Siren of the Desert

*~Chapter three (Capture)~*

Chapter Three (Capture)

He stared down at her with stunning amber eyes that glowed a brilliant shade of gold. Maria had never seen such piercing eyes on anyone before, as sharp as a spear tip. He towered over her by at least two heads, his frame large, strong, and rippling with muscle. His face revealed his astonishment —a face, she realised for the first time with a jolt, that was wickedly handsome. Frozen to the spot, she watched as his arched eyebrows furrowed and his inviting mouth drew into a thin line. His black thobe and the dagger hanging from the shawl wrapped around his waist added to his dark aura. She had only ever seen the sheikh from a safe distance, but she would never have suspected him to be so exquisitely handsome up close.

Maria felt naked underneath his piercing gaze. It seemed to her as if they could peer deep into her soul. It unnerved her further. Instinctively, she bent down to grab the keffiyeh lying on the ground. Before she could even touch it, Zain stamped his foot on the fabric. She slowly straightened. His face had hardened into all hard lines. She met his unforgiving eyes that narrowed into slits at her. She gulped.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded in a deceptively calm voice. She felt a shiver of dread slither down her spine. Every hair on her nape stood on end. His nostrils flared. His eyes blazed.

Her instincts commanded her to flee for her life. She obeyed. With speed and agility that was foreign to her, Maria whirled around and bolted. She didn't get very far. Strong, freakishly large hands grabbed her shoulders and tugged her back with a strength Maria had no hope to resist. Her back slammed into what she immediately realised was Zain's chest. The breath was knocked out of her lungs in an "Oomph." Arms as strong and unyielding as metal chains wrapped around her waist, pressing her even harder into his muscled, broad chest. She could not control the crimson flush that permeated her cheeks. She was unaccustomed to a man's touch.

"Where do you think you're going?" As he spoke in that baritone voice of his, his warm breath fanned her right ear, and his chest rumbled. It started a very strange, very fierce bubbling sensation in her stomach's pit. She shuddered.

"The hell away from you!" Heavens knew from where she mustered the courage –although some might call it stupidity— and audacity to reply to the Sheikh of Malamar so boldly.

He didn't answer. He remained silent for a very long time. She became more aware of the man whose embrace she was trapped in with every passing second. She suddenly came face-to-face with him. Startled by how fast he'd turned her around, she blinked up at him. She reached only up to his chest. She resisted the strange urge to touch his face just to see if it was really as hard as it looked.

His mouth curved into a ruthless smirk that made her heart skip a beat.

"Aren't you the feisty one?"

To Maria, it sounded more like a statement of admiration rather than a criticism. Nevertheless, she felt anger well up inside her. To be standing there in Zain's arms receiving compliments like some...some...harlot filled her with palpable rage. A rage that blinded her.

"And you're a pitiful, cowardly thief!" Maria knew the words she'd uttered would cost her life, but heavens help her, she hadn't been able to stop herself from shouting them, but since she's already gone down that path, she wasn't about to stop now.

She summoned all her strength and then raised her left knee, kneeing him right in the loins. He immediately released her as he crumbled to the ground. She didn't waste any time loitering around. She was out of the alleyway and racing down the street in a matter of seconds. Running proved much more difficult this time; her bindings were constricting her breathing as her chest rose and fell with every intake of breath. Rasping for breath, she ran for what felt like hours but had to be only a few minutes.

As she rounded a corner, hands shot out and seized her by the upper arms, jostling her. She screamed. Reflexively, she kneed him again. He saw it coming this time, yet still failed to react in time, "Woman, don't you da—AGGH!"

For the second time, she attempted to escape with her life. This time, she randomly raced through streets and alleyways, changing her route constantly to throw him off of her tail. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was not behind her. Had she lost him? She looked straight ahead, and her heart dropped. She abruptly came to a halt.

Standing right in front of her with his legs apart and his arms crossed was none other than Zain. His eyes had darkened into a smouldering gold colour. Jaw set, he pinned her in place with his intimidating gaze. He radiated malice. Terrified, she took a few steps back, preparing to sprint. He lunged for her. She turned and started to run. A hand fisted in her hair and tugged her backwards. She cried out, feeling the roots of her hair protest.

Zain watched her face contort into a hundred expressions as she struggled in his arms, scratching and biting like a she-wolf. He'd followed the singing; her voice, utterly spectacular and oh-so-very feminine, had drawn him, and like a moth to a fire, he'd immediately changed course and followed the voice. The mysterious girl was turning out to be quite the raging spitfire, and she had an explosive temper to match. In fact, he had never met a girl bold enough to knee him, not once, but twice in the groin. She excited him, this girl who wore men's clothing.

"Release me!" she would demand between every bout of struggling.

Practically mesmerised, he observed her, taking in every detail. She was a rare beauty; the likes of which men did battle over. No part of her other than her face and hands were visible, but from what he could see, Zain was very pleased. Her eyes were a breathtaking shade of azure that brought to his mind an image of clear blue skies. She had a pretty nose, eyelashes like that of a gazelle, and a creamy, smooth complexion. Her coal-black wavy locks tumbled down to brush against her bottom –a bottom his hand was aching to touch. Although she wore baggy clothes, pressed to him like this, he could feel her every lush curved.

He wanted her.

She attempted to knee him in the same place a third time. Unfortunately for her, he was prepared for her signature move. He easily caught her knee without breaking eye contact with her, then quickly slid his large hand to the back of her thigh to maintain hold of her. His hand arm went from her waist to the small of her back. He pressed her even closer to him, practically crushing their bodies together, moulding them. She gasped, wide-eyed and mortified. She felt blood rush to her face.

"Hey—!"

Without warning, Zain crashed his lips against hers.