Page 8 of Dirty Wild Sultan

“No.Idid.” I forced out those words, holding the freezing sword in my hand.

I wouldn’t let Khalid live with the blood of our father hanging over his head all his life. I would take the blame. I would get executed, knowing my brother and sister were safe.

His eyes widened, knowing what I was doing. Zara held my palm, her big hazel eyes gleaming with tears as she stared between the two of us. At least she wasn’t hurt.

“It’s okay, Khalid. Take care of Zara,” I whispered, hearing the rush of footsteps coming towards the room.

Rahim opened the doors and before I could say anything, I heard a whisper and a shuffle, the sword being taken from me.

Khalid stood before me, my eyes wide with fear and shock when he said, “I did this. I killed my father. The Sultan of Azmia is dead.”

* * *

Khalid looked at me,his head shaking. “You know you don’t have to do all of it by yourself, Zain.”

“You have done enough, Khalid, I don’t want to—”

“Do you blame yourself for what happened?” he asked.

Zayed took a sharp breath, standing up and knowing what we were talking about. He knew what had happened. He had followed Rahim that night and had seen everything.

I bit out, “You don’t know what or how I feel when it comes to marrying and having children of my own.”

“You are deflecting the subject, dear brother.” Khalid took a step towards me, “You are not your—”

“You don’t know what it feels like to be the Sultan, Khalid,” I said, stopping whatever he wanted to say, pushing his shoulder as I walked past him and out of the room.

I didn’t want to end up like my father. I didn’t want to hurt my wife, my children and turn out to be like him. Or something worse.

The heady sound of the music made me feel present as I made my way downstairs. I needed something strong to drink. I needed to forget about that night. The scared expressions of Khalid and Zara. The guilt of not protecting them when they needed me the most. I needed to forget everything. Especially the pressing weight of getting married and siring children for the crown.

I weaved my way through the crowd to reach the bar. The club was more crowded than ever, everyone celebrating Zara’s nineteenth birthday. Speaking of my sister, where was she? She had told us she would be in the club. Maybe I should check up on her first—

“You look so sexy,” I heard a man slur, hiccupping when he tried to wrap his arm around a beautiful brunette dressed in a gorgeous black dress. Her golden skin glowed under the club lights.

“I am not interested,” she said clearly, her voice sultry. Honeyed.

My palms started sweating. I frowned, looking at them. I hadn’t even seen her face, and I was getting nervous. Shaking my head, I continued on my way, trying to ignore her when I heard the drunk man's words that made me stop dead in my tracks.

“Then why are you dressed like that?”

I spoke while walking towards them, “Because it’s her body and she can dress however she wants.” I glared at him, my voice loud and clear, “Leave before I call security and have you arrested.”

He took a step back. “Who are you to step between us? I was just asking to dance with her.”

My body hummed with satisfaction of fear that I was about to get when I parted my lips to answer his question. “I am the—”

But I never could finish my sentence.

“He is my husband, right, darling?”

4

Nasrin

Ilooked at the lavish interior of my hotel suite. Being a Princess of Maahnoor, I could afford to stay in a suite. The chilly breeze from the balcony ruffling my hair, laughter and music echoing in the city below. I averted my eyes to the suitcase beside the vanity. It was open, barely unpacked after arriving in Azmia for a night, using the ticket Imran had gifted me.

I ran a hand down my face, tucking the strands of my hair behind my ears. I needed to calm down and think. Be smart about the whole ridiculous ordeal. There must be a loophole.

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