Page 105 of The Moon's Fury
Soraya inhaled deeply, willing her heartbeat to slow. His hand was warm, pressed flat over her abdomen. How would it feel if he slid it up under her nightshirt?
Or down into her trousers.
She shifted her hips, and his hand tensed over her belly as he groaned, low and deep, the vibrations rumbling through her.
It was going to be a long night.
She tried to banish the traitorous thoughts, tried to think of Almeer and his gentle smile.
But every time she closed her eyes, she saw expanses of muscular, tanned skin and Jamil’s twinkling, emerald gaze.
Soraya awoke alone the next morning, the bed cold beside her. The muffled sound of running water reached her ears—Jamil was taking a shower. She flopped over onto her back and waited.
A few minutes later, he emerged, toweling off his dark curls.
He was wearing a tunic.
She shoved down the disappointment that welled inside her.
“Hi,” she greeted cautiously.
“Morning,” he responded. He didn’t meet her eyes, and she could’ve sworn he was blushing.
It tugged at her heart, and this time, she let it.
They left Sendouk behind and followed the path back to Shahbaad. Ahmar nickered as Soraya brushed him down, firelight dancing over his rust-colored coat.
“I’m going to hunt,” Jamil said from behind her. He didn’t ask if she wanted to accompany him.
“All right.” He disappeared between the trees, spine rigid and footsteps hurried. With a sigh, she turned back to Ahmar. They’dbeen traveling for two days, and things had been stilted between them since leaving Senta.
Since she had kissed him, really.
Or maybe when she had said it meant nothing.
Because it was becoming clear that it certainly hadn’t meant nothing—to either of them.
Jamil had been withdrawn since she’d said it. If it was difficult getting him to talk before, it was impossible now. There was an undercurrent of sadness that ran through his every motion, and it gutted her to see him so despondent.
And she missedhim. The Jamil she had come to know—the softspoken, loyal man who had endured so much.
If Almeer had been traveling with them, would she still have come to feel this way?
Would she feel so divided?
Her heart gave a small, guilty tug—familiar, but no longer overwhelming.
With a heavy sigh, she rummaged through her pack for a change of clothing. Her fingers landed on her journal. Pulling it out of the satchel, she traced a reverent finger down the spine. A surge of homesickness overcame her.
Were the greenhouse attendants still tending to her plants?
Or had they all withered away without her care?
She sat by the fire and brought her notebook with her, thumbing through the soil-stained pages with a wistful smile.
There was pressedzuhur, the bright purple flower that dotted the palace gardens; the ingredients for her nutrient-rich water mixture that helped the roses thrive in the hot sun; monthly tracking ofneendakhistores for the palace healers.
An entire life’s work left behind.
