It wasn’t lost on him that most of the rebels looked ready to tear Malik apart.

They were a group of dissenters and naturally distrust was second nature to them. Kamar was hurt more by how hard he was pushing to get them to accept the merchant with Djannian connections.

“Think of how this would help us,” he urged, glancing at the faces around the table in the darkest corner of the room. “Need I remind you how well-trained the military of Djanna is? They also have far better weapons than us.”

Only one lantern illuminated the faces of the three people gathered with them.

Malik had fallen in step beside him, and he hadn’t budged since Kamar brought him to the back of the long, underground hall. After the introductions, the merchant lapsed into silence as well. But Kamar was aware of his steady gaze. He felt it prickling the hairs at the back of his neck and not in an unpleasant way either.

In that moment, he realized Malik didn’t want to leave him alone, Kamar had recognized the fierce, sudden attraction was mutual.

Malik’s black eyes hadn’t concealed his passion. Kamar imagined if he hadn’t put a stop to it, the merchant might have kissed him–right there, in the middle of the rebel hideaway. It wouldn’t exactly be the best example of leadership.

However, it might have made this whole explanation much easier. If they thought Malik was a lover…maybe even a fiancé, his rebel friends could have been inclined to reserve their suspicion of the merchant.

As it was, Kamar struggled to get them to see reason.

“He could be of great use,” Kamar stressed, regretting his wording almost immediately. Groaning, he collected his scattered thoughts and said, “A tradesman with proven access to Djanna could tip this revolution to our favor.”

Beside him, Malik shifted restlessly.

Keeping his eyes on the faces of the two men and woman in front of him, Kamar smacked the table when their silence stretched on.

“Come on,” he demanded. “Open your eyes. We’ve wasted months already, holed up down here, our hands tied behind our backs.”

“It’s not that we don’t want to act,” the woman hissed.

Kamar dismissed her comment with a wave. “Then why refuse perfectly good help, Asha?”

Suleiman, the skinnier man of the two, sniffed. “Because we have no idea who he is–friend or foe, how can we judge if he gives us no family name?”

Kamar regarded Malik who looked more bored than he ought to. It wasn’t going to help tilt the odds in their favor.

Scoffing, Kamar shook his head.

“Cowards,” he snapped, knuckles rapping the table again, “that’s what the lot of you are. Cowards with dreams of change rattling around in their fearful minds—”

Breaking off, he turned to Malik and tilted his head for the exit. “Let’s go, my friend.”

“Now wait, brother,” the third member of the group, Jibril, stood. He pushed the plate of samosas at them, gesturing to the empty seats at the table. “Sit, eat, and let’s discuss more. We haven’t said ‘no’.”

“But you aren’t also saying ‘yes,’” Kamar reminded him.

He did take a seat though. Malik sat as well, his outer jean-clad thigh, strong and sinewy, bumping Kamar’s leg. It was a point of contact that fueled Kamar’s out-of-control libido. To think he had gone so long without knowing what the Omega heat felt like, and then this stranger comes along unleashing a torrent of dirty, wild sex fantasies.

Afraid he might turn and beg Malik to take him on the table in front of them, Kamar struggled to concentrate on what Jibril was saying.

“Merchant Malik, please try and understand our wariness. We have our reasons for not wanting to let any outsiders in.” Jibril sighed. “Unfortunately our screening process isn’t as up to par as we’d like. So, you can imagine how we feel, yes?”

Malik gave him a curt nod.

“And you understand why we’re hesitant? Brother Khalid has told you about our mission, then?”

Kamar cowered, expecting Malik to out him. His eagerness had led him to bringing Malik straight to the hideaway. That and the buzz of their quick attraction fogged out what he should have been doing, explaining what the revolution was and how important it was to him and the other rebels.

“He breezed over it, yes.” Malik nodded, his gaze moving from Jibril to rest on Kamar. The merchant’s eyes caressed Kamar’s face like he wished his hands were.

God, how could anyone put so much into one look?

Cheeks warming, Kamar resisted the urge to shudder with delight.

“Then, you mean to help us?” Jibril’s question had everyone leaning in, even Kamar.

“I am strongly considering the need for change,” Malik replied.

Not everyone appeared confused. Jibril bounced back, his expression weighted with thought. “We wouldn’t allow you to sit in all our meetings yet, but if you can prove yourself, Merchant Malik, then we’d be happy to name you a fellow brother in our mission.”

Jibril’s wrinkle-marred face brightened with his smile. “Now, if you don’t mind, we will continue from here alone. Brother Khalid will show you around, introduce you to whomever you wish. You’re in no better hands than with our leader.”

Kamar pushed away from the table, taking that as a cue and not wanting to push the subject anymore.

Malik was in, that’s all that mattered.

“Congratulations,” he whispered once they were far enough away. He led Malik to an empty table for two. He didn’t want to share the merchant’s company anymore, so introductions with the others would have to wait.

While they ate, Kamar ordered some tea.

Someone delivered a pot of steaming, honeyed brew, along with the other necessary fixings for their drink.

“You’re the leader?” the note of incredulity in Malik’s tone was offending.

Kamar frowned over his task of pouring milk in their cups and stirring in sugar.

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” he said.

“What?” It was Malik’s turn to scowl. “You haven’t disappointed me. I’m merely surprised.”

“Why? I don’t look like what you expected.” Kamar held himself taller, in case Malik wanted to take a second look at how manly, how intimidating he could be despite his shorter stature and his leaner build.

He puffed out his chest. “I am the leader of the revolution that will turn Zhebair onto the bright path of progress. I am the face of change.” His speech, though lofty, faltered at the sight of Malik’s slow, sexy grin.

It crawled up from the corners, lifting his scarred, dark cheeks. “You’ve convinced me. I apologize.”

“You don’t look apologetic,” Kamar remarked gravely.

“I don’t grovel, Khalid,” Malik deadpanned.

Kamar believed him too. Something about the way the merchant carried himself. It was almost regal. Like he was used to walking on finer carpets, in more opulent rooms, and with a grander title…

“That might be for the best,” he said, sipping his tea gingerly. “I get the feeling you wouldn’t be good at it.”

Malik’s eyes cut through him over his own teacup. “Your intuition, Brother Khalid, would be correct.”