The Prince's Intimate Abduction (The Samara Royal Family Series Book 2)
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Authors: Elizabeth Lennox
The Prince’s Intimate Abduction
By Elizabeth Lennox
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Copyright 2016
ISBN13: 9781944078089
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited unless you have the direct consent of the author.
If you download this material in any format, either electronic or other, on a non-sanctioned site, please be warned that you and the website are in violation of copyright infringement. Financial and punitive damages may be pursued in whichever legal venue is appropriate.
Table of Contents
In this story, Raven might be too young to be a doctor. I acknowledge this, but I struggled with her age, her education and her sexual experience. So hopefully, this aspect of the story won’t be a stopping point for you while reading. Enjoy!
Turk stood up and moved to the darkened window. The night had descended over the capital city hours ago and he still wasn’t able to sleep. There was something…he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something didn’t feel normal. A feeling, a heaviness maybe. Even the crisp, cold air tonight felt strange.
A sense of…anticipation.
It wasn’t that something was wrong. But something wasn’t quite right either. He could feel it.
What could possibly be happening? He had no idea.
Peace had been reigning over the country for years. There were minor skirmishes from rebels who wanted to overthrow his brother’s government, but Turk wasn’t about to allow that. His family had been ruling this country for centuries. As Minister of Defense for Kilar, he wasn’t going to let that change. Not on his watch.
Something was going on though. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was definitely…disturbing.
Maybe it was just that everything had been so peaceful for so long. Perhaps he was simply itching for a real battle, a fight that would allow him to work off some of this restless energy that kept stirring inside of him. He felt hyper aware tonight, of the darkness, of the silence broken only by a few chirps, and even by the brightness of the stars tonight. Everything was still, silent and…strangely unmoving.
Yes, that must be it. He hadn’t had a good fight, a tough battle in months. Everything had been too quiet. The rebels had been silent for too long which was unusual for them. They normally stirred up trouble in one way or another, but there was no chatter from his teams about any activity.
His older brother would say that’s a good thing. Hell, so would his younger brother. Good for the economy and good for business.
Turk agreed with them, but he still wouldn’t mind a good fight.
Stretching his muscles, he thought about going to the gym and pounding the weight bag around for a while. That might get some of this tension out of his system.
But the silence of the night air called to him, made him want to be a part of it, to be in it more thoroughly.
He imagined himself taking off and hitting the desert streets for a long drive…yes, that sounded like exactly what he needed. He wouldn’t go far. But it would be nice to get out into the desert and have a bit of freedom. He’d been cooped up in the palace for too long, needing some action.
Not that he’d get it at two o’clock in the morning, he told himself as he pulled on a pair of black cargo pants, sliding knives and a few other weapons into the hidden pockets. He never felt fully dressed unless he had weapons on his person. Perhaps that was strange, but he didn’t question it. Too often, he’d needed those weapons so he never hesitated to put them on.
After pulling on a black tee-shirt and black boots, he stepped out of his private quarters. Immediately, his bodyguards surrounded him. “I’m going for a drive,” he told them. “Alone,” he added when one of them started to speak into his radio, alerting the other guards of his plans.
The captain of his guard opened his mouth to argue but Turk lifted his hand, stopping the argument before it could be uttered. “I will be fine,” he told the man. “Don’t be an old lady. It’s the dead of the night.” His captain really was a worrier, he thought.
There was rarely a moment when Turk wasn’t alone except when he was in his private apartment or with his brothers. He’d accepted this as part of his life. Growing up, he’d learned to accept the good and bad of being a prince, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He vacillated between calm acceptance and burning irritation about the burdens of being a royal.
Tonight though, he was going to venture out on his own into the night and feel the breeze on his face as he sped along the darkened streets of the desert. He was going to feel a small bit of freedom, clear his mind and try to figure out what was really bothering him.
Minutes later, Turk was in the garage, ready to speed out on a motorcycle, and feel the cool, night air on his face. The anticipation to feel free, to ride out into the night without any cumbersome guards trailing after him was pushing him to get out of the palace garage faster. He understood the necessity for the bodyguards. Hell, he’d imposed a massive guard on his older brother, the Sheik of Kilar as well as his nephew, Badri, the future sheik.
But Ramzi and his son were more important, he told himself. Ramzi was the face of the country, the hopes of all of the citizens of Kilar. If anything happened to Turk’s older brother, the people of Kilar would be worried. And Badri? Well, he was just an adorable little guy who loved to laugh and chase after Zeus, the German Shephard that Ramzi had given his wife, Mia, after Badri’s birth. Those two were inseparable and Turk appreciated the extra security the canine provided Badri. Hell, the dog even slept with Badri at night, not allowing anyone to come close except family members.
Keeping his family and Kilar safe was Turk’s highest priority. Since Badri was in line to the throne, the little man had to be kept happy and healthy.
Not to mention, if anything happened to his older brother, Turk would have to take over as sheik and that was something he definitely didn’t want to happen! He guarded his older brother like a protective mother lion just so that he wouldn’t have to take his older brother’s place.
Turk was determined to remain third in line to the throne. Rais, his younger brother, felt exactly the same way, not wanting anything to happen to either of his older brothers or nephew. As the financial manager for both the country and the Samara family fortunes, the man was perfectly matched to his role. Rais was a genius when it came to financial matters. And if Rais was coming dangerously close to being able to beat Turk in the boxing ring, well, so be it. It just motivated Turk to train harder. There was no way Turk was going to let his desk-jockey, younger brother beat him.
Looking around the packed palace garage, he chose one of the faster motorcycles, dismissing the armored limousines or SUVs and not even glancing at the fabulously expensive cars like the Ferrari or Lamborghinis on the side wall. The underground garage was a car buff’s fantasy world. There were several million dollars’ worth of cars parked down there, most of them never used because of the security risk.
But they were collectibles and, when possible, exhilarating to drive. It took several minutes for all of the bomb-proof doors to be opened, but when the last one was behind him, Turk blasted off, zooming through the cool, night air, whipping out of the palace grounds and into the desert beyond.
The fresh air was doing the trick of clearing his mind and refreshing his mood. The heavy, sour feeling was gone and, in its place, all he felt was a strong sense of freedom.
He was just about to turn around, to head back to the palace, when he spotted something. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was…just a light. But it was a flash of light in a place that shouldn’t have anyone or anything. There were just mountains in that direction. That strange sensation he’d experienced hours earlier came rushing back, the prickling sensation stronger.
He turned off the motorcycle engine and listened, his eyes focused on the spot where he’d seen the light. Nothing. Not a sound. There were only the stars twinkling in the ink-black sky.
He was starting to think that he’d just imagined the flash of light when he saw it again. Only a glimpse. But it was definitely there.
Lifting his phone out of his pocket, he called it in, giving his direction and the approximate location of the light.
He was just sliding his phone back into his pocket when the sound of gunshot reached his ear. The sound came from out of nowhere. He felt a stab of pain in his side, but didn’t think anything of it. Ducking down low, using his motorcycle for cover, he called in the shot.
He was just about to pull his own weapon out of his holster when he felt the pain sear through his brain. And then…nothing. Darkness overwhelmed him and he fell to the desert ground.
Raven heard the commotion out in her lobby area and grabbed the gun she kept hidden under her pillow. Her clinic on the edge of a village was quiet, normally just dealing with the regular childhood illnesses along with the accidents from farming equipment and cars. Unfortunately, because she was in such a remote area, she also had to deal with the annoying rebels that sometimes came in to harass the villagers. Only a fool would be without protection out here in the desert. But her clinic was peaceful and she wouldn’t actually shoot anyone. She used it only for protection and self-defense.
“Doc!” someone shouted.
More banging and stumbling.
“He’s been shot, Doc. We need your help!”
Raven stuffed the gun back under her pillow and jumped out of bed. She was already dressed, knowing from experience not to sleep in anything other than a full set of clothes. In this part of the world, emergencies often happened at night, she’d quickly learned. It was better to be prepared. Her first week here in the village she’d been caught off-guard wearing pajamas. That had been a one-time learning experience.
She only had to stuff her feet into the beaten-up sneakers before she was racing out of the small room she’d allocated as her bedroom. Pulling on the heavy lock, she opened the clinic’s door only to quickly step back when an enormous man was hauled into her clinic. Six filthy men appeared, one under the each of the larger man’s arms and several more trying to carry the wounded man’s legs and feet.
“What happened?” she demanded even as she directed the men to bring the giant into one of the examining rooms. But the men hauling the dark-haired giant were mumbling gibberish, so she pushed their words out of her consciousness. She heard something about them being in trouble for wounding this particular man, that they should dump him here and get out of the area. Another man was arguing against that plan, saying they could use the soldier to benefit their cause.
Raven had no idea who the huge man was, but he was wounded and she had to work fast to stem the bleeding. He had a gunshot wound to his side and she suspected a concussion because of the way he was passed out, although she wasn’t going to ask how the man had received either of the wounds. She doubted she’d get an honest answer anyway.
Working quickly, she evaluated the gunshot wound, her hands already gloved and exploring the edges to assess the damaged flesh. The man was unconscious and she grabbed her stethoscope, searching for a heartbeat. The man’s black shirt was drenched in blood, which was already starting to soak into his black cargo pants. It had taken six men to carry the giant man into the clinic and she changed her mind about where the man should go. “Take him into surgery,” she ordered. “Through the doors to the left.”
The six men changed directions, hauling the man through the surgery doors and laying him on the steel table. The man was so huge, his boots and ankles were dangling off the end of her surgery table.
Raven noticed all of this at a glance even while she was moving around the filthy men who smelled worse than her garbage cans. “What happened to him?” she demanded again. She was using scissors to cut the black material away while the filthy men backed away quickly. Some were nervous, terrified actually, while others actually seemed proud.
There were several shouts, as if everyone were trying to explain and defend at once. “Never mind,” she told them and focused on the wounded man. “Just get out of here. You’re all carrying germs and I can’t have this man die on my table.”
Five of them left but one, the meanest looking of the group, stayed behind. “You will save this man,” he told her.
Raven barely took the time to glance up. “I’m going to try. You’re not helping. Get out.”
The man didn’t move. “You will save him. He is our prisoner. Nothing will happen to him. You understand?”
The menace in his tone startled her enough to get her attention. “Um…” She wasn’t sure what to say. “All of my patients are important. I don’t care if this man is your prisoner or your guest. I will do my best to save him. But he’s lost a lot of blood. If I don’t get started trying to save him, he will die. So, how about if you get out of here so I can do my work?”
The man continued to stare at Raven for a long, tense moment. Finally, he nodded his head and walked out. “I will leave men here to ensure that this man recovers and can serve my purpose,” he told Raven.
She ignored him, continuing to clean the wound. All of her attention was focused on her patient, on saving him, and relieving his pain as quickly as possible.
When the doors were closed to her surgery room, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her hands were quickly cleaning the wound, trying to assess the damage to this man’s abdomen. However, there was no way she could ignore the magnificence of this man’s physique. As a doctor, she took a moment to appreciate the amazing muscles on this man’s body.
He was literally packed with muscles as if he might be some kind of a body builder although he wore the clothes of a soldier. He was enormous! Not to mention, there was something about him, a tension even in his unconscious state that made her…she was being ridiculous, she thought and clamped another blood vessel to stem the blood flow.
Focus! She had to focus. Even now, the man was losing more blood. She wanted to take a moment to call her assistant because she was going to need help with this surgery, but she couldn’t take the time. Clamping the blood vessels as quickly as she could, she was able to stop the bleeding. When she’d finally done that, she cleaned the wound again and started to repair the damage the bullet had done. It seemed like an insane waste to have a bullet damage anything on this man’s magnificent body! It was criminal!
Raven almost laughed at that crazy thought. Of course it was criminal! Shooting anyone was a crime.
Her assistant came in a few hours later, realized what was happening and quickly scrubbed up, diving into the surgery and helping. Raven filled him in on all that she knew, which was very little, and the two continued to work for several more hours. Finally, the wound was fixed, all the tiny vessels sealed up and she was stitching up the wound.
“I’ll finish up,” her assistant told her, reaching out to take the needle. He could see her fatigue and knew that she needed a break.
Raven shook her head even though the muscles in her shoulders were sore and starting to cramp up. She wasn’t sure why, but something about this man called to her, made her almost possessive of him. Of course, he was big enough to take care of himself. But if that were the case, he wouldn’t be here, unconscious and laying on her surgical table with a bullet hole in his side.
“I’ll do it,” she told him. Raven wanted to make sure that the scar from this trauma was as minimal as possible. When she pulled the last stitch through, she took a long moment to survey the man’s body one more time.
Only then did she realize how many other scars had torn up this man’s flesh. It was as if he’d been in several knife fights and she spied a couple of other bullet holes. “What has this man been through?” she whispered in awe and horror.
“I have no idea,” Ben replied, looking at the man over his surgical mask. “But that bullet hole you just sewed up looks to be the worst. Do you know what happened to him?”
Raven finished her last stitch and pushed her mask back to look at the man’s face. He was incredibly handsome in a rough, harsh way. She wondered what color eyes he had. Probably brown, she thought. With that tanned skin and black hair, the dark shadow of a beard on his jaw, he would most likely have the dark, brown eyes of his ancestors.
Long fingers, long legs…everything about this man was enormous. She wanted to run her fingers down his bare chest, but restrained herself. This was her patient and she needed to treat him as such. Not as an object.
Shaking her head, she looked up, only to find Ben staring back at her with a knowing look in his eyes. “So, the lovely Doc Raven finally realizes that she’s a woman, eh?” he teased.
Raven rolled her eyes. “Take him into the recovery room,” she ordered. “And be careful.” That possessiveness hadn’t dissipated simply because she’d finished sewing up his wounds. In fact, after her perusal of his body, that feeling was actually more intense. And pointless. He was a patient and completely off-limits. She was a doctor and had no business ogling her patient.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ben replied, chuckling as he shifted their patient so that he was able to roll him out of the surgery room and into the “recovery” room, which was really just a small, sterile room where patients were monitored until they woke up. More often, it was used to set broken bones or to examine the infants that came in for their checkups.
Raven scrubbed her hands clean, throwing the surgical robe into the laundry to be sterilized and, when there wasn’t anything else to do, she slipped down onto the only chair in the room. With a sigh, she stared up at the ceiling, trying to relax her mind, but it was impossible after looking at that man.
She kept thinking about all of those muscles, and the wounds…she shuddered at all of the pain that man had endured. He obviously was some sort of soldier but she had no idea why anyone would go through that kind of hell and continue with the profession. It seemed brutal and pointless.
But her man also seemed well adapted to that kind of a life. Those muscles weren’t just decorative. He was buff in a strong, powerful kind of way, he didn’t just have bulging muscles that would look interesting on the cover of a magazine.
The noise from the next room slowly sank into her consciousness and she looked out the window. It was morning, she realized. She’d spent more than half the night sewing up a stranger and now her normal clinic patients were coming round for their appointments.
Pushing herself upright, she knew that she would need to hurry. Coffee was the first order of business, she thought with a sigh of exhaustion. She had several ladies that were due to give birth any day now, sore throats, ear infections and all sorts of minor traumas waiting for her today. The life of a doctor in a remote village never really gave her much breathing space. Especially when huge men with bullet holes were brought in during the dead of the night.
Goodness, what she would do for a strong cup of coffee, she thought as she pushed her way to a standing position once again. With a sigh, she walked through the doors and forced a smile to her features as her clinic assistant handed her the first patient file for the day.