Midnight on the Sands. Оливия Гейтс

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СКАЧАТЬ him. She was beginning to wonder if he ever left the palace.

      A sickening weight settled in her stomach. He was like a prisoner in some ways, and yet, he was the one who’d sentenced himself. But she could sense it. Could sense that there was a dark energy in him that was boiling beneath the surface. And that he held it back, along with so many other things.

      She could see the skyline of the metropolitan city beyond the highway, providing an elegant and unexpected backdrop to Old Kadim, which was still prominently in the foreground. The buildings made of stone, the narrow roadways lined with open-air markets.

      There was a flavor to it, unexpected so near the modern, gleaming brilliance of the city beyond. It fascinated Katharine. Called to her.

      As the car passed one of the markets, Katharine craned her neck to see. It was crowded, people out doing daily errands, and tourists who were enjoying the Old World atmosphere of the open-air shopping.

      “I’d like to stop here for a while, if that’s all right.”

      The two men in front exchanged glances, then nodded and the driver pulled the car into the nearest parking spot—a spot Katharine was a bit skeptical was in fact designed for parking, but that seemed to be driving in Hajar. People following their own arbitrary rules.

      The security team got out before her, in a move that seemed a touch obvious, then came and opened her door. “Thank you,” she said.

      The men were glued to her side as she made her way from the car down into the main hub of the market. “You can walk behind me,” she said. “Just a little bit.”

      When she went shopping in Europe she always had security with her, but they weren’t usually so big. Or hulking. Or obvious.

      She breathed in, the sharp scent of meat, spice and dust mingling together, tickling her throat. It was loud here. Talking, laughing and music melting together, indistinguishable from each other.

      “I’m going this way,” she said to her detail.

      They followed silently, their expressions stoic, their manner no less obvious than it had been a moment earlier.

      The crowd was thick and people rushed past her, some nearly running into her. Strange to think that this would be her home for the next few years. It was so different to anything she was used to.

      She watched as a mother bent down and picked a screaming child up from the ground. So different, but the same, too. She smiled and turned to one of the stalls, touching one of the glittering necklaces that was tacked onto a flat of velvet with a small nail.

      “What is this?” Zahir’s voice, hard, angry, cut through the noise of the market like a knife.

      She released her hold on the necklace. “This is me … shopping. How did you know where I was?”

      “Kahlah. I certainly didn’t hear it from you. Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”

      People were pausing to stare. Truly, they were gaping openmouthed at Zahir. From what she knew of him, he never made public appearances. He had a face for radio he’d said, and he addressed his people that way. There had also been very few pictures taken of him since the attack, none close up.

      But they knew who he was. And it was clear that some were awed, others horrified. Frightened. Because so many of them believed him to be a devil. A beast. Zahir didn’t seem to notice at all. His eyes were on her, and her alone.

      He closed in on her and took her arm. “This isn’t safe.”

      “I have security with me.”

      “I had security,” he roared. “We all had security. It didn’t do any good.”

      “Zahir … “

      His hand tensed around her arm as more people began to crowd around them, people who had walked through her as though she was invisible. Not now. Add Zahir to the equation and everyone was riveted to the drama unfolding.

      He paused for a moment, his body stiff. She saw the same strange, distant look in his eyes, as though he wasn’t seeing her, as though he wasn’t seeing what was around. His eyes locked with hers, bottomless wells of dark emotion. He was like a hunted animal, all fear and rage and primal instinct.

      That was when she knew he saw her, unlike the time in his office. But there was something wrong. He wasn’t in this moment. He was in another time, gripped with an emotion so strong that it had dragged him down into the depths of it.

      He pulled her away with him, out of the crowd, to one of the crumbling brick buildings behind a market stall. She stumbled, and he held her steady, his strength enhanced by the adrenaline she knew was screaming through him.

      They rounded a corner, slipping into a narrow alleyway, and he pressed her against the wall of one of the surrounding buildings, his big body acting as a shield. From what, she didn’t know. His hands were pressed flat against the brick on either side of her, his chest against hers. He was hunched over her, the gesture protective, feral.

      His breathing was harsh, unsteady, each gust of air bringing a near growl with it that seemed to rumble through his being. His entire body was rock hard with tension, every muscle, every tendon straining as he fought to keep himself strong against her.

      “Zahir,” she said, her voice soft.

      He didn’t move, he only stood, braced, a human barrier between her and whatever danger he thought they faced. She lifted her hand and put it on his chest, felt his heart beating hard against her palm. She felt his pain. His fear. It was in her, squeezing around her heart, suffocating. Horrendous.

      And she could only imagine what it was to be in Zahir’s body now.

      She slid her hand up, her fingers curling around his neck. He lifted his head, his dark eyes blazing with something wild, intense. She moved her hand upward, resting it lightly on his cheek, his skin rough beneath her fingertips. “Everything’s fine. We’re just in the market.”

      He shuddered beneath her touch, his eyes closing for a long moment before he opened them again.

      She lifted her other hand, resting it on the smooth side of his face, and looked into his eyes. “Zahir.”

      He swallowed hard, and she felt him shiver, the muscles in his body spasming. “Katharine.”

      He pulled away from her. Katharine was relieved to see that the crowd had dispersed, thanks in part of Taj and Ahmed and their ham-handed style of security, she imagined.

      “I’m fine,” she said.

      “Get in the car,” he said tightly.

      She nodded once, moving ahead of him. She kept her head down, ignoring the stares and the conversation in languages she didn’t understand.

      “No,” he said. “My car.”

      She turned and looked in the direction Zahir was focused on. The sleek black car was identical to the other one, part of the royal fleet, she imagined. “You didn’t drive, did you? Because you shouldn’t drive.”

      He shot her a hard look. “I do not drive СКАЧАТЬ