A Genie's Love (The Djinn Series) (3 page)

Oh, why hadn’t it come to her sooner? Someone must have had his lamp. The dear thing had likely been under the servitude of some jackhole who’d drained him dry. The thought of it sent her blood boiling and she had to do an extra two laps around the block before continuing on. She very rarely got so angry that magic bubbled to the surface, but trees withered around her and bugs chattered in protest. Even worse, she didn’t have enough control over her power to shut ‘em up. The extra two laps became an extra five.

No, she wasn’t a decent witch. She knew no spells by heart and her pull on power was never as strong as her sister’s. But she had a feeling that if the person who hurt Faruq stood in front of her right now, she’d light ‘em up.

How had it even happened in the first place? Tig’s lamp stayed safe around Dinah’s neck or his own. Faruq must have slipped up and lost it somehow. She shuddered and did a sixth lap. Djinn couldn’t be made to hurt themselves, but their kind had a long history of being tools of murder and torture. That would mess anyone up in the head.

By the time she reached her house, she prayed for a rock to slither under. It was no wonder Faruq hadn’t wanted to touch her when they met. Instead of concern for his condition, she’d jumped from unnecessarily cruel to annoyingly flirtatious. Even worse, the beautiful man had taken her crazy in stride. If Faruq ever spoke to her again, she promised not to embarrass herself.

Drenched, she kicked off her shoes and slid across the floor on damp feet. Every few steps, a new lump of clothing dropped to the floorboards as she stripped out of her running gear. She’d overdone it. Her arches ached, her blowout was now a ‘fro out and she had to roll down her panties to get them off.

Upstairs, she hopped into the shower and rested her head against the fogging glass. Even here, that djinn invaded her thoughts.

His face.

His short cropped hair.

His lips weren’t bad either and the image had her hands moving.  She’d been too long without a man’s touch and with her schedule, there weren’t any prospects on the horizon. Memories of Faruq clouded her mind and as her fingers danced over her body, she imagined his hands leading the way. He’d be a patient lover, slow and considerate.

Then again, the quiet ones always surprised you. Thoughts of Faruq having her against the wall or balling her hair in his fist were enough to turn her shower into a far more pleasant enterprise than she’d anticipated. She was just rounding third base...and pondering if one could third base oneself...when her cell phone rang.

She ignored it for all of 0.2 seconds.

On the infinitesimal chance it could be him, she scrambled out of the shower, sliding wrist first across the tiles. One hand shaking, the other was forced to bear the burden in her Frankenstein crawl to the bedroom. “Hello?  Hellohellohello?”

“Cassia?”

“Yes, um, hi. Uh, Faruq?”

“If I’m bothering you—”

Be cool.
She let out the breath she’d been holding, ignored her now scraped wrist and pushed the throbbing pain away to feigned awesomeness. “I wasn’t sure I’d hear from you again.”

“I’m sorry for my behavior.”

“Strong ditto. Mine, I mean. We should start over, don’t you think?” She thought she heard a whoosh of air on the other line and a little something fluttered in her tummy.

“That’s why I’m calling. I hoped that you could show me around.”

“A run?”

“Not exactly. I had drinks in mind.”

Her fist pump to the air was immediately followed by a wince at her burning wrist. She used to know a spell to fix that sort of thing.

“Cassia?”

“Right. Yes, I’d like that. Soon?”

“Tonight. If you’re not busy. I know it’s short notice but—”

“Pick me up at eight.  Gotta go. Bye.”

She hadn’t meant to hang up on him.

Well...she had. Drawing that out would have left her open to more humiliation.  Nope, best to end strong...ish. She had business to handle and only nine and a half hours to find the perfect outfit, do her hair and erase the ridiculous grin crawling across her face.

She ran to her closet, fast on the hunt for something tight, sexy but not slutty.

Hair? Flat ironed.

Grin? Still plastered on. No help for that.

Game? Got it.

Magical wrist fix? She’d work on it.

F
aruq triple checked his tie in the rearview mirror of the borrowed Jag.  He wiped his damp hands against the side of the leather seat one last time and checked his teeth before getting out. It’d been eighty years since he’d last gone out on a date and he knew he was nowhere near as suave as he used to be.

Date
. The word was so impermanent. One day on a calendar. Back then, they’d called it courting and it meant forever.  On the other hand, perhaps the word did suit. He’d know soon enough and planned to touch Cassia the second she opened the door. He wouldn’t have it hanging over them throughout their night.

If she was
his
, he had a place to work from. If not, well, at least he’d have a pleasant evening with a beautiful woman on his arm.

...assuming he didn’t faint again.

Right. Battle stations.

She answered on the first knock and he was very lucky to be holding on to the door when she did. “Wow.”

“Too much?” Behind her, the lights of her house flickered, but that may well have been his imagination.

The sleeveless black dress looked to have been painted on her, accentuating every curve and muscle of her body. Where Dinah was small and delicate, her younger sister was a warrior princess in heels. Very, very high heels. Heels attached to legs and thighs that went straight on up forever. “No...perfection.” She turned away, but not before he caught her grinning. “May I escort you to the car?”

She took his offered hand and a glorious tenderness that stung in its intensity, burrowed through his heart. She’d done it again.

“Everything alright?”

“Not sure how much your sister told you.”

Her smile didn’t drop, even as she gave a very unladylike snort. “Dinah never tells me anything. I’m still the annoying little sister. It must be nice to be the older sibling. I’ve gotta admit, I’m looking forward to some juicy stories on Tig. Crap, I’m blabbering. I mean, shoot, did you want to come inside for a drink or—”

“No!”

“Right.”

Her smile dipped and he could punch himself in the face for causing it. “Not that I don’t want to come in, but I didn’t eat much today and I’m starving. Why don’t you tell me about this place we’re going on the way?”

It got her in the car and talking.

A lot.

Unlike her sister, apparently Cassia didn’t need to breathe. She pointed out every house, every corner and every pothole in the road. It ought to have put him to sleep, but her voice tingled on every word, like a bird in the distance. Perhaps she was a bard, one of those rare witches who could sing words into the magic.

Then she started humming along to an outdoor street band and he knew that
couldn’t
be the case.  The sound progressed into outright caterwauling, even after they left the intersection.

“Are you smiling at my singing?”

“No.  Well, the key isn’t exactly...that is...you’re kind of terrible.”

“So? Don’t you like music? I do,” she said, not giving him time to answer. “I shouldn’t sing, but I always sing.”

“You’re not the least bit embarrassed, are you?”

Cassia scrunched her nose and shook her head. “I wake up each day and do the exact same thing. That’s cool, though. I like order. But, music is my release. When I’m working out or relaxing, music unwinds me. You could use a little of that, Mister Man.”

“That’s why you’re here.”

“I see.” She clicked her tongue and leaned back against the headrest. It got real hard to choose between the two things his eyes should focus on, her or on the road. Cassia caught him smiling once or twice, but he could claim the same. For the first time in ages, he felt young again. Damn this amazing woman.

And her neckline too.  The space between her breasts cushioned a single teardrop sapphire. Lucky gem.

“Watch out!”

“
Oh, khara
!” An old-fashioned baby pram wobbled in the road, forcing him to swerve off the pavement. When they jumped out of the car to investigate, the baby carriage was gone. “Did I hit it?”

“No. I didn’t think so.”

“Then where is it and why is the street empty?”

“Good question. This place should be packed. It was five seconds ago.”

“Magic.” They said it at the same time and drew closer to one another near the trunk of the car. “Something feels off but I haven’t been here long enough to be a good judge of it. This is your town. Tell me, does anything seem strange to you?”

“It’s weird.  I mean, I get that we’re not in the heart of the city yet, no one else is on the highway. But I can’t think of anything else in particular. Unless...”

“What?”

She shifted her weight to the other foot and folded her arms. The muscles twitched as she spoke and she couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder. “See my wrist? I fell today. I’ve fallen a lot since meeting you. That’s not a come on, by the way. I just mean that all day, I’ve been tripping and sliding and...well...that’s stupid, right?”

“No. We should go,” he said, but he left it at that, feeling no pressing desire to remind her that he’d fainted. One event didn’t necessarily tie to the other.

She nibbled at her lip again. He couldn’t stand not to comfort her and brought her hand to his lips. “Nothing’s going to happen. So there’s magic around – who cares? Hmm? It’s Galveston. Chances are, there’s some new magic worker with a book from the internet trying something out. Besides, if there were ever two people who could take care of themselves, it’s us.  A djinn and a natural born? A post born witch doesn’t have a chance.”

“I feel like we’re about to have a moment and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“But?”

“Do that again.” She held her hand up to his mouth, not speaking until his lips danced across her knuckles. “Right, still feels good.  But actually look at it. That bruise and scab on my wrist...isn’t it a little crazy I still have it? I’m not even a good enough witch to fix it.”

“Perhaps a wish is in order. I’ve got some magic left in me yet.” He closed his eyes and waited, eager to please like a panting dog.

“I wish...”

The wish washed over him like warmed honey, heavier and sweeter than any wish he’d ever experienced. Wishes pulled, but this half-one, not yet fully born, wrapped around him like a lover’s arms. Cassia’s arms. Ah, crap, if he wound up cumming on the street because of a wish, he’d run neck first into a clothesline and hang his own damned self.

“I wish...”

“Yes? Your wrist.”

“I wish you would kiss me.”

The draw of the wish and the natural tug she had over him presented too big a force to ignore. Their lips crashed together, his over her soft ones. His mind screamed at him to stop.  His lips? Too rough. Too unsteady. Too unpracticed.

Shame warmed his face, ripping him out of the moment. Cassia wasn’t the type of woman to want for a lover. A girl like her had strings of men, all capable of a better job than this piss poor performance. Her tongue darted out, but he didn’t part his lips. Not fully. He should have spent the last hundred years preparing for this moment and instead he’d pissed it away. He tried to break apart, but she held firm, not stopping until the cacophony of car horns threatened to deafen their ears. The magic, literally, had come to an end.

“Good wish.”

“Happy to grant it.”

“Was I too much again?”

“Still perfection.”

Another series of honks and screaming drivers led to a jog and slammed car doors on either side.

Something about her smile dismissed a lot of important things, mainly the cause of their exiting the Jag in the first place. But she seemed to share the same sentiment he did – that the moment they’d just had was a good one. The kind you held onto. The kind you drew out as long as possible.

A teen witch must have caused a tiny tear in reality or something. So what? He’d just kissed a beautiful woman.

His woman.

Right?

Yes...probably.

The car ride was silent, but easy and punctuated with side eye glances and embarrassed chuckles. He’d grown used to women staring at him. Yet the vivaciousness of Cassia meant so much more. It enlivened and terrified him. Yet, he still couldn’t be sure that this was nothing more than some passing attraction.

Well, he could. Dating could turn into love and then what? Djinn had deeply loved women, only to find their true mates later on. Better to play it safe this time.

At least until he got things sorted.

*****

I
t took everything she had not to jump the man in the middle of the highway. Something about him made her want to do naughty, filthy, shock-your-momma-if-she-knew things to him. Instead he grinned, frowned and then morphed into that same blank face she’d seen when they first met.

What in the blazes had his previous
employer
done to him? Or caused Faruq to do to someone else? She much preferred the grinning, kissy face Faruq to this one. If only he’d tell her what happened. Not that she had a way to fix it.

Yet.

That was worth going back and studying magic for – to find the person responsible and turn him into a newt...or a steaming pile of manure. There had to be a spell for that somewhere. “And I’ll find it.”

“Huh?” Faruq’s eyes widened and he shifted his gaze from the road to her.

“Sorry, I mean to say that it’s weird how I’ll be older than my big sister in a few years. I totally fail at not being jealous about it. As soon as they have kids, she’s going to start making regular trips to Tig’s lamp. That’s not a request for a rejuvenating trip to your lamp, by the way. Although I’ve always wondered what those things look like inside. Dinah won’t tell me squat.”

Again, his face darkened and she felt about an inch high. Clearly, she’d just stepped into taboo djinn territory. While she waited for him to say something...anything...the car went through five more intersections and into a parking lot.  “Is this the place?”