Page 71 of House of Pawns
He walks into the ballroom, the heels of his boots snapping across the marble. I follow silently behind him.
He stops before the gigantic glass doors that open up onto the veranda. He places his hands on the glass, and leans his forehead against it.
“I know I’m not her,” I say. My voice seems very small in this enormous space. Yet, it echoes, like a ghost taunting me. Reiterating what I cannot truly be sure of. “Does it change anything if I am not her?”
Raheem doesn’t look back at me. He stands there against the glass, his shoulders stiff. I see his fingers curl against theglass, as if he is in pain, trying to grasp onto anything that will anchor him to reality.
“You have never known Sevan,” he says through what I am sure are clenched teeth. “You do not remember her, who you may be. So you do not know how very like her you really are.”
My heels echo off the walls as I slowly take one step at a time. “And if I am not her, does that change anything?”
I stop just three steps behind him. The breath catches in my chest, and my heart beats with the speed of a hummingbird. I know he can hear every flutter of it.
“Doyouwish things could be different if you aren’t?” he asks quietly.
And slowly, one controlled motion at a time, he turns toward me, first looking over his shoulder, and then fully facing me.
I see so much longing there. But it’s carefully guarded. There is so much fear, so many forbidden feelings. And our human desires apparently cannot be bridled even when we rise from the dead. Raheem cannot rein it in, and I know…I feel…
Do I wish things could be different? Do I wish I could touch Raheem without fear of the wrath of King Cyrus, should I be his wife? Do I wish I could see how his lips taste, if they taste of spices and history and the desert?
An ache deep inside of me tells me yes.
But love is deep and lust unsure.
“I wish many things could be different,” I finally answer honestly.
Raheem takes two steps forward, our bodies only a breath away. He raises his hand slowly, his fingers hovering a breath away from my face.
“I’ve had gypsies and queens as lovers,” he says as he studiesmy face. The hint of a red glow ignites in his eyes. “I’ve refused Maria of Antioch and kissed the princess of Siberia. Yet none of them have held me enchanted and captive as you have.”
Finally, he lets his thumb rest against my bottom lip. It parts my lips open just a fraction and my hot breath comes out wistful.
“But even if you are not Sevan,” he says mournfully as he lets his thumb slide from my lip, “I cannot leave the King’s service after so long. As I once said, saying anything, doing anything, when it comes to you, will only get me killed.”
I reach up and grab Raheem’s hand with both of mine. I pull it to my chest, resting it against my heartbeat as our faces come so close. So close together.
“He cannot control everyone’s lives,” I say airily. “You are your own man, Raheem. I believe you can do anything you want.”
His eyes rise up to mine and a small, sad smile pulls on his lips. “You are incredible, mynofret, but you do not understand.”
And suddenly, he yanks his hand away and disappears across the room.
Only one second before a loud knock sounds on the front door.
I whip in the direction of it as every ounce of air leaves my body.
The world grows very still and very quiet.
The sound of one footstep. Two.
Rath comes into view, exiting from the library. I’m terrified for him. So human—maybe. So fragile. So exposed to death.
I should have had someone turn him.
Should have protected him better.
Should have sent him away with the staff.
