Page 62 of Iblis' Affliction
Licking his lips, Talha rolled to his side. The chamber lightened a fraction, as the dull gray light crawled in, and soon enough he was able to recognize the pale face, glistening with perspiration, half-opened mouth, closed eyes, and chest rising and falling in deep, rhythmical breaths.
Talha’s gaze darted all over Slater’s body, making out his wrist straps and military boots.
I need to move him…
He wasn’t sure he could position Slater’s body high enough for his fingers to reach the karambit or a throwing knife, but he could roll Slater’s arm high enough for him to grab a throwing needle. As soon as the idea formed, he chased it away. He’d spent what felt like hours rubbing the rope against the floor but caused no damage. Stabbing it would not result in an immediate release.
Biting his lower lip, Talha inched his hips up and left, moving Slater’s body toward his tied up arm. Slater didn’t flinch, and he repeated the process. Slowly, inch by inch he pushed his lower body up, completing a forty-five-degree angle. When Slater’s back thrust against his arm, Talha stretched the ropes and extended his fingers. Swallowing, he traced up the tactical belt, looking for the sheath. The limits of the bonds, when his middle finger hooked a metal ring of the knife handle. Pushing out a long, controlled exhale, Talha tugged the karambit out of the sheath. Flipping it around his fingers, he gripped the handle and glided the edge against the rope. The evil grip tightened around his wrist, as the bonds bit into his skin. The blade nibbled at the rope, slowly gnawing its way through it, and Talha realized that Slater must have used a durable climbing rope to tie him.
Working his wrist up and down, he felt the rope vibrate, tighten, and tear. Every muscle shrieked with intensified circulation as he slowly lifted his upper body. The blood, slamming into his head plunged the room into darkness and forced him to slap the ground with his palm. His spine cracked as Slater’s head rolled off his shoulder and bumped against the ground. The younger man flinched, sat up, and his muddy gaze fixed on Talha.
Talha’s heart leaped to his throat as Slater’s confused look traveled down his hand and fixed on the knife.
“Huh… Master is free.” A cruel smile stretched the left side of Slater’s mouth, and his face darkened.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Talha put the knife to the ground and backhanded Slater’s face with his free hand. “Enough, Slater.”
Head whipping to the side, Slater hunched forward but didn’t attempt to look up again. Swallowing thick saliva, Talha picked up the karambit, flipped it in his hand, and offered it to Slater handle forward.
“Release me. Now.”
Slater chuckled. Head rolling to the side, he granted Talha a hard stare. “Master is strong. Slater is weak. Master can do what Slater can’t. Strong should live.”
Getting onto his knees, Slater took the knife and cut the other rope, before sitting back on his heels. His gaze glued to an invisible spot on the floor. He didn’t raise his eyes even when Talha got to his feet and strolled down the chamber.
“Where are my clothes?”
“Next room.” The dull answer drowned in the darkness.
Slamming the door open, Talha entered the vast, almost empty room, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t smell the suffocating stench of decay. A dim electric lamp hung above the door, the light barely strong enough to recognize the dirty red color of the walls. Another door drowned in the gloom at the opposite wall. Approaching the corner, he grabbed his cock and, aiming at the wall, let go. His aching bladder, releasing, sent a rush of endorphins down his spine. His head fell backward as relief washed over. Shaking the drops off the tip, Talha examined his surroundings. Carefully folded, his clothes lay on a stool that stood by the right wall, close to the door. Picking up his pants, he quickly tugged them on and hurried back to the chamber.
Slater lay on the floor on the same spot where Talha had been lying five minutes ago. His fingers drew small circles at the ground.
“Get up,” Talha ordered.
“Leave, Master…” Slater croaked. “Leave before Slater changes his mind. Slater won’t follow you anymore. Slater will stay here.”
Swallowing the rising anger, Talha sucked in a deep breath, then blew out the air of irritation. His gaze landed on Camilla’s head. How fast death took away her beauty, covering her smooth skin with green spots. How fast her eyes lost their color. Grabbing Slater’s backpack, Talha picked up Camilla’s arm, then stumbled toward her head. Dropping on his knees, he touched her icy cheeks but a strong hand seized his forearm.
“No, Master. Leave her. Hanim stays with Slater. Slater will guard her sleep. Slater will share her fate.” Staining Talha’s soul with his listless, muddy gaze, Slater released his wrist and rested his head against the ground. “Hanim is broken, so is Slater. We don’t belong up there. Master doesn’t need broken things. But when Master breaks someone else, Master can bring them here, to the graveyard of his broken toys. Now, leave, Master. We will be waiting for you in Hell.”
Talha’s fists itched to smash this face bloody, but he had no time for it. Leashing his anger, he ordered, “Get up.”
When Slater didn’t waver, Talha carefully took Camilla’s head in his hands and put it in the backpack. Hooking it over his shoulders, he grabbed the front of Slater’s shirt.
“Get the fuck up!”
“No… Slater doesn’t want to.”
“Get up!” Jerking Slater’s shirt, Talha pushed the words through gritted teeth, then backhanded Slater’s face.
“Master is funny. So selfish…” Slater grinned. The angry glow lit up his eyes; he hissed, “Leave now, Master, or I will get mad.”
“Then get mad, because I’m fucking furious,” Talha said, wanting to smash this beautiful face against the floor. Anger, confusion, relief, desperation—everything mixed, shuffling white and black. He was furious at Slater for raping him, for slaughtering everyone in his house, for kicking the shit out of him, for locking him down here for days. He was mad at Slater for never saying anything about his feelings and angry at himself for never noticing Slater’s distress. He was so mad, that he wasn’t even sure he was mad at all or just tired. “Don’t even dream about dying here in peace after what you have done. I’ll be the one to decide when and how you will die, and trust me, it won’t be merciful.”
Without thinking, he hauled Slater’s upper body toward himself and collided his lips with Slater’s. Unable to control his emotions, he sank his teeth into the full bottom lip, and the metallic taste bloomed on his tongue. Talha withdrew, leaving the reaper blinking in confusion. He couldn’t remember ever being this pissed in his life. He needed Slater to get furious too, it only seemed fair. He wanted to see a cruel grin and hear words full of hatred, so he could hit his beautiful face, but instead, Slater’s lips quivered. The reaper lowered his chin, trying to glue a smile to his face, but it constantly slipped off.
“Master is so cruel.”
