Read Online Slave to Passion by Elisabeth Naughton - Free Book Online Page B

she helped move him back so his spine was against the walls. And wicked heat flared all through his body at her touch. A touch he wanted to go on feeling. Even knowing he shouldn’t.
    Talk, dammit. Get your brain back online .
    “What—” His voice was thick, raspy, not his own. He cleared his throat. Tried again. “What happened?”
    “Infection,” she said, finally letting go and moving back. Relief and disappointment swept through him all at the same time, confusing him even more. “From the wound in your side. I stitched it closed and bandaged it with what they gave me. But it was really the herbs your mu’allim brought that made the difference.”
    “Why?”
    “Why?” Fine lines formed between her brows. Sexy lines. Lines he suddenly wanted to kiss from her forehead. “Because you needed them.”
    He shook his head. No, she wasn’t following him. And he couldn’t believe where his fucked-up thoughts were heading. “No, why you ? I didn’t ask…for a highborn’s help.”
    Her mouth snapped closed. And her pretty green eyes went flat. The way they had when he’d told her he wasn’t going to be a pawn in her game.
    Except…as he stared at her and his mind turned over images of her tending his wounds, humming to help him relax, brushing the hair back from his face…he had a strange feeling it might not be her game either.
    Which…didn’t make any more sense than the reason she was still here now.
    “I didn’t want to be responsible for the great champion’s death,” she said in a tone that matched her lackluster eyes.
    Yeah, but she wouldn’t have been. She hadn’t cut him. He’d gotten that injury in the training ring.
    He rubbed his suddenly throbbing forehead. Man, his mind was still in a fucking fog, and everything seemed off.
    “There’s water if you want it,” she said in a softer tone. “On the table next to the bed.”
    The bed he’d given her. He looked down at his legs, covered by the blanket he’d tossed over her the night before—hell, he wasn’t sure which night now—then to the table where a tin cup sat.
    A strange buzz started in his ears, seemed to spread to his chest. Why did she care if he was thirsty or not? Why did she care if he lived or died? He’d all but tried to kill her, then belittled her when he’d found her in his cell again, making it more than clear what he thought of her. What could have possibly compelled her to stitch his wound and tend him in illness?
    Because that was what she’d done, he realized as memories of her whispered reassurances and silky fingers skimming his skin spiraled in and clamped on tight. She’d not only treated him, she’d sat beside him, kept him warm…comforted him with her touch and voice and presence.
    A Ghul.
    A highborn Ghul.
    A really sexy, way-more-enticing-than-she-should-be highborn Ghul.
    Nerves kicked up in his chest, sent his heart rate pounding. He tried to make sense of her actions. Couldn’t. Tried to think logically. Came up empty.
    Nothing seemed right. Everything was wrong. And yet…somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice whispered, Yes. Remember who you are, Nasir .
    His gaze slowly swung back to her, and before he could stop himself, he asked, “Why—why did you stay?”
    She bit into her bottom lip, a move that was so damn sexy, blood rushed to his groin. But she didn’t immediately answer as her gaze drifted to his feet, covered by the blanket. And reflexively, his toes tingled as if she were seeing them. Touching them. Caressing them with those fingers he remembered sliding across his skin last night.
    “I—”
    The door creaked open before she could answer. Her head turned that way, soft curls falling over her shoulder as she moved, drawing his attention to the creamy skin of her collarbone, then lower to the soft swell of her breasts. His cock grew hard beneath the blanket, and disappointment whipped through his veins when the guard entered, interrupting them, because he’d sensed she