9 Nasrin

9

Nasrin

The soles of my golden flats and his shiny dark shoes made little to no sound when we walked together on the marble floors of the palace hallway. I couldn’t keep from internally being in awe at every minute detail in the structure of the pillars, the domes, the antique decorations. Each and every little thing gleamed of opulence. Richness. 

No wonder Azmia was well-known as the Golden country. 

I had slept with the sultan of the country that bleeds gold, and he had an adorable picture of me drooling on his phone. I certainly knew how to pick a one-night stand.

Biting my cheek, I tried to look anywhere but at him. His presence and his aura were a living thing, beckoning me to gaze at him, marvel at his beauty and his leadership. I had seen no one talk like that to my father. Other than me, of course.  

“The palace gardens are this way,” Zain said, his voice husky, reminding me of the night we had spent together. 

I followed him, shamelessly staring at the tailor-made suit and pants he wore. The dark velvet suit looked marvelous on him. The golden embroidery with minute details donned the lapels of the suit, and the cuffs in intricate designs gleamed under the moonlight. I couldn’t stop staring at how captivating he looked.

The night air was chilly, and the moon was bright, glowing, while two guards trailed behind us with lanterns, giving us enough privacy to talk. The garden seemed quiet in the night, bushes trimmed expertly in various shapes, the pathway paved with cobblestones. 

I tried not to gawk at the tall, handsome man beside me, who smelled of musky pine and something heady. He was beautiful, radiating power and control with his lean, muscled frame. His wavy hair was pushed out of his face, the dark locks gleaming in the moonlight. Brows dark and slashing over his hooded obsidian pools of eyes. 

I had tried my best not to tremble when he had seen me in the library with such intensity that I wanted to hide behind the curtains or run away from the palace. He had truly seen me. Just like the night we had kissed.

I wonder if he remembered that kiss and the night we spent together. The kiss that had ruined me. 

“I wanted to talk to you about that night,” Sultan Zain said. The timber of his smooth voice making me shiver. 

I licked my lips, waiting for him to continue. 

Zain stopped walking and turned towards me. I met his stare as he cleared his throat and asked, “Did we… did we use protection that night?” 

I blinked. “What?” My mind went blank with confusion. “Are you asking me if we used protection—a condom or not?” 

He didn’t reply. 

I almost laughed. Almost because he looked wounded.

“Sultan Zain, I am not sure if you remember, but you didn’t have any condoms with you, and I mentioned I was on birth control pills,” I said. “If you want, we can get our tests done.”

“No, of course not. I trust you. Thank you for clarifying. I didn’t remember using protection that night and I had to ask you.” He confessed, his broad shoulders rigid.

Of course, he called me to his palace to ask me about protection. Why would I ever think that it was something more than that? He didn’t even know I was the princess when we slept together. I certainly didn’t remember that the Sultan of Azmia was that handsome. Even though he had told me his name was Zain. 

“I knew your name wasn’t Jasmine,” Zain said softly, as if he could read my mind. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat and met his eyes. “It is my middle name.”

He tested it out, my name rolling out smoothly from his lips. “Nasrin Jasmine Elbaz.”

I hoped that my hair would hide my flush. 

“What else do you remember from that night, if I may ask, Sultan Zain?” I said, continuing to walk beside him while his thoughtful face gazed at the close buds of the flowers. The sharp jawline with stubble reminded me how that scruff had grazed the delicate skin of my neck and inner-thighs, teasing me and calling me his wife. 

“You don’t need to be formal with me, Princess Nasrin. You can call me Zain.”

“Zain it is.” I loved how his name rolled off of my tongue. “But you may not address me by my name yet.”

He chuckled, the sound of his laugh making me shiver. I rubbed my arms. “I won’t address you by your name, Princess, if that is your wish—oh, I am sorry, are you cold?” 

Before I could deny him, he had already removed his luxurious suit jacket and placed it around my shoulders. I tried not to sigh when he stepped back, his musky male scent surrounding me. 

It smelled divine. If I could, I would steal it and take it to Maahnoor and sleep, snuggling it like a creep.

“And to answer your previous question,” Zain said, his voice lowering into a smooth purr. “I remember kissing those full lips of yours. Licking them until you begged me to follow you to your room.”

I swallowed the gulp in my throat when I met his eyes. Dark obsidian orbs pooled with desire when they gazed between my lips and eyes. “And?” I breathed. “Do you remember what happened when we reached my suite?” 

His eyes darkened with a gleam, and I knew he remembered it. Knowing that guards were way behind us, I stepped closer to him, remembering how tall he was as I leaned on my toes and whispered, 

“I took you in my mouth and pleased you until you stopped me,” I crooned, smiling at the tremble in his body. “Do you remember, Sultan Zain?” 

His eyes slid over my face as if he was assessing his enemy. He tilted his head to the side, a lock of hair brushing his brow when he said, “Maybe I need to see you repeat it, Nasrin. Refresh my memories a bit. Or the night wasn’t that special that I forgot about it. About how beautiful you must have looked donning nothing and kneeling in front of me.”

The audacity—

Reining in my anger, I smiled and checked my fingernails, “Hmm, I wonder why you left me covered in hickeys then.”

“I remember.” His eyes lowering from my neck to my chest, my stomach tightening as he raked his gaze over my body. As if he could see through my clothes, remember how he had left love bites all around my breasts, my stomach, my inner thighs.

“I wish I could see them,” he whispered to himself, my breath catching in my throat upon hearing him.  

Zain smirked, noting the blush on my cheeks. Straightening up, he pulled out something from his pocket. I gaped when I saw the golden emerald jewelry. “I believe this belongs to you,” he said, handing me the maang tikka that I had been searching for frantically since last week. 

“Thank you,” I heard myself say as I checked over my family heirloom, sighing in relief when it was all in one piece with no dents or discoloration. “I had been worried because I couldn’t find it. How did you…”

“I went back to the suite to meet you.” his neck turned red when he continued. “I wanted to ask you if we had used protection, but you had left. Vanished. But I found that jewelry in the vanity drawer and kept it with me.”

“You went to the hotel to see me? Ask me about protection?”

“I am the Sultan of Azmia, Princess Nasrin. I needed to make sure I didn’t have any… unexpected heirs or scandals.”

I gazed at him and back at the emerald headpiece. I could understand why he would have gone to such a great measure to invite me and my father to his palace.

Despite the animosity between our countries, he took care of the maang tikka instead of bargaining for it like my father or Sadiq would do. He took care of my mother’s maang tikka. 

Stepping closer, I wrapped my arms around his waist. He stiffened. I whispered, “Thank you, Zain.” 

His muscles relaxed when I hugged him for one more moment, his warm hands pressing against my back before I pulled away. Daring a glance at him, I saw his eyes glinting at me with the same intensity as when he had kissed me. 

“I wanted to—”

“I have a que—”

We both spoke in unison. 

I broke the silence first. “You were saying?” 

“Do you have anywhere important to go tomorrow?” he asked, his voice smooth in the crispy night air. The way he said it made me want to pull his suit closer to me, tightening my fingers on the soft fabric. “Or perhaps next week?” 

“I have an important meeting with a professor tomorrow,” I said. It wasn’t an important meeting, just an online call that I had to take and ask if she received the sweets that I had sent to her in London. 

“I would like you to cancel it.”

The close buds of the flowers whispered against each other when a chill night air flew through us. I tucked my hair behind my ear and peered at him. “Why would I do that, Zain?” 

The glowing lantern cast a warm shadow on the sides of his face, making him look like some kind of king with the beautiful night as the backdrop. If I had the skill, I would have painted his portrait and called it the King of the Night. He truly looked like one, his dark eyes matching the sky.

Zain Al Latif stepped closer, his warm breath caressing my cheek as he said, “Because, Princess Nasrin, I am asking you to marry me.”