The Desert King's Virgin Bride
"Malik, I'm—' There was a slight pause as Sorrel struggled to push the words out. She cleared her throat and tried again—forcing a smile which felt as if it was slicing her face in two. "I'm leaving you," she said, and then wished she could have bitten the words right back, wondering why the hell it had come out like that.
Malik looked up from the document he had been reading and a spark of undisguised irritation flashed from his black eyes. Eyes which had been described by the press as cold, or intimidating, or even—in the more colourful publications—as being like those of a lithe predator, about to strike its helpless victim. "What?" he questioned impatiently.
"I mean—' Sorrel stared at the dark-skinned Sheikh, sitting in his shimmering silken robes at his desk. He had barely noticed her entering the room and he was barely looking at her now—and worrying about how her words had been interpreted was obviously a complete waste of time, since he obviously hadn't been listening either! "That I'm leaving Kharastan," she finished huskily.
A frown creased Malik's olive brow—for he was too preoc ... read full excerpt from: The Desert King's Virgin Bride ebook
