Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Dariyus

(Present Day)

“She’s never going to forgive us,” I say as I lay Briar on the bed.

We drove all night, leaving the city and moving her to one of the safe houses in the middle of nowhere. Even if she escapes, there’s no one to help her for miles. She wouldn’t make it far. I hate that I was the one who suggested this place.

Her matted dark hair clings to her face, and rope marks mar her skin, which I despise. I pride myself on never leaving a mark. I unwrap the rope and work a balm into her skin to ensure there’s no further damage.

My gaze drifts out the giant bay window to the pond. Thinking of that day when I knew without a doubt that she was my damn heart.

“Sweeter than these lips I have not heard anyone speak. Speak, are you sugar itself or your mouth honey?”

Her lips are so soft, like silk. She turns to me, and her smile is enough for me to believe myself not just a king but God himself.

“That’s beautiful. Did you write it?”

I laugh. “Nafasam, I wish to adorn you with all the words filled with beauty, but no, I’m nowhere as poetic as Saadi.”

She shuffles and sits up to gaze at me. “Who’s Saadi? Why isn’t he a member of our merry band of misfits?”

Pure laughter leaves my core and fills the space between us. “He’s dead. Died in 1291.”

“Too bad. He had a way with words.”

“He did. A lot of the old Persian poets did. I never understood their words until you.”

“You’re fluent in Persian?”

“I am,” I say as my fingers fidget with a clear, flat rock. “But I’m done with it. Iran is something I stopped wondering about. It’s like a secret I locked up.”

She turns to face me, legs tucked behind her, eyes full of wonder, lips forming a straight line. “Why? I mean, it’s obvious it’s an important part of you. Why shut yourself off from it?”

“Because it’s the part of my past that almost drowned me. After my father died, I shut down. I was angry. I hated everyone: God, religion, and humanity. I wanted to torch the world and watch everyone burn. It’s hard to like people when so many of them stand behind monsters.”

“Do you still believe in God?” she asks.

“Yes. Against all odds, I still do. But I’m done with religion. I figure if God is merciful, as all holy books claim, he’ll judge me for what’s in my heart. Or he’ll be the vindictive trash that men used to manipulate and harm, and I’ll go to hell. Either way, I’ll be with good company.”

“Do you ever miss Iran?”

Her question is loaded, and the answer is far too complicated. “Doesn’t everyone miss home? Iran is tied to so many of my memories. It’s embedded in the man I am today. It’s the staple of my very being. But as much as I love that land and long for its splendors, the truth is you can never go home, not really. I built a life here. The people I care most about in the world are here.” I smile at her. “I’d like to visit without being jailed or getting my head thrown in an executioner’s noose.”

“You can’t visit?”

I shake my head no. “I’ve been outspoken against the government. My sisters too. It’s not safe for any of us.”

The conversation is getting too uncomfortable. A part of me wants to tell her every single thing about myself, but another part of me is scared that if she digs too deep, she’ll reject me. Because as much as I put on the good guy exterior, darkness pumps in my veins, demanding to be unleashed.

I toss the rock in my hand toward the water.

“What does Nafasam mean?”

I take a deep breath, glad for the change of subject as I skip another rock on the surface of the water. “What?”

“You never call me by my name. When you’re angry, you say Dellam. It’s usually emphasized with more venom. I figure it’s something nasty. But when you’re being kind, you always refer to me as Nafasam.”

“It means my heart.”

She stares at me earnestly as if searching for something in the depths of my eyes.

“Nafasam means my heart?” she asks.

The corner of my mouth turns up, and I flash her a smile, surprising even myself at how much joy she’s brought into my life. “No. That’s what Dellam means.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, making her giant breasts look even larger. “Are you gonna stop messing about and tell me what the word means or not?”

I won’t tell her because she already has too much control over me, so I smile and say, “Not.”

I should’ve told her what it meant that day. That she’s everything of value to me in this world.

Ezra pushes me aside and steps up to her. Her naked body is on display, and shamefully, my dick is hard and longing to be inside her.

Ezra’s fingers glide down her body as he removes the clamps from her nipples and clit. “It’s ironic that the only time I’ll be making love to her is the only time she won’t know.”

I scrub my face as I pace in the room. “Maybe if you did, she wouldn’t have wanted to run as soon as she could.”

Ezra inhales sharply. “It’s not who I am. I don’t want her to think she’s getting some illusion. I’m a monster. She has to want the monster.”

With two strides, I close the distance between us, grab Ezra by the shirt collar, and shove him against the wall. “Well, looks like she didn’t want the monster, but that doesn’t matter, huh? Cause if she can’t be the beauty on our arm, she might as well be the sleeping beauty in our bed.”