Slave to Passion Read Online Free Page A

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