Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“Rayyan, now!” The command came from Khalil, and his blue-eyed cousin whirled around, taking the opponents behind him by surprise. His sword came into contact with the soldiers’ vest, and the pair immediately bowed out of the fight.
Ten more minutes passed, and their enemies – which had started at a mere number of thirty – were now down to ten. Khalil’s gaze scanned his surroundings like surveying a battlefield and wasted no time making his decision. “Cover for Malik.” In war, every second was vital. “Now!”
He and the others cleared the path for their youngest brother in blood—-
One by one, their opponents fell to the ground and tapped out of the fight.
That was to be expected.
But the manner in which Malik executed their strategy was not, and it had everyone in the fighting hall silent and stunned, the other sheikhs included. The speed with which Malik delivered his attack, the daredevil risks he was taking, the barely leashed violence in every strike of his sword—-
When Malik suddenly swung to face them, the four sheikhs involuntarily tensed, their hands poised above the swords they had already sheathed. Malik stared at them, breathing hard, and the four sheikhs looked back at him. All of them shared the same unspoken and utterly discomfiting thought.
Had jealousy turned Malik batshit crazy?
Sanity gradually returned to Malik, and he said tightly, “I’m okay.”
The four continued to look at him. Malik might think he was okay, only he looked anything but. Right now, their youngest brother looked no different from a beast about to go on a rampage.
“I’ve been thinking,” Malik muttered. “What do you think of attending Kyrillos Gazis’ weekend cruise?”
It was midnight by the time the royal helicopters carrying the five sheikhs landed on the yacht’s helipad, and as soon as they descended, several long-legged beauties in uniform moved forward to welcome them with sexy smiles and non-alcoholic cocktails. That the staff knew better than to offer the sheikhs liquor was testament to their employer’s exacting standards on hospitality, and even Rayyan was grudgingly impressed. “Smart move.” As the kingdom’s future head of finance, he had to acknowledge the subtle excellence of their host’s marketing strategy. With just a simple act of service, the Greek billionaire had let his young guests know that he was the man to consider when it came to business ventures in the recreational industry.
“Careful, brother,” Tarif said with a smirk as they went to join the other guests in the yacht’s upper deck. “The euros in your eyes are starting to shine.”
His cousin only shrugged. “Fucking bimbos can only keep me entertained for so long.” Making money was his favorite pastime, and he saw no shame in it. “Besides—-” His knowing gaze slid to their youngest cousin. “I’m determined to make the most out of this emergency trip.”
Malik frowned when he saw that the other sheikhs were looking at him. “What?”
“Feeling better now?” Altair asked politely.
He started to ask what the hell Altair meant when he saw their cousins turn to him again, their expressions guarded, and in a flash, he realized that they had all seen through him. No wonder they had been so quick to accept his invitation to attend Kyrillos Gazis’ party.
As they had willingly flown out of Ramil to keep him company, Malik knew he owed them the truth at the very least. Shaking his head, he heard himself say flatly, “No.” His lips twisted. “I don’t feel better. I still feel fucked, and it’s been so long that I can no longer remember what normal feels like.”
A pained expression crossed Tarif’s face. “That bad, eh?” He tried imagining himself in Malik’s shoes. How would it feel if the young girl he had forbidden feelings for were about to go to prom with another boy? He supposed he would want to smash his fist into the boy’s face—-
Tarif glanced at his cousin, and the harsh lines of ill-suppressed violence outlining Malik’s face told him that was exactly what the other sheikh was feeling. And probably more than that, too, Tarif thought, discomfited. The truth was, the word ‘love’ had no meaning for him beyond the filial sense. He could try to imagine how Malik was feeling, but he knew no matter what his imagination was able to conjure—-
It would be nothing like whatever Malik was feeling and had been struggling with for years.
“Why don’t you just marry her?” he asked finally. “In the eyes of our law, sixteen is of marriageable age as long as you have the parents’ consent—-”
“Even if my own mother were to agree,” Malik said flatly, “I wouldn’t want to do that to her.”
“Eighteen then?” Khalil suggested pragmatically.
Malik shook his head. “She’d still be too young—-”
“She’ll always be too young, Malik,” Rayyan pointed out. “You’re ten years older. No matter how much time passes, that will never change.”