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Arif seemed to understand though, his eyes glinting with sick delight as he said slyly, “Ah, but there are many ways to kill a person. If you cooperate I can end it fast. If you don’t, your pain will be agonizing, intolerable. Now…I’d much prefer to see you suffer, but the level of suffering is all up to you.”
She knew deep down he’d make her suffer no matter what she did or said. Saving her bone-dry throat the bother of an answer, she instead slumped in her saddle and ignored him, while trying not to imagine the worst.
But what if Jamal really did find her? He might hate her right now but he was nothing if not honorable. He wouldn’t want her death on his conscience. She was his wife and therefore his responsibility.
She licked her chafed lips. If he did find her in time there was a chance he might even forgive her and want their marriage to work. He’d probably agree Karma had punished her enough.
Her camel grunted as it sank to its front and back knees, Yasmine’s head snapping at the motion so that she almost lost her seat. Her heart beat erratically, but she was too weak and dehydrated to fight. Instead she allowed one of Arif’s men to drag her roughly off the saddle and inside the nearest tent.
His grasp was agonizing on her sunburned skin, but it didn’t seem to matter to him. She wasn’t just Arif’s prisoner, she was white trash, garbage.
She was little more than a disposable commodity whose fragility was laughable at best. And her torture would no doubt begin sooner rather than later. The only small mercy was the relatively cool confines of the tent. They needn’t torture her anymore in that regard; the sun had already done its damage.
The man shoved her so that she fell hard to the sandy floor. That he didn’t even bother to truss her legs and arms together was a no-brainer. She had nowhere to go now except for the endless desert. “Water?” she asked weakly.
He laughed at her request and walked out.
Asshole.
She couldn’t just sit and passively wait to die. She couldn’t expect her husband, her proverbial knight in shining armor, to save her yet again.
No. You saved your own ass the first time thanks to your ingenuity. You’ll find a way to save yourself this time, too.
First off, she needed water.
Then a weapon.
She staggered to her feet and looked around inside the tent. Going by the sacks of feed, possibly for the camels, and the dozen wooden crates that were pushed against the far wall, this tent was clearly used for storage.
Her pulse jerked. Was it possible water was stored in one of the crates?
A fire crackled to life outside, followed soon after by the tantalizing waft of cooked meat. She breathed deep, her belly rumbling and clenching. But though hunger pulled at her insides, she needed hydration first and foremost.
One of the men outside laughed, and a few others joined in. They sounded rowdy and jovial, and were likely drinking.
Shit.
She didn’t want to think what those same men might do to her with alcohol filling their bellies and burning through their veins. She only hoped Arif wanted to keep her torture for himself, not share her around first to his men.
Forcing her leg muscles to cooperate, she lurched over to the crates and pried the lid off the first one stacked on top of two others. One of her fingernails snapped down to her quick. She ignored the pain, even as another nail tore off into a ragged end and bled.
She finally got the lid off and peered inside. Blankets of different colors and patterns were folded inside. She gritted her teeth and resisted throwing the whole crate with the blankets inside onto the floor.
The next crate she finally managed to pry open revealed clay jugs stacked inside. Hope tore through her as she opened a couple of the jugs, only to find red wine and arrack inside them. Of course there was no water. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
That itwasliquid had to count as something? She was too thirsty to be fussy. She pulled the cork free from yet another jug and tipped it to her mouth, glugging down the red wine even as it spilled from the corners of her mouth and dripped down her chin.
She moaned. Never had red wine tasted so damn good! That it burned its way down her empty stomach and caused her to stumble forward before she retched violently was a secondary problem.
She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and giggled. Holy shit.She was already a little drunk. But of course she was. An empty stomach and severe dehydration meant she needed little of the stuff to feel its effects.
She backed away from the contents on the sandy floor. She needed to pace herself, go slower. She swigged one more mouthful. If she did happen to die today, at least she mightn’t feel as much pain.
Don’t think like that! You’re a fighter, not a quitter. You got away from Arif once, you can do it again!
Except the more she tried to think of a way out of the mess, the more she drank, and the rowdier the men became outside the tent.
The light was beginning to dwindle with a distinct chill settling in the air, relieving the heat of her sunburn ever so slightly. She grabbed a blanket from out of the crate anyway and wrapped it tightly around her before she sat in the far corner of the tent. It wouldn’t shield her body from Arif but it’d obstruct his touch for a minute or two, if that was what he had planned for her.
