Tariq’s expression shifted from soft to sad. “We can’t find them.”
“Oh, Tariq…”
“They both wore opals like mine. They’re still bound to the Firebrand opal and Zoraida as I was. We don’t know where they went.”
That thrill she’d felt moments before withered and died. And the consequences of what she’d done spiraled through her. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I put my necklace in the bottle. That’s how I trapped the sorceress. But the bottle slipped out of my fingers into the river, and I couldn’t reach it. I didn’t realize—”
“Shh…” He placed two fingers over her lips. “It’s okay, hayaati. No one’s blaming you. Zoraida enslaved my brothers, not you. You have nothing to feel bad about. You freed me. You freed my kingdom. And you gave me a chance to someday free my brothers.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your spirit was stronger than most females Zoraida sent me to corrupt. That’s why she needed your soul. It would have fueled her powers that much more. But it was your strength that drew me. I felt a connection to the stone—through you—I never felt with anyone else. And even though I was no longer bound to the opal after you freed me, I sensed when you were released from its hold. We have djinn searching for the necklace. It will be found. And so will my brothers.”
“What about the sorceress?”
“When we find the bottle, we’ll figure out a way to contain her.”
It sounded logical. And she knew with all the magic in his realm, if anyone could find a way, it would be him. Then she remembered his first words.
“Why did it take you so long to find me?” she asked. “What did you mean, ‘without magic’?”
That toe-curling smile warmed his lips again. “I asked my father to let me come back here, to search for the necklace myself. To be with you.”
Her heart leaped, and tears stung her eyes all over again. “You did?” she asked on a whisper.
He nodded. “There’s a catch, though. The longer I stay, the more human I become. My magic will fade until it’s finally gone. I figured I should get used to being human, so I tried looking for you without it. But I didn’t expect to look for you clear across the country. I eventually gave up and used just a little. I needed to find you.”
She could barely believe what she was hearing. “You mean if you stay with me, you’ll eventually lose your immortality?”
“Djinn aren’t immortal. We just live a very long time.”
And he was giving that up for her. Those tears burned hot all over again. “Why would you do that?”
“Do you really have to ask?” He cupped her cheek. “Losing my magic is a much smaller sacrifice than what you were willing to give up for me. I would rather spend one human lifetime with you than a thousand without you. You complete my soul—a part I didn’t even know was missing. I would go through all of Zoraida’s torture again just to end up with you here, right now. Mira…hayaati…I love you.”
Mira’s chest was so tight she could barely breathe. She threw her arms around his neck, held on with everything she had in her. She’d wanted to be desirable. She’d wanted to find a love that would last the ages. She had. It just hadn’t been at all what she’d expected.
“I love you too, Tariq. I—” She couldn’t get the words out. She couldn’t do anything but hold on for the rest of her life.
He chuckled against her neck. “Oh, I’m glad to hear that, because I’m going to need you to teach me all about life in the human world. I think I’ve a lot to learn.”
She eased back. Smiled up at him in the early afternoon light. And knew the wish she’d made weeks ago was the best wish of her life. “You want me to teach you something? Wish for it, djinni.”
His grin warmed the last cold space inside her. “My only wish is for you.”
“Your wish, my command,” she whispered as his lips lowered to hers once more.
Don’t miss the next book in the Firebrand series…
Coming August 2012
CHAPTER ONE
Pain rippled through every inch of Nasir’s body.
Muscles in his arms and legs quivering, he pushed up on his hands. Gravel and sand embedded in his palms, stabbed into his bare knees. Through bloody and sweat-dripping hair, he looked toward the Shaitan across the arena, breathing heavily, lifting his axe, ready to hurl the killing blow.
Roars from the crowd dragged Nasir’s attention. His gaze shifted to the stands, to the Ghuls waving their fists, chanting kill!, kill!, kill!as if he were nothing more than an animal.
He ground his teeth, pushed up on his knee. Refused to groan at the blinding pain in his shoulder. He wouldn’t go down like this. Not on all fours in the fighting pits of Jahannam, as entertainment for the most base and depraved djinn tribe. He wasn’t afraid to die, but he wouldn’t do it as a coward. And if he was going out, he planned to take the Shaitan out along with him.
Fire cut across his ribs. His muscles ached as he pushed to his feet, swayed but somehow managed to steady himself. Blood dripped from the gash in his side, ran down his torso to turn the cloth tied at his hips red. His vision swayed.
He tried to focus on the djinn ahead. At the looming hand of death. As a slave, the Shaitan’s powers were bound in the arena, just as Nasir’s were, but the bastard didn’t seem to mind. He had size and brute strength on his side. A smile cut across his face. He knew Nasir was fading fast.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
The roars grew louder. The Shaitan growled and charged. Gathering what was left of his energy, Nasir ducked beneath the swinging axe, thrust out his sword and caught the Shaitan across the back.
Blood spurted across Nasir and the ground. The Shaitan arched his back and howled. Nasir’s adrenaline surged, giving him the strength he’d lost. Whipping around before the djinn could strike again, he stabbed his sword into the Shaitan’s back.
The Shaitan’s eyes flew wide. The axe fell from his hand as he dropped to his knees. Blood gushed over the ground beneath his body, staining the sand of the arena. Breathing heavy, Nasir yanked his blade from the dying djinn’s body, whipped around and beheaded him in one clean move.
The Shaitan’s head hit the ground with a thud, followed by his body. Gasps echoed through the arena, then the chants fell silent.
Nasir’s chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm as he looked up into the stands. Disgust rolled through him. They were savages. Every single one of them. Ghuls held no allegiance to any other race of djinn. They didn’t care if the winner of this battle was Marid or Shaitan. All they wanted was to be entertained by a gruesome death.
He’d given them that these last few weeks. And though it sickened him, he knew he’d give them more. Staying alive was the greatest act of rebellion Nasir could thrust upon those who had imprisoned him in this hell.
His arms shot to the ceiling, and he roared.
The crowd exploded in excitement. Females jumped up and down, clapping, waving vibrant colored scarves his direction. Males cheered at the bloodbath at his feet.
Adrenaline pumped through Nasir’s veins. He turned a slow circle, clenched his empty hand into a fist, stabbed his sword higher into the air as he drank in their ovations. He was a Marid warrior, son of the great king, and he’d decimated every-fucking-thing those barbarian Ghuls had thrown at him.
This is not who you are.
The voice hit him out of nowhere. Soft. Feminine. Sweet. So familiar it stole his breath.
He dropped his arms to his side. Turned to look behind him. Only there was no one close. He was alone on the sand. In the deafening noise, he looked up into the stands, his gaze skipping from one exuberant face to the next, searching for her. But she wasn’t there. All he saw were hundreds of Guhls, features of his enemy blending together in a wash of color until he couldn’t focus on a single one. Until the arena spun around him.
Something in his chest cinched down tight, followed by the memory of Talah’s face. Her smile. Her gentle spirit. The way she?
??d brushed her hand against his jaw and looked at him with longing and love that last day, when he’d left her to fight his father’s war.
When he’d left her to die.
This is not who you are, Nasir.
She would not support this. She wouldn’t be awed by his victory. She’d hated death as much as he had.
The adrenaline waned, leaving him empty and cold inside. Leaving him feeling as dead as the Shaitan on the sand at his feet.
His gaze drifted down to the mutilated body, and for the first time since he’d been imprisoned—for the first time since he’d lost Talah, really—he didn’t recognize himself. All he saw was the monster he’d become.
* * *
Kavin pulled back on the hand gripping her upper arm. “There has to be someone else.”
Zayd turned to face her, stopping in the dank hallway of the dungeon beneath the arena. Cries of agony echoed through the stone walls around them, making Kavin’s stomach churn at the torture she could only imagine. The scent of death was ever present, but Zayd didn’t seem to notice. His features were as focused as she’d ever seen them, and his fingers pressing tightly into her bare skin were a stark reminder that he was in control, not her. “I choose who, female, not you.”
Kavin swallowed hard as she looked up at the Ghul who would soon become her master. He was born of the aristocracy and could have chosen any female as his latest mistress, but he’d picked her. The fact her family had offered her up without protest still burned in the pit of her stomach. “I…I just think there must be one of better breeding. The Marid is an animal. He—”
Zayd stepped close, tightening his grip around her arm until pain shot up from the spot, cutting off her words mid-sentence. “Which is exactly why he must be the one. To appreciate all that I have to offer, you must first experience the dreck at the bottom of society.”
Horror washed through Kavin. He really was going to hand her over to that…that thing. “But he could kill me!”
Something dark sparked in Zayd’s eyes, as if he enjoyed the thought of that thing touching her. “He won’t. The Marid has a strong will to live. And he knows if he brings harm to you, he’ll be executed. This is the test of all jarriah, my dear. This is your test.”
Bile rose in Kavin’s throat. Jarriah was just another word for concubine. A female sex slave. One of many Zayd kept within his walls.
This is not my life.
The words revolved in her head as he pulled her down the dingy corridor. Her peach gown, the one she’d worn to the arena today in the hopes of pleasing him, was now dirty and wet all along the hem from the water that seeped through cracks in the stones. How had this happened? How had she come to be in this wretched place?
When her family had first released her to Zayd, part of her had been excited. It was customary for high-ranking males to pick and take the females they wanted. The fact he’d chosen her? A commoner? It was practically unheard of. She’d been blinded by his status and wealth and handsome good looks. Had dreamt of marriage, even knowing most Ghul males took multiple wives. But that had been okay with her, so long as her master was kind. And if one day he grew to love her…then nothing else would matter.
But there would be no love between them, she knew that now, even before he’d officially made her his. He looked upon her as nothing more than the slaves who battled to the death in the pit of the arena. As entertainment to meet his depraved needs. And he was now handing her over to the worst of those slaves as a test. To be broken in by a monster, so that when she went back to him, he would look like a shining knight.
He tugged her to a stop in front of a heavy steel door. Two guards stood outside, looked from him to Kavin and back again. The one on the right said, “He has not been prepared.”
“This will not take long,” Zayd answered. “My jarriah is not here for a sample, but to simply meet the mighty champion and congratulate him on his latest victory.” A wicked grin curled Zayd’s lips. “Sampling will come later.”
A sickening chuckle echoed from both guards, and Kavin’s skin crawled as they both leered her direction. She brushed her hair over her shoulder, tried not to let her fear show.
The guards stepped aside. The one on the left unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Scream if you need us.”
Scream?
Kavin’s pulse raced as Zayd pulled her into the cell behind him. She felt the guard’s licentious gazes follow as she stepped past them, but was more concerned with the monster that lurked in the dark to worry about them. Zayd’s footsteps echoed across the stone floor. A chill slid down her spine. As her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, she squinted, unable to see anything but Zayd. For the first time since the arena, he released his hold on her arm. The cell door clanged shut behind her, causing her to jump and take a step closer to him.
A scraping sound echoed at her back, ratcheting Kavin’s anxiety up even more, pushing her that much closer to a male she despised for bringing her here. Then a shaft of light speared into the room from a rectangular hole in the door the guards had obviously opened, illuminating the space enough so she could look around.
There were no windows. No pictures hanging on the walls. Nothing but a single, unmade bed that looked stained with blood and sweat, and a small, wooden table, holding an unlit, dripping candle.
It was a hole. That bile rose higher. Worse than that, it was a dungeon where hopes and dreams were ground into dust.
“Rise, Marid,” Zayd said into the silence.
Kavin’s heart pounded against her ribs. She stepped behind Zayd as she looked around wildly for the monster she sensed lurking in the shadows. Silence echoed through the darkness like a vast cavern of nothingness, and just when she was sure there was no one there, metal clanged, and a shuffling sounded in the shadows to her left.
Kavin whipped that way, her eyes wide, her muscles tight and ready to flee. She tried to move further behind Zayd but he blocked her, pushing her forward instead. She stumbled. Tried to grab Zayd at her back. But he moved out of her reach.
“Come into the light, Marid, so that my jarriah may get a good look at what waits for her.”
Kavin froze. She didn’t know where the monster was. How close. What he would do to her. She didn’t know anything except fear and bitter hatred for the male at her back.
The shuffling echoed again, followed by the clink of chains. And then his big body moved into the light directly in front of her.
Kavin sucked in a breath. Eased back a step until she hit Zayd. He grunted his disgust and moved away once more, making it more than clear she wasn’t finding any safety with him.
But Kavin didn’t try to move again. Terror kept her feet firmly locked in place. The Marid was bigger than he’d seemed in the arena. Still covered in grime, there was a scent about him—sweat, blood, death—one that rolled through her stomach until the desire to gag overwhelmed her.
She held it back, knowing doing so would only enrage him—and Zayd—and stared at the hulking beast mere feet away.
Chains were cuffed to his wrists. Chains Kavin hoped were locked tight to a wall or bar or something strong enough to restrain him. Dark, stringy hair hung down over his face, brushed his bare shoulders. His arms were massive, his naked chest and stomach so hard it looked as if he were carved from stone. His thighs like tree trunks. He wore nothing but a stained scrap of cloth across his hips and an opal. A fire opal, strung from a chain around his neck, the stone resting at the hollow of his throat.
It was the fire opal that drew her attention, reflecting an orange-red glow into the room, like flames from a fire. She’d seen it in the arena. It was all the talk amongst the females who followed the fights. Why did he wear it? Where had it come from? And why had his master not yet removed it?
Questions swirled in her mind as she looked from the opal to the wounds on his flesh, still oozing with blood, then finally, to his face.
A square jaw covered in dark stubble, lips set in a hard line, a nose slightly crooked as
if it had been broken more than once. With the jagged red scar across his right cheek, and the bruises marring his forehead, he was far from handsome. He looked hulking, feral, menacing. And his eyes…her gaze locked on his black as night eyes. His eyes were dead pools of obsidian staring straight at her.
She gasped, stumbled backward, hit Zayd’s chest. Instead of shoving her forward like he’d done before, both of his hands closed around her upper arms, steadying her against him.
“My jarriah does not like what she sees?” A smile wound through Zayd’s words. “That pleases me. Greatly.”
This is not my life. This is not my life! Tremors Kavin couldn’t stop raced down her spine.
Zayd gripped her arms, pushed her forward with him. Her feet scuffed along the floor, and her eyes grew even wider as he forced her toward the monster with the strength of his body tight against her back. “Take a good, long look, jarriah. See and smell what will soon be using you.”
Tears burned Kavin’s eyes. A sob caught in her throat. Though she leaned hard against Zayd, she knew not to fight him or turn her head away. Knew if she did, he’d only lengthen the time she’d be sent to this hell with the monster.
The scent of death wafted in the air around her. That and the bitter bite of blood and sweat. She kept her focus on the opal, tried to breathe through her mouth and not her nose so she wouldn’t get sick, but she knew Zayd was waiting. He wanted to feel her fear. Wanted to make her writhe because he was a sick son of a bitch who got off on that kind of thing. Her skin grew tighter, her legs weaker as she fought from giving him what he wanted. But he wasn’t letting go. And knowing it was the only way he’d release her, she finally chanced a look up.
The monster’s gaze was fixed on the wall over her shoulder, not on her. But this close she could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, see the muscles flex beneath his skin with coiled restraint. He wanted to hurt her. She saw it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He hated her simply because she was Ghul and he was Marid. Because her race had enslaved him here in these pits. Before she could stop it, a memory flashed in her mind. The way he’d beheaded the Shaitan in the arena. How he’d so easily decapitated the djinn without a thought.