Bound to Seduction (7 page)

He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but when
he awoke, he knew a visit from Zoraida was inevitable. She had to
be pissed over what he’d done. She could see—through the opal he
wore—into the human world and watched his targets. But he was
willing to take the risk. Because for the first time, something
besides his own suffering mattered.

Footsteps echoed outside his cell. He opened
his eyes just as metal clanged against metal, and the cell door
swung outward.

“You’ve a visitor,” the guard barked.

The guard shoved a half-naked man into the
cell. Long, dark hair covered his face. He tripped, started to go
down, but Tariq lurched to his feet and caught him before he hit
the floor. “Nasir?”

The cell door clanged shut again as Nasir
lifted his bruised face toward Tariq and tried to smile. His bottom
lip was split and bloodied, and he was missing a tooth. “You
recognized me even with my makeover? Guess Zoraida’s guards aren’t
doing a good enough job.”

Carefully, Tariq lowered his brother to the
floor. Disbelief and rage whipped through him. “What did she do to
you?”

Nasir grimaced as he scooted back to lean
against the wall. His skin was dirty and bruised, and he was
thinner than Tariq remembered. As if he’d not only been beaten but
starved as well. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“How did she find you?” It was the first
time Tariq had talked to his brother in nearly ten years. Not since
the day he’d been captured by Zoraida’s goons along the Jagged
Coast and brought to this hellhole.

Nasir lifted a shoulder, dropped it. He
shook his hair back from his face, a move he’d been doing since
they were kids, and for the first time, Tariq saw a flicker of the
warrior he knew his brother to be in the battered djinn at his
side. “We got a request for help from the Wastelands. Ghuls were
reportedly ravaging villages. My unit was moving through the Red
Desert when we came across a small settlement, still smoking. They
were lying in wait. Ghuls. Wreaking havoc. A battle resulted. I
heard a scream, went looking. Came across an innocent about to be
raped. I tried to help. Turned out she wasn’t so innocent.”

“Zoraida?”

Nasir nodded. “The Ghuls were hers. They
jumped me before I even realized what was happening.”

Nasir’s explanation made perfect sense. His
protective streak was legendary. He hated injustice, and when it
involved a female, there was no keeping him sidelined. Not if he
thought he could help. Tariq knew that protective streak was a
result of guilt. The war between the tribes had been going on for
hundreds of years, but Nasir had always been the pacifist in the
family. The one who thought negotiations and treaties were the way
to end wars, not battles. Their father disagreed. As prince, a
military career was required, but being a general, commanding
legions, had never been part of who Nasir was. Until, that was, his
betrothed was killed.

She’d lived in a small coastal village. One
that built ships for the kingdom. Ships used in the Gannahmian
army. The attack came at night. On a holiday. When most inhabitants
were home, asleep in their beds. The entire village was burned to
the ground. Every resident killed. And Nasir, who was supposed to
be visiting his love for the holiday and wasn’t because he’d been
called out on patrol, had never forgiven himself for not being
there to protect her.

Tariq leaned back against the cold cement
wall, rested his forearms on his updrawn knees. “And Ashur. How did
she find him?”

“You know Ashur,” Nasir said with a ghost of
a smile. “Can’t stand to be left out of the fold.”

Tariq would have laughed, but the situation
was anything but funny. As the youngest brother, Ashur did hate
being left out. But he’d never willingly turn himself over to
Zoraida. “How did she…?”

“She used me,” Nasir said, all humor gone
from his voice. “Said she was willing to make a deal. That she knew
where to find you.”

Shit
.

“We didn’t even know you were still alive,”
Nasir went on. “Father thought you’d perished on the Jagged Coast.
We mourned you, Tariq. They held a funeral rite.”

Tariq stared at the bars. So his family had
already buried him. Ten years in this hell and they thought he’d
died exploring some stupid coast in their kingdom’s name. No wonder
no one had ever searched for him.

He looked to his brother as the thread of
hope he’d been hanging onto since being brought here solidified.
“Surely Father’s looking for you and Ashur now.”

“I’m sure he is,” Nasir said on a sigh. “But
he won’t find us. Ashur didn’t tell anyone where he was meeting
Zoraida. She warned him to keep it secret. She’s good at disguises,
as you know. Ashur didn’t suspect a thing either. Until it was too
late, that is.”

Tariq looked back ahead as that thread
snapped. He thought of the guards holding Ashur against the bars of
his cell the last time he’d seen Zoraida. The way his brother had
barely been able to stand. The way his eyes had been glazed and not
focusing. “Where is she keeping you both?”

“In a cell. Not far from here.”

“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.”

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.

“Tariq, dammit,” she said against his mouth.
“Kiss me. Kiss me like I want right now.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, not a single
muscle. And then a growl erupted from his chest. His arms closed
around her with stunning force. He opened to her, slid his warm,
wet tongue along hers, drawing out her desire and replacing it with
a wicked need that consumed every inch of her body in a rush of
flames.

Her muscles went lax. Her body thrummed with
need. Her legs ached to slide around his hips.

She groaned as he walked her backward toward
the couch, nearly cried out in ecstasy as he lowered her to the
cushions. His kisses drove her mad, his tongue so slick, so firm,
so delicious stroking her own. She wanted that tongue laving her
breasts as it had before. Wanted to feel it slide along her sex
until she came. Then she wanted it back in her mouth as she
straddled his hips and lowered, taking him deep for the very first
time.