Page 13 of Iblis' Affliction
Ignoring him, Slater straightened and moved toward the woman. An overwhelming flowery smell wafting in, spiraled nausea in his stomach, but step by step, he kept approaching. Their gazes interlinked and for the first time, he was able to study her small turned-up nose, soft chin, and big, bright eyes illuminating her marble-like face.So, this is what Master likes…
“Who is that?” she asked in a tone that demanded an immediate answer. Her features curled up with curiosity, not fear.
“No one,” Zaal said, fidgeting. The sour smell of his discomfort tickled Slater’s predatory instincts. “Just a dog. Ignore him, Hanimim[6].”
“Just a do-o-og?” she repeated, her coral lips parting in a smile.
Don’t call her Hanim; she isn’t your mistress!Slater suppressed a hiss. Irritation, bubbling in his stomach, rushed up his throat, urging him to make another small step, but Zaal’s large body rose in front of him, shielding the woman.
“Defol[7]!” Zaal warned, switching to Turkish, and reinforced the ‘go away’ order with a hand gesture. Pulling his gun out, he held it close to his hip so the woman wouldn’t notice.
Slater smirked as disdain corroded his blood. Zaal was only brave with a gun in his hand.Whatever…Pivoting, Slater stormed toward the bedroom, but Zaal’s bass stopped him in his tracks, syringing a new dose of abhorrence into his blood. “Not there, dog. Hanim is taking the master bedroom. You go to the basement.”
The invisible spring in his body shrieked with tension, transmitting waves of annoyance throughout his nerves. He spun on his heel and gave Zaal the once-over.
You think too much of yourself.The woman doesn’t belong. Not here.Granting the bodyguard a tight, promising smile, Slater decided that his patience with this man had reached its limit.Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you will pay for it… Master can’t protect you forever.
Shaking the insult off, Slater strolled toward the rear door, wanting to slip into the garden, but the ringing voice of the woman stopped him in his tracks. “Wait.”
The karambit burned the small of his back. With every second, the pull of the steel grew stronger, but Slater knew Master didn’t like his home messy. He spun, meeting her piercing gaze.
“What’s your name?” The woman eyed him up and down, as if evaluating a property.
Slater didn’t reply.
“Hanimim, pleaze don’t talk to him. He only followz Reis[8]’s orderz.”
“Really? Master’s only?” Her smile grew brighter as she drilled him with her tenacious eyes. She squared her shoulders, and her transparent white blouse stretched over her breasts. “Then you should serve me too. Bring the bags of your Mistress to the Master’s bedroom. I want to surprise Talha.”
“Surprise Master?” Slater cocked his head and responded to her smile. The spring in his body vibrated with pressure, ready to burst. “Certainly, Mistress-s.”
He stole a glance outside. Two men stood by the black jeep with darkened windows; a great number of suitcases gathered by the doors.
Ignoring the surprise and confusion written all over Zaal’s face, Slater picked up the nearest suitcase. “Follow me, Mistress-s.”
Two pairs of eyes burned the spot between his shoulder blades as he climbed the stairs. One—curious and impatient; the other—wary and full of mistrust.
Turning left, he strolled to the farthest end of the corridor and jammed a carved, wooden door open. The intense smell of oils surrounded him, instantly calming him. Drenched in bitter almond and leather, with soft notes of nutmeg, the vast, dark bedroom smelled like home, like Master’s skin.
“Why does it smell like cyanide here?” the woman whispered, following him in. Her gaze traveled up and down the tall carved columns that separated a shisha lounge from a sleeping area, then slowly grazed over the floor.
Trying to ignore her remark, Slater placed the suitcase on the mahogany floor, but the burning in his chest aggravated. Something ugly twitched in his heart, spurting venom in his blood.
This feeling was new. Slater had always killed for pleasure. The screams, the fear on his victims’ faces, the dying light in their eyes, everything gave him a thrill. He killed, obeying the law of the strongest, never thinking, never regretting. He chose Master for this reason. He despised many but never before had he loathed with such passion. Everything about this woman, from her shiny platinum hair to her long nails, troubled him.
“It’s so dark in here,” she breathed, examining the golden walls, wooden arabesques, and Persian carpets. “This smell gives me a headache. Ask someone to open the windows, please.” Zaal nodded; she continued, “Change the linens, and I want a roast turkey for dinner.”
Her heels clattered against the floor as she ambled through the room, gawking but halted halfway, as the tip of her red, pointy shoe caught a Persian carpet. Vintage, as if beaten up with time, it had a grunge effect created by the nearly worn off red color.
“You…” she called, and Slater froze; only the corner of his mouth twitched, wanting to stretch into a predatory smile. “What’s your name again?” Never receiving the answer, she heaved a sigh. “Help me to remove this hideous carpet, okay? It looks so old and dirty…”
“That’s not dirt,” Slater corrected in a low voice. “That’s my blood…”
“Huh?” She tilted her head and scrunched her nose. “Come on, help me!”
Slater didn’t move. His memory trailed to the days when he’d started living with Master, but the carpet had already been there. He couldn’t imagine entering this bedroom and not seeing this carpet ever again. At nights, when he’d been bad and Master didn’t let him in the bed, Slater slept on this carpet. He wasn’t sure anymore if the red color was the original or painted with drops of his blood. He had kneeled and bled here so many times that he wouldn’t be able to count the occasions even if he tried.
No, the woman doesn’t belong.He squeezed his eyes as the spring in his body constricted and combusted. Unwrapping, it shredded the orders Master instilled in his mind along with the shades of humanity.
