The Last Prince of Dahaar - Page 14

“I thought you didn’t care about your father.”

“I don’t. But it doesn’t mean that I want him to suffer. That would just...”

“Finally break through your stubborn head and show you what an ungrateful daughter you are.”

Zohra came to a sudden halt and stared at the man who was now her husband. They were surrounded from all sides by her father’s family and his own. And yet the scorn that had rattled in his words was just as obvious in his gaze. “Have I done something to upset you, Prince Ayaan?”

“No, Princess,” he said, lingering a second too long on the title. “Just telling the truth as I see it. It seems very few people dare to.”

“And you do?”

“I have taken an oath just now that I would protect you. Even if it has to be from yourself.”

“And of course, being a man, you have all the correct answers without knowing anything about my relationship with my father, right?”

One corner of his mouth turned up in mockery. “Have you noticed how every argument with you comes down to the fact that I am a man and you are not? One would think beneath all this contempt you show for duty and Siyaad, you’re just annoyed that you are not allowed to rule.”

His arrogance rendered her mute for a second. “I have never coveted the crown of Siyaad,” she said, angry with herself for letting him rile her so easily. “All it entails is that you endlessly sacrifice either your or your loved ones’ happiness at its feet.”

“As you are apparently unable or unwilling to see, I will spell it out for you, Princess. It seems your father has given you unfettered freedom while you didn’t even blink at the idea of betraying his trust. A princess of Siyaad, spending her summers in the desert, falling in love, the very life you have led is a testament to it. You’re standing here,” he said, laying his arm so casually against her waist that for a moment she lost track of what he said, “for no other reason than because you think you’re protecting your sister from a horrible fate.”

Her father and now Prince Ayaan, had both said the same thing to her.

Did they not see that it was their devotion to duty that had left her with no choice?

* * *

After more than an hour of mingling with guests, either strangers or her father’s family, who snubbed her or the courageous ones that veiled their insults cleverly, Zohra was to ready to escape when she found herself next to her new husband.

His nearness unsettled her, an extra layer of awareness sparking to life. Or maybe it was that he had a habit of saying things that burrowed under her skin.

A ten-layered white glazed cake that looked like a castle perched on the edge of a mountain was wheeled in front of them.

She laughed and turned toward him. “This has to be the best part of wedding a prince.”

His gaze lingered over her mouth a fraction too long before he responded. “A lesser man would take offense at that, Princess.”

His hand was callused and warm over hers as they cut the cake, his breath an unwanted caress against her skin. Maintaining her smile took more effort than it should have. “It’s a good thing you’re not a lesser man, or even the average. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be so...”

The cheers around them should have fractured the intimacy of the moment. Instead, a web wove around them and neither could dispel it. His long fingers brought a piece of cake to her mouth, and Zohra’s skin prickled. “So...?”

Swallowing the cake past a tight throat, Zohra mirrored his actions. His mouth, opening and closing over her fingers, sent a shiver up her spine. Shaking her head, she struggled to find her voice. “So unaffected, untouched by...everything around you. You seem to want nothing for yourself, you...”

“Who said I don’t want anything?” he whispered.

His words washed over her like warm honey. Her gaze flitted to his lips as if drawn by a force she couldn’t fight.

He really had the most sensuous mouth—full and lush, in perfect contrast to the sharp angles of the rest of his face. Longing, unbidden and powerful, reached and held tight inside her muscles.

With that awareness also came a gut-clenching realization. This man, despite all his promises of expecting nothing from her, was more dangerous to her than a traditional prince could have been. Because she didn’t know what to predict from him. Like now.

Suddenly, a flicker of such unbearable pain filled his gaze and she lost track of her thoughts. He hadn’t been fully smiling before—he never did—but at least there had been a gleam of indulgent humor in his expression. Now, his features were frozen into a cold mask.

Tags: Tara Pammi Billionaire Romance
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