...Once more the hair on the back of her neck rose in response to movement on the psychic plane and the deeper voice of the male dabbler said, ::I, Running Water, speaking for my mate, Quiet Water, and as leader of our pride, offer help to you, Keeper Kayla and to you, Sultan El Zafir if you ever need it.::

::I accept your offer with thanks.:: Kayla pressed her hand against the paw extended by the male, then the female. She settled the youngling on his mother’s back and watched Quiet Water raise her folded wings to keep the little one in place.

Kayla sensed Tariq had also answered Running Water, when he also touched each dabbler parent.

After the dabblers disappeared into the low-growing plants around the fountain, Tariq extended a hand to Kayla and drew her up from the ground to sit beside him once more. They sat quietly side by side as if they had done so many times. Heat radiated from his powerful body. The scent of herbal soap and clean male teased her senses. She fought the urge to lean against him…no, it was more, much more. She wanted to rub against him like an amorous cat, to feel his long, capable hands and fingers caress her breasts and touch her other hidden tender parts she so precisely explained in her lessons on sexual delight; explained, but had never experienced.

She stood, smoothing her pants and hoping he didn’t see the way her nipples had tightened under her soft top—or notice her flushed face—or detect her faint musk of arousal.

* * *

He had. To Tariq’s acute senses, the signs of Kayla’s sexual arousal called to him more than all the legendary houris who served Great Vashta, god of pleasure.

As it had in the Assembly of Virgins, the faint, heady musk of Kayla’s wet yoni, her quickened breathing, and the thrust of her breasts told him her body wanted him. To break the curse, he needed more. He needed her total commitment—heart, mind, and soul.

The once inviolate Keeper of the Flame now wore the ankh which symbolized she could make love with the man she chose.

He came to his feet in a rush. He wanted to be that man.

Every fiber of his body demanded he take her fast—hard—deep.

No! A man who couldn’t control his urges was not fit to direct the lives of others.

With fingers that trembled, Tariq cradled Kayla’s face between his palms and gazed at her. As usual, her pale blonde hair was worked into a tight braid down her back, but a few pale tendrils had escaped. He wanted to loosen that disciplined rope of sunlight and watch it spread in glorious disarray around her nude form.

He’d been in a state of semi-arousal since she’d walked into the garden. The moment she’d settled so trustfully beside him, he’d grown harder. Now her tantalizing scent, her air of innocence mixed with feminine hunger, drove him beyond control—almost.

Determined to give her a choice, in spite of his body howling for release, he touched her forehead with his and said, “Kayla, I want to kiss you, not just your mouth, but all over. I’m telling you this to give you time to get away if you want.”

Her silvery blue eyes turned darker under the stress of emotion and her lips parted in surprise. Instead of backing away, she leaned into him.

He swept his tongue into her mouth, tasting her complex flavors. She was the pure, hot, sweet wind blowing across the great sands. She tasted of warm moonlit nights in the garden of flowering delights.