Elisabeth Naughton - Slave to Passion

“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.

The female was back.