Slowly, she pushed up from the stained mattress and stood in front of him on legs she hoped he couldn’t see trembling. This close, every flexing muscle beneath his skin, every ounce of waiting power was visible. And she could smell him. Not disgusting and revolting as he’d been before, but clean, male, strangely…enticing.
She gave herself a mental slap. Yeah, at first she’d been mesmerized by his show in the arena and, like other females who’d watched his fights, couldn’t deny he was the perfect male specimen, all sculpted lean muscles and brawny sinew. But she wasn’t attracted to him. He was simply the first hurdle on her path to freedom.
“I’m not a slave,” she lied, praying he’d never learn the truth. “And I volunteered to be your…prize.”
His eyes narrowed once more, but she didn’t let it deter her. This was the only card she had to play, and she’d bluff all the way to her grave if she had to. “I thought I made it perfectly clear yesterday that I don’t want you.”
Fear flashed through her when she remembered his hand around her throat. Fear she hoped didn’t show in her eyes. Thankfully, the bruises were small and, in this light, probably not even visible. Steeling her nerves, she moved a small step closer, even as the heat of his body encircled her and that intoxicatingly fresh scent she now knew was all him left her light-headed.
“Your wants are of no concern,” she said. “And you’re lucky the highborns didn’t kill you for the way you treated me last night. They’re giving you a second chance. It goes without saying that a gift like this can’t—and won’t—be refused…slave.”
She didn’t miss the sharp burst of anger that rippled through his eyes at her use of the word “slave.” But she also saw the bitter bite of truth when he realized she was right.
Fear and hope swirled together in her stomach. The trap was laid. Now she just had to go in for the kill.
Could she do this?
Her nerves jangled. Her stomach tightened with indecision.
For life? For freedom…?
Yes. Reality settled like a granite stone in the bottom of her stomach as she stared into his dark, unreadable eyes, giving her a courage she’d lacked before. A courage she’d need if she wanted to win this game. She could do this. To stay alive, she would do this.
She took another slight step forward, lifted a hand, and slowly rested it against his rock-hard chest. He didn’t move a muscle, only stared at her with hard, onyx eyes she knew she’d remember forever. But heat and life pulsed beneath her palm, warming her from the outside in, amping that courage from the ground up.
Gathering every ounce of strength, she whispered, “The easiest way to get rid of me, sahad, is to take the gift now.”
Chapter Five
Nasir’s heart raced beneath the highborn’s hand.
He was male, and she was as close as any female had been in months, so it made sense he’d react to her. But even with his djinn powers bound, he could tell something was off.
Gone was the scared and timid female he’d spent a long and miserable night locked with in this cell. Gone was the one who’d cowered from him when the Ghul had brought her to view him that first day. Unlike before, now she stood proud and confident, her head held high, her chin jutted out in challenge. But there was something in her eyes…a spark of unease, a hint of worry…and the slightest tremble to her lower lip that told him she wasn’t quite as sure as she wanted him to believe.
The contrast sent questions swirling through his mind. Was his humiliation some new perverse form of amusement to the Ghuls? Had she been sent here to break him mentally since they couldn’t break him physically in the arena? Disgust rolled through his stomach. They could beat him. They could make him fight. But he wasn’t going to willingly be manipulated. Whoever she was and for whatever reason she was here, he didn’t care.
He closed his hand over her wrist, then whipped her around so her back was plastered to his front and his arms were closed around her, locking her against him.
“Sahad—”
“Listen to me very carefully, female,” he said into her ear, ignoring the soft curves of her ass pressing into his groin, the heat from her body radiating into his, and the silky smooth feel of her bare skin against his. “I don’t care what you or your highborn friends have planned. I’m not a pawn in your fucking game. And I won’t be told what—or who—to do.”
He released her, flinging her around to face him once more, then stepped back. Surprise—and yes, a new shot of fear—widened her eyes. Her balance went out from under her, and she dropped onto the mattress with a grunt. “But you can’t—”
Definitely not as confident as she wanted him to believe.
“I’m also not in the mood to talk.” Nodding toward the food he’d dropped when he’d walked in and seen her sound asleep on his bed, he said, “If you’re hungry, eat. You’ve already ruined my appetite. But stay the hell on your side of the cell. And when they come for you tomorrow, make sure you don’t return.”
He blew out the candle on the table beside the bed, then moved into his corner and lowered himself to the blanket on the floor. Pain radiated up his side, and he was so exhausted all he wanted was sleep. But he knew he’d get neither relief nor rest with the female in his cell. Not tonight, anyway.
For several long moments, silence echoed through the room, then the springs on the bed creaked, and very quietly, whispered words echoed through the room. “It’s not my game.”
He wasn’t sure if she’d said them or if he’d imagined them, but he didn’t care. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. Only a sliver of light splayed under the cell door, illuminating a mere few feet, but he could see that the female had ignored the food he’d offered and lain back down. Except this time—though she was once again on her side with her hands tucked up near her face—her black dress completely covered her legs, and her eyes were wide and, very definitely, not the least bit sleepy.
He closed his eyes to block her out, leaned his head back against the stones, and saw her determined eyes in his mind. Green eyes, he’d noticed in the candlelight, like shimmering emeralds. Followed by the drape of curly red hair around her shoulders, the neckline of her black dress dipping low into seductive cleavage, and the strap on her shoulder falling to her upper arm, all but begging to be tugged off. With his teeth.
Fuck, this was going to be a long-ass night.
He swiped a hand down his face, brushing away sweat that had gathered on his brow. If they’d handpicked her to mess with his head, they’d done one hell of a good job in the selection. It wasn’t just that she was hotter than sin—smooth features, a slightly upturned nose, mesmerizing eyes, and a body he already knew was made to be touched—or that he’d been without female companionship for ages. It was the fact she vacillated between confident and afraid, that she stood her ground even when she wasn’t sure of his reaction. That she’d come back at all after what he’d done to her yesterday.
She had to be stupid, brainwashed, or simply fucked in the head.
It’s not my game.
An odd sensation rolled through his belly, stopping his train of thought. Had she come by choice? Or had she been forced? His mind spiraled back to that first day, when the Ghul had pushed her forward. The amusement the male had exuded; the fear radiating from her. Was she as much a chess piece in all of this as he was?
Except…that didn’t make sense. She was Ghul. Not only that, she was a highborn Ghul.