Sarim's Scent by Juliette Springs Page A

was linked to Sarim.
    His father had never remarried, even though he had had many offers. He often told Khafil no other female could hold a candle to his mother, Millicent, and he was not one to settle for seconds. A portrait of his mother hung in the main living quarters of the Imvura. It was hard to imagine his father as a Taalib Duma, warm and compassionate enough to love and cherish a female, or anyone for that matter. After his mother’s death when Khafil was three, his father had changed to a cold, hard man whose sole purpose seemed to be bringing down Sarim and putting the Imvuras in leadership by placing himself in the Chair of Drumhani. A plan his father had plotted and executed for decades. Even to the point of sacrificing his only son to the cause. He wondered how his father would react when he found out his plans had worked flawlessly, to a point.
    “Father.” Khafil bowed his head and addressed his father when he turned around.
    Zanhoden stared at him with cold, blue eyes. “Have you an update for me? You’ve been given the extra time you requested?”
    “I have,” Khafil answered.
    “Well?”
    “I have located Victoria and as we speak she is sleeping in my guest bedroom.”
    “Excellent,” his father said. “What about the other part of your assignment?”
    “I have done as you have instructed,” Khafil stated emotionlessly. “However there are some issues we must address at once.”
    “What issues?” his father said with a barely concealed sneer. “There should be no issues if you have done what you were assigned to do. All we have to do now is wait to see if the activity was fruitful.”
    Khafil felt a surge of anger. It was time his father realized things would be done his way from this point on. His father was not in a position anymore to arbitrarily call the shots. “Father,” he started, then hesitated, waiting for his father’s full attention.”
    His father paused his pacing.
    “She is my mate and she also—”
    “This is beyond perfect,” his father hissed, his voice filled with excitement.
    “Wait, Father,” Khafil interrupted him. “There’s more.” His father lifted his eyebrow and waited for Khafil to finish.
    “She’s a Dalili Nakissa.”
    “What? Impossible,” his father stated. “There are only a few known ones left.”
    “Well, I have encountered a known one. I’ve seen the Dalili mark myself on the side of her neck.”
    “Impossible,” his father whispered again. “If what you say is true ...”
    “... then we will have the bastard on his knees,” Khafil finished. “The Council will have no choice but to grant our tribe leadership and the chair.” Khafil paused. “However, there is one thing.” His father looked at him expectantly. “I feel uneasy continuing to deceive Victoria. She is my mate after all. That fact alone dictates honesty on my part.”
    “I understand your reluctance to lie to your mate. Mated relationships deserve respect from both partners.” He frowned. “Nonetheless, Khafil, we are so close ... To reveal our hands before the game is over may cost us success. We have waited too long for this.”
    “I know, Father.”
    “I have asked much of you, Khafil. You have always done what I’ve asked of you without complaint, with honor and dignity even as you has been placed in situations that may have broken a stronger Taalib. I have no right to ask anything else of you.” He stopped and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I beg of you for the Imvura Brotherhood, for your mother ... wait until the last stage of our plans are set before you reveal the truth to her.”
    “You ask a lot, Father.” Khafil replied.
    He didn’t want Victoria to hate him. However, he and his father had indeed waited and plotted for decades to get to this point. He was so close to avenging his mother’s death and gaining the Chair of Drumani for the Imvuras. His brothers, his family members who had been outcast and treated with barely veiled disgust