LITMIR.BIZ

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her voice soft, firm. “Together.”

      He let out a ragged breath, kissed her neck. “For a while,” he said, his tone cautious.

      He turned the water off, and they got out of the shower. She took a crisp, folded white towel and began to drag it over his skin, erasing the water drops that covered his body. And he stood, allowing her to do it. As she did, she explored the scars that covered him. Memorized them. She felt honored to witness them. To feel them. Part of her wanted to close her eyes, to look away, to pretend she hadn’t seen them.

      But that was wrong. Someone had to see this. Someone had to care.

      And she had to stop being so afraid to care.

      Because she could no longer pretend that caring meant never asking questions, never asking anything of each other. That was benign neglect at best, masquerading as love simply because there was undemanding sex thrown into the mix.

      A sharp pain worked its way through her, starting in her temples and spreading down, the ache blooming in her throat, then hitting hard in her chest. She had loved Marcus. She couldn’t deny that. Not when the loss of him had thrown her into months of darkness, serious anxiety that had been difficult to shake. A feeling of loss and hopelessness that had been very real.

      But she doubted in this moment if she had ever been in love with him. Their relationship hadn’t allowed for feelings that cut half so deep. They had been partners, lovers, but it had been nothing like this. Tarek’s pain lived inside her. Her triumph felt bound to his.

       Do you still think of yourself as with him?

      She flashed back to that question he’d asked her weeks ago during the coronation party. The answer had been simple. And it had been no. Because she had not been a part of Marcus.

      Tarek was a part of her. Whether she was that for him or not, he was for her.

      If she lost him, she knew very well that it would be like having her heart wrenched from her chest. It would be much harder to go on living. And that was the cost of love.

      She loved him.

      She wished, very much, in that moment, that she did not.

      He took another towel from the counter and made it his mission to dry her. And by the time he was finished, by the time he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back into the bedroom, placed her gently on the bed, she knew that whether she wished it away or not, it was true. There had been no protecting herself from this. Nor from the pain that it could potentially bring.

      Her desire to breach his defenses had caused her to lower her own.

      She lay down on the bed, completely naked, unashamed, watching as he lay down beside her.

      “Tell me about your back,” she said, her voice hushed.

      Because she wanted the hard things. Because she wanted everything. Even if it was hard; even if it hurt. Even if it made her vulnerable.

      “I told you. He tortured me.”

      “Why?” she asked, knowing she sounded broken, devastated. Perhaps that wasn’t fair, when he spoke of it so calmly, but someone had to weep for him. It would be easy for her to do so.

      “He said…he said the death of my parents was caused by weakness in the nation. He said I would have to be made strong. He said he did it because he loved Tahar. Because he loved me. He said it was the only way to protect the both of us.”

      “What did he…?”

      He reached out and touched her breast, his thumb gentle as it slid over her nipple. “You are so soft, Olivia. So beautiful. I do not want to fill your head with the things that were done to me. There is only darkness and ugliness there. Nothing more.”

      “Don’t hide from me. Please. I don’t want that. I’m tired of pretending that someone lying next to me means I’m not alone. Especially when I realize that it isn’t true.”

      “I don’t understand. If you’re lying next to someone, clearly you aren’t alone.”

      “No. Trust me. Someone can lie next to you and still be miles away.”

      “Marcus?”

      “This is our bed,” she said, “I mean, this isn’t our bed, it’s the hotel’s. But you know what I mean. I don’t wish for him to be between us.”

      “I understand. But is that what you’re talking about? Answer my question just this once.”

      “Yes. Him. But don’t blame him. I never asked for more. And he never offered. I think he was protecting himself, as I was.”

      “There is certainly wisdom in protecting yourself.”

      Yes, but she was starting to see that she had been keeping herself wounded. Protecting herself from a fatal injury in her mind, but never fully healing the ones she’d already sustained.

      “It’s much better to protect other people, don’t you think? You’ve certainly spent enough of your life doing that.”

      “With a sword. It’s easy to protect yourself while you do that.”

      “I suppose it would be.” She moved her fingertips over his arm, glorying in the feel of his bare skin beneath hers. “My parents didn’t come to my fifteenth birthday. It’s such a small thing compared to this.” She brushed her palm over a raised scar on his arm, continuing, “But it hurt me. Scarred me. Scars you can’t see. Our housekeepers made my birthday cakes. At least I had them. You didn’t, I know.”

      “Olivia,” he said, his voice rough. “My pain does not erase yours. Do not make what is so large for you smaller just because I, too, have suffered.”

      She swallowed hard. “You are…a wise man.”

      “I’ve spent a lot of time alone. I’ve had a lot of time to think.”

      “So you have.” She hesitated. “For my fifteenth birthday I made my own cake. My own dinner. I told my family it would be special. I knew…I knew Emily couldn’t come. She’d been in the hospital for a week. Her platelets were low and…anyway, I just asked my parents to come home for dinner. For my party.” She blinked against a dry, painful stinging in her eyes. “They didn’t come.” The words were a whisper. “I waited and waited. They didn’t come.” She could feel his muscles tense beneath her touch. “I threw the cake away. I couldn’t bear to eat it.”

      “Olivia…” His voice was rough.

      “There’s more. They got home late. And I…I yelled at them. Why couldn’t they spare a couple of hours for me? All I wanted was for them to spend more time at home with me. And my father just looked at me. My mother cried. Then he said…he said it wasn’t like they wanted to be away. They didn’t want to be in the hospital with a dying child. And how dare I want to take any time from Emily when she might die and…I was living. I shouldn’t complain. Everything with them changed after that. It was never the same. Never.”

      “And so you left,” he said. “Changed countries.”

      “Met a man I didn’t want anything from. That helped. He didn’t hurt me because…because I knew then never to demand anything. Never to make waves.”

      “Your parents were fools,” he said.

      “No. They were just in an impossible situation. They are.”

      “Perhaps you feel the need to be fair. I do not. They hurt you. That, in my mind, is all that matters. I judge them by that sin.”

      She took in a sharp, jagged breath, her fingertips trailing over his scarred flesh. “And I will judge Malik by his sins against you.”

      “He had me starved.” Tarek rolled onto his back, his eyes focused on the ceiling. “He withheld water from me. To make me stronger,” he said, his voice rough. “Because I would need to spend much time out in the desert, and there

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