Sassiebone: Thanks again ^^. Well yes the story is slowly coming to an end, but not anytime soon. There are a few more chapters to publish :).
MoonBard: LOL I can't believe you binge read my story, I am extremely flattered, thank you ^^. Well if you enjoyed the steaminess that is Khan/Zahara then you will more certainly enjoy this chapter ;). Aw. I am pretty invested in my original characters too. Hurting Orlando was particularly difficult for me :( He was a favourite.
AvalonTheLadyKiller: I love the little predictions you present, but I can't tell you if you are close or not. I want to keep everything under wraps so you are all surprised :D Thank you so much for your input. Always looking forward to it.
This is one of my favourite chapters ;). Please review.
xx
SSC
Khan felt no sense of accomplishment.
He had managed to take over an entire country and its resources in a manner of hours. He had played the game and won. The Sheikh was no longer a threat. U.A.E was finally theirs.
But there was no sense of pride in his chest. After all, the price was high.
Orlando continued to sleep. His scars had healed but he still slumbered peacefully upon his bed. Suzette had taken it on herself to personally monitor his condition and provide Khan with a weekly report.
The latest report was very informative and he was hoping it would bring solace to Zahara.
Zahara dealt with regret for her actions the same way she dealt with all her emotions. By shutting every out. Including him. Even with his patient solicitude and unwavering presence did not coax her to open up to him. She did everything with a deafening silence. Khan could see her drowning, yet he could do naught to help.
As he traversed to their room with the news in mind. He hoped that it would help. But when he arrived and searched the room. She wasnt there.
Her lack of an appearance bothered him but it wasn't shocking. She had been missing from time to time, taking on whatever work she could to avoid her own turbulent thoughts. The missions were mainly involving the rest of her kind.
Turns out Khalifa had a far bigger operation than they had imagined. the Sheikh and Khalifa had been the main money backers for the Wahash project. Ideally the ruler would have funded the entire project but Khalifa had not wanted his Highness to have full authority.
So it had been a joint venture. But according to the accounts Joaquin had collected and a prediction of Khalifa's moderate background. The man did not possess the sufficient finances to fund his half of the project. So he had sold as many as he could to interested third parties and black markets.
Anything to expose the savagery that are the Wahash to a boarder market.
Khan remembered the lack of a reaction from Zahara when Joaquin had reported to them. She wasn't surprised by any of what she had heard. Khan had placed Joaquin in charge of taking a task force to the locations and ending the slavery. Zahara demanded to be part of it and Khan granted her that. After all, Khan loved watching his enemies taste irony.
Zahara had left for each mission trembling with rage and returned sated and still. But the relief was never temporary.
Khan didnt know how long he had been staring at the empty bed for. But it was no longer a consequence when a panting Joaquin rushed into his chambers.
"Khan." He gasped out from under the frame of the entrance. The frustrated Captain turned to his second in command with a sharp gaze full of question.
Joaquin's expression was grim and harsh as usual, but there was a knot of worry between his eyebrows.
"We have a problem."
Khan immediately knew, Zahara was the cause.
Khan, Joaquin and a small team of five Augments went in search of Zahara.
Her trail led them to the slums of Jebel Ali. A fish market by the Arabian sea. The place stank of rotting fish, copper and cat piss. The noises of the yelling salesmen and equally thunderous buyers, polluted the air and only seemed to worsen the further they travelled.
They ventured through the crowds. Khan had no time to be shoved and pushed by random strangers. He had to find her, soon. Just a simple nudge from him to various directions was enough to clear a path but people naturally stepped out of their way.
Khan didn't know if it was their more than obvious foreign looks or whether everyone knew who they were.
The Arab crowd within the fish market was a lot rowdier than the what he was accustomed to in the cities. They were shabbily dressed in dark colours that were ridden in sooth and other unappealing stains. Their complexions were darker and harsher and most of them were men.
They only reactions they received with severe scowls or averted eyes of dread.
The sound around them deafened when Joaquin led them down a narrow alley way that stank of A/C water mixed with sewage. It was a repulsive smell that even creased the passive mask Khan supported.
The evening sun did not reach those parts of the streets. Khan was guided to a sharp turn that led to a dim passage. They were swallowed up by the darkness and the only guide they had, was the harsh screams and guttural chanting.
There was a large crowd of men that took up the entire space of room. They were all frantically pushing and shoving in an attempt to see something within the center of the undersized room.
Khan and his crew pushed their way through and finally arrived at the edge of a barricade of some sort. It prevented him from moving any further and he was forced to lean over and watch just like the thousand other angry men with stacks of money in their hands.
It was a fighting ring. The pit lay ten feet beneath them and between all the chaos, stood Zahara.
Joaquin had warned Khan (before they left in search for her) that she had gone rogue when she heard of the fighting pits in Jebal Ali. The ones that had made sport out of the Wahash and pinned them against each other. The news had sparked something dark and vengeful within her and she had taken off.
Khan watched her now. Her black uniform had several tears that exposed her bronze skin beneath. Her hair was matted to her face from blood that Khan was sure wasn't her own. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly at each harsh breath. Her eyes, were a swirling molten menace. What made them all the more terrifying was the crooked grin across her face.
Below him was no longer the woman that feared the darkness within her. The women he saw in that moment, embraced the demons within her with every fiber of her being.
And she was loving it.
It took him a while to notice the fallen bodies around her. From the tan skin similar to hers, Khan knew they were all her kin. Some struggled to bring their feet under them and the others were completely knocked out. But they were all alive.
Which meant, she was still in control of whom she killed. But it didn't mean she hesitated to inflict pain.
A carnivorous growl pierced the chanting of the engrossed viewers.
Khan's gaze turned sharply to the left. It was a male Wahash, shirtless and all that kept him modest was the tattered brown long pants he wore. His muscular torso was rippling with power. He was crouched on all fours and ready to pounce.
Zahara had her eyes fixated on the snarling creature. She seemed a lot more dignified than her opponent. She barked out something in Arabic that sounded like a warning. It was hard to hear but Khan could only assume from the tenseness in her face. But the man attacked anyway.
It wasn't long till he was another unconscious form at her feet.
"From what I gather, she was the one who had challenged the owner." Joaquin yelled above the boisterous audience.
"Who is the owner?" Khan demanded loudly whilst searching for a man in power.
"Scattered. " Joaquin pointed to several limbs oozing with blood that were thrown about within the pit.
"The rest of him is the obvious shade of red she is supporting." the Iranian added with a hint of amusement across his stern expression.
"You can't say she doesn't know how to entertain." A random female Augment within the team noted, earning grunts and nods of agreement from the others.
Zahara had no intention of stopping. At some point in Khan distraction, the owners of the venture had begun to send their own staff. Desperate to end her destruction. It was a little pathetic to watch them scream and die several times over.
"End this, now." Khan ordered to Joaquin and the rest of his followers "We are taking all the Wahash with us."
"All of them?" A younger Augment male asked.
Khan shot him a silent, stern look that immediately dissipated the defiance in the young man's eyes.
The Augment leader turned away and grabbed the edge of the barricade with one hand. Using the metal ring for support, he jumped over it and landed gracefully on the surface beneath.
Zahara's attention was on the man she had in a head lock. The stranger was on his knees, facing Khan. She was behind the man, supporting his skull in the crook of her elbow while her other hand held it there.
The Arab man was struggling to stay conscious. His face was turning an alarming shade of purple and the fight in his arms was dying out.
"Zahara." Khan called firmly.
Her head snapped up, her eyes filled with blood lust finally focused on him. The snarl she was supporting began to soften to a look of shock. She wasn't expecting his presence, but after a moment of processing, she didn't seem surprised by his arrival.
He stared at the Wahashi, dead in the eyes.
"Enough."
She stilled and Khan from the way her shoulders slumped a little, he thought she would release her victim
She did, in death.
They carried a cloud of tension between them the entire way back to the palace. The rest of the Augments were unfortunate spectators of the stress and didn't dare voice out their thoughts.
Khan marched back to his room with Zahara silent at his side. His teeth ached a little from the all the gritting he had done. The moment they were behind closed doors, he felt a little more at ease.
After taking a deep breath, Khan decided to acknowledge her presence, considering he had been ignoring her for the past hour. He turned to address her to find her staring at him from beside the flower vase in the foyer, a good five feet away.
"You are furious with me?" She asked, her face still caked with blood. He expected the question to sound nervous, but there was no indication. He knew, she wanted him to be angry.
"No." He uttered lowly.
"Yes you are, I can see it in your eyes." She observed with a defiant spark in her golden gaze "You are furious, I had disobeyed you. Told no one of my plans and I went looking for a fight and—"
"Why were you looking for a fight?" He cut in austerely.
She fell silent, seething.
"They had Wahash's battling each other." She said firmly. Khan's frown deepened and he took a step towards her.
"You could have just rescued them instead of arrogantly placing your skills as a fighter as a wager to win." He reminded strictly.
An unapologetic smile curved her lips as she lifted her chin arrogantly.
"They were not so keen on losing."
Khan stared at her, annoyed by the deflection she presented with her entire being. He knew it was all an illusion and Khan was slightly insulted by how obviously she attempted to manipulate him.
"What is this really about?" He demanded.
It was her turn to frown. She was growing frustrated, it was clear from the tenseness in her posture and the fire in her eyes. She couldn't coax the reaction she wanted from him.
"Why are you not more furious?" She asked flatly "I put your people in harm's way."
"Zahara." He sighed, she flinched. As if the way he had whispered her named licked her skin and brought out something benevolent within her.
"What happened to Orlando isn't your fault."
"That's not what this is a—"
"Yes it is." He interrupted.
"Let me finish." She growled her eyes flashing in aggravation determined to fight for dominance. Khan did not give her room to breathe and immediately invaded her space in a long stride.
"You can argue all you want, but I know what you want and I cannot give you that." His voice was considerably softer, determined to make her see reason "I cannot punish you for something you did not do."
"Yes I did. It was his blood on my hands."
"You had no control—"
"I should have!" She bit back her arm making a wide angry motion of dismissal.
"You broke me from it to avoid that particular end yet it happened anyway. I have taken away one of your most esteemed colleagues yet there is no consequence to my actions?"
There was a sudden cruel intensity in her features. A darkness in her gaze he had never seen before, it was mocking, it was malicious.
"Are these the decisions of a great leader?" She spat hatefully.
Khan bristled, his jaw muscles clenched as he continued to suppress his rage. The woman knew how to rile him up like no other.
"You must think me a simpleton to be baited by your words." He growled low, towering over her. She raised her chin and faced him head on, she didn't fear the rage that threatened to leave him. She wanted it, she needed it.
"A great leader sees the right and wrong and the only wrong thing here is your inability to deal with reality." He quoted, leading up to a bombshell of a point "This isn't the Appello and I am not your disciplinarian."
His statement hit her deep. She winced and her eyes widened in hurt and mortification. Khan immediately felt a wave of regret but he knew he had to say it. It was all he thought about the entire way back. The root of her actions dawned on to him at each passing minute they had spent in that tense silence on the returning journey.
He watched her carefully. Expecting her to turn her claws on him, but she didn't. Her shoulders slumped forward and her body abruptly slackened and she leaned back into the edge of the table behind her. As if rage as the only thing that kept the tiredness at bay.
She lowered her gaze to the floor, much like a contrite child. A deep shuddering breath left her lips and she raised her eyes to his once more. Khan was caught under the glistening vulnerability in her stare.
"How can you look at me and not see me as the monster that I am?" She murmured, confused and desperate for an answer.
Khan felt a pressure in his chest from being under the watch of her woeful gaze. He had to turn away for a moment to gather his words and resist the urge to embrace her.
"Because I see you the same way I see Orlando." He began to say.
"Damaged?" She countered. He fixated his frost blue orbs on to her.
"A victim."
She fell silent again, but there was no longer a defiance in her. Khan knew, he had finally reached her.
She brought her blood stained hands on to her lap and stared down at the dirt beneath her nails. Her expression was pensive and her eyes were dazed.
"I'll always have this need, it will never go away." She mused wryly. He stepped to her and she raised her head to look to him.
"We all have that, but you need to see it as a gift than a curse." He said wisely "Focus it on your enemies, not on yourself."
She didn't argue, she did however see him in a new light. As if the knowledge her bestowed upon her, blew her mind.
Khan held her stare and the tension that was on spiraling in the air around them, had calmed. It was a peaceful silence and there was no longer an antagonism in her stares directed at him. They were a soft golden once more, the subtle kind way they are around him.
He was grateful, she was coming back to him. It was a snail's pace but it was still progress. He was tempted to touch her, but he felt a shocking sense of insecurity. He worried that if he did, she would slip back into her defenses.
He fisted his hands at his sides and glanced at the open door to their room.
"I had the servants run a bath." He announced.
She shot him a look of question, wondering briefly when he had the time to command servants. When he smiled mischievously it dawned onto her that he had predicted his roughhoused appearance before hand.
"Fine." She grumbled and rose to her feet. Khan stepped back and allowed her to pass. He observed fondly as she languidly walked into their chambers. After a moment, he pursued her.
Khan made himself personally in charge of cleaning up the female. Zahara had no objections and had already begun to strip, but she struggled to bring her shirt over her head.
He immediately began to assist her. It was her hair that was the main obstacle. The mass of unruly curls, matted with blood, sweat and filth. Refused to easily release her top over her head. Khan carefully maneuvered the heavy material so as to not injure her.
As he did this, he remembered the news he wanted to utter to her that afternoon, before the incident at the fighting pit.
"Suzette discovered something very interesting about the wounds inflicted on to Orlando." He noted.
"I thought you wanted me to forget about what happened." Her muffled voice responded from underneath the clothing. Khan finally managed to remove the top and tossed the soaking material to a side. It hit the floor in a ungraceful dump.
Zahara straightened back into her full form and then began to climb out of her pants. Her hair rained down over her face and Khan waited patiently for to finish.
"There were several claw marks across his chest, back and neck and he bled out." Khan announced.
"Yes I know." She murmured softly, still not looking up.
"But not as heavily as you think." He added.
She kicked away her pants and stood before him. Her naked form usually stirred arousal within him but it was hard to desire her when she was bathed in blood and dirt. But she wore it well, unfazed by her savage state.
Khan's attention briefly wandered to the objects on the floor behind her. He had ordered a short stool and two buckets of water. He walked past her and to the pails. The hot water within the tub remained untouched to their left.
"Then why is he still unconscious?" Zahara asked, her voice echoed within the space.
"A coma from a blunt force trauma to the back of the head." He said as he picked up the buckets by the handles and made his way back to her. "There was a second soldier present to protect Khalifa, there was Orlando's DNA on the butt of his gun. Suzette's hypothesis is the man had surprised Orlando with the object and knocked him, he suffered and concussion which made it harder to fight you off."
Zahara was processing the information but her eyes were wide stun.
"What are you saying?" She demanded.
"The damage you had done was minimal. You said it yourself that you had tried to fight it and you did Zahara. For the most part. Orlando's coma isn't your fault, not entirely at least."
"But I still hurt him." She bit back.
"Also, not your fault." He added calmly.
She frowned, her glare seemed more fierce due to the dark streaks of blood.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"You weren't ready to hear it." He said, referring to their argument from earlier "Besides, I only discovered it moments before Joaquin informed me of your whereabouts."
Her glare softened, it was no longer condemning. But she seemed lost, unsure, struggling with her turbulent emotions.
Khan settled the bucket in his right hand on to the floor beside his feet. He gripped the other pail tightly in one hand, as if weighed a feather to him. He reached out with his free hand and gently placed it a top the curve of her shoulder. This grabbed her attention and she reluctantly looked to him from beneath sandy lashes.
"I know you don't like to hope and given the experiences you had I understand." He said gently, empathetic "But I believe that Orlando will come back. Obviously the dancing ladies in their coconut shell bikini tops and straw skirts, on the island he is currently lazing about in his subconscious, continues to distract him."
She sharp blast of air left her nostrils in a snort. He was prideful of the smirk he had coaxed from her.
"Your interpretation of his dream world is surprisingly modest." She mused smiling up at him "I don't believe the women would be wearing any clothes at all."
"True." He added with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
He grinned and brought up the bucket and before she could protest, he abruptly dunked the contents on to the top of her head. The water gushed down her body, forcing the tendrils of her hair to flatten from the pressure and washing away most of the filth.
"That is cold." She gasped out, shivering before him and folded her arms over her chest in a frantic attempt to trap heat.
"Water turns cold when neglected." He stated like it was the most obvious thing.
"But I—" He dumped the second bucket of water on to her.
"Stop that!" She spluttered out, glaring furiously from between thick strands of her hair.
"I despise it." She hissed, her eyes flashing in annoyance. He smiled, unaffected by the threat in her stare.
"The water in the tub is warm." He said, tilting his head in the direction of the ceramic basin.
She frowned but uttered no objection. Khan watched her walk towards the tub, he was unable to take his gaze away from her shapely rear.
A shudder of lust passed through him as she descended into the waters, one foot at a time.
But he pushed back his rising need and brought his own shirt over his head.
"You're joining me?" Zahara questioned and moved a side as Khan climbed into the waters behind her.
"More efficient this way."
Zahara did not pay much attention to his poor excuse and remained hunched over her knees till he settled after her. Once Khan was comfortably positioned with his legs spread to the sides. He pulled her towards him from the shoulders. She hesitantly obliged and tensely leaned back into his chest.
After a moment she relaxed against his hard, warm body and allowed the waters to soothe her. Khan reached out to the edge of the tub on his left, where a puny bottle of essential oils. It was the citrus scented one that he loved to smell on her skin. He applied a few drops into the water.
Zahara watched the action with a wide eyed fascination, following the movements of his hands.
"So you just lay in here?" She asked curiously.
"Yes." He answered as he returned to the bottle to its rightful place.
"Then what's the point of that?" She questioned, pointing up to the shower head on top, in front of them.
"That's a faster way of cleaning and to conserve water." Khan responded. His frame was comparatively larger and didn't fit as well as she did within the small space. He had his arms rested on the curve of the tub. His attention was grabbed by the top of her head. He brought his arm towards her and began to comb his fingers through the roots of her wet hair.
"This is more relaxing and you need to learn to relax." He murmured feeling her tension melt away as he untangled her tresses between his slender fingers. He found fascination in watching her unwind. She had her eyes shut, her long wet lashes fanned over her the apples of her cheeks. He admired the bountiful freckles that littered the bridge of her flat nose.
"Besides." He whispered wrapping his other hand around her middle and reveling at the press of her soft skin.
"I haven't felt your body against mine in a while." The longing in his voice did not escape her notice. Her eyelids swept open.
"How long has it been?" She asked, her voice raspy with desire.
"Three weeks." He spoke, his lips pressed to the shell of her ear. He felt that same shudder of desire pass through her and it seemed to make the waters ripple.
She raised her head and craned her neck to face him. Their gazes met, the heat in her eyes robbed him of his voice and awarded it to his heart. He could hear the pulse between his ears and against his chest.
"Feels longer." She whispered staring deep into his eyes.
Khan's gaze dropped to her lips. They were glistening temptingly, an alluring effect of the wet skin. He leaned forward with the intention of kissing her only she beat him to it. When their lips met, it was electric.
Khan hadn't felt such a jolt of desire that was so powerful. He was consumed with passion and his body seemed to know just what to do.
He cupped the side of her face in a tentative yet demanding hold. Her hands gripped his forearms, across her chest and held tightly, her nails digging into his skin. He explored the crevice of her mouth hungrily and her reaction was just as wanton.
He pressed the padded base of his thumb, into her jugular. He felt her racing pulse beside the jutted bone. She didn't seem to mind the pressure and continued to taste him eagerly.
She moved against him, it was when her elbow lightly nudged him that he broke from the kiss. It was hard to, he was left dazed and disorientated. She took that as a chance to turn into him. The water sloshed and crashed against the ceramic, a few liters escaped in torrents and clashed with the tiles below.
None of this was of any consequence to him. All Khan could marvel over was her, watching her as she rose up from the waters and stood kneeling between his legs.
Khan stared, afraid that if he blinked, she would disappear. The thick mass of her curls weighed down past her shoulders. A few strands grazed the top of her small, perky breasts. Her skin glistened and was littered with drops of waters. He was mesmerized by the sight of a few drops that trickled down her taut belly along an invisible line to her navel.
She cupped the side of his face, their eyes met once more. She swept her fingers through his inky black strands, combing back his ebony mane.
His hands moved up the outsides of her thighs. She was strong in structure as she was in spirit. His touch trailed up the curves of her body until they rested on her hips. He gripped her tightly and pulled her closer, demanding her warmth.
Holding her stare with a sensuous intensity he kissed the flesh of her hip bone.
Zahara flinched, from the warmth of his lips or the desire in his kiss, he did not know, nor did he care. He licked the moisture off her skin and groaned at the slight citrus taste it held, he needed more and the tub wasn't comfortable enough for what he wanted to do.
"I was going to give you more time, but I don't think I can." He whispered against the curve of her hip.
"Time to what?" She asked, her voice hoarse with desire.
"Heal." He paused to place a playful bite on her skin "Recover. Whatever it is that normal people do after a tragedy."
"You classify me as normal?" She questioned curiously.
"No." He chuckled and raised his gaze to hers. She was watching him carefully.
"I don't know what to classify you as. I've never met anyone like you." His confession softened the desire that angled her features. It was a very obsequious look, one he had rarely received from her. She began to lower herself so she was slightly crouched forward until she had her rear rested on her heels.
"But I thought you might need time." He whispered with a shift in his gaze to express his uncertainty. Zahara smiled slowly, her eyelids heavy with an emotion he did not recognize. The sentiment made her seem gentle, approachable.
She absent mindedly traced his ample lower lip with the tip of her thumb. Khan reveled in the touch. Her eyes followed the movements of her hands.
"I need time." She stated eliciting a moment of disappointment within him. But then her golden orbs with a light again with that same fire he loved to play with.
"With you."
Khan was learning new things about the intimate act of sex. Recollections of when he briefly glanced at a Kama-Sutra book were coming back to him in flashes. Every time he touched or kissed her, he wanted to do things that the manuscript had suggested.
Sometimes it wasn't even the act of taking pleasure that brought him to completion. It was the act of giving it.
His lips moved down the lines of her taut stomach.
The darkness swallowed the room. The only source of illumination that was provided to him was the full moon, gibbous and alabaster on a midnight canvas. It's soft, cold light filtered in through the French windows, outlining her silhouette. He watched her from beneath thin lashes, paying attention to each subtle sign of pleasure she showed.
Khan discovered he liked the feel of warm flesh against his mouth. He liked to nip and nibble on her skin like she had done to him. The act left many marks on her, a purple painless bruise. They would heal quickly and he was irked by it so he did it again, he realized he liked marking her, claiming her as his own.
He kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh, then his eyes swept close and then he lowered his head. The reaction he received was instantaneous. He enjoyed hearing her curse his name and writhe helplessly under intrusion his tongue made. He had to steady her by bracing his hands on her thighs. He could feel the coarse skin of her ankles, pressing into his shoulder blades as he continued to taste her, mercilessly.
He stopped when he had her on knife's edge and sent a wicked glance her way. She was stubborn and refused to give in to what he really wanted. But he toyed with her long enough to hear her beg, just once—it was more of an expletive but he still heard the desperation in her voice, felt it when she clenched his hair in a fierce grip. Then—feeling generous, he took her from the brink of ecstasy and threw her into rapture. She fell in surrender, her body slackening under him.
He raised his head to witness the reactions he had caused. Her skin was sleek with exertion, her expression a daze and her body trembling. He smiled at the sight and kissed his way up her body again, his tongue darting out and tasting her.
His shadow loomed over her. Her eyes squinted up at him and met his gaze. He moved to recline on his side, partly a top her. He rested his elbow by her head, placing most of the weight of his upper body on to his left arm. His free hand went exploring, warming her once more.
His stare narrowed in on those marks once again. They were still the same shade of bleached skin as before. The shape of stars. Bursts of white against her bronze complexion. The others like her had a few. The locations of these marks were random. He traced an individual mark, one under her left breast, his thumb curved over the spot.
"I've noticed your kind have these markings." He said, raising his gaze to watch her expressions.
"Birth spots?" He asked, casually.
"No." She stated plainly.
"No?" He echoed. He watched her carefully. Despite the bluntness in her voice, her eyes told a different story. He learned a while ago that Zahara expressed her emotions through her eyes. In that moment, her usually swirling golden orbs lacked light, they were guarded and distant.
"We had strict disciplinary methods. This is the result of them." She expressed.
Khan didn't realize how hard he was gritting his teeth until his jaw moved to speak.
"These were inflicted on to you?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know the name of it." She mumbled her features scrunched up in thought. She brought her hand up, her fingers loosely curling into her palm.
"But it was small. Hand size, the man held it in a fist and this spark would emerge from it. It burns like a small fire that spreads slowly through you. It takes a week for the pain to dull."
Khan frowned lowering his infuriated gaze to the marks again. He began to count them, alarmed by how many he found, he went up to fifteen.
She combed her fingers through his hair, this grabbed his attention.
"You have many." He stated factually, subconsciously pressing into her soothing touch. The glimmer in her eyes was back, the corners of her lips quirked up deviously.
"I misbehaved."
Khan was amazed by this. His gaze narrowed almost playfully down at her. She stared back defiantly, the fire in her eyes radiated with more than just mischief. It showed him her strength, the ability to endure harsh climates and come out victorious, a superior woman.
"I expect nothing else." He added before capturing her mouth in his once again. She responded eagerly, her fingers clenching his soft hair and tugging in rough play. He groaned against her mouth, the sound reverberated in his chest, eliciting a shiver from her.
He moved atop her, settling between her thighs.
It was his turn to indulge.