Chapter Eleven
I knew this was Tres. Not because I felt a tickle in my throat or because I’d seen his pictures in old portraits and recent magazines. It was because I felt the power of him. Tres was old, older than I was. He radiated the same power as Aleph.
Pictures did not do Tresor Mohandis justice. I’d never had the occasion to come face to face with the man. I’d battled the legend of him for longer than I could remember.
In my mind, he was a land-grubbing ogre. In reality, he was a husky giant. He should have been swathed in reams of fabric like his desert ancestors. Instead of a sheik’s traditional garb, broad shoulders filled out a tailored suit. His pectoral muscles pushed at the front of his crisp white shirt. He stood casually on powerful thighs. Sand-touched skin was stretche
