Djinn Justice (The Collegium Book 2) (24 page)

Fay drove the all-terrain vehicle while Steve sat behind her. If she hadn’t temporarily burned out her magic, she’d have been able to smooth their ride. As it was, she was aware that this was torturing Steve. Radio contact had confirmed the marshals had secured the compound, so she drove straight to the portal and hopped off the vehicle, her own muscles hurting, to turn and help Steve.

He dismounted before she could.

The sight of Faroud by the portal was a huge relief. There’d be no delay.

There wasn’t. Faroud grasped their hands in silence and they stepped into the in-between and out into the fort’s underground chamber.

Fay stumbled backwards in shock and Steve reached around Faroud to steady her.

Uncle was waiting for them, and arrayed behind him were Steve’s family and other people, strangers kitted out to help the clean-up operation in the Mountains of the Moon. The marshals, led by Lilith, clasped hands, and Faroud transported the human chain back through the portal.

Steve’s family descended on him and Fay, hugging, touching and reassuring themselves that they were safe. Mrs. Jekyll even patted Fay’s shoulder.

Uncle caught Fay’s astonished gaze and winked. Then he clapped his hands. “Enough. You two, shower and clean up. We’ll meet you in the Court.”

Surprisingly, it was Liz who objected. “Steve needs medical treatment.”

Uncle smirked, which wasn’t an answer, but all she was going to get.

She stamped her foot. “I’ll bring the medical kit to the Court.”

“Thanks.” Steve headed for the stairs.

Fay caught his arm and pulled him towards the elevator. “Climbing stairs with broken ribs? Really?”

“See! I told you he needs treatment.”

The elevator doors closed on Liz and Uncle bickering.

To Fay, the impersonal room she and Steve had been given looked wonderful: clean, safe, and just theirs. She closed the door and crouched to unlace his boots.

“I can manage.”

“With pain and great difficulty.” But she let him kick the boots off himself. “You shower first.”

He grunted as he shrugged off his shirt. “If there was more room, we’d shower together. Come in with me.”

She nodded. Like him, they’d too nearly lost each other to willingly accept even the distance of different rooms. She adjusted the temperature of the water while he stripped off the rest of his clothes.

Bruises and gashes marked him. Internally…there could be more damage than broken ribs, although surely Uncle wouldn’t have teased Liz if Steve had life-threatening injuries?

Frustration simmered in Fay. If she had her magic…but it wasn’t there. It, too, was recovering.

Steve stepped into the water.

She watched him. She loved the lean strength of his body, but there was nothing erotic in her response to him, now. Tears started. She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, but the tears continued leaking. Her breath hitched, hiccupped. A sob escaped.

Steve reached for her. “We survived.”

She stood with him, half in the shower, half out; ignoring the stream of water.

“We’re okay, Fay. We’re safe. We’re together.”

Magic whispered into her to steal gently along their mate-bond and heal Steve. It returned to her, healing her physical hurts. It grew and grew, till her magical reserves were replenished.

Steve felt it, too. “If you made the shower larger, we could shower together.”

It happened almost as he finished speaking. They stood in a replica of his bathroom at the villa in Cyprus. Her magic had even remembered to include her preferred shampoo.

Steve unbraided her hair and lathered it, massaging her scalp. She soaped his chest, caressing where his ribs had broken and where he’d healed. Touching one another, caring for one another, healed their souls. Steve kissed her gently. “We have to go to the Court.”

Everyone was waiting for them.

She slid her hand down his side, over old scars. They had to finish the mission. A final report and—“Will Uncle formally make you Suzerain, today?”

“He has. I can feel the power in me to severe a person’s animal self. It is like a titanium coating over my bones.”

“It has weight or it makes you invincible?”

“It’s heavy.”

She hugged him, her face against his throat.

He gathered her wet hair, sweeping it to one side so that he could run his hand down her spine. “Let’s finish this.”

The Court had changed when Fay and Steve entered. The boardroom table was gone. In fact, there were no seats. People stood, waiting. Some wore dirty, torn clothes. Those were the formally enslaved. Others were marshals. Fay recognized a few. And others were unknown to her.

Steve’s family stood together at the front of the room. Liz saw Fay and Steve first. Her eyes narrowed as she registered their healing. She shot a suspicious glance at Uncle, standing near her, beside Mr. Jekyll.

Uncle smiled blandly at Liz and stepped forward. He remained in his Frenchman persona, but the blood-stained suit had gone. He was devastatingly handsome in a casual white shirt and chinos.

Steve walked to meet him.

Fay stopped beside Michelle and David, and the rest of Steve’s family.

“You know who I am,” Uncle addressed the crowd. “I am the djinn who watched over your ancestors. For decades, you might not see me, but my Suzerains do. From me they receive the power to deliver justice for the worst crimes.

“Two centuries ago, the Joshis were stripped of the Suzerainty because they were too weak to do nothing. The responsibility of were justice burdened them. They thought they had always to act. They lacked the strength of character to stand back and wait for things to play out. Life often delivers its own justice.”

Fay stared at the djinn, shocked as she realized how deeply and truly Uncle knew Steve. Steve would be a good Suzerain because he could endure the weight of the relationships that centred on the institution. He could walk among the tangle of the weres’ expectations, grumbles and loyalty, and not carry them as a burden. He had the strength to allow others to be flawed without stepping in and trying to fix them. He felt the weight of the power Uncle had given him, but he would not try to evade it.

Uncle’s ancient gaze met hers; an acknowledgement of her unspoken insight. Wisdom shimmered in his eyes, unhidden, for once, by his mischief. He spread his hands, turning back to his audience. “Tarik resented what he saw as his family’s loss of status. He did evil and he is gone. Those who followed him willingly have forfeited their were-natures.” A murmur of surprise from the gathering. “The rogue mage who assisted Tarik has lost her magic and her memory of the spell she used. Those who saw the state she was in can tell the others.”

“She’ll not be punished further,” Steve said. He scowled as people’s gazes flicked to Fay and away. “I don’t protect the woman because Fay is a mage. Fay is strong and good, and I am proud of her. I love her. The woman whom Tarik used is a victim. She hurt others, but justice is not obtained by cruelty. This ends, here.”

Uncle nodded. “Steve is now Suzerain. We could have done the transfer with pomp and ceremony. Instead, he earned it with pain and blood, and the love and anguish of his warrior-princess.” The djinn bowed to Fay. When he straightened, he held out his hand to Mr. Jekyll. “Tomy, you have served justice with honor and mercy. Rest, my friend, and savor the joys of life.”

A sparkling, swirling wind, such as Uncle had used to announce his presence in the villa’s bedroom started in the far corners of the Court. “Life is for living!”

Fay clutched at Steve to regain her balance as Uncle’s sparkly whirlwind translocated them from the fort to the balcony of the villa in Cyprus. The Mediterranean Sea reflected the blue of the cloudless sky. Birds soared on the air currents. The late afternoon sun was warm on their faces.

“That tricky djinn.” Steve swore, but his tone was admiring.

“Back where we were so dramatically interrupted.” Fay wrapped her arms around his neck. So much had changed in three days, but her love for Steve had only deepened. It had been tested, she had learned much about him, and she loved him even more. She knew herself more truly, too. “Kiss me.”

He bent to do so, the look in his eyes telling her that as he’d promised their first morning together at the villa, he’d love her till she screamed.

“Oho, there you are! When did you get back?”

Steve jerked straight. “Patrick? No.” It was a groan. “You’re not alone, are you?”

The newcomer, a short fit guy in his early twenties, grinned. “Listen.”

From inside the villa came the dull roar of many voices. “Pat? Who’s there?” someone shouted.

“Steve,” Patrick yelled back. “And a gorgeous girl who I’m guessing is Fay.”

“Friends, cousins, afflictions,” Steve said to Fay. “Uncle must have thought it hilarious, returning us to the villa, but knowing it was filled with an insatiably curious horde.”

“You wound us.” Patrick staggered, one hand over his heart, his eyes twinkling.

“I wish I could,” Steve responded.

Fay laughed. “On the other hand, I expect they brought food, and I’m starving.”

“Of course we brought food.” Patrick grabbed her hand. “I’ll ply you with a feast while you tell us everything that happened. Everything,” he emphasized with a mock-frown at Steve.

Steve freed Fay from Patrick, and slung his arm around her shoulders. “Food does sound good.”

The food and their welcome were excellent. It wasn’t a horde, but a group of a dozen in Steve’s large kitchen; people who explained that they’d congregated at the villa in case Steve needed them. Beneath all the teasing, the love was real.

Fay watched their faces as Steve briefly summarized their adventures.

“Man, that was some test.” Patrick’s humorous face was solemn for once. “Glad you made it, cuz.”

Afternoon faded into evening. Someone switched on soft lighting. They’d moved from the kitchen to the living room overlooking the sea. In the distance, lights bobbed gently on boats, glimmering like fireflies.

“We’re done.” Steve stood and pulled Fay up from the sofa they’d been sharing. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

A chorus of goodnights followed them, and someone turned on some music.

Together, Fay and Steve climbed the private stairs to his room. The bed was made up, the room tidy, with fresh roses in a vase beneath the mirror gifting a faint perfume to the air. Steve closed the door.

They looked at each other for a long moment, then he backed her against the door. Finally, they were alone. His mouth was hot on hers, but there too briefly. He nipped his way down her throat, ripping at her shirt and parting it so that he could push his hands inside the cups of her bra and knead her breasts.

The bite of her bra straps pinched. She vanished the bra and all her clothes, and arched into him. “That feels good.” His shirt and trousers were rough-smooth against her skin. “I want your hands and mouth everywhere.”

“You’ll get them.”

His clothes vanished at her first orgasm, her magic whipping out, nearly out of her control as her need for him spiraled. They were naked: her against the door, him before her. The bed was too far away. He took her against the door, the unforgiving hardness of the wood behind her increasing her excitement. She panted, words gone, thought gone, wanting, knowing only him. She screamed as his final thrust took her somewhere else, the pulse of him inside her a rhythm that pulled her deeper.

“You screamed,” he said later as they lay on the bed. His voice was lazy and satisfied. He’d carried her to the bed and arranged them both.

“You promised I would.” She smiled at him, feeling completely relaxed even as his feather-light flick of her nipple detonated tiny charges.

“I did, didn’t I?” A smile lurked in his eyes.

It puzzled her. It was as if he was waiting.

“Oh no!” She sat upright. “Your family heard me!”

He lay back against the pillows, laughing. “Yes.” He pulled her down on top of him. “But you’ve met the crew here. None of them will care, except to be envious.”

She shuddered. “Your grandmother has only just accepted me. If she’d heard…”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen.” He caressed the fullness of her mouth with one finger.

She relaxed and nipped the finger. He slid it into her mouth. Her eyelids drooped as she sucked on it. A lick of her tongue and she released him. Mischief bubbled up in her. “How embarrassing would it be if
you
screamed?”

He stretched beneath her, all masculine challenge. All hers. “Do your worst.”