Blood Passage (Dark Caravan Cycle #2) (24 page)

“Anything is better than what's in her head right now, brother,” Samar said.

Zanari whimpered and Raif hesitated, then looked at Nalia, nodding.

She took off after Malek, catching up with him at the top of the stone stairway outside the building. The only light came from the distant bronze pillars at the gate. The City of Brass lay before them, a ghostly tomb.

Malek glanced up when she neared, unsurprised. He was already smoking a cigarette, the air filling with its heavy clove scent.

“Help her,” she said.

“Not in the mood anymore. Offer's off the table.”

Nalia grabbed the cigarette and ground it under her foot. “Well,
get in the mood.
”

“You've cast me as your villain, Nalia. I'm merely playing my role.” He raised his dark eyebrows. “Perhaps I should add an evil laugh to make it more believable?”

“Why do you do this?” she yelled. Her voice echoed off the stones.

He looked at her, surprised. “Do what?”

“Every time I think you might actually have a shred of
decency, you say something like that.”

Malek stepped closer, his eyes flashing. “If your lover had kept his mouth shut, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He wants his sister to go mad and kill herself, fine by me. One less person in my way.”

“So this is about Raif, not Zanari,” she said, shaking her head. “You have a power that can save a jinni's life and yet you won't use it because her brother loves me.”

“Love?”
Now Malek laughed, low and cruel. He played his part so well. “Darling, what you two have is a crush, nothing more. You've known that hotheaded fool for a few
weeks.
I won't deny you your fun, but don't let it get out of hand—I don't care for sloppy seconds.”

Nalia slapped him. The sting of her skin hitting his felt good. Anger coursed through her, stronger now, as if the lightning had ignited some hidden spark. He took a step back, considering her.

“I suppose that was a bit out of line,” he said.

“I will never forgive you if you let her die, Malek.”

“When have you ever forgiven me for anything?” he asked softly.

“I guess you'll never know.”

Nalia stalked back toward the palace's wide double doors. She knew he'd follow. Oh, he'd wait. Light another cigarette. Lord his power over them. But Malek could never bear to see her back turned to him. And that, Nalia knew, was what would save Zanari's life.

MALEK STOOD OUTSIDE THE BUILDING, FINISHING HIS cigarette. He almost felt at home in this wasted city, with its skulls and secrets, the despair buried deep below the surface of the desert.

Nalia was starting to sound like his brother; that disappointment in her eyes was too damn familiar.

“Why do you do this, brother?” Amir is staring at the corpses around the conference-room table, his face ashen. Malek had put a bullet in the head of each member of the board after hypersuading them to sit still.

“They tried to cheat me. To take away my fortune. They had to be eliminated.” Malek frowns as he picks at a bloodstain on his cuff. He holds it up for Amir to see. “Prada. Eight hundred
dollars down the drain.”

Amir backs away, toward the door. “You've gone too far, Malek. Too far. I can't do this anymore.”

“Do what? Cower every time someone in this family takes action?” He pointed at the dead men, his voice rising. “Do you know what they see when they look at me? A piece of brown trash, a Saudi they want to screw, a boy they think they're better than.”

Amir shook his head. “No, they don't. This is all in your head. It's this
pardjinn
chip on your shoulder, thinking everyone is out to get you. Our father didn't give a damn, it's true, and he made our lives a lot harder than they needed to be. But this”—he gestures at the bodies slumped over the polished table—“doesn't make what he did to us go away. It doesn't matter how much power you have, Mal. This is what matters.” He points to the wedding ring on his finger. “Family. Love.”

Malek waves him away. “Go home to your pretty wife, then. I'll clean up.”

There is a pause, then—

“I want you to stay away from us,” Amir says quietly.

“You're joking.”

Amir's eyes, softer than his but the same onyx shade, stare into Malek's. “When we were little, you used to protect me. From our uncles, our cousins, the whole world. Now? I need to protect my wife and son—from you. You're putting us in danger. And I don't want Tariq to revere his uncle Malek, who murders humans without a second thought, who manipulates and lies and steals and cheats.”

“Everything I do has been for this family!” Malek roars. “To
give us a position, pride. Protection.”

Amir shakes his head. “If that's what you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, brother.” He turns to go.

“You want to know why I do things like this?” Malek says.

Amir stops, his hand on the door handle. “Why, Malek?” His voice is strained. Malek's brother is tired of playing this game. “Why do you torture these humans? Tell me why.”

“Because someday, he's going to hear of me. Our father. And he won't be able to contain his curiosity. He will come, gloating. And I will kill him, Amir.
I will kill him.
”

Amir looks at his brother for a long moment. Then he opens the door and softly closes it behind him.

Malek will never see him again.

Malek closed his eyes.
Family. Love.
Those are the things Amir had said mattered.
Turned out they mattered to him, too. How would things be different, if Amir were still alive? If he could have a beer with his brother and tell him he loved someone who refused to love him back? What advice would Amir have given? In those few blissful moments by the pool back in Los Angeles, when he'd really believed that Nalia wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her, it had been as though the entire world had broken open for Malek. God, what a fool he'd been. His face burned even now, remembering how he'd allowed himself to imagine . . . everything. A whole lifetime with her by his side and all it meant to share his life—
really
share his life—with someone. He'd even caught himself wondering about children.
Children.
Laughable stupidity.

But.

Malek hadn't become the ruler of Earth in everything but name by accident. His ability to hypersuade was a power that involved more than simply telling people what to do and convincing them they wanted to do it. Like any jinni, he traded in desire. He couldn't grant wishes, no, but he could
see
what people wanted. His job was to make them not want it—or want it so badly they'd do anything to get it. And Nalia wanted him. He knew that. It was a tiny part of her—infinitesimal. But it was there. Unlike with his clients and victims, he wouldn't abuse that want. He would cultivate it. A seed he would water until it grew and bloomed into something he could prune.
No.
No more pruning. He'd let it run wild, free.

Malek threw down his cigarette and walked back into the building. He could hear Zanari's moans, louder. Pitiful. When he walked into the room, the jinn turned.

He caught Raif's eye and the little prick walked up to him, his body stiff. “Please help my sister.”

“What will you give me in return?” Malek asked.
Life is business
, he'd once told his brother. Everything is a negotiation.

“What do you want?”

“The ring.”

Raif's fists clenched and Malek threw back his head and laughed. “No, that wouldn't be very sporting, would it?” Malek said. He looked over to where Zanari still lay with her head in the healer's lap.

“Tell you what?” Malek leaned against a pillar, milking this for everything it was worth. “You just stand right there. Don't
move a muscle until I say. And we have a deal.”

Raif narrowed his eyes. “This is obviously a trick.”

“No trick. It'll take just a few moments, but I don't want you interfering.”

“If you hurt my sister—”

Malek raised his hand. “On my honor—”

“You
have
no honor.”

Malek smiled. “Well, you have me there. A deal, then?”

“I need a little more to go on,” Raif said.

“Ah, you have some business savvy after all.” He turned to Nalia. “This involves you, too, my dear. Might as well join us.”

Nalia walked over to where they stood just outside the circle of jinn. Her violet eyes shot daggers at him.

“This is my offer—my
only
offer, so take it or leave it. Nalia, I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Right here, right now.”

It was a foolish gamble, Malek knew, but maybe if Raif himself could see the connection Nalia shared with him, it'd drive at least a slight wedge between them. Malek knew that if he could just latch his
chiaan
onto Nalia's, she wouldn't be able to hide their connection. He'd felt how powerless she could be against it and he needed Raif to see that, too.

Malek wanted a fighting chance at her heart. He'd play dirty, break the rules—he didn't care. He wanted to stay in the game and this was the only way he knew how.

“Absolutely not,” Raif said.

Nalia looked at him. “I can speak for myself.”

Malek snorted. “
Absolutely not
?
You'd rather your sister die
after being tortured by imaginary scorpions than see Nalia give me one kiss?”

“You're a bastard, you know that?” Raif said.

“I
am
,
actually, that's quite accurate. Don't even know my father's name.” A bitter smile slashed across his face. “I suppose your reluctance to agree to my terms is simply because you're just the slightest bit afraid you'll see that Nalia's time in my, shall we say,
employ
,
was not all work and no play?”

“If you were the last living creature in any realm in the universe I would
never
want you,” Nalia said, her voice shaking with anger.

“Darling, we know that's not true.” He leveled his eyes at her. “I've shared a bed with you. You're a good liar, I'll grant you that. But not that good.”

“Nalia . . .” Raif's voice trailed off and he looked at her, waiting.

She turned to Malek. “I kiss you—”

“Like you mean it,” he interjected.

Nalia rolled her eyes. “Like I mean it, and you will help Zanari right away, right after?”

“Of course. I'm a man of my word. Well”—he smiled, devilish—“in this case.”

Before either of the men could say anything, Nalia stepped forward and pressed her lips to Malek's. They were soft and she smelled like amber, just as he remembered. He stepped away.

“Nalia. I thought we had an agreement,” he said.

“I kissed you!”

“Like you mean it.”

Raif growled as Malek laughed softly and crooked his finger toward Nalia. It was all the more fun with their audience. The
Dhoma watched them with poorly concealed interest.

“Let's try again, shall we?”

“I hate you,” she said.

“I love your pillow talk,” Malek murmured.

She grabbed his face with both hands and stared into his eyes. He let himself get lost in her and as he pulled her closer, Malek pushed his
chiaan
into her skin. Her eyes widened and he smiled, soft. He forgot about Raif, about the jinn who stared at them, about Zanari. He'd have her now, in front of all of them, if she'd let him. Nalia's lips parted and she kissed him. Slow, soft. He opened her mouth and tasted her, felt her gasp as his tongue touched hers. His hands slipped down her back and she bit his lower lip, tugging gently. He moaned against her. Her kiss unmade him. Remade him.

Nalia stepped back and the lack of her was cold and empty and wrong. He stared at her, his eyes a bright crimson, drunk on her
chiaan
and the feel of her skin against his.

“Time to hold up your side of the bargain,” she said. Then she swept past them, out of the room.

Raif stared after her, gutted.

Malek took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “Let's see about this sister of yours, shall we?”

Raif stood nearby while Malek hypersuaded Zanari. He'd never felt so impotent in his life. Phara's fingers were holding back his sister's eyelids so that Malek's magic would work. Zanari seemed unaware of her surroundings, lost in the misery in her mind.

“There are no scorpions on your body,” Malek purred as he stared into Zanari's glazed eyes. “There never were. It was a bad dream and you will never have it again.”

It took less than one minute. When he'd finished, Malek stood and dusted his hands.

“I've done my good deed for the day,” he said. “I suggest we all get some rest. Put this little interruption of sleep behind us.”

“That's one messed-up
pardjinn
,” Anso said after Malek sauntered over to the corner he slept in. All of the jinn had refused to manifest a mattress for him, but the
skag
lay on the stone floor as though it were a king's bed.

Raif nodded. “Yeah.”

Samar motioned for Raif to follow him over to a quiet section of the room.

“My friend, do not let him get to you. Her kiss meant nothing, anyone could see that.”

“I'm not so sure.”

Any fool could see the heat between them. Gods, when she'd bitten his
lip . . .

The Dhoma leader lay a heavy hand on Raif's shoulder. “Talk to her. She must be feeling very unhappy right now, no?”

How many times would Nalia have to use her body to get something she needed from Malek? And how many times would Raif's pride keep him from comforting her afterward?

“You're right.”

He'd let her down after she'd stolen the bottle, allowed himself to dwell on what had happened between her and Malek. It had cut Nalia to the core. Here he was, doing it again, just hours
after she'd nearly died on the dune.

Idiot.

He grabbed a torch off the wall and went in search of her.

Nalia was deep in the recesses of the building, huddled against a crumbling stone column. The mosaic floor at her feet was inlaid with mother of pearl that caught the fire's light and held it. She was tracing it with her finger, but as he came near, she looked up, her eyes glassy.

Raif set the torch in a brazier and sat on the floor opposite her.

“I'm sorry he's such a
skag
.”

She tried to smile. “Not your fault.”

It looked like you wanted him
was what he longed to say. But he didn't.

“Zanari?” she asked.

“Good as new.”

“Thank gods.”

Their eyes met and Nalia looked down, hesitating.

“What?” he asked softly.

“I want to do something really selfish.” She raised her eyes, and the feeling in them tempered the misery that was eating him up. “Something
. . .
wrong in light of our recent conversation.”

She crawled across the space between them and slipped onto his lap, her legs straddling him. He drew in a sharp breath and she placed a finger against his lips.

“I don't want the taste of him in my mouth. I don't want him to be the last person I ever kiss.” Nalia wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body closer. “What you saw when I was with Malek . . . I was imagining you
.
It was the only way I could
kiss him as if I cared. I was kissing
you.
That's what you saw.”

“It . . .” He coughed. “Did look pretty . . . intense.” And he believed her because he could feel how much she wanted him right now, could feel the love she was trying to deny them both.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, her lips inches from his own. “Even though we can't be together? Even though it will be the last time?”

He reached up and tucked a small strand of hair behind her ear. “It won't be the last time,
rohifsa.
Not if I can help it.”

He closed his mouth over hers and Nalia's
chiaan
poured into him, somehow ragingly powerful and sweet at the same time. He hated that Malek had tasted her lips, that his tongue had been in her mouth. He kissed her again and again and again, his lips covering her face, her neck, the soft skin just above her breasts. His name became a whispered gasp as his hands moved over her body and slipped under her clothes. She pulled off his shirt and pressed her lips to his heart. He felt her tears drip down his chest and he tightened his arms around her.