The Prince of Zammar - The Complete Serial (Books 1-6) (Zammar, Book 1)

By Samantha Nolan

Under Zammar’s sun, passion and secrets run deep.

Prince Jalen ‘Anaq Al-Jameyri, heir to the kingdom of Zammar, was once an acclaimed general and a war hero, but he now hides a dark secret behind a mask.

Sadie used to work on the outskirts of Zammar’s capital, offering her services curing illnesses and injuries. But her magical abilities attract the attention of the authorities, and she is arrested and found guilty of a crime she did not commit.

On the day of Sadie’s execution, Prince Jalen stays the executioner’s hand and offers her a bargain: a year in his service in exchange for her life and freedom. With nothing left to lose, Sadie accepts the deal and follows him back to the palace.

Though everything separates them, Sadie feels drawn to the mysterious prince, and she is determined to become more than a simple distraction to him. With Jalen, she discovers passion unlike anything she could have imagined, but his secret soon threatens to destroy them both.

Warning: The book contains hot consensual sex between two people slowly falling in love, blindfold, bondage, spanking, anal, and more than anything, sizzling passion.

CONTAINS :

Into the Fire (The Prince of Zammar 1)
Slow Burn (The Prince of Zammar 2)
Smoldering (The Prince of Zammar 3)
Rising Heat (The Prince of Zammar 4)
Up in Flames (The Prince of Zammar 5)
From the Ashes (The Prince of Zammar 6)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Artistic License Publishing
• Release date: Oct 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301229901

Book preview

The Prince of Zammar

part one - six

The Complete Serial

By Samantha Nolan

(All characters depicted herein are consenting adults.)

Published by Nault-Findley, LLC

Copyright 2013 Samantha Nolan

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America and Canada. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART ONE: INTO THE FIRE

PART TWO: SLOW BURN

PART THREE: SMOLDERING

PART FOUR: RISING HEAT

PART FIVE: UP IN FLAMES

PART SIX: FROM THE ASHES

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CONTACT US

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

INTO THE FIRE:

ONE

The rough iron of the shackles bit into Sadie’s wrists as she walked to the center of the square. The merciless noon sun beat down on her head and shoulders, and she could feel sweat making its way between her shoulderblades. Her clothes were torn and ratty from her stay in the city’s prison, and her hair felt like a bird’s nest on top of her head. She gulped and licked dry, cracked lips, trying to not acknowledge the structure looming in front of her. Her voice had long ago grown hoarse and scratchy from too much crying, and her face itched from those now dried tears.

Another piece of rotten fruit, thrown at her from the crowd, struck the side of her face. It splattered her hair and neck with its sticky insides, and she gritted her teeth. It would be over soon. All around her, the crowd screamed for her death. Amongst the accusations she could make out, the most frequent ones were of witch and djinn. It made no sense to her. They used to gladly ask for her assistance to heal their injuries with her skills. What was so different about her magic now?

A hand pushed her in the back and she stumbled on the first step of the scaffold leading to the executioner’s block.

Up, witch, the official overseeing her death spat.

On legs that trembled in fear and exertion, she made her way up the steps, grumbling, No need to push. You’ll have my head soon enough.

Of course, at this point it was futile to resist, and no amount of attitude would buy Sadie any more time. Ancestor spirits protect my soul.

The official pushed down on her shoulder, forcing her to kneel in the middle of the raised platform. A burly guard took his place behind her, and knocked her forward across the block. He slid her into position and kept her bowing down with one hand pressed in the middle of her back. When the executioner stepped onto the scaffolding, the crowd went wild with excitement. Really? Was the prospect of her death that enticing? Sadie wondered how long they would keep her pinned before the ax sealed her fate.

She wondered why the guard did not fasten her shackles to the platform. The iron ring bolted next to her bound hands would provide an easy way to keep her restrained, thus freeing the guard standing behind her from his duty of holding her down. The thought only distracted her for a second, and try as she might, Sadie could not suppress the sick anticipation. With each passing moment her heart rate increased and she started hyperventilating. At this rate, she would pass out before they did the deed.

***

Jalen had business to attend to back at the palace, and his trip to the town square for the execution was folly. But when he’d overheard one of his soldiers telling a comrade about a young woman’s capture and her impending execution, he had decided to investigate it himself.

He didn’t hold any hope of the rumors being true. They had to be pure fantasy. A magical healer still alive in the city? Impossible. His men had already looked everywhere for one to no avail. He discounted the soldier’s claims. All the magical healers were dead.

Yet he had gone to see for himself the red-headed prisoner from his father’s jail.

Now that he stood in sight of the scaffold and could catch a glimpse of her, he decided his idea had been the right one after all. The woman was stunning despite the grime caking her skin, hair, and garments. Her red hair glinted in the bright sunlight, curling around her head like a crown of glorious fire. He wonder how it would feel to run his hands through it.

He watched as she approached the scaffold with her head held high, her determination clear in spite of the taunts from the crowd. She resisted her fate with a quiet dignity that appealed to him. She shed no tears, proffered no useless wailing, no pleading for her case. Defiance burned in her stance, in each of her graceful moves as she complied with the officials presiding over her execution.

It wasn’t until the ax hovered in the air that Jalen knew he would intervene. On the upswing of the executioner’s blade, he approached the platform, taking everyone there by surprise.

Stop! he ordered. He exerted only enough mental pressure to subdue the executioner. He didn’t want the man to kill his prize.

Prize?

Yes, a prize—a distraction from the madness that now stole his nights. He strode forward through the crowd, stilling them as he passed. He knew he would regret his use of power later in the day, but would deal with that when it came.

***

Sadie heard a deep voice boom across the square, bringing everyone to a standstill. The hand pressing Sadie down to the execution block eased, and she managed to raise her head.

His highly polished black boots were the first thing her eyes focused on. Slowly, as the pressure on her back eased further, her gaze traveled up sandy-colored, fine linen pants and a deep burgundy silk tunic decorated with gold embroideries and trimmed with the crests of a general. Her inspection stopped at the man’s face, and she gaped at the sight.

If the richness of his clothes hadn’t already betrayed his identity, the mask of midnight silk that covered half his face would have. The man who had halted the executioner was none other than Prince Jalen ‘Anaq Al-Jameyri, heir to the throne of Zammar.

The stories hailed him as a feared warrior and acclaimed general, although he was young for such accolades. It was said, that in the last war, he’d received a deep and festering wound in battle, and this was the reason behind his mask. It was also said that he was too proud and vain to show the scars to the world. It didn’t make sense to her. Soldiers should be proud of their battle scars. Shouldn’t they?

Sadie’s gaze finally met his, and eyes of onyx bore into hers through the eyeholes of the mask. They seemed to see right into her soul, leaving none of her secrets undiscovered. Most startling to Sadie, his gaze held no contempt for her, only what seemed to be slight interest. His attitude ran contrary to that of the overly excited crowd, who had been throwing discarded food and cheering for her death.

Come to see me die, my prince? Sadie said, her throat hurting from the effort of saying even a few words. It was too hard to keep her bitterness from her tone, and she didn’t even try. It served nothing to be polite to the prince; it’s not like he would help her. Even her address was the wrong one and she knew it. No commoner in their right mind would dare call him anything but his highness.

She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t respond.

Sadie looked around her, curious why no one else said anything about her transgression either. Since the prince’s arrival, the square had been utterly silent. No one talked. Nothing moved or rustled. Not a single person looked their way. Everyone’s eyes were downcast and averted, and most in the crowd were bowing their heads. When she chanced a glance at the official and executioner behind her, she saw the same evasion, deference, and fear. Sadie wondered if his own soldiers did the same thing in his presence. That certainly would add a level of difficulty to their military maneuvers. The sheer absurdity of the thought made her want to laugh, and she bit her lower lip to keep quiet.

She went back to surveying the square. The crowd’s stillness was making her ill at ease. They didn’t even appear to be breathing, although she knew it was impossible. It felt unnatural. Did the prince have some magical abilities? Sadie didn’t remember any rumors or stories indicating he did, but maybe it was only his presence that caused the hush. Still, she had never seen the square so quiet, even at night.

Sadie couldn’t stand the preternatural stillness any longer. You could have them let me go, she said, not expecting anything to come of it, but needing to try anyway.

Hmm, he replied, a wry smile twitching the corners of his sensuous mouth. For an instant, Sadie was spellbound by them. The man had lips made for sin.

His smile disappeared as fast as it had appeared. Once more grim and imposing, he asked, Why are you here?

Sadie straightened up and looked at him in defiance. She thought about lying, but rejected it. It wouldn’t help her now. They say I killed a man.

Did you? He sounded only mildly curious.

She had no answer for him. The man they had accused her of killing had obviously died or she wouldn’t be here, but he had been alive and hot in pursuit as she made her escape. He’d been bent on catching her and giving her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget in spite of her attempt to protect herself.

She was sure she saw a flicker of something—be it interest or suspicion—flash in Prince Jalen’s eyes, causing her to finally avert her gaze. As a mere commoner, looking the prince in the eyes was an offense in itself, but staring him down could land her in a dank gaol, if not worse. But then, as she was about to die and she’d just come from the kingdom’s gaol, she could afford the luxury of not caring about protocol.

Sadie even toyed with the idea of using his name. She smiled at the thought of his shocked response, but her expression cooled quickly when her mind processed the brazen thought. He seemed to be letting her get away with breaking some rules. Sadie decided to not press the issue with another.

Defiant, she raised her head again and forced herself to watch him despite a lifetime of being told to respect and fear the royal family.

Well? Prince Jalen asked again, his tone demanding an answer.

Sadie started, and then blinked. She had been so taken by her own thoughts, she had completely forgotten his original question.

I’m sorry, what did you ask me? She was certain her question would anger him, especially without the honorific, but she didn’t care. What more could he do to her? Kill her a second time? She stifled a snort.

He might be of royal descent, but Prince Jalen was just a man. And she was a condemned healer. Her death was imminent and he held no power over her. This epiphany freed her of any remaining fear or awe she felt toward him.

I asked you, he repeated in a clipped voice, if you killed the man as they claim.

He was still alive when I fled. If I killed him, then it was purely to save myself. Although, I don’t know how I could have done it.

If Prince Jalen seemed surprised by her incertitude, he didn’t show it. Instead, in an almost thoughtful way, he asked, And yet, he is dead now, is he not?

That’s what they tell me.

This conversation was surreal. What did he want with her? She continued to stare at what little she could see of his face. His black hair—cut short in a military style and yet threatening to curl around his forehead and temples—somehow fit the sharp planes of his face. It gave him an expression that was too severe to be considered beautiful, but Sadie decided she preferred it that way. Then, she wondered why she even contemplated his physical appearance in a time like this. Her stay in the city gaol must have scrambled her mind.

From behind the mask, his dark eyes burned into hers, and she blushed, wondering if he knew what she’d been thinking about. Her fingers itched to move the mask away to see the rest of his face. Did his supposed scars really detract from his appearance, or did they add to his allure?

Sadie pushed herself back to her feet. Her attempt did not produce a reaction, so she could only conclude the prince exerted some power of his own over her captors. There was no way the officers would have let her take such liberties if they were fully cognisant.

Once they stood face to face, a calculating gleam entered the prince’s eyes. You would want your life then?

Her heart surged with hope. Would he... really?

You can grant it to me, she said quickly, almost stumbling on the words. They’ll listen to you. They wouldn’t listen to me when I said I was innocent!

Hmm... perhaps. What would you be willing to give up in exchange? he asked her.

Her mind screamed at her at his question. This had to be a trap! That it was nothing but a game to him. I don’t understand, my prince.

Clearly you do not wish to die—

Who would? she interrupted him hotly. Her hands shook and she hid them in her dirty smock so he wouldn’t see them.

What would you be willing to do to continue living?

Sadie squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was only toying with her, or if there could be something to his question. Many things, my prince, she finally answered, "but not just anything. I value my life and my practice—what would be left of it at any rate—and your question opens too many opportunities to go down unpalatable roads. She took a deep breath. I won’t take another’s life, and I won’t become a thief. If that’s your plan, I’d prefer to die now. My soul would wither, and I would rather be executed—here, now—than attempt to barter my honor for a few more days of stale bread."

Such lofty words for someone accused of murder. He chuckled. And did I hear the crowd chanting ‘kill the witch’?

She pitched her chin forward and flipped a dirty strand of hair away from her face. She stared him straight in the eyes. That may be, but they are what they are, she replied. She still had her pride, even if she’d lost everything else.

Fiery, Prince Jalen murmured, more to himself, it seemed, than to her. Fortunately for your honor, I don’t plan to make you an assassin or a thief. I’ve better men for this.

Good, she grumbled, wondering what he had in mind for her.

A year, he suddenly said, surprising her.

A year, my prince?

A year of your life at my command.

Sadie cringed, her heart thudding in her chest. A slave?

Being his slave guaranteed she’d be used for sex. It didn’t sound appealing, but the logical part of her mind argued it was better than death. Could she—for all intents and purposes—prostitute herself for her life?

He smirked. A... welcome distraction.

And when the year is at an end?

When the season of sand passes and the season of rain comes again, you will be released. After that, you are free to do as you wish.

Did she dare trust him? She wanted to trust that he would keep his word.

No, I can’t really be thinking about this, can I? That way led to madness. But she was considering it. What other choice did she have? If she refused, the only thing left to her would be the executioner’s sword. A year was a long time. Would she survive whole or end up battered and broken, a former shell of herself? She tried to recall any rumors of cruelty, and recalled none. But did anyone really know? He could be any or all of those things and his soldiers wouldn’t breath a word of it. It was a gamble, but what did she have to lose at that point?

A... year, she faltered.

Yes.

I accept. Her words were barely audible, even to her own ears.

Good. Let’s get you cleaned up then. Your smell would curdle milk.

The prince snapped his fingers, summoning an attendant she hadn’t noticed until then. Take her to see Vara. She will know what to do for— the prince paused and gave her a look.

Sadie saw no harm in volunteering her name. Sadie. After all, he now owned her for a full year.

What have I done?

—Sadie, he concluded.

It will be done, the man replied. He sniffed in disdain and bid Sadie to follow him.

TWO

"Vara, his highness has requested that his recent acquisition— the attendant waved his hand in Sadie’s direction dismissively —be given the customary treatment."

The older woman, Vara, sniffed and made a disgusted face. Where has his highness found that one? A sewer?

Sadie gritted her teeth. She knew she didn’t smell good—and she looked even worse—but a dank and rat-infested cell was no palace. She opened her mouth to speak but Vara gave her a quelling look that stopped her dead in her tracks.

Quiet. Around here, the girls are seen, not heard.

Yes, ma’am, Sadie mumbled, flushing in anger and shame. She would have come up with a stronger repartee, but she was exhausted and acquiescing seemed like the best decision at the moment.

Hmph. Follow me, girl. Vara grimaced when Sadie stepped closer. No, no, not so close.

Sadie glanced at her, wary but resigned, and put a little more distance between them.

We’ll have to do something with that rat’s nest on your head, Vara continued.

Sadie’s now free hands patted her locks. Her hair was a fiery red—and curly, very curly—thanks to some ancestors from the north. She liked her hair though, even if it was for the moment badly tangled, knotted, and dirty.

Vara turned to the attendant. Did his highness give any instruction?

No.

She huffed and beckoned Sadie to follow. They walked down several mostly empty servants’ hallways. Each twist and turn blended into the next, and soon Sadie became lost. How would she ever find her way around this giant place?

Where are we going?

The baths. Where else? Vara replied. "Nadia will help you tame that hair of yours. Vara’s lips curled in distaste. Now stop talking."

Sadie gritted her teeth but nodded.

After a few more twists and turns, Vara led her into a medium-sized room with two large pools of water set on each side of it. The room looked like a smaller version of the public baths down in the city.

Bathe in that one, Vara ordered her, pointing in the direction of the smallest of the two pools. Then she indicated the larger one. Be absolutely sure you’re clean and free of— she curled her lips and waved her hand —everything before you soak in this one.

Before Sadie responded, Vara turned and left the room. Sadie glanced around and confirmed she was alone before stripping out of the dirty rags that her clothes had turned into since her imprisonment. Her fingers attacked the ties and buttons holding the garments together, and she finally managed to peel it from her body. She hoped to never see it again, but she didn’t know what kind of clothes, if any, she would allowed to wear while in the palace. What if he made her walk around naked? The thought sent her to shaking again and she had to sit down on the rough stone that served as tile in the room. Through sheer force of will, she made herself to calm down. She was alive; it was all that mattered. And in a year she would be free.

She had to. Anything less was too horrible to contemplate.

Sadie held onto that thought as she slipped into the pool of clear water. It was warm, surprisingly so, as she wouldn’t have expected the servant baths to be heated. Afraid to be interrupted at any moment, she washed the grime off her skin as quickly as possible using the soap she found at the edge of the bath. She was eager to be free of the days of filth and dust ground into her skin. Once she was reasonably pleased with the result—her skin glowed red from the vigorous scrubbing—she dipped her head and tried to clean her hair.

As expected, her bathing was soon interrupted. The sound of the door creaking open made Sadie jump, and she sank lower in the water in an attempt to cover her nudity. Only then did she turn towards the newcomer. A young girl of maybe sixteen acknowledged her without a word and walked inside the room.

Sadie wondered if this was Nadia, here to help her with her hair. If she was, Sadie anticipated a problem. The girl held a pair of scissors in her right hand, and stared at Sadie’s hair with a mix of fascination and horror.

Are you Nadia? Sadie asked when the girl made no attempt to introduce herself.

Nadia nodded, still silent. It had been no jest. Girls around here really didn’t make themselves heard.

And, uh... what do you think you’re doing with those scissors?

Mistress Vara told me to make sure your hair was cut short and free of lice, Nadia finally answered, barely above a whisper.

I just need a brush and fine-toothed comb for that! Sadie protested.

Mistress Vara said no servant of hers will show such djinn hair around his highness.

Nadia made her way toward Sadie in a decisive manner. Despite being several years younger than Sadie herself, Nadia was tall and muscled from seasons of manual labor. In her current state, Sadie assumed she wouldn’t be able to fight her off if it came to a physical altercation. Her magic could protect her. But then, if she incapacitated a servant for something as innocent as a haircut, what would the prince and his people do to her?

Still, she retreated to the other side of the washing pool, raising both hands in a useless attempt to defend herself.

Please, Nadia said more forcefully. I can’t let you leave the bathhouse looking this way.

Sadie shook her head. As childish and idiotic as it might be, she didn’t want Nadia touching her hair. She’d lost enough already.

Nadia’s tone was bordering on angry when she repeated, Mistress Vara gave me the order—

Just as Sadie was trying to figure out how to convince Nadia to leave her alone, the door to the room slammed open. Nadia started, then quickly dropped into a deep curtsy as Prince Jalen strode into the room.

Sadie’s eyes widened in alarm at his fast-approaching figure. She covered herself with her hands and dipped down into the water while Nadia backed away to the farthest corner of the room. Prince Jalen walked to the edge of the washing bath and looked straight down at her.

Out, he commanded her.

Cheeks burning, Sadie sank farther into the water, her eyes darting right and left in search of a towel of some sort. She saw nothing within reach to cover herself. She looked to Nadia, but the servant’s eyes were downcast and she was visibly shaking. She would be no help.

Reluctantly, Sadie looked back to the prince where he stood at the edge of the bath. Her eyes traveled up the same sand-colored linen pants he had been wearing in the square. She lingered too long around the groin, before she realized what she was doing and jerked her eyes up to his face. Behind the silk mask, his eyes appeared to be deep pools of darkness. They revealed nothing of his thoughts. Sadie suppressed the shiver that threatened to crawl up her back.

Out of ideas, she finally nodded, swallowing hard to control her fear and embarrassment. The longer she waited, the colder his gaze became. She made her way toward the edge of the pool, where the stairs in and out were located. She stayed tucked into the water for as long