“Why do you care about that stupid puncture?” Viviana asked. Her voice was steady, but he picked up on the underlying, barely noticeable tremble to it. “It makes no sense to clean me up only to kill me.”
“I’m not killing you,” he responded without looking at her.
For some odd reason that admission made her breathing grow heavier and her pulse accelerate. He would quickly learn why.
“Are you selling me?” she breathed out. She stammered a bit. “Please just tell me what I’m facing.”
Muhammad reached in the drawer of the nightstand for a bandage and medical tape. He wrapped her arm at the elbow, bit off a chunk of adhesive, and taped the bandage shut. That accomplished, he gave her his full attention—something he shouldn’t have done. His cock grew painfully stiff just gazing into her rounded eyes. God had tinted their color to a beautiful, unique green-blue. He shifted uncomfortably.
“Are you selling me?” Viviana asked quietly.
“No. I am not.”
She gulped. “Really?”
“Wallah.”I swear to God.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip. He could tell she was confused.
“Am I being used in a hostage trade?” she asked.
“Laa.”No.
She blinked. “Then what?”
He decided it would be best to just put the truth to her and give her some time to come to terms with it. Muhammad’s firm gaze clashed with her frightened one.
“You will not be killed, maimed, used as a bargaining chip, sold, or otherwise humiliated. You showed me kindness and I do not repay such acts by committing monstrosities against such a person.”
Her eyes glittered with hope for the first time. “You’re letting me go home?”
Muhammad kept his words steady and deliberate. “Youarehome.”
Her jaw dropped a bit. She quickly closed it then shook her head as if to clear it. “I don’t understand…”
“You belong to me now,” he said matter-of-factly. “Kilik ele.”All of you is mine.
He should have been offended by how close she looked to fainting, but he was too focused to think on it.
“No.” Viviana shook her head. “I—no. That really won’t work out.”
“It has already worked out. You are American no more, you are Dr. Viviana Lincoln no more.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He seized the moment, wanting to finish the conversation. His erection was starting to drip pre-cum so it was best if he left his—their—apartments for the moment.
“You are now Sheikha Viviana al-Raqqah, my bride.”
A myriad of emotions crossed her face, none of them particularly welcomed. Stunned disbelief, outrage, horror, terror—she was feeling the full impact, realizing what he actually did have in store for her.
Her sparkly eyes narrowed. “I will never marry you. Kill me now!” she said grandly. “I willneversay yes!”
Muhammad’s pride smarted a bit, but he was wise enough to place himself in her position. She believed him to be a sadistic monster. Even in the absence of fear, Viviana had not been raised to be meek, demur, and submissive, but to hold the same station in life as a man. Truth be told, her independent spirit was part of her allure.
“I said youaremy bride,” he murmured, “not youwill bemy bride.”
Her breathing hitched and grew heavy again. “No,” she rasped. “That isn’t possible.” Her gaze took on a wild look, much like a tigress that’d been cornered by a hunter. “I would have remembered something likethatno matter how out of it I was.”
“You were never a part of the ceremony.”
