physical.
***
After breakfast, he pulled her outside onto the mountain slopes. It was a shockingly green place, for all that the air was dry and arid, and she looked around herself curiously.
“When most people picture Zahar, this is not what they picture,” she said. “This wouldn't be out of place in the Pacific Northwest.”
He nodded absently. “This is a strange place in many ways. Our scientists have learned that it is fed by underground streams and by rain that falls nowhere else in the country. The ancients considered it a sacred place, one of great holiness and strange things. They said it was the worst of luck to venture into it in the middle of the night, when jinn and other strange beings used it for their meetings.”
She shivered a little. Olivia could see it. This place was beautiful, but there was something terribly lonely and isolated about it. She could well imagine strange figures coming to converse and parley here, and that a pair of simple human eyes would be unwelcome.
“So of course your ancestors decided to build a cabin here?”
Makeen threw his head back and laughed, and when he glanced back at her, his grin was boyish. “And right there, you have placed a finger on what it is that sets my ancestors apart,” he said. “A great deal of ambition, a lack of interest in danger, and a love of grand structures that will last for hundreds of years, all designed to impress the women that they desire most.”
She grinned in return at that. For a few moments, they walked in silence, but then she had another question. “Why do you desire me?”
He glanced back at her, his expression wry. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
She blushed, but shook her head. “Not at all. But I am curious. You are the Sheikh. You could have your pick from women all over the world. I'm even fairly sure that I have seen tabloids that link you with models and actresses. You picked me off of a street corner and gave me your personal number. I'll be honest, I feel like a goldfish that you picked out of a bowlful of a thousand other similar goldfish and then declared special.”
Makeen didn't stop walking. Instead, he only laughed a little. “Truly? You must not look in a mirror very often.”
“Is that a way of saying that I need to brush my hair?”
“Not at all. I'm just saying that you have never seen yourself when you are standing on a street corner, your eyes half-closed, the sun and wind in your hair, and all of your attention on your music. You seem to have no idea how beautiful you are when you are consumed by your passion. The first time I saw you, I had to stop, first to listen, and then simply to watch you. If you were so passionate about your music, I thought, what would it have been like to have you in my bed?”
Olivia nearly choked when she heard his explanation. She stopped dead for a few steps before she hurried after him.
“And you got all of that from simply standing by and watching me play my violin?” she demanded.
“Yes. In a heartbeat.”
She might seriously have to think about what she was doing when she was out busking, but she pushed the thought away. If she followed it up, she would have ended up back on the letter for Johannesburg, and the one that was coming from Berlin. There were things she had lost that she did not regret, but she knew that she could not dwell on them, at least not now.
She followed him in silence until he stopped short, pointing ahead. Following his gesture, she could see a single swing suspended from a tall tree.
“Pretty,” she said, uncertainly, and he grinned at her again.
“Step forward slowly, and look down.”
Confused, she did what he said, and then she gasped. Directly beyond the tree was a steep and sudden drop-off, one that culminated in a rock floor some hundreds of feet below. Her heart pounding and her stomach falling like a brick, she stumbled back, looking at Makeen wide-eyed.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
He laughed at her
***
After breakfast, he pulled her outside onto the mountain slopes. It was a shockingly green place, for all that the air was dry and arid, and she looked around herself curiously.
“When most people picture Zahar, this is not what they picture,” she said. “This wouldn't be out of place in the Pacific Northwest.”
He nodded absently. “This is a strange place in many ways. Our scientists have learned that it is fed by underground streams and by rain that falls nowhere else in the country. The ancients considered it a sacred place, one of great holiness and strange things. They said it was the worst of luck to venture into it in the middle of the night, when jinn and other strange beings used it for their meetings.”
She shivered a little. Olivia could see it. This place was beautiful, but there was something terribly lonely and isolated about it. She could well imagine strange figures coming to converse and parley here, and that a pair of simple human eyes would be unwelcome.
“So of course your ancestors decided to build a cabin here?”
Makeen threw his head back and laughed, and when he glanced back at her, his grin was boyish. “And right there, you have placed a finger on what it is that sets my ancestors apart,” he said. “A great deal of ambition, a lack of interest in danger, and a love of grand structures that will last for hundreds of years, all designed to impress the women that they desire most.”
She grinned in return at that. For a few moments, they walked in silence, but then she had another question. “Why do you desire me?”
He glanced back at her, his expression wry. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
She blushed, but shook her head. “Not at all. But I am curious. You are the Sheikh. You could have your pick from women all over the world. I'm even fairly sure that I have seen tabloids that link you with models and actresses. You picked me off of a street corner and gave me your personal number. I'll be honest, I feel like a goldfish that you picked out of a bowlful of a thousand other similar goldfish and then declared special.”
Makeen didn't stop walking. Instead, he only laughed a little. “Truly? You must not look in a mirror very often.”
“Is that a way of saying that I need to brush my hair?”
“Not at all. I'm just saying that you have never seen yourself when you are standing on a street corner, your eyes half-closed, the sun and wind in your hair, and all of your attention on your music. You seem to have no idea how beautiful you are when you are consumed by your passion. The first time I saw you, I had to stop, first to listen, and then simply to watch you. If you were so passionate about your music, I thought, what would it have been like to have you in my bed?”
Olivia nearly choked when she heard his explanation. She stopped dead for a few steps before she hurried after him.
“And you got all of that from simply standing by and watching me play my violin?” she demanded.
“Yes. In a heartbeat.”
She might seriously have to think about what she was doing when she was out busking, but she pushed the thought away. If she followed it up, she would have ended up back on the letter for Johannesburg, and the one that was coming from Berlin. There were things she had lost that she did not regret, but she knew that she could not dwell on them, at least not now.
She followed him in silence until he stopped short, pointing ahead. Following his gesture, she could see a single swing suspended from a tall tree.
“Pretty,” she said, uncertainly, and he grinned at her again.
“Step forward slowly, and look down.”
Confused, she did what he said, and then she gasped. Directly beyond the tree was a steep and sudden drop-off, one that culminated in a rock floor some hundreds of feet below. Her heart pounding and her stomach falling like a brick, she stumbled back, looking at Makeen wide-eyed.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
He laughed at her
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