Siren of the Desert

*~Chapter seven (Harem)~*

Chapter seven (Harem)

"It's because of you." Her words dripped venom. She looked as if she was about to spit at him. Zain leaned back in his chair and regarded her pensively. He could sense that he was walking on thin ice.

Finally, he asked, "And why is that?"

She immediately grew silent. Her eyes dropped down to her folded hands. He started to regret his question, sensing the bottled emotions lying beneath. Possibly, he'd reopened a wound.

Yet he was curious —incredibly so— to know what she'd meant by him being the reason for her disguise. He couldn't begin to guess at the reason.

Would she tell him, or would she choose to keep it a secret? For some reason, Zain had the sense that she was a woman with many secrets to guard.

Maria thought long and hard about how much she should share with him. Like a fool, she'd confessed in a burst of anger and was quickly coming to regret her impulsive behaviour. Would he see it as an insult that she'd chosen to disguise herself as a boy rather than risk being with him? Would he have her flogged for it? She bit her lower lip and started to chew on it, almost in self-retribution. Her fiery temperament was going to prove to be her undoing.

"Well?" he prodded, an impatient note in his voice.

He wouldn't drop the subject now that she'd blatantly accused him. Cursing inwardly, she forced herself to meet his penetrating amber gaze and willed her hands to stop shaking.

Maria told herself that she much preferred a public lashing rather than become one of Zain's concubines and have her honour tainted.

So she told him everything there was to tell. She told him exactly what she thought of him. By the time she was done, Zain's face had morphed into an expressionless mask. It terrified her that she could not read his stony face no matter how much she tried, that she could not even begin to guess what he was thinking.

The peacock screamed again.

"You think I force all my women into my harem?" His icy tone of voice and the chill that suddenly raked over her body should have been warning enough to retreat.

Stupidly, she drawled, "Well, I suppose you bought some of them."

Maria watched in silent horror as his beautiful mouth pulled back in a hideous smile full of malice. His eyes flared. His voice when he spoke washed over her like icy water, "Think me a pillaging, raping, plunderer do you? Well, I've never had to force a woman into my bed before, but for you, my dear, I'm willing to make an exception." The air exploded out of Maria's lungs in a painful burst.

He started to rise.

Instantly, Maria shot up to her feet, sending her chair clattering to the ground. She made a mad dash for dear life. He was atop her before she even managed to take two steps, forcing her to the ground. She opened her eyes to find him lying atop her. She began to protest, but his glowing amber eyes bore into hers, their sheer intensity scorching. The words jammed in her throat. Maria felt her heart about to explode out of her chest.

With that same bloodcurdling, malignant smile, he leaned down until she thought he was about to kiss her, then moved his head a little to the side to whisper directly in her ear, "That's the spirit."

Zain shoved her through an open door –the fourth in a series of doors taking her deeper into the mansion. Which begged the question of how big Zain's mansion was exactly.

"You're crushing my arm; let go of it!" she lied; in reality, his grip was surprisingly gentle, although his demeanour was anything but.

"Silence," he commanded. She glared up at him, failing to notice the approaching figure.

"Welcome back, Master. You've graced us with your presence." Her voice was pure velvet. The lady was the epitome of grace. Her beauty was the kind that never aged, with fair, unblemished skin, long eyelashes and perfectly-shaped eyebrows. Her thick locks fell down to brush against the backs of her ankles. Her hair, although not quite brown, was lighter than Maria's charcoal. She wore a beautiful creamed-coloured dress which accentuated her hourglass figure perfectly. She had never seen better tailoring; she instantly grew envious. She had never gotten the chance to wear something quite like it.

Although she'd spoken to Zain, her eyes were trained on Maria. She noticed that the woman's hazel eyes contained golden specs in them. They had an element of matureness to them that hinted at her mature age, though she looked not a day older than thirty.

"Good evening, Shahrazad. I hope you and the girls are faring well?"

So, she was named after the famous character from One Thousand and One Nights.

Fitting, thought Maria. She had the wise, well-bred, well-read look to her that the character was so famous for.

"We are fine, thank you for asking. How may we be of service?"

We?

She finally looked around for the first time. By that point, she should've been used to the grandeur that was Zain's mansion, but she was still taken aback by what she saw. To her, it looked as if they'd entered some sort of entertainment room. Harps, ouds, tambourines, lutes and pillows of various colours and sizes were scattered around the carpeted floor, as well as baskets full of all kinds of fruit. The walls were painted a provocative red. A giant, maroon, velvet curtain with golden floral designs sectioned off part of the room. There were no windows.

She slowly started to realise where they were.

Zain released her. She jumped away from him as if his touch singed her and ignored her tingling flesh where his hand had touched —or at least tried to.

He waved a hand at her and said, "I have brought you a new concubine."

The fluid in her spine froze.