Exquisite Captive (27 page)

After one bite, he knows she is not the jinni he seeks, but that doesn’t matter. He can’t believe his luck. The ghoul walks into the kitchen and grabs a knife. By consuming this seer jinni, he will temporarily have access to her powers. Now it will be easy to draw out this little mouse that is so good at hiding from his teeth. His empress will be so pleased.

Soon, he will have the jinni backed up against a wall. Just as she was three years ago.

The bodies.

The blood.

The hunger.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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NALIA SAT IN THE WINDOW SEAT OF HER BEDROOM
, staring out at the garden below. Cowering like that in front of a human had been humiliating. How could Nalia have the power to command the winds and grant wishes, but be unable to properly defend herself against one wishmaker? It didn’t matter that seeing the gun had paralyzed her with memories she had tried to lock away; Nalia had failed to fight with honor. She’d never be able to free her brother if the sight of a tiny gun completely unnerved her. The gods must have been playing a joke on the realm when she was the only Ghan Aisouri who survived.

“Stop it,” she hissed under her breath. “Stop shaking.”

Her body wouldn’t listen. She’d been huddled in a ball for the past hour, her eyes wide. Instead of the roses outside her window, all she could see was the client’s body floating on the water. All she could feel was the barrel of his gun digging into her skull.

Stop it. Stop it.

The Ghan Aisouri would have called it justice. But it wasn’t. Murder?
Self-defense.
He’d wanted to kill her, she
had
to let him die. Her ribs and stomach were covered in bruises from the client’s beating—proof of his malice. She concentrated on the pain, punishing herself. She deserved it, these reminders of another death on her conscience. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t been so vindictive in her granting. She’d consigned the client to a life of invisibility, and for what? Because he was sexist and wore a big gold watch she didn’t like? Because he’d caught her on the wrong day? This was exactly why Raif hated the Ghan Aisouri; just because you had the power to do something didn’t mean you
should.
It felt as though every day she became more and more like her master.

The problem: Nalia didn’t know where the boundary between right and wrong was anymore. Nothing,
nothing
in her life made sense. Seeing Malek use a dark power had sent her over the edge. All this time, she’d been living with a
pardjinn
who could hypnotize people, make them do anything he wanted, and she’d had no idea. Nalia’s skin prickled and she rubbed at it, sickened. She’d seen how Malek’s power had affected the client—the glazed eyes, the complete willingness to do exactly as he said. Not just a slave, a
mindless
slave.

And Malek could try to do the same to her, if he wanted to.

The gryphons had trained Nalia to resist mental control, but that hadn’t helped her when the Ifrit prisoner read her mind. Nalia’s mental defenses were weak; she’d proven that already. Even so, she knew Malek hadn’t hypersuaded her. There were no gaps in her memory, no mysteries in her life. Malek didn’t
need
to hypersuade Nalia: their bind already forced her to obey his commands, whether she liked them or not. Nalia had fought her master every step of the way since the moment he’d bought her. So what was keeping him from simply pushing through the barriers in her mind until he found the soft, yielding part of her that would succumb to his hypersuasion? He must find the daily clash of their wills tiring. Exhausting, even. Nalia did few things for Malek without a fight. Yet he wasn’t using his power on her, she was sure of it.

Faqua celique,
she thought, forcing herself to stand.
Only the stars know.
In human terms:
get over it.
Now that she was giving him every reason to think he had more than just a claim on her servitude, she hoped he wouldn’t feel the need to force her into anything. In some ways, she was more willing than ever to give him what he wanted.

Headlights swept across the room—Malek was home. Nalia pulled off the shreds of gauzy fabric that were all that remained of her dress and threw on a bathrobe, wincing at her sore muscles and the bruises. She had no doubt her master would want to see her before he went to bed. The night had grown cold and she closed the window, then sat on the window seat, waiting.

The client’s appearance at the Getty had ruined any hope Nalia had of retrieving her bottle tonight. After helping Malek murder an invisible stockbroker, strutting around in a bikini seemed in poor taste. More than that, Malek wouldn’t believe her for a second. Nalia had been too shaken up by what had happened at the Getty to act like they were still on a date. He’d know something was off. Once again, she needed a new plan.

“Come in,” she said, when she heard his soft knock on the door.

Malek, for once, looked exhausted. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, and for the first time she noticed the hole just under his ribs where the client’s bullet had torn through the fabric. There was just a little bit of dried blood, as though all he’d done was cut himself, and when Malek walked toward her, he limped slightly. Draega’s Amulet protected him from death, but being hurt was an entirely different matter. Nalia guessed a bullet to the stomach wasn’t something he’d recover from overnight, but her master behaved as though it were little more than a troublesome stitch in his side.

Malek’s eyes roved over her disheveled hair and dirty face. “I saw the light under your door. I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

How could he stand there, acting like nothing had happened?
We killed someone,
she thought. For Malek, it was just another day. There had been no question in his mind about how to deal with the client. No moral dilemma. And she’d just stood there and let it happen.

Malek looked at her for a long moment. “You did nothing wrong,” he said quietly. “I didn’t protect you as I should have. What happened tonight—it was my fault. He never should have been able to get that close to you.”

Nalia could feel her
chiaan
building with her anger, an inferno she wasn’t sure she could control. Faint wisps of golden smoke trailed from her fingertips. “I’ve already got one murder on my conscience, Malek. Any more and I swear to gods I’ll—”

“What? You didn’t kill him, Nalia,
I
did.”

“I wasn’t talking about him.”

It felt good to come right out and say it, to finally own what she’d done in a way she never had before.

Malek blinked. “You killed someone?” He sounded equal parts shocked and impressed.

Nalia nodded. She looked down at her hands, remembering how they’d glowed as her victim’s
chiaan
seeped out of his chest and across her palms, as if she were holding his soul. “He was . . . just a boy. A revolutionary in Arjinna. I’d been ordered to—” She stopped, took a breath. “It was my choice to do it.” She could have refused, told her mother it was wrong. Why hadn’t she? “What happened tonight—I don’t want any part of that, Malek.”

“Fair enough,” he said. He leaned against her bedpost, watching her. “I’ll never make you kill anyone, Nalia, I promise you that. Nor will I kill anyone in your presence—provided they aren’t actively trying to murder you. If that’s the case, then I apologize in advance, but I will rip his goddam heart out if I have to.”

Nalia looked away. She couldn’t stand the feeling in his eyes—she didn’t want his protection, she wanted her freedom.

Malek cocked his head to the side, studying her. “You’re mad that I killed him—even though he was trying to murder you. Nalia, that’s absurd.”

“I’m sorry,” she snapped. “I don’t think murder is the solution to most of the world’s problems.”

“I’m sorry you don’t, either. You’d make a damn fine assassin.” He smiled, amused. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Nalia’s stomach tightened. She’d been so careful, all these years, to play the genius Shaitan jinni. But the Shaitan didn’t fight; they never wanted to get their hands dirty. She wasn’t sure what Malek would do if he knew she’d been lying to him all these years, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Didn’t want to find out.

“Where did
you
learn to hypersuade like that?” she asked, ignoring his question.

He shrugged. “It comes naturally to me.”

Nalia thought of the way Malek had held the client’s head under the water, calm and patient. He made killing look like breathing.

“Would you do that to me?” she asked softly. “If I ever made you angry enough, would you tell me to go sit in front of the pool and wait for you to drown me?”

“So that’s what this tantrum is really about.” Malek ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath in Arabic. “Nalia, you’re taking this much too far.”

She stood. “Am I? You could make me do whatever you want. Just use the right tone of voice, make sure I look into your eyes when you tell me what you like.”

This time, a look of revulsion crossed Malek’s face. “Do you really think I would do something like that?”

“I don’t know,” she said evenly. “Doesn’t it come ‘naturally’ to you?”

This was the real fear: what if his hypersuasion actually
worked
on Nalia and he told her she
wanted
to be with him? What if he told her that every day, for the rest of her life?

Malek’s eyes blazed red. “My indulgence with regard to you only goes so far, Nalia. I’d rather you didn’t test the boundaries of my patience tonight.”

Nalia bowed her head in mock deference. “Yes, Master.”

He snorted. “Don’t play the subservient jinni with me. It doesn’t become you and I don’t buy it for a second.” Malek took a step closer to her. “
That’s
why I’ve never hypersuaded you. If I wanted to share my life with a zombie, I would,” he said.

“You don’t share your life with me, Malek. You
impose
it on me. You’re kidding yourself if you think I have any choices when it comes to you.”

His eyes settled on the lapis lazuli pendant around her neck. “The night I gave you that,” he said, pointing to it, “you made a choice, did you not?”

Nalia’s face warmed.
Tell me to stop and I will,
he’d said. Malek didn’t know she had only let him kiss her because of Bashil. She leaned her head against the window, silent.

Malek sighed. “I’m not perfect, I know that—
you
know that. I admit that last night got out of hand.”

“Are you talking about the part where you nearly gave me a concussion?”

“If you only knew how much control I exercise around you . . .” He crossed his arms and leaned against the bedpost. “When you came here, you were wild, a feral little thing. But I saw your potential—like a stallion that needed to be broken. I knew how great we’d be together: you just hadn’t seen that yet.”

Nalia’s eyes widened. “Did you just compare me to a
horse
?”

Malek looked away from her and took a deep breath. She could see the tension in his fingers as they gripped his waist, like he was trying to keep the rage that claimed him at bay. After a moment, his eyes were once again their onyx hue. He ran a hand over his face as he turned to go.

“I need a drink,” he muttered.

No, this evening had not gone how Nalia had planned.
Godsdammit,
she thought.
Me and my stupid mouth.

She started toward the door. “I’ll get it.”

Nalia could feel her plan to seduce Malek toppling around her like a house of cards—one more mistake and she could kiss her freedom good-bye.

As she passed him, Malek reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Wait,” he said.

Nalia stood with her back to him, afraid to turn around for fear of what she would see in his eyes. But, as so often happened these days, he surprised her.

Malek brought her palm up to his lips and kissed it. His thumb pressed against her pulse, and Nalia could feel his smile against her skin as her heart sped up. Malek’s
chiaan
flowed into her, and even though it was wrong, even though she despised him, Nalia found herself turning toward him like a flower to the sun.

And that, perhaps, was the most terrifying thing that had happened the entire night.

“How much more of me do you
want
, Malek?” Nalia’s voice was a whisper, but the question felt like a shout.

What was happening—right now, in this room—it wasn’t hypersuasion. Malek wasn’t
making
her feel this. It was real, this magnetic response.

“All of you,” he said, gently tugging on her hand until she was in front of him.

“I want this,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over her lips. She sucked in her breath.

“And this,” he said, resting a hand against her heart. It pounded a frantic beat against his palm.

I hate you.
But the words stayed in her throat, choking her. Malek kept his eyes on Nalia’s golden ones, holding her gaze in the sudden softness of his own. Then he stepped away from her.

“But I already told you,
hayati
—I won’t take it from you.” A faint, sad smile pulled on his lips. “Good night, Nalia.”

She fell against the bedpost, gripping the wood as she watched him go, adrift in a sea of confusion. She craved the anger and hate that had filled her earlier—it was solid, something she could hold onto. Something she understood. But it was gone, carved out of her by her master’s dogged pursuit of her heart. The anger would be back soon enough, but for now, she just felt empty.

Nalia’s life with Malek had begun to resemble the labyrinth in the Getty’s garden, all twists and turns where nothing before or behind brought her any closer to the place she wanted to be. She had to find her way out before she got lost in it forever.

After Malek left, Nalia took a long, hot shower then threw on a short, sleeveless nightgown. She put her jade dagger underneath her pillow, then curled into a ball in the center of her bed, her eyes wide open despite the heavy fatigue that had settled over her the moment she saw the client stop moving. Nalia’s mind ran like a wild desert animal with a predator nipping at its heels. She’d wasted the day. Nearly twenty-four hours that Haran had spent getting closer to her and that her brother had spent toiling in the camps. She came up with insane escape plans and useless protection spells to hold off Haran until she could figure out what to do. She considered going to Malek in the middle of the night and crawling into bed with him, begging his forgiveness for her behavior in her room, but knew she couldn’t, not for fear of what would happen but because she had no idea what to do if he welcomed her. For the Ghan Aisouri, sex was a duty performed for the empire, with the hope of bearing more of their sacred line. There was no time for pleasure when the Ifrit were aching to tear their world to pieces. All Nalia knew of the night’s dark mysteries she’d learned in the Ghan Aisouri dormitories. Just a few fumbling experiments with bodies so like her own. She knew nothing of men—jinn or human—and the way Malek made Nalia feel terrified her.