The Sword and the Sheath

Fatima's heart raced with anticipation. Tarik hunted in a carved wood chest, withdrew four red silk cords. Now she knew exactly what the bed was used for. She eyed him warily.

"No." She scrambled to the bed's center.

"You're so determined to be a man, you fear what it's like to fully become a woman. You'll do anything to resist it because it means losing control. And you will not lose control," he said sofly, advancing.

The cords swished back and forth in his hands. Dry mouthed, Fatima stared.

"You don't need to demonstrate the rope test." She offered a weak smile. "I'm certain you're an expert at tying knots."

"You want this," he asserted, his bold gaze frankly studying her. "Deep down, you crave what I can give you. But you're afraid of letting go. If I give you pleasure, will you run away from me as you've been doing today? Be honest, Tima. You weren't honest when I took your virginity. If you say no, I'll stop. Right now." His deep voice dropped. "Or do you want to lose control?"

Honesty, she thought, the internal throbbing building between her legs. He deserved it. A trembling breath hissed from her mouth. "I want to," she whispered.

"Trust me," his silky voice murmured. "I'll never hurt you, Tima. I'll only bring your deepest, darkest desires to light."

But that is what I fear most, she thought desperately.

"Tarik," she whispered, filled with apprehension.

"I'm going to take good care of you, Tima," he said again. "Very good care of my precious caracal."

Alarm raced through her as his hands slipped up her naked thighs, stroking, creating a flare of heat. He was going to do it to her again. Her insides clenched in an agony of anticipation, a memory of past pain mingled with new pleasure.

"You know so much about being a warrior," he murmured, stroking her hair. "Let me teach you about being female. You're afraid to surrender, Tima. Afraid of letting yourself feel. Because you're so worried about being as tough as a man, you're afraid to embrace the woman inside. You think it's the same as your Sight when you lose control. It's not. Trust me." He slid one rope around her ankle, knotted it efficiently and tied it to the bedpost.