“And how long have you been here?”
“I’m not sure. Weeks. Months. It all seems to roll together in my head. They brought Ashur to me a few days ago. But he…”
Tariq’s head snapped around at the hesitation he heard in Nasir’s words. “He what?”
Nasir rolled his head against the stones until he met Tariq’s gaze. “He’s not doing well, brother. They keep pulling him out. And when he returns, he’s even more bloodied and bruised than before. He’s not done anything to deserve the beatings. He barely even moves or talks. I’ve tried to get them to take me.” The good corner of his mouth curled, just a touch, drawing Tariq’s attention to Nasir’s newly split lip. “Works every now and then. But they keep going after Ashur.” Nasir’s smile faded. “He’s—”
Fury consumed Tariq all over again. “He’s me.”
Nasir lifted his head. “What?”
“Zoraida can’t punish me because it would delay her ultimate goal, so she’s taking it out on both of you. And she knows Ashur is weaker. So she’s using him to get to me first.”
Rage rippled through every muscle. She wouldn’t stop at Ashur. She wouldn’t stop until Tariq completely gave in.
He thought of Mira. Of the gift she’d given him. Of her wish. Of his backing away and warning her off that wish. Zoraida had seen what he’d done. The Firebrand opal granted her a bird’s-eye view. And instead of taking her fury out on him, she was doing it to his brothers. Because she knew that would leave a bigger mark than any lash against his skin.
“I don’t know how much more he can take,” Nasir said softly. “And if all three of us die in here…”
Tariq clenched his jaw. This suddenly wasn’t just about Mira’s soul. If they all died, there’d be no heir left in their kingdom. Their father wouldn’t be able to rule much longer. He’d been ready to pass rule to Tariq ten years ago, but Tariq had wanted one last exploration. One last bout of freedom up the Jagged Coast before he was mired in the duties of court. A selfish decision he now regretted.
“She can’t win, brother,” Nasir said into the silence. “If she destroys us, she’ll turn her attention to Gannah. With the Ghuls under her command, her strength the way it is, and us not there to lead the army…”
Nasir’s voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his thought for it to register with Tariq. If what his brother said was true—if Zoraida had aligned herself with the Ghuls—then it meant the war was heating up. With all three princes—generals in the Gannahmian army—dead and the king ailing, what confidence would their soldiers have? How long could Gannah realistically defend itself without a ruling monarchy?
Consequences of his actions swirled behind Tariq’s eyes. Decisions he never should have made filled his thoughts and mixed with images of Mira on that Tahitian beach. And through it all, he knew Zoraida was smarter than he’d given her credit. Torture was one thing. Deciding between life and eternal death was something else altogether. Especially when you were the one forced to choose condemnation for one versus thousands.
“What are you going to do?” Nasir asked into the silence.
Tariq ground his teeth against the injustice building inside him. “The only thing I can do.”
CHAPTER SIX
Mira was pissed.
Not just at the way Tariq had left her but at his dire warning.
Curse? What curse? She dumped a laundry basket full of clean clothes on her couch as she stewed.
At first, she’d been horrified by his rejection of her. Then wigged out over his warning. But the longer she thought about it and the more time that passed, the angrier she became.
Screw him for making her stress and worry like this. Screw him for disappearing on her in the first place. There was no way her little “wish” was going to “destroy” her, as he wanted her to believe. That was a mile of bullshit she definitely wasn’t buying.
This had nothing to do with a stupid curse. It had to do with him. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in her. Her hand stilled on a shirt mid-fold as the thought hit. She probably wasn’t as exotic as the women in his world. Definitely not as aggressive. What had she done during their last encounter? She’d lain there like a lump and let him have all the power. Wasn’t her “wish” about taking charge of some of that power? Wasn’t it his job to teach her how to do that?
She tossed the folded shirt in the basket, picked up a pair of capris as her temper spiked. Well, next time she wasn’t going to sit back and be the docile wallflower he expected. And he wasn’t scaring her off with his mindless threats. So what if he wasn’t attracted to her? This was her wish, dammit, and she wasn’t backing away from it or any challenge.
She finished folding the laundry, put it away, then went into her kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. As she stood at the patio window looking out at the city’s sparkling lights and downed her first glass, she reminded herself that it didn’t matter what Tariq thought of her personally. She wasn’t interested in him. She was doing this for Devin. So that when it was over, she’d have the confidence to snag the only guy she truly wanted.
And she deserved him, dammit. She’d spent way too many years alone. She deserved to have a man fall at her feet.
She poured herself another glass of wine and took it and the bottle to the coffee table in her living room. As she sipped the cabernet, she forcibly relaxed her muscles, breathed deep, and eased onto the couch. To her right, a fire roared in the fireplace. From outside, city lights beat in to illuminate the room. Her confidence grew with every passing second, swirling with the anger still bubbling inside her, any fear or misgivings she’d had drifting to the wayside. She was in charge here, not Tariq. It was his duty to do what she wanted. It was his place to fulfill her wish.
She brushed her fingers across the Firebrand opal resting against her chest, sipped her wine again, and waited. A cloud of smoke filled her living room, followed by Tariq’s muscular body, shoulder-length dark hair, and chiseled features.
Yeah, he was sexy as hell, but who cared? This was about her. She looked up at him, sipped her wine again. Waited.
His face was a mix of emotions she couldn’t read. Not that she cared. He took a step toward her. “Mira—”
She pushed to her feet, set her glass on the coffee table, and crossed to him. “I don’t want to hear you say anything but ‘Yes, Mira.’”
She stopped in front of him, pressed a hand against his chest, and marveled at the corded muscle and heat beneath her palm. “And I don’t care if you’re attracted to me or not, Tariq. This isn’t about you.”
His eyes widened. Surprise registered in their dark depths. And a smug smile flitted across her mouth because yeah, she’d surprised herself too. And damn, but she liked this surge of power.
“Show me how you like to be kissed,” she told him. When he hesitated, she added, “‘Your wish, my command.’ Remember?”
His gaze drifted to the Firebrand opal nestled in her cleavage, and her anger built because she sensed he was going to come up with some lame excuse as to why he couldn’t go on. “You’re bound to fulfill my wish, djinni. Kiss me now.”
His dark gaze shot back to hers, narrowed—which only pissed her off more—then skipped past her and swept the room.
What was left of her patience snapped. She grasped his face, tugged it down to hers, and pressed her mouth to his.
He froze, his eyes open wide. She didn’t let go, kissed his plump, masculine lips again, and pressed her body flush against his.
He was hot. Everywhere. Tingles erupted in her breasts, in her hips, anywhere they touched. Dark flashes of arousal rushed through her mind as his hands settled at her hips. She tightened her arms around his neck, tipped her head, slid the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips, waiting, hoping he’d take the hint and open to her.