Page 45 of Iblis' Affliction
“Then fucking kill him!” Ejder’s nostrils flared as his short, agitated breathing broke out of his chest in heavy puffs. “You don’t need him. We managed without him just fine.”
“No. I won’t put a horse down because it threw me off once. I want to explore his potential. I’m willing to take my chances with him, and for that you have to leave. It’s final. Next time you pull out a gun, I might not be able to stop him.”
A small muscle under Ejder’s eye twitched, betraying his unbalanced inner state. He licked his chapped lips, bared his teeth in a quick snarl, before dropping his chin. “What if he kills you?”
“Then you will be the next head of the Demir family. How cool would that be?”
“Not funny!” Ejder said, and Talha smiled. His hand landed on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed it.
“I’ll be fine. I need you in Mardin anyway. You leave tonight.”
EJDER GRANTED HIMa last pleading look in an attempt to make his brother reconsider. Implacable, Talha moved to the stairs. The door clicked closed behind his back, shutting off all foreign sounds. Quiet again, his house felt too big, yet too crowded with the two of them in it. Slater’s mere presence depressed him, and Talha needed a few hours of solitude to straighten his thoughts. He also needed to reorganize his group’s structure and delegate Ejder’s tasks to his lieutenants, but he wasn’t in the mood for that. His knuckles still burned from hitting Slater, and the drop of adrenaline in his blood made him feel sluggish, drowsy.
For a moment, he considered taking a nap but that would mean returning to the bedroom where the reaper slept on the bloody carpet. The thought brought back the haunting feeling of alienation, and the overpowering stench of chlorine only aggravated it. Though the body had been removed, and the cleaning crew scrubbed his house spotless, Talha couldn’t shake off the deep-bone aversion the events instilled in him. Nothing felt clean anymore, and he itched to take a shower. Slater’s blood on his knuckles burned like acid, yet he kept standing in the hall, unmoving.
The battering ram of memories charged into him, providing visuals of Slater’s bloody mouth, scarred back, round ass, and the heated look of the lewd eyes that stared at him, through him.
“Fuck my life!” Shame punched him in the face. He winced, spun on his heel, and rushed down the corridor toward the library, trying to escape guilt, shame, and memories.
THE BLACK SILHOUETTES OF TALLbookcases towered above him in the gloom. Weak light filtered through a tall mashrabiya window, casting ornaments to the walnut floor. A long desk stood closer to the opposite wall, with a marble globe on top of it.
Right…The library…The memory of his escape surfaced. A heavy book still lay on his stomach as he sprawled on a long leather sofa. He peered through the darkness, unable to remember switching the lights off. His back ached from the uncomfortable position, and his arm numbed from using it as a pillow. Sitting up, he cracked his neck, restarting the blood circulation and put his feet down.
“What the fuck?” He blurted as his foot stepped on something warm and soft. Frowning, he watched the dark shadow at his feet move. A shaggy head lifted, and a sleepy smile stretched the reaper’s lips.
“Morning, Master.”
“URGH!” Weariness crashed into Talha’s core as he sank his fingers into his hair and slumped onto the soft leather. “What are you doing here?”
“Master didn’t come to bed, so Slater came looking. Master should sleep. Slater will guard. Don’t worry, Master. Slater is calm now. Slater will be good.”
This must be a nightmare…Filling his lungs with air, Talha got up and stepped over the reaper as his feet carried him to the door.
“Master?” Slater’s voice picked up alert notes, and Talha glanced back. A single-visible eye glinting in the dark, Slater’s palm hit the sofa, his elbow quivered, as the reaper forced himself upright. “Where are you going?”
Slater swayed on his feet, palming the right side of his belly where the bullet had hit him. Talha didn’t care.
“Out. Don’t follow me.” Pushing the library door open, he strode toward the hall.
“Out where?”
“None of your business.” Approaching the main entrance, Talha reached out to grab the door handle, when vicious fingers seized his elbow, causing him to turn one hundred and eighty.
Their glares met. Despite the dark and swollen areas covering Slater’s face, Talha saw how pallid his skin was. “A woman again? Why? Wasn’t Slater good?”
“Were you good?” Talha almost laughed. It took him a moment to find his words and another one to form them into sentences. “Are you for real? You’re overwhelming and annoying. You murdered in my fucking house. You tell me. Were you good?” Talha reiterated as calm as he could.
“Slater thought Master is over it. Master didn’t kill Slater. It means Master accepted Slater.”
“The deal stands, but don’t push me. I’m tired of you and your quirks. Prove yourself useless, and I’ll get rid of you like a mad dog. Now, if your needs are satisfied, we have no business left to do today. Don’t follow me, and don’t kill anyone. If you do, our deal is off. For good.”
“No, Master can’t,” Slater’s cheek quivered, and Talha shook the reaper’s hand off himself.
“Who is forbidding me, Slater? You?” No reply. Talha added, “I can do whatever I want. Remember this well, and don’t leave the house. If you are hungry—order delivery. The money is in the safe in my bedroom. There is no lock you can’t open, right? Get yourself busy.”
Slater’s jaw clenched, and Talha strolled to his car.
“When will you be back, Master?” The question disturbed the warm, quiet night. Talha ignored, so Slater yelled, “Don’t run from me, Master! Get used to me!”
