The two of them stood on the hotel steps while behind them Mahmud's men held on to Saul, who was still gagged and struggled like a madman.
Safiya's heart began to race when she saw a big black motorbike speed past the convoy of police cars. It had been so long. So, so long since she felt her heart beat this way again that she found herself placing a hand over her chest—-
Real, she thought.
Her heart was truly pounding, and when the motorbike came to a roaring stop right in front of her and her father, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest, and it was then she knew.
Even before the biker had taken his helmet off and everyone around them had practically stopped dead to gawk upon seeing his face—-
Of course she knew.
He was her heart, after all.
Altair.
He was even more devastatingly attractive than she remembered, and his presence so tremendously larger than life that it took a while for her to realize something more important...which was that he was dressed for combat?
Stunned dark eyes flew up to the sheikh, but the princess' anxious appeal was left unnoticed, with Altair too busy doing his own staring. People were also staring at him - at them - but he didn't give a fuck about that either. All he knew...all he could think of...all he could see was her.
Safiya.
His Safiya.
His princess.
She really was here, and the realization made his head spin even faster.
A mere ten minutes ago, Altair, having made himself believe the worst, had already suited up for battle. Since the investigation had come up with nothing, he had been prepared to personally lay siege on every terrorist-owned encampment in the region. They were the last possibility, the only reason left to explain why none of his people could find her, and it was while he had been briefing his soldiers when the call came in—-
Saul.
The Sheikh of Farigha.
The princess.
That was all he needed to hear before racing out on the fastest fucking thing he could get his hands on, which turned out to be Malik's Dodge Tomahawk from his racing days. The bike was a beast, and Altair was thankful for that. The bike was supposedly capable of gunning down the road at 350 miles per hour, and the sheikh had certainly put that to the test.
And now that she was finally standing behind him—-
Beloved.
She had called him that in her letter, and he had known then she was that for him as well.
The princess was his beloved, and it was why, even though he could also see Mahmud and Saul behind her, he simply could not make himself give a damn.
After over a fucking month of thinking he had lost her for good, of struggling not to think that something had happened to her—-
His beloved was finally standing in front of him, and the sheikh's gaze raked over her in desperate need to assure himself she was real. And that she was fine.
No wounds seemed like it.
No bruises.
But...
She looked like she had been crying. Looked like she had lost weight, too.
And when his gaze finally met hers—-
"Why are you dressed for battle?"
The fear in her whispered question nearly made his heart splinter, the sound of it telling him right away that it was as she had promised in her letter. Even when she had every reason to do so—-
She did not hate him.
She thought him an angel still.
And most of all—-
She truly fucking believed—-
How the fuck could she believe—-
"You’ve gotta be the world's biggest idiot," Altair said hoarsely.
Safiya couldn't help gasping even as she heard her father chuckle behind her.
"To truly believe that I was only pretending to love you."
But the princess didn't answer.
She couldn't seem to, with the way her lip had started to tremble, and when he saw her bite it hard to keep herself from crying, he could no longer help himself—-
"Maehdina, hamira. I'm so fucking sorry."
Strong, hard arms engulfed her, and the tears she had tried so hard to hold back started flowing.
"I promised myself I would let you go, that I only need to know you're safe, but I can't. I just fucking can't."
The rawness of his tone made her cry harder, and when she felt his large strong hands actually shaking as he cupped her face—-
I know you think I'm some fucking angel," Altair gritted out, "but I'm not. I would not hurt you the way I did if I were. I would let you go if I were. But I just fucking can't. And you, dammit...you..."
He glared at her, and Safiya was torn between confusion and laughter. He had never glared at her like this before, and for some reason, it made her think of Mahmud's last words to her before calling the police.
Her father had told her that the sheikh's love was true, and just because it had started a lie did not change what it became.