Page 30 of Iblis' Affliction
“The second rule is: never disrespect me again.” Bending forward, Talha gripped Slater’s hair, making him look up, before backhanding his face. “The third rule is: no blood in my fucking house, you understand?”
Slater trembled. Watching Talha through the crescents of his half-closed eyes, he looked…Relieved?The red color flooding his face softened his features as he granted Talha a bloody smile. “Yes, Master.”
Releasing the tangled, wet hair, Talha added, “The fourth rule is: never make a mess in my house.”
He swung his leg, and the top of his right foot collided with Slater’s stomach, knocking him onto his back. Through the thickening haze of the adrenaline rush, Talha stepped forward and granted Slater with a couple more kicks to his ribs, pushing hoarse, fast breaths out of the ripper’s throat.
“Threaten me again, and I will kill you. You understand?”
“Ye-e-e-s-s,” he stretched the word out. As the challenge drained from Slater’s body, he glanced up with satisfaction. “More, Master. Make it hurt.”
What the fuck?Talha shrunk back; his focus slipped to his blood-covered foot. Slater’s reaction made him feel disgusted and dirty, but it also drained the fight out of his body, leaving only exhaustion behind. Bending forward, he grasped Slater’s elbow and tugged him up.
“Shower. Now. After you’re done, get rid of the head. When you’re back—we talk. Do what I say or go to hell.”
The younger man cringed then stumbled, almost dropping to the floor. Shaking his head, Talha heaved a sigh, tightened his grip, then dragged Slater toward the bathroom.
EASTERN ELEMENTS, FRESCOS,and grotesque niches decorated the teal and golden bathroom. The blue and silver mosaics on the walls interlinked with golden spider marble descending to the obsidian floor.
It took Slater a few moments to get his usual balance back. He didn’t look like he needed Talha’s help anymore, yet he never pulled his arm out of his grasp. Following, he let Talha push him into the shower cubicle.
“Undress.” The itch to wash the blood off himself curled Talha’s toes, but he ignored it, forcing his focus to Slater. “If you have anything in your pockets you want to keep, get it out and put it on the floor.”
Slater fished the karambit from behind his back, and a set of throwing knives from out of his boots. Fingers fumbling over his thighs, he pulled out five throwing needles from each side of his combat pants, then rolled his sleeves up and unfastened wrist-straps sheaths containing more throwing spikes from each arm.
Slater’s belt hit the floor. Talha snatched a plastic garbage bag from under the sink and held it open. “Next time you burn everything you wear, you clean yourself as good as you can before you come home. I’ll arrange a few places around the city where you can do it, but never again come here covered in blood. The staff should never see you like this, is it clear?”
“Master shouldn’t worry. No one saw Slater.” He pushed the pants down, stepped out of them, but wavered.
“What?”
“Tailor-made… Weapon adjusted.”
“Forget about it.”
Reluctantly, Slater dumped the pants in the bag, then peeled off his top, revealing a sinewy torso painted in crimson.
Fuck, no wonder he didn’t defend himself.Sour saliva flooded Talha’s mouth as he watched blood oozing out of a bullet wound on the left side of Slater’s lower belly, right above his hip. An inch away from the outer edge of his torso, the wound looked like the bullet passed through the muscle layer without causing any internal damage, yet blood kept streaming down Slater’s side.
Talha cringed as the guilt for hitting Slater and not paying attention to his condition sooner washed over.
“There is a lot of blood. Is it all yours?”
Bending forward, Slater pushed his trunks down, and Talha wondered how he could move with such blood loss. The wound didn’t seem to bother him at all. When the last piece of clothes disappeared into the garbage bag, Slater straightened up, not even a little embarrassed of his nakedness; quite the opposite, he appeared excited, thrilled, expectant. “No…”
Debating for a second if he should waste time cleaning the blood from the ripper, Talha passed Slater a small hand towel. “Apply pressure.”
Dropping a big, bath towel onto the floor, Talha ordered, “Get down,” then pressed the wall above the sink with both hands. The mosaic slab depressed and slid aside, revealing a hidden closet. Fetching the first aid kit, Talha put it on the floor next to Slater and kneeled by his side.
Slipping sterile gloves on, he picked a swab, soaked it in hydrogen peroxide, and cleaned the area around the wound, before pouring the rest of the solution into the wound. Connecting with the blood, the transparent liquid foamed, turning pink. Waiting for a moment, Talha took another bottle and repeated the process. With the bleeding subdued, he wiped the excessive moisture, examining the edges of the wound. Inflammation bloated the pink skin around the bullet hole.
Fuck…He unpacked sterile gauze, soaked it in hydrogen peroxide, then wrapped the end around the long tweezers.
“I have nothing to help with pain. Do you want to bite on something?” Hand hovering over the wound, he eyed Slater.
“No, Master. Slater is good.” He looked flustered, eyes glistening; his tongue slipped out and outlined his plump lips, wetting them.
“Suit yourself.” Talha shrugged, bringing his attention to the task. He hadn’t performed tamponade for years; his fingers felt stiff.
