She jumped to her feet with a surge of violent energy. His wives might have had no choice but to obey him or be held down by a guard while Amir raped them, but not Nightshade.
“Tell me, did you have to force your other wives as well?”
He waved a hand in the air, as if knocking away an annoying fly. “Just ask them how much pleasure I bring them. They cry out my name.”
“I’ve never lain with a man before.” She peered at him from beneath her lashes, pretending to contemplate the idea.
Unrestrained desire filled Amir’s expression. “Let me teach you the wonders of the body.”
Nightshade slinked closer, gracefully easing to her knees on the edge of the mattress. She brushed her hand across his cheek and threaded her fingers into his coarse black hair. “I am curious.”
She leaned forward as if to kiss him and reached under the pillow only to find her dagger missing. In a surprisingly fast move, the Sheik's hands shackled her wrist in a crushing grip. “You don't think each of my wives hasn't tried that before?”
“Let me go now.” She yanked, attempting to free herself, but he held strong.
“I tried to give you time and ease you into this, but my patience has run out. You would do well to resign yourself and learn the honor I bestow upon you.”
He yanked her across his chest, and suddenly his hands were everywhere, grabbing her, touching her, crushing her against his grotesque body. When she felt his wet lips brush against her neck, her stomach revolted.
This wasn’t part of the plan at all.
Blood pumping, Nightshade fought off the natural response to panic and forced herself to remain still, allowing him free rein of her body. As soon as he relaxed his grip, she inched toward the knife under the rug, near the head of the bed, unfortunately putting her chest in alignment with his face. The Sheik groaned and a great shudder shook him as he buried his face in her cleavage. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt.
In a frenzy, the Sheik ripped her top down. She felt the cool air on her breast a second before his lips closed on her nipple, drawing painfully.
Nightshade, flushed hot with rage, screamed at the violation. Reflexes in full throttle, she plunged the knife into his neck. Amir’s grip went slack and he dropped to the bed, his hand clutching his throat with a gurgled moan.
Shaking, she ran to the washbowl in the corner of the tent and scrubbed her skin, trying to remove the remnants of his disgusting touch. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the forced vulnerability. She’d never desired a man’s touch. Never allowed any one to touch her.
Amir gurgled and groaned again. Nightshade turned in time to see him heave off the bed and slam to the ground, his face frozen with shock. She knelt at his side and yanked the knife out, savoring the rush of power as she slowly wiped the blood from her blade on Amir’s robes. “You’ll neverbestow your honor onanother woman.”
What if she had really been her sister, someone incapable of defending herself? Would he be raping her now?
The thought sent a new wave of fury pounding through her veins. She should have let him live longer so she could make him suffer.
“Master?” Abdul called from outside the tent.
Crap.Disguising Amir’s murder would be as easy as covering up a nuclear explosion.
Nightshade dove to the side of the door and pressed her back to the taut material, her knife still wet from Amir’s blood clutched in her hand.
“Master?” Abdul called again.
He wouldn’t be as easy to kill as Amir. She would need to pounce as soon as he came in. Use the element of surprise.
Abdul burst inside, his knife drawn. The tent flap fell shut behind him. Abdul spotted Amir on the ground and gasped.
Nightshade jumped, wrapping herself around his back and pressing her blade to his throat. Abdul jerked, his head cracking into her nose. She weakened for one second and Abdul ducked and flung her across the tent.
“Whore!” He’d have the whole village in here if she didn’t shut him up soon.
She shook off the dull pain and leapt to her feet. Knife still clutched in her hand, she sprang forward, leaving Abdul to leap back or get sliced. He countered, slid sideways and brought his own knife down in a power move that would have sliced her arm off if she hadn’t read him and jerked out of the way. He rounded in a spin and caught her side. Pain sliced her flesh and she grabbed the wound, backing up to gather her wits.
Abdul’s overpowering height and weight slowed him. Nightshade flitted in and out of his reach, slicing him each time, until Abdul stood, dripping blood. In a low tone, she taunted him in his language, “Your precious master will never rape another woman again.”
Abdul roared, knife raised exploding with rage. Exactly like she’d hoped. She ducked under his arms, stabbed her knife upward and danced out of the way. Abdul hit his knees and then plopped face down on the floor, his blood covering the expensive rugs.
Shaking from the rush of adrenaline and the damn persistent weakness that still haunted her from the explosion, Nightshade tied her ripped blouse together and slipped on a black robe, pulling the hood over her head. She strapped the knife to her hip and stepped over Abdul’s dead body to peer out the tent. There was only one other guarded tent. Merc’s.
Looks like I’ll be doing the rescuing after all.
