Slave to Passion Read Online Free PDF
Author: Elisabeth Naughton
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
“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