Devil's Inferno: A Dark Romantic Conspiracy Thriller

PROLOGUE

KAREEM

Aqsa stood in front of me, her breath coming fast, her dark brown eyes locked on mine.

She was Pakistani, her skin a warm, golden brown, with long black hair that spilled over her shoulders in waves.

She was always calm, collected, the picture of professionalism as an emergency response specialist.

But right now, she wasn’t the woman who coordinated rescue missions or held her ground in the middle of disasters.

Right now, she was just Aqsa, and every part of her was burning with the same fire that raged inside me.

I was no better.

As a security consultant, I’d faced danger my entire life, but nothing had prepared me for this—the pull I felt toward her.

My Arab heritage was etched into my skin—olive-toned, with sharp, dark features and a beard I kept neatly trimmed.

I was always in control, always one step ahead.

But tonight, with Aqsa this close, the control I clung to was slipping.

I took a step closer, my gaze trailing down her figure.

She wore a simple black shirt and jeans, but the way they clung to her curves had my pulse racing.

Her body was tense, her lips parted slightly as if she was about to speak, but no words came.

Instead, her chest rose and fell with the same unsteady rhythm as mine.

"Aqsa," I murmured, my voice rougher than I intended.

She didn’t move away.

If anything, she leaned in, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and hesitation.

"Kareem," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with tension, "this… this is dangerous."

I knew she wasn’t just talking about the situation outside, the terrorist threats tearing the city apart.

She was talking about us, the undeniable tension that had been building from the moment we met.

But right now, I didn’t care.

The danger outside paled in comparison to the heat between us.

I reached out, my fingers brushing against her arm.

Her skin was soft, and she sucked in a breath at the contact.

Slowly, I slid my hand up to her shoulder, then down to the curve of her waist, pulling her just a little closer.

"We’ve been in danger since the beginning," I said quietly, my voice low, almost a growl. "This... this is the only thing that feels right."

She didn’t argue.

Instead, her hands found their way to my chest, sliding up to rest against my shoulders.

Her touch was tentative at first, but when I leaned down, bringing my face closer to hers, she tightened her grip, her fingers curling into my shirt.

"You know this can’t last," she whispered, but even as she said it, her lips inched closer to mine.

I didn’t answer with words.

Instead, I closed the gap between us, pressing my lips to hers in a slow, deliberate kiss.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was desperate, fueled by the tension we’d been fighting for too long.

Aqsa responded instantly, her body molding against mine as the kiss deepened, her hands sliding up to tangle in my hair.

I could taste her need, the same need that was coursing through my veins.

Her lips were soft, warm, and I couldn’t get enough.

I pulled her closer, one hand moving to the small of her back, pressing her firmly against me as the kiss grew more heated.

Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening in my hair as she kissed me back with equal intensity.

Every touch, every sigh, was a surrender.

She melted into me, her body fitting perfectly against mine, and for a moment, I forgot everything—the bombings, the chaos, the mission that had brought us together.

There was only her, only this.

I pulled away just long enough to meet her gaze, her dark eyes glazed with desire.

Her lips were swollen from the kiss, her chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

"We shouldn’t," she whispered, but the way her body pressed against mine betrayed her words.

"I know," I said, my voice hoarse, my hand trailing up to cup her face. "But I can’t stop."

I kissed her again, harder this time, my hand sliding down her back, gripping her waist with enough force to keep her right where I wanted her.