“Have we met before?” she whispered.

“Why?”

“Your familiar voice, and you stare as if you know me.”

“I’ve known you since that morning your mother first brought you to the palace to introduce you to Narcissus. I’ve followed your progress in the harem.”

“But your voice …”

“I’ve been singing to you in your dreams.” He went to the divan and lounged in full view of her, then drew her to him.

In the golden light that flowed through the windows, her fingers trembled as he pressed them to his lips, up his neck, and into his curls. The hair on his chest was like swan feathers, his tattooed heart warm. She pressed to taste his mouth.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Refined lovers don’t rush.”

She had passed many evenings of storytelling with the castoffs of the Shah and had heard only of a moody man who was anything but refined. “Is the Shah a tender man?”

“Men of rank have many facets. Only women who dare explore them will secure love.”

“Tell me about his scent of black roses that causes drunkenness.”

Hazel-Boy gazed at her with newfound admiration. She had, in a short period of time, discovered more about the king than many sultanas who spent years in the harem. He decided to share with Rebekah’s daughter the king’s most important secret.

“The king’s fragrance of black roses is a blessing and a curse. At the initial stages of arousal, it causes a pleasant, heady drunkenness, but the more aroused he gets, the more potent his smell becomes, thrusting his partner into an inexplicable delirium of addictive lust impossible to withdraw from.”

Gold Dust clung to Hazel-Boy. “Teach me to protect myself.”

“You can’t decrease its potency but can lessen its effect. When with him, don’t breathe through the nose. Smell is an aphrodisiac. It causes us to fall deeply in love, sometimes deeper than is wise. He will caress you around the face because the scent is strongest on his hands; try to avoid having them too close to your face. And remember the smell influences primarily the emotions. Treasure your sound mind, and it will guard your heart.”

“Have you protected your heart?” she asked, stroking his tattoo.

“It’s my love secret,” he sighed, passing his tongue along the shafts of her fingers. “Now moisten your fingertips in your mouth and glide them over my body and familiarize yourself with the sensitive nerves. Remember to breathe through the mouth.”

She felt Hazel-Boy’s hard muscles, smooth chest, and the beat of his hearts. A sigh, a moan, a whisper, a restraining touch told her to linger or to advance. Her hand slid below his waist and down his stomach. She sprang back.

His soothing kisses nibbled every part of her body, until she calmed. Then he held her hand and guided it between his legs.

She felt hard scars under his stirred organ.