The Last Prince of Dahaar. Tara Pammi

onto sharply fragile cheekbones, her mouth—unpainted and pink. The slow burn under his skin gathered momentum. He had never liked the scent of roses growing up, it had pervaded the palace, his own chamber and sometimes, even his clothes. Yet the scent of her skin danced beneath it, teasing, tempting, coated with her awareness of him.

      “So you would prefer to be part of my harem instead of my wife?”

      Her gaze widened, her mouth opening and closing. “This is my life we’re talking about.”

      He came to a stop near her and leaned against the bed, enjoying the proximity of her presence. It didn’t fill him with the suffocating tension that everyone else’s did since his return. “You haven’t said a single word that would make me take you seriously, Princess.” She opened her mouth but he didn’t give her the chance. “All I see is a woman throwing a tantrum like a petulant teenager instead of doing her duty. What if someone had seen you come into my suite? You risk exposing yourself to ridicule and scandal, adding to your father’s burden.”

      She didn’t like that. He could see it in her eyes. “Of course, you wouldn’t want someone petulant like me to be the future queen of Dahaar, would you?”

      “So, this is all to prove a point?”

      “I don’t have any duty toward Siyaad. And nothing will make me feel anything more for Dahaar either.” She took a deep breath, as though bracing herself. “Marrying me will only bring shame to you and the royal house of Dahaar.”

      He covered the distance between them, knowing that she was baiting him yet unable to resist. “Why does that sound more like a threat and less like a warning?” he whispered.

      “I’m simply telling you the truth. Whatever expectations you have of your bride, I will fail them.”

      Ayaan frowned, regretting not learning more about her before he had given his word. “If this is about your expectations of this marriage, state them.”

      Zohra tamped down the scream building inside her chest looking for an outlet. He wasn’t supposed to ask her what she wanted out of this marriage. He was supposed to sputter in outrage, call her disobedient, scandalous...

      Any other man in his place would have called her behavior an insult. He would have gone straight to her father and broken the alliance.

      “The only expectation I have of you,” she said, feeling as though she was stepping over an unknown threshold, “is that you use the power you have to refuse this marriage.”

      A neat little frown appeared between his brows. “Unless I have a strong reason for it, it would be termed as an insult to your father, to you and to Siyaad.”

      “Isn’t it enough that you have zero interest in marrying me?”

      “I have zero interest in marrying anyone. But I will do it for—”

      “For your country, yes, I know that,” she spat the words out, feeling that sense of isolation that had been her constant companion for eleven years. She had never belonged in Siyaad, never felt as if she was a part of it. “But I’m not duty bound as you are. All I want is the freedom to live my life away from the shackles of this kind. And if it is a crystal clear reason that you want, then I will give you one.”

      “You have my full attention, Princess.” There was a dangerous inflection in his voice where it had been void of anything else before.

      She wet her lips, praying her voice would hold steady when she was shaking inside. “I’m not future queen material. I don’t give a fig about duty and all that it entails. I’m educated and I’m smart enough to have my own opinions, which, I have been informed, are enough to drive a man up the wall. I’m a...bastard.” She had to breathe through the lump growing in her throat. “My father lived with my mother until I was seven but he...never married her. He became my guardian when she died.”

      Not even by the flicker of an eyelid did he betray his reaction. “Is that all?”

      Curse the man to hell and back. Desperation tied her insides into painful knots. “No, there’s one last reason—the most important of all.”

      “Don’t stop now,” he said, his voice laced with mockery.

      “I’m not a chaste virgin with an unblemished reputation.” Her chest was so tight she wondered if she was getting any air. “I would rather you refuse me now than claim that you’ve been cheated when you...find out.”

      He ran his forefinger over his temple, his expression betraying nothing. Her heartbeat ratcheted up. “When I find out that you’re not a virgin?”

      Fierce heat blanketed her, even as shock stung her. Why wasn’t the man throwing a royal fit even now? “When you find out that I was in love with another man, when you find out that I have spent four summers with him in a desert encampment...” She swallowed painfully, just the thought of Faisal slashing pain through her.

      “That is...a valid reason for me to refuse you,” he finally said.

      Zohra felt the most perverse disappointment. He had been unlike anything she had imagined until now.

      “So are you prepared for your father’s reaction when I present him with this...reason?”

      Her gut dropped to her feet. “What do you mean?”

      “I told you. I have no wish to insult your father after everything he has done to stand by mine. You might not feel any duty to your country. But are you so selfish that you would put your father through this? He will not only be shamed by his daughter’s behavior but he will be so in front of an audience.”

      She flinched at the distaste in his words. He hadn’t intended to back out for a second. Her gut churned with a powerless clawing. “I have no wish to weaken my father. I merely gave you the truth.”

      His gaze was filled with a bitterness that cut through her. “Your ‘truth’ is only useful to me if I can quote it to your father’s face. Our fates are sealed no matter what you or I wish, no matter what skeletons we have in our closets.”

      Zohra’s palms turned clammy. He was not backing out. Marrying a stranger, being locked forever into the cage of duty and obligation—the same duty that had ripped her family apart? She would take an uncertain future over that.

      She sought and discarded one idea after the other, panic gripping her tight.

      “Fine,” she said, her mind already jumping ahead. It had been a waste of time to come here. “I have only one choice left then.”

      She turned around, determined to act before the night was up. She couldn’t stay in the palace, in Siyaad for another minute.

      She was about to step over the threshold when a hand on her arm pulled her back. A soft gasp escaped her mouth as she was pushed against the wall with sure movements. The muscles in her arms trembled, her senses becoming hyperaware of every little detail about him.

      Like the strong column of his throat as his chest fell and rose. Like the tingle in her skin where his fingers touched her.

      “I suddenly have great sympathy for your father, Princess. My sister Amira is just as headstrong as you seem to be, but at least, she listens when Azeez or I...”

      A dark shadow fell over his face. He had spoken of his sister as though she was still alive. She shouldn’t care about his pain, but it pierced through her anyway.

      “Your sister? The one who died five years ago?”

      He met her gaze. The pain in it flayed her open. “Yes.” His hands landed on either side of her face. He bent until she could see the light scar over his left eyebrow. Any grief she had seen a moment ago was gone. “Now, tell me what the only choice you have left is.”

      She pushed at him, but he didn’t relent. “I’ve not given you the liberty to touch me, Prince Ayaan, neither to haul me around.”

      “You should have thought about that