Page 35 of The Moon’s Fury (Moon & Sands #2)

“ W hen will you leave?” she asked one night. They sat by a flickering fire, the remains of their dinner skewered over it. He was adept at hunting, and she’d eaten well since he’d arrived, regaining some of the weight she’d lost.

His large hand smoothed a thick paste—his own concoction of crushed plants and fresh water—over his burns. The puckered, red skin already looked better, and it had only been a week. He didn’t meet her eyes when he asked quietly, “Do you still fear me?”

“I never feared you,” she snapped, the lie passing easily through her lips.

Knowing gray eyes found hers, and she recalled the first day she’d awoken. After he told her what had happened, she demanded he leave. And he did.

Or so she thought.

She had dressed and left the cave in search of food, but three days asleep and months of half-starvation proved too much for her weakened body. She had barely made it to the stream when a wave of dizziness overcame her, and she fainted.

For the second time that day, she awoke back in her cave, unsure of how she’d gotten there. That time, when he handed her the skein of water, she had no sharp remarks.

She met his gaze now—his eyes held a deep, ever-present sadness.

“All right, not fear,” he appeased, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Do you worry I’ll … hurt you?”

“No,” she said truthfully. He kept his distance from her, gave her privacy when she needed it, and slept as far away from her blankets as he could manage. “I assumed you’d stayed because I was weak. And you were waiting for me to recover. I’m fine now.”

He was quiet for a moment. “When I don’t return, they will send more men. You can’t stay here.”

“Who are ‘they?’”

“The real monsters,” he said without hesitation. Something in the hard tone of his voice made her reluctant to ask more.

“Don’t stay,” she said firmly, tilting up her chin. “I’ll find a new home. I don’t need your protection.”

She had expected to ignite his anger, one she’d seen so often in men when women stripped them of masculine purpose. When they had no need for them.

She hadn’t expected him to laugh.

“So you can go back to surviving on berries? Your ribs protruded so far, they nearly took out my eye.”

His teasing words made her flush—a reminder that he’d seen a lot more than just her ribs when her clothing had burned away and he’d carried her back to her cave.

Still, he was right, and she hated it. She hated her weakness and him for calling it out. “Fine. Teach me how to hunt, then be on your way.”

He regarded her closely, gray eyes assessing her in a way that made her feel entirely too vulnerable.

“All right.”

Zar nearly took off Jamil’s fingers as he tried to feed him an apple.

He scowled at the brown stallion. They had been traveling for two weeks now, and the grouchy horse never did that to Soraya.

It was just after dawn, the sun’s first rays slowly waking up the world.

Soraya was still asleep, though Hadiyah had risen about fifteen minutes ago and silently trudged off to relieve herself.

They were two days from Shahbaad. A strange sort of melancholy had taken hold in his chest these past few days.

Would he ever see Soraya again? He tried not to dwell on it, but the thought of never again hearing the lilting sound of her voice, never feeling the warmth of her bright smile, tore through the sinews of his heart.

He heard Hadiyah’s footsteps approaching. But instead of returning to her bedroll, her footsteps grew louder until she was right behind him.

He swallowed a sigh and faced her. Her features were stony, drawn tight as if it sullied her to even speak with him.

“You are not worthy of her.” Her voice was sharp, a serrated dagger eviscerating him. “Not even worthy of the filthy mud caking her boots.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He kept a stoic mask, concealing the cutting pain beneath.

“Do you think me a fool?” she hissed, glancing at Soraya’s slumbering form. “I see the way you look at her when you think no one is watching. I am always watching. And I will die before I lose another daughter to the likes of you. Stay away from her.”

Hadiyah’s words rang through his skull the entire day of travel and long into the night when they made camp.

When Soraya left her place beside her sleeping mother and came to sit with him, even the warmth of her presence couldn’t dispel the chill left by Hadiyah’s icy words.

Not worthy of her.

The likes of you.

Stay away .

“Everything all right?” Soraya asked, jolting him out of his thoughts. “You’ve been quiet today. Well, you’re always quiet, but even more than usual.”

“Yes. Just planning out the journey after Shahbaad.”

She accepted his lie with a quiet hum.

“Why are you helping us?” she asked suddenly. Her dark brown eyes, the color of fresh, earthy soil, were fixed on him. Her gaze drifted to the long, white scar cutting the length of his face from cheekbone to jaw.

He flinched, and she averted her gaze, clearing her throat. “You’re risking your life to take us to Shahbaad. Why?” Her gaze remained fixed on the flames.

“For Zarian.” The half-truth left his lips easily enough. “He needed to get Layna to safety but was worried about leaving you behind.”

“Do you miss the Oasis?”

“No,” he said honestly, this time.

“Is there someone waiting for you? A lover or…?”

His eyes locked with hers, trying to discern the motive behind her question.

“No. I mean, I’ve taken lov—”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said quickly, her face flushing. Her rosy cheeks sent his blood rushing south, his rebellious mind imagining what else might make her blush. “I mean someone you love. Someone you want to get back home to after—after this is over.”

“No one,” he said quietly. “I’ve always taken my vows seriously. No entanglements of the heart.”

Until now.

She sat, quietly staring into the fire.

He thought her interrogation over until she spoke again. “Zarian struggled with his duty to the Medjai,” she began slowly, brown eyes flicking to him. “It took him a long time to choose a different path. To choose Layna.”

He heard the question she didn’t ask.

What made you forsake your duty?

“We have a long day of travel tomorrow. You should go to sleep. I’m about to do the same.”

The next day passed quickly and in somber silence. Hadiyah was the only one who seemed to be in a good mood, likely thrilled to be only a day away from being rid of him.

That night, he waited by the fire for Soraya to come and sit with him, but she didn’t stir. Eventually, he settled down to sleep, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Tomorrow, he’d deliver Soraya and her mother to safety and fulfill his promise to Zarian.

That had to be enough.

He ignored the yearning in his heart.

Jamil had just dozed off, hovering in that hazy, semi-aware space between sleep and consciousness when his body instinctively tensed.

The soft thud of footsteps pricked his ears.

His eyes snapped open.

He didn’t move.

His body tensed, and there was a soft touch on his back.

In a heartbeat, he had the intruder pinned beneath him, forearm restricting airways, hand covering mouth.

Except it wasn’t an intruder.

Soraya’s wide, shocked brown eyes stared up at him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, removing his hands. She sucked in a deep breath, her chest rising to press against his.

Every thought fled his mind.

She panted for air, but he couldn’t find the words to apologize. His mind was too focused on the press of her soft body beneath his, her heaving chest, thighs bracketing his legs. His gaze drifted to her parted lips, and a beautiful flush spread across her cheeks.

“Can you let me up?” she whispered.

“Right. Sorry.” He hastily climbed off her. She sat up, pressing a hand over her heart, as if willing it to still.

“I didn’t come earlier because I wanted to make sure Mama was asleep. I need a favor.”

As if he could refuse her anything.