Read Slave to Passion for Free Online Page A

my harem. Do whatever you must to get the monster to use you, or I’ll leave you in the pits to rot right along with him.”
    Fear and disbelief rushed through Kavin. He was sending her back? No, no, no …
    He ran a finger down her still-stinging cheek, something he’d done several times since he’d bought her, as if he were admiring a sculpture or favorite possession. And though she fought it, Kavin trembled all over again.
    “So beautiful…” Carefully, he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. Only this time, when she looked, she didn’t see fury in his features any longer. She saw truth. A bitter truth that chilled her to the bone.
    He leaned in close to her ear. “And if, on the fifth day, jarriah , you’ve still failed? I’ll have you beheaded in the city square for all to witness. After I’ve sufficiently punished you myself.”

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
     
    Nasir ducked out from beneath Malik’s attack, swiveled, and nearly missed being skewered. Unlike the wooden training sword he used, his mu’allim wielded a steel blade, one that could inflict serious injury. And seeing how his trainer’s deeply tanned features were currently twisted in a fit of rage, that possibility didn’t look far off the mark.
    Breathing heavily, Nasir swung out, his fake sword clanking against Malik’s real one with a deafening clap. Dust blew up from the training circle, flew into his eyes. He blinked twice, dropped to the ground, and rolled away from another near-fatal blow.
    “Get up!” Malik roared.
    Nasir scrambled to his feet, his sandals skidding on the loose sand of the training arena, and tried to catch his breath. Crouched, ready to deflect whatever Malik threw his way, he swiped at the blood and sweat that dripped into his eyes and blurred his vision. But his trainer came at him again and again, never giving him time to orient himself, never giving any explanation for the intensity of the exercise. And as he fought simply not to be fileted, Nasir knew this was more than a simple lesson. This was retribution for what had happened in his cell last night.
    Malik swung out again, and Nasir dodged another shot to the ribs. But before he could strike, Malik held out his left hand, and a surge of energy shot from his fingertips, slamming into Nasir’s chest, sending him flying back ten feet through the air to land flat on his back with a crack on the hard ground.
    Stars fired off in Nasir’s line of sight. The training sword fell from his hand. He shook his head to clear his vision, then stilled when the tip of Malik’s blade pressed against his throat.
    “That, sahad ,” Malik said, glaring down at him, “was a warning. My magic is not completely bound here, like yours. Where I come from there are penalties for what you did to that female.”
    Malik withdrew the blade, stepped over Nasir before he could answer, and headed for the arched doorway on the far side of the ring. To the guard standing at the door, he barked, “Get him cleaned up and dump him back in his cell. And only half rations for him tonight.”
    Slowly, Nasir sat up, rubbed at his still-swimming head. Dust and sand flicked from his hair, rained down his shoulders. Every inch of his body hurt from the workout, but thankfully, no one besides his guards had seen his mu’allim kick his ass. Because he was the champion of Jahannam, he trained alone. He lived alone; he ate alone; when it came time, he’d die alone. Remembering what he’d done to that female last night without so much as a second thought, he knew being alone was best for everyone.
    He pushed up on his knee, cringed at the pain in his side. One look told him it wasn’t a pulled muscle as he’d thought. Blood dripped down his hip and onto his leg. Shaking off the sand, he picked up his training sword and hobbled toward the guards.
    “ This is not who you are, Nasir .”
    “It is fucking now,” he growled under his breath, not even slowing this time at the sound of Talah’s voice