Read Online Blood Passage (Dark Caravan Cycle #2) by Heather Demetrios - Free Book Online

“It’s time for the last words.”
    Jordif opened his mouth to speak, but Raif stepped forward and kicked the stool out from under the traitor’s feet.
    â€œThat’s a privilege he doesn’t deserve,” Raif said.
    They’d tied the rope so that Jordif’s neck wouldn’t break right away. Raif watched as the dying jinni struggled against the rope, his bloodied stumps splattering the soft sand below him. There were the gurgling, choking sounds of death, the bulging eyes that Raif forced himself to look into. Then it was over.
    Jordif’s body swayed under the flat-topped tree just as the sun broke over the surrounding sand dunes, bathing the desert in golden light. Raif let out the breath he’d been holding and looked away, to where the glowing orange disk burst into the sky.
    You’ve become the monsters you’re fighting. Was it true? It couldn’t be, not if Nalia loved him. But the words had burrowed under his skin.
    â€œBreakfast?” Shirin asked brightly.

7
    NALIA WALKED ALONG THE BALCONY THAT BORDERED the second-floor rooms, one hand skimming the smooth wooden railing. Down below, a small group of tourists ate breakfast, chattering in various languages. Nalia eyed the buffet table set up near the splash pool: Moroccan crepes,fried and thick, fresh yogurt with pomegranate seeds, and an assortment of cheese and olives. Her stomach growled, but she ignored the hunger. First, she had to assure Raif that she’d survived her night with Malek unscathed. She shivered and rubbed at the goose bumps on her flesh, angry all over again about her body’s betrayal last night. Malek’s words, taunting: when you shivered just now—it wasn’t because you were cold . She didn’t want Malek, and the idea that he thought she did sickened her. After a lifetime of not being touched, her body was hungry for affection and it didn’t carewhere that came from. But Nalia cared. She wanted Raif’s skin against her own, his hands on her body. No one else’s.
    But she was a murderer. Maybe all she deserved was the touch of Malek’s equally bloody hands.
    You have to tell him, Nalia thought. The knowledge that she’d killed Raif’s best friend weighed heavily on her. She’d made the connection on the tarmac, just as they were about to leave LA. The Kir her mother had forced her to kill was the Kir that had been like a brother to Raif. It was all she’d thought about on the flight to Morocco, but they hadn’t had a chance to be alone and it wasn’t a conversation Nalia wanted an audience for. She knew it would be smart to wait until they’d gotten the sigil, but she couldn’t bear to have this between them. Every time she was near Raif, Nalia felt like she was lying to him. She didn’t deserve the tender look he gave her when no one was looking or the unspoken promises that lay beneath all their conversations.
    Now she stood before the door to his room, suddenly nervous. Except for a few stolen moments in Malek’s mansion as they were preparing to flee the oncoming Ifrit, Nalia hadn’t been alone with Raif since before she stole her bottle from Malek. So much had happened since then—the unbinding, their flight to Morocco, killing an Ifrit in the Djemaa.
    Before she could knock, the door swung open and Zanari motioned her inside.
    â€œHow long were you going to stand there?” Zanari asked.
    â€œI was testing your psychic powers.”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    Zanari was a remote viewer; she could see things happeningthousands of miles away, so it wasn’t hard for her to know someone was standing outside her door. Nalia was glad Zanari couldn’t read minds, especially now, when her confession about Kir was all Nalia could think about.
    â€œWhere’s Raif?” Nalia asked, glancing around the room. It was similar to the one she shared with Malek, steeped in the lush elegance of Moroccan