Alaskan Fury (24 page)

After a few moments, the wretch
of a djinni said in an amused voice, “I’m still waiting, mon Dhi’b.”

Steak.  Lots of thick, juicy,
fat-dripping steak.
  Very reluctantly, a centimeter at a time, she lifted
the hem of her sweater.

“You still haven’t lifted it
beyond the waist of your pants,” the infuriating creature noted.

“A pox on your eyes!” she cried. 
But she lifted the sweater.

A moment later, she felt the
djinni move closer—move
over
her—and she gasped, twisting in panic to
look up at him.

“Calm, mon Dhi’b,” he said
softly.  He was crawling over her legs, lowering himself until he was
lying
on her…

“That was not part of the
bargain,” she cried, beginning to sit up.

The djinni’s upper torso held her
legs in place, and his elbow came up to prop up his head in a palm as he stared
at her stomach, now only inches from his face.  “You have a tattoo,” he said,
sounding surprised.  “It’s very light…  It must be old?”

This close, Kaashifah actually
lowered herself back to the stone to put distance between his face and the
sensitive flesh of her belly.  “
Lying
on me wasn’t part of the bargain,
‘Aqrab,” she grated at the ceiling, trying not to feel the way her legs were
heating from contact with his naked flesh.

“True, but it
is
more
satisfying.”  He reached out and touched the pale discoloration of flesh above
her belly-button, making her flinch.  “What is that?  It’s barely visible.”

Talons of horror re-opened jagged
wounds within her soul, and suddenly it was all Kaashifah could do not to throw
him off of her and run.  She pressed her lips together and looked away,
carefully examining the white crystalline quartz of the floor of the cave.  Of course
that would be the first thing he noticed.  She hadn’t even let her
sisters
get that close, and for good reason.  If any of her Lord’s faithful had ever
realized she carried the mark of a kin-killer upon her, she would have been
thrown from the temples.

But the djinni was not
satisfied.  He tapped it.  “What is it?  You went to some parlor while I was
sleeping, little wolf?”

“It’s a birthmark,” she whispered,
feeling sick.

The djinni scoffed in disbelief,
his big chest flexing hard against her legs.  “I see
words
, mon Dhi’b. 
What is it?  Sumerian? 
Atlantean
?”  He cocked his head and began
sounding it out.

Kaashifah slapped a palm over the
mark.  “It is none of your
business
, ‘Aqrab,” she growled, scowling at
him.  “Just hurry up and find your satisfaction so we can be done with this.”

Still stretched out upon her
legs, the djinni’s eyes were fixed on the bit of flesh covered by her palm. 
“Your hand is covering the most interesting part of your stomach, mon Dhi’b.”  He
sounded…troubled.  When Kaashifah continued to glare at him, very gently, ‘Aqrab
dug his big fingers under her own and she reluctantly allowed him to lift her
hand free.  Then, as she watched, the weaver of words cocked his head and
started sounding out the cursed mark of her birth.

“It means ‘killer of blood,’
okay?” she cried, slapping her hand back over it once he figured out ‘blood’
and ‘death.’

‘Aqrab looked up from her hand to
her face, giving her a startled look.  “Kin-killer?”

“Satisfy yourself,” she snarled. 
“My patience is wearing thin.”

“Let me see it again,” he said
softly.  His hot hand touched hers, and once more tenderly lifted her fingers
from where they hid her mark.  His eyes were filled with gentleness before they
dropped back to the discoloration.  “How did you get it?”

“I
didn’t
,” she snapped. 
“I was
born
with it.  The priestess that raised me kept me segregated
from the rest until I was old enough to keep it a secret.”

‘Aqrab’s violet eyes were bright
with understanding as they flickered up to meet hers.  “Then it was a warning,
not a curse.”

Damn
the intelligent
wretch.  “Take it as you will,” she growled, looking away.

For a long moment, ‘Aqrab said
nothing, just stared at her stomach.  Then she felt him shift, felt him put
both hands on her belly…

…and suddenly he was
tickling
her, his big fingers working across the skin of her stomach, light as
feathers.  Kaashifah screamed and flailed and summoned the wolf to take off his
head—

—just as the djinni twisted to
the half-realm, laughing.  From the heat-shimmery air above her head, he
boomed, “I have explored your stomach to my satisfaction, fulfilling your side
of the bargain.”  And then he twisted back and dropped a heavy sack of
freshly-cooked steaks into her lap.

“I figured I’d save you the time
of roasting them yourself,” the djinni said.  “After all, you’ve had a long
day.  Oh, and…”  He set a large bowl of thick, brown, mushroom-filled gravy
beside her, along with a platter of seasoned rice and a massive batch of
curry.  Beside that, he set a bottle of date wine and a basket of fruit. 
Succulent strips of roast chevon followed, steeped in a spicy masala.  And
still
the djinni kept them coming, lowering plates and platters of food, beverages,
and desserts all around her.

As Kaashifah sat there, staring
down at her meal fit for a king, she felt tears coming to her eyes.  By the
time the djinni finished and squatted beside her, the floor of the cave was all
but filled.  “Will that satisfy you, mon Dhi’b?” he asked softly.

Biting her lip, Kaashifah blinked
away tears.  Wiping her arm across her eyes, she nodded, unable to speak.  When
she dared look at the djinni, he was smiling.

“It was a good bargain,” ‘Aqrab
said, wiping a tear from her cheek.  “Now eat.  It’ll get cold.”

Still stunned she wasn’t staring
into a bag of flies, Kaashifah tentatively did.  When she finally set down her
last plate, she was more satisfied than she had been in centuries.  Giving the
djinni a hesitant look, she whispered, “I haven’t eaten that well since I was
bitten by the wolf.”

The djinni grinned at her with
open happiness.  “Then you are satisfied?”

“More than,” she managed.  “Thank
you.”

His grin widened to devilish
proportions and he started tracing a big finger across the glittering white
stone floor.  “Then perhaps you’d allow me a bit more time with your stomach? 
I don’t think I got a good enough look.”  He looked up at her, mischief in his
eyes.  “
Are
you ticklish, mon Dhi’b?”

Kaashifah stiffened in absolute
horror.  “Kes okhtik bi ayre, gewad,” she blurted, her hands curling into fists
as she looked away.

Beside her, she felt the djinni’s
big body tighten, then the stone beneath her shuddered with the power of the
Fourth Realm as the djinni boomed, “You have reset your seven days.”  She could
feel
the djinni’s amusement when, in his normal deep, melodic voice, he
said, “I don’t have a sister, little wolf.  And if I
were
to pimp her
out, I certainly wouldn’t sample my own wares.  Bad for business.”  She
heard
his smile grow as he added, “After all, the Scorpion clan is renowned for
its…beauty.  A mere waggle of my eyebrow and I have more playmates than I know
what to do with.”

Kaashifah felt her body tense
until she thought her bones would break.  “Neek Hallak, ‘Aqrab.  I’m sure you’d
enjoy it, you pervert.”

Again, the djinni stiffened above
her and boomed, “You have reset your seven days.”  Then, once he’d regained
control of himself, he laughed and said, “Perhaps tomorrow I will ask for your
feet.”

“Stop taunting me, wald il
dhuroot.”

The djinni grunted and stiffened
again as Law snagged him and thundered out, “You have reset your seven days.” 
Once he regained himself, he chuckled at her.  “Or your ribs.”

Kaashifah turned to glare up at
him.  “Zib.”

His brow furrowed for just a
moment before he grunted again and bellowed in the triple-tone power of the
Fourth Lands, “You have reset your seven days.”  Slumping forward once the Law
released him, he panted, “Now you’re just being petty.” 

Her lips stretching into a smile,
now, she said, “Beast.”

The djinni grunted again and his
body constricted with another wave of Fourth Lander magic as he boomed, “You
have reset your seven days.”

“Bastard,” she said.

The djinni groaned and his body
went taut with the crushing wave of Fourthlander Law, booming, “You have reset
your seven days.”

“Pig,” she said, before he’d had
a chance to catch his breath.

“You have reset your seven days—
stop
doing that!
” he cried, gasping, his hands splaying out on the floor in
front of him to maintain his balance.

Kaashifah sniffed.  “Stop
taunting me.”  Then, raising a brow at him, she said, “Or do you need me to
spend the night singing to the world of your faults?”

“That was
quite
enough,”
the djinni growled.

She peered at him and cocked her
head.  “On second thought, I don’t think it was, wald il qaraqir.”

“You have reset your seven days—
mercy!
”
he cried, panting, head hanging.  “Goddess, I can only take so much of that.”

“Better than sex, you say,
letch?” she asked, grinning.

“You have reset your seven days—
please
,
Kaashifah, please.  No more,” ‘Aqrab babbled to the stone floor.  His shoulders
had slumped against the arms that held him and his forehead all but dangled
against the rock beneath him.

Kaashifah opened her mouth to
call him a dozen other names, but the djinni lunged forward and slipped a hot
hand around her mouth.  “Please,” ‘Aqrab begged down at her, his violet eyes
pleading with her.  “Mercy.”

Kaashifah easily could have
ripped his arm off for the gesture, but she found herself grinning.  “Shakl il
nahaan,” she said around his big fingers.

The djinni’s eyes widened and his
body went stiff around her and boomed out the resetting of Fourthlander Law. 
This time, however, she
felt
the magic course through her, wrenching her
orientation away from her, leaving her floating in a void of the Cosmos,
utterly without bearings…yet with
every
possibility.  It was
exhilarating…and yet utterly terrifying.  She felt like she was spinning, the
world rushing around her as the magic drained back away, leaving her with a
queasiness of stomach and weakness of limb that rivaled a walk through the
Void.

Then the djinni slumped over her,
his big body almost completely covering hers as it went limp.

Grimacing, Kaashifah pushed at
his chest.  “Get off of me.”

His cheek pressed to her
shoulder, he said, “Nnnggaaa.”

She flopped him off of her, onto
his back.  The djinni stared up at the ceiling, unblinking, and for a moment,
she thought she had killed him.  Then she saw his chest rise, slowly, once,
twice.  After minutes had passed and he continued to stare at the stone above
him in a daze, she hesitantly ventured, “You…feel that…
spinning
…every
time?”

Very slowly, the djinni’s face
lost its blankness and a sharp look came over his face.  He let his head droop
to the side, so that he was looking at her.  “You
felt
something?”

“It felt like the universe was
moving…and I was its center.”

For a long moment, the djinni
merely stared at her, his pretty violet eyes wrought with a frightening
intelligence.  Then he merely twisted back to stare at the stone ceiling and
closed his eyes.  A few minutes later, she heard the low rumbles of sleep.

Because it was the first time
she’d actually seen the djinni
sleep
, Kaashifah cocked her head at him,
waiting for the joke.  But, as the minutes passed, ‘Aqrab continued to snore,
and Kaashifah realized he was, quite thoroughly, unconscious. 

Now
that
was interesting. 
Very slowly, she crept forward, until she was sitting within arm’s-reach of the
Fourth-Lander.

“‘Aqrab,” she said.

The snores continued.

Cocking her head at him, her
heart beginning to pound in her throat, Kaashifah bit her lip and watched his
face.  Gingerly, she reached out and poked him in the arm.  “‘Aqrab,” she said,
louder.

The djinni slumbered on.

Kaashifah glanced over her
shoulder at the exit to the cave, absurdly feeling the need to check that there
was no one observing.  Then, licking her lips, Kaashifah leaned forward, until
she was hovering over the djinni’s rippling body, now slack with sleep. 
“Aqrab,” she said, into his face.  The djinni never twitched.  After a long
moment of debate, gingerly, she reached out and touched him. 

Though she’d had three thousand
years to become acquainted with the male form, she’d never been this close, and
she found certain things…fascinating.  His chest was different, the nipples
small and delicate, the flesh a glistening ebony.  Biting her lip, watching for
any reaction, she drew her finger across his breastbone and followed it down,
dragging it across the muscles woven in beautiful knots across his abdomen. 

Kaashifah had once aspired to be
an artist.  Long ago, in her rooms at every temple, she had once maintained an
easel, a slab of stone, and a bucket of clay, waiting upon whatever mood struck
her.  Now, for the first time in millennia, gazing down upon this beauty, his
body slack in sleep, she had the urge to paint.

She had painted the male form
once.  It had been a wretched thing, the arms too small, the chest too narrow,
the hands too dainty.  The mound of flesh at her subject’s groin had been just
that—a dark, mottled blur, her imagination unable to conjure up that which the
priestesses had forbidden her to gaze upon.  She had used her own flesh as a
reference, with added lumps.

The priestess that had found it
had given it to her Sister Prima, who had, while four other sisters had held
her arms and wings aside, brutally flogged her back with a radiant cat o’nine
until Kaashifah was at the very verge of death, then threw the flog at her and
had left her there in the courtyard, struggling with death, unable to get up to
bind her wounds, as the human worshippers walked tentatively around her tattered
body.