SLAVE TO PASSION

Firebrand - 2

ELISABETH NAUGHTON

For Rachel Grant,

Plotting queen extraordinaire and a whiz at all things title-related.

So thankful to have you in my writing corner of the world!

Chapter One

Pain rippled through every inch of Nasir’s body.

Muscles in his arms and legs quivering, he pushed up on his hands. Gravel and sand embedded in his palms, stabbed into his knees covered by the threadbare pants. Through bloody and sweat-drenched hair, he looked toward the Shaitan across the arena. The djinni’s chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths, and dirt and blood coated his skin from the fight, but he didn’t even seem fazed as he lifted his axe, ready to hurl the killing blow.

Roars from the crowd dragged Nasir’s attention. His gaze shifted to the stands, to the Ghuls—one of the six main tribes that made up the race of djinn—waving their fists, chanting “Kill! Kill! Kill!” as if he were nothing more than an animal.

He ground his teeth, pushed up on one knee. Refused to groan at the blinding pain in his shoulder. He wouldn’t go down like this. Not on all fours in the fighting pits of Jahannam, as entertainment for the most base and depraved djinn tribe. He wasn’t afraid to die, but he wouldn’t do it as a coward. And if he was going out, he planned to take the Shaitan out along with him.

Fire cut across his ribs. His muscles ached as he found his feet. He swayed but somehow managed to steady himself. Blood dripped from the gash in his side, ran down his torso to dampen his waistband. His vision blurred.

He tried to focus on the djinni ahead. Hair he guessed had once been blond but now looked as dirty as the sand beneath them hung to his shoulders. Sweat dripped down his angular and scarred face. As a slave, the Shaitan’s powers were bound, just as Nasir’s were, but the bastard didn’t seem to mind. He had size and brute strength on his side. And the shit-eating grin curling his split lip said he knew Nasir was fading fast.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

The roars grew louder. The Shaitan growled and charged. Nasir gathered what was left of his energy and ducked beneath the swinging axe, thrust out his sword, and caught the Shaitan across the back.

Blood spurted, spraying across Nasir’s face and chest. The Shaitan arched and howled. Nasir’s adrenaline surged, empowering him with a fresh source of strength. He whipped around before the djinni could strike again and stabbed his sword into the Shaitan’s back.

The bastard’s eyes flew wide. The axe fell from his hand as he dropped to his knees. Blood gushed beneath his body, staining the sand of the arena. Breathing heavily, Nasir yanked his blade from the Shaitan’s back and beheaded him in one clean move.

The djinni’s head hit the ground with a thud, followed by his hulking body. Gasps echoed through the arena, then the chants fell silent.

Nasir’s chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm as he looked up into the stands. Disgust rolled through him. They were savages. Every single one of them. Ghuls held no allegiance to any other race. They didn’t care if the winner of this battle was Marid or Shaitan. All they wanted was to be entertained by a gruesome death. But now that he’d given them that, they didn’t utter a sound?

Fuck them. Fuck them all. Their thirst for blood and death had shaped him into the brutal sahad he’d become. Though it sickened a place deep inside him, he knew he’d go on giving them exactly what they wanted. But not for glory or fame or even the miniscule hope that one day he could win his freedom. No, he’d kill again and again because staying alive was the greatest act of rebellion he could thrust upon those who had imprisoned him in this hell.

His arms shot to the open sky, and he roared.

The crowd exploded in excitement, their earlier apprehension forgotten. Females jumped up and down, clapping, waving vibrantly-colored scarves in his direction. Males cheered at the bloodbath at his feet.

Adrenaline pumped through Nasir’s veins. He turned a slow circle, clenched his empty hand into a fist, stabbed his sword higher into the air as he drank in their ovations. He was a Marid warrior, son of the great king, and he’d decimated every single thing those barbarian Ghuls had thrown at him.

“This is not who you are.”

The voice hit him out of nowhere. Soft. Feminine. Sweet. So familiar it stole his breath.

He dropped his arms to his sides. Turned to glance behind him. But he was alone on the sand. With cheers ringing in his ears, he looked up into the stands, his gaze skipping from one exuberant face to the next, searching for her. But all he saw were hundreds of Ghuls, eyes and hair and the clothing of his enemy blending together in a wash of color until he couldn’t focus on a single one. Until the arena spun around him.

Something in his chest cinched down tight, followed by the memory of Talah’s face. Her smile. Her gentle spirit. The way she’d brushed her hand against his jaw and looked at him with tenderness that last day, when he’d left her to fight his father’s war.

When he’d left her to die.

“This is not who you are, Nasir.”

She would not support this. She wouldn’t be awed by his victory. Though she’d hated what the Ghuls were doing—pillaging the Wastelands and threatening their kingdom—she’d despised death more.

The adrenaline waned, leaving him empty and cold. Leaving him feeling as dead as the Shaitan on the sand at his feet.

His gaze drifted to the mutilated body, and for the first time since he’d been imprisoned—for the first time since he’d lost Talah, really—he didn’t recognize himself. All he saw was the monster he’d become.

* * *

Kavin pulled back on the hand gripping her upper arm. “There has to be someone else.”

Zayd turned to face her, stopping in the dank hallway of the dungeon beneath the arena. His features were tight, his short, dark hair only slightly mussed from the dank air that had blown through it in the corridor. Cries of agony echoed through the walls around them, making Kavin’s stomach churn at the torture she could only imagine. The scent of rotting flesh was ever present, but Zayd didn’t seem to notice. He was as focused as she’d ever seen him, and his fingers pressing tightly into her bare skin were a stark reminder that he was in control, not her. “I choose who, female, not you.”

Kavin swallowed hard as she looked up at the Ghul who was, technically, her master. He was born of the aristocracy and could have chosen any female as his latest mistress, but he’d picked her. The fact her family had offered her up without protest still burned in the pit of her stomach. “I…I just think there must be one of better breeding. The Marid is an animal. He—”

Zayd stepped close, tightening his grip around her arm until pain shot up from the spot, cutting off her words midsentence. “Which is exactly why he must be the one. To appreciate all that I have to offer, you must first experience the dreck at the bottom of society.”

Horror washed through Kavin. He really was going to hand her over to that…that thing. “But he could kill me!”

Something dark sparked in Zayd’s eyes, as if he enjoyed the thought of that thing touching her. “He won’t. The Marid has a strong will to live. And he knows if he brings death to you, he’ll be executed. This is the test of all jarriah, my dear. This is your test.”

Bile rose in Kavin’s throat. Jarriah was just another word for concubine. A female sex slave. One of many Zayd kept within his walls.

This is not my life.

The words revolved in her head as he pulled her down the dingy corridor. Her peach gown, the one she’d worn to the arena today in the hopes of pleasing him, was now dirty and wet all along the hem from the water that seeped through cracks in the stones. How had this happened? How had she come to be in this wretched place?

After the initial shock of her family releasing her to Zayd, part of her had been excited. It was customary for highborn males to pick and take the females they wanted. The fact he’d chosen her? A commoner? It was practically unheard of. She’d been blinded by his status and wealth and handsome good looks. Had dreamt of marriage, even knowing most Ghul males took multiple wives. But that had been okay with her, so long as he was kind. And if one day he grew to love her…then nothing else would matter.

But that was before he brought her to his harem and she realized he didn’t want her for his wife. There would be no love between them now, no home or family or future. He looked upon her as nothing more than the slaves who battled to the death in the pit of the arena. As entertainment to meet his depraved needs. And he was now handing her over to the worst of those slaves as a test. To be broken in by a monster, so that when she went back to him, he would look like a shining knight.

He tugged her to a stop in front of a heavy steel door. Two guards stood outside, looked from him to Kavin and back again. The one on the right tightened his grip around the spear he held braced against the floor and said, “The sahad has been chained, my lord, per your instructions, but not prepared.”

“This will not take long,” Zayd answered. “My jarriah is not here for a sample but to simply meet the mighty champion and congratulate him on his latest victory.” A wicked grin curled Zayd’s lips. “Sampling will come later.”

A sickening chuckle echoed from both guards, and Kavin’s skin crawled as they both leered in her direction. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and tried not to let her fear show.

The guards stepped aside. The one on the left unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Scream if you need us.”

Scream?

Kavin’s pulse raced as Zayd pulled her into the cell behind him. She felt the guard’s licentious gazes follow as she stepped past them but was more concerned with the monster that lurked in the dark. Zayd’s footsteps echoed across the stone floor, his fingers pressing deeply into her arm as he jerked her along. A chill slid down her spine, and as her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, she squinted, unable to see anything but Zayd.

For the first time since they’d left the arena, Zayd released his hold on her arm. Silence echoed through the dark chamber, ratcheting Kavin’s anxiety up all over again. Then the heavy cell door clanged shut, causing her to jump and take a step closer to her master.

“Light!” Zayd called.

A scraping sound echoed, then a shaft of light speared into the room from a rectangular hole in the door, illuminating the space enough so she could look around.

There were no windows. Nothing hanging on the walls. Just a single, unmade bed that looked stained with blood and sweat, and a small, wooden table, holding an unlit, dripping candle.

It was a hole. Worse than that, it was a dungeon where hopes and dreams were ground into dust.

“Rise, Marid,” Zayd barked.

Kavin’s heart pounded against her ribs. She stepped behind Zayd as she looked around wildly for the monster she sensed lurking in the shadows. Silence echoed through the darkness like a vast cavern of nothingness, and just when she was sure there was no one there, metal clanged, and a shuffling sounded to her left.

Kavin whipped that way, her eyes wide, her muscles tight and ready to flee. She tried to move farther behind Zayd, but he blocked her, pushing her forward instead. She stumbled. Reached out for Zayd at her back. But he moved out of her reach.

“Come into the light, Marid, so that my jarriah may get a good look at what waits for her.”

Kavin froze. She didn’t know where he was. How close. What he would do to her. She didn’t know anything except terror for the male hidden before her and bitter hatred for the one at her back.

The shuffling echoed again, followed by the clink of chains. And then his big body moved into the light directly in front of her.

Kavin sucked in a breath. Eased back a step until she hit Zayd. He grunted his disgust and moved away once more, making it more than clear she wasn’t finding any safety with him.

But Kavin didn’t try to move again. Fear kept her feet firmly locked in place. The Marid was bigger than he’d seemed in the arena. Still covered in grime, there was a scent about him—sweat, blood, death—one that rolled through her stomach until the desire to gag overwhelmed her.

She held it back, knowing doing so would only enrage him—and her master—and stared at the hulking beast mere feet away.

Chains were cuffed to his wrists. Chains Kavin hoped were locked tight to a wall or bar or something strong enough to restrain him. Dark, stringy hair brushed his bare shoulders. His arms were massive, his naked chest and stomach so hard it looked as if he were carved from stone; his thighs like tree trunks. He wore nothing but filthy, thin black pants that were frayed at the hem, and an opal. A fire opal, strung from a chain around his neck, the stone resting at the hollow of his throat.

It was the fire opal that drew her attention, reflecting an orange-red glow into the room, like flames from a blazing inferno. She’d seen it in the arena. It was all the talk amongst the females who followed the fights. Why did he wear it? Where had it come from? And why had his master not yet removed it?

Questions swirled in her mind as she looked from the opal to the wounds on his flesh, still oozing with blood. Then, finally, to his face.

A square jaw covered in dark stubble, lips set in a hard line, a nose slightly crooked as if it had been broken more than once. With the jagged red scar across his right cheek and the bruises marring his forehead, he looked hulking, feral, menacing. And his eyes… His eyes were dead pools of obsidian staring straight at her.

She stumbled backward, hit Zayd’s chest. But instead of shoving her forward as he’d done before, both of his hands closed around her upper arms, steadying her against him.

“My jarriah does not like what she sees?” A smile wound through Zayd’s words. “That pleases me. Greatly.”

This is not my life. This is not my life! Tremors raced down her spine.

Zayd pushed her forward, this time moving with her. Her shoes scuffed along the floor as he forced her closer to the monster. “Take a good, long look, jarriah. See and smell what will soon be touching you.”

Tears burned Kavin’s eyes. A sob caught in her throat. Though she leaned hard against Zayd, she knew not to fight him or turn her head away. Knew if she did, he’d only lengthen the time she’d be sent to this hell with the monster.

The scent of death wafted in the air around her. That and the bitter bite of blood and sweat. She kept her focus on the opal, tried to breathe through her mouth and not her nose so she wouldn’t get sick, but knew Zayd was waiting. He wanted to feel her fear. Wanted to make her writhe because he was a sick son of a bitch who got off on that kind of thing. Her skin grew tighter, her legs weaker as she fought from giving him what he wanted. But he wasn’t letting go. And knowing it was the only way he’d release her, she finally chanced a look up.

The monster’s gaze was fixed on the wall over her shoulder, not on her. But this close, she could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, see the muscles flex beneath his skin with coiled restraint. He wanted to hurt her. She saw it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He hated her simply because she was Ghul and he was Marid. Because her race had enslaved him here in these pits. Before she could stop it, the way he’d beheaded the Shaitan in the arena flashed in her mind. How he’d so easily decapitated the djinni with such violent ferocity.

He wouldn’t kill her? How could he not? His sheer size, his obvious strength, and his bitter hatred made her impending death so obvious it shook her to her core.

She turned her head away, slammed her eyes shut. Tried to curl into Zayd at her back.

This is not my life!

A menacing chuckle echoed through Zayd’s chest. Then his hands softened at her arms, and he took a step back, tugging her gently with him until, finally, there was space between her and the monster. “Guard!”

Metal clanked metal, followed by a whoosh of air spilling into the room as the door opened. A burst of light rushed into the dark space, blinding Kavin. But all she could focus on was the blessed air and the fact she was safe.

For now.

Zayd gripped her hand and pulled her toward the light. Relief spiraled through her veins. To the guard, he said, “Contact me when the slave has been prepared.”

And just that fast, with one simple sentence, the relief she’d felt fled like a thief in the night. Until all that was left was a rolling sickness in her belly over what horror she’d find waiting when her master forced her to return.

Chapter Two

Kavin stared at the layer of bubbles floating on the surface of the water, feeling as if she were floating right along with them. Warmth enveloped her limbs as she lay in the marble pool, but she was cold to her very core. And the memories of the monster in that cell…

A shudder ran through her.

“Jarriah is cold?” Hana, the servant girl tending to Kavin, moved around a column that soared to the intricately carved ceiling and poured more steaming water from the large bronze pitcher in her hand into the bath. The aromatic scents of roses and orange blossoms wafted in the warm air, but Kavin still shivered.

Hana’s sandals clicked along the polished stone floor as she moved up the wide steps and knelt at Kavin’s back. She reached for a sponge from the side of the pool, dipped it in the water, then dragged it across Kavin’s shoulders and upper back. “Jarriah is tense, too. I take it your meeting with the sahad did not go well.”

“The word sahad makes him sound like some romantic gladiator.” Kavin sat upright, the water sloshing against her bare breasts, the girl’s voice cutting through her frenzied thoughts for the first time since she’d been sent to the baths to prepare herself. “He’s not. He’s a repulsive monster. He’s…”

Bile rose in her throat, but she forced it down, just as she’d done before. This was what was expected of her—to go willingly to meet her fate and complete her test—but every muscle in her body screamed Run! Escape! Disappear before it’s too late! Only she couldn’t. Her djinn powers were bound, and even if they weren’t, she’d never developed them. If she fled Zayd, he’d find her before she even reached the city wall. She’d be captured and executed. And even though something in the back of her mind whispered death might be better, she didn’t want to die. She wanted to live.

Tears burned her eyes. Tears of injustice and rage and disbelief. When she’d been with her family, she’d been free. Now she was nothing but property. A slave. Soon to be a jarriah. Her stomach rolled over at the thought. Soon her only worth would be in fulfilling the lascivious needs of her master.

If, that was, she survived her test.

Anger threatened to run over in a hot wave of tears she just barely held back. She covered her face with her hands, hating that she couldn’t just scream out her frustrations alone. That this servant was here to witness the last moments of her freedom.

“Shh, jarriah,” Hana said as she ran the sponge down Kavin’s bare back and smoothed her wet hair from her face. “It could be worse. He could be Shaitan. Or Infrit. Or one of the Ghuls from the Wastelands. He is Marid. This is a benefit to you.”

“A benefit?” Kavin shot over her shoulder. “I don’t see how any monster raping me for the sick pleasure of some highborn is a benefit, regardless of his tribe.”

Hana harrumphed, then scrubbed the sponge down Kavin’s arm rougher than necessary. “You only focus on the negative. Not the positive. You must accept the fact you are a slave now, jarriah. No different from me or even that djinni you call a monster. Choice is no longer yours. The sooner you accept your fate, the easier your life will be.”

Her life? Easy? Despair washed through Kavin as she stared at the marble along the far edge of the rectangular pool that could easily accommodate ten and, knowing her lecherous master, probably did, routinely. There was no such thing as easy anymore.

Hana moved around the corner of the pool so she could reach Kavin’s right arm and gentled her touch as she trailed the soapy sponge between Kavin’s fingers. “You also overlook the fact the sahad is Marid.”

Kavin glared at the dark-haired girl, her despair angling right back to anger. “What does his being Marid have to do with anything?”

“Do you not know?” Hana’s fingers stilled against Kavin’s, and an amused expression lit her dark eyes. “Marid view females quite differently from Ghuls.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Hana refocused on her task. “They do not treat females as property but as treasures. The jarriah test is Ghul alone.”

“How do you know this?” Kavin asked skeptically.

Hana stepped over the side of the pool and eased into the water, the thin fabric of her simple servant’s dress soaking up the aromatic liquid as she lifted Kavin’s other arm. “When I first came here, I was told of a jarriah who was Marid. She’d been captured during raids on the Kingdom of Gannah.”

“Who told you about her tribe?”

“My mentor. The slave who trained me. She served the Marid female briefly. They gave her to a Shaitan for her test. Shaitans, as you know, jarriah, do not regard females of any tribe as treasures.”

Kavin swallowed hard as she eyed the Ghul slave marking wrapped around Hana’s left bicep—a serpent emerging from black flames. A marking Kavin would soon bear herself, once her test was complete. No, Shaitans were nearly as debased as the wild Ghuls who roamed the Wastelands. She knew her tribe had a bad reputation amongst other djinn, because those in the Wastelands weren’t policed—they raped and pillaged without remorse—but that didn’t mean all Ghuls were bad.

Unease rippled through her when she thought of Zayd and the other highborns who took whatever they wanted without regard for anyone else’s wants or needs. They dressed better than the Ghuls in the Wastelands, were educated and came from noble lines, but were they really any different? Then she thought about her parents, who’d taken the money Zayd had paid them as if it were a blessing. They’d not once tried to find her since they’d sold her. Finally, her mind drifted to what could have been—and probably was—done to a Marid female enslaved by Ghuls during a time of war.

Unease morphed to illness in the pit of her stomach. She looked away from Hana’s tattoo.

“She lived through her test,” Hana said, dropping Kavin’s arm and running the sponge across Kavin’s collarbone. “But she came back changed. Though she still spoke of her mate with hope, as if he could—someday—rescue her, the light was gone from her eyes. My mentor advised her to let her old life go and accept her new fate, but she couldn’t. She did not survive life as a jarriah.”

Shock rippled through Kavin. “The highborns killed her?”

“No, jarriah. She killed herself.”

Dread pooled in Kavin’s soul as she looked down at the soapy water, the bubbles slowly dissipating around her, much as her own will to live. Would that be her fate? If she survived her test, would she ever be able to accept her new role? Or would she slowly wither and die on the inside until there was nothing but a cold, empty shell of her former self left behind?

For the first time, she thought of the sahad in the dungeon of the arena not as a monster but as djinn. What had he been like before his imprisonment? Before being sent to the fighting pits of Jahannam? Had he always been a monster intent on death and destruction? Or had he been something—someone—more?

“Tip your head back, jarriah.”

Kavin did as Hana said and closed her eyes while questions swam in her mind. Warm water trickled down her hair to dribble along her shoulders. A click resounded as Hana set the pitcher on the edge of the pool, then the water rippled as the servant girl moved behind her. Strong fingers massaged Kavin’s hair into a lather.

Long moments of silence echoed through the vast room. Finally, Kavin said, “You mentioned Marid view females differently. That they don’t employ the test. Surely they have other means of keeping their jarriah in line.”

“They don’t keep jarriah.”

“Not at all?”

“Not at all.”

Kavin pondered that as the girl’s fingers moved down the length of wet hair at her back. “Then they must have many wives.”

“Only one.”

Disbelief rippled through Kavin, and she turned her head to the side, expecting to see humor on the slave girl’s face, indicating she was joking. Only, Hana’s face was stoic as she went about her duties. “You can’t be serious.”

“Completely. I told you before. Marid males mate for a lifetime. With only one female.”

Kavin could barely believe what she was hearing. “And what if the female dies?”

Djinn were known to live for a thousand years, but they weren’t immortal. Though they were generally immune to most illnesses, they could be killed, just like humans.

“That,” Hana said as she reached for the pitcher from the side of the pool and filled it with water, “is the only thing that could turn a Marid from civilized to barbarian.”

Kavin’s chest tightened as Hana rinsed her hair. And images of the sahad raining down death and mutilation in the arena, then later standing hulking and menacing in his cell, flashed in front of her eyes all over again.

Hana wrung the water from Kavin’s hair. “You are lucky your master is sending you to a Marid for your test. Considering their instinctive nature, you’ll most likely be safe, even if he is a sahad.”

She rose from the water and lifted a towel from the edge of the pool, which she held open for Kavin. Slowly, Kavin pushed out of the water and stepped into the bath sheet.

Hana wrapped the soft cotton around her naked body but didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned close. “Though, if he’s already lost his mate…” Her breath sent a shiver of foreboding down Kavin’s spine. “Then, if I were you, I would be afraid. I would be very afraid.”

* * *

Three males tattooed with the Ghul slave markings—just like the one Nasir sported on his left arm—treated his wounds.

They didn’t speak as they went about their duties, and Nasir stood still and unmoving as his cuts were stitched, just as he always did. But something was off. Unlike the normal treatment he received after a match, this time the slaves weren’t bathing the grime of the arena from his skin. In fact, the most cleansing they were doing was wiping the dripping blood, then covering the wounds thin bandages.

He didn’t know what that meant, but since he’d been sent to the pits nearly four months ago, not a whole lot surprised him. He stayed alive by staying alert. And right now, his senses were buzzing that something was up.

His gaze drifted from the wall across the room to the slaves around him. Each wore the traditional slave attire—loose gray pants, no shirt, sandals on their feet—and not a single one was more than half Nasir’s size. He knew he could take them if he wanted, but there was no reason. The threat wasn’t in this bathhouse but outside its rock walls. Where guards waited with weapons and magic Nasir couldn’t touch. Where an army of Ghuls itched for any excuse to execute him.

Rage rippled through his veins, the same bitter anger he felt whenever he thought of his captors, whenever he pictured the sorceress who’d trapped him to begin with, whenever he felt the firebrand opal brush the base of his throat. But he tamped down the urge to annihilate, just as he did every day, knowing succumbing to the rage now, before he’d had time to formulate his plan, would do nothing but get him killed.

His gaze swayed back to the wall, and his thoughts drifted to the Ghuls who’d visited his cell earlier. The highborn and the female he’d dragged in behind him. The female hadn’t been branded with the slave tattoo, so the Ghul couldn’t have been her master. Which meant she’d been there by choice, regardless of the little act she’d put on. Was she his lover? His mate? Nasir didn’t know—nor did he care—but some instinct deep inside said whatever the two had planned for him couldn’t be good.

The slaves finished their treatment of his injuries and turned Nasir for the door. Just as he’d predicted, there would be no bath for him today. Which meant someone wanted him to remain filthy. His newest punishment for remaining alive? To be treated as a rat instead of only caged like one?

They marched him down the long stone corridor back toward his cell. Guards in heavy armor with wicked blades were positioned every twenty feet, preventing any hope for escape this day. Heavy steel doors marked the openings to cells Nasir imagined were just as dank and depressing as his. He had no idea how many others were imprisoned here, but knew there had to be many. Every time they threw him into the arena, there was another djinni ready to gut him, as if they had an endless supply of slaves from all six tribes, just waiting to make their mark.

The slaves pulled him to a stop outside his door. The two guards stationed out front stepped to the side, then the one on the right unlocked the door and pushed it open. Darkness beckoned, as did the ever-present scent of mildew and filth. From the corner of his eye, he saw Malik, his trainer, striding his direction down the corridor, speaking in hushed voices with a highborn—the same highborn who’d visited Nasir earlier.

The guard shoved him into his cell and yanked the door closed. A clank echoed through the room, followed by muffled voices from the hallway, but Nasir couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then footsteps receded until all that remained was silence.

Normally, a mu’allim spoke with his sahad after a match, but Nasir had yet to see Malik since killing that Shaitan. Another oddity.

Nasir pondered what that could possibly mean as he moved toward the dark corner of his cell. He didn’t bother to light the one lone candle he was given, nor did he lie on the dirty mattress. Instead, he eased down to rest his back against the cold, unforgiving stone wall.

Comfort was something he didn’t require anymore. There was only one thing that sustained him these days. Only one goal left to achieve. He drew his legs up, rested his elbows on his knees, and stared into the darkness as three words revolved in his mind.

Three words he repeated to himself over and over, day and night, so he wouldn’t lose focus. Three words he would one day soon turn to reality.

Kill them all.

* * *

Kavin’s stomach was so tight she was sure she was going to throw up.

After Hana’s little warning in the baths, she didn’t know what to expect. Nerves ricocheted through her body as the slave girl dressed her in a light blue gown. The dress was like all the rest she’d been given since coming to Zayd’s harem, the material expensive, the bodice work detailed. But she knew it wouldn’t look as extravagant and pristine when the monster was done with her. And that, she supposed, was the purpose of getting all gussied up. So the sahad could tarnish the dress just as he was going to tarnish her, thereby knocking her off any pedestal she foolishly thought she belonged on.

“You’re ready,” Hana announced, stepping back to admire the way the expensive fabric draped across the floor.

Kavin steeled her nerves and lifted her chin. Though her stomach churned with fury and fear, she wasn’t going to break in front of this girl again. She knew her earlier show of emotion was exactly what Zayd was waiting for, that he enjoyed her suffering. At this point she couldn’t stop what was about to happen, but she had enough self respect left not to give him the emotional breakdown he desperately wanted.

Hana opened the door and motioned Kavin through. On shaky legs that were thankfully hidden behind the skirt of her gown, Kavin stepped from her room into the sitting area of the harem.

Several other jarriah were draped over the opulent, gem-colored furnishings, their gowns as expensive and regal as the one Kavin wore, their slave-band markings an in-your-face reminder of what Kavin had to look forward to when she completed her test.

Three jarriah lounging in the room looked her up and down with smug expressions, then resumed their conversation as if Kavin had never entered. But the fourth, a brunette on the far settee, wearing a gold gown and dangling gold earrings, smiled sadly. And in her eyes there was pity.

Kavin looked quickly away and drew a deep breath for courage. Three guards and a male dressed in commoner’s garb, his chest covered by a leather breastplate and a whip tied at his hip, waited on the far side of the room.

It was all Kavin could do to walk across the marble floor without collapsing into a puddle. When she reached the males, she recognized the commoner from the arena. He’d stood near the gates, watching the fight with a keen eye. He stepped forward and took her hand.

His skin was shades darker than hers and warm. And his eyes were gentle. “My name is Malik, and I am to escort you to your test.”

Rape. Kavin wished they’d all just call it what it really was, but she knew better than to say so.

She nodded once—the best she could do—and moved away from Hana, letting the male in the breastplate lead her out into the corridor.

The female chatter from the salon slowly receded as their steps echoed down the opulent hallway with its arched ceiling and towering columns. Two guards walked ahead, one at her back. Malik held her hand, never once letting her pull away as they made their way out of Zayd’s garish compound and stepped into the sunshine.

The glare blinded her, and she held up a hand to block the sun’s rays. Warmth beat against her skin, reflected from the dust beneath her feet, but she barely felt the heat of midday as she was loaded into a carriage. Thoughts spun out of control as Malik climbed in after her, and her pulse raced when the door snapped closed. Then the carriage jolted forward, winding its way through the bustling streets of Jahannam.

Free djinn could teleport through open air, but not slaves. So everyone they passed knew what she was. From the garishness of Zayd’s carriage, most of them knew where she was going and why.

Her stomach rolled. Every turn of the wheels brought her that much closer to her fate, sent her heart rate skyrocketing. Sweat broke out on her skin, ran down the line of her spine, and gathered at the small of her back.

Once, she’d thought the stately buildings and old-world architecture of this city were charming. Now all she could focus on were the guards stationed on the roofs they passed, the wall that surrounded the city and kept its inhabitants locked inside, and the stark difference between the commoners on the streets and the highborns like Zayd who occupied the garish towers around her and commanded others to do whatever the hell they wanted.

“…remember that and you’ll be fine.”

Malik’s voice cut through her frantic thoughts. Unable to steady her rapid breaths, Kavin turned his way. “Wh-what did you say?”

Malik squeezed her hand. His hair was short and dark, his body lean and muscled. This close, she could see that he wasn’t wearing a shirt under his breastplate, and along the edge of the leather that covered his left shoulder and upper arm, the distinct black flames of the slave marking peeked beneath his armor.

He wasn’t a commoner after all. Her gaze shot to his face once more. He was a slave, like her, being ordered to do someone else’s will. And though his eyes were kind, they also hinted of secrets she didn’t want to know. “I said, the Marid looks imposing in the arena, but in the cell, he’ll seem even more so. Weakness is your greatest enemy. Remain strong, and you’ll be fine.”

Fine. Yeah, right. She was so far from fine it wasn’t funny.

Kavin focused on the seat ahead as the carriage rolled down the cobblestone streets and finally slowed to a stop.

The door pulled open. Her stomach flipped like a fish out of water as Malik tugged on her arm, pulling her to her feet. She stepped out into the fading sunlight once more and squinted. The stone-and-wood walls of the arena rose to the sky, but unlike in the busy streets behind them, there were no commoners milling here. No shopkeepers trying to hock their wares. No vendors selling steamy food as there were no fights scheduled for so late in the day. Just more guards, more armor, and more weapons reminding her she was as much a prisoner as the sahad who waited for her.

She couldn’t focus on any one thing as she was ushered through the main door and drawn down a long hallway. They pushed her onto a lift, pulled her into a dank hallway, dragged her along the same stone floor she’d traveled earlier with Zayd. But this time, the moans in the cells around her, the dripping water, the scent of rotting flesh drove the anxiety higher up her throat until it was all she could do not to scream.

Finally, they pulled her to a stop in front of a steel door protected by two males. The guards who’d escorted her stepped back, their spears clicking against the ground. Her heart pounded against her ribs so forcefully she was amazed they didn’t crack. At her side, Malik turned her to face him. “Remember, do not show weakness.”

Do not show weakness. Right. Like she could do that.

She swallowed hard. Her pulse was a whir in her veins as the guard turned the key in the lock. As she faced the door once more. A click resounded through the dingy corridor, then the heavy door swung inward, the darkness inside looming like a menacing shadow, beckoning her forward to meet her fate.

Her legs shook. Her breaths grew shallow and uneven. Perspiration dotted her forehead and slid down her spine.

This is not my life. Hysteria built in her chest. This is not my life!

“I’ll come for you when it’s over.” With a gentle hand, Malik pushed her forward.

Kavin stumbled, caught herself from hitting the ground face-first. At her back, the cell door snapped closed with an ominous boom, blocking out all light, all freedom, all hope.

A sob caught in her throat as she gripped the cold stone wall and turned to look into the darkness. Fear shook her whole body. Her frantic gaze darted from side to side, searching for the monster, but she couldn’t see even a foot in front of her. Nothing but silence echoed in the musty space, sending her heart rate into the out-of-this-world range.

Long moments passed. She tried not to move. Tried not to breathe. Prayed he couldn’t see her as she couldn’t see him. Prayed he wasn’t really in this pit and that someone, somewhere had made a mistake.

This is not my life!

And then she heard it.

The draw of air.

The rasp of breath.

The shuffle of cloth as something big moved directly in front of her.

Chapter Three

The female was back.

Sitting in his corner, Nasir had seen her clear as day when the door had pushed open. Curly, auburn hair that hung to her shoulders, pale skin, a light blue gown that screamed of her status, and the stark look of fear in her eyes before darkness had fallen once more.

Fury built inside him, morphed to a rage he couldn’t control. Because he was imprisoned here. Because they were fucking with him now. Because he’d been trapped by that bitch of a sorceress in the first place. Because Ghuls—her violent, depraved, repulsive people—had destroyed everything he’d once loved.

Thankful that this time they hadn’t chained him, he lurched to his feet and stalked across the barren cell. Then he grasped the female’s neck in a move she couldn’t track in the dark.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled.

“Pl-please!” she rasped, clawing at his hand.

“This is not a game. I am not some puppet.” He squeezed, the red rage of retribution controlling him. “You and your mate chose the wrong fucking cell, female.”

She choked. Sputtered. Coughed as his fingers pressed harder against her neck. Her fingernails dug into his forearm, but he barely felt the pain. Her pulse beat beneath his skin, started to slow. What little air was getting through rasped out of her lungs. Something warm and wet dripped onto his hand.

“This is not who you are.”

The voice—Talah’s voice—echoed through the room. Nasir’s head jerked up; he glanced around the darkness of his cell, searching for her. But just as in the arena, she wasn’t there.

The female pawed at his arm, this time with less force, a fraction of the fight she’d shown earlier. “Ple-please,” she rasped one more time. “He’s not my mate.”

“This is not who you are, Nasir.”

His attention swung back to the female he held pinned against the wall. Then his gaze dropped to his hand, wrapped tight around her throat, ready to squeeze out what was left of her life.

His skin grew hot, and the air tightened in his lungs. What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t him. This was the killer the highborns had created in the arena. This was…the way a Ghul would react.

He released her. Moved back quickly, feeling as if he’d just been sucker-punched. His head spun. The room tilted. Riding a wave of nausea, he stumbled until his spine hit the far wall, then sank down to the ground, dropping his forehead in his hands.

Talah’s voice echoed in his mind, dimmer this time but still there, and he tried to conjure her face but couldn’t. His memory of her was slowly fading. And though he fought to keep her close, he was afraid he was waging a losing battle. Feared, more than anything, that once she was gone for good, he’d lose the fight for his sanity and truly become the monster the Ghuls were grooming him to be.

Fabric rustled, and rapid breaths crossed the space, echoed near his ears. “Please,” the female rasped again. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Stomach still swirling, he lifted his gaze, peered across the cell. He could see well in the dark, had spent months getting used to it. But she probably couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her.

She’d dropped to the floor, was sitting against the far wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, her shaking arms wrapped tight around her skirt, her hair a wild tangle framing her face. And her eyes… He couldn’t miss them. Wide, the whites clearly visible, reflecting a terror he knew she wasn’t faking this time.

He didn’t know who she was or why the hell she was here, but he didn’t care. She was Ghul, and for him, that was all that mattered.

He pushed to his feet, then receded back into his shadowy corner. “If you stay exactly where you are, Ghul, and don’t move, then perhaps I’ll let you live out the night.”

* * *

A loud metallic clank startled Kavin out of a restless sleep.

She jolted from the floor, scrambled to her feet. Held up a hand to block the glare from the corridor spilling into the musty cell.

Freedom. She blinked into the light. Oh, Allah, at last. They’d come to rescue her from this hellhole.

She didn’t care who was out there. She lurched through the open door and the promise of fresh air. Of safety. A sob echoed in her throat as light blinded her eyes. Strong arms closed around her. Followed by a gentle voice echoing from above. One she recognized from yesterday.

“There, there, jarriah. All is well.”

Malik. He’d brought her to this pit, but she didn’t even care. He was strong. He was warm. He was comforting against her cheek in a way she didn’t expect and didn’t want to analyze.

She closed her eyes as the sting of hot tears burned her eyelids. The cell door clanked closed behind her, echoing like a cannon through the space. Her heart raced with relief. With joy. With the fact she’d survived. Elation carried her so swiftly she didn’t even worry about the guards watching her or that her mental undoing would eventually reach Zayd’s ears.

All she cared about was that she was alive.

Hands braced against her upper arms, Malik pushed her back, stared down at her. Realizing how foolish she must look, Kavin dropped her head into her hands, tried to get in control of her emotions. Not only had she survived a night in the pits, the monster hadn’t touched her after that first instance. In fact, she hadn’t seen or heard from him since. She didn’t know why he hadn’t raped her, but she was so very thankful for his disinterest now.

Feeling stronger, she swiped at her eyes, tried to smile for Malik’s benefit. But when she lifted her gaze to his, she didn’t see concern or curiosity in his dark eyes. She saw fury.

His jaw clenched so hard it was a slice of stone beneath his skin. His mouth cut a tight line across his tanned face. With two fingers, he tilted her chin up, studied her neck. Realizing there must be marks, Kavin gently touched a fingertip to the cool skin, only to cringe when pain shot through her body.

“I thought he had more restraint than a common animal.” Before she could tell Malik she was okay and that nothing else had happened, his head snapped up, and he looked toward the guards behind him, the ones who had also escorted her to the pits the day before. “Take her back to the harem at once.”

One guard grasped her arm, pulled her away. But Kavin heard the venom in his voice. And the promise of retribution. “Wait. Malik—”

“It’s all right, jarriah,” he said as the guard dragged her down the hall away from the cell, his voice softer but still teeming with disgust. “I’ll make sure he’s properly rewarded for his behavior.”

Kavin tried to look behind her, but one guard tugged her forward while another blocked her view. At her back, she heard the Marid’s cell door clang forward, followed by Malik’s voice, shouting, “Get up, maggot. Your mu’allim’s here to teach you a thing or two about respect.”

Kavin’s pulse raced as the guards hauled her from the dungeon of the arena, out into the early morning sunlight, then shoved her into a waiting carriage. Malik had used the word mu’allim. He was the sahad’s trainer, not just any common slave. As the cart rocked across the street and the city sped by her window, she remembered seeing him near the gates of the arena, watching the Marid’s match with… What had she seen on his face that day? Not just interest but…pride.

If he’d trained the Marid, of course he’d have a vested interest in the sahad’s wins, but mu’allims trained more than one sahad. And pride… That was something else altogether different.

Her mind spun as the carriage came to a stop, as the guards opened the door and tugged her from inside. Light blinded her as she stepped onto the street. She felt the questioning stares of vendors and commoners as she moved, knew she had to look a mess and that most had probably already figured out what she was and where she’d been, but she barely cared. There were too many questions running through her head. Too many unexplained oddities she wanted to understand.

Oddities? You just survived being raped, and you’re worried now about the beast who nearly killed you?

She gave her head a swift shake and stepped into the opulent building that belonged to Zayd. But while the lift jostled her and the guards upward, she thought about the Marid. About why he hadn’t killed her. Why he hadn’t raped her. And though she knew it was useless, she couldn’t stop wondering who he had once been and how he’d been captured in the first place.

The guard to her right set the crank and locked it, bringing the lift to a stop. Then he muscled the gate open and stepped back. Hana was right there to greet them. She took Kavin’s hand and pulled her into the harem. “Come. Quickly. He’s waiting.”

Kavin stumbled forward. She’d lost a shoe somewhere, and her bare foot landed hard on the polished marble floor, sending a jolt through her body. The brush of cool air told her the soft blue gown was ripped near her shoulder. Belatedly, she was aware of dozens of eyes in the room—other jarriah—but this time, she didn’t see pity on their faces. She saw concern.

Her mind a thick soup of haze, she was pulled down a hall and into her suite of rooms. Relief washed through her when she eyed the plush furnishings, including the soft bed she’d slept in the last few weeks. But it quickly turned to unease when Zayd rose from the wingback chair near the fireplace and turned to face her.

Approval flashed in his eyes as he looked her over from head to foot. Then his gaze fixed on her neck—on the bruises she knew he could see—and a smug grin creased his face. To Hana, he said, “Remove that soiled gown.”

Shock rippled through Kavin. In the two weeks she’d been in Zayd’s home, he hadn’t once touched her anywhere but on her arm and face. And she’d never been naked in front of him.

Before she could protest, Hana ripped the gown from her body, the tearing fabric echoing in the vast bedroom suite. Kavin gasped. Cool air rushed over her skin, tightening her nipples, sending a shiver through her entire body. But she didn’t cover herself. She knew better.

Eyes hot and predatory, Zayd stepped close. His hot breath washed over her skin while he looked down at her bare breasts, as he slid his gaze to her belly, then finally all the way to her sex. His jaw clenched, and her stomach tightened at what he was seeing. Fear flitted through her veins over what he was thinking.

Then she saw it. Disapproval—stark and violent—flashed in his eyes. He’d expected the rest of her body to be bruised like her neck. Had wanted it.

“Zayd—”

His fingers were against her sex before she realized what he was doing. Before she could stop him. She sucked in a frantic breath, threw her hands out to push against his arm. Screamed, “No! Stop!”

But as quickly as he’d touched her, he withdrew, and when he eased back, she didn’t just see disapproval in his eyes, she saw disgust and bitter rage.

To Hana, he growled, “Hold her arms.”

He knew she was still a virgin. Panic welled in Kavin’s chest as Hana stepped behind her, gripped both of her arms, and wrenched them behind her back. “Zayd, wait—”

“Don’t fight,” Hana whispered near her ear, just as Zayd’s open palm connected with her cheek.

Pain spiraled through her face, the force of the slap spinning her head to the side. She gasped at the blow, gave her head a shake, tried to think clearly. “Zayd—”

Another hit. This one across her abdomen. With something thin, made of leather. A blinding burn erupted across her flesh, exploded through her belly. She nearly went down, but Hana’s strength kept her from hitting the floor.

“You failed, jarriah. Failure is not tolerated. You will be punished.”

He hit her with the leather again and again, across her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. She grunted through the pain, through the red welts forming across her skin. Her stomach hurt so bad, she absently wondered if he’d broken something inside her, then knew if he had, he wouldn’t care.

“Release her,” he barked

She hit the floor at his feet, tried to move back but needed to catch her breath first. A white towel landed near her hands. Limbs shaking, she reached for it.

Zayd’s boot covered the towel before she could get her fingers around the cotton, then he knelt in front of her face. Those eyes, the ones she’d at first thought were handsome, focused on hers with a menacing glare that sent a tremor down her spine. “If even a sahad in the pits of Jahannam won’t fuck you, you’re of no use to my harem. Do whatever you must to get the monster to use you, or I’ll leave you in the pits to rot right along with him.”

Fear and disbelief rushed through Kavin. He was sending her back? No, no, no…

He ran a finger down her still-stinging cheek, something he’d done several times since he’d bought her, as if he were admiring a sculpture or favorite possession. And though she fought it, Kavin trembled all over again.

“So beautiful…” Carefully, he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. Only this time, when she looked, she didn’t see fury in his features any longer. She saw truth. A bitter truth that chilled her to the bone.

He leaned in close to her ear. “And if, on the fifth day, jarriah, you’ve still failed? I’ll have you beheaded in the city square for all to witness. After I’ve sufficiently punished you myself.”

Chapter Four

Nasir ducked out from beneath Malik’s attack, swiveled, and nearly missed being skewered. Unlike the wooden training sword he used, his mu’allim wielded a steel blade, one that could inflict serious injury. And seeing how his trainer’s deeply tanned features were currently twisted in a fit of rage, that possibility didn’t look far off the mark.

Breathing heavily, Nasir swung out, his fake sword clanking against Malik’s real one with a deafening clap. Dust blew up from the training circle, flew into his eyes. He blinked twice, dropped to the ground, and rolled away from another near-fatal blow.

“Get up!” Malik roared.

Nasir scrambled to his feet, his sandals skidding on the loose sand of the training arena, and tried to catch his breath. Crouched, ready to deflect whatever Malik threw his way, he swiped at the blood and sweat that dripped into his eyes and blurred his vision. But his trainer came at him again and again, never giving him time to orient himself, never giving any explanation for the intensity of the exercise. And as he fought simply not to be fileted, Nasir knew this was more than a simple lesson. This was retribution for what had happened in his cell last night.

Malik swung out again, and Nasir dodged another shot to the ribs. But before he could strike, Malik held out his left hand, and a surge of energy shot from his fingertips, slamming into Nasir’s chest, sending him flying back ten feet through the air to land flat on his back with a crack on the hard ground.

Stars fired off in Nasir’s line of sight. The training sword fell from his hand. He shook his head to clear his vision, then stilled when the tip of Malik’s blade pressed against his throat.

“That, sahad,” Malik said, glaring down at him, “was a warning. My magic is not completely bound here, like yours. Where I come from there are penalties for what you did to that female.”

Malik withdrew the blade, stepped over Nasir before he could answer, and headed for the arched doorway on the far side of the ring. To the guard standing at the door, he barked, “Get him cleaned up and dump him back in his cell. And only half rations for him tonight.”

Slowly, Nasir sat up, rubbed at his still-swimming head. Dust and sand flicked from his hair, rained down his shoulders. Every inch of his body hurt from the workout, but thankfully, no one besides his guards had seen his mu’allim kick his ass. Because he was the champion of Jahannam, he trained alone. He lived alone; he ate alone; when it came time, he’d die alone. Remembering what he’d done to that female last night without so much as a second thought, he knew being alone was best for everyone.

He pushed up on his knee, cringed at the pain in his side. One look told him it wasn’t a pulled muscle as he’d thought. Blood dripped down his hip and onto his leg. Shaking off the sand, he picked up his training sword and hobbled toward the guards.

“This is not who you are, Nasir.”

“It is fucking now,” he growled under his breath, not even slowing this time at the sound of Talah’s voice ringing in his ears. It was time he stopped fighting who he’d become. The sooner he let go of Talah and a life he’d never return to, the more Ghuls he could kill. And before the sorceress who’d sent him to this hell called him back, he planned to take out as many Ghuls as he could.

His side pinched as he bathed. While they allowed him to clean himself this time, no one offered to stitch the wound. Another punishment, he realized. If he caught some deadly infection in his filthy cell, no one would care. After covering the gash as best he could with a clean piece of cloth, which he tied around his torso, he dressed in a new pair of black pants, then headed for the door. The guards parted. In the dank corridor, the smell of food being delivered to different cells pulled a growl from his stomach.

More tired than hungry, all he wanted was to fall onto his uncomfortable mattress and go dead to the world. Between the female trembling in his cell and Talah’s voice haunting him half the night, he’d been bleary-eyed and on edge by morning. But oh so thankful when he’d finally found himself alone. Until, that was, Malik got hold of him.

He stopped in front of his cell, took the tray the guard handed him with its measly rations. As the guard pulled the cell door open and smirked, Nasir wondered what—besides his latest beating—the fucker could possibly find amusing.

The cell door clanged shut behind him. The soft scent of roses filled the air.

And then he knew.

A single candle burned on the table beside his bed, sending flickering orange light cascading over the stone walls. Red hair spilled across his pillow; bare feet rested near the foot of his bed. But it was the slim female curled up on his dingy mattress, wearing nothing but a black gown bunched around her thighs, her hands tucked up near her face, her eyes closed as her chest rose and fell with her steady, sleep-filled breaths, that drew his steps to an abrupt halt.

* * *

Kavin’s eyes flew wide at the loud clap somewhere close.

She jerked upright. Disoriented from sleep, she blinked several times and tried to figure out where she was. Cold stone walls, one flickering candle, an uncomfortable mattress beneath her, and…oh, shit…an enraged sahad glaring from above.

“What the fuck are you doing here again?”

Kavin’s pulse shot up, and she swallowed hard, scrambled back. But the bed was pushed up against the wall, leaving her trapped.

“I…” Don’t show fear. Malik’s words from yesterday flitted through her mind, searched for footing, finally latched on tight when terror wanted to drag her under. “I…I was sent to you.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “By whom?”

He didn’t know? Her foggy mind spun, and she remembered Hana telling her that Marid didn’t keep jarriah. That the jarriah test was Ghul alone. “I…I’m your reward,” she stammered. “For your recent victory.”

He stared at her so long her heartbeat sped up until it was a blur echoing in her ears. Shit! Had she really just said that? Her hands shook, and she balled them into fists against the dingy mattress, hoping he wouldn’t see.

“You’re a reward?” he asked skeptically. “From whom?”

“From…” What should she say? She looked around, frantically searching for an answer, and caught sight of the metal tray of food at his feet. The tray he’d dropped against the unforgiving stones to wake her.

Malik was right—she’d realized his logic after Zayd had hit her, but this cemented it. The only way she was going to survive this new life was to never show fear—in front of Zayd, in front of whomever he sent her to, in front of this sahad. It was a long shot—thinking he might treat her differently if he believed she was here by choice rather than as a punishment—but at the moment, it was the only option she had left.

She lifted her chin and prayed it was too dark for him to see it shaking. “From the highborns.”

“The highborns don’t care about my victories. They’d just as soon see me dead.”

That was true, but she grasped on to another truth. One he likely didn’t know. “The females… They root for you. For the sahad who wears the fire opal.”

His cold stare burned into her from across the space. So unfriendly, so calculating, she was afraid he was debating whether to kill her now or let her live a few more measly minutes. She balled her hands together in her lap. Tried to keep them from trembling. Tried like hell to be strong, as Malik had told her to be.

“I don’t believe you,” he finally said, his low voice cutting through the silence, sending a shiver down her spine. “You don’t have the slave marking.”

She didn’t. And he obviously didn’t realize she just hadn’t been branded yet. Which meant she was right. He didn’t know what she was.

A tiny flicker of hope burst to life in her chest as her gaze lifted from those massive hands at his sides, up his bare arms and shoulders, and finally to his chiseled face, illuminated by the flickering candlelight. If he didn’t know she was a slave and instead thought she was a highborn who’d volunteered to be his reward, he’d likely be gentler with her. Maybe he’d even let her live.

That hope spread like wildfire all through her body. It wasn’t the best solution, but it was better than being brutally raped. She’d survived Zayd’s temper tantrum. Yeah, her skin still burned from the beating, but she now knew she could survive anything this Marid did to her, so long as he didn’t kill her. Because she wanted to live. Now more than ever. It might be years—even eons—before she found a path to freedom, but she was determined to do just that. Screw her parents who’d sold her into slavery and already forgotten her. She was the only person who cared about her. And it was far past time she stopped worrying and started strategizing.

Slowly, she pushed up from the stained mattress and stood in front of him on legs she hoped he couldn’t see trembling. This close, every flexing muscle beneath his skin, every ounce of waiting power was visible. And she could smell him. Not disgusting and revolting as he’d been before, but clean, male, strangely…enticing.

She gave herself a mental slap. Yeah, at first she’d been mesmerized by his show in the arena and, like other females who’d watched his fights, couldn’t deny he was the perfect male specimen, all sculpted lean muscles and brawny sinew. But she wasn’t attracted to him. He was simply the first hurdle on her path to freedom.

“I’m not a slave,” she lied, praying he’d never learn the truth. “And I volunteered to be your…prize.”

His eyes narrowed once more, but she didn’t let it deter her. This was the only card she had to play, and she’d bluff all the way to her grave if she had to. “I thought I made it perfectly clear yesterday that I don’t want you.”

Fear flashed through her when she remembered his hand around her throat. Fear she hoped didn’t show in her eyes. Thankfully, the bruises were small and, in this light, probably not even visible. Steeling her nerves, she moved a small step closer, even as the heat of his body encircled her and that intoxicatingly fresh scent she now knew was all him left her light-headed.

“Your wants are of no concern,” she said. “And you’re lucky the highborns didn’t kill you for the way you treated me last night. They’re giving you a second chance. It goes without saying that a gift like this can’t—and won’t—be refused…slave.”

She didn’t miss the sharp burst of anger that rippled through his eyes at her use of the word “slave.” But she also saw the bitter bite of truth when he realized she was right.

Fear and hope swirled together in her stomach. The trap was laid. Now she just had to go in for the kill.

Could she do this?

Her nerves jangled. Her stomach tightened with indecision.

For life? For freedom…?

Yes. Reality settled like a granite stone in the bottom of her stomach as she stared into his dark, unreadable eyes, giving her a courage she’d lacked before. A courage she’d need if she wanted to win this game. She could do this. To stay alive, she would do this.

She took another slight step forward, lifted a hand, and slowly rested it against his rock-hard chest. He didn’t move a muscle, only stared at her with hard, onyx eyes she knew she’d remember forever. But heat and life pulsed beneath her palm, warming her from the outside in, amping that courage from the ground up.

Gathering every ounce of strength, she whispered, “The easiest way to get rid of me, sahad, is to take the gift now.”

Chapter Five

Nasir’s heart raced beneath the highborn’s hand.

He was male, and she was as close as any female had been in months, so it made sense he’d react to her. But even with his djinn powers bound, he could tell something was off.

Gone was the scared and timid female he’d spent a long and miserable night locked with in this cell. Gone was the one who’d cowered from him when the Ghul had brought her to view him that first day. Unlike before, now she stood proud and confident, her head held high, her chin jutted out in challenge. But there was something in her eyes…a spark of unease, a hint of worry…and the slightest tremble to her lower lip that told him she wasn’t quite as sure as she wanted him to believe.

The contrast sent questions swirling through his mind. Was his humiliation some new perverse form of amusement to the Ghuls? Had she been sent here to break him mentally since they couldn’t break him physically in the arena? Disgust rolled through his stomach. They could beat him. They could make him fight. But he wasn’t going to willingly be manipulated. Whoever she was and for whatever reason she was here, he didn’t care.

He closed his hand over her wrist, then whipped her around so her back was plastered to his front and his arms were closed around her, locking her against him.

“Sahad—”

“Listen to me very carefully, female,” he said into her ear, ignoring the soft curves of her ass pressing into his groin, the heat from her body radiating into his, and the silky smooth feel of her bare skin against his. “I don’t care what you or your highborn friends have planned. I’m not a pawn in your fucking game. And I won’t be told what—or who—to do.”

He released her, flinging her around to face him once more, then stepped back. Surprise—and yes, a new shot of fear—widened her eyes. Her balance went out from under her, and she dropped onto the mattress with a grunt. “But you can’t—”

Definitely not as confident as she wanted him to believe.

“I’m also not in the mood to talk.” Nodding toward the food he’d dropped when he’d walked in and seen her sound asleep on his bed, he said, “If you’re hungry, eat. You’ve already ruined my appetite. But stay the hell on your side of the cell. And when they come for you tomorrow, make sure you don’t return.”

He blew out the candle on the table beside the bed, then moved into his corner and lowered himself to the blanket on the floor. Pain radiated up his side, and he was so exhausted all he wanted was sleep. But he knew he’d get neither relief nor rest with the female in his cell. Not tonight, anyway.

For several long moments, silence echoed through the room, then the springs on the bed creaked, and very quietly, whispered words echoed through the room. “It’s not my game.”

He wasn’t sure if she’d said them or if he’d imagined them, but he didn’t care. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. Only a sliver of light splayed under the cell door, illuminating a mere few feet, but he could see that the female had ignored the food he’d offered and lain back down. Except this time—though she was once again on her side with her hands tucked up near her face—her black dress completely covered her legs, and her eyes were wide and, very definitely, not the least bit sleepy.

He closed his eyes to block her out, leaned his head back against the stones, and saw her determined eyes in his mind. Green eyes, he’d noticed in the candlelight, like shimmering emeralds. Followed by the drape of curly red hair around her shoulders, the neckline of her black dress dipping low into seductive cleavage, and the strap on her shoulder falling to her upper arm, all but begging to be tugged off. With his teeth.

Fuck, this was going to be a long-ass night.

He swiped a hand down his face, brushing away sweat that had gathered on his brow. If they’d handpicked her to mess with his head, they’d done one hell of a good job in the selection. It wasn’t just that she was hotter than sin—smooth features, a slightly upturned nose, mesmerizing eyes, and a body he already knew was made to be touched—or that he’d been without female companionship for ages. It was the fact she vacillated between confident and afraid, that she stood her ground even when she wasn’t sure of his reaction. That she’d come back at all after what he’d done to her yesterday.

She had to be stupid, brainwashed, or simply fucked in the head.

It’s not my game.

An odd sensation rolled through his belly, stopping his train of thought. Had she come by choice? Or had she been forced? His mind spiraled back to that first day, when the Ghul had pushed her forward. The amusement the male had exuded; the fear radiating from her. Was she as much a chess piece in all of this as he was?

Except…that didn’t make sense. She was Ghul. Not only that, she was a highborn Ghul.

Not all Ghuls are evil.

His own words washed over him like a wave cresting the shore, sending foreboding trickling down his spine. As the female’s shallow breaths across the room gave way to longer, deeper ones, his memories drifted back to those last few moments he’d spent with Talah. Standing on the cliffs behind her house, overlooking the sea. The salty air blowing her long, dark hair back from her face.

“You worry too much, Nasir.”

“This is my father’s war, not mine. If it were up to me—”

“If it were up to you, there’d be a treaty. But your father is right. The Ghuls don’t want peace. War is the only solution.”

“Not all Ghuls are evil, Talah. Like us, like humans even, some are good and some are bad. War is not the way to solve our differences.”

Her expression said she didn’t agree. But she smiled up at him in that placating way he’d come to dread and lifted her fingers to his cheek. “Forever the pacifist. You have a gentle spirit, Nasir. If anyone can see the good at the heart of a person, it’s you.”

He wasn’t sure of that. But he closed his eyes, leaned into her touch, wanting to be comforted by her words. He’d preached about tolerance and acceptance, and now he was doing the very thing he’d argued against. He still believed peace was possible, even if his father disagreed, but because he was second in line to the throne and a general in the king’s army, he had no choice. That didn’t mean he was naïve enough to think that there wouldn’t be consequences, though, or that he’d escape unscathed.

His eyes popped open. “Come with me to the castle. Until I can convince the king to stop this asinine war, you’ll be safer there.”

“Nasir—”

He ground his teeth together. “Don’t feed me arguments about not wanting to live with me before we wed or your work at the infirmary, Talah. Just humor me in this.”

She sighed, stared at his breastplate marked with the golden flame of the Marid tribe. Bit her lip as she debated what he hoped was a losing argument. Just this once, he needed her to acquiesce and not be so damn stubborn.

Finally, she sighed. “You’re impossible, Marid.”

“You’re not the first to tell me that.”

“All right,” she said, looking up. “But not today. I have to let the others know I’m leaving so they have time to find a replacement at the infirmary. At least, temporarily.” Her gray eyes sparked. “This doesn’t mean we’ve agreed to anything, though, or that I’ve decided.”

Relief washed through him as he dragged her into his arms. He could live with that. So long as she was safe, he’d have time to find a way to convince her she couldn’t live without him. “I’ll send castle guards to escort you tomorrow.”

He kissed her, slowly, gently, with every bit of passion he had in him, and when he eased back, he saw the doubt in her eyes. Doubt he planned to alleviate the moment he returned from this useless battle his father was sending him to.

He skimmed a finger down her soft cheek. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

Her brow furrowed. “I know you think you will, Nasir, but you can’t. And I don’t need anyone to keep me safe. Death comes to us all at one point. You can’t stop it any more than I can. And I wouldn’t want you to.”

Regret burned hot behind Nasir’s closed eyelids, but he fought back the emotions struggling to shatter the shell he’d built around himself. So many times he’d thought about dropping his sword in the arena, of giving up and letting the Ghuls win so he could join Talah in the afterlife, but something always held him back. Though it went against everything he’d once been, he wouldn’t rest until every last Ghul was destroyed. And not until he found a way to kill the sorceress who’d commanded the Ghuls to pillage Talah’s village in the first place.

The female on his bed sighed. Opening his eyes, Nasir looked her way, fighting back the resentment at her presence. Thankfully, she was still asleep. He watched a wayward curl brushed her cheek and fall over her mouth, her slow breaths fluttering the lock of hair against her lips, reminding him of Talah’s hair blowing in the breeze that last day.

What would Talah have done if she were in this female’s place? If she’d been thrown in here with him, would she have stood her ground or backed down? He’d been drawn to Talah’s gentle spirit, her willingness to help those less fortunate, but she’d never been a fighter. In fact, the biggest regret he had was that he’d never taught her how to protect herself so she would’ve known what to do when those Ghuls attacked.

The female shivered, and Nasir looked down at the blanket he was sitting on with a frown. He already wasn’t getting any love from Malik. If the highborn died from exposure in this freezing cell, not only would his mu’allim be after him, the Ghuls would flat-out execute him, no questions asked. And while death didn’t scare him in the least, it wouldn’t help him achieve his goal of revenge.

Pushing to his feet, he gripped the blanket and stood upright. His head spun, and the room tilted. Bracing a hand against the wall to steady himself, he told himself it was lack of food. He eyed the tray across the room, the metal picking up the light from under the door, and thought about eating. Then his stomach rolled, stopping that thought dead in its tracks.

Sleep was a better idea. He shuffled across the floor, tossed the blanket over the highborn, and swiftly tugged it up to her shoulders. But before he could get a step away, she sighed, snuggled deeper into the cotton, and licked her plump, pink, perfect lips.

His gaze drifted over her features. So different from Talah’s. Freckles across the bridge of her nose, a mole near the corner of her right eye, high cheekbones, and just the slightest dimple in her chin. With her pale skin and those startling eyes, there was no denying that she was…exotic.

The word revolved in his mind the longer he stared at her, unable to look away. He’d seen hundreds of Ghuls since he’d been here, but none of the females, slaves or free, had been as enticing as her.

She sighed again, the sound jolting him out of his trance. Enticing? Shit. He smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead and turned back for his corner.

“Not exotic,” he mumbled. “Stupid.” It was more than possible the highborns were setting some kind of trap for him with her, and he was even more determined now not to fall into it.

He lowered himself back to the cold floor, shifted against the stones, and cringed at the sharp shot of pain in his side. Glancing down, he realized the bandage he’d wrapped around his torso was soaked with blood.

Fucking fabulous. Just what he needed. But there was nothing he could do about it now except wait until morning. Closing his eyes, he tried to rest.

Sleep came fitfully. His side burned, his legs ached, and he felt as if he’d been through a meat grinder, thanks to Malik’s workout. He shivered, wrapped his arms around himself, shifted deeper into the corner and tried to find warmth as the hours ticked by. But even as he drifted between sleep and consciousness, images wafted behind his eyes. Talah’s dark hair blowing in the breeze, her olive skin, her gentle smile. Images that slowly morphed until her eyes were no longer gray but sharp, green gems, her hair a drape of wavy red, her lips not curved in sweet compassion but plump, erotic…tempting.

Lips that moved, speaking to him in a voice not from the past but from the present.

* * *

Crouching in the corner of the cell with the lone candle she’d lit flickering light over the stone walls, Kavin cringed. Sound asleep, the sahad was like dead weight, and just lifting his elbow made her muscles strain.

His eyes were still closed, his head resting against the wall, but his skin was burning hot to the touch. She’d tried to ignore his murmurs, hoping he was simply dreaming, but the longer they’d gone on, making zero sense, the less she could. Especially when she realized he must have given her his blanket sometime in the night.

She didn’t owe him anything. He’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t want her around. But she couldn’t ignore him either. So she’d lit a candle, climbed out of bed, and crossed the floor. And now her stomach was tossing on a sea of unease at the bright red blood staining the bandage against his ribs.

“You’re impossible to fight with, Marid,” she whispered.

His eyes popped open. His body jerked. Then his hand closed over hers against his elbow.

Kavin gasped, tried to pull away. His grip was strong, locking her in place, reminding her of the night he’d held her against the wall. Fear threatened to push in as he stared hard into her eyes, his gaze clouded and unwavering. But instead of being filled with venom—as before—this time, his eyes looked haunted, not those of a killer per se, but of a man who’d seen too much, lived through too much, and was fighting to cope with the fallout.

Silence stretched between them. Her heart raced beneath her breast. He wasn’t a man, and she was foolish to think him anything but the monster she’d come to know. But…as his fingers seared her skin, as his gaze bore into hers, tension and something Kavin hadn’t felt before—some electric and overpowering current—charged the air.

Her pulse picked up speed as she stared into his hard, dark eyes. Her adrenaline soared. Before she could figure out what the odd sensation was, he let go and dropped his head back against the wall with a groan.

Relief spiraled through her—or was that regret? Her head was so jumbled she suddenly didn’t know. Rubbing her hand over the spot he’d just held, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Couldn’t.

“Allah,” she muttered, noticing the sweat beaded his brow, the pale and clammy skin. He wasn’t just injured, he was sick. “You need help.”

“Don’t want help,” he whispered, eyes closed. “’Specially not yours. Just want to be left alone. Alone is…safe.”

Emptiness rippled through Kavin’s chest. An emptiness she’d been fighting since the moment her parents had sold her to Zayd. One that had grown and multiplied exponentially with every second she’d been locked in this cell, wondering—dreading—what would happen next. “Being left alone isn’t safe,” she whispered. “It’s the greatest form of torture there is.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move. And suddenly, fear for her own safety mingled with urgency for his. If he died from infection now, she was all but dead. Jarriah did not get second chances in the test, no matter the circumstances.

She pushed to her feet, bent and slid her arms under his, careful not to touch the wound on his side. “Come on, get up.”

His big hands landed against her shoulders. He rolled his head against the stones. The groan that echoed from his chest told her he still didn’t want her help, but he shifted his feet under himself, regardless.

“Come on, Marid,” she ground out, pulling as hard as she could. “I can’t do this on my own.”

Somehow she got him up, braced his back against the wall, and leaned against him to keep them both upright. He had to weigh twice what she did, and he was burning up with fever. She grunted, pulled, and eventually maneuvered him toward the bed. With a groan, he dropped onto the mattress, flopped over onto his back. Blood trickled down his skin from beneath the thin, red-soaked bandage.

Her stomach rolled again, but she ignored it, instead propped his tree-trunk-like legs up onto the mattress, pulled the blanket out from under him, then draped it across his body. Peeling back the cover near his wound, she dropped to her knees, steeled her courage, then slowly untied the bandage from his torso to get a good look.

His hand snaked out again and wrapped around her wrist with stunning force. And just as it had before, electricity arced in the air between them, sent a thousand vibrations all along her skin, and pulled a gasp from her lips.

Her gaze darted to his and held. To eyes that should chill her to the bone but suddenly didn’t. Because this close, she saw something else lurking in their depths. Something she’d missed before when she’d been too scared to think. The same emptiness that consumed her. A hint of vulnerability she hadn’t known was there.

Her breath quickened. Her skin tingled as if it were coming to life. So many times he could have truly hurt her but hadn’t. Even that first night, he’d let her go. And though he held her tightly and could easily snap her wrist with barely a flick of his hand, she somehow knew he wouldn’t.

Words formed in her mind. Words she didn’t even know if he could hear in his current state, let alone understand. Words she suddenly needed to say. “I-I’m not here to hurt you, sahad. I only want to help.”

“You can’t help me,” he muttered. “No one can. Not anymore.”

His gaze never left hers, and energy vibrated through her entire body under his blinding stare. Energy she felt all the way to her core. In the silence that followed, his ominous words settled in the air around them, reminding her what Hana had told her in the baths.

“Marid mate for a lifetime.” Followed by the news that the death of a warrior’s mate was the only thing that could turn him into a monster.

Was that what he was doing? Battling to avenge his dead mate? Questions she hadn’t thought to ask before circled in her mind. Then mixed and swirled with the image of him, dangerous and magnificent, fighting to the death in the arena.

Her skin grew hot. A low ache gathered in her chest. Though she fought it, compassion spread through her veins, trickled to her belly. Suddenly, he wasn’t the beast the highborns made him out to be. He was nothing more than a slave fighting to stay alive, just like her. Fighting to defy those who wanted to see him dead.

That was what she needed to do, she realized. Purpose rippled through her as their gazes held. A purpose that gave her strength, one she’d been lacking since being brought to Jahannam. Zayd could take her body; he could even take her freedom, but she wouldn’t let him break her spirit. No one could take that from her. Not unless she let them.

“Let me try,” she whispered, wanting—no, needing—to help him for reasons even she couldn’t totally understand.

His eyes searched hers. For truth or lies, she wasn’t sure. But something shifted in the air between them in that moment. Something she felt all the way to her toes.

He slowly released his grip, turned his head away, and closed his eyes. And as her chest thrummed with the weight of what had just passed between them, Kavin swallowed hard and reached for the bandage again.

The cut was deep, the edges puckered and swollen. She didn’t see any signs of pus—which was a good thing—so she recovered it. But her hands were shaking when she pushed to her feet, then pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.

“Allah…” Urgency shifted to panic. She crossed for the door and pounded her fist against the cold steel.

“I know you’re out there,” she hollered at the guards. “If you want the sahad to die on your watch, continue to ignore me.”

Metal scraped metal as the slot in the door was pulled open, and the guard’s grim face filled the hole. “We don’t answer to jarriah.”

“You’ll answer to this one,” Kavin snapped. Fuck the guards. Fuck what Zayd would think when he heard what she’d done. Fuck them all. “The sahad is sick with fever and infection. I need bandages and medical supplies.”

“Why should we care?” the other guard sneered, stepping up to the opening in the door. “One less Marid to worry about.”

“You’ll care because he’s the champion of the arena. And if the highborns find out he died because of your neglect,” she lied, “you’ll be executed. Or better yet, tossed in the arena yourselves.”

Fear flashed in both their eyes, followed by the brutal rush of resentment. But Kavin barely cared. So long as they bought in to her bluff and were motivated to get what she needed, that was all that mattered.

The opening in the door snapped closed, and muffled voices echoed from the corridor, followed by the sharp clomp of footsteps quickly moving away. Drawing a deep breath, Kavin turned back for the bed.

The sahad shivered, so she pulled the blanket up to his chin, tucked it around his shoulders. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. In the dim candlelight, she stared down at his face, which suddenly looked childlike and innocent as he tried to sleep, not harsh and cold as it had before. Her gaze drifted over the dark lashes feathering the soft skin beneath his eyes, to the chiseled cheekbones, the weathered skin, the stubble along his square, strong jaw, then finally to the full, masculine line of his lips.

Lips, she could now imagine, that had once been used for kissing, not doling out harsh words and threats.

He stirred, tried to roll to his side, winced in pain but still didn’t open his eyes. To ease him while they waited, she sat on the side of the bed and brushed damp locks back from his heated skin. “Shh…just rest.”

The muscles around his eyes relaxed as she began humming a song she remembered her mother singing to her when she was little, and he seemed to drift back to sleep. Relief spread through her again as she continued to stroke his hair, then her gaze drifted down his neck to the fire opal at the base of his throat.

The gem was mesmerizing, catching the candlelight and making it dance as if it had a life of its own. Pulling the cover back, she ran her index finger across the smooth stone edged all in gold. Heat gathered beneath her skin, the sensation so startling it cut off her humming mid-song.

Where had he gotten it? Why did the guards allow him to keep something of such value? She knew the highborns all wanted it, had heard whispers in the harem that if a highborn’s sahad killed him, the gem would then belong to them. But so far that hadn’t happened. He’d destroyed every opponent they’d tossed at him.

Another image of him arcing out again and again with his swords in the arena flashed in front of her eyes, the stone as much a part of him as he fought as his hair or eyes or teeth. Was that how he stayed alive? Did the gemstone give him some kind of power?

“Who are you?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. She didn’t expect him to. He was lost in some fever-induced haze, but that was okay. Probably better, actually. Because, based on the way she was now feeling toward him, if he turned that dark and dangerous gaze on her again so soon, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

Hinges creaked, and metal groaned. Kavin looked up sharply just as the door was pulled open and a guard stepped in, a square box in his hand. “This will have to do.” He dropped it at his feet, then moved back. “See to it he does not die.”

He was gone before she could answer, the lock clanking loudly in his wake. Slowly, Kavin moved away from the sahad and crossed the floor, then lifted the box and opened the lid.

Bandages, medicine, ointment for the wound. Relief was a welcome yet disturbing feeling.

He wasn’t going to die. Not tonight, anyway.

Chapter Six

Someone was humming.

Nasir wrestled from a deep and clouded sleep and slowly opened his eyes to blink up at a stone ceiling.

Awareness seeped in. Candlelight illuminated the ceiling above, the rock walls around him, and the dirt floor below. A shiver ran down his back as realization came crashing in. He was in his cell in the pits of Jahannam, lying on the uncomfortable mattress with a blanket pulled up to his chest, darkness surrounding him as always. Except…

Somewhere close, the sweet, gentle notes of a song he didn’t recognize met his ears. The melody pushed the darkness to the wayside, dragged his thoughts from despair and pulled them toward the light. Tipping his head, he looked toward the candle’s flickering flame…and the redheaded female sitting in his corner, wrapping what looked like strips of fabric into a ball.

Something warm rolled through his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Something that nearly stopped his breath.

Her head came up. The humming stopped. She stared at him a long beat but didn’t speak. And in her hypnotizing eyes, he couldn’t read her expression.

“You’re awake,” she finally said.

Weird images passed before him. Her arms around his torso. Her lush, tempting body pressing into his. Her leaning over him, the soft curtain of her hair tickling his cheeks. And concern across her mesmerizing face when she’d swiped a cool cloth over his forehead and whispered, “The worst is over. Rest now.”

She pushed to her feet, smoothed out the black skirt of her dress, looking nervous and unsure and way too damn gorgeous as she took a hesitant step his way. “How do you feel?”

Nasir’s pulse picked up speed, and his skin tingled. How did he feel? Hot. Achy. And oddly…aroused. Especially with the way she was looking at him. But why was she asking? Why would she care?

She moved to the foot of the bed, the candlelight flickering over her cleavage, drawing his gaze, making his skin that much tighter. “You’ve been asleep almost a full day. Your mu’allim was here. He brought herbs to break the fever. It looks like they helped.”

He’d been out a full day? And Malik had been to see him? Confusion swept through Nasir’s hazy mind as he tried to look away from her tantalizing breasts.

He pushed up on his hands, worked to sit upright. The female rushed over. “Here, let me help.”

His adrenaline surged, and he sucked in a breath, knowing he should say no, yet not able to get the words out of his mouth. She set the ball of fabric—no, bandages—on the foot of the bed and gripped his arm in her dainty hands, her skin silky soft against his, her heat and floral scent making him light-headed. Sweat beaded his brow as she helped move him back so his spine was against the walls. And wicked heat flared all through his body at her touch. A touch he wanted to go on feeling. Even knowing he shouldn’t.

Talk, dammit. Get your brain back online.

“What—” His voice was thick, raspy, not his own. He cleared his throat. Tried again. “What happened?”

“Infection,” she said, finally letting go and moving back. Relief and disappointment swept through him all at the same time, confusing him even more. “From the wound in your side. I stitched it closed and bandaged it with what they gave me. But it was really the herbs your mu’allim brought that made the difference.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Fine lines formed between her brows. Sexy lines. Lines he suddenly wanted to kiss from her forehead. “Because you needed them.”

He shook his head. No, she wasn’t following him. And he couldn’t believe where his fucked-up thoughts were heading. “No, why you? I didn’t ask…for a highborn’s help.”

Her mouth snapped closed. And her pretty green eyes went flat. The way they had when he’d told her he wasn’t going to be a pawn in her game.

Except…as he stared at her and his mind turned over images of her tending his wounds, humming to help him relax, brushing the hair back from his face…he had a strange feeling it might not be her game either.

Which…didn’t make any more sense than the reason she was still here now.

“I didn’t want to be responsible for the great champion’s death,” she said in a tone that matched her lackluster eyes.

Yeah, but she wouldn’t have been. She hadn’t cut him. He’d gotten that injury in the training ring.

He rubbed his suddenly throbbing forehead. Man, his mind was still in a fucking fog, and everything seemed off.

“There’s water if you want it,” she said in a softer tone. “On the table next to the bed.”

The bed he’d given her. He looked down at his legs, covered by the blanket he’d tossed over her the night before—hell, he wasn’t sure which night now—then to the table where a tin cup sat.

A strange buzz started in his ears, seemed to spread to his chest. Why did she care if he was thirsty or not? Why did she care if he lived or died? He’d all but tried to kill her, then belittled her when he’d found her in his cell again, making it more than clear what he thought of her. What could have possibly compelled her to stitch his wound and tend him in illness?

Because that was what she’d done, he realized as memories of her whispered reassurances and silky fingers skimming his skin spiraled in and clamped on tight. She’d not only treated him, she’d sat beside him, kept him warm…comforted him with her touch and voice and presence.

A Ghul.

A highborn Ghul.

A really sexy, way-more-enticing-than-she-should-be highborn Ghul.

Nerves kicked up in his chest, sent his heart rate pounding. He tried to make sense of her actions. Couldn’t. Tried to think logically. Came up empty.

Nothing seemed right. Everything was wrong. And yet…somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice whispered, Yes. Remember who you are, Nasir.

His gaze slowly swung back to her, and before he could stop himself, he asked, “Why—why did you stay?”

She bit into her bottom lip, a move that was so damn sexy, blood rushed to his groin. But she didn’t immediately answer as her gaze drifted to his feet, covered by the blanket. And reflexively, his toes tingled as if she were seeing them. Touching them. Caressing them with those fingers he remembered sliding across his skin last night.

“I—”

The door creaked open before she could answer. Her head turned that way, soft curls falling over her shoulder as she moved, drawing his attention to the creamy skin of her collarbone, then lower to the soft swell of her breasts. His cock grew hard beneath the blanket, and disappointment whipped through his veins when the guard entered, interrupting them, because he’d sensed she was about to tell him something important. Something he needed to hear. Something that would change things between them forever.

The guard moved to the side. Nasir looked over as his mu’allim stepped into the room.

Malik wore his traditional leather breastplate that fit his sculpted muscles, his hands clasped behind his back, his shaved head reflecting the dim candlelight. “You look better.”

Nasir ground his teeth against the dull pain in his side and pushed up higher in the bed, trying not to look like such a pussy. Trying to get the raging libido that seemed to come out of nowhere under control. “How long was I out?”

“About thirty-six hours. You should have alerted the guards that the wound was deeper than originally thought. It won’t serve you to die in here.” Before Nasir could ask what he meant by that, Malik nodded toward the highborn and added, “You have the jarriah’s quick thinking to thank for your speedy recovery. By the time I came for you yesterday and realized the severity of your wound, it would have been too late.”

Jarriah. Nasir looked back toward the female, standing at the foot of his bed, suddenly studying the floor with great interest while twisting her hands together in front of her. The male who’d brought her to see him that first day had called her jarriah. The word was foreign to him—of Ghul origin—but something in his gut told him to find out what it meant. That it mattered. That it was the key to what seemed so off about her.

Her…

He didn’t even know her name. In all the time they’d been locked up together, he hadn’t asked. Hadn’t thought to ask, because he hadn’t wanted to see her as anything other than his enemy. Now he couldn’t stop wondering if that was true. Now he wanted to know everything about her—who she was, where she came from, and most of all, why she’d saved his life.

Not all Ghuls are evil.

“Get up,” Malik said, reaching for the cover and pulling it back. “Rest is over. You need food, then we have work to do.” He wrapped his hand around Nasir’s bicep and helped haul him to his feet.

Malik handed him off to the guards, who, thankfully, were more gentle than normal. His head swam, but he was able to stand without crumbling to the floor. At his back, Malik said, “The servant is waiting outside to check you, jarriah.”

“There’s no reason for that, mu’allim,” she replied in a quiet voice. “Nothing has…changed.”

“Nevertheless, she must do as she’s been instructed.” His voice softened. “I’ll be back to speak with you later.”

“Thank you, mu’allim,” she replied.

Check her? More questions swirled in Nasir’s mind as the guards herded him toward the door. Light burned his eyes as he stepped out into the corridor, but he caught sight of the slim brunette wearing the traditional gray servant garb with the slave band tattooed across her right bicep.

The girl didn’t make eye contact with Nasir, just nodded once to Malik, then disappeared into the cell, but whatever was said inside that room was too quiet to be heard. And as the guards ushered him down the hall, Nasir couldn’t stop wondering what was really happening.

He was bathed, his wound tended and re-bandaged, then he was taken to the dining hall, which was empty, as always. From the courtyard beyond the high windows that let in only light and the blue of the sky, the crack of training swords slapping against each other echoed, telling him the rest of the sahads were being put through a grueling workout in the baking heat of the sun.

A ripple of contempt washed through him. As champion, he never trained with the others—a luxury, he was told. But he knew the truth. His isolation was just one more way the Ghuls could punish him for being Marid. One more way they tried to break him. They were smarter than he’d given them credit. Torture was one thing, but loneliness…

“Being left alone isn’t safe. It’s the greatest form of torture there is.”

His pulse picked up speed. The fork stopped halfway to his mouth. He wasn’t sure when the female in his cell had said those words, but he knew they’d come from her. He could hear them now, in her sweet, tempting voice, as surely as he could suddenly hear the pounding of his own heart.

“Rise, sahad.”

Nasir looked toward the doorway where Malik stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his mouth set in a grim line. Behind him, two guards waited.

“I want you in the training ring in five minutes.”

Malik stepped out; the guards moved in. As Nasir lowered his fork and rose from the empty table, his mind spun with images, words, questions he couldn’t answer. If the female in his cell was highborn, she wouldn’t know about torture. She wouldn’t know loneliness. She wouldn’t have cared for him in any illness. And she definitely wouldn’t be lingering in his dank, depressing cell right this moment.

“He’s not my mate…” “I was sent to you…” “Let me help you…”

His pulse picked up speed. His heart raced beneath his ribs as he walked his tray across the room and set it on the high counter that adjoined the kitchen, then turned back toward the guards. There was only one answer that made sense.

She wasn’t highborn.

The guards led him to the indoor training ring, smaller than the arena but with enough room to spar. His legs ached, and he was weak from the infection, but as he stepped into the center of the arena and the guard to the left handed him a wooden sword, he didn’t care. All he cared about was learning the truth.

“Leave us,” Malik said to the guards. They exchanged confused glances—they were always on hand to watch Nasir, even during training, because a Marid could never be trusted—but when Malik shot them a try-to-defy-me look, they both shrugged and exited, the heavy door clanging closed behind them.

Malik clasped his hands behind his back, the fingers of his right hand closed tightly around the hilt of his sword. “Do you feel rested, sahad?”

“Yes,” Nasir lied, knowing not to show weakness. In the arena, weakness meant death. In the training ring, it translated to punishment. He grasped his sword tighter as Malik circled around behind him. His mu’allim was legendary for attacking when least expected, and, considering how scattered Nasir felt right now, he needed to stay on his toes.

“Honesty between teacher and pupil is the only bond we have, sahad.”

Shit, Malik knew he was lying. Nasir tensed.

“However,” Malik went on, moving around Nasir’s right and coming back to stand before him, “considering the circumstances, I’m willing to overlook it. Just this once. I sense your question. Ask it.”

Nasir looked up sharply. A sahad was never supposed to question his mu’allim, in anything. But he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity, because he might not get it again. “The female in my cell. You called her jarriah. It’s not a word I know.”

“No,” Malik said, circling once again behind Nasir. “Nor should you. It is not of our language. It is a Ghul word.”

Our language? Nasir’s brow dropped low, and more questions swam in his mind, but before he could ask them, a shot of understanding rippled through him, allowing him to see clearly, as if a veil had just been lifted. When Malik moved in front of him once more, Nasir’s eyes opened wide. “Holy Allah… You’re—”

The curtain dropped swiftly, blocking Nasir’s senses. Malik stared hard into his eyes. “I am your mu’allim.”

No, he was more. The air left Nasir’s lungs on a whoosh. Malik was Marid, just like him.

“Not all your djinn powers are blocked, sahad,” Malik said in a low voice. “Only the ones they fear you will use against them. You’ve been so focused on death and killing that you’ve overlooked what is at your fingertips.”

What did that mean? “But how did you—”

Malik resumed his circle. “I was once a sahad like you. I developed the powers I was left with. And I learned to block certain things from those around me.”

His heritage. He’d blocked who he was so the Ghuls he served didn’t know he was Marid. Nasir remembered stories when he’d first arrived, about the mu’allim who trained the sahads. He’d been here for ages—no one knew quite how long—had started as a fighter but had eventually worked up to his elevated status of mu’allim. Was it possible the current highborns controlling the city didn’t know Malik was Marid?

“To answer your question,” Malik went on, “jarriah is a Ghul word which means concubine.”

All his questions about Malik came to a screeching halt. The female in his cell was a pleasure slave? He knew Ghuls kept them—hell, his brother Tariq had been imprisoned as one—but the thought the redhead was one made even less sense than the idea Malik was Marid. “How…? Why...?” He shook his head to try to clear it. Didn’t work. “But…she doesn’t bear the slave band.”

“No.” Malik said. “Because she’s yet to complete her test.”

“What test?”

Malik stopped in front of him. “Females newly turned of age come into the harem untouched. Before being granted full access to their masters’ luxuries, they have to prove their worth. Each is sent to the pits for a night. If she survives, she goes back to the harem remembering there are much worse things in this life than serving the pleasures of one or many highborns. If she does not survive the encounter…well, then she’s deemed unworthy, and her body is disposed of without the ritual burial.”

Bile rushed up Nasir’s throat. Even Ghuls had very finite burial ceremonies to ensure a djinn soul crossed to the afterlife. To be denied that rite—in any tribe—was a punishment reserved only for the worst of society. But the knowledge her life had so little value was quickly blanketed when he realized just what his part was in this whole sick scenario.

He swallowed hard. “She was sent to me to…”

“Yes. For her test. But you’ve yet to cooperate. Which is why she still remains.”

Cooperate. A civilized way of saying he’d yet to rape her. Sickness swirled in Nasir’s stomach as he stared down at the sand beneath his feet. He’d known highborns were malicious, but this…to torture one of their own in such a way by casting her into the pits with a sahad who hadn’t touched or smelled or tasted a female in months simply to terrorize her into submitting…

“Why me?”

“That’s a question only a highborn can answer,” Malik said as he continued pacing. “To be honest, as champion, I’m surprised you haven’t been used before this. The question isn’t why, but what are you going to do about it?”

What was he going to do? Malik sounded as if he were asking what Nasir was going to do about a broken sword. They were talking about a person, for shit’s sake… A fellow djinn, regardless of her race.

He swiped a hand across his suddenly sweaty brow. What was he going to do? Holy hell, he wasn’t going to rape her, that was for damn sure. He had no intention of doing anything the highborns wanted him to do. If they thought he was defiant because he stayed alive, then they hadn’t seen anything yet. There was no way he was touching that poor girl.

“A jarriah gets only one test,” Malik said. “They will not give her to another. If you’re thinking you won’t comply in an attempt to snub the highborns, then I must tell you, it won’t work.”

Fuck them. There had to be a solution to this nightmare. Nasir’s skin grew tight as his mind spun. “How long?”

Malik came around his right side again then stopped and regarded him with steely eyes. “She’s been given five days to complete her test. Two have already passed.”

That sickness swirled and circled in his stomach. “And on the fifth? If I don’t…comply? What happens then?”

“You mean if you don’t use her before the allotted time is up?” Malik tipped his head. “Then she will be executed.”

Chapter Seven

Kavin looked up sharply as the cell door opened, then pushed to her feet as Malik stepped into the room.

“Mu’allim,” she said, bowing her head. Light from the corridor spread over his muscular body, highlighting his brown skin and warrior clothing. Even though he was technically a slave and bore the marking, he was of a higher class than her. Everyone was of a higher class than her, even the guards.

She pushed that depressing thought away as he scanned the room and asked, “The servant is gone?”

“Yes, mu’allim.”

He nodded, then gestured with his hand. “Come.”

Surprise registered. Were they letting her go? Or had Zayd finally decided she was a failure and was having her executed before waiting the allotted five days?

“Mu’allim?” she asked hesitantly, her pulse suddenly racing with a mixture of horror and sickness.

Malik’s face softened, and he motioned again. “It’s all right, jarriah. We’re just moving you to a different cell.”

Hesitantly, she stepped forward, then faltered at what that meant. “But I…I’m not supposed to go with a different sahad.” If she did, it was as clear as declaring failure. And if Zayd found out…

“No, you misunderstand, jarriah. We’re moving you both to a new cell. One that is a little…cleaner…because of the champion’s infection. He’ll join you later.”

Kavin’s brow furrowed as she moved into the brightly lit corridor and blinked against the light. That made sense. Sort of. They couldn’t very well let the great champion die of mistreatment. If they did, the guards, even Malik, would be in serious trouble with the highborns. Though she knew it would thrill them to see the champion die, they wanted it to happen in the ring, where they could wager against him and turn a profit from his death. “Y-yes, mu’allim.”

She followed Malik down the corridor, around several corners, into a section of the dungeons she didn’t recognize. No dripping water echoed here or ran along the floor. The doors were wood, not steel, and light filtered in from windows spaced high along the walls.

Malik stopped in front of a thick wood door, pulled out a heavy key ring, and turned the lock. The hinges groaned as he pushed the door open, then stepped aside so Kavin could pass.

She drew in a sharp breath when she moved inside the cell. Only…the word cell didn’t seem to fit. The room was twice as big as the one she’d been in. Yes, there were bars on the high windows along the far wall, but there was light. Blessed sunshine reflected off the white walls, gave the room a warm, airy feeling. To the left, a rectangular tiled bath already filled with water was sunk into the cement floor. To the right, a double bed with real pillows and more than one blanket sat pushed up against the wall. And on the bedside table, several candles of differing heights and thickness waited for nightfall to be lit.

It wasn’t luxurious by any means. Compared to her rooms in the harem, this one was sparse and empty. But considering she’d just spent the past two days in the dark and cold, the light, the promise of a real bath, and the thought of sleeping on a pillow seemed like heaven.

Unable to keep the tears from her eyes, she turned toward Malik. Wanted to give him a hug but knew better. “Thank you.”

He nodded, then motioned toward one of the guards who’d followed them down the corridor. “Bring the jarriah fresh towels and bathing supplies.”

The guard’s disapproving gaze flashed from Malik to her, but he turned for the hall without questioning and disappeared.

Malik looked back at her. “Rest and refresh. You deserve as much after your service to the champion. The sahad will be brought to you after his training is complete.”

Kavin blushed at his words, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t react. He bowed once more, then stopped at the door. To the remaining guard, he said, “Bring her whatever she asks for.”

The heavy door clanged shut, leaving Kavin standing alone in the middle of the room. And though her pulse raced at the thought of the sahad being returned to her, this time it wasn’t entirely from fear. Excitement rippled through her veins as well. Excitement at seeing him again, at talking with him—she’d liked talking with him—at ignoring what Zayd wanted her to do and just being herself.

If she only had a few more days left, there were worse places to spend them. She was determined to make the most of what little time she had.

She moved toward the bath, pulled her skirt up, and dipped her toe in the water. Then smiled because the liquid was warm. She could already imagine it sliding over her body, caressing her tired muscles, and reinvigorating her with life.

The door clanged open, causing Kavin to jump. The guard who’d gone for towels dropped supplies on the floor at her feet. “Enjoy your bath, jarriah.”

The way he snarled the last word sent a chill down her spine, but he left before she could respond. And as the key turned in the lock, she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Yeah, there were a lot worse ways to spend her last few days. If the sahad didn’t want her, well, at least the fact she was still with him meant no one else could touch her either.

She moved the supplies to the edge of the tub, then tugged off her dress, dropped it on the cement floor and stepped down into the bath. A groan slipped from her lips as she lowered herself into the water and the warmth cradled her sore muscles and battered skin.

Most djinn healed quickly, and she was no exception. The lash marks across her breasts and stomach from Zayd’s temper tantrum were nearly healed, and they didn’t sting much, but she didn’t forget they were there, or how she’d gotten them.

Reaching for the bath salts the guard had brought in, she sprinkled some into the water, then leaned back against the edge of the tub and let her legs float while her mind drifted. Images of the champion filled her mind. His powerful muscles flexing as he fought. The lines of his hard body pressing into hers as she’d hauled him to the bed in his cell last night. The look in his eyes when he’d gripped her wrist. Followed by the pain she saw lingering there. Pain she knew all too well.

Her heart bumped, a reaction she knew could do more damage to her than anything Zayd had planned. She was romanticizing him now, this sahad who was supposed to rape her. And yet, he hadn’t. He wouldn’t. She was as sure of that as she was the fact she’d soon be executed. But…she was no longer afraid of him. She was curious. The only thing she wanted before she died was to know more about him.

The cell door clanged open again, and her eyes flew open in surprise, her legs dropping down to the bottom of the pool in an attempt to hide her nakedness. But instead of the champion, what stared at her was the same guard who’d dropped her bathing supplies against the floor and sneered her way.

A menacing heat rolled through his eyes. One that shot Kavin’s anxiety through the stratosphere. She inched back in the tub, recognizing the predatory look in his eyes. The malice. The intent.

The door slammed closed behind him. And a depraved grin spread across his dark face. “All alone. And naked.” He crept closer as his eyes raked her body. “If the sahad won’t fuck you, it’s time someone else did, don’t you think?” His beady eyes narrowed as he reached for the buckle at his waist. “You can thank me later.”

Oh, shit.

Terror whipped through Kavin’s entire body. She glanced right and left, searching for anything to use as a weapon. The guard wasn’t armed, but she knew he could easily overpower her. And would.

No, no, no. Not like this. If it was anyone other than the sahad, she’d be executed on the spot. She wouldn’t even have these last few precious days.

He moved closer as he pulled his belt through the loops and dropped it on the floor with a clank. Her legs tensed, her adrenaline pulsed. Her only hope was to get across the room, to maybe use the candles as a weapon…or something from the bed? A spring…anything?

Shit. Oh, shit.

If she screamed, anyone walking by would just assume the sahad was finally giving her what she’d been sent here for. The guard slinked around the far side of the tub, pulling off his armor as he moved until he was dressed in just the black pants and thin shirt he’d worn underneath. And as Kavin watched with wide eyes, her hand inched out along the edge of the bath, her fingers wrapping around the jar of bath salts.

Her heart raced while she waited for him to move closer still. He toed off his shoes, his eyes never leaving her, then he stepped down into the pool, obviously not even caring about his pants. “Come here, jarriah.”

Kavin breathed hard. Waited. And just before he reached her, she hurled the contents of the jar into his eyes.

He swore, his hands rushed to his face, and a menacing roar erupted from him. She didn’t wait to see what he’d do next. She rushed through the water to the other end of the pool and tore across the floor toward the bed.

“You bitch!”

She scrambled over the bed, then bent down and grabbed the frame, flinging the bed up and over onto its side as a barrier. Metal clanged against the cement floor. The guard found his footing, pushed his legs through the water. “You’ll pay, whore. I was going to go easy on you, but not now.”

Kavin’s adrenaline spiked. She grabbed a candle from the table beside her, then pulled her arm back and hurled it toward him as hard as she could. It hit him in the forehead. His head snapped back, and his feet faltered. He swore again. Kavin reached for another candle.

But before she could grasp it, he was over the bed, his hand tightening over her wrist, the other closing around her throat. “Fucking bitch!”

Her eyes flew wide. He slammed her back against the cement wall. Pain spiraled out from her skull, radiated through her body. Air choked in her lungs while he squeezed. The candle fell from her hand.

He released her wrist. Reached for the button on his pants. Spots fired off behind Kavin’s eyes as he continued to squeeze her throat, cutting off her air. She lifted her leg, tried to knee him in the groin, but he moved out of her way. Tears rushed to her eyes. She swung out with her arms, tried to pry his hand free, but he was too strong. Gasping, she struck his face, clawed at his eyes. But nothing stopped him.

No, no, no. Not like this…

His pants dropped. He pushed her legs wide. A sob caught in her throat as her vision came and went.

Somewhere close, metal clanged. Followed by a voice. A male, familiar voice. “You son of a bitch.”

The pressure around her neck released. His body was pulled from hers. Sucking in air, Kavin dropped to the floor, her hands rushing to her throat, her body convulsing as she tried to breathe.

Slowly, she became aware of a struggle in front of her. Looking up, she watched in wonder and surprise as the champion towered over the guard, clutching his shirt in one hand, slamming his fist into the guard’s jaw again and again and again. Chest heaving, he finally stopped and dropped the guard to the ground, but there was no missing the hatred in his eyes as he stared down at the bloody mess at his feet. “If you touch her…if you so much as look at her again, I will fucking kill you. I don’t care what they do to me. I’ll find a way to rip your miserable throat out.”

The guard’s eyes were filled with stark, raving fear as he scrambled back, pulling up his pants in the process. Voices echoed from the hall, and Kavin looked that way just as another guard and the champion’s mu’allim moved into the cell.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Malik demanded.

The sahad didn’t answer, instead tore a blanket off the bed and turned toward Kavin, draping it over her naked body.

His eyes met hers briefly. Hard, cold, enraged eyes. But lurking inside them, she saw what she’d seen earlier. Compassion. Strength. Resolve.

Her breath caught.

He moved in front of her, putting himself between her and the others. “The guard tripped.”

The room spun as Kavin looked from the sahad to Malik and back again. She knew what he was doing. If he was found guilty of attacking a guard, he could be punished, or worse, executed for the crime.

Malik glanced at the overturned bed, then to the guard’s bloody face and finally to his armor, belt, and shoes strewn across the floor. His gaze snapped back to the guard, and in his eyes, malice burned hot and bright. Malice that made Kavin swallow hard. “Is this true?”

The guard opened his bloody mouth to answer, but a low growl from the sahad drew his attention. Fear rushed back into his eyes as he stared at the champion. After several long beats, he swallowed hard and slowly nodded. “Y-yeah. I tripped.”

Malik looked toward Kavin for confirmation. Unable to bear his gaze, she shivered and glanced down, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. To the guard behind him, Malik barked, “Gather his gear. And take him to the infirmary.”

The second guard’s eyes were wide with disbelief, but he did as Malik instructed. As the two shuffled out of the room, Malik said in a softer voice, “Jarriah, are you okay?”

Shame burned hot through Kavin’s veins. Shame and anger that she was here, that others had to see her like this, that she was at the mercy of all these males. She nodded, unable to muster up the words.

Silence echoed through the room, then Malik’s shoes sounded, followed by the snap of the cell door closing.

Relief pulsed through Kavin as she fought back the tears suddenly burning behind her eyes. She’d lived. She hadn’t been raped by that guard. But her chest rose and fell with quick breaths as if she were still in the midst of the attack. Why was she about to lose it now?

Metal groaned as the sahad tipped the bed back onto its legs, but Kavin barely cared. Her entire body shook, sending a chill over her skin and a sob rushing up her throat.

“It’s over now.” The sahad’s voice was soft. Close. Comforting. And then his arms were around her. Lifting her from the floor, cradling her gently against him, carrying her toward the bed.

She didn’t fight him. Didn’t even think to. All she could do was focus on breathing. On slowing her pulse. She sank onto his lap as he sat, and when he tugged her face down to rest in the hollow between his throat and shoulder and rubbed his hand up and down her back and hip and leg, she let him.

“Shh…you’re okay now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

He’d saved her. The thought revolved in her mind as her adrenaline rushed out on a wave. Not only that, but he could have been executed for doing so. The reality of that stole her breath all over again.

His body was warm against hers. Warm and big and a thousand times stronger than that guard’s, but she felt safe with him. Safer than she had with anyone else…ever. And she couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d just done.

Slowly, she swiped at her eyes, then finally lifted her head to look up. His square jaw was covered in a thin layer of scruff, his skin was the color of caramel, his eyes a rich ebony. And his hair, black as night and hanging almost to his shoulders, looked so soft she had the sudden urge to run her fingers through the thick locks. “Wh-what is your name?”

The words were out before she could stop them. Before she could think to stop them. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t let go, didn’t pull away, didn’t stop his hand running across her back, sending delicious shivers through her entire body.

“Nasir.” His lips—his very masculine lips—drew her attention, made her wonder what they felt like. What they tasted like.

“Helper,” she whispered, recognizing the meaning. “Your name is very much appreciated today.”

“I’m no hero, jar—” His words cut off abruptly as his brow dropped low. “I don’t want to call you that. What is your name?”

“Kavin,” she answered, relieved he didn’t want to use that word. Relieved she didn’t have to hear it.

“Isn’t that usually a boy’s name?”

“My father wanted a son.” He’d gotten her instead. Then had easily gotten rid of her.

She pushed that unwelcome thought aside as his gaze ran over her features. And her stomach tightened while she wondered what he saw.

Did he see a pleasure slave? A Ghul? Or did he see simply a female in a horrific situation?

“Fitting too,” he finally said in a quiet voice. “It means handsome. Though I think in this case, I’d use beautiful instead.”

Warmth bloomed in her belly. Warmth and something else…a tingling that started in her chest, moved up to encircle her breasts and made them ache, then spread slowly down to settle like a heavy weight between her legs.

Need—a need she’d never experienced before—rushed through her body, calling to her in a way that left her breathless. She wanted to run her hand over his hard jaw, to brush her thumb across his lips. To know what he felt like—just once. Was afraid of what he’d do if she tried. “Th-thank you. For what you did.”

“I’d have killed him if I could.”

She should be scared—that cold look she recognized from the ring was back in his eyes—but she wasn’t. After everything she’d seen these last few days, she knew he wasn’t the monster the highborns made him out to be. He wasn’t even close. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because then I’d be thrown in isolation, or worse. And I wouldn’t be able to protect you. The same way you protected me last night.”

Oh…

That warmth shifted to something hot and insistent. She pressed her knees together to stop the ache building to explosive levels between her thighs. And this time, when the urge to touch him hit, she lifted her hand without thinking. The blanket fell to her waist, but she didn’t stop it. The need to feel his skin beneath her hands was too strong.

He tensed when her fingertips brushed his jaw. Realizing what she’d done, she pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry. His blood…you had a smudge.”

His hand captured hers before she could lower it, but there was no pain in his grip. Only a tingling she felt all the way to her core. “Don’t…stop. I…like your hands.”

Her pulse picked up speed. Was he saying…?

His eyes darkened, and as she watched desire bring a flush to his skin, her heart pounded hard. He placed her hand against his cheek again. Tingling sensations rushed through her flesh. And when his gaze dropped to her breast, visible with the blanket open at her waist, her nipples tightened until another wicked shot of heat arced all through her pelvis.

“I’d like to help you, Kavin,” he said in a gruff voice. “To thank you for helping me.”

He was asking permission. Never, not in a million years, had she imagined this was how it would happen.

Her entire body tightened at the erotic implication of his words. At what she imagined him doing to “thank” her. At what he would ask of her when that “thanking” was done. But there was no fear. No revulsion. Only…excitement. An excitement that told her this was right.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His eyes grew even darker. Beneath her, the muscles in his legs tightened as his arms closed around her back.

She wasn’t going to die. As he lifted her from the bed and carried her toward the pool she’d just been in, that realization settled in. Followed by the chilling reality that when this was over, she’d be sent back Zayd. And the sahad who’d saved her in more ways than one would forever be a memory.

Chapter Eight

Nasir wasn’t sure what he was doing. Certainly not anything he’d planned. But seeing that guard attacking the female…Kavin…it had unleashed something inside him. Something he thought had died long ago.

Heat pulsed through his groin as he lowered her to her feet. She clutched the blanket around her while he tugged off his sandals, then reached for a towel from the edge of the bath. Holding it up to shield her body, he waited while she dropped the blanket at her feet, then tucked the towel around her breasts.

Her eyes were wide and curious while he moved down into the warm water, still wearing his pants, and held a hand out for her.

She hesitated, then finally relaxed when she realized he wasn’t insisting she lose the towel. Slowly, she stepped down into the bath, the cloth hitting high against her legs, drawing his attention to the toned, creamy flesh of her thighs. Making him hard with just a look.

If ever there was a time when a female was more vulnerable, he couldn’t imagine it. Her fear was long gone. Her gratitude for what he’d done so palpable, he sensed right now she’d let him do anything to her that he wanted. But he didn’t want to be like her highborn. Didn’t want her to look upon him as she had that guard. What he wanted—for reasons even he didn’t understand at the moment—was to see her tempting lips turn up in a smile. To learn more about who she was and where she’d come from. To—for a moment—find a peace he’d been lacking for way too long.

She lowered herself into the water and sat on the seat that ran around the inside of the bath. Her gaze strayed to the bandage on his side. “What about your wound?”

“It’ll be fine.” He clenched his teeth as he eased down into the water, ignoring the burn in his side, then reached for a washcloth from the edge of the bath. After wetting the corner, he swiped the dirt and blood from her face. Blood, he was thankful to see, that wasn’t hers. “I think that guard will think twice about touching you again.”

“Thanks to you.”

His gaze skipped from her cheek to her eyes. Soft, hypnotic eyes, as green as the foam that rolled along the shores of his homeland. Reaching for her hand, he held her fingers up so she could see the bloody nails where she’d clawed at the guard’s eyes. “No, Kavin, thanks to you. If you want, I can show you just where to strike to protect yourself from another attack.”

“You can?”

One corner of his mouth curled at her surprised expression. “If you know where weakness lies, you can take down anyone, even someone twice your size.”

“I think…I’d like that. Yes,” she said more confidently. “I would.”

A shadow passed over her eyes, one that made him wonder if she was thinking about the highborns who’d enslaved her. Or of the djinn who would touch her and use her for their own perverse pleasure once she was finally free of the dungeons.

He tamped down the anger that thought conjured as he washed her hand, gently rubbing soap over her nails, removing any sign of that guard’s touch, then moved to her arms. In the silence between them, he was aware of every breath she took, of the way she watched him, of the scent of her skin—lavender and honey—so intoxicating he was amazed he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Where did you get that?”

“What?”

“This necklace.” She leaned forward and ran her fingertips over the fire opal at the base of his throat. And as if she’d touched him, warmth spread beneath the gemstone and into his chest, then lower, flooding his belly and groin.

He sucked in a surprised breath and looked down. She was studying the gem, not him, continuously rubbing her fingers over the opal as if it alone held her focus. But the contact made his entire body twitch and tingle with the need to feel her hands on his bare skin. And suddenly, he wanted her attention off the opal and directed only on him.

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.

“I’m bound to it.” Was that his voice? It didn’t sound like him. It was deep, gravelly, aroused. He cleared his throat, tried to kill the lust now simmering hot inside. Couldn’t.

“How?”

Holy Allah, this close, when she tipped those eyes up, he realized just how mesmerizing they really were. Like miniature swirling galaxies, alive with light and life. A light he’d gone so long without.

“I was captured by a sorceress who bound me to the opal.”

“A sorceress?”

He nodded, not entirely sure why he was telling her the truth, needing to share it for unknown reasons at the same time. “One who commands an army of Ghuls.”

“Zoraida?” she asked in surprise.

“You know of her?”

Eyes wide with wonder darted back to the opal. But she didn’t touch it again. And his pulse beat hard, waiting. Wanting…

“I’ve heard stories. About her power over those in the Wastelands.”

“Where are you from?”

“The Northern Rim. My parents were…are”—she corrected—“farmers. They live in a small village. As children, we were taught to be on the lookout for Zoraida or any from her army.”

“And you’ve never seen her?”

“No. The only outsiders we ever encountered were…”

Her words trailed off, and a bleak look filled her soft eyes as she focused on the waterline at his bare chest.

Highborns. She didn’t need to say the word for him to understand. “How did you end up in Jahannam?”

She sighed, a heavy sound he felt in the bottom of his own chest. “Zayd—the highborn who brought me to you that first day—came through our village. I was selling vegetables in town with my younger sister. As soon as I recognized him for what he was, I knew we needed to leave. My sister and I rushed home. But he was already waiting.”

Of course he would have been. Nasir had noticed the way the highborn had eyed her in his cell. A predatory look of ownership. The prick had seen Kavin for what she was—beautiful, young, and innocent—and pounced.

“My powers weren’t very strong then,” she went on. “I’d only just learned to teleport, wasn’t very good at it, and my younger sister had yet to come into her gifts. If I’d been thinking, I’d have taken her somewhere else, but I was afraid. And I thought we’d be safe at home.”

“What happened then?”

Kavin continued to study his chest. “My parents spoke with him in hushed whispers. He kept looking at my sister, and I was afraid he was there for her. She was only a child. And then my father announced that I would be leaving with Zayd.”

A trick. The highborn had pretended to be interested in the child to get Kavin’s parents to offer her instead. The entire thing singed a new path of anger through Nasir’s stomach. That a parent could so easily give up one of his own… That the highborns in this land had the right to take anything they wanted…even a person…

“My mother told me I had to go willingly. That if I didn’t, they’d take my sister too. And she assured me I’d be safe. So I went. Even looked at it like it was an exciting adventure. Zayd was…pleasant, at the start. And the city was so different from what I’d known. But then...then he brought me here.” She sighed again and lifted her arm from the water, looking around the barren room. “To all of this. I don’t even know if they miss me.”

Pain radiated from her body as she lowered her hand into the water. A pain that rivaled his own. She’d been enslaved just as he had been. But in her case, it had been done by those who were supposed to protect and love her. Something that was a thousand times worse than what he’d been through.

“Zoraida captured my older brother, Tariq,” he said before he could stop himself. Before he even thought to try. “As heir to the Marid throne, we were frantic to find him.”

“Heir? Then that means you’re—”

“Was. Here, I’m nothing more than a slave. No different from you.”

Her gaze searched his, soft, so full of emotion, the hard, protective barrier he’d built around himself slowly started to crumble. “Do the highborns know? About your lineage?”

“I don’t think so. If they do, they’ve never said. But then, Zoraida banished me here out of anger, so I’m not sure how much she communicated to them.”

“How?” she whispered.

“Tariq had been missing for more than five years. We didn’t know if he was alive or dead. When we got word her army was ravaging the Wastelands, I went in the hope I could learn something about his status. I did, all right. Too much.”

To keep the anger at bay, he went back to cleaning her arms, and noticed, as they’d talked, that her towel had loosened until the wet cloth was barely covering her breasts. His pulse picked up speed, and that arousal he’d felt before came back swift and strong. “She’d bound Tariq to a fire opal, just like this one, and was sending him to the human realm to corrupt the souls of mortal women. For all the shit her army is doing, Zoraida needs those souls to fuel her immortality. She’d sentenced him as a pleasure slave.”

“Like me,” Kavin said softly.

He didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think about Kavin being subjected to the same things Tariq had been. Forcing the unwanted images aside, he rubbed the cloth down her arm, swiping away blood and grime, bringing back the pink hue of her skin that was so damn alluring. “She knew my brother and I would search for Tariq. He was refusing to do her bidding any longer, so she set a trap.”

“For you?”

“And our younger brother, Ashur. The bond between brothers in our tribe is strong. She threatened our lives if Tariq didn’t do what she wanted. And with all three heirs to the Kingdom of Gannah under her control? She knew it wouldn’t be long until her army was strong enough to challenge our tribe once and for all.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Her sympathy touched him in a way her gentleness hadn’t before. He brushed his fingers up her arm, ran the washcloth across her collarbone, and his stomach tightened all over again at the way she drew in a breath and seemed to lift into his touch.

“I don’t know what happened to Tariq,” he said, trying hard not to look at the towel, now just barely covering her nipples. Hard, pert nipples, the tips of which he could see through the wet cloth whether he tried to or not. The tips of which he suddenly wanted to draw into his mouth again and again. “Something happened between them—I’m not sure what—but she became enraged and banished me to the pits in retaliation. I don’t know what happened to Tariq or Ashur.”

She leaned forward to run her fingers over the opal once more. A touch that this time sent ripples all through his groin and vibrations straight into his cock. “And this?”

He swallowed hard. Allah, but he wanted this female. He didn’t even care that she was Ghul and he was Marid and that they were trapped together in this cell. He wanted to lose himself inside her and forget about sorceresses and wars and the arena that had become his one and only solace. “It means I’m still bound to her.”

“So if you were to ever get free of these pits—”

“She could call me back at any moment.”

Her eyes lifted to his. Eyes he wondered if he could see forever in if he looked hard enough.

“It seems we’re both trapped in a prison,” she said softly, “even outside these walls.”

“It seems we are.”

Her gaze slid back to the opal, but this close, all he could see and feel and smell was her. Her chest rose and fell with her shallow breaths, and when water rippled near the tips of her breasts—her bare breasts—he realized the towel had slipped to her waist, and that she hadn’t stopped it.

“What would you do if you only had a few days left, Nasir?”

Spend them with you. The thought came out of nowhere, slammed into him, and stole his breath. Beneath the water, his dick tightened to painful levels. “I would make them matter.”

Dark lashes fluttered against her creamy skin as she looked up. “I would too.”

A thousand words hovered between them. Questions and answers he didn’t want to voice. But only one thing registered. Only one thing mattered.

He eased forward until his chest brushed the tips of her bare, enticing breasts. Lust, white-hot and overwhelming, arced between them, encouraged him. She didn’t ease away. Instead, her hands landed gently on his biceps, and her fingernails dug into his skin in such a deliciously wicked way, blood pounded in his cock.

“If I had only a few days left,” he whispered, “I would want to spend them pleasuring you.”

Approval flared hot in her gaze, and her nails dug in deeper to pull him even closer. So close her legs opened and her thighs brushed the outsides of his.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I would want that too.”

They weren’t talking in hypotheticals anymore. And knowing she—maybe even he—likely did only have a few days left, he intended to give her exactly what they both wanted.

He closed his arms around her, drawing her tight to his chest, then lowered his mouth to within an inch of hers. “Let me pleasure you, Kavin.”

Chapter Nine

She smelled like vanilla and honey.

Nasir wasn’t sure if it was her perfume or shampoo or what, but he loved the scent. And the soft, supple feel of her bare breasts pressing against his chest.

He waited, wanting…needing…her approval before this went any further. And when she whispered the word yes and lifted her mouth to his, victory ricocheted through him.

His mouth lowered to hers. Warmth and life tingled beneath his lips. Her fingers slid into his hair, then she tipped her head. And when he licked at the seam of her mouth, she opened without hesitation. Let him in. Gave him his first taste of something rich and exotic and hypnotizing.

Someone moaned. He wasn’t sure if it was her or him, but he didn’t care. All he could focus on was the slick wetness of her mouth, the way her tongue languidly stroked his, the way her breasts tickled his chest.

“Kavin…” He lifted one hand to cup her face, to tip her head the other way so he could kiss her more deeply. So he could taste another inch of her.

She scooted closer, more fully onto his lap, until the heat of her bare sex rested against his fly. The towel fell from her body to float in the water behind her. And everywhere, her heat consumed him. Entranced him. Overwhelmed him.

His lips slid from her mouth to her jaw, then trailed hot kisses across to her ear. She sifted her other hand into his hair, groaned, and tipped her head, offering more. Offering anything he wanted. And the way she rocked against his lap, rubbing against his throbbing cock, nearly did him in.

He wanted to hear her pleasure, wanted to feel it himself. He lowered his head, cupped her right breast, then lifted it toward his mouth. She answered by easing back just enough, then moaned all over again as his tongue brushed her wet, tight nipple.

“Nasir…” Her fingers tightened in his hair. Her hips pushed against his again.

He licked all around the areola, then drew her breast into his mouth, suckling as he’d wanted to do, until she dropped her head back and moaned long and low in ecstasy.

Blood rushed to his groin. Sent a blinding desire roaring through his veins. With one arm locked around her waist, he pushed out of the water and moved for the steps. Setting her down on the edge of the bath, he laid her out on the cool tiles and moved to her other breast.

She was responsive in ways he didn’t expect. Passionate in ways he couldn’t predict. As he continued to lick and nibble and revel in the sounds she made, something in his chest broke open wide. A part of himself he’d closed off when Talah had died.

He didn’t want to examine what was happening to him. Didn’t want to think. He just wanted to feel.

“Your skin is so soft,” he mumbled as he slid his lips from her breast to her stomach, tracing a line of wet kisses to her belly button. “I want to taste more of you. I want to taste all of you.”

She drew in a sharp breath. Pushed up on her elbows and braced her feet on the steps beneath him. When he nudged her knees apart, she didn’t stop him, but he felt her gaze on him. And when he moved his mouth lower, across her belly, he looked up and watched her eyes widen and darken with lust.

A jolt of arousal sent his pulse skipping. He looked down at her body laid out before him, at the triangle of red curls, then lower to her sex, already glistening with her arousal.

He palmed her breast with his right hand, slid the other down her belly, and parted her with his fingers. Then groaned long and low when he finally saw all of her.

Pink. Wet. So damn tempting it was all he could do not to rip off his pants and drive into her.

She sucked in a breath. Held very still while he looked his fill. As a jarriah in training, he knew she’d likely been instructed—at least academically—in all manners of pleasure. But from the hesitation on her face, he was sure this was the first time anyone had seen her. Knew this was going to be the first time anyone touched her. And the knowledge of that sent a thrill through every inch of his body.

He lowered his head and, slowly, stroked his tongue up her cleft. Then groaned all over again when he reached the swollen nub of her clit and she shuddered.

“Nasir…” Her head dropped back. Instinct took hold. She lifted her hips, seeking more.

He did it again, this time circling her clit with his tongue and finally suckling until her whole body trembled.

“Oh…”

“Feel me, rouhi. Feel me licking you. Tasting you. Feel me pleasuring you with my mouth.”

She moaned. Lifted her hips again and again while he lapped at her. And, as her arousal grew, he felt it everywhere. In his cock. In his skin. In his soul.

He pinched her nipple as he circled and swirled. Lowering his other hand, he brushed his fingers against her sex. She was wet and dripping. And so very hot. He wanted nothing more than to slide inside her, feel her clench around his fingers, but didn’t want to do anything to give her master a reason to take her from him. At least not yet.

“Let go, rouhi.” He blew hot against her mound, rolled her nipple. “Let go and come for me.”

She gasped. Tightened her muscles. Panted on the verge of blinding ecstasy. He lowered his mouth to her clit once more and suckled as he continued to tease her breasts. As he drove her wild with his fingers. With his lips. With his tongue.

Her whole body tensed, and she cried out. And as her release consumed her, he rode it with her, licking her gently, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could, enjoying it through her, in a way he’d never known before.

She fell back against the tiles, twitched from the aftermath. Lifting his head, he looked up her gorgeous body to make sure she was okay. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths. Her skin was slicked with sweat, her eyes still closed, her cheeks flushed and hot. But when a slow smile began to curl her tempting lips, he knew she wasn’t just okay. She was sated and relaxed, enjoying a satisfying post-orgasmic glow.

Sheer pride rippled through him. That he’d done that to her. That he’d been the one to give her pleasure no one else ever had.

He pressed his lips against her lower belly, then kissed her higher, moving back up her body as he crawled out of the water and eased over onto his side next to her, marveling at the way she didn’t flinch from his touch. At the way she sighed in complete contentment.

His fingers grazed her right breast, and she trembled again. Bracing himself on his elbow, he looked down at all her luxurious hair laid out beneath her, wondering how he could have thought she was a highborn that very first day. Wondering how the hell he hadn’t seen the goodness inside her. It was his anger, he realized as he took her in. All that pent-up fury he’d shielded himself with after Talah’s death. He hadn’t thought Ghuls were all evil before that day. Hadn’t ever expected it would take a slave—a Ghul slave—to show him they weren’t all evil now.

“Did you enjoy that, rouhi?”

Her eyes fluttered open. Glossy, seductive, radiant eyes met his. Eyes that drew him in and pushed all other thought right out of his head. “Yes,” she whispered, brushing her fingers against his arm. “Very much.”

“Good. That’s what I wanted.”

He lowered to take her mouth. Intended it to be a gentle kiss. But when she threaded her fingers into his hair and dragged him closer, all that pent-up arousal pushed his need right back to the forefront.

Her mouth… Her breasts pressing against his bare chest… The way she lifted her leg and parted her thighs, inviting him, luring him, drawing him closer to all her succulent heat…

“Kavin,” he managed, trying to pull back from her lips, failing miserably. His cock was so hard against her thigh, his need so great, he didn’t know how much longer he could resist.

“I want you, Nasir. I want to feel you inside me.”

Oh, Allah. So did he. So much so he could barely see straight.

It took every ounce of strength he had to ease away. “I…can’t.”

“But I thought—” She looked down her body, to her bare hip, where his throbbing erection pressed hard and hot and so eager to get inside her. Then her gaze snapped back to his. But this time, it wasn’t brimming with desire; it was laced with confusion. And disappointment. A whole lot of disappointment that speared straight to his chest. “I thought you wanted me,” she said in a small voice.

He hated that look of rejection on her face. He was responsible for that. After the way he’d treated her before… After the things he’d said… But he could change it now.

Brushing her hair back from her face, he leaned down to kiss her lips again. Gently. Sweetly. Over and over until she opened and slid her tongue into his mouth, drawing him deeper into something he knew he’d never escape. His blood was a roar in his ears once more. His cock so hard he hurt. But his suffering was worth it if it killed the worry in her eyes.

“I’m not ready to share you,” he said against her lips. “I don’t want them to take you from me yet.”

She eased back, stared up at him with even more confusion. But swimming in her sea-green eyes, he saw heat. The same heat burning him from the inside out. And followed quickly on its tail, a burst of tenderness that softened her entire face.

“Oh, Nasir,” she whispered, running her palm against his stubbly cheek.

His chest tightened. A sensation he hadn’t felt in so long he wasn’t sure what was causing it. But he liked it. So much that even though he knew this was futile, that eventually she’d be taken from him or one of them would die, he turned his lips into her hand, kissed her palm, then closed his eyes and hung on to the feeling.

Not of despair and misery but of hope. And the promise of a tiny speck of blessed light instead of all the wretched darkness he’d been living with.

She pushed him back so he was sitting, then moved into the water. Surprised, he looked down at her. At the wild tangle of red hair around her flushed face. At the same hunger he felt reflected in her eyes. She knelt on the steps, gorgeous and naked and his, and when she pushed his legs apart, then ran her hands up his fabric-covered thighs, sparks of heat ricocheted right up his legs and into his groin.

“I want to pleasure you, Nasir. The same way you pleasured me.”

He sucked in a breath. Unable to move. Unable to think. Unable to do anything but stare. And want. And lust.

“I want to feel you against my tongue,” she whispered, reaching for the button on his pants. “This time, I want to taste you come in my mouth.”

* * *

Kavin’s pulse beat so hard she was sure Nasir had to hear it.

Did he want that? Did he want her to touch and taste and pleasure him the way he’d pleasured her?

He’d said he wanted her. His words from moments ago—his reason for not claiming her—still rippled through her chest, sending warmth to every nerve ending in her body. No words had ever meant more to her. But did he want her mouth on him right now, the way his had been on her?

Please say yes. Please say yes…

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she was dying to see all of him, to feel him with her hands, to taste him with her tongue. Though she’d never felt the urge before, right now, she needed to make him feel as good as he’d made her feel. Craved it in a way she’d never craved anything else.

“Nasir?” she asked hesitantly when he only continued to stare at her with those heated, dark eyes. Eyes that sent desire skipping right back through her veins, mixed with a wariness she knew he saw.

“It’s been a long time for me,” he said in a low voice. A sexy voice. An oh-my-Allah, I-could-come-again-just-listening-to-that-voice voice. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I want to.” He didn’t stop her when she unhooked the button at his waistband. And she took that as her sign, slowly sliding the zipper down his fly. “I need to.”

He tensed when she pushed her hands beneath his waistband, one on each side of his hips. His skin was warm against her palms, the muscles bunched below so damn alluring. Bracing his hands on each side of him, he lifted for her, letting her slide his thin black training pants past his hips and down his thighs.

His erection sprang up, so thick, so hard. And then it was her turn to draw in a sharp breath. Her hands faltered as she looked her fill. He was bigger than she expected—thicker, longer, darker at the tip—but it didn’t frighten her. If anything, the sight of him so aroused excited her. She drew in his scent—musk and man and need. Licking her lips, she dragged his pants the rest of the way off and tossed them onto the tiles beside the bath, then wondered—imagined—how he would taste in her mouth, how he would feel sliding inside her body.

Her pulse raced. Leaning forward, she braced her hands on his thighs and felt him tense all over again.

A smile curled her lips. He liked her touch. As much as she liked his. She tipped her eyes up to his. “You may need to help me a little. I’ve never done this.”

His eyes darkened, and he drew in another deep breath as she leaned forward and extended her tongue, licking just the very tip.

He was warm and hard and just the slightest bit salty. An interesting and unusual taste. But when he groaned low in his throat, she lost her inhibition and leaned closer still, running her tongue along the underside of his head, then opening and wrapping her lips all the way around him.

She knew, of course, what to do. As a jarriah in training, she’d seen pictures and drawings of the various sex acts. She’d even, secretly, been shown a live encounter between a jarriah and a highborn. A visual that had left her sick to her stomach at the thought of being forced to do any and all of the things she’d witnessed. But this wasn’t forced. And this didn’t leave a pit in the bottom of her belly. In fact, as she moved her lips lower, suckled, and drew back, her own arousal increased, until she had to press her thighs together to assuage the ache growing once more between her legs.

Nasir dropped his head back and closed his eyes. With his hands braced against the tiles, his torso tipped back, and his face angled toward the ceiling, Kavin had a great view of his body. Chiseled, hard, so incredibly perfect, he looked as if he’d been carved from stone. As she continued to work him over with her mouth, just as she’d seen that other jarriah do, she remembered how it had felt to have his hands on her body as he’d licked her. Growing more confident, she slid one hand up his belly and lightly pinched his nipple.

He moaned in response and lifted his hips, forcing his cock deeper into her mouth. “Oh yes, rouhi, that feels so good. Flick the tip with your tongue when you pull back.”

His words inflamed her, excited her, aroused her to explosive levels. She eased back, ran her tongue all along the head, just as he’d said, then took him deep in her mouth once more.

“Allah,” he whispered. “Just like that. Deeper.”

His fingers threaded into her hair, massaged the back of her scalp, applied just the slightest amount of pressure so she drew him deeper. Easing back again, she looked up to see his reaction and realized he was watching her through dark and hooded lashes, his eyes as smoldering as she’d ever seen, his face flushed and sparkling with a thin sheen of sweat.

She was making him feel as good as he’d made her feel. But it wasn’t enough. The need to make him come, to make him lose control just as he’d done to her, overwhelmed her.

She refocused on her task, tightened her lips, lowered, and took him even deeper, until he brushed the back of her throat. And when he groaned again, when he lifted his hips again and again as if he couldn’t stop, she didn’t let up. She drove him closer to the edge with her mouth, raked her fingernails across his balls with one hand, and pinched his nipples with the other.

“Rouhi… Allah, you need to stop. I won’t be able to hold back much longer.”

She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to taste all of him. And the strain she heard in his voice told her he didn’t really want her to stop either.

She continued to suckle him, pushed his hands away when he tried to ease her off his cock, then took him as deep as she ever had. And then she swallowed again and again until her throat worked around his length and he groaned long and low.

“You feel so good, rouhi. Oh yes, keep swallowing, just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna come. Do you want me to come in your mouth?”

He grew even harder, thrust deeper, faster. She looked up, continued to work him over with her lips and tongue and throat in answer, continued to give him everything he’d given her. His hand tightened in her hair; his eyes glazed over. Then his entire body trembled.

A growl burst from his chest just as his cock twitched in her mouth. “I’m coming.”

His seed burst across her tongue, filling her mouth with a salty sweetness she loved. She swallowed, drawing out his orgasm, watching as it overwhelmed him, consumed him, and left him as boneless as hers had left her. His hand dropped from her hair to the tiles. His muscles quivered as he braced his weight against his arms. Only when she felt him soften slightly against her tongue did she finally let go.

He blinked several times, seemed to have trouble focusing. Then finally rasped, “By Allah. Where did you learn to do that?”

Heat burned her cheeks as she eased back to sit on her heels in the water. She knew his question wasn’t meant as an accusation, but it hit her as such, dousing the arousal she’d felt before and reminding her just what she really was. Suddenly very aware of her nakedness, and his, and the fact that, even though he’d just orgasmed, his erection was still hard and big, lying against his thigh, she swallowed, then lifted her gaze back to his face. “I… They make all of the trainees…watch. I’ve never done that before, though. I mean, that was the first time I…”

She clamped her lips together before the words could get all the way out. Sickness flooded her belly, a sickness she’d kept at bay by not thinking too much about the future. But now…

He was in the water before she saw him move. His arms wrapped around her body, drawing her close, his lips closing over hers to kiss her crazy all over again. And as he held her, as his strong, muscular body pressed against her and his tongue stroked hers in that wicked, erotic way as it had before, it pushed away the dark thoughts and drew back every inch of that desire she’d felt before. When he’d pleasured her. When she’d pleasured him.

A devastatingly handsome smile turned his lips when he eased back from her mouth. A smile that made him look years younger and so full of life, it stole her breath. “I’ve been trying to plot my revenge against the highborns since the day I was brought here. But you just proved pleasure is the very best revenge there is.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she didn’t dwell on it, instead brushed the dark hair back from his face so she could see his eyes better. “You’re not upset?”

“Why would I be upset?”

“Because they’re right. I just demonstrated I can be as big a”—she fought back the hitch in her voice as she looked down at his chest—“whore…as the others in the harem.”

“Rouhi, look at me.” He tipped her chin up with his finger. “Did I force you to do anything you didn’t want to do?”

“No.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Her cheeks heated all over again when she remembered his mouth on her sex, when she remembered how hot he’d been against her tongue. She glanced at his lips. His luscious, sweet, tempting lips. “Yes.”

“Then you’re not a whore.”

“But some jarriah in the harem enjoy what they’re made to do.” Her stomach rolled when she remembered Hana telling her that many jarriah learned to crave what the highborns did to them, alone, in multiples, whenever and wherever they wanted.

“Enjoy or tolerate, because they don’t know any better?”

Slowly, her gaze shifted to his eyes. His soft, fathomless eyes. “Are you saying they lie?”

“I’m saying they’re not given a choice. You are. With me, here, now, everything is up to you. You are not one of them, rouhi. With me, here in this cell, you’re mine, and I am yours.”

Warmth unfurled in her stomach. A warmth she felt all the way to her toes. Rouhi… He’d called her that several times now. Did it mean the same in his language that it did in hers? She wanted it to. She loved the thought that he was calling her “his soul.” Because that was how she was suddenly thinking of him.

He was not at all what she’d expected. He was kind and sweet and so damn sexy she could barely believe she’d once thought him a monster. She knew it was silly to romanticize what was happening between them. He’d told her—flat out—that pleasure was a form of revenge. But she didn’t want to be just another way for him to get back at the highborns who’d imprisoned him. She wanted to be more. She wanted to be his in every sense of the word.

As he lowered his head and kissed her again, she cupped his face, opened for him, and drew him into her mouth and heart and soul. His erection pressed against her thigh, sent a jolt of arousal rushing through her veins all over again. Told her, oh, yes, he wanted her as much as she wanted him. And though she was desperate to feel him slide inside her body, she knew he wouldn’t—at least not yet.

But that was okay with her. Because she didn’t want to give him up yet either. If he took her—when he finally took her—she’d revel in the moment and carry it with her for the rest of her life.

However long or short that might be.

Chapter Ten

A crash somewhere close jolted Nasir from sleep.

Confusion hit as he blinked at the sunlight streaming into his cell, reflecting off the white walls and bathing the entire room in warmth. But it was quickly replaced with a wave of heat when he registered Kavin’s naked body pressed tight against his under the threadbare blanket.

A smile curled one side of his mouth when he remembered carrying her from the bath to this bed last night, laying her out, and pleasuring her all over again with his hands and mouth, then falling asleep in her arms when they’d finally both been breathless and exhausted. The way she’d given herself over to him touched him in a way he couldn’t define. Touched him in a way no one else had ever done.

His smile faded. He stared across the room at the shadow of the bars high on the wall above his head and thought of Talah. If she were still alive…if she were at home, waiting for him, would he be feeling what he was right now?

His heart thumped hard as he looked down at Kavin, her face resting gently on his chest, her hand over his heart. He’d loved Talah, had wanted to spend his life with her, but it had always rubbed him the wrong way that she’d never been able to commit. Even right up until that last moment they’d spent together, something had been holding her back.

Did he feel differently about Kavin because she needed him in a way Talah never had? Or was it something more?

His mind was a sea of confusion. He didn’t know what to think. What to feel, for that matter. Something had happened to him yesterday—something he hadn’t expected. And now, all he could think about was finding a way to spend more time with Kavin. To figure out what it was about her that touched him. It didn’t matter that she was Ghul and he was Marid. All that mattered was that he wasn’t going to be satisfied with only two more nights. He wanted weeks. Months. He wanted…

Years.

Holy Allah…

His pulse picked up speed as a rush of emotions pummeled his chest from every side. Revenge and hatred were no longer fueling him. What now gave him life, what breathed air into his lungs, was the thought of freedom. With Kavin. And a life free of war and prisons and the horrors he’d lived with for so long.

“Yes. Yes…this is who you are, Nasir. Remember it…”

Talah’s voice, as strong as he’d ever heard it, faded slowly until it was only a whisper in his mind. Until he didn’t need it anymore to drag him back from the darkness.

Pulse pounding, he looked back down at Kavin, at her sweet, succulent lips, at the tangled red hair around her face. At her delicate, porcelain skin. At the bruises around her neck and down her arms where that guard had held her, then to the fading lash marks across her breasts. Marks he’d noticed last night and had wanted to ask her about, but hadn’t because he didn’t want to ruin the moment. But seeing them now, in the light of day, a burst of anger whipped through him. Anger, surprisingly, that he could control. Anger that gave him purpose. A purpose he’d been lacking since being enslaved.

Voices echoed from the hallway.

The guards, he realized. Coming to drag him to his daily training. He only had seconds before he’d be separated from Kavin again. Hopefully for only a few hours.

“Rouhi,” he whispered, gently shaking her.

Her lashes fluttered, and she groaned. But when she focused, those jade-like eyes of hers darkened with desire just as they had last night. Then her lips turned up in such a  provocative way, he swelled against her thigh.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“A very good morning.” He leaned down and touched his mouth to hers. Electricity arced between them, a shock that rippled through his groin. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself all over again in her kiss, but forced himself to pull away. “Your servant will be here to check you anytime.”

Her smile faded as he eased up to sitting. She moved next to him and brushed the hair back from her face. “I almost forgot about her.”

He hadn’t. Suddenly, anything that had to do with Kavin was foremost in his mind. “I heard the guards outside. They’ll be here soon.”

He climbed out of the bed and walked to the bath, where he picked up her dress and his pants from the ground. When he brought them back to her, he didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed as she studied his naked body.

Heat rushed through his veins, reigniting that arousal he’d been fighting all morning. “Do you like what you see, rouhi?”

Her cheeks turned bright red, but she tipped her face up to his, not trying to hide her interest in the least. “Very much.”

Blood rushed to his cock, made him hard all over again. He dropped the clothes on her lap, then leaned down and kissed her, pressing her back into the mattress, thankful for the scraps of cloth preventing him from taking what he so desperately wanted. “Don’t tease me. Not yet.”

He nipped at her bottom lip, loving the way she tasted, the way her silky fingers raced over his bare back. Somehow, he found the willpower to push away from her body and drag his pants on. She sighed and pulled her dress over her head. But her eyes stayed locked on his abs and—he was pretty sure—his hips. Making him that much harder.

While he tried not to notice, she pushed from the bed and let her skirt fall down her legs. “Will you tease me again tonight? Or will you…you know?”

He buttoned his pants. “Will I what?”

She smoothed out her dress, then sat again. “You know…take me.”

The hitch to her voice froze his hand against his waistband. And the thought of doing just that, of lifting the dress she’d just put on and pushing deep inside her body, inflamed him from the inside out. “Do you still want me to?”

Her chest rose and fell, the soft swell of her breasts dragging his attention from her face to her body. Her gorgeous, beautiful body no one but he had touched. “Yes,” she whispered. “More than I ever expected.”

Guards and impending servants forgotten, he dropped to his knees in front of her. The need to make her his in every sense of the word burned hot, but he fought it back. Because what he wanted now wasn’t just her body. He wanted her soul too.

When they were eye to eye, he brushed his fingers against her cheek. “Kavin, I want that too. Desperately. But when we make love, it will be on our terms, not on some highborn’s.”

Her brow furrowed as she searched his eyes. “But if you don’t… Before the days are up…he’ll…he’ll have me—”

His heart cinched down hard, a heart he hadn’t felt in so long he was almost shocked to know it was still there. A heart she had reawakened. “He won’t. I won’t let him.”

“But how will you stop him? If the allotted time passes, and I’m still a virgin—”

“I won’t share you.”

“You won’t be able to stop him. We’re both just slaves.”

He squeezed her hand resting in her lap, wanting, needing her to believe in him in a way Talah never had. “I will keep you safe, Kavin. Trust me. I’ll find a way.”

She stared into his eyes with that unreadable expression so long he wasn’t sure what she was thinking. And he held his breath and waited, wondering if she’d brush him off the way Talah had. Wondering if he was destined to repeat all the mistakes of his past…losing not only what was left of his heart but of his mind too.

“I do, Nasir,” she finally whispered. “I trust in you.”

His heart swelled, seemed to grow inside his chest. He dragged her face toward his and kissed her deeply, knowing this female—this Ghul, of all people—was the only person who could bring him back from the brink of despair. He wouldn’t fail her. This time, everything would be different.

The jangling of keys just beyond the door drew him back and away. Nerves vibrating, he crossed to the other side of the room, then eased down to sit against the cool ground so the guards wouldn’t know what had happened between them. But as he propped his arms on his updrawn knees, he chanced a peek at her. At her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, and her soft, soft eyes. Eyes that were watching him, just as he was watching her. Eyes filled with emotions he hoped mirrored his own.

The cell door clanged open, and two guards stepped into the room. Two new guards Nasir had never seen. Followed by the slave girl he’d glimpsed yesterday.

Options raced through his mind. Thoughts, scenarios, escape plans he knew he could never make work. Followed by Malik’s words in the training circle.

“I was once a sahad like you. I developed the powers I was left with. And I learned to block certain things from those around me.”

In an instant, he knew how they were going to break free. The only catch was time.

Nasir glanced at Kavin. They had two more nights together—two more full days, if he got through his training quickly and Malik let him off easy. On the third, her highborn would be back for her. If they worked hard, they had enough time.

He just prayed Kavin was strong enough for what lay ahead.

* * *

Kavin watched as the guards hauled Nasir to his feet and took him out of the cell for his daily training routine. He didn’t glance back at her, and though she knew why, a tiny part of her couldn’t help but be disappointed.

The door clanged shut, and then she was alone with Hana.

Hana clasped her hands behind her back, her long dark hair pulled into a tail at her nape. “You look like you had an interesting night, jarriah.”

Heat rushed to Kavin’s cheeks. Could the slave girl sense what had happened in this room? She brushed the unruly curls back from her face. Told herself no one knew but her and Nasir. But even just thinking about what they’d done, remembering how his mouth had felt on her breasts, on her belly, on her sex… Warmth pooled in Kavin’s stomach and sent a bittersweet ache between her thighs.

She lowered her hands, clasped them in her lap, trying not to give anything away. “I’m fine.”

“Hm,” was all Hana said. But the look on her face told Kavin the slave girl didn’t believe her. She held out her hand. “Come.”

“Come?” Kavin asked, looking up in surprise. “Where?” The last few times Hana had appeared in the pits, she’d checked Kavin, then returned to the harem to inform Zayd his jarriah was still a virgin.

“Your master has requested you.”

A burst of fear rippled through Kavin as she stood on suddenly shaky legs. No, this wasn’t right. Zayd had said she’d stay until she either completed her test or was executed. “Wh-why?”

“Why is of no concern to you. Your master is waiting.”

Kavin’s nerves were a quivering mass of fear and apprehension as she stepped toward the door. Outside, a guard from the harem waited, kicking Kavin’s worry up another massive notch.

She followed Hana out of the pits and into the sunlight toward the carriage. The guard’s ominous presence at her back did nothing to settle her fears. As they traveled the cobblestone streets of Jahannam, Kavin tried to figure out what Zayd could possibly want with her. Memories of the last time he’d called her back—after that first night with Nasir—spiraled through her mind. His rage at her failure. His promise of punishment should she fail again.

“I will keep you safe, Kavin. Trust me. I’ll find a way.”

She closed her eyes as the carriage jostled her against the seat and fought back the despair. How could Nasir keep her safe when he was locked in the pits and she was…here?

The carriage jerked to a stop, and the door was pulled open. Bright sunlight burned her eyes as she climbed out and was escorted to Zayd’s compound. Towering palms and brightly colored flowers greeted her as she stepped into the garden, but she barely noticed the beauty. All she could think about was Zayd, and what he had planned for her next.

The harem was just as she remembered when they stepped off the lift, posh and overdone in vibrant colors. Several jarriah lay draped over the velvet couches in low-cut, revealing gowns, just waiting to be summoned. To be used. And moans, hinges creaking, and the undeniable sounds of sex could be heard from a room down the narrow hall to her left.

Kavin swallowed the bile rising in her throat and glanced away from the curious eyes. She knew she had to look a sight after days locked in Nasir’s cell. And thanks to that guard who’d attacked her last night, bruises covered her neck and arms. Did the other jarriah think she’d been raped? Was that what Zayd would think too? Was that why Hana had brought her back?

When Hana motioned for her to follow, Kavin didn’t look back at the females she felt watching her every move. Instead, she steeled her nerves as she was led down a dimly lit corridor toward Zayd’s private rooms at the end of the hall.

Hana knocked on the double doors. Kavin’s stomach tensed when Zayd’s voice called, “Enter.”

The doors opened, and, pulse pounding, Kavin followed Hana into the opulent, blue room with its leather furnishings and heavy draperies. A cluster of couches flanked the enormous fireplace. Across the expensive rug, a canopied bed, large enough to comfortably sleep at least four, sat against a wall. To her right, seated behind his enormous desk, Zayd eyed her with…approval.

“My, my, my,” Zayd said, leaning back in his chair. “Look what the cat finally dragged in.”

Kavin’s pulse shot up, and sweat slicked her skin as the guard stepped back toward the door, joining his place next to the first, blocking her only exit.

“Strip her,” Zayd said to Hana.

Kavin’s heart pounded against her ribs as the slave girl tugged the straps of her gown down her arms. The thin garment slipped free of her body to pool at her feet, leaving her standing before Zayd, completely naked.

This is not my life…

She closed her eyes tight. Tried to stay calm. But her pulse was a roar in her ears and that voice screaming, Run!, Escape! Now! was all she could focus on.

Hana stepped back. Kavin knew not to cover herself, but her stomach caved in, and every muscle tightened as Zayd’s chair creaked. Tearing her eyes open, she watched as he rose from his chair with a licentious grin and walked around the ornate desk.

What would he do when he realized she was still a virgin? She swallowed hard as his gaze slid from the bruises at her neck, down her breasts, to the marks on her arms. And her stomach turned when he looked to her hips, and, finally, to the thin patch of hair covering her sex.

“Well, jarriah,” he said in a low voice. A sickening voice. “It looks like you were finally used well.”

This is not my life!

She knew not to fight him. Knew there was nothing she could do. But bile welled in her throat when he placed his hand on her shoulder, when he dragged it down her arm, then cupped her breast as if he owned it. And when his hand trailed down her stomach, she clenched her teeth to keep from pulling her arm back and pounding him in the jaw.

Nasir. Think of Nasir. She closed her eyes. Breathed hard and fast through her nose.

“Slave,” Zayd barked. “Come here.”

She sensed Hana move close. Braced herself for the girl’s small hand, relieved it would be her checking for the confirmation Zayd so desperately sought, instead of him.

“Well?” Zayd asked, his voice strained with excitement, his hands continuing to cup and fondle her breast in a way that made her want to vomit.

Hana’s hand pulled away, and she pushed to her feet on a sigh. “She is still a virgin, master.”

For several seconds, nothing happened. No sound. No reaction at all from Zayd. And then she felt the heat of his body, so close Kavin sucked in a sharp breath and dragged open her eyes.

A fury she’d never seen coated his features. A malicious look that sent ice to the pit of Kavin’s stomach.

“Still you fail me,” he growled. “Perhaps the problem is you just don’t know what’s expected of you.”

No, no, no… He can’t. He wouldn’t…

He jerked his gaze away from her and nodded toward the guards.

Footfalls echoed across the marble floor. Terror pushed a cry up Kavin’s throat. But hands didn’t close over her as she expected. The guards didn’t touch her. Instead, they grasped Hana at her side and jerked the slave girl around until she was standing in front of Kavin, her eyes wide with fear, her chest rising and falling with her own shallow breaths.

Zayd moved behind Kavin and breathed hot against her ear. “Maybe what you require, jarriah, is a demonstration.”

Oh, Allah…no…. Servants were not to be used like that. There were class systems, even amongst slaves.

His hair brushed her neck as he nodded at the guards over her shoulder, and Kavin stared in shocked fury as the guard on the right grasped the neckline of the slave girl’s dress and ripped it right down the front, as if it were made of paper.

Hana cried out. Her dress fell open. The guard’s meaty hands grasped her small breasts in their bruising grip. Hana whimpered, jerked against the other guard, but he was too big, his hold too tight. Sickened, Kavin slammed her eyes shut and tried to look away, but Zayd growled in her ear, “Watch.”

“Please don’t do this to her…”

“You do this to her, jarriah. By your repeated failure. You are responsible.” His fingers closed around her jaw, turned her back to look. “Open your eyes.”

She did as he said, not because she was afraid for herself, but because it was the only thing she could do to help Hana. “Take me instead. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Hana whimpered as the guard continued to maul her. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled.

“Whatever I want?” Zayd asked with interest.

“Y-yes.”

Zayd didn’t answer. And as the seconds ticked by with nothing but the sound of the guards’ heavy breaths and Hana’s muffled sobs, Kavin was afraid to wonder what he was planning next.

Finally, he said, “You’ll stop fighting the sahad. Tonight.”

“Yes,” she whispered. He didn’t need to know she didn’t have to fight Nasir. Unlike Zayd, Nasir would never lay a hand on her in anger. But sickness brewed in her belly at the knowledge that after Nasir did take her, she’d be right back here where Zayd could do anything he wanted to her.

“Stop.”

Relief whipped through Kavin as the guards dropped their hands from Hana’s body. The girl fell to her knees on the floor, her body shaking, her face flushed and lined with tears.

This will be me…

“You’ll let him fuck you tonight, jarriah, or I’ll give this girl to the guards permanently.”

Hana whimpered, but Kavin couldn’t read her expression because Zayd’s fingers tightened until pain shot through her jaw. She twisted his way to alleviate the pressure, until his enraged face and eyes brimming with retribution filled her vision and nearly stopped her heart.

“And you, jarriah,” he said in that menacing, vile voice. “If you fail me again, I’ll toss you into the arena with the other sahads and let them gang rape you.”

Hana gasped, and terror raced down Kavin’s spine as she swallowed hard beneath his hand. He’d do it. She didn’t doubt that for one minute. He’d find the most perverse and humiliating way to punish her, and he’d get off not only by ordering it but by watching too.

“After, that is…” He eased his grip and brushed his knuckles against her sore and aching jaw. “I’ve had my fill of you.”

He leaned close to her ear. So close she couldn’t see him anymore. But she felt him. Everywhere. And her heart rate skyrocketed at the promise she heard in his voice when he whispered, “And when they’re done desecrating your body, then I’ll kill you myself, just for the fun of it.”

Chapter Eleven

Nasir paced the confines of his cell.

Yesterday, the new room had felt airy and light, and a thousand times bigger than the dank cage he’d been locked in before. But today, it was too small, too tight and—he paused and looked up at the fading rays of sunlight filtering through the barred window high on the wall—too empty.

Where the hell was she?

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, tried to stay calm. Failed miserably. When he’d left Kavin to begin the days’ training, she’d been with the slave girl. The one who’d come to check her each morning. Hours had passed since then. He’d expected her to be here when he returned. Wanted to tell her what was happening tomorrow. Needed to start working on developing their gifts as Malik had done. It was their only hope of breaking free of this place once and for all.

But if the highborn took her already…

His feet stilled. And a trail of fury burned straight through his gut. But it was quickly doused with reality. No, she was still a virgin. She hadn’t completed her “test.” Highborns were nothing if not predictable. They followed their own twisted rules and rarely shied from them. She had at least two more days before her time was up—two more nights. Which meant she’d been taken somewhere else. By someone else.

A wave of unease swept through him as his gaze snapped to the door, and he thought of the guards on the other side. Two new guards who hadn’t stood watch over him before.

He hadn’t seen the guard who’d attacked Kavin last night. Didn’t know where he’d gone or if he was coming back. But if he’d touched her again… If he’d so much as looked at her—

The heavy door swung open. And a wave of red hair and black silk filled the space. Relief was swift and consuming. So overwhelming he didn’t even care that someone had pushed her into the room, that she was stumbling forward. Instinctively, he caught her around the waist, dragged her close as the cell door clanged closed behind her. Drew in her sweet scent as if it were his last breath.

“Rouhi…”

She trembled. Gripped his arms. Then turned her face into his bare chest and held on tight.

He closed his eyes and reveled in the softness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair, and the warmth of her body, reminding him he was alive. Even in hell. But when warm wetness trickled across his chest, he realized she was crying.

“Rouhi?” He pushed her back so he could see her face. Tear tracks lined her cheeks, sending his anxiety up all over again. “What happened?”

“No-nothing. I’m f-fine.”

She wasn’t fine. She was scared to death. He ground his teeth to keep from frightening her more. But if that guard had come back and touched her… “What did they do?”

“Nothing. They didn’t do anything…to me.” Her eyes welled with tears, then she collapsed against him in a fit of sobs that squeezed his chest like a vise. “Oh, Nasir.”

Questions revolved in his brain. Emotions closed his throat. Without knowing what had happened, how could he help her? He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Only knew…this was the first time in his entire life he’d ever felt utterly and completely helpless.

His eyes slid closed. He held her tight. He couldn’t lose her. Not her too…

When her trembling eased, he swallowed hard. He was afraid to hear the answer but knew he had to ask. “Tell me what happened.”

She sniffled, drew in a deep breath. Seemed to gather herself as she eased back and looked up. Her green eyes sparkled with unshed tears when she said, “The servant girl—Hana. She saw my bruises…from that guard. She must have thought you’d…” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I’m sure Zayd told her if there was any sign I’d been hurt to bring me back. So she did. Took me to the harem. To him.”

Rage welled inside Nasir, the bitter urge to decimate that had kept him alive in the pits this long, but he forced it back and waited, knowing he needed to give her time to tell him. That he couldn’t force it out of her. But his stomach pitched and rolled at the thought of the highborn looking at her. Touching her. And when she pushed out of his arms as if she couldn’t stand the thought of him holding her while she relayed the horror, he knew that was exactly what the son of a bitch had done.

“He was elated by my bruises. But when he found out I was still a virgin, well, let’s just say he was not happy. Irate, actually.”

She brushed the hair back from her face, and he caught sight of the purplish marks against the soft skin of her throat. Marks that asshole took pride in.

“I thought he was going to hurt me. When I saw his eyes, I thought he was going to kill me. But he didn’t. He knows my weaknesses better than I do.”

She looked up, and in her eyes there was pain…and a whole lot of anger he hadn’t seen from her before. “So he had his guards hurt Hana.”

“The slave girl?”

“I tried to stop them, but he wouldn’t let me. They ripped off her dress, then put their hands on her. And she was so scared.” Her voice hitched, and a soul-deep sadness replaced the anger. “I tried to look away, but he—Zayd—he made me watch.”

He caught her just as another sob racked through her. One he felt through every cell in his body. Holy Allah… He’d known the highborn was depraved, but this…

“I…I couldn’t let them rape her.”

A chill spread over his spine. “What did you do?”

“I…I promised him…” She rested her cheek against his chest, drew in a breath, let it out as her fingers splayed across his pec. “That by tomorrow I’d have completed my test.”

Tomorrow…

Shock rippled through Nasir’s body. No, tomorrow wouldn’t work. It didn’t give him enough time to teach her to harness what few powers the highborns hadn’t bound. It didn’t give them time to plan an escape. It was too soon. He needed more time. Needed more of her warming and bringing him back to life in a way no one ever had.

“No.” He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. Forced back the panic. “No,” he said louder. “You have two more days. Two more nights. The rule with the test is five days. Malik said its tradition. That it doesn’t change.”

She pulled back and looked up. “Don’t you see? If I hadn’t agreed, he wouldn’t have let me come back to you. He’d have broken the rules and sent me to another sahad, or worse, he’d have taken me himself. I read it in his eyes. He doesn’t care if I live or die anymore. He just wants to humiliate and use me however he can, and hurting Hana was simply part of that.”

Her lashes dropped as she looked back down at his chest. “At least this way we get to say good-bye. At least this way, I can always remember—for however short the rest of my life may be—that you were the first.” She looked up again and whispered, “The only one I’ve ever wanted. If, that is, you still want me too.”

Emotions stole through him, overwhelmed him, consumed every part of him. Then pushed out all rational thought until there was only need. And heat. And a desire like nothing he’d ever felt before.

He lowered his head and took her lips, then groaned when she opened instantly to let him in. Her mouth was wet and inviting, her skin dewy and so damn soft. Her arms circled around his neck. And her body—her lush, curvy, incredible body—pressed up against his, igniting an arousal he couldn’t fight back. Not anymore.

“Rouhi.” He changed the angle of the kiss, cupped her jaw, and slid his tongue over hers again and again and again until her taste made him light-headed. “I want you. Allah, I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid eyes on you. So much I can barely breathe from the need.”

She groaned, and her lips turned greedy against his. Hard, tight nipples covered by the thin fabric of her dress abraded his skin. And the heat from her pelvis so close to his sent stars firing off behind his eyelids.

“Nasir…” She threaded her fingers into his hair, continued to drive him mad with her mouth. “Please… Please… I need you…inside me.”

Yes. Yes. Yes… Why had they waited? That was what he wanted too.

He growled his agreement, trailed his hands down her slim back, and cupped her ass, lifting her easily. Her legs slid around his waist, her arms more fully around his shoulders. And her mouth, her soft and succulent mouth, never left his as he turned and carried her toward the bed.

This wasn’t about fulfilling some command or doing what either of them had been ordered. It was about need—primal, voracious, all-consuming erotic need. The kind that couldn’t be denied. Not anymore.

He lowered her to the bed, braced a hand against the blanket, and swallowed her moan of excitement when he eased on top of her. She kissed him deeper, spread her legs, lifted them around his hips. Arched into him so he could rub against her.

Oh, but the sounds she made…

It was all he could do not to lift her skirt, free himself, and thrust deep inside her. But he didn’t want that for her this first time. He wanted to tease her. To arouse her to never before known heights of pleasure. To make her remember this wherever she went from here.

Emotions tightened his throat, but he pushed them aside, focused on her. He licked into her mouth, nipped at her bottom lip, then trailed kisses across her jaw to her ear, where he blew hot, then nibbled at the tender flesh until she groaned.

She shivered, sifted her fingers into his hair. “Nasir…”

He loved the sound of her voice. Loved when she said his name. As he sucked at the sweet column of her throat, she arched into him. The hard nubs of her nipples grazed his naked chest. Amped his need higher still. Pushing the strap of her dress down, he kissed her shoulder, repeated with the other, then tugged at the garment until her beautiful breasts were finally freed.

“By Allah,” he whispered, easing back and looking down. The tips of her nipples were pink, like sweet, rich cherries, ready to be picked. Enjoyed. Devoured. “You are so beautiful.” He slid down her body, cupped her left breast with his palm, lowered and laved his tongue across the nub until she groaned. “I want to make love to your breasts with my mouth. With my cock…”

Her brows drew together, her gorgeous face flushed with her arousal, her breaths shallow and excited as she watched him. “Can you do that?”

He cupped her other breast, squeezed them together so he could lick first one nipple, then the other, and groaned at the thought of pressing his cock between the two succulent globes. Of her tongue flicking out to lick the tip. Of his seed spraying over her creamy skin as he came.

“Oh, yes, rouhi. I can.”

“Does it…feel good?”

His lips curled. He took her entire areola into his mouth and suckled until she dropped her head back and moaned, then released it to lave the pink tip with the flat of his tongue. “Yes. It feels extremely good.”

She lifted her head, blinked twice. “Okay. Do it.”

“What?”

“Make love to my breasts.”

He froze. He’d only been teasing. Easing back up her body, he kissed her lips. “Not now. This is about pleasuring you.”

She gripped his pants at the hips, preventing him from moving. “Then pleasure my breasts. I want to do everything with you, Nasir. I don’t want someone else to be the first at anything.”

His eyes held hers. And in the silence, he realized she was serious. And that she’d accepted what she would become after tonight.

* * *

Kavin held her breath and waited.

Had she said the wrong thing? Was she asking too much? Did he not want her that way?

Unease stole through her, turned her pulse to a roar in her ears. She searched Nasir’s chiseled features for any sign to his thoughts but came up empty. As the seconds dragged out, she knew only one thing. She wanted Nasir in every way imaginable. With a fierceness that had no bounds. Wanted this night to be the one thing she’d carry with her into the afterlife.

“Kavin,” he whispered just before lowering and taking her mouth.

Relief pulsed in her veins as she opened for him, as she tasted him again and gripped his shoulders to hold him tight. His weight pressed into hers, his body so hard and muscular and covered with a thin sheen of sweat that only excited her more.

How could she have ever been afraid of him? How could she have thought him a monster? She’d been so blinded by perception, she’d wasted precious days with him—precious hours—when they could have been doing this instead of ignoring each other in the tight confines of his cell.

She groaned as he kissed her deeper, as his tongue swept along her teeth, her tongue, her lips. He nibbled at her bottom lip, pressed his erection against her hips, moved his hand from her breast down her waist to her thigh, where he tugged up her skirt until she felt cool air brush her sex.

Nerves and excitement swirled together in her belly. His mouth moved to her jaw, her ear, her throat. She shivered, loving every rasp of his teeth, anticipating every press of his flesh against hers. But she wanted what he’d described earlier. Wanted everything. “Nasir…”

“Time for that later,” he mumbled against her throat, working his way down to her breasts again, pushing her dress up higher. “Need to taste you.”

She closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and ran her fingers through his shoulder-length hair as he laved her nipples, then moved down her belly. And groaned when his bristly cheek brushed her belly button.

Memories of his mouth, of his tongue, of his fingers pleasuring her whipped through her mind, sent a tremor through her body. Who was she to argue if he wanted to taste her first? Who was she to—

Her whole body vibrated when his tongue raked her clit, sent blinding pleasure all through her limbs. Words died on her lips as she shifted her legs wider, as she lifted her hips and groaned when he did it again. A tidal wave of desire swept over her, a craving that grew with every expert flick of his tongue and brush of his fingertips. One that built like a growing fire until it exploded through every cell in her body, turning her vision a blinding, glaring white.

“That’s it, rouhi,” he whispered against her overheated flesh. “Come for me.”

Her orgasm stole her breath, shook her body, robbed her of every thought. As the aftershocks rocked through her and she slowly started to come down the other side, she felt Nasir’s lips pressing whisper-soft kisses against her belly and hips, felt his thumb against her clit, sending delicious shivers through her all over again.

She blinked, stared up at the water-stained ceiling. Slowly recognized her surroundings. But words wouldn’t come. Gently, Nasir moved back up her body, but his fingers continued to stroke her, to tease her slowly, to drive her wild all over again.

“Allah,” he whispered as he kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her chin and nose. “You are so gorgeous when you come. The way you give yourself over to me so easily. No one’s ever done that.”

“No one?”

“Not the way you do.” He slid his fingers lower, against her opening, rubbed gently. “You’re so wet. I want to make you come again. I want to feel you all around me.”

She ran her arms up his shoulders. Oh, she wanted that too. Wanted him taking her. Claiming her. Finally making her his.

She lifted her mouth to his. “I want you inside me.”

He groaned and wrapped his arms around her while he stroked his tongue over hers again and again. Her hands streaked down to his hips, and she gripped his ass, pulling him in while she lifted, rubbing her sex against his rock-hard erection.

“Kavin… You make me so hot.”

She loved his admission but sensed a hesitation in him. The same hesitation that had been there from the start. One that kept him from sliding off his pants and giving her what they both so obviously wanted.

He didn’t want to hurt her. The realization hit her as he nipped at her bottom lip, as he pressed—gently—against her naked sex. Even now, when he was so hard he had to physically be in pain from the ache, he was holding back.

Tenderness squeezed her heart. Brought tears to her eyes all over again. This sahad—this djinni—who was supposed to be a monster, was the sweetest, sexiest, most amazing creature she’d ever met.

She hooked her leg over his hip and easily rolled him to his back. Straddling his hips, she eased back and looked down at his face.

Passion flushed his cheeks crimson as he brushed her hair back from her face. His lips were swollen and wet from her mouth. And there was so much need swirling in his eyes, she knew she’d remember it forever. Also knew that, no matter what, coming here, being sent to him—as horrific as it had been at first—was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

She pushed up so she was sitting on the rigid bulge of his arousal and tugged her dress up over her head, then tossed it on the floor.

His hands landed on her bare thighs, but his gaze stayed locked on her body. And as his eyes darkened, power pulsed in her veins. A power she’d never felt before. A power she possessed because of him.

“Rouhi—”

His hand cupped her breast, sent tingling sensations all through her torso. But she ignored it, instead focused on his waistband and the pants that were preventing her from reaching her destination.

Flipping the button, she scooted back, then pushed her hands inside the waistband and dragged the garment down his body.

He drew in a breath as she dropped the pants on the floor, then climbed back over him. Her gaze locked on his erection. Heavy. Hard. Pulsing. So very ready for her.

She wrapped her hand his shaft, reveled at the way he trembled, at the thickness in her palm, at the bead of fluid on the dark, purple tip. Lowering her head, she drew her tongue across his erection, tasting him, loving the way he groaned and flexed his hips, seeking out her mouth.

She took him deep, remembering how it had felt when he’d thrust into her mouth, how he’d tasted when he’d come. Her own desire amped as his eyes closed in a pleasure that darkened his features.

“Kavin…”

He was lost. She knew it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. But this time, she wanted to go over with him. Releasing him, she climbed up his body until her hands were braced on each side of his head and she was straddling his hips, his cock sliding through her wetness, making her shiver with the promise of impending pleasure.

He looked up with those fathomless eyes as he rested his hands on her hips. She pressed forward, just a touch, until the tip of his cock was braced at her opening. Braced to take her.

“Kavin…”

She lowered and took his mouth, just as her body took him in. She felt his hands at her waist, pressing against her in an attempt to hold her back, but she didn’t want that. She wanted to feel all of him. Hard. Hot. Deep. She wanted to know what it felt like to finally be his.

She pushed her hips down hard. Then gasped at the burn and tight fit she felt everywhere.

Holy shit… She pulled her mouth from his and dropped her forehead against his shoulder.

His arms closed around her; his breath feathered her temple. “Breathe, rouhi.”

She was trying to, but Allah, it hurt. More than she’d expected.

He kissed her temple, her cheek. His hands cupped her face as he pulled her mouth back to his. And then his leg was hooking over her hip, and he was rolling her to her back once more. A tear slipped from her eye, trailed down her temple. He kissed it away, moved back to her mouth, and kissed her again and again, until the burn turned into a dull ache, one that wasn’t so bad.

“So beautiful,” he whispered as his hand cupped her breast. “So incredibly sexy.”

She lost herself in his kisses, forgot about the ache, and knew only his mouth, his tongue, his body pressed into hers. That and the delicious heat, suddenly reigniting as his hands and mouth moved over her again and again.

“You feel so good around me,” he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her earlobe until she shivered. “So tight. So perfect.”

His husky words, his heated breath, and the way he seemed to know just where to touch her all coalesced until need overruled discomfort. Until desire replaced hesitation. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and groaned as he pinched her nipple, sending electric sensations straight to her sex. Easing her knees up, she lifted her hips, wanting…more. But he drew away. And the friction of his cock sliding out of her body caused a shiver to rush through her all over again. One followed by a gasp because it felt so good she didn’t want him to leave her…ever.

She gripped his shoulders, tried to pull him back. Couldn’t talk because his tongue was still deep in her mouth. And then he was there, pushing deep once more, making her groan at the erotic sensation, slowly increasing his thrusts until she was meeting every one and moaning when he hit that perfect spot.

Oh… This was what she’d wanted. This hard, full ache that made her entire body tingle. He pulled back, pressed in deeper. Bracing his hands on the mattress, he lifted his upper body from hers, keeping them joined only at the hips.

“Look, rouhi,” he said in a thick voice. “Look at me taking you. You’re mine. Just mine.”

Kavin gripped his forearms, glanced down her body to where they were joined, and watched as his cock disappeared inside her sex, then pulled out again, shiny from her arousal, only to disappear once more.

The visual was so erotic. Seeing what he was doing to her while feeling it at the same time... Her vision blurred. And his one word…mine…locked inside her mind.

Her skin grew hot. Tingles rushed through her whole body. She dropped her head back and groaned.

“Yes, Kavin. Yes…come with me.”

Her orgasm plowed into her. Swept her under. Consumed her from the inside out.

She felt him shudder. Heard him call her name. But it was distant. Muffled. All she could focus on were the rolling vibrations devouring her. Everywhere.

Slowly, sound returned. Her chest rose and fell with her uneven breaths. She heard Nasir’s heavy breathing. Registered his weight pressing her into the mattress and the slick skin of his arms against her hands.

Wow. That had been…better than she’d ever expected. Hotter, more intense, a thousand times more exciting than she’d imagined it could be. And when she thought of the way he’d called her his…

A smile curled her lips. She wrapped her arms around his back, kissed his temple. Kissed it again and shivered when she realized he was still inside her.

“I’m hurting you,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

She locked her leg around his hip before he could pull away. “I like you right where you are.”

He chuckled, then turned his head to press a gentle kiss against her throat. “Forceful all of a sudden. What have I done to you?”

“Not nearly enough.” She smiled as he lifted his upper body from hers so he could see her eyes. Trailed her hands up his strong chest to cup his face, then lifted so her mouth was next to his again. “I told you I wanted to try everything.”

His eyes darkened as she kissed him. But he didn’t kiss her back. “Kavin—”

“Don’t think, Nasir.” She licked the corner of his mouth. “We don’t have time for thinking.”

“There are things we need to discuss.”

“Later.” She hooked her leg over his and rolled him to his back once more. When she was on top, she braced her hands on his chest and grinned down at him. “Right now, I want you to make love to my breasts like you talked about earlier. And then I want you to make me come all over again. Any way you want.”

“Any way?”

Her smile widened as she watched whatever worry had stopped him before dissipate. She lowered her lips to his. “Every way, sahad. Tonight I’m yours.”

Chapter Twelve

Nasir lay on his side, his head perched on his hand as he stared down at Kavin, lying on her back on the narrow mattress, her face tipped his way, her eyelids closed in sleep.

Her chest rose and fell with her deep breaths, and the sheet lay low across her naked hips. Arousal stirred in his veins as his gaze swept the length of her body, but he fought it back, instead brushed a lock of curly hair from her cheek, marveled at the softness of her skin.

Asleep, she almost looked angelic. Which, considering she was djinn, wasn’t a great stretch. Angels and djinn were both created by Allah at the same time, before man. And since they were both supernatural beings, it made sense her beauty could best that of any angel. But where angels lacked desire and free will, djinn were creatures of choice. Sometimes that free will led them down a dark path, as it did many Shaitans and Ghuls and Infrit and…even himself. But sometimes it led to light and illumination and the sweetest feelings one could ever know.

Emotion stirred within him. Ones he hadn’t felt in years. Ones that were stronger than what he’d known before. He’d been fighting to stay alive since being brought here because he knew doing so enraged the highborns. But now…

He swallowed hard and trailed his finger across the corner of her mouth. Now he had something more important than revenge. More important than his own desire to live. Something deeper, he realized, than what he’d shared with Talah.

Her lashes fluttered, almost as if she sensed him thinking about her. And as her sleepy eyes opened, a slow, easy smile spread across her luscious lips. Lips he wanted to kiss and lick and taste all over again. “You’re not sleeping.”

“I don’t need much.”

She skimmed her hand over his bare chest, her touch igniting a rush of tingles he felt everywhere. “What have you been doing?”

“Watching you.”

She rolled her eyes in such a seductive way he wanted to kiss the expression from her face. “That can’t be very exciting.”

“You were quite entertaining.”

“I was?”

“You’re talkative in your sleep.”

Her eyes widened. “I was talking? What did I say?

He placed a hand on her hip, rolling her easily toward him. “Something about baths and water and more. I’m pretty sure you were moaning.”

Her cheeks turned bright pink, and she dropped her head against his chest, tucking her hands up next to her face. “How embarrassing.”

He chuckled and ran his hand up her naked spine. “You make the sexiest sounds when you’re enjoying yourself. What were you dreaming about?”

For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. Then she eased back just enough to lift her face to his. “Um. You. And the bath we took the other night.”

His blood heated. “You liked that, huh?”

“I loved that,” she whispered.

His pulse picked up when she lifted her mouth, when her lips skimmed his. And when her sexy little tongue licked across his bottom lip, the way he’d done to her earlier, he opened. His hand flexed against her hip as her tongue snaked into his mouth, as she tasted and explored, as she groaned and scooted even closer.

He wanted nothing more than to flip her to her stomach and wedge himself so deep inside her she forgot everything but him. But they had things to discuss now that she was awake. And even though she clearly wanted him again too, he didn’t want to hurt her. She had to be sore, and though he’d been gentle before, the next time he wasn’t entirely sure he could go slow and easy. Not with the raging hunger for her still burning inside him.

Breathless, he forced himself back. “Don’t look at me like that, rouhi.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes it very hard to resist you.”

“I don’t want you to resist me. I want you to take me again. I want you to”—she bit her lip—“fuck me.”

He sucked in a breath at the visual her words created. “Rouhi—”

She leaned in and kissed him again. A kiss that left him light-headed and achingly hard. Then she sighed. “If you really want me to stop teasing you, I guess I will.”

Never stop. Ever...

She rolled away, then scooted back until her ass was nestled against his groin and her back was plastered to his chest. “How’s this? Better?”

His hand landed on her hip again. He looked down at her pale skin pressed up tight to his much-darker flesh. Felt the curve of her sweet ass against his throbbing erection.

Yes. No. Allah, he couldn’t think when she was so close. “Um…”

She giggled, tucked her hands under her head. “I like it.” On another sigh, she relaxed against him. “Why do you think your mu’allim gave us this room?”

At the moment, Nasir didn’t care. All he could focus on was the press of her ass against his cock. The way the slightest shift of her hips made him want to groan. The smile in her voice as she teased him. Sliding his hand across her bare belly, then up to cup her breasts, he lowered and pressed a kiss to her throat. “I don’t know. But I think he likes you.”

“He does?”

“Uh-huh.” He nipped at her ear. “Kicked my ass when he thought I’d hurt you. That’s how I got the wound.”

She looked over her shoulder. “From Malik?”

“That surprises you?”

Her brow furrowed, then slowly, she laid her head back down on the pillow. “Yes, actually. I’m nothing to him. Why would he care what you do to me?”

He pulled her tighter back against him, loving the heat of her body against his groin, even if it did ignite him to within degrees of boiling. “I heard a story right after I came here. About a great sahad who’d been champion for over a hundred years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“He was an animal. Decimated anything they threw at him. Other sahads would tremble simply at his name. The way the story goes, he and his lover had been captured together. He’d been sentenced to the pits, and she…well…she’d been of such blinding beauty, she’d been taken to the harem.”

Kavin’s upper body turned back toward him. “But if she wasn’t a virgin—”

“I don’t think it mattered,” he said softly, kissing her nose. “A slave is a slave. If they’d wanted the female, they’d have taken her.” Sickness rolled through his stomach at the thought, but he forced it aside. “The way the story goes, she couldn’t handle it. Life without him. She killed herself before he could figure out a way to free her.”

Kavin’s eyes slid closed, and she turned back, lowering once more to the pillow. “I know this story.”

“You do?”

She nodded, but he couldn’t see her eyes. Couldn’t tell what she was feeling. “I heard about her in the harem. It was a warning to me, I think. But I didn’t know about the sahad. He went on to fight?”

“They say he fought for her, even in death. That it gave him power to defy his captors.”

Silence settled between them, then she said, “Do you believe that’s true?”

He thought about everything that had happened between them since the moment she’d been brought to him. What he’d been before, and what he was now. And felt those emotions roll stronger through his chest. “I believe love is a powerful force. It can give you strength you didn’t know you had. Sometimes when you need it most.”

She was silent so long he wasn’t sure if he’d said the right thing or not. Then, quietly, she said, “It was him, wasn’t it? The sahad? It was Malik.”

He tightened his arm around her. Pressed his chin against her neck. “I think so. I don’t know for sure, but when he thought I’d hurt you…I’ve never seen him so enraged. Females in our tribe, they’re worshiped, not treated as property.”

“Our?” She turned her head again. “Are you saying—”

“Malik is Marid. He showed me that day. He keeps his lineage carefully cloaked with magic, so the highborns won’t know what he is. But if he was that champion… A hundred years is a long time. Unrest in the ruling class here is high, especially with the wars the Ghuls wage. It’s entirely possible the highborns in control of Jahannam now are not the ones who were in control when he was first brought here as a slave.”

“Why would he stay? If it’s true…if he’s risen to the rank of mu’allim and he’s harnessed his magic, he could easily escape.”

“I don’t know.” But Nasir had an idea. He guessed Malik stayed because it was the only way he could be close to his love, even after all this time. And because training others to stay alive was one more slap in the face to the highborns who’d imprisoned him from the start and taken his heart.

“I think this is his room,” Nasir said, tucking his chin against her again, holding on to her warmth. “I think he wanted you to have something nicer than that cell of mine for your first time. It’s not a palace, by any means, but it is a hell of a lot nicer than that cave.”

She lowered her hand to his against her belly and squeezed. “I would make love with you in a cave. I’d make love with you anywhere.”

Arousal stirred in his groin again at her words, and warmth encircled his heart. “You have to admit the bath, though, is a nice perk.”

She chuckled, and the sound was so sweet it eased the tension in his chest. Eased the worry over what he had to do tomorrow.

Silence settled back between them. Then, very softly, she said, “When I was in the harem, the others would talk about you. They say those from your tribe tend to be of even temperament. That it takes a lot to push a Marid from soldier to sahad. That most don’t survive, because killing isn’t in their blood. But Malik became one. And so did you. So I’m just wondering…who did you lose?”

Nasir’s hand paused against the underside of her breast. “What makes you think I lost someone?”

Kavin shrugged but didn’t turn to look at him. “You talk about love as if you know. And being with you these last few days, I know you’re not a monster. Not like the highborns would have me and everyone else believe. You don’t like the killing. And yet you do it.”

Surprise rippled through him. That she was so easily able to see to the heart of him when no one else ever had. Not even Talah.

“So who was she?” Kavin asked softly.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he trailed his finger up her bare arm, then back down again. He’d never told anyone about Talah. Not even his brothers. But he didn’t want to keep anything from Kavin. Not now. “A caregiver. She worked with children injured and orphaned in the wars. Helped rehabilitate them and find homes.”

Kavin was silent beside him, the only sound the gentle push and pull of her breath while she waited for him to go on. And the fact she wasn’t pushing spurred him to continue. “We got word Ghuls were heading toward her village. I was being sent out with the army to meet them. I told her to go to the castle—that she’d be safe there. She agreed, reluctantly, but said she needed to arrange for someone to take her place at the infirmary. I wasn’t happy about her delay but agreed to give her the time. I left a guard with her and resumed my post. She never made it to the castle.” His throat grew thick as he stared at a mole on her shoulder. “A band of Ghuls we didn’t know about attacked from the north before she could get away.”

Her hand closed over his against her arm. “I’m so sorry.”

Talah’s face flashed in his mind. Smiling and waving as he left, her long dark hair flying behind her in the wind. Rolling her eyes at what she considered his overprotective nature. Never knowing it would be the last moments of her life.

“It wasn’t your fault, Nasir.”

Kavin’s breath against his cheek brought his eyes open. She’d turned to face him, her eyes warm and shining with unshed tears, her hands resting gently against his chest. Emotions stole through him. Emotions that were so much stronger than he’d felt with Talah they took his breath away.

“I don’t fight to avenge her death,” he said in a thick voice. “The Ghuls who manage the pits are not the ones who killed her. I fight—I fought—because it was all I had left. Until I met you.”

Her entire face softened. And those eyes that before had simply glistened, now filled with tears.

He kissed the tip of her nose. Kissed the teardrop that slipped from the corner of her eye. Kissed his way down to her mouth, then finally pressed his lips against hers. Softly. Gently. Hoping she could feel every emotion stirring inside him.

He wrapped his arm around her, dragged her body closer, then rested his forehead against hers. “It’s crazy—all of this. But in a few short days, you’ve changed everything for me. You made me remember who I was. You gave me a reason to want to live. I’m not going to let them hurt you. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

Her mouth closed over his so forcefully it tore a groan from his chest. She pushed him to his back, climbed over him, kissed him again and again and again as if she couldn’t get enough.

The sheet fell away, leaving her bare and beautiful. He trailed his hands up her hips, positioned her so she was rocking against his cock, right where he wanted her most. Eased up to kiss her deeper. “Mine,” he mumbled against her lips. “You’re mine.”

“Show me,” she whispered, lifting then lowering to take him so deep they both groaned. “One more time. Show me that I’m only yours.”

Chapter Thirteen

Nasir waited until Kavin fell asleep again, then gently eased out from under her.

His body still vibrated from the most amazing orgasm; his heart pounded hard at the things she’d whispered as they’d made love. But it was what he had to do next that left a hole the size of a crater in the bottom of his stomach.

He pulled on his pants and crossed soundlessly toward the door. Once there, he rapped on the hard wood once, knowing the guards were out there keeping watch.

“What?” a voice called from the other side of the door.

“I have a request,” Nasir said quietly.

The small rectangular slot in the door opened, just enough so Nasir could see the guard’s dark eyes. “What kind of request?”

“I want to meet with the female’s master. Before my fight.”

The guard turned to look toward his companion, just out of Nasir’s line of sight, and relayed the message. When he turned back, he said, “He’ll not agree.”

Nasir ground his teeth. “If he wants the fire opal around my neck, he’ll agree.”

Surprise reflected in the guard’s dark eyes. His gaze snapped to the opal at Nasir’s throat. After several long seconds of silence, he harrumphed and closed the window with a snap.

They hadn’t said no. Nasir turned slowly and looked toward Kavin on the bed. This was his only shot. They had to take the bait. All the highborns wanted the opal. They’d tried to take it from him when he’d first arrived but hadn’t been able to remove it from his neck. None knew where it came from, but they lined their sahads up to fight Nasir in the ring because the one who killed him would then own the mysterious opal. So far, none had been successful.

He crossed back to the bed, sat beside her, and brushed the curls back from her face. She lay on her stomach, her arms up near her head, her eyes closed in deep sleep. He hated to wake her, hated to start this day that would likely be his last. But he didn’t want her master to find her naked in his bed. Didn’t want to give the son of a bitch any reason to hurt her more than he already had.

“Kavin, wake up.” He ran his hand down her hair, across the smooth skin of her back. “Wake up, princess.”

He’d like nothing better than to make her his princess. But that was another life. Not this one. The best he could hope for was that once she was free, someday she could find happiness. And maybe remember what little time they’d been able to spend together, even if it was in a hellhole.

She grunted, stirred, finally blinked and looked up at him with that sleepy, sexy, so-damn-erotic look, he wished he could see it again. Tomorrow morning. And the morning after that. Thousands of mornings after that.

He forced a smile. “Good morning.”

Her eyes widened, then she jerked up on her hands and looked toward the window above them. “It’s morning?”

She knew what this morning was going to bring. He just hoped he was able to stop it.

“Kavin, we need to talk.”

She flipped to sitting and pulled the sheet up around her, her wide, very aware eyes looking all around the room.

He picked up her dress where they’d dropped it last night and handed it to her, trying like hell not to let his own fear show. “I’m fighting today.”

She stopped her frantic movements with the dress around her neck. “What?” Her gaze dropped to his side and the wound that was still red and irritated, but, thanks to her, closed. “You’re still weak from your injury. They can’t make you fight yet. They—”

“They can do whatever they want.” He helped her pull the dress down. “I’m a slave, remember?”

“But—”

He captured her hands before she could push from the bed. “It’s my job, rouhi.”

Her eyes hardened, and he watched determination creep across her perfect features. “Then kill them. Kill every single one they throw at you.”

Allah, he loved this female. It wasn’t even a question anymore. And it didn’t matter that she was Ghul and he was Marid or that they’d only known each other a few days. He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone before. And he knew, without a doubt, that he was making the right choice. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“What?” she asked quietly.

He drew a deep breath, one he hoped would give him strength, but realized in the silence between them he didn’t need. He already had it, because of her. “If something were to happen to me, Malik will take possession of the fire opal. Whatever happens then, do as he says.”

“I don’t understand.”

No, of course she wouldn’t. And he couldn’t tell her. Because if she knew, she’d try to stop him. He tightened his hands around hers. “Just promise me you’ll do as he says.”

“Nasir—”

Footsteps echoed out in the hall, followed by voices. Several.

Nasir’s pulse sped up. He was running out of time. The one commodity he’d had more than enough of up until now.

He leaned in, kissed her when her frightened eyes darted toward the door, then rested his forehead against hers. “You were right, I hate the fighting. More than anything about this place. But I’ll do it for you. I’d do anything for you. I can’t ever thank you enough for bringing me back from the brink.”

Tears welled in her eyes as the voices grew louder outside. She ran her hand down his cheek. “Oh, Nasir. I—”

He didn’t let her finish. He closed his mouth over hers as keys rattled in the door and kissed her one last time. Drew her deep into his mind and heart and soul where she’d live forever. Then gathered every ounce of strength he had left and pushed from the bed to cross to the far side of the room. Away from her. Away from probing eyes he didn’t want to witness their last moment together.

He watched as she swiped the tears from her cheeks, then squared her shoulders and stared at the door in silence. And he remembered what she’d told him last night. How she’d sacrificed herself for the slave girl that son of a bitch highborn had threatened.

She was stronger than he’d given her credit for that first day. In so many ways—in all the ways that mattered—tougher than him, because he knew whatever happened, she wouldn’t lose herself the way he had. Awe rippled through him. Awe and wonder and pride that curled one side of his lips. He had nothing to offer her, and she had no reason to want him, but she did. And he was the luckiest son of a bitch for having known her.

The door pushed open, killing his smile. The guard moved out of the way, then bodies filled the space. His mu’allim. The slave girl who’d repeatedly come for Kavin. And finally, the piece-of-shit highborn who owned her.

The highborn’s hard gaze snapped from Nasir, leaning against the wall near the bath, to Kavin. And when he took in her rumpled hair and the indent on her cheek from a fold on the sheet, a malicious grin spread across his disgusting face.

“Take her back to the harem,” he said to the slave girl.

Kavin didn’t speak as the girl slowly approached the bed. But their eyes met. And something Nasir couldn’t read passed between them.

She pushed up on shaky legs. Every instinct said to reach out for her, but Nasir held his ground and resisted. Because if this didn’t go as he hoped, he didn’t want to do anything to give the highborn any more reason to punish her.

Please, please, please let him take the bait.

The highborn watched her leave the room, and when he looked back at Nasir, victory flashed in his dark eyes. A victory Nasir wanted to smash to ruin with his fists.

The highborn smirked. “It doesn’t look like I need to ask if she finally completed her test. Tell me, was she good? All that fire inside her, I bet once you finally got a piece of her, she was a mighty fine fuck.”

At his side, Malik shifted his feet, clasped his hands behind his back in clear discomfort, but didn’t so much as utter a sound.

Nasir ground his teeth to keep from popping the dickhead right between the eyeballs. He could take this fucker out in ten seconds, snap his neck, save their realm from his torment, but if he did, he’d be condemning Kavin. And nothing was worth that. “I’m willing to make you a deal.”

The highborn snorted and turned for the door. “I don’t make deals with slaves.”

“You’ll deal with this slave. I’m offering you the opal.”

The highborn paused at the threshold, glanced back over his shoulder with curious eyes. “What kind of deal?”

He had him. Relief filled Nasir’s chest. Now he just had to hope Malik backed him up. “I’m scheduled to fight the Shaitan today. The one that arrived last week. If you can arrange it so I fight your Infrit instead, I’ll guarantee your sahad’s victory.”

“Sahad,” Malik muttered in warning. But Nasir and the highborn both ignored him.

Interest flared in the highborn’s eyes as he turned back to fully face Nasir. “Why is the great champion suddenly suicidal? What’s in it for you besides death?”

“Peace of mind.”

The highborn’s eyes narrowed. “How so?”

“If you arrange it, the fight is yours. And the opal. But only if you grant the jarriah’s freedom upon my death.”

“By Allah…” Malik muttered.

The highborn stared at him so long Nasir wasn’t sure what he was thinking, then a slow, shameless smile spread across his face. “She got to you. I knew she was of great value the first time I laid eyes on her. You did too, obviously.”

Nasir wasn’t about to discuss Kavin with this prick. He clenched his jaw without answering.

Take the deal. Take the deal. Take the fucking deal…

The highborn rubbed a hand across his chin. “What guarantee do you have that I’ll hold to my half of the bargain? Once you’re dead, the opal belongs to me anyway.”

“Not exactly. My master is one of great power. In her stead, my mu’allim has the final say in all matters pertaining to me. The opal’s bound to me by magic—and only he has the power to give it to you once I’m dead. As soon as he has confirmation the jarriah is free of you and this city, he’ll hand it over to you.”

The highborn turned to Malik. “Is this true?”

Malik’s jaw clenched. And anger brewed in his gaze as his eyes held Nasir’s. “Yes,” he said without turning toward the highborn. “It is true.”

The highborn didn’t look pleased when he faced Nasir again. “So I arrange the change to the fights, you die in the arena, then I free the jarriah, and the opal is mine.”

“And the glory for taking out the great champion,” Nasir added, knowing that would seal the deal. “Imagine the envy you’ll be amongst the other highborns.”

He hadn’t meant to sound as if he was mocking the son of a bitch, but he was, and the highborn knew it. His eyes narrowed and filled with contempt.

Take the deal. Take the damn deal…

Seconds drew out in silence. Long, agonizing seconds in which Nasir held his breath and waited. And hoped. And prayed.

Finally, the highborn said, “Fine. You have a deal. Just make your death look good. If you go down without a fight, our deal is broken. Die like the champion you are, or I’ll fuck that bitch a hundred ways to sundown.”

He turned for the door.

“Don’t touch her,” Nasir said in a hard voice. One that stopped the highborn’s feet. “If you or anyone else does before I’m dead, the deal is off. And I’ll find you from the grave. I guarantee it, you prick.”

The highborn didn’t turn. Didn’t look Nasir’s way. But the tightening of his shoulders told Nasir he’d heard the threat loud and clear. He stomped out of the room without another word.

When the highborn’s footsteps could no longer be heard echoing from the corridor, Malik barked to the guards, “Out. Both of you.”

The guards hesitated, but when Malik shot them a hard glare, they scrambled out the door and closed it at their backs.

In their wake, Malik’s eyes blazed. “What the fuck was that? Are you mad? What the hell are you thinking?”

Nasir sagged back against the stone wall, his heart racing with the remnants of an adrenaline rush that was now leaving him weak. And hopeful. “The only thing I can do.”

“The Infrit hasn’t been trained yet. He’s no match for you on a good day. He’s insane, I’ll give you that, but you could take him down with your eyes closed.”

Nasir ran his hand through his hair, remembering Kavin’s fingers doing the same last night. He drew a deep breath, knowing he was doing the right thing, and met Malik’s hard eyes. “I’m saving the female I love. I know you would have done the same if you could.”

Malik’s jaw tightened. Then he muttered, “Motherfucker. She’s a Ghul. You barely know her.”

His mu’allim wasn’t changing his mind. “You saw the same strength in her I did. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have helped her.”

Malik’s lips thinned. But behind the spark of fury in his eyes, Nasir saw he agreed. “She won’t let you do this.”

“She’s not to know.” Nasir straightened from the wall. “I want her out of this hellhole, Malik, and I’ll do anything to set her free. But I need your help. This will only work if you agree. I know you don’t want what happened to your female to happen to her.”

Malik’s eyes were as hard and cold as Nasir had ever seen them. Everything hinged on his support. If he was pissed Nasir hadn’t consulted him about his plans, if he’d lost his compassion after all these years as a slave, Kavin was lost.

“She wasn’t just my female,” Malik finally said in a low voice. “She was my wife. And yes, I’d have done anything to free her, even give up my own life for her, if I’d been able to.”

Nasir’s pulse pounded hard as he waited. As he hoped.

“I’ll help her,” Malik said softly.

Relief was as sweet as wine, zipping through Nasir’s veins. He reached out and clamped a hand over Malik’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He nodded at the opal around Nasir’s throat. “That thing is bound to you by magic. I don’t know if I’ll be able to direct it.”

On this, Nasir knew he was safe. When I’m dead, the chain will release. It binds me to a sorceress, one of great power.”

“A sorceress?” Malik asked in surprise.

Nasir nodded, not about to get into the hows and whys of how that had come to be. “Whoever wears it will be bound to her will, as was I. I don’t know why she’s waiting, but at some point, she’ll call the opal back. And with it, the bearer.”

A slow smile slinked across Malik’s weathered face. One Nasir had never seen. One that lit up his eyes and made him look years younger. “Clever move, sahad.”

One corner of Nasir’s mouth curled in response. In a matter of hours, he’d be dead, Kavin would be free, and that prick master of hers would be Zoraida’s next slave. There would be justice this day.

He dropped his hand and focused on Malik’s eyes. “Let’s hope so. Now, tell me about the Infrit I’m to fight.”

* * *

Kavin’s hands shook as she bathed quickly and dressed in the gown Hana held out to her.

She stood in the center of the marble bath in her suite at the harem as the violet silk slid down her body. Behind her, Hana smoothed out her skirts and closed the few buttons at the back. They hadn’t spoken as Hana had escorted her back to the harem, and every time Kavin had tried to meet the girl’s eyes, she’d looked away. But Kavin had too many other things to worry about than what the girl was thinking or feeling. All she could focus on was the fact Nasir was fighting today.

Her pulse picked up speed, and her hands trembled as she waited for Hana to finish. She didn’t care what Zayd did to her anymore. Hadn’t thought once about facing him again after her night with Nasir. She just needed to know that Nasir was okay. She needed him to live.

“There,” Hana said in a quiet voice. “You’re done.”

Kavin turned to face the girl. Her eyes were downcast, her hands clenched in front of her. Kavin knew she was thinking about what had happened yesterday in Zayd’s room. Remembering the story Hana had told her before she’d been sent to Nasir, Kavin couldn’t stop her heart from going out to the girl. “They won’t touch you again. I made sure of it. You don’t have to worry.”

“I…” Hana’s voice broke, and when she lifted her eyes, they brimmed with tears. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay you. I acted so superior to you before, and I shouldn’t have. I…we’re all just slaves.”

Nasir had told her the same thing. But Kavin didn’t believe that mattered. Not anymore. “Hana—”

The door to the bathroom pushed open. Kavin whipped around to find Zayd standing in the doorway, eyeing her with hard, cold, unreadable eyes.

“You’re escorting me to the arena today. Your sahad is fighting, and I’m told it’s going to be a spectacular show. One you won’t want to miss.” To Hana, he said, “Be sure she’s properly made up. I want everyone to know she’s my newest jarriah. Including the great champion.”

The way he snarled the last words set Kavin’s nerves on edge. What had been said between them after she’d left Nasir’s cell? The victory in Zayd’s voice was more than just gloating over the fact she was finally his. Something else was going on.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

A shiver of foreboding rushed down her spine as Hana tugged her toward the vanity. “Come. We don’t have much time.”

Kavin’s head spun as she sat on the tufted ottoman, and Hana began fiddling with her hair. But all she could see were Nasir’s soft eyes. All she heard was his gentle voice. Telling her again and again that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

She gripped Hana’s hand so hard the girl yelped. “Listen to me. You said you didn’t know how you could repay me. I know how you can. But I need you to do it now. You have to go to the pits. You have to find the sahad’s mu’allim before the fight.”

“But the master said—”

“Fuck Zayd!” Kavin said, squeezing Hana’s hand tighter, causing the girl’s eyes to go bug-wide. “I don’t care what he said. Nasir’s planning something. And I can’t—won’t—let him do it. Hana, you’re the only one who can stop this. He doesn’t deserve what’s about to happen to him any more than you deserved what those guards did to you. All life has value. Regardless of tribe or race or gender. Please…please do this for me.”

Fear rushed over Hana’s face but was slowly replaced with a strength she seemed to pull from the very heart of her. She swallowed once and nodded. “O-okay. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Options, scenarios raced through Kavin’s mind. How could she stop this? She didn’t even know what Nasir was planning, but she had to prevent him from doing something that would get him killed. Would Malik listen to her servant? And what if he bought into the same bullshit the highborns had been spewing for years—that all sahads were the same? Monsters better locked in cages. Sent to fight like dogs. He worked with them every day. He knew way more about them than she did.

Her adrenaline surged. She had to try. She just hoped Nasir was right and there was a shadow of the djinni Malik had once been somewhere left inside him. “Get me paper and pen. And hurry.”

Chapter Fourteen

Nasir paced the stone cell beneath the arena and shook out his arms, his legs, tried to relax his muscles in anticipation of what was to come.

Booms echoed from above, followed by shouts and cheers as the crowd grew more excited. His was the main event. The last fight of the day. So far, four matches had already been completed. From the sounds of the fifth, he’d be up in a matter of minutes.

“Death comes to us all at one point. You can’t stop it…”

His feet paused on the hard stones. Talah was right. He couldn’t stop it. But he could delay it…at least for Kavin.

His heart warmed when he thought of her, easing the anxiety inside, telling him no matter what, this was the right choice. The only choice.

The door to the cell pulled open just as he was remembering her fingers on his skin, her lips against his, the breathless sound of her voice last night when they’d made love. He turned to find Malik’s grim face staring at him from across the room. “They’re ready for you.”

His pulse picked up speed. He drew in a deep breath, nodded once, and stepped toward the door.

At the archway, Malik stopped him with a hand on his arm. Right over the slave marking branded into his skin. The one he’d gotten when Zoraida had first banished him to the pits. At the time, it had been the worst sentence he could imagine. Now he was so very thankful for the time he’d spent here.

“It’s all arranged,” Malik said in a low voice so the guards couldn’t hear. “After the fight, your body will be brought to me. When I have confirmation Kavin has been freed, I’ll give the opal to Zayd.”

Gratitude tightened Nasir’s throat. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be going through with this asinine plan. You do more damage to the Ghuls alive than you ever will in death.”

In that moment, Nasir knew he’d been right as to why Malik stayed in this hellhole. And why he’d taken a special interest in Nasir from the beginning. Without Malik’s training, Nasir would have been dead weeks ago.

Malik moved out of the way. Nasir’s skin tingled as he stepped out into the corridor where the guards waited to escort him to the arena. In a rush, he thought of his parents in Gannah, of his brothers—Tariq and Ashur, still imprisoned by Zoraida. He didn’t know what had happened to them after he’d been brought here, didn’t know if his kingdom was doomed to fall or if war had finally reached its gates. All he knew for sure was that Malik was wrong. His death would prove that one life was not more important than another. It didn’t matter that Kavin was Ghul, female, or a slave. Her master would forever know that her life had value.

His feet faltered when he spotted the slave girl who had repeatedly come to his cell for Kavin, and his adrenaline surged as he looked past the girl for Kavin’s red hair. But the hall behind her was empty. Only the drip of water and the muffled roar of the crowd above met his ears.

He looked back at the girl. Wary eyes met his. She chewed on her thumbnail, then turned away so he couldn’t see her face.

A shiver of worry rushed down Nasir’s spine as the guards pushed him forward. “Come on, maggot. They’re waiting for you.”

Nasir’s adrenaline surged as they forced him away from her. What was she doing there? Had she come to tell him something? Where the hell was Kavin?

His pulse was a roar in his ears by the time he reached the gate to the arena. The cheers were louder, the chant, “Marid! Marid! Marid!” echoing in his ears.

He held his chained hands in front of him, waited while the guard unlocked his cuffs, then took the two swords they held out. The gate opened. Instinctively, he stepped back as a bloodied, decapitated body was pulled through the opening.

He couldn’t be sure since he wasn’t allowed to train with the others, but he was pretty sure that was the Shaitan he’d been scheduled to fight.

Who was he? What had he done? He didn’t deserve to be condemned to this hellhole any more than Nasir did. Any more than Kavin did. Any more than any of them did.

His heart pounded hard against his ribs. The roar of the crowd grew louder. The guard to his right hollered, “Go!” and opened the gate wide.

Nasir stepped into the arena, frantically searching the stands above for Kavin. Multicolored scarves billowed in the air. Angry and excited faces stared down at him, mouths open as they screamed his name, arms raised as they pumped their fists as if they were the athletes about to fight.

He couldn’t find her.

Anxiety rippled through his veins as he turned a slow circle, looking, searching, needing to see with his own two eyes that she was alive. That she wasn’t hurt. That the son of a bitch hadn’t harmed her.

Kavin…

The crowd grew more excited at his back. Without even looking, Nasir knew the Infrit had been brought into the arena, but he couldn’t stop looking.

And then he spotted her. Five rows up, to the left of the main gate. The same gate he’d just walked through.

Relief swirled in his blood as he took her in. A lavender gown graced her curves, her red hair piled on her head in some fashionable updo, and she was wearing way more makeup than he’d ever seen—painted up like a porcelain doll. But even though her face was lined with stress and worry, to him, she’d never been more beautiful.

He drew in a deep breath. Then another. Locked eyes with her and hoped she heard his thoughts even though he couldn’t say them aloud.

I love you.

Her eyes softened, and then her face tightened, and her mouth opened to…scream his name.

It took a split second to realize she was seeing something over his shoulder. On instinct, he lifted his swords and whipped around. The Infrit was coming right at him, a menacing fury alive in his black eyes, his hatchet swinging out in an arc, ready to take Nasir’s head in one fell swoop.

The crowd exploded in exhilaration. Nasir lifted his sword to block the blow. Metal met metal, the clash echoing through the air to fuel their cheers. Nasir ducked under the Infrit’s hatchet, somersaulted across the sand of the arena, and jumped to his feet.

The Infrit was bigger than Nasir expected, at least a foot taller than him and a good fifty pounds heavier. Long dark hair hung to the middle of his back, and his skin was shades darker than Nasir’s. But he was slow, his size no advantage. Not when Nasir was so easily able to avoid each blow and dance around the giant.

“If you go down without a fight, our deal is broken.”

From the corner of his vision, Nasir caught sight of Kavin’s frightened face as his sword clapped against the Infrit’s weapon. Of the tense features of her master lounging next to her, waiting, watching, expecting.

Nasir focused on the Infrit with renewed purpose, braced his foot against the giant’s belly, and shoved hard, sending him staggering back. Before the Infrit could right himself, Nasir arced out with his blade and caught the djinni across the ribs.

The Infrit roared. His eyes widened with shock and pain, then dialed in on Nasir with a menacing rage. He found his footing and charged.

Shit. Nasir shuffled backward. The Infrit swung his weapon. Nasir deflected it with his sword, but the Infrit was stronger, and through sheer muscle strength knocked the sword right out of Nasir’s grip. The weapon flew through the arena to land on the sand some fifteen feet away.

Pain radiated up Nasir’s side. A quick look down confirmed he’d torn his wound open. He might not have to make this look good after all. Tossing his remaining sword to the other hand, Nasir eased back several steps. “Come on, you brute. Is that all you’ve got?”

The Infrit’s eyes turned red. He growled, then swung out with his blade. Nasir jumped back. The tip of the Infrit’s weapon caught him across the belly. Blood welled, but it wasn’t deep. Nasir shifted to the side and caught the Infrit across the right bicep.

A howl echoed from the Infrit. When he turned, Nasir ducked his head and did a forward roll right through the giant’s legs, then sliced into the djinni’s flesh, just above the knee.

Blood gushed. His wound wasn’t deep either, but it was enough to bring the crowd to their feet. They screamed as the Infrit dropped to his knee. Sweat dripped into Nasir’s eyes as he circled around the giant, looking for an opportunity to let the sahad get the upper hand.

“Make your death look good.”

He intended to. As the giant slowly pushed to his feet, Nasir glanced at Kavin in the crowd. Worry shone in her eyes. Worry and fear and love. A love that would carry him into the next world, wherever that may be.

He drew a deep breath, turned away from her, and watched as the Infrit rose to his full height, easily seven feet tall. At one point, back when he’d been just a soldier, he might have been scared by this beast, but not today.

“They’re waiting for you to die, Infrit,” he said, mocking the djinni, knowing it would fire him up and give Kavin’s master exactly what he wanted. He turned the hilt of the sword in his hand. “Can’t you hear them?”

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

“You’re wrong, Marid,” the Infrit growled. “They’re waiting for your death.”

Instead of swinging out with his weapon, the giant charged. Nasir barely had time to brace himself. The Infrit plowed into him, hurling his body back and to the ground. Nasir landed with a grunt on his back. Pain radiated up his spine. He tried to lift his arm, but the Infrit was suddenly above him, pressing against Nasir’s stomach, holding him still.

“Don’t move,” the giant growled.

The crowd gasped, then went eerily silent.

Confused as to what was happening, Nasir looked down, and his eyes widened at the crimson blood spilling from his belly around the Infrit’s weapon sticking straight out of his gut.

How…? When…?

His gaze lifted. He didn’t feel as if he’d been skewered, but then maybe he was in shock. This was what was supposed to happen, but why all of a sudden didn’t it feel right?

“Don’t move, you asshole,” the Infrit growled again. “I’m trying to help you here.”

Help him? Did he know about the deal? Had Malik told him? Nasir’s head grew light, and he tilted his chin up so he could look into the crowd. Kavin was somewhere behind him. He wanted to see her face. Needed to look upon her one last time…

“Stay down,” the Infrit said in a low voice, his hand pressing harder into Nasir’s shoulders. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t move until we tell you to.”

We?

Nasir stopped searching for Kavin and instead looked at the Infrit, pushing off him, dust and sand kicking up around his feet. The giant turned toward the crowd, held his arms out wide, and roared through his victory.

The crowd remained eerily silent.

The Infrit dropped his arms, turned and picked up Nasir’s sword, which was lying on the ground a foot from his hand. And as Nasir watched the giant lift it over his head, readying the killing blow, his instincts screamed Get up! Defend yourself! But then he thought of Kavin. Of everything she’d done for him. Of the fact that without her, he’d still be only a shell of the djinni he used to be.

He drew a deep breath. Readied himself.

The Infrit grinned. The fucker actually grinned. “Watch this.”

Then he turned toward the crowd, zeroed in on something above Nasir and hurled the sword as hard as he could.

Right toward the area where Kavin was standing.

Chapter Fifteen

“No!”

A red haze descended over Nasir’s vision. He lurched to his feet and threw his weight into the Infrit. The giant went down with a grunt, sand flying out all around his sweaty body. Nasir nailed him hard in the jaw with his fist, then scrambled to his feet, searching, looking…

Spectators screamed. A mass exodus was taking place in the stands. He couldn’t find Kavin. If the Infrit had hit her…

And then he saw her, being dragged by the hair up the steps toward the upper concourse, fighting against the hold her master had on her while frightened spectators rushed around in a frenzy.

She was alive. She hadn’t been hit. She…

The highborn paused at the top step and shot Nasir a brutal glare. Kavin screamed, but it was the blood welling from the highborn’s shoulder that stopped Nasir’s breath. Blood from the wound the Infrit had inflicted when he’d hit the piece of shit with Nasir’s sword.

Holy fuck…

His muscles bunched. He looked down at his own body, and his eyes widened when he realized there was no gaping hole. No injury from the Infrit’s weapon other than a few scratches.

Shouts and the sounds of heavy footfalls drew his attention toward the main gate before he could figure out what was happening. At least twenty guards were spilling into the arena with weapons drawn.

Shit. Shit!

He searched the ground for his other sword. What the hell had the moron done? He’d tried to kill his own master in front of the entire city. They were both going to burn for this. It didn’t matter what had happened during their match or who’d thrown the blade into the crowd. If the guards didn’t kill them first, the highborns would execute them both simply for the fun of it. And Kavin…

He caught sight of his sword halfway across the arena just as the giant was pushing himself to his feet.

“Some gratitude you’ve got,” the Infrit growled.

“Gratitude? Fuck that.” He had to get to Kavin. He had to find her before…

His feet skidded to a stop near his weapon. He picked it up, then froze when the gates on the other side of the arena opened and at least thirty sahads—djinn of all races—each armed, their eyes glowing hot with the promise of retribution, filled the space. Sahads led by Malik.

Nasir stared, unable to believe what he was seeing. Before he could ask what the hell was going on, the Infrit picked up his weapon, lifted it over his head, and yelled, “For freedom!”

The pack charged right by Nasir, weapons and fists and bodies clashing with the guards in an echo that filled the arena and drowned out the screams of spectators still rushing out of the stands.

Malik met him in the center of the arena, lifted his sword, and took down a guard just before he reached Nasir.

“What the hell is happening?” Nasir yelled over the roar.

Malik kicked the guard to the ground and pulled his bloody sword from the guard’s belly. “Something that should have happened long ago. Find her. Get her the hell out of here before they send reinforcements.”

Nasir’s chest grew tight as things suddenly made sense. They’d done all this for him. Malik had cast an illusion spell to distract the crowd. Then he’d rallied the sahads—djinn who didn’t even know Nasir personally, who hated his race—and staged a revolt.

His head swam with the impact of what they were doing. Of what would happen to them all as a result.

Malik grasped his shoulder, dragging his attention back to his mu’allim’s face. “Find her and get the hell out of here. But when you’re free, make sure you tell the others…anyone who will listen, all the tribes…what’s happening here. I should have done that long ago, but I couldn’t. Be stronger than I was, Nasir.” His eyes hardened as the battle raged around them. “Then bring your army back and shut this fucking hellhole down.”

Wide-eyed, Nasir nodded.

Malik took a step back. Lifted his sword. Screamed, “Go!”

Then he whipped around and swung out at a guard only feet behind him.

Nasir’s adrenaline surged. And as the sounds of war erupted around him, he thought of Kavin. The need to find her squeezed his chest like a vise, pushing out all other needs. Grasping his weapon, he raced toward the stands and easily scaled the ten-foot wall. His thighs burned as he ran up the steps and out the archway he’d seen Kavin and her master disappear through, but he ignored the pain and focused only on her.

The hallway was filled with terror-filled highborns, both male and female, rushing every direction, trying to get out of the arena. Only slaves had their powers bound, which meant these djinn could teleport if they wanted. But not through solid stone walls. They had to be outside first.

Nasir searched the frightened faces, then zeroed in on a dark-haired male he’d seen sitting near Kavin and her master. He pushed through the crowd and grasped the jacket of the male, jerking him around.

The male’s horror-filled eyes met Nasir’s. “Don’t…don’t…don’t hurt me.”

“Where did they go?”

“Wh-who?”

“The highborn who was struck and the jarriah he was with. Where the fuck did they go?”

The male’s eyes shifted, then he pointed to a corridor at his right. “Th-through there.”

Nasir shoved the male to the ground and sprinted for the archway. A stone stairwell disappeared into darkness. Nasir skipped steps, rounded the corner, then drew up short when he heard a scream.

“Let…go of me!”

Kavin…

His heart pounded against his ribs. He tightened his grip on the sword, clenched his jaw, and silently moved toward the sounds.

* * *

Pain rippled through Kavin’s scalp and raced down her spine. Zayd jerked her around by her hair and all but dragged her through the dark and empty tunnel that ran beneath the arena. The guards were all above them. There was no one to hear her call for help. No one to save her.

“You fucking bitch!” Zayd screamed. “Did you think you and your pathetic lover could win? That you could beat me? He’s dead now, no thanks to you and your asinine plan. And you…” He shoved his shoulder hard against the door that led to Nasir’s cell…the cell where they’d made love…then threw her into the room by her hair. “You’re about to get exactly what you deserve.”

Kavin yelped. Her shoulder and hip slammed into the stone floor. Pain ricocheted through her body, sent stars firing off behind her eyes. She grunted, tried to get up, but Zayd was right there, lifting her by the shoulders and slamming her back down against the floor. “Look at me, you bitch!”

Hair fell into her face. Kavin tried to look up at him, but her vision swam, the pain in her skull and back so strong, it was all she could feel. And Nasir…

Her breath caught on a sob. She hadn’t intended for any of that to happen. She’d only wanted Malik to stop the fight. To keep Nasir from doing something stupid in his attempt to save her. And now he was…

Her chest squeezed so tight she could barely breathe. The memory of all that blood spilling from the wound in his belly overwhelmed her.

Oh, Allah. Oh, Allah…

Zayd’s open palm connected with her cheek. Her head spun around, hit the stone floor. But she only minutely registered the blow. All she felt was the wretched, blinding pain near her heart at what had happened to Nasir. Of the thought of him bleeding to death up there on the sands of the arena right this minute.

“Look at me!” Zayd roared again. “I want you to see my eyes when I show you just what you really are.”

“Take your hands off her.”

Zayd stilled. Kavin’s eyes popped open at the sound of the voice. Nasir’s voice.

Slowly, Zayd shifted to look back to the door, and Kavin lifted her head, then peered through watery vision toward the archway. Toward Nasir, standing in the opening, gripping his sword in two hands. His eyes blazed; his body was covered in dust and sweat and only the faint stains of blood. But there was no gaping wound. No blood spilling from his belly. No sign of death as she’d seen in the arena.

Relief and confusion swam inside Kavin’s heart and mind as Zayd spun in front of her. Muttering words in the Ghul language that Kavin had never heard, he gripped the sword that magically appeared in his hand. “You think you can take me, slave? I was a warrior before I came to Jahannam. And my magic isn’t bound like yours. You’re fucked. And so is this slut.”

“I think you’re a coward,” Nasir said, stepping fully into the room. Without taking his eyes off Zayd, he said, “Get up, rouhi.”

Kavin swallowed hard and scrambled back against the wall. And noticed, for the first time, the blood welling from the wound in Zayd’s shoulder. Things had happened so fast in the arena she hadn’t realized he’d been hit.

Zayd moved in front of her. “I’m going to enjoy gutting you. But I’m not going to kill you quickly. No, I think I’ll keep you alive long enough to watch what I do to this whore.”

Nasir’s jaw clenched. “Then get on with it, Ghul.”

The way he snarled the last word wasn’t lost on Kavin. And fear gripped her chest when she watched Zayd’s shoulders tighten, when she heard him mutter words in the old language again, when she saw the second sword appeared in his other hand.

Zayd swung the swords like a pro, took a step to his right. Kavin’s breath caught as she pulled her legs in close and watched. Waited. Prayed.

Zayd swung out with his right hand, then his left. Kavin gasped as Nasir barely missed being decapitated, then lifted his own sword, stopping the downward slice of Zayd’s.

Muscles in his arms and legs flexed as he pushed hard against Zayd. Zayd was as big as Nasir, and as muscular. And he had the power of magic on his side. Fear burned a hole straight to her stomach as the two struggled for control. Just when she was sure Zayd was going to win, Nasir lifted his foot and shoved his sandal into Zayd’s gut, knocking the highborn back two feet.

Zayd stumbled, tried to right himself, but his feet slipped on the edge of the bath and then his body fell into the water with a splash. A sword flew from one hand, clanked against the stone wall.

Nasir was right there, charging through the bath, water spraying up and around his legs as he grasped Zayd by the shirtfront and jammed the hilt of his sword in Zayd’s face.

Zayd’s head whipped around; blood spurted from his mouth. Nasir’s eyes were wide with retribution and rage as he slammed the end of the sword into Zayd’s face again and again.

Kavin pushed to her feet, her heart pounding hard as she watched. She’d never seen Nasir like this. Not just enraged, but the bringer of death, in all its gruesome forms.

No. Her breath stuttered as she remembered back. She had seen him this way. Once. In the arena. That last fight. Just before Zayd had taken her to his cell and turned her over to him. She’d watched—in horror—as he’d decimated that Shaitan as if he were nothing.

“You were right, I hate the fighting. More than anything about this place. But I’ll do it for you. I’d do anything for you.”

“Stop!” Kavin took a step forward. “Nasir, stop!”

Nasir’s arm stilled on the upswing. He turned his head to face her. Zayd’s blood was splattered all over his face and bare chest, and there was such fury in his eyes. Fury she didn’t want to see there, not because of her.

“Please, stop,” she whispered, stepping toward him, wanting the Marid back she’d fallen in love with. Not this killer. Not this person he didn’t want to be. “Just…stop.”

Nasir’s eyes were as black as she’d ever seen them, and a shiver of fear ran through her as she reached out, as she touched his arm, because he looked like the monster she’d encountered in his cell that first day. But they’d come so far; she’d learned so much. And she believed deep in her heart he’d never hurt her.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, just…let go. He can’t hurt us anymore. He’s nothing.”

Nasir glanced down at her hand on his arm, seemed to be in some sort of rage-induced haze as he slowly shifted his gaze to her eyes as if he didn’t recognize her, then looked to Zayd’s bloody and bruised face.

Kavin held her breath. Waited. Was so afraid if Nasir killed him this way, it would cross a line they couldn’t come back from. She needed to know the djinni she’d fallen in love with was inside him somewhere. That he could pull himself back from the brink if he needed to.

Then Nasir released his hold on Zayd’s shirtfront. Zayd hit the water with a splash, sending droplets all over the stone floor. Nasir’s sword fell from his hand, clanked against the ground. And then his arms were around her, pulling her close, his face sliding into the hollow between her shoulder and neck to breathe warm against her throat.

“Rouhi…”

Relief pulsed through every inch of her body, swept her up in a tidal wave of emotion that poured through her. She slid her arms around his shoulders, held him tight. Closed her eyes and just breathed.

He’d done it. He’d saved her. And himself.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”

He eased back, looked down at her. Blood and dirt stained his handsome face, but the rage was gone. In its place were the soft, sweet, gentle eyes she’d come to love. “Thank you,” he rasped.

Tears burned her eyes. She was just about to tell him he had no reason to thank her, when she caught sight of movement behind him.

Zayd lurched to his feet in the bath. Blood ran like rivulets down his face. He gripped the sword in his hands and lifted it over his head.

Things happened so fast, Kavin barely tracked them. She screamed Nasir’s name, pushed him away from her, then reached down for his sword, which he’d dropped at their feet.

She thrust out before Zayd could. The tip stabbed into his chest, his forward momentum forcing it deep. Zayd’s eyes went wide. He stumbled back. Kavin gasped and let go of the blade. Then his body fell into the bath again with a splash that sent half the water spilling over the sides and onto the stone floor.

Silence descended. Then Nasir looked her way. “Holy shit.”

Kavin’s own eyes were wide with shock. She hadn’t thought. She’d reacted. Her pulse shot up; her adrenaline peaked, then plummeted. She stumbled back a step, but Nasir was right there to catch her.

“Breathe, rouhi.”

She gripped his arms, focused on the draw and pull of her lungs, was relieved when Nasir stepped in front of her so she couldn’t see what she’d done.

“That’s it.” He rubbed a hand down her back. “Allah, you’ve got more fight in you than I ever expected. Remind me not to piss you off.”

A laugh slipped from her lips. One she didn’t expect. One that pushed aside the horror and brought her around to what mattered most. Hands resting against his strong chest, she looked up into his eyes and tried not to be gripped by fear all over again. “How are we going to get out of here? The guards are busy in the arena, but the city walls—”

“I’ll show you.”

They both looked toward the door, where Hana stood with her hands at her sides, bitter victory on her face as she stared at Zayd’s dead body in the bath.

Seconds passed in silence, then she finally met their eyes. “So long as you take me with you.”

Kavin sagged against Nasir as she looked up at him. “Take me away from here. Away from death and dying and slaves and highborns. Please. I don’t care where we go, I just need…”

Her chest tightened with the weight of everything that had happened, cutting off her words. Of what could have happened.

Then his mouth was on hers. Claiming hers in a swift, fierce kiss she felt everywhere. Banishing the fear, telling her this—the two of them together—was all that mattered. And when he eased back, the smile that curled one side of his mouth was so damn handsome, it softened everything inside her. “Your wish is my command, rouhi. And just your luck, I know the perfect place for us to go.”

Chapter Sixteen

As they stood on a bluff overlooking Gannah, the salty breeze whipping the hair back from their faces, Nasir wondered what Kavin was thinking.

The tall spires of a city he’d loved since he was a child sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. Palms waved in the air, mountains rose to the north, and the sea filled the horizon beyond. Below them, past the city walls, his people—his tribe—milled about the streets, shopping, working, living as they did every day.

He saw home. He saw safety. He saw people removed from war and suffering who had no idea just what kind of horrors were being unleashed in Jahannam. But he’d made Malik a promise. He’d tell them. He’d make sure they all knew it wasn’t just those from his tribe who were being imprisoned. It was djinn from all tribes, from all races, from every part of their world. And it was time it stopped.

Kavin leaned against his side. “What if they don’t let us in?”

He glanced over her head toward Hana, and read the same worry in the young girl’s face that he heard in Kavin’s voice. They were both Ghul, about to enter a city they feared would despise them on sight. But Nasir knew differently.

He tightened his arm around her. “You brought their prince home. I don’t think they’re going to care if you’re Ghul or Shaitan or even human.”

She looked up at him, and, as the sun warmed her features, he remembered how scared he’d been as they’d fled the arena. Getting out of the tunnels had been easier than he’d expected. But out in the open, he’d been so afraid they’d be recognized. That he’d lose her so close to freedom. But Hana had known a secret passageway under the city walls, and with the guards distracted by the revolt, they’d slipped away quickly and easily.

It had taken three days to reach Gannah. Though his powers had returned once they’d been free of the confines of Jahannam and he could have teleported home, both Kavin and Hana had been imprisoned so quickly after reaching adulthood, they’d yet to develop their gifts. But that would soon change.

“You sound so certain.”

“I know my people, rouhi. You’re free. No one will hurt you here.”

Uncertainty filled her eyes as she ran her fingers over the opal at his throat. “Freedom means nothing to me unless you’re here to share it. What about this?”

He’d thought the same thing more than once. Wherever the sorceress was, she could call him back at any moment. He had no idea if his brothers were alive or dead, if she was using them and biding her time with him. But he was done living his life under the control of others.

He turned her, wrapped both arms around her back, reveling in the warmth of her body, the feel of her skin, her love that had reminded him who he was—who he wanted to be. “We’ll worry about that if it happens.”

“But—”

He pressed his finger against her lips. “She hasn’t contacted me in months. I don’t know what happened to her, but I’m not going to live my life in fear. I want to spend it with you. However long that may be. Nothing in life is certain, Kavin. All I know is that I love you. Right now, that and what we do to stop the torture in Jahannam is all that matters.”

Her eyes softened, and she lifted her mouth to his when he lowered to kiss her, curled her arms around his neck, and held him so tight he felt her everywhere. And though he knew the battle with Zoraida wasn’t over, for now he didn’t care.

He was back. He’d found his heart and soul and a reason to live in a Ghul. In the most amazing, beautiful, gentle creature he’d ever met. And because of her, he was alive. He wasn’t about to waste a moment of the time he’d been given all because of her.

“Come, rouhi,” he said, easing back, smiling down at her with all the love she’d given him, even when he hadn’t deserved it. “I want to introduce you to my parents.”

She gripped his hand in hers as he stepped back, pressed the other against her belly, and shot him a nervous look. One that was so damn sexy, he itched to kiss it from her face. “The king and queen? In this?” She glanced down at the ripped purple gown she was still wearing. “Maybe you could take me somewhere to freshen up first?”

He chuckled, waved his hand, and muttered magical words in his language. Her dress transformed into a simple but elegant pale blue gown that hit at her calves and showcased her slim arms and waist.

Surprise lit her eyes as she looked down. “How…?” She glanced up sharply. “How did you do that?”

His smile grew wider. Behind her, Hana chuckled.

“I am full of surprises. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

Her lips curled with a wicked grin that sent heat careening through his belly. A heat he planned to shower on her as soon as they were alone.

She tightened her fingers in his and took a step down the hill, toward their future. “Something tells me life with you will never be boring.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, rouhi.”

Content

SLAVE TO PASSION
Firebrand - 2
ELISABETH NAUGHTON

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen