3. Seraiah

Abducted by a desert king wasn’t exactly on her bucket list. King Zarin Aurata had a reputation for being an uncompromising, ruthless leader who did whatever was necessary to safeguard his kingdom. In the handful of cycles since he took the throne, he’d put down an insurrection with roots in his late father’s reign, renegotiated treaties and trade agreements with any nearby nation that had a recognized leader available to negotiate with, and expanded his territory to the edge of the Egimata Forest.

Gripping the seatbelt like a lifeline, she eyed her captor. A muscle jumped in his cheek, his sharp features backlit by the single ray of sun strong enough to penetrate the deep canyon they traveled through.

But why had he snatched her? She wasn’t a useful hostage. Last she’d heard, negotiations were going well between their two territories, and neither she nor her family held enough power in Cywillada to be of any benefit.

That wasn’t completely true, though, was it? Maybe he knew of Tanl’n Maher’s ongoing romance with her eldest sister. Still, that had nothing to do with her, except that her family had now turned their matchmaking attentions to her, dammit all. She herself had zero pull with her territory’s big boss.

There was no logical reason for this abduction.

But here he was, knocking her out and dragging her away from her home like some ancient warrior claiming his bride. She repressed the teeny sliver of her brain that got all swoony at such an archaic but somehow still romantic idea. Surely he didn’t want her for that. He couldn’t.

Though she liked how she looked and appreciated her curves and muscles, she wasn’t vain enough to believe she was stunningly beautiful. Definitely not unique enough to drive a man she’d never met — a king, no less — so wild with lust that he’d snatch her from a date palm grove on a random autumn morning. Hells, she was just a tree-obsessed nerd who spent most of her time running around the orchards, trying to help improve her city’s food production to feed their growing population.

She was Verdet, which was unusual, yes, but not enough to risk a war over. Besides, the abilities found within her branch of the family focused on growing things and healing. It didn’t make sense.

Figuring out why he’d grabbed her was important. So was giving him a piece of her mind. But her parents taught her that should anything like this ever happen, escape was her top priority.

She swallowed down the more violent urges that boiled in her blood. He was lucky they were in a moving vehicle or she would be using some of those self-defense moves her cousins taught her on him.

Carefully, she unfastened a small pocket on the waistband of her running shorts and palmed her pruning knife, sharpened last night. “And I’m in this vehicle with you why?” she asked, doing her damndest to keep her voice steady.

“Why, you’re coming home with me.” He didn’t even bother looking at her when he said it. Smug bastard.

She waited for more. But nope, that was it. Just a king who decided he wanted something and took it. No consideration about if he should or if she even wanted to go with him. She saw red. “In the coldest hell that’s going to happen.” She feigned a slice towards him to force him away, cut the seatbelt holding her secure, and threw herself out of the moving vehicle.

Which, in hindsight, not the smartest move. She knew how to fall — loose limbs are essential if you wanted to avoid broken bones when crashing to the ground from high tree branches — but leaping out of something traveling fast through a walled mountain pass was a different experience entirely.

More painful, too, she thought as she tucked and rolled across the rocky ground before coming to a crunching halt against a boulder, the vehicle behind theirs passing close enough to ruffle her hair. Tires skidded over the gravel, red brake lights illuminating the darkening canyon as doors slammed and muffled voices shouted.

She barely had time to catch her breath and push to her knees before she found herself plastered against Zarin’s very hard body.

“You little fool,” he ground out, his arms tightening as he crushed her to him in a bone-creaking hug, a hand cupping the back of her head.

A crack of lightning made her start, followed at its heels by a boom of thunder that rattled her bones. Shaken, she burrowed against him, her hands sliding up the plains of his back before she remembered she shouldn’t be seeking comfort from her abductor. But he was so warm and lovely-smelling, like cedar wood and musk, and she scared herself more than she cared to admit. She was lucky she hadn’t been run over or cracked open her head on a rock. She drew in a wobbly breath, inhaling the soothing scent of him.

His voice softened, his strong fingers kneading the base of her skull. “What were you thinking?”

Licking her too-dry lips, she pushed, trying to put some space between them. His arms were rock-solid and unbudgeable. With a grimace, she gave in and allowed herself to be comforted. Tipping her head to rest her chin on his chest, she said, “I was thinking that you abducted me, and I didn’t want to be abducted anymore.”

Despite his unwelcome actions, she resentfully admitted she enjoyed being engulfed in his embrace. He was nearly a head taller than her, his broad torso covered in a super-soft cerulean blue button-up that clung to every muscle and emphasized the sandstone red shade of his skin. She could handle standing right here for a while, wrapped in the arms of the hot man who kidnapped her. Weird stray thoughts. Shit. Probably concussed. But she didn’t try to push him away again. Instead, she gave him a wobbly smile.

His brows drew together, and he examined her with a frown. “Are you injured?”

She blinked up at him. Holy olives, his eyes are such a lovely dark amber. Ooh, and theymatch that mane of hair. He’s got a mane. Like a lion. Cat-man. She giggled to herself.

“Did you hit your head?”

“Hummm?” She licked her lips again, trying to think past the pull of his lovely eyes. They looked like the whisky her mother liked to sip after dinner.

“Seraiah.” Tension strained his voice. “Where are you injured?”

Her brows drew together as she considered her answer. “My ankle kind of hurts. My head, too.”

Another crack of lightning lit up the dark sky, the sharp scent of ozone filling the air. He cursed under his breath and started barking orders at the armed men surrounding them — Where did they come from? she wondered — to find a safe place to make camp. One of them put a medi-kit into Zarin’s open hand, then took up position nearby.

Bodyguards, her brain supplied. Her processing was slower than usual, and her head pounded, making it hard to focus. She lifted her hand to the side of her head, wincing when she found the bump. “Ow.” She stared blankly at her red-tipped fingers. Oh, that’s not good.