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

crossed to the window that looked onto the street below. Children on bicycles clattered over the cobblestones, women clothed in bright kaftans carried shopping bags heavy with fresh bread. Shopkeepers began raising the metal shutters that covered their stores, where Nalia caught a peek of bolts of cloth and mannequins wearing head scarves. A little boy skipped by, singing a song in Arabic. His smile reminded her of Bashil, and the hole inside her grew wider, deeper.
    The bathroom door opened, and the room filled with the scent of the riad ’srich musk soap. Nalia could feel Raif behindher, his heat and energy whispering to her in a wordless language only they knew. She was suddenly terrified to turn around. If she looked at him, she wouldn’t be able to say what she needed to.
    I killed your best friend, she thought. I killed Kir. No. I was forced to kill—
    â€œI was going crazy last night, imagining him in that room with you,” Raif whispered, his lips against her neck. His hands slid down her arms and Nalia leaned into him, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Her confession retreated as his chiaan connected to hers, electric. Raif turned her around so that she was facing him. He made no effort to disguise the want in his eyes.
    Nalia rested her hands on Raif’s bare chest, a thrill running through her as she felt his heart beating fast and sure under her skin.
    â€œRaif, nothing happened.”
    â€œWhat if he’d tried—”
    Nalia reached up and pressed a finger against his lips. “I’ve got a pretty good uppercut. You never need to worry about me around him.” She had a flash of Malek pushing her onto her back, his lips a breath from her own. “Now that he’s not my master, Malek is nothing but a pardjinn I owe a wish to . ”
    It was true that she was stronger than Malek, but her former master didn’t fight like other people; he fought the mind and heart. He would use the worst parts of Nalia against herself, like he had last night.
    Now, she thought. She’d tell Raif the truth and he’d hate her for it but at least it’d finally be out in the open.
    â€œRaif—”
    â€œThey found Jordif,” he said softly.
    She stiffened. “Where?”
    â€œSomeplace called South America,” he said. “We executed him this morning.”
    Nalia’s eyes widened. “That fast?”
    Raif nodded. She let that sink in for a moment. It was something like justice, but it didn’t satisfy. She wasn’t sure if anything would.
    â€œYou know what an evil part of me wishes?” she said.
    The Ifrit part, she thought to herself. As the only jinni left that had access to all four elements, it meant that Nalia shared the fire her enemies drew strength from.
    â€œHmm?” Raif tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, his rough fingers grazing her cheek.
    She looked at the scars around her wrists, reminders of her slavery that would never go away. “I wish you had put him on the dark caravan. Made him a slave to someone like Sergei Federov. That’s what he deserves. Death is too easy.”
    How many times had she wished for her own death? Haunted by the massacre of her people, forced to obey Malek’s every whim and subject to the torture of the bottle—death had always seemed kind. A black-cloaked angel of mercy.
    â€œWho’s Sergei Federov?”
    â€œOne of Malek’s business partners. He’s . . .” She shivered. Eyes like the Taiga in winter, soul like the bottom of a deep well. Yes, she thought, that would be justice.
    â€œJordif received a traitor’s death,” Raif said. “His punishment will never end.”
    Nalia’s breath caught. To have your body pecked at by birds, to forever roam the shadowlands, deprived of the ritual burning that set your soul free . . . she almost felt sorry for Jordif. But then she thought of the horror of slavery, of the bottle, and of