A Secret Birthright - By Olivia Gates Page 0,21
before those hours had been someone else’s, someone whose memories were sloughing off to be replaced by this new reality that had no rhyme or reason.
Then she stepped out of the jet and into another realm.
Her career had taken her all over the world, other desert kingdoms included, but Jizaan felt…alien, unprecedented.
The least of it was the airport itself, what she’d caught glimpses of from the air, what had the design, ambition and otherworldliness of a horizon-dominating space colony.
Everything else was painted with a brush of hyperreality. The star-sprinkled sky midway between the blue of eternity and the indigo of dawn had the vibrancy of another dimension, the stars the sharpness and abundance of another galaxy. The desert winter breeze that kissed her face and ran insistent fingers through her hair, even when jets’ exhaust should have tainted it, felt cleansing, resuscitating. The whole atmosphere was permeated by echoes of a history rife with towering passions, unquenchable feuds and undying honor. She felt it all tug at her through her awareness of Fareed, whose blood ran thick with this land’s legacy.
She stole a look at him, found him looking down at Ryan, his expression laced with fondness. Ryan, secure in Fareed’s powerful grasp, was looking around, his face rapt as he inhaled deep, as if to breathe in the new place, make it a part of him.
Her heart constricted. If only…
“Ahlann wa sahlann bekom fi daari-wa daarakom.”
Fareed’s deep tones caressed every one of her nerves—until she translated what he’d said.
He was welcoming them to his home. And theirs.
She knew this was simply the ultragenerosity the region was known for, where they offered guests their homes as theirs. She still felt as if a wrecking ball had swung into her. She swayed with the force of the phantom sensation.
Fareed grabbed her tight against his side.
He’d probably saved her, this time from a plunge down a flight of steel stairs. But being ensconced in his heat and hardness, his concern was unendurable.
She groped for the railing, quickened her descent, pretending steadiness. The moment she touched ground, her legs wobbled again.
He caught her, exhaled. “I should have woken you earlier. You’re still drowsy. Or you’re hypoglycemic again. You barely ate anything since we started this journey.”
She didn’t refute his explanations. Better to let him think it was all physical. She wouldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t. Not the general truth. Or the one behind her latest bout of chaos. That as soon as her feet touched the ground, she could almost swear the land pulled at her. And yelled at her.
Leave, the moment you can. Before you sustain an injury you won’t survive this time.
They’d reached the limo awaiting them a dozen feet from the jet’s stairs, where Emad had taken the driver’s seat with Rose beside him, when she heard Fareed say, “We’re going to my place, Ryan.”
The words meant for Ryan skimmed her mind, leaving no impression. Then they slowly sank. And detonated.
She swung to him as he held the door open for her. “What?”
He frowned his confusion. “What do you mean ‘what’?”
“What do you mean your place?”
He smiled, a smile drenched in that overriding sensuality that was as integral to him as his DNA. “My place is the place where I live. And where you’ll stay.”
“We’re going to stay in your center!”
He gave an adamant headshake as he prodded her to enter the limo, making her slide across the backseat by entering after her. “Only during the immediate pre- and postoperative period. And don’t contest this again.”
“I never contested it a first time.…”
“Which was much appreciated, so don’t suddenly change—”
She cut him off in return, feeling her brain overheating. “Because this is the first time I’ve heard of this.”
“Not true. I told you during the flight.”
“Was I awake when you told me?”
He gave her a thoughtful glance, then his smile scalded her with its amusement. “Come to think of it, that you didn’t contest it should have clued me in that you were sleep talking.”
“And now that I’m awake…”
“You’ll be my esteemed guest.”
Before she could utter another protest, Ryan, who’d been getting louder demanding his attention, grabbed his face and tugged. Fareed turned to him and at once they got engaged in another game of fetch-and-explain.
Even though he had been paying Ryan every attention, she knew he relished that timely excuse to end their conversation. She knew there was no use trying to continue it. He had this infallible way of getting his way, of making his unilateral decisions