“What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking that it takes some couples years to be able to pee in front of each other, and we seem to have gotten there real quick.”
He chuckles. “I think we’re into pretty much everything about you,Aziz-e delam,” he confesses softly, and sitting on the fucking toilet, my pants around my ankles, my heart melts a little more for this man.
He helps me up, although I try to tell him I’m more than capable of standing up as it’s my shoulder that’s fucked and not my legs. He just growls, so with a sigh, I let him help, and after I wash up, we leave the beautiful bathroom behind, traveling down the quiet hallway once more.
“Where is everyone?” I ask in a low whisper, looking into archways that lead to dark rooms, not a sign of life to be found. There’s a peaceful serenity about the place, something that has my body relaxing and a small part of me wishing that we could stay here for a little while longer.
“It’s not safe for you to know who they are, and this is more of a place that people can pass through anyway, no one lives here permanently, not anymore,” he tells me, and I look up to see his brows dipped, his jaw clenched so tightly that I pull us up short, just so I can reach out with my hand and stroke the frown away. He closes his eyes for a moment, his face wreathed in shadows, but rather than make him look scary like the shadowed monsters in my nightmares, he’s all the more beautiful for the soft darkness.
“Who used to live here, Tarl?” My heart gives a painful jolt as a suspicion forms in my mind, tickling the edges like an itch that won’t go away.
“My family used to own it.” My breath catches, the beauty of Tarl’s old home seeming so sad, covered in ghosts. “It wasn’t our chief residence, and the authorities never knew about it, which is why it’s still standing at all. But we used to spend some time here with family, friends and what I now know were other members of the resistance.”
“The resistance?” I ask, wanting to know more about his past since I came face-to-face with it hours ago.
He heaves a great sigh. “I told you before about the people who were—are—unhappy with the way they ran Iran. Like most countries, there is an element of corruption in the government, however, here, no one holds them accountable, and there are rumors that the group that took us, for example, are a branch of the government with their full backing and support.” My mind spins with what he’s telling me. I mean, it makes sense in our case, otherwise, how the fuck would they have been able to smuggle two unconscious people out of America if it wasn’t a diplomatic plane? “My parents were part of a resistance group who were trying to fight for more equal rights for the citizens of Iran, not just between men and women, but with other groups who are marginalized. But anyone who is too outspoken is quickly squashed, especially if they are female.” His face looks haunted, and I know, even without all the details, that he’s talking about his mother and sisters. “The fight goes on today,Aziz-e delam, with Iranians of all genders protesting for equal rights, yet a woman can still be imprisoned by morality police for wearing the hijab that has been forced upon her incorrectly, and many have died in prison for that reason or less.”
“Tarl…” My voice is thick as I watch tears slide down his face, landing on my hand and sparkling in the low light from the lamps.
“I am proud of my parents,Eshgham, but sometimes it feels like their sacrifice was in vain because not much has changedsince they passed into the next life.” His shoulders heave, and I can see the torture in his beautiful, mismatched eyes, the yearning for a better world. I know that desire all too well.
“There are monsters everywhere,JigarTalâ,” I say softly, not looking away from his anguish and showing him my own in this peaceful place. “And all we can do is keep fighting, getting rid of them one by one, until one day there won’t be any left.”
“I worry that day will never come,Azizam. That even our children’s children will have to fight for peace,” he breathes out, his words swirling around us in the dark.
“Then new generations of warriors will rise, my love, and we will teach our children to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.” I will him to believe in what I’m saying because thinking that all of this pain, this suffering and unjustness continuing forever is enough to break even the strongest person.
“You are wise beyond your years,Azizam,” he tells me, tears glittering in his lashes as he cups my cheek in his uninjured hand, bringing our foreheads together. “You humble me with your conviction and belief in a better world to come.”
I smile. “It’s alright, old man, I’ll keep you young.” I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing as he holds completely still.
“I see I have another brat to punish,” he whispers, and in the low light of this magical place, in an exotic land, his words send electricity down to my core, lighting me up from the inside.
“I look forward to it,JigarTalâ,” I murmur, and a soft growl falls from his throat.
“Come, if we don’t leave now, I’m afraid I will take you to the nearest surface and fuck you until you can’t draw breath,Koshgelam.” His words are a rasping sound that does absolutely fucking nothing to tamper the fire that’s growing inside me.
“Escape first, fuck later, got it,” I answer, and a bark of musical laughter falls from his lips as he pulls away, placing myhand in his elbow and letting me lean on him while he walks us out of the beautiful house and into the warm Iranian night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“HOLD ON” BY BROOKE ANNIBALE
JUDE
We wait at the stables that Tarl directed us to, our cover story being that we are bringing more horses back with us. It’s the way we will sneak them both back out of the country as well. Aeron has a plan involving a horse box and some new thoroughbreds, and I can’t fucking wait for him to tell our Nightingale that she’ll have to spend the fourteen-hour flight in a horse box with two horses. And Tarl.
Pain lances my chest when I think about him, about the way he didn’t trust us enough to help with his revenge plans, and that he was willing to leave me after all the years we’ve been together. It hurts in a way I didn’t expect, that he could so easily toss me aside when I know he feels about me the same way I do about him; that we were meant to be together. We may not have said our feelings in so many words, but we’ve never needed to, the understanding between us not requiring any explanation.
And I’m not sure I can forgive him for dragging my Nightingale into his mess, one that we could have helped him with and kept her out of, safe and sound. Plus, it pisses me off that I missed out on all the fun. He knows I’ve always played the evil Disney villain to perfection.
Maleficent eat your fucking black heart out.
“Why aren’t they here yet?” My voice has the hint of a whine, and I see Aeron grind his jaw. It might be the twentieth time I’ve asked, and he has accused me of being an impatient child once or twice in the past hour.
“He said around two AM and it’s”—he glances at his watch, also for the twentieth time—“one fifty-seven, so he still has three minutes.”
