Page 64 of Iblis' Affliction
I should kill him… It’s time to admit that I was never able to control him. He was never completely loyal to me. Only to himself. I liked to think that he belonged to me, but I don’t even know what’s going on in his head.
The last thought lit a match in the oily pond of his dormant anger.He raped me. He disgraced me. He murdered people who trusted me, were loyal to me. There is only one way out of this mess—he should die. Even if I don’t kill him, Ejder will never let it go. Me, disconnecting the machine now, would be mercy. So many people died. We lost England, and we are about to have a war with the Hale Family. I can’t protect him anymore. I shouldn’t protect him anymore. If I stand against my people, I’ll drown Turkey in blood. And for what?
His glare fixed on Slater’s immobile frame.
For a disloyal dog who only wanted to fuck.
Yet, despite the thoughts, he didn’t approach the ventilator, as a single look at Slater’s closed eyes reanimated the feverish whisper in his memory.‘Slater isn’t stupid. Master will leave Slater as soon as Master is free. Then Slater will be alone in Hell. Only Slater and Hanim.’
Talha’s throat closed with a bitter emotion he didn’t have the mental capacity to classify.
“I can’t forgive you. It’s not the first time you betrayed me, but this is the last one,” Talha whispered. “There is a price on your head. Even if I cancel the contract, how many people have figured out your identity? Half of the criminal world of Anatolia wishes to see Iblis dead. You are a walking target. What you’ve started is unstoppable. I can’t risk Ejder’s life and the lives of people who trust me, to save yours. I can’t start a war I won’t be able to win.”
Even while sleeping, Slater’s face wore a grim expression, and Talha voiced the unsaid question the reaper would definitely ask if he was awake, “Why did Master promise not to leave Slater? If Master left Slater in the mosque, it would have ended where it started. It would be so much easier—walk away and never look back.”
Talha sighed. “Indeed, why? Why can’t I leave you? Why can I never give you up? You are such a shitty assassin, Slater. You cause me so many problems… You are so fucking needy, so troublesome.”
Talha smirked, remembering the Royal Game and the lousy job Slater had done with covering his tracks when he reprinted Salik’s footprints, and how he carelessly used his karambits to dig the snake-trap. How furious Talha became finding a curvy print from a claw-knife on the pit wall.
Back then, he wanted to kill Slater. Despite clearly seeing two pairs of prints—one above the other—he had never informed anyone about Slater’s presence. Two reasons had stopped him. First, he didn’t know Slater’s agenda. The way he’d chosen to disable Talha’s people suggested that he wished no deaths. Talha suspected that it was either payback for leaving him home or yet another test. The second reason was way more serious. Telling people that Iblis sided with Salik would result in two outcomes. People would panic and run, leaving Salik in the woods; or the game would turn into a bloody, devil-hunting adventure very few would survive. So he’d kept his mouth shut, watching and analyzing until he grew tired of the meaningless chase and screams full of pain. It didn’t matter who Slater was. No one was allowed to make a fool of him and his traditions.
Leaving his people behind, Talha had stepped into the woods alone, wondering if this was what Slater wanted. Finding Salik was easy, but he had been surprised that Slater never interrupted his hare chase, even though he gave him enough time to show up. After knocking Salik out and firing the signal gun to inform his people that the Royal Game had ended, he examined the knife Salik had used. His suspicion confirmed. Lacking a manufacturer’s mark, the weapon was bespoke. None of his people would carry anything like this, let alone gift it to Salik. The thought irritated even more, as he’d imagined Slater watching the combat from afar, waiting for one of them to die. And to set the example, Talha had delivered a brutal death to Salik so Slater would think twice before betraying him again. Except, back then, he didn’t know that to keep Slater in check, he would have to constantly play a meaningless game of domination.
If he had met Slater in the woods, he had no doubts that he would have killed him, but the long road back home provided him with a lot of thinking time.
By the time he returned home, his righteousness diminished. The thought that Slater hadn’t killed anyone didn’t leave his mind, throwing him in a loop of unanswered questions. What did Slater want? Was it another test? If so, did he pass? Or, maybe, it was another sick game?
Talha didn’t know.
Slater’s combat knife burned his skin when he’d entered his bedroom. He wasn’t sure if he should approach the reaper about the topic, but seeing the honey syrup drip from Slater’s wrist to his bedsheets, he’d stopped caring. His voice was calm when he’d tossed the knife to Slater and ordered him to change the linens.
Talha shook his head, remembering the blinding smile Slater had granted him that evening as if Talha did exactly what Slater wanted, needed. Brushing his fingers over his lips, Talha sank in the memories of the night Slater came into his bed once again.
5 YEARS AGO
“PLAY WITH ME, MASTER.”Sweet breath crashed against Talha’s cheek and kicked him out of his sleep better than any slap could. Hot weight sat astride his abdomen, as vigorous fingers slithered over his bandaged chest. Moving on its own, Talha’s palm darted forward and collided with Slater’s chest. Glossy and tacky, it slicked under his fingers, making him wonder if Slater smeared himself with oils.
For better sex? For advantage in a fight? For both?
Slater leaned closer, raw hunger in his eyes.
Swallowing the first alertness, Talha schooled his features into mild annoyance before slapping the switch with his spare hand. Golden light, coming from the lamp on his left, illuminated Slater’s mottled skin. A rash of small red dots spread from his fingers up to his elbows. Noticing a sprinkle of rare white bumps mixed in, Talha assumed these were constantly itchy ant stings. The rest of his body wore bloated clusters of random sized welts, left by other insects.
Not oils. Ointment. He’s itchy.
“Haven’t you played enough in the woods? It looks like you had a lot of fun.” Observing the tormented skin, Talha spotted the thickest and reddest bump, below the left collarbone; purple scratch marks surrounded it. With a smirk, hepoked the disturbed skin with his finger.
The reaper hissed, eyes wide with disbelief. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he leveled Talha with a warning glare. “Don’t do this, Mas-s-ster…”
Talha’s anger vanished, as Slater furiously scratched the bump. He imagined the reaper cursing in the night, trying to relocate the anthill, ants stinging his hands and crawling under his clothes, yet, he’d never given up. The vivid image in his head broke the hanging tension. Laughter burst from his chest rocking his body.
Angry suspicion narrowed Slater’s eyes as a question formed behind his blown pupils, still, Talha couldn’t stop laughing. He thought that if he didn’t know Slater, he would have never believed he was Iblis. He looked so miserable, tearing at his itchy bump with his nails. If the trap in the forest had infuriated him, now it resembled a childish call for attention. Gasping for air, Talha wiped his running eyes, giving Slater a fresh, examining look.
Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe he is an overgrown kid who never had a childhood or choice. Maybe he wants to be noticed?
Fighting a smile had never been this hard. “Did you have fun? Was it worth it?”
“Yes, Master.” Slater grinned, his transparent eyes twinkling with mischief. “And about to have some more.”
