria whom you say wishes to have nothing to do with you---”

“Emmanuel.” The bodyguard’s name came out in a warning growl.

The older man allowed himself a small smile. “Right away, Your Highness.”

Although it only took Farica less than a minute to end her own speech, Malik still had to struggle in curbing his impatience, and the moment his duties as the club’s VIP guest were completed, it was all he could do not to run people over in his desire to get to his table as swiftly as possible.

Heads turned wherever he went, but Malik didn’t even glance at any of the women blatantly inviting his attention. Despite the rather cool evening wind, most of them wore outfits that barely covered their bodies: tops that were either transparent or cropped, skirts and dresses that exposed the entire length of their legs and the under curve of their bottoms. A live DJ had started spinning music from one corner, its mix of fast-paced beat and alluring melody inducing the crowd to shed their inhibitions and obey the rising heat of their blood. Bodies began to twist and gyrate on the dance floor, skin against skin, butt against crotch. It was an intensely erotic scene, but it did nothing for Malik. He only had eyes for one woman---

Kyria.

The moment her name formed in his mind, Malik saw her own head jerk up as if she had felt his burning claim on her soul, and her gaze clashed with his. His glimpse of her last week had been too quick for it to matter, and seeing her in the crowd earlier wasn’t any better. This time, however, he had every opportunity to study her and he did so thoroughly, possessively.

Her headdress had fallen back, revealing the dark tresses of her hair. It was much shorter now, a messy, hand-combed bob that made her look even younger than her actual years, and she had on a white kimono-styled abaya with loose and flowing sleeves, its sides parted to reveal her black empire-styled dress. It was hell of a lot more conservative compared to what the other women in the club were wearing, but even so Malik felt like shrugging out of his jacket and covering up every inch of her. He didn't like the way the dress followed the curve of her breasts, didn’t like the way its cut emphasized her trim waist. But what he disliked most at all was how unreasonable he was being.

This was not the fucking way a brother should think of his sister.

In one final stride, the sheikh reached her. She came to her feet, an unsure smile still playing on her lips. “-“M-Marhava, Malik.” Her voice was a soft, breathy stammer, but it was still too damn sexy for his sake. It was like a kick in the guts, and his entire body clenched with lust.

This was…bad.

Fucking bad.

But because they were in public, they had to continue with the charade.

“Marhava, Kyria.” However they felt about each other, one thing Malik was certain they’d always be in agreement on was to never do anything that could cause talk about the royal family. And because he could feel everyone staring at them---

The sheikh’s head bent, and she raised her cheek. His lips brushed against her skin, and his scent wrapped around her. The contact was fleeting, but it was enough to have his fists clench and her eyes close, both of them for one tantalizingly forbidden moment succumbing to the temptation of imagining where else his lips could go, what else she would yield, and oh, how exquisitely good it would feel to just…let go.

The moment passed, reality returned once again, and they pulled away. Their gazes met anew, his handsome face expressionless and her elegant features composed.

“Shall we sit?” He waited until she was seated on the couch before taking up space next to her. This close, her body was even a greater temptation, her scent an intoxicating drug. He saw her start wringing her hands on her lap, and to ease her nervousness, he said gruffly, “I didn’t know you frequent places like this.”

“Actually, I d-don’t. I was talking to Harper earlier, and she mentioned that you were still in St. Valentine because of tonight’s club opening.”

“I see.” His tone was polite.

Her eyes widened. “You do?”

“That our queen is big-mouthed as ever?” He let his own eyes widen slightly. “Absolutely.”

She burst into laughter, and when she looked at him, her eyes were bright and shining with gratitude. It was just how she used to look at him when she was young, and he had to rescue her from this or that kind of trouble.

That look used to make him feel protective.

Now it just made him want to take her to bed.

His eyes closed.

I’m fucked for the rest of my life.

“Malik?”

Her concerned tone made him look at her, and just like that, he knew.

“Is…everything okay?”

Uncertainty still lurked in her eyes, and this made his mind up for him. Having her next to him might mean that he’d be fucked for the rest of his life…but he was fine with that. Anything was fine as long as he kept Kyria in his life.

Forcing himself to relax, he ignored all the things his instincts were clamoring for---

Kiss her. Touch her. Fuck her.

--- and instead ruffled her hair, just like a damn brother would.

“Nothing to worry about, I promise.”

She bit her lip. “But there are things we should talk about, shouldn’t we?”

“There is,” the sheikh said simply, and when Kyria slowly nodded, he knew she understood and remembered one of the first lessons palace life had taught them. Private matters may only be spoken in equally private places, and St. Valentine’s newest and hottest club definitely wasn’t one of those.

It was already a few minutes past one in the morning by the time Malik and Kyria left the club and said their goodbyes to a deeply grateful and still visibly euphoric Farica. When they reached the lobby, Kyria suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at him. “Malik?”

“Mm?”

“May I sleep at your place tonight?”

His heart banged against his chest. “Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Of course.”

Her smile of relief was a sweet sight. An ordinary brother would probably find it cute, but it just made Malik want to---

Kiss her. Touch her. Fuck her.

“I promise I won’t be any trouble,” Kyria was saying. Her smile turned sheepish, and then she said shyly, “I just…missed you.”

The sheikh forced a smile even as his entire body clenched with desire. “It is the same with me, Ky. I missed you a lot, too---”

His words broke off as Kyria threw herself at him, her arms winding around his neck in what seemed like an impulsive embrace. “I’m so glad…” Her voice was muffled with her face against the crook of his neck. “I have you back in my life.”

His arms went around her, and the sheikh said gruffly, “So am I.” And he still meant this, regardless of the consequences.

While waiting for Kyria to return from the powder room at the lobby, the sheikh caught sight of Emmanuel’s too-stoic look and felt defensive. “What?”

“I haven’t said a word, Your Highness.”

“It’s going to be fine,” he snapped. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Of course.”

He glared at his bodyguard. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said tersely, “and I’m telling you, nothing will happen.”

“Isaiah 55:8,” the bodyguard said rather piously. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my---”

“Making a dig at me using the Bible, old man?” The sheikh’s fulminating gaze was filled with distaste. “Don’t you think that’s beneath you---”

Kyria rejoined them then, asking curiously, “What’s beneath Emmanuel?”

After shooting a threatening look at Emmanuel, he turned to Kyria, saying smoothly, “Nothing to concern you. Ready to go, Ky?”

For the rest of the ride, the sheikh peppered Kyria with questions about her life in St. Valentine, which she happily answered. Although Altair and Vanna had also filled him in about this in the past years, it was different when hearing the words from Kyria herself. His family had told him that Kyria had remained as uninterested in dating as she had been when living in the palace, and now Malik could see it was true. She seemed content enough when talking of her life in Contini, but her eyes only glowed when she talked about her life back home…and him.

* * *

Upon reaching the hotel where Malik was currently checked in, Emmanuel bid them goodnight and then it was just Kyria and the sheikh. Unlike their ride back, which had been filled by laughter and conversation, their walk to his suite was quiet. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either, and it was beginning to dawn on Kyria that she might have been a little too…impulsive?

Her eyes squeezed shut in despair. Sweet heavens, had she really asked the sheikh if she could sleep at his place tonight? She had only asked it because she had wanted to talk to him in private, but now that she had more time to think about it, the more it seemed like a bad idea---

“Kyria, wait---”

She looked up, but it was too late, and she ended up walking straight into a door and nearly knocking herself out.

“Owww!” Straightening, she rubbed her forehead and looked up at the sheikh. His handsome face was expressionless, but the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. “Go ahead,” she said dourly. “You can laugh.”

“You know I won’t do that.” His voice was gentle, but the amusement in his eyes was gleaming even more brightly, and at that moment he looked too adorably handsome for words---

Her head snapped back just as her heart threatened to leap out of her chest.

Oh, Gates of Heaven, it was just as she feared.

From the corner of her eye, Kyria noticed the sheikh frown and knew he had felt her sudden tension. She wished she could apologize, but she also knew that was impossible. Right now, even the mere thought of looking at him in the eye was too much to contemplate.

Inside his suite, which was as vast and luxurious as one would expect, the sheikh gave her a swift tour: an open-layout living room, a shared balcony for the living room and the master’s, a library, and finally the spare bedroom where she would stay.

“Will it do for you?” Standing by the doorway, the sheikh began to unknot his tie as he spoke---

It was too sexy, just too much of everything, and everything that Kyria had fought so hard to suppress in the club surged to the fore.

Her knees started to quake.

“Kyria?” The sheikh raised a brow at her as he whipped his tie off.

Oh God.

She smiled brightly at him. “Everything’s alright.” And then she slammed the door in his face.

Again.

Her hands flew to her mouth in dismay.

Oh dear.

This was…this was very, very bad.

Outside the hallway, the sheikh stared stoically at the door that had been slammed shut in his face. Twice, he thought grimly. This had only happened twice in his life, and in both instances Kyria had been the instigator.

He had thought – and foolishly so, as it seemed now – that things could still change between them. He had thought that things could go back to the way they used to. But now he knew.

“Kyria?”

Inside the room, Kyria literally shuddered at the too-soft voice of the sheikh, knowing from experience that it was not a good sign. Gulping hard, she whispered, “Y-yes, Malik?”

“If you don’t open this door in three seconds, I’ll take it as a sign that you wish nothing to do with me.”

Her face paled.

“And if so, I shall never show my face to you again.”

Her hands fell to her sides.

Three…

Two…

She threw the door open, crying out, “It’s all your fault!”

The sheikh only stared at her, unflinching and too painfully handsome for her heart to take.

“All y-your fault!” Her tone was violent, but her eyes were shimmering with tears, and the sight of it killed whatever hope he had left of keeping her in his life. He knew how much Kyria hated to cry, and for her to be on the brink of tears now…

Two years, he thought bleakly. He had fooled himself for two goddamn years, but now it was time to face the truth. The thought made him feel weary, and far, far older than his thirty-one years. Looking at Kyria, he said tonelessly, “I’m sorry.”

The sound of his voice made Kyria swallow back a sob. “I wasn’t asking you to say sorry.”

“I know. But it’s all I can say. I’m sorry that morning happened.”

“Your s-sorry is not enough---”

“Then what do you want?” he demanded bitterly. “To punish me for something I couldn’t help?” Tears started running down her face, but it was different this time. “What do you want, damn you?” The sight of her crying made him want to explode, made him want to beat something up until the impotent rage inside of him was completely spent---

Kyria was crying harder, but it only fed his rage. “Say it!”

She started shaking her head. “I c-can’t---”

“Say it, damn you,” he raged. “Just say it---” Because that was the only way for things to end between them. He needed her to tell him to get out of her life, needed her---

“I just want it to stop, okay?” she choked out.

Her head lifted, her red-rimmed eyes clashing with his, begging for something he dared not think of.

“Since that morning,” Kyria wept, “I’ve become so weird, and I just can’t change it.”

The sheikh slowly shook his head. “Kyria---”

“No!” And to his surprise, Kyria started to babble. “You have to listen. Listen until the end! You have to understand how much things have changed since that morning. I hear your voice, and I panic---”

Malik stiffened.

“I see your face, and I panic---”

And there was that word again, he thought grimly. “Are you panicking at the thought that it would happen---”

“Oh, Malik.” She let out a laugh that sounded crazy even to her own ears. “Don’t you get it? Do you really need me to spell it out loud?” Her lips curved in a smile that pierced his chest. “I’m panicking because that morning changed e-everything, and when I’m n-not mentally prepared to see you, or even hear you, I can’t help but think of things---” Her arms wrapped around herself as her voice lowered to a shamed whisper. “Weird things.”

Malik could only stare at her. “But at the club---”

“That was different,” she said miserably. “There were people around. We weren’t alone. And I…I saw you first before you saw me so I had time to prepare. But the other times and even just now, when I saw you taking off your tie---”

“My tie?” he echoed blankly.

“It made me think of really weird things.” And again, her whispered words were ridden with guilt. “Things that a s-sister---” Her voice came to a choking stop. “A sister should never think of her brother.”

Ah.

Their eyes collided, hers still wet with tears that flowed endlessly down her face, while his---

Kyria’s lips parted in bemusement, and her heart started to ache and race at the same time.

Why?

Why was it---

Why was he looking at her like he wanted…to do the same weird things with her?

“Kyria.” The sheikh’s tone was grave and hoarse, and the light in his beautiful dark eyes glittered like diamonds wrapped in midnight.

“Come here.”

Said the flame to the moth, lion to the lamb, Kyria thought hysterically. And now, it was Malik to Kyria---

But even knowing this, she found herself taking that one small step---

Her feet crossed the doorway of her bedroom, and his arms closed about her.

He had hugged her earlier, but this…was different.

This was…a man’s embrace.

Her body stiffened with shock, but instead of letting her go, the sheikh only pulled her closer, every inch of his hardness now pressed against every soft, pliant curve of her body.

Fire engulfed her senses, and she squeezed her shut, her body trembling at the sheer effort she had to expend to swallow back the whimpers that filled her throat.

“You know those weird things you’re talking about…” His lips touched her hair, just a few inches above her ears. “They have another name.”

His mouth moved down, and even as she started to tremble, and her fingers started to curl into fists against his chest---

His mouth continued to move, all the way down, until it reached her ear, and Kyria could no longer hold back---

“It’s called sexual attraction.”

A whimper escaped her lips.

“And I feel it, too.”

Her fingers, which should have pushed him away, clutched his shirt instead.

“I’ve felt it far longer than I should.”

* * *

Moonlight glided into the room from below the billowing curtains, its silver light softening the harsh perfection of the sheikh’s face. He was lying on his side, fully clothed, head propped up by his arm while he played idly with the short, loose strands of her hair.

Kyria, too, lay on her side facing him, her wide-eyed gaze resting on his. She was freshly showered, her body now sheathed in a cotton nightdress but hidden under covers that she had pulled all the way up to her neck.

The sight was a strange mix of adorable and poignant, and the sheikh said solemnly, “You look like you’re scared I’m about to eat you.”

Her cheeks turned rosy with color. “Malik!” Her tone was faintly chiding but mostly breathless, and her cheeks turned redder when the sheikh smirked. “S-stop it.”

“Stop what?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know I’m not used to hearing you say such words.”

“Yes, I do know.” His lips twitched. “But do you really think that’s going to stop me?” He expected her to make a face or something similar to express her chagrin, but instead Kyria directed a look at him that could only be described as shy and uncertain, and Malik frowned. “What is it?”

“Do you…” She swallowed hard. “Do you really like me that way?”

“Yes.” His voice was grave. “I do really like you that way.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Kyria’s lips at the way he repeated her every word, but even so she insisted, “I’m being serious.”

“As I am.” And he tugged the locks of her hair with each word for emphasis.

“Honest?”

It was the sheikh’s turn to roll his eyes. “Why do you find it so hard to believe?”

“How can I not?” She was just as incredulous as he was. “You’re Malik Al-Atassi! You can have any woman.”

“And so can you,” Malik retorted. “You can have any man---”

“No, I can’t.” Kyria’s tone was faintly exasperated. He was always, always like this. He always made it seem like she was the most beautiful girl on the planet, even though they both knew she was not. She was plain, really, and in the times he had forbidden her to attend occasions where she might ‘attract the wrong sort of men’, Kyria herself would point this out. I know I’m not ugly, but I’m no beauty either. I won’t attract any sort of men!

And every time, Malik would only look at her like she was crazy for thinking so---

Just as he was doing now, Kyria thought helplessly.

“Malik…look at me.”

“I am.”

“Really look at me,” she insisted.

Malik’s gaze became perplexed. “I have been looking at you for almost half of my life, Ky.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but Kyria steadfastly refused to let his words get to her head. “I’m not beautiful. I’m not even talented like Harper. I’m just ordinary, so how can you like someone like me?”

Malik frowned. “Why do you keep saying these things? You are beautiful.” And the way he was looking at her, she could almost, almost believe it herself. “And more than that, you’re perfect.”

“Oh, Malik.” She could see it in his eyes. He meant every word. But how could he? “What if---” She swallowed past a lump on her throat, whispering, “What if you were just used to having me around and---ah!”

In a blink of an eye, the sheikh had rolled her to her back, and he was suddenly above her, the weight of his body bearing down on hers.

“If anyone has reason to be worried about this not being what it is,” the sheikh said broodingly, “it should be me.”

“Why?” Kyria was genuinely confused.

“Because you’re young,” he said grimly. “You’ve barely started your life, and there’s every chance you could still meet someone else---” But Kyria was already shaking her head even before he finished speaking, and the sheikh’s words broke off.

“Do you think I didn’t try?” she whispered. “It was one of my most important goals in the past two years, Malik. But just the thought alone of going out on a date with another guy made my skin crawl---” She stopped speaking when she saw his eyes squeeze shut at her words. “Malik?” Her tone was quietly anxious. “What is it?” Had she said something wrong?

Malik lowered his head to her shoulder. He had always wondered if she had ever been attracted to any other man, had always wondered how he would feel if he learned that there was someone else. And now she was telling her there wasn’t a single fucking one---

“You shouldn’t have said that,” he said roughly.

Oh, she knew it! She had said something wrong, and she wondered dismally if telling the sheikh about how she felt about other men had made him feel guilty or pressured. Raising a trembling hand, Kyria threaded his fingers through his silky hair, whispering, “I’m sorry, Malik.”

“As I am.” His head lifted. “Because I had promised myself to give you time and space…”

Her eyes flew wide open at the savage look in his eyes. That was definitely not the look of a man who was guilty or pressured. Rather, that was the look of a man who wanted…her.

“I wanted to give you a chance to think this through,” Malik growled. “But after what you said---” The sheikh gripped her by the hair. “Fuck that.”

His mouth covered hers.

And the weird things that she used to have fantasies and nightmares about…became reality.

Her eyelids swept closed.

Their first kiss.

His lips prodded hers to open, and her arms went up to wrap around his neck just as his tongue slid inside her mouth.

“Kyria.” Her name on his lips was a rough rasp, but it was also the most sweetly arousing sound, and she found herself arching against him with a moan.

“Aira.” Fuck.

The kiss deepened, and he began sucking on her tongue hard. She gasped for breath, but he only let up for the last second, leaving her to stare up at him dazedly while the erotic sound of their panting filled his room.

“More?” he asked hoarsely.

Oh.

Her heart ached when she realized that he was deliberately controlling himself, fearful of frightening or overwhelming her.

She gave him a small nod.

“More.”

And his mouth went back to hers, the kiss even rougher and hungrier this time, and her body began to writhe under his. Her nails raked his back, her legs snaking restlessly against his muscular thighs.

“More.”

His hands slid between their bodies, his fingers swiftly reaching for the hem of her nightdress before whipping it out of the way.

“More.” The word coming out a whimper just as he found the front clasp of her bra---

“More.” She found herself begging him, desire shredding her inhibitions into pieces until all she could do was breathe and pant for his touch.

Her bra fell to the floor, followed by her panties, but before her passion-clouded mind could take in her sudden nakedness, his mouth had latched on to her nipple and thinking once again became an impossible feat.

Her fingers clutched his shoulders as he squeezed her breasts while suckling harder on her nipples.

Her head fell back.

His mouth moved down.

“Malik…”

And this time, she no longer cared whether the name she was calling out belonged to a man who was her brother in other people’s eyes.

“Malik…”

His mouth found that tiny sensitive flesh hidden under her folds.

And once again, he began to suck.

Her body arched.

“Malik!” A scream. “Oh, Malik.” A shuddering moan. “More.” And lastly, a choked whimper as his mouth destroyed her from below, and her body began to thrash in wild abandon. Orgasm struck like a tidal wave, and all she could do was moan and hold on to him as pleasure threatened to sweep her away.

Later, much, much later, Kyria was only drowsily aware as Malik lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the tub. He washed her with such brisk but gentle efficiency that it was already over before she had enough functioning brain cells to feel embarrassed about the entire process.

When they returned to the bedroom, her last thought was that it wasn’t her room that they had returned to but theirs. She wanted to protest. She tried to protest. But then Malik was kissing her so expertly, and the timbre of his voice so wonderfully soothing as he told her to sleep…

Her eyelids drifted shut.

Tomorrow, Kyria thought sleepily. Tomorrow was soon enough for them to talk, and she would tell him that they should take things slowly.

Tomorrow.

But when tomorrow came, the exact opposite happened.

Kyria stirred into consciousness as the steady sound of knocking slowly penetrated her mind. She stretched and twisted in her bed, thinking that it felt a lot bigger---

Oh!

She shot up to a sitting position, and her worst fears were confirmed. She was still in the sheikh’s bedroom, and someone was knocking on the door---

“Good. You’re awake.” Malik came out of the en-suite shower, a white towel wrapped low on his hips, droplets of water still dripping from his hair and down to his glistening body.

Her throat dried at the sight, and the sheikh stopped walking when he saw Kyria staring.

Beautiful.

It was the only word Kyria could think of. Every inch of Malik Al-Atassi was beautiful.

The gleaming ebony shade of his hair, the exotic darkness of his eyes, the chiseled perfection of his face---

Beautiful.

All the way down to the imposing breadth of his shoulders, the muscular expanse of his chest, and his ripped abs---

Beautiful.

And then there was that prominent and distinctly growing bulge under his towel---

Oh!

The sight of his arousal shocked her back into reality, and her gaze flew up to him. “Malik.” Her tone was faint. “Your---” She couldn’t make herself say the words and simply waved in the area of his arousal.

But the sheikh only smirked when he saw what she was gesturing at. “My what?”

“Malik, be serious---” Another polite rap on the door interrupted her, and she turned white at the sound. “There’s someone at the door.”

“As there should be,” he said complacently. “I ordered breakfast for the two of us.”

“What?” Kyria was aghast.

He raised a brow. “Don’t you want to have breakfast with me?”

“Of course I do, but---” She threw him a helpless look. “Should I hide then?”

“Why should you?” The sheikh then crossed the remaining length of the room, and Kyria found herself holding her breath. Her senses swam, further and further away from her, that by the time he reached her, she was lost.

Nothing else mattered except…him.

Her sheikh.

Malik.

He sat on the edge, and the bed dipped under his weight. Her body swayed at the movement of the bed, and she suddenly felt herself pressed against his hot, wet skin.

Kyria bit back a cry.

His fingers cupped her chin. “What do you want me to do, Ky?” His hand moved, fingers threading through the sleep-tousled locks of her hair. “Do I hide you…or do I let the world know you’re mine?”

Ooooh.

“I only want to take it slow,” she confessed haltingly, “for your sake.”

The sheikh’s lips curved in a smile. “Is that so?”

She nodded.

“And if I say I don’t want to take it slow at all because it’s all I’ve been doing for the past four years?”

A gasp escaped her.

“What then?” The sheikh’s voice became taut. “Do we still take it slow?” His fingers moved down to curve around her nape. “You should know by now, Ky.” And his head started inching closer, and her heart started thudding harder against her chest.

“I will only always do what you want.”

She gulped. Oh no, oh dear heavens, no…

“So tell me…”

His eyes captured hers, and the look in the sheikh’s eyes told her exactly what he wanted.

Kiss her. Touch her. Fuck her.

“What do you want?”

Him, she thought dizzily. She wanted him.

But because that look in his eyes was too much, and all of this was still new---

KICK.

The sheikh grunted as he fell to the carpet, completely taken by surprise by Kyria’s reaction.

A horrified moan escaped her.

She had just kicked the sheikh out of his own bed.

To raise a hand against any member of the royal family was punishable by death, but more than that, it was the most shameful of all offenses for any person who considered himself loyal to the kingdom.

Kyria jumped off the bed and sank to her knees, head down. “I’m so sorry!” This was the end. She just knew it. She had hung up on him, slammed the door on him, slapped him, and now she had actually kicked him!

And yet…

Her head lifted at the strange, puzzling sound of the sheikh’s laughter, and Kyria was even more bemused when she saw Malik rising to his feet, a grin on his handsome face. Had she…kicked him so hard he had lost his mind?

He took her hand. “Up you go, milady…”

Kyria allowed the sheikh to pull her up to her feet. “You’re n-not mad?”

He shook his head. “Never with you.” His tone was gentle. “Remember?”

Her eyes teared. “Even though I kicked you?”

“Even then.”

“And I slapped you and slammed the door on your face---”

Wincing, he cut her off hastily, saying, “No matter what you do.” And while he did mean that, Malik would rather not have Kyria list her transgressions. If she did, it only made things seem more impossible between them, and he would rather not think about that.

Right now, and after all those goddamn years of holding himself back---

Kyria impulsively threw herself at him. “Oh, Malik.” And again, her voice was muffled with her face pressed to his shoulder. She was never the impulsively affectionate type with anyone, and even with Altair and Vanna, the smallest part of her had always held herself back, in the event that either of them would realize they didn’t actually love her---

But Malik was different.

With Malik, she had always been sure.

He would always love her, would never leave her.

She had known that even as a child, and now it made Kyria wonder…if even then she had known---

“Malik.”

His whispered name, underlined by worry and uncertainty, made the sheikh pull back so he could look into her eyes.

“If I tell you,” she said unevenly, “that I might have unconsciously known, even as a child, you could never be just a brother to me…” She swallowed hard. “Would you think I’m crazy?”

He slowly shook his head.

“Why?”

“Because it was the same for me,” he said simply.

Oh. Kyria laid her face against his chest again and hugged him tightly. “I’m happy. Really happy, but is it bad that a part of me feels like it’s waiting for me to wake up and realize it’s all a dream?”

“It’s not bad. Rather, it’s entirely natural.”

“Is it?” She began rubbing her face unconsciously against his chest like a kitten.

“It is.” He wondered tautly if she realized that other parts of her anatomy were starting to rub against his body as well.

“I just wish…” Her body stilled, and the sheikh was torn between relief and disappointment when all of her rubbing parts came to a stop as well.

She looked up at him, her eyes innocently questioning. “Do you think there’s something that I could do to make this feel…”

“More real?”

Kyria nodded.

His lips slowly curved.

Uh oh.

“As a matter of fact, anisdi---”

That smile of his was positively devilish, and she gulped. “Umm---”

“I know exactly what we can do.”

Alarm bells started to ring inside of her head. “I don’t think---”

The sheikh placed a finger on her lips.

Oh!

“Trust me, shaqifa.” The last word meant ‘little sister.’ A word that Altair and even the other sheikhs used when talking to her, she thought dazedly, but never him.

And now she knew why.

With the others, the word sounded exactly the way it was meant to. But when it was Malik calling Kyria his ‘little sister,’ it sounded like the dirtiest word in the planet---

Oh, how she liked it that way.

And so did he.

This was going to be bad, Kyria thought, gulping. Trepidation, fear, and a forbidden kind of thrill started unfurling inside of her stomach.

Really, really bad---

And so it was.

Breakfast was served at the balcony of the sheikh’s suite, with Malik already seated at the head of the table when she stepped out to join him. Two maids in uniform were also present, with one setting the table while another was busy preparing their drinks. Unlike Khalil, who preferred to travel with a minimum-sized staff, Malik preferred to surround himself with locals, and so upon seeing her, the maids – who knew Kyria back from when she was a child – smiled cheerfully and greeted her with a sense of familiarity.

“Sabah alkhayr, anisdi.” Good morning, milady.

The sheikh glanced up at their words, and Kyria tried not to act self-conscious as she felt his gaze on him. “Sabah alkhayr, Dima, Fatima.” She managed a smile for the two as she made her way to the table. In the corner of her eye, she noticed the sheikh nodding at the maids in dismissal, and the two quickly bowed before hurrying out of the balcony.

Pausing in front of the chair adjacent to his, Kyria took a deep breath.

Act normal, Kyria Markides.

She slowly raised her gaze, and at the exact same moment his fingers wrapped around her wrist.

Ah!

One tug, and she fell into his lap.

Her head jerked up, and his beautiful face filled Kyria’s vision.

Oh!

It was still too much, and her hand went flying up before she could stop himself. Thankfully, it was also exactly what the sheikh predicted, and so even as his broad shoulders rocked with silent mirth, he was able to readily capture her other wrist before it could connect with the side of his face.

“You are quite the sadist, Ky,” the sheikh drawled.

Kyria’s face turned red.

“And surprisingly, it’s also quite the turn-on---”

Her face turned even redder. “Malik!” She squirmed on his lap, trying to get away, but this only made the sheikh grin.

“Relax,” he crooned.

“L-like I can!” She struggled harder to get out of his hold, but his fingers around her wrists were like manacles.

“I’m only doing this so that you’d get used to me.” The sheikh spoke like he was the voice of reason; the gleam in his eyes, however, was anything but. It was the very definition of devilry, and oh---

Would it be a sin if that look in his eyes thrilled rather than terrified her?

“This is bad, Malik,” Kyria said in a small voice.

“It is.” His lips curved in a sinfully beautiful smile. “And that’s how we want it, don’t we?”

Her heart slammed against her chest.

His head started to lower.

Oh no.

His lips, now an inch away from hers, started to move. “Kiss me,” the sheikh whispered.

Oh, oh, no.

But her eyes still closed, her face lifting to his, and their lips touched.

Oh yes.

The kiss was heartbreakingly tender at the first second, but then his tongue slipped in, and their kiss turned hot and fierce in an instant. His hands let go of hers to hold her by the waist and haul her close, and instead of pushing him away Kyria’s arms went around his neck while her legs wrapped around his waist. The new position had the sheikh groaning her name out loud, and the sound demolished what little sense she had left.

She moaned against his lips, a silent plea for more of the pleasure that she knew only the sheikh could give her.

“Kyria, fuck…”

The sheikh’s hands moved down to her hips, and gripping them hard, he began moving her up and down his engorged cock.

Arousal and disbelief warred inside of her, and fighting hard to cling to her sanity, she tried to get up, stammering, “We’re o-outside---”

“It’s fine,” the sheikh rasped. “This whole area is covered by my security.” And with that, his hands tightened around her hips, and even as Kyria let out a small sound of protest, he was still making her move, grinding her pussy down on his cock. His ridged erection rubbed against her folds, faster and harder, driving her mad, making her want more of the pressure---

Sweet heavens, she wanted more.

More.

MORE!

The sheikh’s fingers disappeared under the loose folds of her robe, and everything else ceased to matter. His fingers found her already wet panties, and she gasped his name. Their gazes clashed as his fingers slipped under the drenched fabric---

“I’m going to make my little sister come,” he whispered.

Such dirty, dirty words, words no prince like him should say, but oh---

A whimper escaped Kyria as a sensual shudder racked her body.

One finger thrust inside of her, and her eyes rolled back.

“M-Malik---”

He pulled his finger out and shoved it back, harder, and another shudder tore through her body, her breasts swelling painfully against her bra.

And then he was doing it rhythmically, his finger thrusting in and out of her---

Malik, finger-fucking her, his little sister---

The thought made her stiffen, her fingers clutching his shoulders hard. “Malik---”

It was all she could manage to say, the sensations rocking her body too much, but it was enough. He knew exactly what she was asking for.

“Come for me, shaqifa.”

A cry escaped Kyria, and as his finger pushed deep into her one last time, her body tumbled into a maelstrom of pleasure, a place where right or wrong didn’t matter, and only the most forbidden feelings existed.

Forty-five minutes later, and the maids were back at the balcony, the two older women expressionless as they cleared the table. The sheikh was still seated at the head of the table, his handsome features relaxed, and his posture one of indolent satisfaction. Simply put, he looked like a man who just had a taste of nirvana---

And at that moment, said nirvana was red-faced while trapped on his lap.

“Malik, this is crazy,” she said helplessly under her breath on her nth failed attempt to get herself released. “Didn’t I say we should take it slow?”

“That you did,” the sheikh purred. “But I don’t recall agreeing to it. Do you?”

She tried to answer, intending to tell him he had unfairly tricked her on that score, but as soon as she opened her mouth he had covered it with his, and her body stiffened. Dimly, she heard the maids politely excusing themselves, and though her cheeks heated at the thought of how lewd a picture she and the sheikh made---

It was too late.

His kiss, as always, robbed her of logic, and by the time he lifted his mouth she could only look up at him, a slave to his touch.

“Do you regret this, Ky?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “No.” Even though things seemed to be moving faster than it should be – faster than she felt comfortable with even – she meant it. Swallowing hard, she asked, “Do you regret this?”

His eyes bored through hers. “What do you think?”

An uncertain smile touched her lips. “I guess…not?”

“Fuck guessing,” the sheikh said, and a little laugh escaped her, the sound fading only as Malik clasped her face with both hands. “I will never regret this.”

“Same here,” Kyria whispered.

They looked at each other, both believing that they spoke the truth.

But it wasn’t so.

* * *

For the rest of the week, Malik and Kyria didn’t even take one step out of his suite, with the sheikh determined to “train” her into being accustomed to his presence. Basically, it involved Kyria needing to stick close to the sheikh whenever and wherever. For the most part, it also inevitably involved slaps, kicks, and punches.

On the second day of her stay, the sheikh had brought his local managers to his suite’s private library only to find Kyria already occupying the room. She was standing in front of the bookshelves, perusing a particular novel, and she had looked up in surprise when they entered the room. She tried to excuse herself seeing that they were about to have a meeting, but the sheikh, who was leaning idly against his desk, only shook his head and motioned for her to come forward.

“Mr. Carter, please proceed with your report.” As he spoke, the sheikh drew Kyria close, her back against his chest, and one arm wrapped around her waist in a casually possessive gesture. His chin settled on top of her head, the sheikh turned to the now-gaping Mr. Carter.

“Go on, Carter. You were saying about our stock prices?”

Mr. Carter hastily resumed his report, nervous but reluctantly fascinated at how the notoriously aloof sheikh was being so openly affectionate with his mother’s ward. Meanwhile, Kyria did her best not to squirm in the sheikh’s hold, reminding herself over and over that this was ‘purposeful embarrassment’ in action.

You can handle this, Kyria Markides. You must. You will---

The arm around her waist moved slightly, the sheikh’s hard muscles now pressing against the undersides of her breasts.

Oh!

Kyria whirled around unthinkingly.

SLAP!

The second manager broke off, everyone turning pale at the tense silence that followed.

The sheikh stared down at Kyria.

“I…saw…a…fly on your face?”

The managers’ jaws dropped. How could the young woman see a fly when she had her back to the sheikh?

Malik slowly smiled. “Then I guess I should thank you.”

The managers wondered if they were going crazy. Had the sheikh truly fallen for such a flimsy excuse?

And this was just the start. More similar incidents followed, and eventually the staff became used to the violent hilarity of the encounters between the sheikh and Kyria. He would come up to her from behind to steal a kiss, and she would end up nearly poking him in the eye. He would wait to catch her unawares so he could sweep her off her feet, and she would end up almost stabbing him in the chest with her pen. To any stranger, any of these incidents would be more than enough reason to send for the authorities, but then they would see the way the sheikh and the young woman looked at each other, hear the way they spoke to each other---

Let sleeping dogs lie, the staff would think to themselves with a fatalistic shrug.

Although the days remained eminently stressful for Kyria, the nights were very much the opposite, although this was much to her secret shame. There were also new lessons to learn, but they were of a different kind – a secret, pleasurable kind, and one that she always helplessly ended up begging more of. In the following nights, he had taught her how to surrender to his touch, showed her the beauty in giving in to his mastery and letting him take complete control of her the moment they were in his bedroom.

Stand straight and let your breasts thrust out. Cup them. Feed me like you know I’m starving for the taste of you.

Such were his commands, but even though they made Kyria blush all over and her toes curl, she couldn’t help obeying him. It wasn’t just because she knew that he would reward her with pleasure. Mostly, it was also because of how he looked at her, of how he touched her and made her feel. In his eyes, she was a beautiful, irresistible siren, the only woman capable of driving him wild. She had always hated how small her breasts were, but the way Malik could feast on them for hours eventually got rid of all her insecurities. She used to hate being so petite, but eventually these doubts also whittled away, with Malik often groaning how he loved how her size allowed him to pleasure her in even the smallest and tightest of corners.

Of course, Malik also taught Kyria how to pleasure him, and for these lessons she was quite the eager pupil. No sound was as sweet as hearing Malik’s hoarse, rough growls as she stroked and sucked on his cock, and there was nothing more arousing than the knowledge that she, Kyria, was the one to give him such pleasure.

And after, in a mutual state of exhaustion in which they would either lounge in his enormous tub or on the bed, with Kyria resting atop his powerful frame, they would just…talk. The first night, they had spoken of Katerina. Rather, the sheikh had been the one to bring her up, and Kyria had bolted up, clutching the sheets to her naked body. Somehow, hearing the other girl’s name made her feel tense and vulnerable, paranoid and defensive, and she hated it.

Swallowing hard, she said haltingly, “If you’re about to tell me you’re in love with her---”

The sheikh abruptly sat up at her words, a stunned expression falling on his handsome face. “Hell no!”

Kyria bit her lip. “I wish I can believe you.”

“Nothing ever happened between us.” The sheikh exhaled in frustration. “I’m not lying. I know it may have seemed that way, and I admit that I had entertained the idea of hooking up---” When the sheikh felt Kyria stiffen, his arms instantly tightened around her. “It was an idea brought by desperation,” Malik said forcefully. “That’s all. But nothing came out of it. She was always in love with her ex, and in fact she’s gotten back together with him. I’ve partnered with him in business, and Himura’s the only reason that I occasionally hear from her.”

“But you went to visit her in Tokyo,” Kyria mumbled under her breath. Was she really supposed to think nothing of it?

“Yes,” he allowed grimly. “I did.”

Her eyes widened in incredulous hurt. And that’s it?

“At that time…” The sheikh was visibly struggling to speak. “I was still…raw…over what happened between us.” The sheikh had never been the type to explain his actions, but at that moment he knew he would do anything to vanquish the unspoken pain he saw in Kyria’s eyes. “I seized any excuse to leave Ramil, tried anything that had the possibility of making me forget you.”

“Katerina---” And this time, Kyria, too, was having difficulty speaking. “You thought she could be one of those possibilities?”

“I did.” The sheikh’s lips twisted. “But it didn’t work. None of it worked---” He broke off as if he had suddenly recalled something distasteful.

“Malik?”

His jaw hardening, he said flatly, “I don’t want to lie to you, Ky. All these years…I was no saint. I know you know I’ve had women, and in the past two years there were a lot more of them. I wanted to fuck all of your memories out of my mind, but every time I did have a woman in my arms, I would close my eyes and see you.” He saw her pale, but his gaze remained on hers, unflinching. “In my mind, I was fucking you.”

A tiny gasp of shock escaped Kyria, and the sheikh’s jaw clenched more tightly. He mentally prepared himself for all kinds of recriminations, telling himself that he deserved whatever she threw at him.

But when she finally spoke, it wasn’t at all what he expected.

“I’m glad.”

They were words he had wanted to hear without knowing it, and Malik found himself sucking in his breath when he saw the rest in her gaze.

Desire, white-hot, tumultuous, uncontrollable, the kind that didn’t care about right or wrong---

The kind others might find sick and depraved---

The kind that shouldn’t have existed in two people who were raised to see each other as siblings---

With those eyes, she was asking him to make love to her, and they both knew it. She was asking him to do what he had been dying and aching to do for as long as he could remember, but somehow, a part of him simply knew.

“You’re not going to take me.” Her whispered words were not a question, and her faint tone was underlined by hurt.

The sound made him expel his breath, and the sheikh clasped her face with both hands. “No, Ky. Not just yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I need you to be sure about us.” His jaw clenched. “Even now, a part of me is furious with myself for touching you. I still feel like I’ve taken advantage of you.”

“But you didn’t,” Kyria cried out. “You’re never the type to take advantage, Malik, and you would never take advantage of me of all people.”

Her impassionate defense made him smile, but even so the sheikh said with gentle firmness, “Not just yet.”

“But Malik---”

“We’ll both know,” the sheikh said quietly, “when it’s the right time. I can promise you that at least.”

And so Kyria had to satisfy herself with those words, knowing that it was the last time they’d speak of that topic, and with her worries about Katerina over as well, their late-night talks eventually turned to more pleasant matters.

Most times, Kyria would succeed in convincing Malik to tell her about past instances that might have given him an idea about his attraction to her. The first time she had asked him of this, he had given her a look. “You really are quite the sadist, aren’t you?”

But even so, he had eventually given in, just like he always did, and Kyria could listen to him for hours after. He told her of how he had first found her sexually attractive at sixteen, and of how he had rigidly controlled his reactions towards her since then. The women he had fucked while pretending they were Kyria, she already knew, but what stunned her was how he had felt afterwards. He told her of how he would never let himself to be near her if he had just come back from fucking another woman.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Malik said with a self-deprecating shrug, “but that’s how I felt. I felt like I’d end up making you dirty if I touched you with the same hands that had touched another woman’s body.”

Those words had awed and humbled her, but more than that it made her realize just how much she meant to him, and how long and how hard he had to suffer while waiting for her.

“I wish I had known back then,” she couldn’t help whispering afterwards. Turning around, she placed her hands on his naked chest and pushed herself up so she could have a better look at his beloved face. “I’m sorry, Malik. I wish I had known so much sooner---”

He slowly shook his head. “I don’t.”

“But you were suffering---”

“If you had known earlier,” he said flatly, “then I wouldn’t have been able to help myself. I would have fucked you the moment I knew you wanted me back – and your age wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

Oh.

He stared up at her with dark, haunted eyes. “Does it scare you, Ky? How much I want you?”

She knew she should say ‘yes.’ She knew she should think he was wrong, and that her age should have mattered. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

“I’ll never be scared of you, Malik,” she whispered.

He let out a despairing laugh. “You should be.”

“Maybe. But I can’t.” A tender smile wobbled on her lips. “You know what I always say. You’re my favorite person in the world---”

A hoarse chuckle escaped the sheikh.

“So how can I ever be scared of you?”

* * *

Throughout his life, Malik had always been inclined towards subtlety rather than taking a direct approach to any objective he set his sight on. Perhaps it was because like all younger sons, he had been born with the need to prove himself different and at least equal to Altair, but he had also wanted to do so without giving the world any reason to think that he was envious of his older brother, which he had never been.

Perhaps it also had something to do with being subconsciously aware of his feelings for Kyria for almost half of his life, and the knowledge had forced Malik to learn how to operate in the shadows, far away from prying eyes.

Perhaps it could be none or all of these reasons, but either way, it was a tactic he had long exceled in, and as such the sheikh didn’t hesitate to employ the same strategy in introducing Kyria’s new role in his life.

On Kyria’s second week with him and with summer soon coming to a close, the sheikh decided it was time to take her with him to a social function that he had to attend as a representative of the royal family. Kyria had of course accepted his invitation without demur, considering it as part of her responsibilities as Vanna’s legal ward. And so it was, but only when it was too late did she realize that Malik had also intended the event to serve as her baptism by fire.

“Malik, please,” she protested under her breath three hours later. “Everyone’s staring.” And although she wished she were exaggerating, Kyria knew she was speaking the truth. Everyone was staring, and rightfully so.

It had started with luncheon, when Malik had insisted that she sit next to him rather than across him, as was the original seating arrangement planned by the host. It was a little high-handed of him, but then again he was a sheikh who was used to having his orders followed, and so Kyria – and no doubt the other guests – had simply shrugged it off.

Unfortunately, Kyria thought glumly, that was Mistake #1.

Malik had also insisted on being a proper gentleman, too much so, actually, by not only pulling out Kyria’s chair for her but also unfolding her napkin and placing it on her lap.

She should have known by then, Kyria thought with a private sigh. Instead, she had told herself not to make a big deal over it, which was of course Mistake #2.

The third one took place almost right after, when their first course was served. With different menus for men and women, Malik had then insisted to have Kyria taste his…by feeding her a bite…for every course…

And there were ten courses, Kyria recalled in despair.

By the time desserts were deserved, the few people who had so far resisted the temptation to stare at them had completely lost the battle, and Kyria could only comfort herself with the thought that the worst was over…which was of course Mistake #4.

As the conversation in the table turned idly to random topics, Malik had casually put an arm around Kyria’s shoulder. Later on, his hand went to the small of her back. In another instance, his fingers had curved around her waist. All perfectly innocuous touches that shouldn’t have raised any eyebrows---

If the world didn’t think of them as brother and sister, that was.

And now, as if the sheikh wished to cap the day with a coup de grace, was Mistake #5.

As the music changed tempo, Malik twirled her around in an expert move, and despite her embarrassment, her body moved on its own volition, her steps automatically following his. She let out a little gasp as he spun her back to his arms, and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest as he looked down at her with a decidedly rakish smile.

“Having fun?”

“No!”

But the sheikh only laughed. “What a liar you’ve become, shaqifa.”

“M-Malik!” Her face turned even redder. “Don’t call me that if you’re not going to act like you see me as…” Her voice stumbled to a stop.

“A what?” he asked with a grin.

“You know what!”

The sheikh sighed. “Alright, Ky. I solemnly swear never to call you that again---”

She started to breathe a sigh of relief.

“If you can honestly tell me you aren’t turned on when I call you my little sister.”

Kyria lost her footing and would’ve fallen flat on her face if not for the sheikh swiftly pulling her into his arms even as his broad shoulders shook in silent laughter.

As they left the dance floor, Kyria couldn’t stop fretting over the huge scandal looming before them. “I can just see all those horrible headlines,” she muttered, “and I can easily imagine Khalil wringing my neck.”

Malik snorted. “Khalil knows better than to interfere in my affairs.”

“But this isn’t just your affair,” she protested under her breath as they returned to her table. “We’re both part of the palace and---”

“Hallo,” a lovely, familiar voice intruded cheerfully, and soon after Farica popped into view, looking resplendent in the shortest mini-dress that Kyria had ever seen.

“Wow.” Kyria was genuinely impressed. “Your family let you out in that?”

Malik shot her a look. “Don’t even fucking think of it.”

“Oooooh.” Farica’s eyes sparkled. “I can see so much has changed since the last time I saw you two.” Bending down to kiss Kyria on the cheek, she whispered, “Has Malik told you about today?”

Kyria frowned as the other girl pulled back. “Told me about what?”

Farica rolled her eyes as she took the seat next to Kyria and shook her head disapprovingly at Malik. “Such a typical male you are, Sheikh.” Her gaze turned sly. “Or were you deliberately keeping it a secret because you wanted to see if it would make her jealous?”

“Of course not.” The sheikh’s tone was stiff, but a noticeable flush had stained his sharply defined cheeks, and the sight had Farica bursting into laughter.

Bending close to Kyria, she cupped a hand over her mouth as she whispered, “Remember the time you guys visited my club?”

Kyria nodded.

“He did it as a favor, and one which I was expected to return in the future, whenever the need arises.” Farica grinned. “Who would have thought that this is the kind of favor he’d be asking?”

Kyria was still bewildered. “I’m sorry. But I still don’t get it.”

Farica patted her hand. “You will in a bit. Just watch and then follow the trail in social media.” And with that, she turned to the sheikh, and Kyria was surprised at the suddenly seductive look that the other and much prettier girl directed at Malik as she cooed, “Didn’t you promise me a dance tonight?”

To Kyria’s even greater surprise, the sheikh stood and without a single look at her offered his hand to Farica. “Wouldn't miss it for the world, sweetheart.”

Kyria choked. Sweetheart? But as it turned out, this was just one of the many other surprises Farica and the sheikh had in store for the day. The two danced for three consecutive songs, and Kyria had to admit that the two made an incredibly lovely pair with their contrasting looks. Just looking at them made her jealous, although not to the point that she found herself hating on Farica the way she had used to with Katerina. Maybe it was because she was more mature now, or maybe it was because she was more secure of the sheikh’s feelings for her. Either way, while her heart experienced a little twinge here and there at seeing Malik dance with another girl, most of her thoughts were focused on the ongoing and increasingly loud chatter over at social media.

Having taken Farica’s advice, Kyria had indeed started checking the usual social media sites for news about the sheikh and the Dutch heiress. Soon enough tweets and posts started popping up, the content of which had Kyria drawing her breath. Majority of these came from Ramil’s more Internet-savvy citizens, with everyone first expressing their mixed sentiments about the photos that showed Kyria and Malik’s closeness.

Isn’t that incestuous?

Lannister alert!

Jamie and Cersei, Ramil version.

But then, other photos showed up, this time of the sheikh and Farica de Konigh dancing, and the thread of conversation took on a different turn.

OMG. Not Little Miss Shallow!

That girl is not for our kingdom!

Show some taste, Sheikh!

And finally, the two threads merged into one conversation.

I don’t know about you guys, but I’d rather ship MaRia than these two.

AFAIK Kyria Markides is Vanna Al-Atassi’s legal ward, so technically not the sheikh’s sister.

Farica de Konigh vs. Kyria Markides? Thinking it’s better we choose someone homegrown, you know?

By the time Malik and Farica returned to their table, everything was perfectly clear, and Kyria made a face the moment she met the sheikh’s gaze. “You should have told me from the start,” she muttered.

Farica nodded supportively. “He should have but---” Her voice turned sweet. “The dear man wanted to see you jealous. Were you?”

Kyria thought about lying, but then she saw the way Malik stiffened as if a part of him was preparing himself for a denial. Oh, sweet heavens, how could this beautiful man still not realize how much he meant to her?

And so she heard herself say, “More than I thought possible.” And when the sheikh turned to her with burning dark eyes---

He was right after all, Kyria thought dazedly, and it was more so than he probably imagined. He had told her once that they would both know when it was the right time, and he was right. Sometimes, you just knew, and tonight was that night. Tonight, it was time for him to make Kyria his.

But it was more than that, too. Sometimes, when you loved a person – you just knew. It would come out of nowhere, for no reason, but you just knew, with all your heart, without a shadow of doubt – you loved that person.

And that was Malik.

If one were to ask her when exactly had she stopped seeing him as a brother, Kyria knew she wouldn’t be able to answer. If one were to ask her when exactly had she started loving him, the way a man loved a man, she wouldn’t be able to answer that either.

But it didn’t make her feelings any less real or true.

Sometimes, you just knew.

And right now – her heart was dying for him to know the same thing. She wanted Malik to know she loved him, wanted him to know that he had not waited in vain for a seven-year-old girl to grow up and find her way back to him.

When it was time to go, Malik and Kyria stayed with Farica while they waited for her driver to come up the driveway, but as soon as they were alone, she turned to look up at the sheikh, saying simply, “I love you, Malik.”

She laid her head against his chest, happy just to have found the courage to say the words, and thus missing the way the sheikh had suddenly whitened. He did not, in any way, look like a man who was equally happy to be loved.

* * *

“Marhava, Emir Sheikh.”

“Everything alright?” Khalil asked his youngest cousin as soon as he heard Malik’s ragged tone over the phone.

Malik lowered himself to the couch and leaned his head back. “I’m not sure how I should answer that.” The rest of the study was dark and quiet, but it did nothing to soothe the savage tension inside of him.

“Is this about the dance?”

His lips twisted. “It’s made the rounds then?”

“The gossip about you and Farica de Konigh or Kyria?” Khalil didn’t wait for an answer. “Both have been extensively covered by our local media, and so far the odds are 8:1 in Kyria’s favor.” The king paused. “It’s as you predicted when you told us of your plan, so why the hell do you sound like you’ve just lost the war?”

“Because I might still have.”

Khalil frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“A member of my staff came to me while we were still at the event,” Malik said harshly. “I had assigned him years ago to monitor anything or anyone that might have something to do with Kyria. For the most part, his reports had been restricted to her grades in university, the people she associated with, but it was different this time.” Malik closed his eyes. “My staff’s contact at Kyria’s university informed him that the university was in the process of filing a formal request for Kyria to attend a disciplinary hearing. Apparently, their board of directors has a couple of conservative members who were offended by the possibility of Kyria and me---”

“Bullshit.” Khalil’s tone was coldly furious. “If your own palace does not question the legality of your relationship, what gives them the right to do so?”

“She is a student of their school,” Malik said wearily.

“Then have her transfer,” the king snapped.

“And if the same thing happens?” Malik demanded. “Must I have her transfer every time such things occur?” His tone turned bitter. “Must I have Kyria experience such hardship because I was foolish and selfish enough to fall in love with my own sister?”

“Lueta, Malik.” Khalil nearly slammed his fist against his desk in a fit of frustration. “Why are you speaking such nonsense now? It is not as if these thoughts had never occurred to you in the past.”

“They had.”

“And yet you continued to love her, and now, from what I’ve heard, she appears to love you back.”

Malik didn’t answer right away. In his mind, he saw her looking up at him, innocent and beautiful. In his mind, he heard her say the words---

I love you, Malik.

His fist clenched. She had said it so simply, so sweetly, said it like she had meant every word. But how could she? He had known that he was in love with her for years. But what basis could Kyria have to know she indeed felt the same way about him?

“Is that the problem?” the king demanded. “You think she does not love you?”

“The problem,” Malik said with a bleak laugh, “is that I never let myself imagine that she would love me back. And somehow, even now, I can’t seem to make myself believe that she does. That she could ever love me.”

“This is Kyria, for Allah’s sake. She’s adored you for almost her entire life---”

“As a brother,” Malik interrupted tonelessly. “But I do not want her as a brother. I do not want her as my sister, and heaven be damned, Khalil, but what if this all turned out to be a mistake? What if she has only confused infatuation with love? How can I let her face tomorrow’s hearing and have her subjected to vile words when there shouldn’t be a reason for her to be there in the first place?”

It was almost midnight by the time Malik’s call with the king ended and arrangements for tomorrow had been finalized. After leaving the study, he began to look for Kyria around the suite, all the while wondering what exactly he could say upon finding her.

Maybe it was better if he left everything to be discussed tomorrow, the sheikh thought heavily as he closed the doors of the empty balcony and moved farther down the hallway, his footsteps falling noiselessly on the carpet. To his surprise, he didn’t find her in his room either, which was where Kyria usually waited for him every time she expected him to return late.

Could she have left, Malik wondered tensely. What if she had found out about tomorrow’s hearing from someone else?

Pausing outside her door, he breathed hard and told himself he would react…calmly if she were indeed gone. If he learned that she had indeed left him of her own volition and for whatever reason, he would…accept it.

Malik reached for the knob, and it turned silently in his fingers as the door opened.

He sucked in his breath.

The first thing he saw was Kyria, lying on the bed, and she was touching herself.

* * *

In the week or so that she had spent with Malik, it was quite rare for the sheikh to leave her alone, and whenever he did, it was with the utmost reluctance and only for the most drastic of reasons. Tonight, unfortunately, was one of those nights. I need to speak with the king, the sheikh had said rather abruptly on their ride back to the hotel. And because he only tended to refer to Khalil as his ‘king’ in circumstances related to the state, Kyria had nodded understandingly.

She might have been looking forward to tonight’s intimacies, but she would never be so selfish as to be an obstacle that could prevent Malik from performing his duties as the king’s vassal.

So whatever happens, Kyria had told herself, I’ll wait patiently for him.

This, however, was easier said than done, and when it was close to midnight and the sheikh had yet to return, Kyria threw herself on her bed and stared up at her ceiling blankly. This time of the day was her special time with the sheikh, a time when she could succumb to his---

Oh!

The images that flashed in her mind made her wince, a part of her still unable to believe how her mind kept diving back into the gutter every time she thought of Malik. It was mortifying, but she just couldn’t seem to help herself.

Her eyes closed, and she found herself imagining him again, lingering on each part of his body---

His hair made her think of how she loved to clutch his head whenever he went down on her. His handsome face made her imagine of how he would look if she gave him her virginity. His back made her wonder if she would end up scratching it when they made love.

Everything about Malik made her think of sex, really, and her fixation with it just kept growing and growing.

Like now.

Her eyes flew open, and she stared the ceiling in quiet desperation, doing her best but failing miserably in her attempt to ignore the way her body was throbbing with unquenched need. She twisted and turned on her bed, but somehow every movement only made her insides burn hotter.

Heaven on earth, but how she wanted him.

Malik.

The mere thought of his name had her whimpering, and then she felt it---

Wetness gushing out of her, drenching her panties in seconds---

Dear heaven.

How could she be so wet just by thinking about him? It was so impossibly embarrassing, and Kyria could only be grateful that the sheikh was probably still busy with his all-important call with the king.

This was so terribly insane---

And yet…

Her body trembled as Kyria’s hand started drifting down.

So, so insane---

Her breath hitched as her hand went down past her navel. Her eyes closed, and Malik materialized in her mind, so exquisitely vivid that she could practically feel the heat of his hard muscles---

Kyria’s fingers slipped under her shorts, and a moan escaped her.

A sister shouldn’t touch herself while thinking of her brother.

But Malik wasn’t her brother. And so her hand went inside her panties.

She didn’t care if people thought this was sick. And so her fingers found her flesh.

Because he was the man she loved.

Another moan broke out of Kyria as her fingers started stroking her own quivering folds. She had never done this before. Never. She had always thought of it, yearned for it. There had been nothing more that she was tempted to do, but she had always held back, not touching herself as a punishment---

Another moan spilled out of her as her thumb accidentally brushed against her clit, and the tiny nub of flesh stiffened.

Malik.

His name in her mind was as sinfully sweet as liquor-laced chocolate, but it also still felt horrendously wrong to think of Malik while touching herself. Wrong, she couldn’t help thinking, but even so it felt good, so, so good, like a stolen, erotic glimpse of heaven.

Kyria knew she should stop now, before it got worse, before it got too much, but instead she stroked herself again. Over and over, her fingers stroking faster, and she didn’t think it was possible to stop…until she realized she was being watched.

* * *

Fuck. Malik’s entire body jerked when he saw where her fingers were.

Fuck. He watched her fingers begin to move, and his cock hardened like it was his own erection she was stroking to an arousal.

Her lips parted, releasing the sexiest little moan, and lust gripped his entire body.

He should turn away, forget what he saw, do nothing.

But instead the sheikh moved inside, his gaze never leaving her fingers.

Kyria. His beautiful Kyria was touching herself, and it was the hottest fucking thing he had ever seen.

Her lips parted again---

Malik.

She was moaning his name as she touched herself, and all rational thought left him at that point.

He was going to fuck her.

A shaken gasp suddenly broke the silence in the room, her fingers freezing, and when he jerked his gaze back to her face, he saw that she was staring at him in horror.

Embarrassment swamped Kyria at the sight of the sheikh’s taut form by the doorway, but just as she started to yank her fingers out of her shorts, the sheikh’s harsh voice slashed the silence in the room.

“Don’t you fucking stop.”

Kyria’s heart banged against her chest even as her fingers froze, just halfway out of her shorts.

“Did you hear me?”

Her teeth sunk into her lower lip at the shocking command, but even so---

Her fingers slowly started to move again, and raw, sexual hunger flashed in his eyes.

Aaaaaaah.

She had no idea what was going to happen now, no idea what would happen after. All she knew was that she had to obey him.

He slowly began walking towards her, and with every step she began to pant.

By the time he reached her, she was breathless, and when he looked down at her, oh---

She could so imagine what he was seeing: the girl who was his sister by all but name and blood, the girl he probably never imagined was this much of a slut, touching herself because she was so damn horny.

A whimper rolled out of her throat, and the sheikh’s large, powerful body stiffened.

A moment later, and he was suddenly bending down, his hands taking hold of her hips. One hard yank, and he had her horizontal on the bed; another yank, and he had her knees up.

“This,” he said roughly, “is how it should be.”

Oh!

“And these have to go…” Kyria could only gasp as he unzipped her shorts and yanked them out of the way. “They ruin my view.”

The unabashed wickedness of his words was more than she could handle, and she whimpered his name in a mixture of uncontrollable arousal and embarrassment. “Malik!” But instead of feeling chastised the sheikh only let out a laugh, the sound arrogant and taunting, telling her that he knew her resistance was a sham.

Her fingers curled uselessly against the silken sheets as his shadow fell over her, the sheikh bending close to reach for her underwear. He pulled it down, but unlike with her shorts, his movements were much slower this time, excruciatingly so.

Sheer sexual agony ripped through her, and Kyria’s body writhed and twisted.

The panties were finally off, and she forced her dazed eyes to open, just in time to see the sheikh shove the scrap of lace into his pocket. The action made her whimper in shock, but his gaze met hers unflinchingly, possessively.

Definitely not the way a brother would look upon a sister.

She watched him pull a chair, turn it around to face her with one graceful twist of his fingers, and her body jerked when she realized what he meant to do.

“N-no---”

But he was already sitting down, his long strong legs stretching before him. His dark gaze captured hers, and she whimpered. “Now…” He began loosening his tie. “Let’s continue with the show, shall we?”

Aaaaaaaah.

She could think of a thousand reasons why this was wrong, why they shouldn’t do this, but God…that commanding, desire-roughened voice…and those words…

The sheikh yanked his tie off just as she reached for the triangle between her legs.

He threw his tie away, and her fingers began to move.

His eyes burned, and she started panting.

Oh, Servant of God…

Her pussy was wetter than it had ever been, and her folds were quivering so hard it was as if they were about to fall apart in ecstasy any moment.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, anisdi?”

That he would call her ‘milady’ while talking about such a thing made her choke and whimper at the same time, but they both knew the words only turned her on.

The sheikh leaned forward. “Have you?”

Kyria gave him a jerky shake of her head.

“Too bad.”

She moaned at his words, but he only smiled at her ruthlessly.

“Next time,” he rasped, “I might ask you to do it in front of me. But for now---” The sheikh stood up, and she tensed. “I think I prefer to do it for you.” He slowly pushed her legs to open wider, and her stomach twisted in anticipation. Wider and wider her legs opened until she was completely exposed, and the fact that he was still fully dressed while she was completely naked waist down only caused more wetness to flood her pussy.

He had her completely in his hands, and the fact made her feel so deliciously vulnerable.

“Keep these legs up,” the sheikh gritted out. “Do you understand?”

At her nod, Malik slowly and steadily pushed one finger inside of her, and Kyria found herself clutching the sheets. Deeper and deeper, his finger moved inside of her, and her grip on the sheets tightened.

“Look at me,” he rasped.

Her desire-clouded eyes sought his, and the sheikh started shoving his finger in and out of her. With every thrust, his finger moved harder, and her inner muscles started to tighten around him. Her heart was racing, she was starting to lose her breath, but she just didn’t care. She was losing herself in the heat of his touch, her hips now moving on its own volition, thrusting up to meet every deep plunge of his finger---

Malik ground his thumb down on her clit just as his finger plunged knuckle-deep inside of her.

“Aaaaaaah!”

Her body arched as her orgasm came out of nowhere, fingers digging deep into the mattress, and as her helpless gaze sought his, Kyria dazedly realized that every moment in her life since that morning---

Every precious, painful moment…was leading to this.

“I love you.” She just had to say the words. “I love you.” Her sweet, dark, innocent eyes sought his. “I love you, Malik.”

Her words set him on fire, and any hope of leaving her untouched burned into ashes.

“Kyria…”

She gasped and writhed at the way he said her name, his every intention for her laid out in those two syllables.

He was going to make her his tonight.

He was going to take her virginity as his.

He was going to fuck her until her body was limp and her mind was close to breaking---

And then he would do it all over again.

Her whole body shook as she raised herself on her toes, and his hands fell away from her face as she clutched his shoulders. Malik stiffened as she leaned forward, inch by aching inch, until her aching breasts were flat against his chest.

His hands were suddenly gripping her waist. “Do you know,” Malik growled, “how fucking hot you are right now?” His dark gaze swept over hers, and that alone was enough for her breasts to swell and grow heavier with a need that she knew only the sheikh could assuage.

Only him, and of course she now knew that it had always been him, and always would be.

Malik.

Her desire for him flared out of control, and she could feel herself swaying and trembling at the sheer overwhelming power of it. Oh, sweet heavens, but there was no denying it now. None at all. She wanted him, needed him, loved him, her brother and sheikh by choice---

Her passion-clouded eyes meeting his, she gave him the only words that could sum up everything she felt. “I’m yours to take, Malik.” And as he sucked in his breath, she brushed her mouth against his, whispering, “So what are you waiting for?”

The sheikh’s control snapped, and the way his hands swiftly moved over her body robbed Kyria of her ability to breathe.

He made short work of her blouse and bra by simply ripping them off. She should have been terrified, but heaven have mercy, it just made her ache for him more, the very crudeness of it only feeding her arousal. When he pulled back to look at her, she instinctively tried to cover herself, but the way his eyes blazed with warning made her arms fall back against the bed.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this?” Malik asked hoarsely. She shook her head, and his lips twisted. “Far too long, Ky. And longer than it should be. When I should have only been thinking of you as my little sister---” His hands started to move, and Kyria started to tense. “I was already imagining you naked---” His hands cupped her breasts, and her lips parted to release a long moan of pent-up desire. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I thought of it every time I had to jerk myself off in the shower.”

A thrill of immoral pleasure shot through her at his words, and her body arched. “M-Malik.”

His hands started massaging her breasts, and her body buckled. Malik. Malik. Malik. His hands shifted, his fingers going to her nipples, and her eyes flew open just in time to see his shadow fall over her.

His mouth captured hers in a feral kiss, the bold thrust of his tongue making her gasp. He sucked on her tongue while his fingers started to tweak the pouting tips of her nipples. It felt like she was being so beautifully assaulted in all fronts, and Kyria could only writhe and kiss him back at the excruciating pleasure of it.

When he wrenched his mouth off, Kyria moaned in protest, and she caught a glimpse of his dark smile just before his head bent down.

Aaaaah!

His tongue flicked against one nipple, and her body nearly came off the bed, Kyria already knowing what this would mean. “M-Malik----”

He covered her nipple with his mouth, his tongue laving around it, and she let out a sob as once again it began, Malik feasting on her breasts like hers were the only ones he would ever want to taste. His hand curved around her breast, squeezing it up so he could draw her nipple deeper into his mouth.

He started to suck, and her cry turned into an aching sob. He sucked at her nipple for so long and hard that by the time he moved on to her other breast, she had been reduced into a mindless, panting mess. All she could do was clutch his head and let him do his worst in making her even more delirious with need.

Wetness flooded her pussy when his fingers found her flesh, her body already throbbing in memory of how he had pleasured her earlier. But when he parted her folds open, it wasn’t his finger thrusting inside of her but his tongue.

Malik, her brother, was fucking her pussy with his tongue.

Whatever rational thought she had left crumbled at the thought, leaving a woman completely enslaved by passion.

When Malik felt Kyria’s fingers driving through his hair before clutching him in a painful grip, he knew then that she was close to a release and he lifted his head to suck on her stiff, throbbing clit. She screamed his name. Once. Twice. And on the third time, he sucked harder on her clit, and Kyria’s body curved up---

“Malik!” She sobbed his name out as her orgasm began pounding into her body. It was the most arousing sound, and his fingers shook in his haste to unbutton and unzip his pants.

Her body still shuddering at her continuing release, Kyria turned hazy dark eyes to his, watching him free his engorged cock. “Please…”

FUCK.

Having her beg for his cock in all her innocence was just too much, and with a hoarse groan he pushed her legs wide apart and drove his cock into her wet and quivering pussy. Her fingers dug into his back as his cock ripped her hymen apart, and he let out a harsh growl when he saw blood trickle down her legs.

FUCK.

He had never had a virgin before, and his mind nearly splintered apart at the agonizingly primeval sight of her virginal blood.

Kyria’s virginity was his.

His dark wild gaze sought hers, Malik desperately searching for a way to reclaim his sanity, but looking into her eyes only made it worse.

So goddamn worse---

She was looking at him like she belonged to him, looking at him like she wanted him to do whatever he wanted with her body---

“Kyria.” He pulled almost all the way out before plunging back into her in one hard thrust.

“Malik.” Her nails drove deeper into his back as his cock withdrew and sank back into her in another mind-numbingly hard thrust.

“I’m fucking you, my little sister, my shaqifa---”

The words unlocked something savage in both of them, and Malik started pounding into her, his every thrust ferocious and brutal, and Kyria let out a keening cry. It was exactly what she wanted, and she clung to him, her hips moving wildly to welcome his possession. Her lost gaze jerked to his, pleading and demanding---

Fuck me. Break me. Own me.

His cock rammed into her, and their bodies arched against each other, the sound of Malik’s growl blending with her moan as they came at the same time.

* * *

The room was mostly dark when she woke up, the only light coming from the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Kyria rolled to her back, her mind still a little sluggish even as vague memories start to take shape and meaning---

Her eyes flew open.

So that really happened.

For a long while she simply stayed there, naked under the covers but feeling too lazy and pleasured to make herself care. Even now, she could still remember the way Malik had fucked her – all five times of it, and every time he had only given Kyria her release when she could no longer stop herself from crying out her love for him.

I love you, Malik, she had sobbed out, and only then had he thrust into her one last time, shoving his cock all the way deep into her womb and grinding hard until she started to stream as she came.

I love you so much, she had whimpered while she rode him, and only then had the sheikh reached up to squeeze her breasts hard and pinch her nipples. The mix of pain and pleasure was just what she needed to fall beyond the edge, and her hips had moved fast and wild over his as she reached another orgasm.

After, he had taken Kyria with her back against the wall, and the fourth time he had taken her from behind with her ass up in the air. As for the last---

A blush stole over her cheeks.

The sheikh had seated himself in front of a full-length mirror, and after placing her legs over the armrests, he had made her look at their shared reflection while he parted her folds and impaled her from behind.

Don’t take your eyes off the mirror, he had ordered in a guttural voice when she had tried to turn her gaze away from their all-too-erotic position.

Look at us. And there had been something in his voice that made her heart ache, something in it that told Kyria that her beautiful sheikh wanted her to look because he didn’t want her to forget him---

It had made her turn her head, and as she did, she felt the sheikh suck in his breath. She knew he thought she was disobeying herhim but it hadn’t been that at all.

She was turning her head so she could kiss him, and as he stiffened at the touch of her lips, she whispered, You’re the only man I’ll want to look at, Malik. The only man I’ll love. Only you.

A sigh escaped Kyria at the memories, and as she slowly forced herself up, her body started to ache in all sorts of strange places. It made movement a little difficult, but she didn’t mind. She liked how her body ached. The pain made her feel his, the way she now knew she had always wanted to.

A quick glance at the clock told her that it was a few minutes past four in the morning, and her brows furrowed as she wondered where the sheikh could have gone. Picking up the sheikh’s discarded shirt from the carpet, she put it on before padding out of the room.

Kyria found the sheikh in the balcony, and her steps came into a halt. He had changed into a thin long-sleeved shirt and woolen pants, and he was bent over the rails, looking so deep in thought, she suddenly felt unsure of the right to intrude.

As if sensing her presence, he suddenly turned towards her, and caught by surprise, Kyria’s lips curved into a tremulous smile. “M-Marhava.”

He didn’t say a word, his arms only opening, and tears stung her eyes.

Malik’s chest tightened as Kyria flew to him without the slightest hesitation, and his arms closed around her in a hard, inescapable embrace.

“What are you doing so up early?” she whispered.

“My jet’s scheduled to take off in a couple of hours.”

She pulled away. “So soon?”

He nodded.

Thinking that it had to do something with the king’s private call last night, she said simply, “I’ll get packing then.” She started to turn around, her mind already racing at how she’d be able to finish everything she had to do before leaving. She would have to contact the university online regarding her transcript, and then---

The sheikh caught hold of her arm and slowly spun her back to face him, and the bleak look she glimpsed in his dark eyes made Kyria draw her breath. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

“You misunderstood, Ky.”

“About what?”

“I’m flying back to Ramil today.”

Oh.

“But you’re staying here.”

“I see.” But that wasn’t quite the truth. She stared down at the fingers that were still wrapped around her wrist as her mind started to break. She worked hard to make sense of what he was saying but she just couldn’t. Without lifting her head, she whispered, “Was it all a lie?”

Malik whitened. “God, no. Never.”

And yet---

“Then why won’t you say the words now?”

The sheikh didn’t speak.

She raised her head. “M-Malik?” And when he simply looked at her, Kyria could feel her eyes start to sting. “Malik, I don’t understand.”

“Not just yet,” the sheikh said hoarsely. “I can’t say the words just yet.”

Ah.

“Do you understand now?”

She bit her lip hard, but it didn’t work. Her lip just kept trembling, and she was miserably certain she would do something embarrassing any moment now.

“Yesterday, someone from my staff brought to my attention about certain actions your university was taking. They planned to have you attend a disciplinary hearing concerning your relationship with me.”

His words swirled around her. A part of her knew they were important, but the larger part of her didn’t care.

“I pre-empted things. I contacted them last night and made it clear that nothing’s happening between us. I told them I was leaving today, and Farica de Konigh is the one I’m interested in.”

She tried. God knew how hard she tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

“You, on the other hand, would remain here and continue your studies as an ordinary student.”

But all she could think about was the way his fingers around her wrist was starting to loosen---

“Sametanira?” Did you hear me?

And when his fingers were gone and her arm had to fall against her side, she felt as if Malik had just pushed her away.

“Kyria?”

She forced herself to meet his eyes.

The sheikh whitened.

So much pain.

Too much damn pain.

And when she started to speak, he realized why---

“It’s j-just like---” Kyria wetted her lips. “This is just like when my parents died.”

“God, Kyria---” He tried to reach for her, and the sheikh’s chest tightened in pain when she jerked away from him. “

“One moment we were happy, we were c-complete, and then s-suddenly, they were just gone.”

He watched her work hard to make herself smile, and the sight gutted him.

“And this…this is like that. E-exactly like that. One moment, you’re telling me I’m all you were waiting for, but when I became yours---”

He saw her blink fast to keep the tears back, and it nearly drove him to his knees.

“You don’t want me anymore---”

“No.” The word was torn from Malik’s throat. “Kyria, no. You know it’s not like that. You know it’s not.” His voice became ragged. “You have to know it’s not like that. Even without the words – you have to fucking know---”

Even as her own pain ate her alive, she couldn’t bear to see the torment on Malik’s face, and she let out a choking, despairing laugh. “Oh, Malik.” And she found herself stumbling forward---

He caught her in his arms. “Please,” he said hoarsely. “Please tell me you understand I’m doing this for you.”

Heaven to be in the arms of the man she loved…

But it was also hell, because the man she loved didn’t believe she loved him.

She cupped his face with trembling hands. “I know,” she said shakily. “It’s as you think. It’s impossible for me not to know that you’re doing this for me. That you’re hurting yourself for me. But Malik---” Her voice caught. “Can’t you also see that if you let them win now, it will be the same again and again? Can’t you believe me now…when I tell you I love you? Can’t you trust me now?”

“I’m sorry.”

And when the sheikh slowly took hold of her hands to pull it down, she found herself crying.

“But I have to do this.”

Because she knew she had lost.

“Two years,” he said dully. “Let’s give it two years, until you graduate. If you don’t want to give us two more years, then this could be the other way around, too – perhaps you don’t trust yourself to keep loving me while we’re apart?”

He waited for her to speak, but all she did was cry.

“Is that it, Kyria?” His voice was harsh with all the fears he had started to harbor, ever since a seven-year-old girl came to his life.

The silence continued, as painful as the tears that flowed endlessly down her face.

But when she finally spoke, it was not what he had ever imagined she would say.

“Oh, Malik.”

It was the saddest way he had ever heard his name said, and the sound haunted him every moment after. There were no goodbyes when it was time for him to leave the hotel. Kyria had returned to her dorm, and even though he knew he was a fool for hoping, he had waited for her to show up at the airport for one last glimpse –

But of course, she didn’t come.

On his long, solitary flight back to the kingdom, the sound of his name on her lips remained close to his heart, a knife in his chest that he couldn’t make himself pull out. Because if the pain were gone, then it would mean that he had to face the fact that he had lost her all over again---

And he didn’t want that.

Back in Ramil, Vanna had prepared a welcome dinner for him, and of course all the other sheikhs, along with Harper, were in attendance. He told them without preamble what happened, knowing that they would find out sooner or later. “I have to give her one last chance,” he said flatly, “to think things through.”

None of them spoke a word, none of them telling him he was right or wrong to have done it. Rather, they only looked at him the exact same way Kyria had. It was as if they knew, like she knew, that it was just as Hadwin said.

Some things in life a person must inevitably learn to face.

And while that made sense, Malik wished he were goddamn certain what those things were.

* * *

Days passed.

Malik went back to his work and forced himself to act like nothing had happened, and he had never had a taste of the most beautiful of tomorrows, never had a glimpse of what he had always dreamed of. Most times, he would think he was okay, but then he would hear the phone ring, and his heart would smash against his chest, thinking that it could be her.

But it never was.

More time passed. Interest in his dating life eventually waned, and although occasionally there would be follow-up coverage on both Kyria and Farica, the reports mostly had to do with the unexpected friendship that had sprung between the two women. Both were often photographed together in recent times, and rumors had started to spread about Kyria possibly catching the eye of one of the men from the royal family of Contini.

She was clearly moving on, just as it should be. It was how things were always supposed to be. He knew this. He fucking knew this. And yet the emptiness of his life remained a burden he couldn’t seem to shake off.

When Kyria had left the kingdom for university, the two years that they had been apart hadn’t been like this at all. He had managed to survive those years by simply drowning himself in work, so why couldn’t he do the same thing now?

Why couldn’t he make himself let her go, dammit?

The answer eluded him, despite all the countless sleepless nights the sheikh spent chasing it, and in his desperation he found himself doing the one thing he had always hated to do, and on Vanna’s birthday of all times---

“Was I wrong?” Malik asked harshly. “Was I wrong to ask for these two years?”

His mother pretended to wipe away a tear. “My baby boy is talking about his feelings. I might just cry.”

The other sheikhs smirked even as Malik leveled a deadly look at Vanna.

“Oh, stop looking at me like you want to kill me, Malik. I’m only joking because if I don’t, I really might end up crying---” Her voice broke off, and then the older woman angrily snatched the napkin on her lap to dab the corners of her eyes. She so hated to weep, and furious at Malik for making her teary-eyed, she muttered, “You’re an idiot.”

“If I am,” Malik said silkily, “it’s probably because I have a lunatic for a mother.”

Vanna let out a gasp. “You hateful boy!” She threw her dinner napkin at him, but of course her younger son caught this handily, and her teeth gnashed. “It’s that attitude of yours,” she raged, “the very reason why you’re in this predicament.”

Knowing that the two were about to get in a pointless slanging match, Altair directed a warning glance at Malik before turning to Vanna. “Mother, calm yourself.” His tone came out smoothly enough, which was good, considering he was also doing his best to repress his smile. Seeing the two quarrel like they always did reminded him of Hadwin’s last words to him, a few days before his father had died of his injuries.

Be the voice of reason between those two, Hadwin had told him. Your mother and baby brother will hate to hear this, but the two of them are too much alike, and it’s why they often end up butting heads. Their love and honor are such they can do the most unthinkable things…

And of course, Hadwin was right, like he always was.

In their mother’s case, Vanna had fought tooth and nail for the palace to approve her marriage to a humble soldier from Greece, even threatening to give up her birthright if the crown didn’t recognize Hadwin as her husband.

And now, in Malik’s case it was practically the same, only he was doing the opposite. He had forced himself to leave Kyria, thinking it was for the best.

Glancing at his younger brother, he asked quietly, “Do you remember two years ago when you allowed Kyria to study abroad? Back then, we had made it clear that her leaving would be your decision. Do you remember?”

Malik gave his brother a clipped nod. “What of it?”

“In those two years, she hadn’t a single clue of how you felt about her, and the two of you didn’t exactly part in good terms. Do you remember?”

Malik shot Altair an impatient glance. “Of course I remember. Again, what of it?”

“Had Kyria ever spoken to you about those two years while you were in St. Valentine?”

Malik’s jaw clenched. “She did.”

“And what did she say?”

Kyria’s words returned to his mind.

Do you think I didn’t try?

It was one of my most important goals in the past two years, Malik.

But just the thought alone of going out on a date with another guy made my skin crawl---

Malik stiffened.

Altair spoke again, his voice firmer. “What did she say, Malik?”

Malik couldn’t speak.

“May I make a guess then?” his brother asked quietly. “Perhaps, in not so many words, she had told you that she hadn’t been the slightest bit interested in dating anyone else. Despite not having any reason to be faithful to you, despite not having any awareness of how you felt about her, she had still stayed faithful, had she not? And I know some may say that was only a matter of circumstance, that perhaps it was only because she hadn’t met the right person yet, but everyone at this table knows that isn’t true.”

Malik whitened.

“Kyria had already met the right one, and in those two years, she was already in love with you. She might not have known it, but she was already in love with you, just as a part of you knew…even when she was a child. You already found the right one for you.”

“Cheesy.” Harper’s whispered word cut the silence in the room. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Altair---” She choked back a sob. “So why the hell am I crying?” Her words ended with a wail and tearful sniffle. The sound broke the tension in the room, and Malik’s cousins laughed while a grinning Khalil drew his queen into his lap so she could cry on his chest.

“I hate you, Altair.” Vanna’s tone was waspish and shaky at the same time. “Didn’t I tell you I hate crying?” She turned to her younger son with red-rimmed eyes. “And you! Do you---” The older woman broke off.

Malik’s eyes were too darn bright.

Too, too bright for the kind of man he was.

And as was her wont, even after all these years, Vanna found herself helplessly calling out to her husband the moment she encountered something she didn’t know how to handle. Hadwin, help me. She was used to seeing Malik angry or aloof, used to having her younger son needle her to death. But she didn’t think she could ever get used to seeing her younger son this vulnerable. Tell me what I must do.

And as always, her beloved did not fail her. My love, just do what you always do.

Well then---

If that was what he believed she should do, then so be it.

Vanna stood up, marched to where Malik was seated, and as soon as his head lifted up, she gave him a good hard whack to his head the way she used to often do, back when he was a precocious child doing his best to flirt with all the women in the palace.

The whacking sound echoed in the vast dining hall, leaving everyone in the room stunned.

“What the hell, Mother?”

“Exactly,” she snapped. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, just sitting there and acting like there’s no Contini prince that can steal Kyria away?” Her voice shook, but she forced herself to continue. “You get it now, don’t you?” Vanna yelled. “You lied to yourself. You lied to her. You lied about whom these two years are for, and it’s not for Kyria! She’s already proven in the past two years her love won’t waver. These two years were for you, and it’s time you grow a pair of balls---”

Harper choked.

“---and accept that.” Vanna angrily planted her hands on her hips. “So once again, I’m asking you – what the hell do you think you’re doing, just---” She let out a shriek of surprise when Malik suddenly shot to his feet and swept her up in a bear hug, high enough for her feet to dangle in the air.

“You hateful boy!”

Malik laughed, but the sound was hoarse and raw. He let her down, but his arms only tightened around his mother, and when he spoke, his quiet words were just for her. “Thank you, Mama.”

And then he was walking away, her beautiful, kind, selfless son---

A man who had wanted these two more years because he only wanted more for Kyria, and he could not believe that what he offered the girl he loved would ever be enough---

This time, Vanna could no longer stop the tears. We did good, didn’t we, Hadwin?

Yes we did, my love.

* * *

The flight back to Contini was quiet, the sheikh preferring to spend the entire journey in silence. He contemplated, somewhat wearily and desperately, of the things he could say, the things he should say, but somehow no words seemed right. Somehow, no apology seemed enough.

What everyone had said was true.

He had asked for Kyria to prove her love to him, when in truth there shouldn’t even have been a need for her to prove it. Everything he had said about Kyria possibly finding someone else – all fucking lies.

Because the simple painful truth was – he had failed her.

He had imagined what it would be like for Kyria, had known that the disciplinary hearing would just be one of the endless ways in which the world would do its best to taint what they have and turn something precious into something vile and foul---

Just that first sign of trouble had been enough, and he had bolted like a gutless bridegroom struck with cold feet.

And with that, he had failed her.

It didn’t matter that he had the noblest reasons and had truly believed he could never be worthy of her love.

He had still failed her.

He was supposed to be the older one between them, the one who should have been wiser and stronger, and yet he had failed her.

* * *

It was early morning when the sheikh’s private jet landed in St. Valentine’s airport, and a grim-faced Malik ran down the steps, indifferent to the heavy downpour that greeted him as soon as he stepped out.

Emmanuel winced at the sight of the sheikh leaving without even a single umbrella. “Sheikh, hold on---”

“No need, old man.” Malik waved a dismissive hand without breaking stride. Emmanuel of all people should know how urgent his business was here. He still had no fucking idea what to do or say to have her take him back, but for now all he knew was that he had to at least try. He had loved her for as long as he could remember. He had to make her see that he was only human, but if she forgave him for being an idiot, he would never make the same mistake again. He would---

“Are you planning to run me over, sheikh?”

He would not do that, of course.

His head jerked up at the familiar sound of that lovely voice, and his eyes confirmed what his heart was beating too damn hard and fast to comprehend.

Kyria.

She was standing right in front of him, dressed in a plain black abaya, both hands curled around the handle of an umbrella. Her hair was loose, her eyes red-rimmed, but her lips---

That smile…

That smile told him no words were needed.

Because she already knew.

What he had to say, what he was likely to forget to say---

That smile told him she knew all of those things – and probably more – simply because she loved him.

Still.

“How---” He swallowed hard. “How did you know I was coming?”

“Intuition.” But her puffy eyes were twinkling. “As well as a little tip from the Queen of Ramil.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Big-mouthed as ever.”

She choked back a giggle. “Oh, Malik.” Her voice trembled, but the way she said his name was no longer like it had been the last time.

This time, she said it like his name was hers.

And so it was, and always had been.

For one moment he could only stare at her, and as expected the old usual doubts and fears swarmed around him, but they no longer ruled his thoughts the way they used to. He didn’t think they would ever go away, but they didn’t have to. Because this time he knew---

“I love you,” he said simply.

Kyria’s lips trembled.

“I love you so damn much it turned me into an idiot.”

She giggled again even as tears started to run faster down her face. “Oh, M-Malik.” It was the loveliest sound, and if he could hear it every day, he knew he would die a happy man.

“I’m sorry, Kyria.”

“I forgive you.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I panicked.” His chest heaved. “Like an idiot, I panicked at the thought of what loving me would have you face. I didn’t know if it was right to make you go through it. You don’t deserve something like that, and I know I can never be worthy---”

“S-stop.” She shook her head. “You’re always so s-silly that way,” Kyria chided tremulously. “I’m the one who should be thinking that, you know? Everyone knows I don’t deserve someone like you---”

“Whoever those people are---” His lip curled, but his voice was still raw when he finished, “They’re idiots.”

A fragile laugh slipped past her lips---

She threw herself at him, just like she used to.

And he caught her, just like he used to.

His arms tightened around her for a moment, and then because he could no longer help it, he pulled back to cup her face, demanding rawly, “Will you take a chance on me again?”

She smiled up at him, and the sight was enchanting. But when she spoke, it was her words that pierced his soul. “You never lost it, Malik. I was just waiting for you to come back for me.”

His mouth touched hers, and her eyes closed.