The Desert Lord's Baby (Throne of Judar 1)

Still not daring to breathe, Carmen looked up at Farooq, who was clutching her as if he were afraid she’d dematerialize.

This meant…she had more time with him.

The king went on. “Now the succession is forever settled, you, my son, have to do your duty. I’m more sorry than I could express to ask you to do something I never could. But it’s time for you to enter the marriage of state the peace treaty with the Aal Shalaans demands. I hoped we’d find another way, but it turns out King Atef has a daughter he never knew about from an American lover.”

His gaze on Carmen grew more pained. “I know how painful this is, my daughter, but these are dangerous times, and if you love Farooq and have come to care for Judar, you’ll consent to his second marriage.”

“I—consent…” she rasped, tried to jerk free. Farooq’s grip tightened. And she cried. “Just let me go, Farooq. Everything will be okay when I’m out of the equation.”

Farooq clutched her harder. “I will never let you go, not in this life, and if I have any say, not in the next.” She shook her head, splashing their arms with tears. “I never gave you a mahr, ya rohi. I couldn’t decide on anything to do you justice. I just did.” He turned to his uncle. “Maolai, I’m abdicating the succession to Shehab.”

Farooq felt Carmen go rigid. His king’s reaction was as dramatic. He looked…relieved. And Farooq understood why.

Even though he wanted Farooq to succeed him, he wanted him to be happy more. Wanted Carmen to be happy.

His answer seemed readymade. “I see this is your final decision, so I can only accept it. Just thank Ullah you have spare heirs as worthy as you of being king.”

Carmen jerked out of his hold, in tears. “Are you both crazy? You’re in the middle of a crisis that can change history and you say, I’m abdicating, and you just say, okay? No offense to Shehab, but how can anyone be as worthy as Farooq? I won’t be the reason to deprive a nation of its most magnificent king…” She bit her lip. “No offense, King Zaher.” She turned back to Farooq, the one to clutch him now. “You must fulfill your duty, remain crown prince, give Judar the marriage it needs. I take it back, Farooq, I take it back. I’ll remain yours no matter what happens.”

So there was more. More love. More wonder. Always would be with her. He hugged her off the ground. “Ya rohi, Judar’s only loss today is losing you as its future queen. When I said I’m yours, I wasn’t plying you with exaggerations. I was stating a fact. As unchangeable as my genetic code.”

Her color neared that of her hair. “If you think you’re proving anything to me, don’t. This is bigger than us. I won’t let you do something you’ll regret—”

He silenced her with a kiss before he looked up, found his king watching them, moved but satisfied. He flashed him a smile. “An eznak, excuse me, ya Maolai, while I take this out of here. I believe this will end in a situation unsuited for your court.”

Then he swept her away to their quarters as she protested and sobbed. He sat on their bed, dragged her on top of him, straddling his hips, and quieted her writhing into dwindling resistance.

“How about we make love first then argue later?” he purred.

“No. You must take it back before the king makes it public.”

“Why must I, ya hayati? This is perfect. I rescued the succession from Tareq’s claws. Now Shehab, who has never had a serious relationship and who won’t mind marrying King Atef’s daughter, will take it and her off my hands. I will become his crown prince, if one day he becomes king. I will remain second in line, as I lived most of my life. I’ve done my part for the throne, ya roh galbi. As for Judar, with you at my side—the best princess Judar will ever see—we’ll accomplish great things.”

“But you are the greatest man in the world, ya habibi. You’d be the best king. I think Shehab is great, too, but you, you…”

“I want only to be king of your heart.”

Her weeping spiked. “Oh God…twenty-five years without shedding a tear, then I meet you and a lifetime accumulation floods out whether I’m happy or devastated. Now I’m both.” She collapsed against his heart. “How is it possible that you love me as I love you? What have I ever done to deserve so much? How can I deserve it?”

“Just by being yourself, ya rohi. The most giving woman and mother, the most stimulating companion and the most addictive lover. No man, royal or otherwise, has ever dreamed of so much.” He spread her on the bed. “About the addictive lover part…I need another fix…”

Hours later, he was lapping water over his armful of savagely pleasured and satisfied woman, murmuring his own pleasure into her clinging lips, over and over.

He’d finally convinced her that his abdication hadn’t been an option but a necessity. Becoming king had been a duty, something he could relinquish. Being hers was his destiny.

“So what do you think of your mahr?”

She sighed her breath and taste into his mouth, the essence of love and satisfaction. “You had to go overboard, didn’t you? Everything has to be world-shaking with you, doesn’t it? I ask for one tiny clean slate, and you give up a throne for me.”

He chuckled. Only his Carmen could talk like this, only her words could make him feel like that. Invincible. Unparalleled. Blessed. “I take it you are impressed with my efforts?”

She traced patterns over his heart with fingers and lips. “If I was more impressed, you’d have to jump-start my heart.”

“I trust you’ll show proper awe and gratitude for the next sixty years or so?”

“You can certainly trust, ya habibi.” He knew nothing more certainly. That he could trust. Her. With his life. With everything. “And you know how inventive I can be.”

“Indeed. I’m breathless to see, to experience, to thank the fates for your next brainstorm. Start inventing.”

She twisted in the slickness of water and bubbles, gliding over his flesh, inventing new erogenous zones for starters, then proceeded to invent new reasons to love, new reasons to live.

As he knew she always would.