Sarim's Scent (13 page)

After another monotonous day, Victoria laid in bed alone. It was almost ten o’clock and Khafil was still not in. She wanted to talk to him and tell him she needed to go to the store and find out how to make friends with the females here. She yawned, exhausted. Why? She didn’t know, when she spent her days feeling sick, eating, and watching television. She closed her eyes and gave in to the weariness.

She felt warm, as if the sun were shining directly on her. The heat felt good to her aroused, neglected, cold body. As the warmth spread over her body, so did the full throbbing energy of sexual heat. Her body was tingling all over. Between her legs felt hot and she felt herself open them and run her fingers between the slick moist lips of her sex. Heat became intense as she continued to caress herself intimately. She gently pinched the hard bud. The rush of hot pleasure became too much for her to bear silently and she let out a moan. Embarrassed at her wantonness, she remembered Khafil was probably lying in the bed and hoped he didn’t hear her.

She waited for her body to stop quivering, wanting to prolong her pleasure as long as possible. Just as she was about to take her pleasure to a new level she felt larger, firmer fingers begin to stroke her. They were ruthless in their quest. They became slick as her wetness coated them. They stroked harder and began playing with the hot, tight bud. Then they were gone before she could form a protest. She felt two thick fingers enter her followed by cool lips tormenting her sex.

The lips ruthlessly sucked and nibbled at her as the thick fingers dove in and out of her wet tightness. Unable to handle the myriad of sensations, she begged for release. Just as she was choking back another sob, her sex clenched and waves of pleasure washed through her as explosive heat ran through her body. She screamed in ecstasy.

Fully awake now, she opened her eyes and bit back a yelp. This wasn’t another wet dream. Khafil was lying next to her, facing her, his intense eyes burning into hers. Blushing and embarrassed, she was about to say something, but Khafil placed a finger on her lips and shook his head. No words were necessary between them. Hunger and his arousal hung thick in the room. His sexual need matched hers. She felt its urgency and the question he was asking. She nodded, unable to do anything else. Her body betrayed her heart and mind, but tonight she didn’t care.

She allowed him to pull her into his arms and give her another deep, scorching kiss, leaving no room for further thought. Her legs parted and she felt her body stretch as she tried to accommodate his thickness. A low moan escaped from Khafil, and she gasped at the unfamiliar fullness. She felt slight discomfort at her body’s attempt to accommodate him. It had been too long. When the pain eased, she sighed in satisfaction and opened her legs wider, accepting all of him by wrapping her ankles around his muscular back. He drove in and out, her body shaking with the fierceness of his plunges. She felt him deep within and her body welcomed him home.

Opening her eyes several hours later, Victoria felt a void inside and immediately knew Khafil was gone for the day. She remained completely still, not daring to move and cause herself to pitch into dizziness as a wave of nausea reared its ugly head. She instead thought back to last night. They had made love several times, not whispering a word to each other, just satisfying their bodies’ savage need for one another. He had used her body hard and she had let him, loving every bit of the abuse he had given her.

How sick. She rolled her head slowly to the side and found the alarm clock. 11:00 a.m. She sighed. She still hadn’t had a chance to talk to Kahfil and ask the questions she wanted to. Maybe tonight, she thought as a yawn escaped her. She was still tired. She closed her eyes, too tired to think. She woke up to knocking at her door. “Hold On,” she called as she got out of bed, too groggy to care how she looked. She opened her door to see two intimidating males standing there. Instead of the usual black her security people wore, their uniforms were a deep burgundy and cream. She stared at them in confusion. “Khafil is not here,” she told them.

The taller one spoke. “We are not here for Visdan Khafil. Tralu Zanhoden requests your presence this afternoon.”

“Afternoon?” Victoria asked, the grogginess disappearing as she realized how late it was. Zanhoden, if she remembered correctly, was Khafil’s father.

“I just woke up and need to get dressed.”

“We’ll wait,” was the solemn reply.

Victoria squeaked out an “okay” and closed the door. She leaned against it and tried to pull herself together. What could Khafil’s father possibly want to meet with her about? She didn’t have a good feeling about it.

Khafil had not mentioned his father wanted to meet her. Khafil didn’t mention anything to her, since they rarely talked to each other. She went in the spacious bathroom to brush her teeth and take a shower. The warm water felt relaxing and soothed the tension strumming through her body. She would go meet with his imperialness, and she would not be intimidated.

She was so intimidated. When she’d left her quarters with the guards, she was feeling under control. When she walked into Khafil’s father’s quarters, she was overwhelmed. The quarters emanated coldness and were huge, decorated in the royal colors, deep burgundy and cream. The furnishings were exquisite. Stunning artwork hung on the walls. She was staring at a portrait of a beautiful woman over the fireplace. She was lovely and looked familiar.

“That was my mate, Millicent, Khafil’s mother.”

Victoria turned around at the sound of the voice.

A tall male with blond hair pulled back into a long ponytail stood several feet behind her. He watched her with cold blue-green eyes and a fair complexion that was almost pale. He could easily pass for Caucasian.

“My name is Zanhoden. I am Khafil’s father.” His voice gave her the shivers. He looked like a man who wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of anything or anyone who stood in his way. She looked at Zanhoden and thought back to the picture of Millicent, Khafil’s mother. Khafil looked like his mother but the personality, it seemed, was all from Zanhoden.

“Hello, I’m Victoria.”

“I’m well aware of who you are,” he responded cold in the same cold tone as his son.

She swallowed her temper. Even though they weren’t on good terms, she wouldn’t embarrass Khafil by replying without thinking.

“My son, who is usually even tempered, has for the last week been irritable, moody, and distracted. What are you doing to him?”

This time her temper flared. “What makes you think I have anything to do with it?”

Zanhoden shot her a piercing look. “You have everything to do with it. His attitude change only happened when you came here.”

“Came here?” she said incredulously.
More like brought here against my will.
“I didn’t ask to come here. I’m here because of the plan you and your son concocted. My going around and being happy as his prisoner isn’t part of the deal.”

“Mouthy as well as brave. I’m sure you’ve been giving my son hell.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” Victoria’s temper exploded, her attempts at cool composure forgotten.

“Unfortunately since you two are mates, you and Khafil have no choice but to deal with each other unless the other dies.”

Suddenly cold, her hand trembled at the implication.

He continued with a smile. She bet he was satisfied with her reaction. “And if something happens to my son, I’ll kill you personally.”

She didn’t doubt it for a minute. He was one cold bastard. Is this what Khafil would become? She shuddered at the thought.

He watched her digest his words.

She was gutsy and attractive. Since she wasn’t a pure blood he wouldn’t have ordinarily picked her as his son’s wife, maybe as a vascany. But no one could deny another Taalib Duma his mate, as decreed by the Darvan Gods. A mate who was a Dalili Nakisisa was favored among the Gods themselves. Khafil had a prize. Zanhoden knew because of his encouragement, Khafil had continued to deceive his mate. If his son had come clean when he wanted, his relationship with his mate would probably be better and he would be his usual self.

Zanhoden continued to study Victoria, becoming aware of the scent of blood, his blood.

“Have you and my son blood-bonded?” he asked harshly.

“N-no,” she stammered.

He sniffed again deeply, cursing himself for not recognizing the cause. Khafil must be seriously distracted. The situation would soon be remedied. Looking up, he found Victoria watching him warily.

“You may go.” Waving his hand, he dismissed her. Quickly turning, he summoned the two silent guards shielding the door.

Not giving her a chance to respond, he watched her being led out of the room.

Zanhoden watched the mother of his grandchild walk out of his quarters. Since Victoria and Khafil had not exchanged blood, her breeding was the only other reason he was able to smell his blood in her vicinity. She and Khafil would have to change their status and become true mates immediately. The Code of Ethics left no choice in these matters. He smiled as he realized his plans to be finally rid Sarim as Abuu and place the Chair of Drumhani with the Imvura Brotherhood had worked out better than he had ever dreamed. He summoned Khafil. It was time to tell his son he was about to become a father.

Sitting at the council table, deep in thought, Khafil was blown away by what his father had just told him. Victoria pregnancy was not completely unexpected but was indeed still shocking. He knew it was a strong possibility, given they were mates and they had been having unprotected sex. He shouldn’t have had sex with her last night. He should have known his mate was breeding.

He cursed himself for his lack of focus on what was important. He’d been preoccupied with the plans for presenting the Imvura case for leadership to the Council.

The Imvuras already had a good case based on Sarim’s transgressions over the years and the fact he, the Imvura heir, and Sarim’s descendant were mates. Now that she was impregnated, it almost guaranteed the Imvuras would be the ruling brotherhood and he would become Abu. Pushing those thoughts aside, his mind landed back on Victoria. They would have to become true blood-bonded mates and go through the ceremony she referred to as an orgy. He had to convince her of the importance of the ceremony and the importance of becoming blood-bonded mates. Becoming bonded was the right thing to do. He could not fathom bringing his child, an heir no less, into the world as a
nafuto
. No child of his would be categorized as a bastard. It was unheard of and illegal. The father of the child could be sentenced to death.

They would bring their child into the world as a mated family unit and work through their obstacles. Becoming blood bonded would change things dramatically between them, however, maybe even easing the obstacles they faced. Rising, he closed the folder on the table. He knew what he had to do.

Someone was shaking her shoulder. “Leave me alone,” Victoria grumbled, her voice still husky with sleep.

“Wake up. We have to talk.”

Opening her eyes at the sound of Khafil’s voice, a voice she hadn’t heard in days, she said, “Whatever,” then closed her eyes and rolled back over.

“Wake up.”

He shook gently again. Maybe if she ignored him, he would go away.

“NOW!”

Victoria jumped up. Frightened by the loud voice she heard, she frantically looked around trying to decide if she was going to run or fight off an attacker.

A deep chuckle made her turn toward a dark figure sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Khafil?” she whispered.

“It’s me.” His somber gaze met hers. “I’m sorry about sending you a mental clap. But it’s important that we talk tonight.”

“This should be interesting since you have been ignoring me for these last few days.” Sitting up, she pushed her braids out of her face before giving him her full attention. “What’s this about?”

“Us.”

Surprised, she peered closer at him. She wasn’t expecting that answer.

Catching her eye, he spoke. “First, I want to apologize to you for everything, lying about being Ivan, using you to get back at Sarim. I know I’ve hurt you.” He stopped, as if waiting for her to say something.

Victoria’s back went ramrod straight with shock. Her heart went into overdrive, beating so loud she thought the sound filled their chamber. Still feeling slightly discombobulated, she couldn’t form a coherent reply. She continued to stare at him. Was he really serious?

“I want to start over.” His intense eyes were pleading. “Give me a chance to prove I’m worthy of being your true mate.” When she still didn’t reply, his frustration became evident.

“Dammit, Victoria, say something!”

She was too scared to hope he was telling the truth. She was tired of all the stress and tension between them. She was tired of holding on to her anger and pain. Just turning it loose and wiping the slate clean would be wonderful, however she wasn’t convinced. This sudden declaration sounded too good to be true. Getting a grip on her runaway emotions, she decided she needed more information. She’d traveled this road before when he was Ivan.

“Where is this coming from, Khafil?” She had to know. Today had been strange, first the impromptu meeting with his father and now this. “You didn’t say anything about this last night?”

“I hate the way things are between us,” he admitted. “I haven’t been able to concentrate. I’ve snapped at quite a few of my brothers. I—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “Your father told me about that when I met with him yesterday.” If Khafil was going to apologize for his actions and admit to his true feelings, she had to do the same. “Khafil, there’s something I have to tell you, something I should have told you awhile ago.”

“No, wait.” He put his hand up, stopping her. “Before you admit anything, let me finish. My father told me he met with you yesterday.”

“He did?” She nodded ruefully. “It was an experience.”

“I know my father can be very difficult,” Khafil added. “He wanted me to tell you he apologizes for being an ass.”

“Why would he apologize now?”

“He realized something toward the end of your conversation.”

“What?”

“Probably the same thing you were about to tell me.”

“What?” she repeated, still not following where he was going.

‘My father smelled his blood when he was talking to you.”

“And ... that means?” she asked, beginning to get annoyed with the conversation. “Spit it out already!”

“Since we aren’t blood mated,” he said slowly, like he was talking to a mentally-challenged person, “Smelling his blood around you can only mean one thing.”