Page 57 of The Moon's Fury

He looked at her as if there was nothing he could deny her.

They strolled back to Najoom, and she waited for Zarian to mount first, but he shook his head.

“You ride in front. Maybe you can take another nap,” he teased with a lazy smirk. She rolled her eyes but obliged him, climbing atop Najoom and scooting forward in the saddle. His solid weight settled behind her, muscular arms encircling her waist.

After ten minutes of riding, Zarian revealed his ulterior motives. He transferred the reins to one large hand and used the other to trace a tantalizing path up her inner thigh. Skimming up to her belly, he traced winding patterns that had her squirming against him. His fingers inched up her side, across her chest for the barest of moments, leaving her a panting mess. Smoldering desire twisted through her, settling low in her core. Teasing fingers traced her collarbone, up the hollow of her throat until he reached her lips. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, until she grew impatient and sucked it into her mouth, bitingdown. His deep groan vibrated against her, and she pressed back harder against him.

The humming of her blood grew frenzied, the buzzing in her ears, louder. Fiery tendrils of need snaked through her veins as he pulled his thumb from her mouth and dragged it back down her neck.

And then his touch was gone.

“You’ve had enough, I think.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she tried to whirl around, but he held her firmly in place. Her breath escaped in angry pants as she struggled against him.

“Shhh, easy,” he whispered in her ear.

He shushed her.

The arrogant, condescending man had actuallyshushedher.

She was seething now, the buzzing in her ears drowning out the sound of the wind and rustling leaves.

“Shhh,” he murmured again. “Don’t fuss. You’re worse than Naj.”

The power inside her writhed, angry and furious, and he held her tighter in response, immobilizing her with his arms, bracketing her legs with his muscular thighs.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he crooned in her ear.

The bright, raging light thundered in her ears, while his words sent purewantcoursing through her. It was a strange, heady feeling, to be so angry yet so aroused.

“I could take you right here, with Najoom galloping beneath us, and you’d let me. You’d love it actually, I think. Naughty princess.” Hetsked.

Layna saw white.

He eased his hold, then, and squeezed her thigh until it hurt, grounding her in the sensation, before rubbing a soothing hand over it. He pinched her leg again, harder this time, and she gasped.

The buzzing in her ears dimmed slightly.

Covering her hand with his own, he guided it to her other leg, tightening his hand around hers until her fingers were digging into her skin. She focused on the pain, the physical sensation—

—and the pulsing in her ears slowed.

She took deep, steady breaths until the raging power inside her quieted.

And then Zarian’s hands began to wander again.

After three days of torturous caresses and stolen kisses, they arrived in Senta, Sendouk’s capital. Her body thrummed with need. Zarian had tormented her relentlessly, not granting her release even when they made camp each night. She was so tightly wound, even the gentle press of his thighs against hers, the solid wall of his chest against her back, set her nerves alight as they rode into the city.

She had to admit that his methods, though unbearably cruel, had been effective. Each time he provoked her anger, it was easier to tamp down on the raging power that threatened to explode. It was comforting knowing she could see her mother and sister without fear of harming them.

Layna drank in the unfamiliar sights: Senta was a large, busy city. The kingdom of Sendouk was known for its unmatched vineyards and flourishing orchards, and Senta was evidence of its prosperity. The streets were paved with neat, square stones and lined with shops and homes and inns. Black and redbanner flags, Sendouk’s royal colors, crisscrossed from rooftop to rooftop, fluttering in the cool breeze.

Intricate flowerpots decorated most street corners. Layna recognized the purplezuhurfrom Alzahra’s gardens, but the drooping white flowers and blue ones were unfamiliar to her. Her mind conjured up Soraya’s smiling face, and a sharp pain radiated through her heart, sudden and suffocating. She squeezed Zarian tighter.

As they trotted through the city, they passed two markets, brimming with fine clothing, jewelry, and other goods, with a third market yet to be seen. Most Sendouki citizens were well-dressed, though there were gaggles of urchins—orphans most likely—darting between them.

It seemed not everyone benefited from Senta’s prosperity.