Page 85 of Iblis' Affliction
“Follow me.” Metal jiggled in Master’s voice, turned blood in Slater’s veins into liquid ice.
“Master?” Getting to his knees, he fidgeted. Their eyes met. The blood drained from Slater’s face, as Talha’s amber glare was colder than ever before.
“Don’t talk.” Void of emotion, Talha’s voice came out flat. Slater reached into his memory to replay it and analyze the intonation, but Talha strolled down the corridor.
Dread snaked down his spine and curled in his stomach, making him believe that as soon as Talha disappeared from his field of vision the illusion would disperse, and once again he would be stuck in the hospital room, all alone. Hurrying after Master, he tried to contain his unsettled emotions, but as soon as he looked up at Talha’s back, his heart ached making him feel like dying. So he kept trailing behind with his gaze glued to Talha’s shoes and his heart drumming in his ears, louder with every step he took.
The metal doors of the elevator closed behind him, making his muscles hurt from spasming. He couldn’t relax even if he tried to. Standing within arm’s reach yet unable to touch Master wrenched out his every nerve, but it didn’t seem to disturb Talha. His breathing remained calm and rhythmical, his face—a mask of dispassion, and his eyes looking straight ahead of him.
Slater rarely feared anything, as fear was tantamount to a weakness. However, he couldn’t ignore the dense ball of apprehension that formed in the pit of his stomach, that as soon as Master started talking, he would tell him to go away.
Slater wanted Master to keep silent forever, yet, he couldn’t bear the mind-numbing stillness anymore. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to break this silence but closed it, unable to break Talha’s order. Sucking the air through his nose, he inhaled the faint smell of bitter almond and leather, mixed with warm notes of freshly brewed coffee.
His stomach clenched. He missed this scent and the warmth of Talha’s skin, the sting of Talha’s teeth clenching over his collarbone, the boiling amber of his eyes, brimming with lust and something else Slater could never name.
This is stupid…Slater opened his mouth again, determined to speak, but the doors hissed open. Talha stepped out, never looking back. Dropping his chin, Slater followed. He kept silent all the way from the hospital to the car, and grounded his teeth when Master pointed to the rear passenger seat.
The absence of bodyguards didn’t escape his attention, nor did the fact that Talha took the wheel. He rarely drove alone, meaning he didn’t want prying eyes watching them. Slater’s heart raced.
Fixing his eyes at the reflection in the rearview mirror, he burned his Master’s face with his thirsty stare. With all his being, he wished for Talha to look at him, but the amber eyes were focused on the road. Not even once did they stray to Slater.
The familiar contours of the mansion, surfacing behind the window, made his jaw hurt with pressure. Fingers crumpling the sleeves of his black shirt, he watched Talha guide the car through the gates and park it in front of the main entrance. Unsure what to do, Slater scrutinized every move of his master, searching for a sign or mute order, but Talha unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car. Watching Master’s powerful frame disappear behind the doors, Slater stumbled after.
His soft shoes silently skidded over the marble floor and stairs, as he followed Talha upstairs. The insignificant flickers of the bloody night his memory provided added to his anxiety. He didn’t register entering the office but startled when the door shut behind him.
For four long weeks, he’d waited for this meeting, aching to see Talha and hear his voice. To fall on his knees and press his forehead to his master’s hand and stay like this forever. Now, paralyzed under Talha’s executive glare, he didn’t dare breathe.
“You know, four weeks weren’t nearly enough for me to face you and remain calm,” Talha said, and Slater’s stomach cramped. Sinking to his knees, he dropped his gaze; his fingers curling over his lap. Talha sighed and picked up a slim folder from the windowsill behind him. “Take this and disappear.”
“What?” Slater’s head jerked up before he realized it, and a gun fell into the picture. The black, matte metal absorbed the bright daylight, as it rested on the edge of the windowsill, handle forward. Slater’s eyes strained as he searched for a shadow of a smile on Talha’s face but read only determination.
“This is your bank account information with payments for every kill you did for me. This should be enough for you to start over. Take this and leave the country tonight,” Talha said, tossing the folder toward the ripper. It fell on the floor a few feet away from his knee. “Pick it up and go away.”
Slater is dreaming. This isn’t real…Slater gaped at the brown paper folder.
“No.” He barely heard himself say, forcing his stinging eyes to look up. “Slater won’t leave.”
“Then you die,” Talha said matter-of-factly, examining his nails, as if the non-existent dirt he could find under them was more interesting than Slater. “You don’t have a choice.”
Slater narrowed his eyes, then cocked his head in denial.Master can’t mean it…
Refusing to believe it, Slater swallowed and carefully pressed his palm to the hardwood floor in front of him. Cold and dusty, it wore the evidence of desolation.
Did Master lose everything and now can’t afford a maid?But he didn’t hang on the thought for long as it mattered not. Historically, money, power, and influence had always changed hands like a cheap, syphilitic whore, infecting the world. Illusive, they bore no value for him, because he knew that the real power was silent, invisible, yet deadly—like his karambit.
“Don’t fucking move!” Talha warned, but Slater put the other hand forward, making the first crawling step toward Talha. Eyes glowing with hatred, Talha shouted, “I said, don’t fucking move!”
That was new. Master rarely raised his voice and never yelled. Slater froze, facing the muzzle of a gun pointed at his eye. He flinched, as realization sank in.Master isn’t joking. Master doesn’t want Slater anymore.
Talha’s cheek twitched as he started talking in a hurried, feverish manner. Never before had Slater seen Talha so agitated. “You don’t even realize what you have done. What your actions cost me. I’m not even talking about money, but the people who trusted me, worked for me? Zaal... You baked him like a fucking pig when all he had ever done was protecting you from yourself. He was one of ours, Slater!”
“Slater missed Master.” Taking another crawling step, he feasted on Talha’s emotion. Potent and rich, they painted the world in bright colors, making him feel alive. His chest felt so full he thought he was dying. He almost smiled, realizing that Talha was mad, not indifferent. He could deal with anger, but not with disdain.
“Shut up.” Finger, gliding over the matte steel, removed the safety.
“Slater will do everything for Master...”
“Do what? What else can you possibly do?” Talha laughed. His eyes so bright, they shimmered with a touch of insanity. Talha shook his head, took a long breath, and rubbed his brow with the heel of his armed hand, the barrel stirring his hair strands. When he spoke again, his voice sounded calm. “You don’t even realize what you’ve done, do you? Dogs like you don’t have remorse. Even if I could have forgiven you for losing London, I can’t forgive the bloodshed and what you did to me.”
