Page 2 of Mine to Take

He gestured to the tub. “That water will cool off soon, so I would take advantage of it now. The clothes on the bed are for you.” And with that he left the room, closing and locking the door behind him. I inhaled the warm woody incense burning. I dipped my fingers into the water. It was warm. I stripped down and slid in. The warm blanket of water securing me in a momentary cocoon. Maybe there was something in the incense that affected my brain, because for more than a few moments I completely forgot the fact that the man who had drawn this bath for me was one of the world's most wanted terrorists. One of the most violent men on the planet and yet he had stopped a gang rape. He’d noticed the damage my husband had done to me and expressed anger and sympathy.

I put on the traditional long shapeless dress he had left on the bed for me. While the style of the dress left a lot to be desired, the fabric was magnificent. Varying shades of blue flowed throughout the soft fluid fabric which flowed and draped and caressed my body. As shapeless as it appeared on the bed, it was actually, dare I say it very flattering and sexy once on my body. The hijab was a dark blue, I had no idea how to put it on, wondered why I needed to if I was going to remain in this room.

I stood by the window and looked out at the sun-parched land and varying outbuildings that make up this compound. Chaz had already offered me up to Farid. Was this his way of taking him up on it? How crazy is it that I felt safer locked in a room in the compound of a terrorist than I did with my own husband.

I turned at the sound of the key in the door.

“Still plotting your escape,” he smirked.

“The opposite actually. Thinkingmaybe I should make the most ofyou drawing me baths and bringing me clothes.”

He had not expected that answer and I had not expected the smile it elicited. A brilliant toothy smile that filled those deep brown eyes with warmth. “And food,” he set the tray he had carried in with him on a small table.

He leaned back and kicked out his long legs as he sat in the chair opposite me at the table. His dark hair was generously flecked with gray, as was the close-cropped beard surrounding his full lips. His eyes were a dark smoky quartz and added to the rest of his dark features and imposing height, he was intimidating, even terrifying I'd guess when he wanted to be. He took command of any space he entered and when he spoke everyone listened. But with me in this moment, those eyes sparkled. I had to remind my internal sensors that this is a terrorist. Danger. Danger. Danger.

But my body was beginning to have other ideas. Responding to that smile with a flutter deep in my gut.

He grinned as I began to devour the food. I hadn’t known how ravenous I was until the first bite hit my tongue. He poured a glass of water, taking a drink from the one glass in the room himself. The water flowed down his throat. It caused me to pause mid-bite, my eyes lingering on his dark skin, drinking in the movement of his Adam’s apple. Topping the water off with the pitcher he slid the glass over to me. A flutter hit my belly again and my breath hitched for just a second as I savored the idea of placing my lips where his had just been.

“Do you need anything?” He asked in that deep, soothing voice. His English was perfect and perfectly laced with that clipped Middle Eastern accent.

I raised my eyebrows wondering if this was some sort of trick question. My last three wishes or something.

He smiled reading my internal war on my face. “Medically. Are you injured?”

I exhaled and shook my head. With that he stood and left me alone with my meal and conflicted thoughts about him.

It was hours, it seemed, before he returned. His mood was serious, he was distracted. I wondered why he was doing things for me that certainly he had other people for. If he was worried about the men, certainly he had women he could have watch over me. So why was he doing this himself?

“I don't know how to do this,” I said picking up the hijab. “I assume you want me to wear it.”

“Yes, it is best if you do. You don’t need to in here, but when we are out.” He walked to me, his earthy scent filling my nostrils again and stirring things inside my core. Gracefully taking the fabric in his large hands, he wrapped it softly around my head, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing my neck as he circled the fabric around it causing my breath to quicken. I tried to pay attention to what he was doing, but I’d lost myself in his scent and the proximity of his hands to my skin. He paused after he finished, fingers resting lightly at my collarbone. I craned my neck to look at him. “Beautiful,” he whispered to himself in Farsi.

“Thank you,” I said feeling my cheeks redden.

He chuckled. “I forgot you area translator.”

His phone rang and the moment was over. He disappeared out the door, I heard the extra click of the lock and he was gone.

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