Al Hamar had gone to sleep early, and he woke at dawn the next day. He looked over at Sonya. She had opened her eyes when the sun came up, but shut them when she saw the sheikh move.
“I know you’re awake, you little brat. You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you, you naughty girl?”
He got up, left the room, and came back with a bowl of grapes, whistling. He crawled back into bed, now lying on his side, propped up with his elbow on a pillow and his head on his hand.
“I’m hungry. Feed me.”
Sonya didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Do I have to use my whip, again?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly. Her eyes also asked for pity, but she would not get any. For al Hamar, despair was only an incitement to more cruelty.
“Well then, go ahead.” He held the bowl above Sonya, who was lying on her back.
Despite her wrists being tightly bound and her hands swollen from lack of circulation, she spread her fingers and palms apart enough hold the bowl.
“No!” he shouted.
Sonya looked at him, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion and exasperation.
“Feed me.” He set the bowl down on the bed, between their two bodies.
Sonya pulled her feet toward her butt and wiggled her shoulders as she pushed herself against the headboard. When she was partly upright, she reached into the bowl and picked up a grape with each hand.
“Slower. You don’t want to fatten me up, do you? Ha!”
She dropped one grape.
“Go ahead. You’re a dumb little girl, aren’t you?”
Sonya raised her arms and brought the grape toward his mouth. She averted her eyes, staring down at the blanket instead of the sheikh.
“Look at me,” he said.
Sonya moved her eyes to his gut, which looked like a hairy beach ball. It was so hard and distended, she wondered if he had liver cirrhosis from drinking so much. She wished he would just drop dead right then.
“Not there. I know I have a sexy body! But look into my eyes.”
She slowly raised her eyes until they met his. Al Hamar’s eyes were small and beady. They seemed shallow, almost like pictures and not real eyes. His pupils were the size of the tips of pencils. The whites of his eyes were streaked with jagged red lines.
“Okay.” He opened his mouth.
Sonya brought the grape to the sheikh’s greasy lips like he was a rabid dog who might bite her if she moved too fast.
He sucked the grape from her hand, sticking his tongue out to lick her fingertips, grabbing and squeezing her waist at the same time. Then he belched. His breath smelled like a garbage can.
“Now, look at me…” he said, pulling back the blanket to reveal his tiny pecker, which was hard at last. He raised the whip.
Sonya looked down and saw it. Her heart thumped in her chest like it was trying to tear through her rib cage. She wanted to die.
“Another grape,” he hissed, sliding his clammy fingers over the smooth skin of her stomach.
Sonya fed him another grape.
“I’d offer you one, but it looks like you’re enjoying your chew toy. Well, maybe I’ll let you put something else juicy in your mouth.”
He loosened the belt but paused before removing it. “You’d better not scream, or I’ll put a pillow over your face,” he said, holding his finger up like a schoolteacher. “Oh, I’m just kidding. You can scream all you’d like. In fact, I’d enjoy that. Don’t worry, no one will hear you but my bodyguards, and they don’t mind. This room was soundproofed, just for me.”
Al Hamar yanked the belt out of Sonya’s mouth.