Darius, King of Persia, has many beautiful women in his harem�but none entice him more than his latest prize: Myrine of Scythia. The princess�s overwhelming beauty and provocative dances fill him with lust�and his desire is matched by her own boldness.

Myrine has been given to the new king as a tribute, a tantalizing prize for the fierce warrior. But she is no submissive concubine, and her veils hide more than her sensuous curves. If she can capture Darius�s attention through a game of seduction, she will have him at her mercy!

Unveiled for the Persian King

Linda Skye

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Historical Undone BPA

Copyright

Chapter 1

Myrine fought the urge to fidget underneath the many veils that artfully covered her body. Though a cool evening breeze occasionally lifted a corner of the luxuriant material swathing her, it was not enough to quell the vestiges of the hot summer sun or the heat emanating from the hundreds of revelling Persians in the grand palace. She suppressed a scowl as a drunken Persian ambled by, pausing to lean in and ogle. She knew he couldn�t have seen much through the translucent fabric, but he had obviously seen enough to ignite his lust. He stumbled even closer, hands outstretched and fingers curled to pull at her coverings. A harsh smack from one of her male attendants sent the man careening backward.

�This woman is not to be touched,� her guard boomed sternly.

When the drunken reveller sneered and edged closer, the guard crossed his arms over his burly bare chest and glared.

�By order of the king,� the guard commanded.

Even in a drunken stupor, her would-be attacker seemed to reconsider. Then he slunk away, muttering Persian curses and taking a long swig from his flask of wine. The guard turned to Myrine.

�Apologies, noble lady,� he said in his deeply accented voice, �We Persians celebrate with song and wine, but the spirits can make men foolish.�

Myrine hummed her acknowledgement, a line creasing her brow�for she knew that after this night, she was not and never would be a noble lady. She sighed and admitted to herself that the Persians had a right to celebrate�especially on this night.

The new Persian emperor, King Darius, had just returned after subduing a violent, warlike tribe who had never before been subjugated. Despite the tribe�s ferocity in battle, Darius had easily crushed their rebellion, swept their lands into the rapidly expanding Persian empire and demanded tribute. The Scythian people�herpeople�had been utterly enslaved. And so an envoy of Scythian nobles bearing gifts of tribute had returned with the conquering king to the royal city of Susa, ready to formally present themselves as loyal subjects of the Persian empire at a lavish banquet.

Myrine cast a quick glance at the other Scythian nobles who were poised to be presented to the Persian court. Each was traditionally dressed and adorned with fine jewels unique to their lands�their former lands. Their spines were ramrod straight, their fists clenched. They knew, as did she, what they were there to do. The nobles stood in pairs in a long line ahead of her with trunks filled with gold and precious jewels between them, just waiting to be lifted and brought before the king�s dais.

And she was the last in the procession�as well she should be! For what could possibly be a better symbol of servitude or a more poignant acknowledgement of defeat than to offer the deposed king�s only daughter as tribute, to be used for the conqueror�s pleasure?

Myrine�s lips thinned. King Darius hadn�t even demanded such a thing; it had been King Scylas of Scythia who had deemed it necessary to offer up his daughter as a sacrifice.

A great cry rose from behind the heavy oak doors that blocked their view of the banquet hall. The sounds of drumming, music and laughter seeped into the marble corridor where she waited, and Myrine knew that her time was near. She fought the beads of perspiration that threatened on her forehead. It would not do to be a sticky mess; she needed to appear fresh, cool and composed. She carefully shifted from foot to foot under the many sheer layers of coloured gauze. Each translucent veil had been meticulously arranged so that it covered and yet tantalized, offering nothing more than a faint glimpse of a sensuous curve or hint of skin.

The drumming climbed toward its crescendo.

The four bare-chested male attendants around her took up their positions and bent to lift four wooden poles onto their shoulders. With a quick tug, they released the four silken drapes that had been wound around the rods. The heavy silk formed a perfect square around her; a prison of shining red and gold. All was set for her dramatic entrance.

Just as the drumming reached its frenzied climax, the majestic oak doors were pulled open. Myrine waited as the crowds quieted. Then the drummers began a low, slow marching beat, and the procession began to move forward. Myrine timed her steps to the drumbeat, measuring the length of her strides to stay at the centre of her silken cage. Through the thick curtains she could hear the clank of coins as the trunks of treasure were set at the feet of their new emperor. As she made the long walk to the front of the hall, she could pick up the hushed whispers of the onlookers as she passed.

Then she heard the voice of her king. She stopped and steeled herself, knowing her moment had finally come.

�And finally, great King Darius,� King Scylas announced, �One further gift to be used at your whim and for your every pleasure. To show our complete and absolute loyalty to the empire, I give you�� he paused dramatically ��my daughter, the Princess Myrine of Scythia!�

The drapes dropped with a swish, revealing her veiled form to all in the hall. In the hush that followed, Myrine stepped forward with a sensuous sway of her hips and dropped to one knee before the king. When King Scylas sent her a pointed look, she stood with a smooth twirl, her veils flaring outward to show glimpses of her long legs. It was time to enrapture a conqueror. She began to dance before the dais, weaving her svelte limbs in intricate, enticing patterns.

King Darius straightened minutely on his throne, his eyes trained upon the woman�s lithe form. He�d been pleased with the Scythian tribute of gold and precious items�but also rather uninterested in the lot. After all, they had been suitable and adequate expressions of servitude, and his city stores could always receive new loot�but really, what were a few more trunks of gold to an already wealthy kingdom?

But this woman, this deposed princess�her dramatic appearance had him captivated. Though she was covered from head to toe in gauzy veils, he could easily make out her sensuous silhouette. When she spun, he caught a glimpse of her shapely calves. When she dipped backward with arms upraised, the veils shifted slightly to show the pale plane of her abdomen. When she rolled her hips seductively in time to the drumming, the fabric parted to reveal the creamy length of her thigh.

And then she began to drop the veils.

Darius�s fists clenched involuntarily as he watched with ever-building anticipation the woman discarding her coverings one layer at a time with graceful flicks of her thin wrists. Each cast-off veil exposed unparalleled beauty�it was a slow seduction that had his heart hammering and his thighs tightening with desire. First were her arms�long, toned limbs adorned only with jewelled arm bands. Then the sumptuous curve of her chest that led to an ample bosom heaving within a bustier of red silk. A moment later she bared her midriff, revealing a tiny waist that undulated seductively with her dancing. Next she pulled away most of the fabric covering her slim legs, leaving only two panels of sheer cloth hanging from a bejewelled belt that sat low on her hips. The strips of thin gauze slid tantalizingly around her nimble limbs in provocative patterns as she danced.

Though there had been many a naked woman paraded through his banquet hall on other occasions, Darius had never before seen such an elegant display of grace, femininity and sensuality in one woman. Her dance movements spoke of uncommon athleticism, but the titillating, flirtatious exhibition of her flesh promised pleasures born of her agility and flexibility. Darius leaned forward and rested his chin upon one tight fist as he tried to hide the eager glint in his eye. It would not do to have the defeated Scythian king know just how much he appreciated this last gift.

And then finally, with a leap and a flourish, she pulled away the sheer fabric veiling her face and spun to a stop with her slender arms twined over her head and her hips at a suggestive slant. A collective gasp filled the hall�but it was not just in appreciation of the risqu� performance.

Myrine had revealed her unique beauty, one that had her dark-haired captors entranced. Darius leaned forward, for a moment unable to conceal his interest. Unlike all the women of Persia, the Scythian princess was pale of face with coral-pink lips and sky-blue eyes. And if that were not enough to set her apart, her head was crowned with long, lustrous waves of golden hair that tumbled down her back.

Before he could think twice, Darius beckoned to the girl with one finger. She dropped her gaze and slowly ascended the thirteen marble steps of his dais. She stopped when she stood in front of his throne, then dropped to one knee before him with head bowed. Scylas, who stood a step lower than his daughter, did likewise.

�Are you pleased with our tribute, King Darius?� Scylas inquired, his voice low.

Darius did not deign to answer. Rather he placed the tip of one long finger under the girl�s chin, lifting her face to the light. He took a moment to study the alabaster hue of her delicate face. She had sweet, almost childlike features: a smooth, unwrinkled forehead, elegantly arching brows, long, thick lashes that fluttered over high cheekbones, a small, dainty nose and full, moist lips.

�Let me see your eyes,� he commanded quietly.

Hesitantly Myrine raised her blue-eyed gaze to the king�s�and it was only from years of training that she was able to hide the fine tremor that raced up her spine.

There could be no question that the man before her was a true ruler.

Even if she had been asked to pick out the Persian king from a crowd of strangers, Myrine knew that she would not have been able to mistake King Darius for any other man. Even seated and relaxed, he exuded an aura of power and privilege, of ironclad determination and ruthless authority. His irises were the colour of dark honey, and his stare was at once demanding and calculating. She felt trapped, as an insect in sticky golden sap, helpless except for the fact that she refused to wilt under his penetrating gaze.

He was devilishly handsome with a strong, square jaw, golden skin and glossy black curls. His broad shoulders were hidden in a stiff-necked silk jacket that was encrusted with precious jewels. Open at the front, the jacket exposed the lean ridges of his muscular chest, his skin bronzed and glowing from years under the desert sun. He wore simple white silk trousers that gathered at the ankles, and his feet were encased in ornately decorated Persian shoes.

Myrine knew instantly that though this was a young ruler, he was not one to be taken lightly. For one so young, his confident posture told of victory in countless battles, and his eyes gleamed with fiery passion, fearsome control and cool ambition.

So, Myrine thought to herself, thisisaconqueringemperor.

Meanwhile, Darius was fighting not to lose himself in the blue depths of the woman�s eyes or to the building ache in his loins. He carefully schooled his features into a stony expression as he studied the deposed princess. She was even more intriguing up close. Her eyes were like none he had ever seen before, and as they were lined with dark kohl, they stood out in her pale face like luminous jewels. It had been a calculated makeup trick of an experienced eunuch, no doubt; another ruse to lure him into a seductive relationship. As he stared down at her, he let himself imagine those perfect blue eyes misting over in rapture as he settled between her thighs and took his pleasure in her exotic body over and over again. She would cry out in a foreign tongue, cursing and praising him for his exploits in her lands and in her body. He could make her crave his touch, ache for his lips, and beg him to grant her release amid his silken sheets. And in turn, he knew that he would want her willing, yearn for her pliant flesh and shower her with gifts of affection.

No.

He shook his head slightly, clearing his mind of the lustful haze.

Hecouldnot�andwouldnot�besodistracted.

�Stand, Myrine of Scythia,� he directed in a voice that was soft yet unyielding.

Myrine obeyed instantly, rising to her feet in one fluid motion. Darius�s gaze flicked over to the Scythian king, who was waiting with bated breath. He arched an imperious brow.

�Your gifts are well received, former king,� Darius said nonchalantly. �You may rise.�

�I am honoured, great conqueror,� Scylas said as he climbed to his feet. �May my daughter please you well.�

Darius inclined his head, acknowledging his tribute.

�Yes, a grand gift indeed� came a sibilant hiss from the other side of the dais.

The two kings turned to look as the vizier, a hunched-over old man, moved toward the throne. He casually fanned himself with a paddle decorated with the long plumes of a peacock, his beady eyes shining with glee. Here was another chance to further humiliate a defeated opponent�one who had been the source of great frustration during the time of Darius�s predecessor.

�May I make a suggestion, my lord Darius?� the vizier asked with a bow.

�Speak your mind, Araxes,� Darius replied with a wave of his hand.

Araxes turned cunning eyes on Scylas, his lips rising in a sardonic smirk.

�It is a great gesture indeed,� Araxes said, �to offer up a Scythian princess as a bed slave�but how can we be sure such a woman would please our lord, one who has most...distinguished tastes?�

�Is my daughter to be compared to cattle...or dinner fare?� Scylas began to sputter, his face reddening.

�Well,� Araxes replied, casually continuing to fan himself as he spoke, �she is meant to satisfy the appetites of a king, is she not? How are we to know that she is...adequate?� He grinned lecherously. �Or even pure?�

Scylas�s chest began to heave, and colour spread from his cheeks to his neck. Darius raised a brow and turned to his vizier.

�Do not stoop to baiting our guest, Araxes.� He coolly interfered. �What is your suggestion?�

�My lord,� the vizier said, bowing at the waist, �I humbly suggest that you but try this woman for yourself. Examine her fully before you add her to your harem. We daren�t pollute your playground, after all.�

�Do you dare to suggest he take her here,� Scylas retorted, his red face a mask of horror, �in front of his guests? You would dare to shame a princess of Scythia?�

Darius�s expression hardened.

�And do you dare to object to the rulings of your empire, Scylas of Scythia?� Darius challenged. �Remember, she is princess no longer�you yourself gave her to me as tribute for my every whim.�

Scylas trembled under his merciless glare, and he stepped back with his head bowed. Darius�s eyes slid to the disinherited young woman. She stood statue-still, her face carefully neutral and her eyes downcast. Though he could read no fear from her body language, he caught a glimpse of her fists clenching tightly at her sides.

He could have her strip naked and expose her to all�a definitive show of force and power. After all, he had even heard of former kings lavishing their carnal affections upon prospective concubines in full view of the court. But it did seem a pity to degrade such a dignified woman after her sultry performance just moments before. He had no desire to break the creature or to make the defeated king chafe even further under his hand. Making his decision, Darius rose from his throne and stepped forward to stand at the edge of the platform.

�People of Persia,� he boomed, raising his deep voice so that it echoed from the four corners of the great hall, �behold the tribute of a conquered people�gold for our city and pleasure for your king!�

A great cheer rose from the crowd.

�Continue the celebration,� Darius commanded. �Drink and be merry, my people, for tonight I have claimed lands for our empire. And I will take their princess for my own.�

The musicians immediately began to play, a string of dancing girls started to circulate through the crowds, and laughter and the sounds of merrymaking once again filled the hall. Darius looked down at Araxes and Scylas.

�Step down from my dais,� he commanded sternly.

They bowed their heads and began to descend the steps backward. Darius turned sharply and strode back to sit again upon his marble throne. With a flick of his fingers, he gestured to his eunuch attendants.

�Draw the curtains,� he commanded imperiously.

Several rich, purple velvet curtains were quickly pulled shut around the top tier of the dais, completely cutting off the throne from the rest of the hall. Even the sounds of revelry were muffled by the thick drapes.

And so finally the conquering king and his living tribute were alone.

Darius leaned back, studying the woman who had not budged a millimetre since being commanded to rise. She stood perfectly still, presumably waiting.

�So, Scythian,� Darius asked, his tone hard, �do you speak our tongue?�

�Who does not speak the language of the Persians?� she replied without lifting her head. After a moment�s pause, she added, �My king.�

Darius smirked. So there was fire underneath her docile facade after all.

�You speak well enough to be insolent, then?�

�I speak well enough to be understood.�

His grin widened. Her voice was sweet and high, her foreign accent lending a unique melody to her words. But there was an edge to her dulcet tones that he had not been expecting.

Interesting. He changed tack.

�Then do you also understand well enough to know why you are here?�

She glanced up, and the look in her eyes was all he needed to confirm that she did in fact understand her position quite perfectly. Yet still he waited for her answer in the long silence that followed.

�I am a tribute,� she finally said softly. �Given to be used for your pleasure.�

�Indeed.� Darius paused, leaning back. �And does your new position please you, princess of Scythia?�

She arched a delicate brow, cocking her head to one side.

�I am no longer a princess, as you have said,� she replied calmly, �And I am not here for my own pleasure but for yours...myking.�

�So,� Darius said, his tone deceptively light, �do you know why I have had the curtains drawn?�

Myrine struggled to quell the tremble in her thighs, keenly aware of his heavy stare. Out of habit, she dropped her eyes.

�I would not presume to know the mind of a king,� she answered quietly.

�Oh come now,� Darius chided playfully, �this pretence does not suit you.� His tone darkened. �And I am not one for games.�

Myrine heard the warning in his voice and raised her eyes to his.

�Apologies, my king,� she said loftily. �I am not accustomed to men who care to hear the thoughts of their women.�

�There are many things you will not be accustomed to in my kingdom,� Darius said pointedly. �But you have not yet answered my question.�

�You plan to examine my flesh to prove my worth as your bed slave,� Myrine said, her voice deliberately flippant.

Darius tutted and shook his head.

�Why so callous, my darling?� He said with a light frown, �You have misunderstood my purpose. The curtains were drawn to protect your modesty as my property. But yes, I would see what my battles have purchased.� He lifted a hand and beckoned her closer. �So by all means, please show me what you have to offer.�

Myrine considered this king. He was cunning�of that she was certain. And though she had heard of his ruthless savagery in battle and of his iron fist in dealing with his enemies, he did not seem to rule his people or his conquered vassals with a heavy hand. He had dealt fairly and calmly with both her king and his vizier�demonstrating a level head and exceptional self-control. She had not even expected him to speak with her before indulging in her flesh, much less engage her in a bout of verbal sparring. His courteous manner left her confused, forcing her to change her strategy in approaching him. He seemed driven by his kingdom, rather than drunk on power.

DariustheGreat, indeed.

Myrine inhaled, her mind racing to formulate a plan. After all, she too had a duty to complete�and all her training had prepared her for this moment. Rolling her head back to stretch out her neck, she began. She daringly stepped forward until her legs were almost between his knees. Then, as she raised her arms, she twisted her hands in intricate patterns and bent forward and back, shaking her shoulders so that her breasts shook alluringly. With her arms still upraised, she held her upper body stiff and began to move her hips in sensual circles�at first slowly and then in tight, quick motions. Turning, she presented him with a view of her elegant spine.

Despite his impeccable self-control, Darius felt himself harden almost immediately at the sight. This dance was completely different from the last. While the latter had been slowly seductive, this was plainly provocative. She began to twist in place, lowering her gyrating hips until she barely touched his clenching thighs�only to rise again in an enthralling parody of lovemaking. She was so close that he could smell her sweet scent and feel her silky tresses brush against his bare chest. The proximity was both enticing and infuriating.

Of their own volition, his fingertips came to rest on her hips, and he trailed his blunt nails down her legs. She spun around and took his hands in hers, pressing his open palms on the backs of her thighs. She guided his hands up her body, moulding them to her curves as she continued to dance before him. With a grunt, he pulled her down so that she straddled his hips. Without missing a beat, Myrine began to roll her torso against his while rocking her warmth against his stiffened member.

�You seem far too experienced in this,� Darius commented gruffly, tangling his fingers in her long hair.

�Scythian women are not like Persian women,� she whispered, catching the ridge of his ear in her teeth.

Her hands left his so that she could lean backward, bracing her hands on his knees. He cupped her bottom to draw her even closer, and she arched back and presented him with a splendid view of her full chest. His lips dropped to the edge of her bustier, and he began to plant hot, openmouthed kisses on the mounds of her breasts. Myrine sank the fingers of one hand into his thick, dark hair and drew him in, encouraging his caresses with every undulation and stoking his passion with soft, mewling cries.

Darius felt the fire in his groin spread through every vein in every limb. He itched to tear away what remained of her gossamer clothing, to press her into the cold marble of his throne, to wrap her strange golden hair around his fingers and ravish her until they were both spent and sated. Intoxicated by her exotic allure�the smooth pallor of her limbs, the light blue in her eyes, the silken gold of her hair�and by her wanton expressions of desire, Darius revelled in the taste and touch of her skin. It was so hot, and there was only one solution.

He wanted release�and he wanted it now.

Acknowledging the thought made him pause, his hands stilling. Even if she had not meant to trap him, he had been completely caught up in his desire for her�and that simply would not do.

Darius stood suddenly. His eyes cold and distant once again, he carefully pulled her away from his body. Ignoring the surprise in her eyes, he stepped away stiffly toward the edge of the platform.

�Curtains!� he barked roughly.

The velvet drapes were pulled back sharply, revealing the dishevelled forms of the king and his newest acquisition. The crowd roared with delight�it was exactly what they needed to see.

�This Scythian woman is acceptable,� Darius announced loudly. �I hereby take her as a concubine.� He turned to address a waiting servant. �Jamshid,� he commanded, �take her to the harem.�

He turned away as Jamshid took Myrine by the elbow, gently guiding her down the dais steps. Still somewhat shocked at her abrupt dismissal, she allowed herself to be led away, pausing only when Scylas stood to touch her arm.

�You have done well, daughter,� Scylas said, his eyes sharp. �Now make me proud.�

With that he released her�but not before pressing something cold into her palm. Myrine resisted the urge to look down until Jamshid had gently pushed her through the jeering crowd and into the marble corridor. Then she allowed herself a discreet look at what Scylas had given her in parting.

Three long, golden hairpins.

They were beautiful and of exquisite craftsmanship. The ends were shaped into beautiful flower buds, from which dangled thin, delicate chains of sparkling rubies. They would look stunning in her hair, but these hairpins were not meant just to complement her beauty�for the sharp ends of the golden hairpins were dipped in poison.

These were the tools of an assassin.

Chapter 2

Myrine was confused.

She had been living in the palace harem for nearly a month, but the king had not visited even once�not for her or any other girl, of which there were many. She thought it very strange that the king had not indulged in his private collection of women, as most men with power seemed wont to do. She also thought his prolonged absence made the women even more hostile.

It was obvious that many of the concubines were catty and manipulative, the equals of any brothel whore in cruelty to one another. Most were Persian women, daughters of lesser nobles or priests vying for influence, no doubt. A few were foreign women like her, and these poor souls were more often than not the victims of bullying and pranks.

The eunuchs tried to keep them from tormenting each other, but really�who could ever hope to outwit a scheming woman?

The highest-ranking concubine had tried to press Myrine into a corner, flaunting her superior status and trying to rip her jewellery away, but Myrine had simply slapped her full in the face. Farida had wailed and cursed while nearly rolling like a child on the floor, but thankfully Jamshid had taken Myrine�s side, having seen what had transpired. And so Myrine had established herself as nearly invincible�a foreign woman of unique beauty who could speak up for herself in Persian and was not afraid to hit back. It helped that Jamshid, who was himself a foreign eunuch from Ethiopia, had taken a special liking to her, and he lavished on her the most fragrant oils, the most beautiful clothes and the very best makeup.

But still, it had been a lonely few weeks, and she had managed to glean only a few garbled bits of information from the foreign concubines.

Thekingalmostnevervisitedtheharem.

Someoftheconcubineshadneverevenfelthistouch.

Afewofthemhadseenhimonlyonce�andthatfromadistance.

And so life in the palace harem seemed a decadent but dull experience. Myrine sighed as she lounged against silk pillows, trailing the tips of her fingers in one of the indoor ponds. The eunuchs had arranged a sort of garden tea party for the concubines�which really meant that the Persian noblewomen monopolized the sweet cakes, leaving the foreigners and peasants to skulk about the edges of the garden aimlessly.

Not that Myrine was concerned with such trivialities.

A palace to live in, beautiful clothes to wear and delicious food to eat�what more could she have asked for in life? Myrine sighed again, her fingers unconsciously reaching up to touch the three poisoned needles resting in her hair. It was all for naught if she could not accomplish what she had been sent to do�and she could not do anything unless she could be alone with the king.

The sounding of loud gongs interrupted her reverie, and Myrine looked up to see all the eunuchs stand to attention and all the concubines scramble into prostrate positions on the luxurious carpets. Though this had never happened before, she could guess what event the cymbals announced.

Thekingwasonhisway.

She, too, quickly slid away from her pillows, sank to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor. It was not a moment too soon, for just then the king strode into the main hall of the harem, accompanied by two servants carrying feathered fans. He stopped when he reached an ornately carved bench at the apex of the hall. Sitting, he waved away his attendants.

�I feel it has been too long since my last visit,� King Darius announced. �Rise and entertain me, for I would enjoy your company.�

The women rose as one, each quickly adopting her own strategy to catch and keep the king�s attention. As expected, Farida quickly claimed a spot at Darius�s feet, gently sweeping his calves with her long dark curls. Others began to twirl around him, fluttering like eager butterflies. Some even adopted impossibly contorted positions on the floor in front of him, flaunting their flexibility as a merchant flaunts his wares on the streets.

But Myrine immediately saw what the others refused to acknowledge�that their king was bored. Though his eyes steadily wandered the room, his gaze was distant and his facial expression cool. She knew the look; it was the look of a man who had other, more pressing things to do.

Really, she thought to herself, ishesocommittedtohisempirethathewouldevenforgoamoment�scarnalpleasurewithwillingwomen?

Well, she knew of one sure way to make herself stand out when there were many women fawning over one distracted man�and that was to feign indifference.

Myrine slowly began to pace around the edge of the room, a slight sway to her hips and catlike grace in her steps. She let her arms dangle casually as she walked, and made it a point to look everywhere but at the king. Her red scarves rippled as she walked, and from the corner of her eye she saw that the scarlet colour had caught the king�s attention. Without changing her pace or looking back, she continued to sashay away until she reached the opposite end of the hall. She knew without turning that his eyes followed her. Smiling to herself, she began to dance. She swayed slowly, as if in time to music that no one else could hear. And when she turned, she kept her eyes closed, as if she were lost in her own world. She began to smooth her palms up and down her body, mimicking the movements of a lover. Parting her lips, she moistened them with the tip of her tongue as if she were about to find release on her own. She cupped her breasts and threw her head back, her hips twisting in jerking circles.

King Darius sat and stared, transfixed at the spectacle of a woman enjoying herself while completely oblivious to his presence. Just moments ago he had been counting the minutes, wondering how much longer he would have to stay in the harem until he could return to reading treaties, approving building plans and inspecting his troops. His advisers grew anxious if he did not visit the harem at least once a month, and while the concubines were not unpleasant, there were just so many other things he needed to do.

But all thoughts of kingly duties fled his mind the moment he saw his newest concubine begin to dance. His eyes had trailed her as she walked the perimeter of the room�a soldier�s habit, perhaps�and he had not been able to tear his gaze away since.

How he wished that he could be her hands, sliding up that smooth flesh! How he yearned to have those perfectly plump, moist lips part for his tongue!

His thoughts ground to a sudden halt.

Why should he restrict himself to imagining? He was king, and she was his.

Darius stood suddenly, ignoring how the other concubines fell away in surprise. He stalked across the room with quick strides. The golden-haired woman, whose eyes were still closed, had the audacity to turn and face the other way just as he reached her, so he planted his hands on her hips and pulled her back into him.

�You are Myrine of Scythia, as I recall,� he whispered huskily in her ear.

�My king,� she responded, lazily opening her eyes but not turning.

She continued to sway from side to side, and Darius moved with her, hooking one arm around her waist to anchor her to him. She raised her arms above her head and arched backward so that she was pressed to his chest. She shimmied suddenly, her bottom grinding into his groin, and he barely suppressed a groan.

�Your talents never cease to amaze me,� he said, his lips dropping to her neck.

Myrine twisted in his arms and hooked one knee over his hip. Gripping his shoulders, she began to rub up and down his body justso.

�And I have many more talents that would please you, my king,� she breathed seductively, her breath warming his cheek.

�A tempting proposition,� he muttered as he moulded his palms to the undersides of her thighs, pulling her heat closer to his.

Myrine smirked to herself. Onemoretrick, she told herself, onemoretrickandIwillfinallyhavehimalone.

�I am here for your pleasure alone, my king,� she said, suddenly pulling away.

She stepped back and dropped into a bow with a flourish.

Darius felt as if his world had been wrenched away with the loss of her touch. He felt an aching, desperate need�hot and angry�crawl across his skin. The sensation was so intense it was almost painful. Business be damned; he would allow himself this one indulgence.

�Myrine of Scythia,� Darius commanded hoarsely. �You will visit my bed tonight.�

�Tonight, my king?� Myrine stepped forward and lightly trailed her fingernails down his bare chest. �I am ready now.�

Darius raised an eyebrow at her boldness, which had caused the other concubines to gasp in shock. He reached out to cup her cheek and then pulled her close so that his mouth was at her ear.

�Now, my dear?� he repeated, his voice a low warning.

�Yes, my king,� she answered, sliding her palms over the sharp ridges of his abdomen.

�Here?�

�Anywhere you wish, my king.�

Darius chuckled darkly. He wove his fingers through her hair and gently pulled her head back so that he could meet her sultry gaze. She was ripe with desire and he was ravenous with need�why not enjoy the fire while it was still burning?

�Very well,� he said with a lusty grin.

He stepped away, spinning around on one heel to march briskly away.

�Follow me to my chambers, royal concubine Myrine,� he barked.

Myrine inclined her head and, resisting the urge to smile at her first step to victory, followed a step behind. She trailed after him as he strode through the high-arched corridors of the inner palace and watched the way his shoulder muscles moved as he walked. She smirked at his stiff gait and bunching muscles; this was a man unaccustomed to letting his baser instincts reign. She could tell that he was sharply focused on ruling, dismissing simple pleasures in favour of the needs of his people. She knew the type well�once released from his self-imposed bonds, he would be furious in his lovemaking. She could easily coax him to the edge of a raging passion, bring him to a startling completion and then...then she would complete her mission while he was distracted in the throes of ecstasy, slip away and claim her reward from King Scylas.

It was all coming together now.

As King Darius brushed through a magnificent archway, a pair of guards hurried to pull open two gigantic doors, revealing an impressive suite of bedchambers. The walls were covered in skilful etchings and swathes of royal silk. Beautifully carved columns surrounded a luxurious bed covered in fine silks and plush pillows. Darius paused to mutter instructions to his guards as he waved Myrine forward. She stepped into the room, marvelling at its grandeur.

The sound of the doors shutting startled her into turning to face the emperor.

�And how do you like my bedchambers, Myrine?� Darius asked as he casually made his way to a table upon which sat a flask of fine wine.

�It is fit for any king of men or gods,� she answered, smiling sweetly.

Darius barked a dry laugh as he sipped from his chalice of wine.

�Flattery does not suit those lips,� he tutted playfully. �You are much more interesting than that, I imagine.�

�You are mistaken, my king,� Myrine challenged coquettishly. �I am but a simple girl.�

Darius set his chalice down and leaned back against one of the pillars, folding his arms over his chest.

�Lies do not suit your lips either, my dear.�

Myrine grinned. Holding his fiery gaze, she turned and climbed onto his bed, slowly crawling to its centre on her hands and knees and giving him a tantalizing view of her bottom. Then, looking over one shoulder, she rose onto her knees and began to unclasp the hooks of her bustier.

�And what would suit my lips, my king?� she asked breathlessly as she tossed the garment to the floor.

Darius�s mouth went dry. She was presenting him only with a view of her slender back, but he could just make out the shadow of the side of her breast. She folded her arms over her chest and turned, easing herself into lounging on the pillows.

�I can think of many things that I would love to have upon your lips,� he replied, suddenly hoarse. �And none of them are words.�

Myrine laughed, and it was like the sweet ringing of silver bells. She sat up and pulled her arms away from her chest, letting her pert breasts sway as they fell from her grasp.

�Come, my king,� Myrine invited coyly, �let me show you how skilful my lips can be.�

Darius did not need to be further encouraged. In a few long strides, he had crossed the room and was clambering onto the bed. Myrine rose to greet him, her palms sliding under his silk vest. She gently pushed the jacket from his shoulders and trailed nibbling kisses from his jaw and down his neck to the veins bulging in his shoulder. Darius let out a soft groan, his hands fisting in her hair. Myrine�s soft lips dipped lower, her tongue outlining the relief of his muscled torso. He gasped as her teeth caught the edge of his nipple as she continued her downward exploration. When she exhaled her cool breath over his moistened skin, he could hold back no longer.

Shrugging out of his vest, he pushed her down onto the mattress by her shoulders. Then for the barest of moments he paused, staring down at her with eyes gleaming with desire. She had been startled by the sudden change in positions, and her lips were slightly parted in surprise. Her golden hair fanned out around her delicate face like a halo of sunshine, accenting her ivory skin.

�Your lips are divine,� Darius breathed.

And then his lips descended upon hers, his tongue sweeping demandingly into her mouth. He palmed one of her breasts, circling its nub with his rough thumb, and she arched into his touch. As he settled between her parted legs, she began to twist her hips in a circular motion. The delicious friction sent his senses into a frenzy; so much so that he hardly noticed when she managed to flip their positions so that she straddled him as he lay on his back. He watched with hungry eyes as she rocked above him, the erect peaks of her bosom swaying in time to her thrusts. He dug his fingers into her hip and hooked his nails into her waistband, intent on ripping away the sheer layers of gauze that still separated them. His other hand reached up to cradle the nape of her neck, drawing her down for another searing kiss.

Thetimeisripe.

Through a haze of pleasure, Myrine admitted to herself that a better chance might never present itself. Here, in the privacy of his bedchambers, she could plunge one of her poisoned hairpins into his arm, slide away and slip out the open window, disappearing from Persia forever with Scylas�s help.

But she groaned as the thick ridge of his shaft prodded the aching nub of her sex, sending flurries of tingling sensations up her spine.

Itreallywouldbeashame.

He was a good king. A powerful ruler. An able lover. And quite possibly the best man she had ever met.

Butit�snowornever.

Slightly chagrined, Myrine knew she had no choice�for her life was on the line, as well.

She brought her arms up and pretended to run her fingers through her own hair as if in blind passion. Then, as she continued to rock against him, she slowly began to pull one of her needles from her hair.

Afewmoreseconds...

�Great King Darius!� a panicked voice called from without.

Myrine froze in her actions as Darius gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back, still madly grinding against her.

�What?� He bit out the words harshly. �Do you dare to interrupt? Do you want to die?�

�But my king,� the voice continued hastily, �you instructed us to inform you the minute the scouts returned.�

Darius stilled above her, his breath coming in short pants.

�And have they?�

�Yes, my king,� the messenger replied in a rush of hurried words from beyond the closed doors. �And they have brought back their wounded, just as you commanded.�

Darius rose onto his knees, his eyes still dark with hooded passion. His hands left Myrine�s sweat-slick skin to clench furiously at his sides.

�And who received them?�

�I did, my king.�

It was the voice of the vizier, Araxes.

�And tell me, Araxes,� Darius commanded, his eyes still not leaving Myrine�s prone form. �In what condition were they?�

�If I may enter, my king,� Araxes suggested mildly, �I could give you a full account.�

Darius sighed deeply and willed his lust to cool. He leaned down to press an almost chaste kiss to her forehead.

�I am not done with you yet, my concubine,� he grunted in a frustrated tone.

Sliding away from Myrine and off the bed, he grabbed her discarded clothes and tossed them in her direction.

�Put those on,� he told her. He waited while Myrine hastily pulled on her clothes, then turned to the doors and commanded brusquely, �Enter, Vizier Araxes, and give me a full report.�

Myrine had just finished doing up the hooks on her bustier when the doors swung open and Araxes marched in, with a red-faced attendant in tow.

�Greatest apologies, my king,� Araxes said, his eyes sliding briefly to Myrine, �for interrupting you at this most inopportune time.�

�Get on with it, old man,� Darius said with a wave of his hand.

�The northern scouts have returned, and they have brought with them nearly a dozen wounded or dying men.�

�Where are they now?�

�At the gates of the lower palace.�

�Have them brought to the infirmary I had constructed last month,� Darius commanded curtly as he pulled on his vest once more. �I will come to supervise their treatment myself.�

�Shall I call for the priests, my king?�

�The priests?� Darius paused to regard his chief incredulously. �Why? So they can pray for them?� He shook his head. �No, send your boy to call for the apothecaries and doctors.�

�Blasphemy, my great lord and king,� Araxes breathed, shaking his head gravely. �For how long will you continue on this path?�

�Until we understand how to heal our men rather than wait and watch them die whilst we babble prayers,� Darius said sternly. �Now do as I command, old man.�

With a sigh, Araxes sent his messenger boy off with a wave of his fingers. He turned back to face his king, his face now a mask of determination.

�I shall go to oversee their progress,� Darius said as he strode away. �Send my concubine back to the harem.� He paused to shoot Myrine a lewd grin. �But you will come to me tonight, my dear,� he continued with a smirk, �and we will finish what we started.�

Myrine nodded, struck mute. With that, the king marched away, his steps clipped with purpose, and Myrine was left alone with Araxes.

�Oh, may the gods have mercy on us,� Araxes said fondly, his crackling voice exasperated. �What our young emperor will not do for the sake of his people.� He turned beady eyes on her. �Come now,� he said sharply. �I shall escort you back to the harem.�

Myrine stood and obediently trailed after the vizier. She was puzzled, for she had never heard of a king who visited dying foot soldiers�much less a king who was interested in healing them. She was curious to see if she could wheedle a small morsel of information from the old man.

�My lord grand vizier,� she ventured in a tiny voice, �what are the apothe...?�

She pretended to forget the word, and the vizier exhaled condescendingly.

�Apothecaries, my child,� he corrected. �Our king has created a body of apothecaries and doctors.�

�Why?� she asked innocently.

�He has dreamed of finding ways to cure illness, to fend off poison, to heal injuries.� Araxes clicked his tongue disapprovingly. �They practice�what does he call it? Medicine. He rejects the prayers of the priests and even thinks to share this so-called medicine with the common people!�

Araxes stopped, remembering himself. He turned to wag a warning finger in Myrine�s face.

�I have said too much,� he said angrily. �And you have heard too much. Remember this well, Scythian,� he warned menacingly. �You are no longer a princess�and even if you were, your life would not be spared if you let one word of what was said pass those pretty lips!�

Huffing, Araxes turned and marched away. Myrine followed at a more sedate pace.

No, she thought darkly, Iamnoprincess.

Only Scylas knew her true heritage, and he would never tell. And, unfortunately for Myrine, only Scylas could free her from her bonds. It was a shame, she thought gloomily, for King Darius seemed a much greater king than Scylas had ever been.

Her heart heavy, Myrine began to wonder�had she chosen the wrong king?

Chapter 3

Darius was not pleased. He sat atop his throne, barely able to hide his simmering anger beneath a cold mask of indifference. His advisers had insisted on this banquet against his wishes, and he had been coerced into entertaining his high-profile guests. A few noble officials reclined on cushions in a large semicircle at the base of the dais, surrounded by plates of dried fruit and steaming delicacies. The most beautiful women of his harem had been summoned to dance for his guests�a show of good faith and generosity.

And why?

It was all to impress Atossa, the very marriageable daughter of Cyrus, a man with considerable wealth and military clout. Darius gritted his teeth. A political marriage was the very last thing he needed, especially given that Atossa was infamous for using her noble influence to promote her own kin and garner favours. She was a manipulator through and through, and he could not afford to have her in his court�much less as his wife!

As she served wine to the imperial guests, Myrine chanced a glance up to the royal dais. King Darius�s mouth was set in a thin, grim line�despite being seated beside Atossa, a most beautiful woman indeed. She studied the woman covertly. Atossa was the epitome of Persian beauty, with luxurious black curls, large almond-shaped eyes and a thin, delicate nose. When she smiled, her scarlet lips parted to reveal a blinding flash of white teeth. Surely the king could ask for no more in a bride?

But still, he was plainly unhappy with the situation.

Atossa leaned over to whisper something in Darius�s ear, her hand lightly resting on his forearm, and Myrine felt a sharp pang in her chest. What was it? She did not have time to ponder the feeling as the drunken guest she was serving grabbed her upper arm.

Jamshid quickly intervened.

�You may look, but you are not to touch the concubines,� he said, pulling Myrine away. �They belong to his majesty alone.�

The man guffawed and clapped his hands.

�Dance,� Jamshid muttered under his breath, �so that he is distracted.�

Myrine quickly set down her tray and rose. She took a few paces back and began to dance. It was slow at first; she rose to her tiptoes and twisted around with an elegant arch to her back. She stretched upward, her hands spread to the ceiling as she lifted one leg in front of her in a perfectly straight line. Someone gasped as she let her head dip back, low to the floor, executing a move that seemed to defy gravity. Her fingertips touched the floor and she flipped backward into a handstand before spinning and landing on the floor in a perfect split. With a quick jerk she was back to her feet and performing another round of acrobatics.

All mouths in the banquet hall had stilled, and all eyes were on the dancing concubine. Darius glanced at Atossa from the corner of his eye; she, too, was transfixed with Myrine�s amazing display. He had to admit that he was grudgingly pleased by the effect of her dancing; this was a performance meant to amaze and astound, not to arouse and titillate.

�A foreigner?� Atossa whispered, her eyes not leaving Myrine�s form.

Despite himself, Darius bristled at her disdainful tone.

�A new addition to my harem,� he pronounced after a moment. �A former princess.�

�You have quite the collection of women,� Atossa said coldly. �Is there no end to your wealth?�

Darius sensed a potential opportunity to rebuff Atossa�s advances.

�I plan to spend the evening in the harem,� he commented, casually lifting a hand to inspect his nails. �Perhaps you would like a tour of the inner palace, as I wish to retire shortly.�

�Of course, my king.�

Darius rose and lifted a hand to stop the celebration.

�Royal concubines,� he announced, �the lady Atossa and I will have a short walk around the inner palace. Then I plan to spend the evening with one of you tonight, so make ready at once.�

A wave of feminine giggles erupted as the concubines hurriedly pulled away from whoever they were serving. They filed as one out the banquet-hall doors, and Myrine let herself get caught up in the stream. As soon as they entered the harem, the eunuchs set about their work. The concubines clamoured for attention; makeup, clothing, bedspreads in their private quarters-everything seemed an emergency.

�Come, Myrine,� Jamshid urged her, quietly pulling her aside. �I have prepared fine oils and paints for your use.�

Myrine followed Jamshid to her suite, where she docilely submitted to his fussing. After only a few minutes she appeared even more radiant than before-a tint of rouge on her fair cheeks, a dark lining of kohl around her blue eyes and a hint of coral-pink on her pouting lips. She changed into an outfit that consisted of several sheer chiffon veils wrapped around her breasts and hips; the material clung to her curves and just barely obscured the shadows of her body.

�Go, now,� Jamshid prompted. �I will prepare your chambers should his majesty visit you.�

Myrine hurried out to the harem�s main courtyard, where most of the concubines were already waiting. The gongs sounded, they all bowed, and Darius walked in with Atossa on his arm.

�Well,� Darius said, turning to his marriage prospect, �what do you think?�

Atossa shrugged, her eyes casually roving over the women who might well be her rivals for the king�s affections in the future.

�Does my collection please you?� Darius needled shrewdly. �Perhaps you would like to help me choose my bed slave for the night?�

Atossa turned to him, her eyebrows haughtily raised. Darius smirked.

�Rise, my concubines,� he commanded. �My guest would have a look at you.�

Atossa pulled away from the king and wandered about the hall, pausing to inspect the concubines as one would fruits at a market stall. She stopped in front of Farida and lifted her chin with a finger, tilting her face back and forth. Though Farida seemed pleased, it was evident to all the others that Atossa had simply chosen a paler, less impressive version of herself. For though Farida was beautiful, her dark hair was just slightly less lustrous and her skin less golden.

�This one seems pleasing enough,� she commented lightly, turning back to face the king.

Myrine hid a frown. All her work earlier would be for nothing if Darius chose another. But she needn�t have worried.

�And what of my newest acquisition?� He beckoned to Myrine, who diligently raised her head. �This one promises a more...exotic experience, do you not think?�

Atossa sniffed delicately. �I do not have a taste for foreign things.�

Darius walked over to Myrine and placed one hand under her chin, lifting her face so that her eyes caught the light.

�But I do,� he countered lightly. �In fact, I find this foreign flesh very pleasing indeed. What do you think, Atossa? Should I not desire her?�

�It is not my place to tell the king what he should and should not desire,� Atossa said loftily.

Darius�s eyes grew sharp.

�Well said, lady Atossa,� he said, his tone dropping to a low, dangerous timbre. �Now go and give your father the very same words. I�m sure you understand my meaning.�

Atossa blinked and stiffened. An angry blush spread up her neck. Nostrils flaring, she bowed her head.

�I will give my father your message, my king,� she said, her voice nearly trembling.

Then, with a toss of her head, she turned and marched out of the harem. Darius sighed.

�You are all dismissed for the evening,� he said, signalling his servants to lead the concubines away.

Myrine edged backward, only to have Darius catch her by the elbow.

�Not you,� he said, drawing her close. �I believe we have unfinished business, you and I.�

�Yes, my king,� Myrine replied, dipping her head.

�Lead me to your quarters,� he directed, his voice slightly drawn.

Myrine gently guided the king through the harem�s corridors to her suite of rooms. Jamshid was waiting to greet them. He held out a silver tray bearing a cool drink for the king before he drew the heavy drapes closed to leave them alone. Darius sipped the honeyed water slowly as he paced around Myrine�s chamber. It was nowhere near as opulent as his own, but he could plainly see that she had been favoured by the eunuchs, for there were lush tapestries and silk aplenty.

�You have adapted well, I see,� he said drily.

�And you are tired, my king,� she cooed. �Come, let me ease your fatigue.�

Darius chuckled and lowered himself onto a pile of large pillows that had been strewn haphazardly over a low mattress.

�Are all Scythian women so bold?� he questioned.

�No,� Myrine admitted as she settled in behind him, �we are not.�

She gently peeled away his overcoat. After oiling her hands, she began to work her fingers into his shoulders, gradually increasing the pressure of her kneading until he groaned in satisfaction. Myrine continued to massage his back, applying pressure where she felt the knots of tension.

�You are a woman like none other,� Darius breathed admiringly.

Andyouareakinglikenoneother, she thought to herself.

She had never before seen a ruler so deftly handle a political disaster, nor so gently treat his slaves. She had only known men to take what they wanted without care or compassion, but this man�this man was different.

She slid her hands around his shoulders to his chest, her fingers skilfully working around his muscles. Lowering her lips to his shoulder, she began to trace the lines of his veins with the tip of her tongue.

Darius�s breath caught in his throat as Myrine lightly scraped the edges of her teeth down his shoulder blade. He spun around, and she fell back against the heaps of pillows. He caged her between his arms and legs. Nosing forward gently, he planted row upon row of hot kisses down the column of her throat. She mewled as he splayed his fingers over her ribs. There was a ripping sound and a cool rush of air as he suddenly ripped away the fine gauze binding her breasts. He gathered her up in his arms and lavished her soft mounds with kisses. Then he took the peak of her breast in his hot mouth. When he began to alternate between sharp tugs and a gentle laving with his tongue, she could not help but cry out in pleasure.

�My king,� she breathed helplessly.

�What do you need, my darling one?� he asked, lifting his head to meet her hazy eyes.

�I want��

Her words were abruptly cut off as he pinched one nipple, rolling the bead between his thumb and forefinger.

�What was that?� he teased, giving her breast a firm squeeze.

With a throaty moan, Myrine arched up off the pillows and tangled her legs around his hips. She rocked desperately against his engorged member, seeking the relief that she knew only he could give. Darius chuckled.

�Greedy little thing,� he whispered as he continued his slow, pleasurable tortures.

He slipped his hand up her inner thigh, and with two fingers he had her writhing in delight beneath him. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades, and when he withdrew his fingers, they were slick and sweet with her essence. She collapsed onto the pillows, panting.

�We�re not even nearly done yet,� Darius warned with a wide grin.

�No,� Myrine agreed breathlessly, �we�re not.�

Tangling her fingers in his curls, she pulled him down for a slow, winding kiss as her hands worked the bindings of his trousers. She felt them give and pushed them away. He sprang free, pulsing and hard. She gripped him in her hands, working his length with smooth, practiced strokes. He grunted into her mouth and reached for the fabric tied at her hips, and she arched up to let him pull the last of her coverings away. But when Myrine made as if to guide him in, he pulled away slightly, his gaze dark and intense.

�No,� he growled, �I want to see you when we join.�

He splayed the fingers on one large hand over her slim neck, gently pinning her in place. Holding her impassioned eyes with his own, he leaned forward until their noses were barely touching.

�Remember this moment, Myrine of Scythia,� he said in a low whisper, his warm breath moistening her lashes.

And then he thrust forward, filling her completely in one stroke. Myrine gasped, her mouth agape in pleasure, but Darius did not release her and did not allow her to look away. Hooking one of her knees in the crook of his arm, he withdrew�only to thrust forward again fully. Myrine cried out as his wide girth filled and completed her. With a groan, he began to plunge his hips against hers with wild abandon. Lost in carnal sensations, Myrine could hear nothing but the slap of his skin against hers and his hoarse grunts.

But through the bright cloudiness of burning lust, she dimly remembered her purpose, her one goal. And there could be no better moment than this.

Sheneededtogetontop.

Myrine dug her fingers into his shoulders and twisted upward so that he lay on his back, propped up by the silken cushions. Planting her small hands on his chest, she rocked against him, setting a furious rhythm. He grabbed her hips, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

She threw her head back in rapture, pleasure spiking up her spine as the angle of his thrusts twisted justso�and for a brief moment she lost all recollection of her mission. Her mind warred with her body as she resisted the urge to simply ride out her pleasure on his slick body.

HereisblissI�veneverknownbefore, she thought desperately. But it could not last forever.

Myrine closed her eyes and reached for her poisoned hairpins. Her future was on the line, and she needed to follow through or she would surely lose more than just a few minutes of carnal pleasure.

But then Darius rose onto his elbows and took the hardened caramel nub of one of her breasts between his teeth. He alternated between laving the sensitive bud with his tongue and tugging at it gently with his teeth. Myrine cried out in surprise and delight, her fingers dropping away from her weapons.

Stop! she shouted inwardly at herself as the distracting haze of passion swirled once more through her head.

Darius trailed roughened fingertips down her ribs and over her hips. She began to pant like a wild, crazed animal as he timed his thrusts to the furious working of his tongue and fingers. Myrine shivered under his deft touch�both from ecstasy and fear. No man had ever brought her so close to completion; no man had ever turned her own body against her.

Itcouldnotlast. Itwouldnotlast.

With one last, desperate scramble for control, Myrine tugged the needles free and clasped them fiercely in her palm. All she needed to do to complete her mission was to lightly pierce his skin�just one scratch! Surely she could manage that despite the roaring in her ears.

And then Darius grabbed her hips and began to move her forcefully upon him. The veins in his biceps bulged as he grunted, his superior strength making her slide faster, deeper and harder than she ever had before. All rational thought fled her mind as each frenzied thrust plunged her closer to an elusive delirium. Her toes curled as her moans grew into hoarse screams. With a cry, Myrine dropped the three golden hairpins onto the mattress behind her, and they disappeared amid the pile of pillows�completely forgotten in the throes of passion.

Darius�s fingers dug deep into her hip as he thrust upward one last time, and together they found a release like none they had had before. Spent and satiated, they tumbled away from each other, collapsing in a sweaty tangle of limbs onto the silk sheets. Just before Myrine could drift off to sleep, Darius rolled over and trailed a fingertip down her arm.

�Do not sleep, darling one,� he whispered fondly.

�Will you keep me awake?� Myrine asked lethargically.

�Yes, my sweet,� he answered. �Or did you think that your duty would be fulfilled so quickly?�

�Quickly?� Myrine muttered in disbelief. �Have you enough strength for more?�

�Do you dare question my strength, concubine?� Darius raised a questioning eyebrow, his lips turning up in a dark smirk. �Or do you simply fear being unable to satisfy me?�

Myrine sat up, her eyes gleaming at the challenge.

Assassinationbecursed, she thought. If she could capture his attention through a game of sex and desire, then she would have him at her mercy at any moment, and could easily land the finishing blow after having her fill of his...assets.

This man had dared to question her sensual prowess, and she had every intention of proving him wrong.

But as Myrine began to lead the king through a very thorough demonstration of her skill, she was completely oblivious to the sound of shifting velvet drapes. If she had just turned her head a fraction to the side, she would have caught a glimpse of a very unwelcome observer�one who had seen just enough to turn her plans to dust.

Chapter 4

Myrine crept through the marble corridors, silently and stealthily tracing the king�s steps. Moving through the cool shadows like a ghost, she easily evaded the sharp eyes of the guards and the curious stares of servants. It helped that the desert heat of high noon had made everyone slightly lethargic. But still, the palace grounds were extensive, and as she slowly made her way to her goal, she let her mind wander to the wanton pleasures of the night before.

The young king had given as good as he got, and they�d traded sensual tricks in a heated battle that had lasted well into the early hours of the morning. When finally they had tumbled apart, exhausted and sated, Myrine hadn�t had the strength to even lift her head�much less contemplate an attempt at assassination. She had slept soundly for the first time in ages, not even waking at the smells of the midmorning meal. The sun had climbed almost to its zenith when she had finally managed to rouse herself enough to bathe and dress.

It had been slightly troubling that she hadn�t been able to find her golden hairpins amongst the piles of pillows on her bed, but after catching whispers that the king was visiting soldiers in the palace courtyard, she decided to abandon her search in order to gather information about the king�s routines.

And so she had snuck out of the harem and was skilfully slipping unnoticed toward the courtyard. The sounds of wagon wheels, animals and the clink and clash of metal gradually grew louder, and Myrine knew she was close. She slid around one last imposing pillar and was greeted by the sight of courtyard chaos. Dust rose in clouds from where animals, carts and armoured men trailed after one another. Rough shouts and commands could be heard echoing from pavilion to pavilion.

But only one voice interested her�and it rose easily above the rest.

Myrine�s sharp eyes travelled to where the sound of Darius�s clear baritone had come from. Her eyes widened slightly at the scene he cut.

The king of Persia was bare chested and wore just a pair of loose-cut trousers and sandals. The only clue to his regal status was the intricate gold armband that circled his biceps. Myrine watched as he disappeared into a shaded pavilion, and she followed him, ducking behind massive pillars and statues. Peering around one of the marble columns, she studied his handsome form.

King Darius was bent over a wounded soldier, and two elderly men who held various bottles and a tray of instruments were at his side. Perspiration beaded on his temple as he smoothed a salve over a grotesquely infected injury, his fingers sure and his eyes shining with determination. He spoke in low tones, his smooth, deep voice calm and cool. After finishing with a bandage, he carefully rinsed his hands in a bowl of water and moved to the next soldier.

Without thinking, Myrine followed. Her head spun with questions. What was such a powerful king doing amongst his peasant soldiers? She carefully circled his position, her eyes trained on his concentrated expression. Then suddenly, before she could react, his eyes rose�and landed squarely on her face. For a moment she froze as their eyes met. Then she ducked behind a pillar and took to her heels, silently fleeing in the quiet shadows of the hall.

But she had not been nearly quick enough.

Firm fingers latched on to to her upper arm, and she was suddenly spun around and backed up into the cool surface of a wide column. Her chest heaving and her cheeks flushed, she was now face-to-face with Darius�s stormy glare.

�And what are you doing away from the inner palace, my concubine?� he asked, his large hands pinning hers to the smooth marble.

�My king,� she began, her voice faltering slightly, �I only wanted to see your work.�

�My work?� He raised a brow. �And why would a royal concubine be interested in learning about a king�s work?� He lifted a hand to trace a fingertip down the line of her jaw. �Why would she leave the harem to visit the courtyard when such an act is strictly forbidden?�

Myrine swallowed nervously. She had no weapons and no excuses. Unless...

�You spoke of physicians and apothecaries,� she said, her eyes wide and pleading,.�I only wished to see what these were.�

�Is that so?�

�Yes, my king,� Myrine replied emphatically. �The art of healing is very intriguing.�

�You wish to learn about medicine?� Darius asked, his tone taking on a boyishly eager lilt.

Myrine fought the urge to avert her eyes; though it was indeed fascinating, healing was perhaps the least among her priorities at the moment.

�Yes,� she breathed, sliding her hands up his sinewy forearms.

Darius cupped her thighs in his palms and slid her up the pillar so that her legs had to wind around his waist for balance. She braced herself by wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, and he pressed in close, his lips soft against her neck.

�How refreshing,� he murmured against her sensitive flesh. �A woman who is genuinely interested in the application of science.�

�I am but a humble servant,� Myrine whispered at his ear. �One who wishes to please her king.�

Darius slid his hands up her gauzy skirt, and she gently scraped the edge of her teeth down the ridge of his ear.

�And how could I ignore such a woman,� he grunted as he began to grind against her, �when she has gone to such lengths to please her king?�

His fingers trailed up her inner thighs, and she gasped as he found a particularly delicate spot. He began to tease her mercilessly as her breathing grew short and needy. She twisted in his grasp, her jaw falling slack with pleasure.

Suddenly he pulled away, and Myrine nearly sank to the floor in disbelief. She looked up, almost wounded with unspent lust. Darius was an imposing shadow above her, his tawny eyes dark with desire.

�Any more,� he said gruffly, �and the whole courtyard will hear you.�

Myrine�s eyes widened. Had she been so lost in sensation?

�Come,� Darius commanded, holding out a hand, �I would retire immediately to your quarters. I wish to revisit some of the...techniques you showed me last night.�

Myrine eagerly took his hand and pulled herself up. He led her through the winding corridors, her arm tucked through his in an unusual display of affection.

�So,� he said, his voice soft, �do you truly wish to learn about medicine?�

�Truly,� she answered quietly.

�If it pleases you,� he suggested, �I could allow you to assist my physicians and apothecaries. I would insist that you cover your body fully, of course, but you would learn to heal common injuries.�

�You would allow me this freedom, my lord?� Myrine asked disbelievingly.

Darius shrugged one shoulder.

�It pleases me to do so,� he said simply.

They walked the rest of the way to the harem in silence, he contemplating the pleasures to come and she marvelling over his proffered opportunity. Would a king really allow a concubine to learn alongside his learned men? Would he truly stand by this promise?

For a moment Myrine allowed herself to daydream about what her life could be like if she were indeed a simple concubine in Darius�s court�and not trying to take his life.

Icouldbehappy, she admitted to herself. Andperhaps...

Myrine began to turn over several courses of action in her mind�ones that did not involve either her death or Darius�s death. She could not simply abandon her mission, for Scylas would certainly return to kill her or expose her to the king. But if she could just find a way to turn the king against Scylas, perhaps she could preempt such an attack.

Asimpleseedofdoubt...

She could confide in Jamshid that Scylas had tried to convince her to kill the king�knowing full well that such news would instantly be carried to the king, thus incriminating Scylas and making her look the heroine. A devious plan began to take shape in her mind, and she allowed herself a tiny smile.

Yes, she thought, itcouldbedone.

As they reached the entrance to the harem, Jamshid appeared silently, his brows rising incredulously.

�Have this concubine�s rooms prepared for our arrival,� Darius commanded imperiously. �I wish for her to entertain me immediately.�

Jamshid responded with a quick nod and ran ahead, while the couple strode into the harem�s main foyer. They were greeted with gasps of surprise and the wide-eyed stares of eunuchs and concubines, all wondering how the foreign concubine had managed to meet their king outside the sanctum of the inner palace�and how she had managed to catch his attention for the second day in a row.

Darius and Myrine were about to head for her suite when Farida tumbled into the hall. Her hair was dishevelled, her face streaked with kohl and her clothes a mess.

�My king,� she wailed despairingly, �I have bitter news!�

Darius stopped, his lips turning down.

�Speak, woman,� he commanded. �What news could possibly interest me now?�

�I am a wretched woman,� Farida said, tearing at her clothes, �that I must be the bearer of such news, such horrible news!�

�Of what?� Darius barked, growing more and more impatient. �Speak your piece and be done with it, woman!�

�My king,� Farida announced with a high-pitched whine, �it is my sad duty to denounce one of your royal concubines as a deceiver and assassin�Myrine of Scythia!�

Darius�s expression grew stormy, his honey eyes darkening with anger.

�You dare to accuse my favoured consort?� he hissed, taking a menacing step toward the cowering woman.

�My proof, my king!� Farida proclaimed, not quite hiding the smirk behind her tears as she lifted her hands.

Myrine felt her heart stop beating in her chest. Her fingers went numb, and her blood turned to ice.

For in her hands Farida held three golden hairpins.

Chapter 5

�And what proof could these hair ornaments possibly offer?� Darius scoffed, his tone threatening.

�Good King Darius,� Farida confessed, her words dripping with false remorse, �I have been watching this foreign whore. She always wears these hairpins without fail. And last night, whilst she was entertaining you in her chambers, I watched her raise these pointed daggers against you!�

Myrine�s knuckles went white as she dug her nails into her palms. Thankfully, the oversized silk robe hid both her clenched fists and her trembling knees. She struggled to contain her breathing, sure that her racing heartbeat could be heard by all.

What awaited her now? Torture? Execution?

�You watched?� Darius accused angrily, �You have greatly overstepped your bounds, woman.�

�I saw nothing but the murderous gleam in her eye as she raised these to stab you, my king.� Farida backpedalled desperately. �If you would but examine them, I am certain you will find them to be weapons!�

Darius imperiously held out a hand, and Farida carefully placed the three incriminating needles in his waiting palm. He took them impatiently, holding each one in turn up to the light. Myrine watched as he balanced them in his fingers, testing their weight and inspecting the flower tips. Then he slowly brought them up to his nose and sniffed at the sharp ends. Finally he clasped the three hairpins in one hand and glowered down at Farida.

Myrine held her breath.

Farida suppressed a grin.

And then Darius sighed loudly.

�You have committed a grievous error, Farida of the house of Otanes,� he announced gravely. �By plotting against a rival, you have instead condemned yourself.�

�But my king,� Farida sputtered, blanching, �have I not saved you from this assassin?�

Darius shook his head, his frown deepening.

�Slander my favoured concubine no longer,� Darius threatened.

�But��

The king held up the golden hairpins.

�Your true nature and untruths have been found out,� he declared, tone severe, �for these hair ornaments are not weapons. Rather they were a gift to the concubine Myrine.�

Myrine closed her eyes.

Yes, she thought despairingly, agiftfromScylas.

All Farida had to do was point out that Scylas wanted Darius dead�and the ruse would be over.

But Darius had not yet finished talking.

�Yes, a gift,� he was saying to a stunned Farida. �From me.�

Farida gasped. Myrine reeled, her head suddenly swimming.

�So you see,� Darius continued with a shake of his head, �these cannot possibly be the tools of an assassin�unless you suspect me of wanting to kill myself.�

�My king,� Farida pleaded, pressing her forehead to the floor, �surely you know that I only wished for your safety and��

�It is too late,� Darius said, his tone sharp and implacable. �I no longer find you worthy as a concubine.�

�My king��

�Take her away,� he snapped. �Return her to her father�s house.� He looked down to glare at the prostrate woman, who had begun to sob. �Be grateful,� he said softly. �I could have had you whipped and executed for this insult. But I am only sending you away.�

As some of the eunuchs pulled Farida away, Darius looked over to Jamshid.

�Jamshid,� he instructed curtly, �escort Myrine to my bathing pools. Do not let her out of your sight until I arrive.�

�Yes, my king,� Jamshid replied with a bow.

Myrine hardly noticed her surroundings as Jamshid brought her through the imposing halls of the inner palace; her head felt too light, and she had to blink her eyes repeatedly to keep from seeing white spots.

What had just happened?

She knew that Darius knew that he had not given her the hairpins. She knew that he knew he had just told a lie.

Butwhy?

Questions swirled in her mind as she struggled to maintain some sort of calm�and to keep her legs from falling out from under her. It was a surprise, then, when she suddenly found herself standing in the bath houses, a thick fog of steam clouding her vision. She peered around nervously; the bathing hall was enormous and completely empty of servants. Several large rectangular pools at varying levels filled the hall, each connected by trickling waterfalls. Steam rose in billowing clouds, coating the walls and filling her throat.

�You took longer than I expected� came a deep voice from the centre of the main pool.

Myrine squinted through the layers of fog to see a regal figure standing waist deep in the water.

�Come to me, my concubine,� he commanded, his voice full of dark promise.

She crept closer to the pool, stopping when she reached the water�s edge.

�Enter,� he prodded.

Myrine swallowed nervously and let the robe slip from her shoulders before stepping into the warm pool. She waded slowly toward the waiting king, stopping when she stood before him. She bowed her head.

�Tell me, Scythian,� Darius demanded, his words slow and deliberate, �what was your true purpose in coming to Persia?�

�My king��

He stopped her by taking her chin between his fingers and lifting her face to catch her eyes with an intense glare.

�Choose your words carefully, Scythian,� he warned, �for they may be your last.�

�I was brought here by Scylas, king of Scythia,� Myrine answered softly, �to seduce the king of Persia.� She paused, her eyes slipping to the side. �And then to kill him.�

�I thought as much,� he said, flicking her chin away.

�My king,� Myrine asked, �if you knew the truth when Farida accused me, why didn�t you just��

�You are not permitted to ask me questions, Scythian,� Darius cut in shortly. �Only to answer them. So why did you not kill me when you had the chance? There were many times when you had ample opportunity to use your poisoned needles against me.�

Myrine hesitated, pressing her lips together.

�Because I could not,� she said quietly.

�Foolishness!�

�No!� Myrine protested weakly. �At first it was simply because of the heights of pleasure between us. But after...after today, I lost all desire to kill you. You are good to the common people�and to me! I wanted only to stay��

�Lies!� Darius accused. �What would a noblewoman know or care about the common people?�

�I am more common than you think,� Myrine said vehemently. �And I have seen your kindness to your slaves and your soldiers. I have never known a king to visit dying men! Or to offer learning to a woman!�

Darius narrowed his eyes, studying her carefully.

�So are you in fact a princess of Scythia? Or was that also a lie?� he asked, his voice dry.

�Yes, my king. It was a lie,� Myrine confessed, her voice dropping to no more than a whisper. �Scylas found me in a high-class brothel. I was in the process of being trained as an official�s bed slave when he selected me. No one but Scylas knows that I am not the daughter of one of his many concubines.�

�And what did he promise you as reward?�

�Gold,� she admitted. �And a ransom to buy my freedom from the brothel.�

Darius glared down at her, the muscles in his square jaw working furiously.

�How unselfish of you,� he bit out sarcastically, �to sacrifice your freedom for the sake of the common folk of Persia and their goodking. Was that really the reason you spared me?�

Myrine felt a choked sob rise in her chest.

�No matter,� Darius said tiredly, pressing a hand to his forehead. �A life for a life. You have spared mine, and I will spare yours. You are to be sent away immediately. From then on, you are on your own.�

�King Darius,� she began, only to be cut off again.

�Do not speak,� Darius barked, �unless it is to explain the true reason that you did not kill me when you had the chance. I will hear nothing else from those lips.�

Myrine�s face crumpled. She looked up, meeting his burning gaze. Hot tears welled in her bright blue eyes and then spilled over her cheeks, rolling down to drip down her chin.

�I couldn�t kill you,� she said dejectedly, her sweet voice cracking, �because you made me feel things that I had never felt before. Your touch set my skin on fire, and you gave pleasure rather than only taking it.� She looked away helplessly. �And I dared to hope that you could offer me a new life, not just of luxury but of learning. I dared to hope that with you...I could be free.�

She placed an open hand on his chest, and he felt the wild fluttering of her pulse through her palm. She was frightened and alone, and though she had originally been a tool to be used against him, he could not bring himself to hate her. Powerful men had always used beautiful women as weapons, and he was keenly aware that she had likely had no real choice at all in the matter. She had been nothing more than a pawn in another king�s game�a pawn that had dared to dream of escape.

Myrine looked up again, her soulful blue eyes pleading for some sort of understanding.

Stillsobeautiful...

He was kissing her before he realized it, his arms winding tightly around her, completely engulfing her slight frame in tense muscles. And she was kissing him back, her mouth working just as furiously as his. She gasped as he tried to pull her even closer. His hands were everywhere at once, and she was digging her nails into his back, desperately trying to find some purchase in the slick bath water. He cupped her face in his hands, and pulled away slightly to meet her fervent eyes.

�My king,� she breathed brokenly, �if only I had not been born a Scythian, I would have served you well.�

The admission was so simple, so honest, so true.

�One last time,� he murmured huskily. �I will grant you ecstasy one last time before I send you away forever.�

Darius groaned, catching the undersides of her thighs and lifting her so that she could twine her ankles around his waist. She began to roll her heat against him, her breath hitching in her throat.

�Please,� she begged in a moan, peppering his temples with soft kisses.

Darius obliged her, his fingers finding a place that had her wriggling wildly against him. She cried out passionately as he twisted his fingers within her. There was nothing but the stark and bitter truth between them now, and it made their lovemaking desperate. Cursed by circumstance, they poured raw emotion and desire into every aching touch, knowing that it was the last time they could take pleasure in each other.

�Please, my king,� she said as she writhed against him, �make me yours.�

�As you wish.�

Darius walked them over to the edge of the pool, where the water was shallowest. He released her, letting her slide down the length of his body. Leaning her back against the pool wall, he showered her with fiery kisses, and she responded by hooking her leg around his hip. Circling her waist with his arm, he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

�Remember,� he grunted, �you asked for this.�

He slowly nudged at her slick entrance with his hips, pushing into her at an achingly slow pace. He pulled away completely and repeated the slow dance until she begged for more, her fingers curling into tight fists of frustration. He spun her around then, so that she braced herself against the pool�s edge. Grabbing her hips, he plunged into her forcefully, his thrusts reaching a feverish, angry rhythm. Myrine writhed and twisted beneath him, her cries echoing off the marble walls. His palms slid up her abdomen to cup her bouncing breasts. Grasping them tightly, he pulled her up so that she arched back against him, her hair dangling damply between their bodies. Using his grip as leverage, he pounded against her with ever-increasing speed, her moans only spurring him on.

Myrine felt her world expand and then contract to the point where they joined, a million electric tingles shooting out to every nerve in her body. She reached up to wrap her forearm around his neck, turning her head so she could catch his lips in a kiss. A knot at the base of her belly tightened�and then unfurled into sparking bliss, and she cried out into his mouth.

Darius picked up his pace one last time, helping her climb to her climax. And when she had reached the very pinnacle of pleasure, he buried his face in her neck and let loose inside her.

His arms tightened like bands of steel around her, and he refused to let them move until they had both stopped quivering. He slid free and gently eased them into sitting down in the warm water. Myrine lounged between his loosely crossed legs, her breath still as light and quick as a butterfly�s wings. Darius smoothed his fingers through her long hair and waited out his own diminishing climax.

It seemed hours later when they finally unfolded themselves from the bath and called for warm clothes to dry off with. As Myrine pulled a silk robe over her shoulders, Darius called Jamshid aside to whisper instructions in his ear. She could not know if he still intended to send her away alive or if he had changed his mind�but there was absolutely nothing she could do about it now. So she simply waited, staring dully past them.

When Darius strode back to where she was, he looked down and met her mournful eyes.

�You will sleep in the harem tonight,� he announced. �And tomorrow, before the sun rises, Jamshid will send you off into the desert with a flask of water and a cloak. And you are never to return�on pain of death.�

Myrine swallowed, her throat dry. Darius bent to plant a tender, bittersweet kiss on her forehead. He cupped her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.

�Good night, my concubine,� he whispered, �and farewell.�

Chapter 6

It was pitch-black, but Myrine had long ago grown accustomed to such darkness.

She was perched on a windowsill in King Darius�s bedchamber, her catlike eyes watching him as he slept on, oblivious to her presence. She traced his dark curls, the ridge of his nose, the arch of his cheek and the strong line of his jaw, burning his image into her memory.

She would not wait for morning.

Myrine had slipped from the harem as soon as all had gone quiet, and she fully intended to flee before dawn. But first...first she had to have one last glimpse of the man who had caused her to falter.

�Good night, my king.� She mouthed the words. �And farewell.�

She turned to retreat from her perch, but then paused as a strange sound caught her attention. She straightened suddenly, her skin tingling with cold. Fear pricked at her heart and made her eyes go wide in the silvery moonlight.

There was a low grunt and the sound of a falling body, and then the doors to the chamber slowly swung open.

�I was wondering if I might find you here.�

From the shadows emerged a figure she knew well. She opened her mouth to shout a warning.

�Don�t bother, Myrine,� Scylas chided quietly. �The guards outside are dead, and by the time others arrive, it will be too late.�

He slowly approached the bed and looked down at Darius, who was still sound asleep. Scylas clucked his tongue.

�I should have known better than to send a woman to do a man�s job,� he said regretfully. �You just couldn�t do it, could you?�

Myrine looked on in horror as Scylas brandished an exact copy of one of her needles, lifting it high above his head.

�I�ll just have to finish the job myself!�

�No!� she choked out.

And not a moment too soon, for the sound woke Darius. He moved in time to see the needle stab straight into the mattress where his arm had been not a moment earlier. But before he could sit up, Scylas had him pinned with a knee to the chest, a second needle already at his neck.

�You don�t seem all that surprised,� Scylas commented quizzically as he stared down at Darius�s defiant expression. �Ah,� he nodded knowingly, �I see that our young Myrine has completely fallen for you after all. She obviously told you everything already.�

�Please,� Myrine hissed, �I beg you, King Scylas, do not do this.�

�Foolish whore,� Scylas sneered. �This was going to happen whether or not you did it. It is a small thing to frame a harlot posing as a princess.�

�What?�

Scylas chuckled drily, and Darius growled.

�Did you actually think I would buy your freedom after this was done? Or that if you fled, he would be spared?� he asked with a condescending smirk. �You were never more than an expendable pawn, Myrine.� He glanced down at Darius�s furious expression. �Surely a fellow ruler can understand my meaning?�

�You are a poor excuse for a ruler.� Darius ground out the words. �Not even fit to govern pigs.�

�You wound me,� Scylas responded with false hurt. �But since Myrine here does not understand, I feel compelled to enlighten her.�

He looked back to Myrine, who had gone even paler in the moonlight. He shook his head sadly.

�Poor little Myrine,� he cooed. �Destined to die for her country.�

�I d-don�t understand,� she stuttered. �You promised me my freedom.�

�And have you always trusted the promises of men, Myrine?� Scylas tutted. �If you had done your job properly and killed this brat of a king, I would have let the Persians find you, judge you and execute you as an assassin. After all, everyone knows you always wear these hairpins, and everyone would recognize the wound that caused the king�s death. After all, who would really believe the word of a foreign concubine?�

�But I didn�t kill him,� Myrine whispered.

�Which brings us to this situation,� Scylas said, annoyed, �where I am forced to intervene and do your job for you.�

�You can�t!�

�I can, and I will!� Scylas said angrily. �And then I will kill you and leave your bodies for the guards to find in the morning. Who knows what conclusions they will draw�but what does it matter? This king will be dead.�

Scylas smiled.

�But don�t worry, my dear,� he comforted her. �All I need to do is pierce his skin. The poison will kill him instantly. It will be relatively painless.� He paused. �Which is more than I can say for you.�

Fixing crazed eyes on Darius, Scylas lifted the second hairpin.

For Myrine, it felt as if time had slowed. She saw the poisoned tip of the needle glint. She saw that Darius would not be able to move in time to avoid its deadly point. Her heart hardened against her former king, and she lunged forward just as Scylas brought the needle down. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she knocked his hand away, sending the metal needle skittering across the floor. Scylas dived for the discarded weapon, while Myrine turned to grab at the needle still embedded in the mattress. As her nimble fingers locked onto the slim hairpin, Scylas tackled her from behind and they tumbled into a heap of clawing hands. With a cry, Myrine rolled to her knees atop Scylas and plunged her needle fiercely into Scylas�s chest. Pinning him down, she watched as the former king slumped on the floor, dead with a bewildered expression on his face.

�Myrine!� Darius cried out hoarsely.

She turned in time to see Darius jump from the bed. All of a sudden, a tingling numbness began to slide through her veins. She wanted to get up, but her body refused to obey. Darkness crowded her sight as she fell to the side. Her eyes slid to her forearm.

A long, jagged scratch extended from her wrist to her elbow.

Theotherneedle...

Darius knelt by her side and gathered her limp form into his arms. Myrine�s vision grew hazy, and her limbs felt heavy as lead. She could barely feel the warmth of Darius�s body as he cradled her in his arms. She wanted to frown and reach up to touch his face, but she found that her mind no longer held sway over her body.

Myking, she thought weakly, arethosetearsforme?

His eyes wild, Darius was shouting loudly�for the guards, for help, for anyone to come�but it seemed a distant noise in her ears. She thought she heard the word physician, but everything seemed increasingly garbled. She willed her lips to move one last time. Darius looked down, rocking her softly and pressing his face to hers.

�Don�t you dare die.�

She heard him say the words as a prayer, over and over again. And then Myrine slipped away into darkness.

Chapter 7

Darius sat back, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Unread rolls of parchment were stacked in a neat pile on his desk. He sighed and tossed the missive he had been reading to the floor. It was a trivial issue brought forward by a very powerful noble�and thus annoyingly important to the kingdom. He sighed again. Standing, he walked over to the open window. He closed his eyes and let the arid desert breeze wash over his skin.

It had been months since his assassin-concubine had disappeared completely from the palace. She had saved his life, and he had vowed to save hers. So he had entrusted her care to his finest physicians. Her recovery had been slow but encouraging�until the day she abruptly disappeared. The physicians had no idea where she had gone; one day she had been barely alive in her cot, and the next she was missing without a trace.

He wondered if she had fled. Or if his advisers had quietly done away with her. He found himself hoping that she was safe.

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting his thoughts.

�Enter,� he called.

�My king,� Araxes announced, �here is a new policy I wish for you to approve.�

�Put it with the others,� Darius said with a dismissive wave.

�No, my king,� Araxes said, holding out the parchment. �This is of utmost urgency, as it concerns your safety. You only just survived a clever assassination plot�who knows when there will be another?�

Darius turned to regard Araxes with a sharp look. His eyebrows rose as he noticed the silent, black-clad attendant who was standing behind his adviser. With a shrug, he pulled the thin sheet of parchment from Araxes�s outstretched fingers. His eyes scanned the characters quickly.

�And I assume this is the personal bodyguard you have appointed?� Darius questioned, glancing past Araxes to the silent observer.

�Yes, my king,� Araxes confirmed. �A skilled guard. Perfectly trained in the art of battle and stealth, this one has already proved their worth.�

�Very well,� Darius said with a drawn-out breath, �I will entrust my safety to this...guard.�

�Thank you, my king.�

With that, Araxes turned and exited his chambers, leaving Darius to scrutinize his new attendant. He paced in a circle around the guard, his eyes taking in the thin black cloth that obscured almost every inch of the guard�s skin. He paused, tapping a finger against his chin. There was something very peculiar about this person.

�You are very slight of figure for a warrior,� he commented. �And short.�

�I am� came the response, a low voice muffled by cloth.

�One could almost say that you were very...feminine.�

�I would hope so.�

Darius�s forehead creased in confusion.

�You would hope so?�

He stepped forward suddenly and jerked away the cloth covering the guard�s face. A mass of silvery-blond hair spilled out, and a pair of startlingly clear blue eyes stared back up at him.

�Myrine,� he breathed disbelievingly.

�Yes, my king.�

�How...?�

�Araxes took me from the infirmary,� she explained with a light smile. �He gave me a choice�exile or this new appointment. I chose to stay by your side as your guard.�

Darius scooped her up into a fierce embrace.

�Good,� he said fiercely. �This is good.�

Myrine gently smoothed her hands over his arms, noting how he sagged against her.

�What has made you so tired, my king?� she inquired.

�My advisers never tire of hounding me,� he said wearily, dropping his chin to her shoulder.

�To do what?� she asked lightly, gently stroking his forearm with a fingertip.

�To take a wife,� he mumbled morosely into her skin. �Specifically, Atossa.�

�Oh,� Myrine said flatly. �Her.�

�My thoughts exactly,� Darius groaned.

Myrine turned in his arms, winding her slim arms around his neck.

�Then,� she said, her tone low and sultry, �let me help you forget your troubles, my king. After all, it is my job to protect you from all harm.�

She began to ply him with sweet kisses, her soft lips tracing imaginary patterns over his face. As she slowly drew him into a long, languid kiss, he dropped his hands to her hips. She smoothed her palms down his back, rubbing circles into his aching muscles. He slid his palms up her sides, his fingers spreading over her ribs. When his thumb brushed the underside of her breast, she gasped, and he pulled away to taste the sweet skin at her neck. The electric spark between them grew into a lusty blaze, and Myrine hitched a leg over his hip. He ground into her core with his hips, and Myrine could not contain a low moan of pleasure.

�Why not give up your new position for one of more prestige?� Darius suggested as he moulded his palm to her breast.

�And what would that be, my king?� Myrine moaned into his mouth.

�Royal consort,� he said, nipping at her chin with his teeth. �If I take you as a wife, they will drop the matter of Atossa for a while.�

�And return to the harem?� Myrine began to laugh until Darius pinched the erect bud of her breast. �I�d rather not, my king.�

�You dare to refuse this honour?� Darius teased playfully as he gradually pushed her toward his bed.

�Yes, I refuse,� she replied, brazenly straddling his hips as they tumbled to the mattress. �Besides, as your personal guard, I could spend every night in your chambers.� She slowly began to peel away the fabric covering her creamy flesh, a lascivious gleam in her eye. �And every night I would make sure to...protect you.�

Darius hummed as he slid greedy palms up her sides, reaching up to pull her down for a kiss.

�Yes, I suppose that is acceptable,� he said with a quick upward thrust of his hips. �But I will not yet give up on my idea of making you a royal consort.�

�I�m sure you will try all manner of methods to convince me.� Myrine laughed, meeting his thrusts fervently as she reached to tear away what was left of his clothing. �But I will not be so easily swayed. I think I�ll rather enjoy being your bodyguard instead.�

�Very well,� Darius said with a sigh, �I will let the matter drop for a while.� He began to rub circles over her rib cage with his thumb. �If you will do one thing for me.�

�Yes, my king?�

�That you will now cease speaking and introduce me to some of your finer talents,� he said, the corners of his lips lifting suggestively. �The type that leave us both sweating and exhausted.�

�Come, my king,� she said with a devilish grin. �There are still many of my secret skills that I have not shared with you.�

With the desert sun at its peak, a concubine turned assassin turned personal bodyguard and the king she conquered melted into each other in a fiery blaze of passion. Their laughter and moans of pleasure echoed off the marble walls for hours as the sun set over the empire�promising to return with new days of adventure for them both.

* * * * *

Enjoy more passion through the ages with the sensual Harlequin Historical UNDONE titles on sale now:

LostinPleasure by Marguerite Kaye

ISBN: 978-14603-0741-0

Unveiled for the Persian King

Copyright � 2013 by Linda Skye

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