of truth in the words. She was hungry and thirsty, and she didn’t really think he’d drugged the food. There was no point spiting herself as well as him.
Her chin tilted at a haughty angle that belied the trepidation she felt, she walked over and sat down opposite him. She took the glass he held out, her fingers brushing his and sending another tingle like lightning through her. Her arm jerked in response, everything in her flaring white-hot. The man noticed; Olivia saw it in the brief gleam in his eyes and she felt a rush of embarrassment. She was so innocent, so gauche. She could not even hide it. And the fact that she should be attracted to him, her captor...
It was both weak and wrong.
‘Taste.’ His voice was a low, lazy drawl.
Olivia raised the glass to her lips, conscious of the man’s gaze resting on her, so languorous and speculative, and she took a cautious sip. ‘It tastes like liquorice.’
‘It is the anise. Do you like it?’
She took another sip, feeling the fire blaze down her throat and into her belly, warming her right through. ‘I...I don’t know.’
He laughed softly, the sound winding seductive tendrils around her. She took another sip, craving the courage it provided even as the practical part of her told her drinking more was most unwise. The last thing she wanted to do was let her defences down in front of this stranger, magnetically appealing as he was. He was also dangerous—that Olivia knew for certain, felt all the way to her bones—and getting drunk was definitely not a good idea right now.
‘So you have never had arak,’ he mused. ‘I am pleased to introduce you to a new experience.’
‘Are you?’ With a slightly unsteady hand Olivia returned the half-drunk glass to the table. She’d only had a few sips and yet already she was feeling the effects of the alcohol, her mind pleasantly blurring at the edges, her body relaxing. That was undoubtedly a bad thing, especially with the way the man was looking at her, with a mix of speculation and, yes, desire. Just as she, impossibly, unwisely, desired him.
A thrill ran through her like an electric shock at the realisation. She was naïve, yes, and completely innocent, but even she could see the heat in his eyes, although she could hardly credit it. That such a man, a powerful, sensual, attractive man, would want her...
But she shouldn’t want to be wanted, not by a stranger who was most certainly a threat. Confusion chased desire, leaving her emotions in a ferment. ‘Where are we?’ she asked, looking away from that heat-filled gaze.
‘In the desert.’
‘I know that, but where? Are we still in Abkar?’
There was a pause while he cocked his head, his gaze sweeping over her thoroughly, leaving heat and awareness in its wake. He wasn’t touching her and yet everything prickled; it was as if parts of her body were stirring to life for the first time. Her breasts, her thighs, her lips. She felt weirdly, achingly conscious of them all, that persistent tingle going right through her, impossible to stop or ignore, obliterating common sense, rational thought.
Disconcerted, Olivia reached for her glass. She’d have just one more sip of the anise-flavoured arak, that was all. She needed a distraction from this unwelcome and overwhelming reaction.
‘No, we are not in Abkar,’ he said, his gaze still resting on her, considering, assessing. ‘We are in Kalidar.’
The country of Halina’s fiancé, Prince Zayed al bin Nur. Was her abduction related to Halina’s impending marriage? Was the minister in power, Fakhir Malouf, behind it? Fear trembled in her breast at the prospect and her fingers clenched on the goblet. She had heard terrible things of Malouf, a man who seemed to possess neither mercy nor kindness. This man hardly seemed like a minion of Malouf...but who was he?
The man must have noticed the fear tensing her fingers and flashing in her eyes, for he leaned forward, his gaze blazing silver for one heart-stopping second. ‘I have told you, you need never be afraid of me. I know we have had an inauspicious beginning, but you can trust me on that.’
‘You kidnapped me from the palace,’ Olivia pointed out, glad her voice didn’t tremble as her insides did. ‘Why shouldn’t I be afraid of you? And why on earth should I trust you?’
‘Such means were necessary. Unwelcome, I grant you, but very much necessary.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I had waited long enough and I could wait no longer. But we need not concern ourselves with politics tonight, hayete.’
My life. The endearment caught her by surprise, made her feel weirdly exposed, as if the careless words had revealed a need in her she’d been trying to hide. Olivia blinked at him, wishing she hadn’t drunk so much of the arak. Her whole body was buzzing, but not just from the alcohol. The effect this man had on her was far more intoxicating than the arak. It hardly seemed possible that she could react so instantly and overwhelmingly to a stranger, and a dangerous one at that, yet...
She could not deny it. He affected her, and he knew it.
With a small smile flirting with his lips, he leaned forward and cut off a wedge of cheese from the platter with a small, wicked-looking knife. He handed the wedge to her, his lids half-lowered, his smile glinting, making Olivia feel another insistent throb of desire, a pulse going through her whole body. ‘You should eat something. You have drunk much of the arak, considering you have never tasted it before.’
‘I—oh.’ Fumbling a bit, Olivia replaced the glass on the table. She would drink no more. After a second’s hesitation she took the slice of cheese from him, her fingers brushing his once again, and nibbled it. It was delicious, fresh and tangy, and made her realise how hungry she was. The hours of riding had sapped her strength and given her an appetite.
‘Good, yes?’
‘Yes, it is very good.’
He cut a wedge for himself and popped it in his mouth. ‘Have some grapes,’ he said after he had swallowed, and he took a bunch from the table.
Olivia finished her cheese, mesmerised by the sight of his long, lean fingers tearing off a bunch of the grapes. Everything about the man was sensual, sexual. She couldn’t escape it, couldn’t ignore the heat snaking through her, pooling low in her belly, the tension and expectancy shimmering in the air. It was all so unfamiliar yet felt so...wonderful.
There was no other word for it, strange as it seemed. She felt as if she’d imbibed some secret elixir and it now flowed through her veins. She craved even more of it, the fizzing fireworks, the slow, molten uncurling inside her, even as a part of her insisted she stop, she back away, she stay safe.
She reached for the grapes but with a smile the man gave a little shake of his head and plucked one from the bunch, holding it out between his fingers, a sleepy challenge now in that heavy-lidded gaze. Olivia stared at him uncertainly.
‘Open your mouth,’ he said softly, and her eyes widened with shock. The invitation was so blatant, except it wasn’t an invitation at all. It was a command, and one she should most certainly refuse. She should demand he release her; she should be acting outraged and angry, or even just afraid. Anything but this meek and wilful obedience, already enslaved to her own desire, and yearning for his. She was complicit in whatever was happening here, unspooling between them in a golden thread of sensation.
