Slowly and reluctantly, Inayah uncovered her face. She blinked, closed her eyes, and blinked again. Streaks of shallow light penetrated the window and vaguely blinded her. She sat up, dragging her feet off the bed, and rubbed her knuckles onto her eyes.
She stretched her arms above her head and yawned then blinked again, simply watching her legs dangle above the dark brown polyester carpet.
A sharp knock on her door is what drew her attention away. For a moment, she thought she had slept in late but soft darkness outside says otherwise.
“Girl!” Mathilde hissed beyond the barrier.
Inayah scratched at her belly then scalp, quietly opening the door. Cold air instantly seizes her throat then nose.
Mathilde stands before her clearly impatient. “He waits for you.”
Inayah blinked, “Who?”
Something dark flashed across her face but disappeared just as fast, “Master, he said get ready to leave.” Another pause, this time her lips sank downwards in a sneer so deep it should not be humanly possible, “he said to wear the pants and training shirt.”
“Oh,” unconsciously, Inayah’s gaze flickered over her shoulder where the trunk lay at the foot of her bed, still shut. All her new clothes had arrived the day before but she could never really open it.
Mathilde hesitated even after speaking, lips parted as though to say something else, but she thought better and simply shook her head. “The clothes need laundering after.”
“Okay,” Inayah suppressed her own eye roll and shut the door. Walking over to the trunk, she unlatched it and took a step back, scouring the handful of clothes neatly folded and stacked accordingly.
There was no dress. Only skirts, blouses, long-sleeved, socks, undergarment much to her mortification, fitting pants and at the very bottom, a coat. It looked expensive, it felt just as much.
Realizing that she was wasting time, Inayah hurriedly stripped and plucked a random shirt then pants. It was cold outside, she hesitated and grabbed a sweater before tying her hair up and away from her face. Splashing water, Inayah brushed hastily then once done, made her way to the mansion.
Salem stood by the front door wearing nothing but a simple white shirt and pants. As she approached him, Inayah realized that the clothes had more of an athletic fit. His hair was tied up in a ponytail as well, head angled towards the window in silence watchfulness.
It had been three days Salemce they last spoke, Salemce her last confession. Salem had shut himself off, avoiding dinners and the hallways - avoiding her. Inayah wondered if he was simply livid by her honesty... or perhaps hurt? No, a small voice in her head chastised, he wouldn’t be.
Good enough, she supposed.
Just then he turned at the sound of her approaching footsteps, his gaze swept over swiftly then met her face. “Good morning, slave.”
Inayah nodded, “Master.”
He began to walk out, forcing her to jog to catch up with his long strides, “Where are we heading?”
“For a run.”
Inayah almost stumbled over her own feet, “A run?”
Salem nodded, his ponytail swaying in the cool breeze. He began to stretch over the head, cracking his neck sharply - the sound making her wince. “I will expect you to keep my pace,” suddenly he peered at her from over his shoulder, the condescending arc of an eyebrow, “can you?”
Perhaps it was the way he regarded her, or maybe it was the urge to save her pride. Inayah found herself nodding confidently. “I can.”
He was off.
The first few minutes were fine for the most part, his pace somewhat doable and Inayah mentally patted herself for not wheezing as they picked a random path through the forest. Her gaze fixated on the broad of his shoulders then ankles and finally, unconsciously, his ass before jerking back up sharply, heat spreading along her cheeks.
His pace began to pick up to almost gruelling, she followed without complaint. The warm dawn humidity of the jungle made her feel stick and suffocated. Her clothes and hair, slick with perspiration, clung to her skin. She swatted another pesky insect. Sweat rolled down her skin in thick, salty beads. She could feel her heart throbbing inside her chest. Her skin felt like it was roasting. She could feel her heart throbbing inside her chest. Her skin felt like it was roasting. She began bouncing slightly as she jogged, which wore her out quickly.
She settled to stumbling along behind him as fast as she could. Inayah was vaguely aware of a stinging in her leg. She had not realized that Salem had slowed to simply keep by her side, occasionally casting her sidelong glances.
She heard his soft chuckle.
“Tired?” He inquired conversationally, sounding hardly out of breath.
Inayah wheezed then cleared her throat, “Hardly.”
“Are you sure?”
She was silent, struggling to have her brain cooperate and form a sound sentence. “One hundred.”
“Good,” he hummed, picking up pace again, “we have another two hours.”
She was exhausted by the time the familiar mansion came to view. Inayah would have dropped to her knees and wept in utmost relief had it not been for Salem’s grip on her wrist, pulling her along.
“Salem-” Inayah cried, trying to claw at the hand. He was unrelenting, her legs were on fire and she lost all feeling in her lungs which threatened to burst. And her throat-- Inayah was sure she dropped it somewhere in the first hour.
“Almost home,” he simply stated as they closed the distance until, finally, he released his grip. Inayah stumbled and with reckless abandonment, threw herself on the dirt earth face first. The pain was jarring but she couldn’t care less.
From somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Salem’s clear chuckle as he began to circle her like a predator. Her eyes remained shut, unwilling to face the triumph reflected in his own. She had never heard his laughter, the sound so foreign and new, yet Inayah could hardly put focus to it when her own body was struggling not to shut down.
“Slave-”
“No,” she huffed dramatically, “leave me be. Let me die here.”
Silence followed.
“So be it.” And he was gone.
Inayah did not realize just how long she had lain there, on the grass, when something sharp kicked her ankle. She jerked her head up, peering at Mathilde. “Get up, there’s chores to do!”
Inayah bit her inner cheeks and with extraordinary effort, began to rise. Her whole body trembled weakly as she walked unsteadily into the mansion, then towards the kitchen when something stopped her.
Salem stood at the top of the steps, simply watching her.
With a soft jerk of the head, he gestured for her to follow him.