Horns for the Harem Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Lynn Red
she chuckled to herself, “but I know what it is to be young. And I know you well enough to know you’re clever, even if you are given to the whimsies that go with it. Sometimes,” she exhaled a long-held breath, “sometimes I long for those days. But then I remember how much they hurt when things didn’t go the way I hoped.”
*
T he tunnels were longer, darker, and more twisted than Helena remembered. She’d only been into them a handful of times, and always with someone vastly more experienced at navigating the dead ends and double-backs, but the note Crane left on her desk had a serviceable, if vague, map drawn on it.
“Four doors past the left, one to the right,” she said, stopping in the hallway underneath a lantern. “Six to the... oh damn it all! I’ll never find this place. I’m going to die in this ridiculous tunnel and I should have just waited for the king. This is all so stupid !”
Helena turned around and flattened herself against the nearest wall. The coolness of worn stone seeped through the flimsy silks she wore. The chill prickled her skin, pebbling her nipples pleasantly against the thin film covering them. She tried once again to calm herself, to quiet her nerves, but it was just no good.
Another glance at the note told her nothing more than the first had revealed. She had managed, somehow, to become so hopelessly twisted up that she’d lost even the way back to the harem. She let out another sigh.
“How do I get myself into these stupid messes?” she asked herself, and the empty hallway. “How can I not read a damn map?!”
“Because,” a voice – a smooth, calm, and unbearably rugged voice – came to her ears. “I drew gibberish, knowing it would lead you here to me. I’ve dreamed of your skin, I’ve been enraptured by your eyes, I’ve—”
Before he could finish, Helena delivered a ripping slap right to the prince’s cheek. “You terrified me!” she said in a hissed whisper. “I could have been lost! I could have died in here!”
After his shock, and the sting of her practiced blow, wore off, he couldn’t help but laugh. Gently, of course. “I knew where you’d be. How could you die in here?”
He took her hand to prevent another painful smack. “And watch that,” he said. “Your rings hurt more than you probably think.”
“I turned it backward on purpose,” Helena said.
“Even behind the veil, your eyes blaze,” Arad said, his voice a mixture of leather, chocolate and honey dripping from a freshly cracked comb. “My man gave you my message, but only I can give you what I truly want you to have.”
She went to hit him again, for freshness, but then remembered he had a fast grip on her wrist. So instead, she hit him with the other one. Or at least, she tried – the prince was as agile as he was beautiful, and intercepted that one too. “You’re a spry one,” he said with a grin that shone white in the lantern light. “The way you fight me, but still I can tell you’re smiling under that veil.”
“How?” Helena whispered, realizing that her body had drifted very close to his. She consciously shuffled backwards, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“You say no, but at the same time you’re so close to me I can smell your perfume. I can smell the oils you put in your hair. I can smell... you .” He drew a nose full of air to demonstrate. “I’m intoxicated, I’m beyond words for you, Helena.”
The way he spoke her name it sounded like poetry dripping from a skilled bard’s tongue. Her knees were weak, and almost immediately, her hips were right back to where they were before. The buckle of Arad’s tight-fitting leather pants was cool on Helena’s belly. The prince stood a good head and a half taller than she. Beneath the cool smoothness of the buckle she felt something decidedly more... enticing.
She pulled away again, but it was only a gesture. She didn’t want to escape his grasp any more than he was going to let her. His lips were so
*
T he tunnels were longer, darker, and more twisted than Helena remembered. She’d only been into them a handful of times, and always with someone vastly more experienced at navigating the dead ends and double-backs, but the note Crane left on her desk had a serviceable, if vague, map drawn on it.
“Four doors past the left, one to the right,” she said, stopping in the hallway underneath a lantern. “Six to the... oh damn it all! I’ll never find this place. I’m going to die in this ridiculous tunnel and I should have just waited for the king. This is all so stupid !”
Helena turned around and flattened herself against the nearest wall. The coolness of worn stone seeped through the flimsy silks she wore. The chill prickled her skin, pebbling her nipples pleasantly against the thin film covering them. She tried once again to calm herself, to quiet her nerves, but it was just no good.
Another glance at the note told her nothing more than the first had revealed. She had managed, somehow, to become so hopelessly twisted up that she’d lost even the way back to the harem. She let out another sigh.
“How do I get myself into these stupid messes?” she asked herself, and the empty hallway. “How can I not read a damn map?!”
“Because,” a voice – a smooth, calm, and unbearably rugged voice – came to her ears. “I drew gibberish, knowing it would lead you here to me. I’ve dreamed of your skin, I’ve been enraptured by your eyes, I’ve—”
Before he could finish, Helena delivered a ripping slap right to the prince’s cheek. “You terrified me!” she said in a hissed whisper. “I could have been lost! I could have died in here!”
After his shock, and the sting of her practiced blow, wore off, he couldn’t help but laugh. Gently, of course. “I knew where you’d be. How could you die in here?”
He took her hand to prevent another painful smack. “And watch that,” he said. “Your rings hurt more than you probably think.”
“I turned it backward on purpose,” Helena said.
“Even behind the veil, your eyes blaze,” Arad said, his voice a mixture of leather, chocolate and honey dripping from a freshly cracked comb. “My man gave you my message, but only I can give you what I truly want you to have.”
She went to hit him again, for freshness, but then remembered he had a fast grip on her wrist. So instead, she hit him with the other one. Or at least, she tried – the prince was as agile as he was beautiful, and intercepted that one too. “You’re a spry one,” he said with a grin that shone white in the lantern light. “The way you fight me, but still I can tell you’re smiling under that veil.”
“How?” Helena whispered, realizing that her body had drifted very close to his. She consciously shuffled backwards, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“You say no, but at the same time you’re so close to me I can smell your perfume. I can smell the oils you put in your hair. I can smell... you .” He drew a nose full of air to demonstrate. “I’m intoxicated, I’m beyond words for you, Helena.”
The way he spoke her name it sounded like poetry dripping from a skilled bard’s tongue. Her knees were weak, and almost immediately, her hips were right back to where they were before. The buckle of Arad’s tight-fitting leather pants was cool on Helena’s belly. The prince stood a good head and a half taller than she. Beneath the cool smoothness of the buckle she felt something decidedly more... enticing.
She pulled away again, but it was only a gesture. She didn’t want to escape his grasp any more than he was going to let her. His lips were so