djinn wars 03 - fallen (17 page)

Jace picked up his glass of wine and drank before replying, “I don’t have the strength to be anything but calm. Fretting burns up too much energy.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Eyes still fixed on mine, he went on, “Beloved, I could be pacing the room, crying out against my fate, but what good would that do, except to use up strength I would rather save for you?”

He had a point. We were together, but we hadn’t been
together
since the rogue djinn had attempted to attack the colony. As I sat there and gazed at his face, I realized how much I needed him, needed to be with him, if only to prove that we wouldn’t allow those other djinn — or the measures we’d taken to protect ourselves — to keep us from one another.

“It wouldn’t do any good at all,” I said, taking the napkin from my lap and setting it down on the table. I rose from my chair and extended a hand to him. “So please, Jace — lend some of that strength to me now.”

He understood, as I’d known he would. After pushing back his own chair and standing up, he took my hand and led me over to the bed. Then, very carefully, he unbuttoned the flannel shirt I wore, each movement of his fingers deliberate, slow. In the past, we’d generally torn each other’s clothes off as quickly as we could, and so there was something strange and new and yet oddly erotic about that gradual undoing of my shirt.

His fingers were cool as they slipped the garment off my shoulders, then moved down to the front clasp of my bra. I hardly dared to breathe as he undid it, and then slid it down my arms as well. Trailing in a touch so light I almost could have imagined it, his hands closed over my naked breasts, caressing them. I didn’t even care that his skin was cool enough that the sensitive flesh immediately pebbled at his touch. All I wanted was Jace, like this, skin against skin.

When he bent to pull a nipple into his mouth, I cried out, my fingers digging into his hair, which fell like silk over my hands.

“Yes, Jace,” I whispered. “Yes.”

This was what I wanted — this, but so much more. I pulled away from him slightly, even though it was agony to lose the sensation of his lips on my breast. But I didn’t want to tire him out by standing up. We could do so much more with him lying down.

I pushed him against the bed, and he sank down on it, then moved himself into a more comfortable position at its center, a couple of the pillows supporting his head. Good…he knew what I intended to do next.

Off came his pullover and the T-shirt underneath, and then I tugged down his jeans and the briefs he wore under them. In a corner of my mind that I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, I’d secretly worried that he wouldn’t have the strength for this, no matter what he might say to the contrary. But as he sprang free of his clothing, obviously hard and ready for me, I allowed myself a little sigh of relief. The device might be weighing on him, sapping his energy, but it hadn’t taken enough that he couldn’t do this.

I pulled off my own jeans and shoes and socks, then slid in next to him, pressing the length of my body against his, trying to lend him some of my own heat. At the same time, I let my hand slip down to caress him, to begin moving slowly up and down his length.

He moaned, and I increased my speed slightly. Not enough to bring him to climax — I had better plans for that — but it still felt good to hear him respond, to know that he had the energy for this. A few moments later, I shifted so I could take him into my mouth, my tongue moving slowly over his silky skin.

“Jessica….”

My name was more a groan than anything else. Smiling a little, I slowed down even further, moving in languorous sweeps over his flesh.

Another moan, and then he whispered, “Want to taste you….”

“I think I can manage that,” I replied, then shifted so I could go to him, let him grasp me by the waist and settle my body right there, his tongue also moving slowly, teasing, as if in payback for the way I’d just tortured him.

Not that I minded. By then, he knew exactly how to pleasure me, how to pull me gently into his mouth so I had to prevent myself from screaming out loud. I grasped the headboard and closed my eyes, letting those shuddering, ecstatic waves move through me, softly at first, and then with such intensity that I did let out a single shocked cry at the end, unable to keep silent any longer.

And then — then I shifted once again, felt his hardness pressing against me, into me, and we were rocking together, his hands reaching up to caress my breasts, the two of us moving in a harmony I’d never experienced with anyone else, each knowing the exact time to push or pull, breaths synchronizing, until at last he thrust into me a final time and I could feel the heat of him within me, filling me.

I didn’t move right away. I wanted to stay there, still feeling him inside me, staring down at the perfect sculpted muscles of his body, the way his jet-black hair fanned out over the pillows. His eyes were shut, dark lashes thick and sooty against his high cheekbones.

He was perfection, and even now, I still couldn’t quite understand why he wanted me so badly. Maybe the why didn’t matter. The important thing was that he did.

At last I climbed off him, then snuggled up against his side, planting a kiss on his neck. He rolled toward me and pulled me close. I’d worried that I might have worn him out, but his heart beat seemed steady enough, slow and strong. By that point I was more or less used to the unnatural coolness of his skin, so I tried my best to ignore it.

“I love you,” I whispered, and his arms tightened around me.

“And I love you,” he replied. In the candlelight, his dark eyes glinted. “Perhaps now you will believe me when I tell you that I am not so very tired.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely hold you to that.” I took his hand and placed it on my breast. “And this.”

A chuckle, and then he was kissing me, his other hand wandering lower, and I thought maybe, just maybe, he and I would get through this all right.

Unfortunately, as the days slipped by, I didn’t think I could say the same for our little community in Taos. No one fared as well as Jace, although a few others, like Dani and Lilias, seemed to be managing all right. In Lilias’ case, however, it seemed more as if she was driving herself so Aidan wouldn’t distract himself from his recovery merely to fret over her. And he was recovering, although at a normal human pace. His face would be forever marred by the scars Khalim’s attack had left behind, angry red gashes standing out against his smooth, sun-browned skin. He acted as if it wasn’t a big deal, but I wondered how much of that was false cheer for Lilias’ sake.

Some of the other djinn, however, were suffering so much under the effects of prolonged exposure to Miles Odekirk’s device that they’d taken to their beds, complaining that they simply didn’t have the energy to get up. That made life harder for us Chosen, as we had to bring them their meals and any other supplies they might need. But I was glad to see that everyone took on their extra duties without complaint — well, at least without any complaints loud enough for me to hear — and generally did what they could to make a bad situation at least somewhat bearable.

The one person we all wanted to hear from, Miles Odekirk, was conspicuously absent. I suppose it was foolish of us to think that he could make lightning strike on demand, but we were all hoping for a miracle. Lindsay reported that he was working day and night, sometimes only sleeping an hour or two, if that, but as February began to bleed into March, I started to wonder if he would ever find a solution, or whether our djinn would be condemned to this half-life forever.

And from time to time I would go to the outer limit of the shield protecting our little town, and gaze toward the south and west, in the direction of Los Alamos. I couldn’t help worrying about Julia and Dan. Yes, we’d done what we could to make it look as if they’d been overpowered during our escape attempt, but what if Margolis had seen right through our admittedly thin deception? If anything had happened to either of them, I knew I’d never forgive myself — even though they had offered their help without being asked.

Then there were the kids. Lord knows what lies they’d been fed about my sudden disappearance. Although I’d been unwillingly drafted as their teacher, that didn’t mean I didn’t care what happened to them. I tried to reassure myself that Nora Almeida would have simply gone back to tutoring the little group, but I was only partly successful. True, my entire reason for being in Los Alamos had been to rescue Jace. Even so, I hated to think about the damage my precipitous departure might have caused.

I’d been sitting in the courtyard, brooding and ignoring the bright sunshine, the kiss of the fresh air against my skin. It wasn’t warm yet, not really, but temperatures had gone up enough that you could sit outside for a while without risking frostbite.

But then I heard voices, angry voices, and I stiffened, glad that I’d chosen a spot hidden behind several thick pine trees. No one would even notice that I was there unless they were specifically looking for me.

The voices belonged to Zahrias and several other djinn, two of whom I only knew by sight, as we hadn’t had much interaction. To my surprise, the third was Lindsay’s partner, Rafi.

“…has gone on long enough,” Rafi was saying. “Do you expect us to cower here forever until our powers fade completely?”

Although I couldn’t really see them, save as a blur of color through the branches of the trees, I got the impression that Zahrias stopped at that question. His voice came to me, weary, but still firm. “Your powers will return. They are merely being blocked.”

“Blocked, and drained,” one of the other djinn said. “Rafi is right. We cannot be expected to endure this any longer. You say that this mortal, this Miles Odekirk, is working on a solution. How do you know this for sure? After all, he is the one who created these devices in the first place. Perhaps he is only stalling because he knows how it makes us suffer.”

The djinn seemed to murmur in agreement, but Zahrias’ angry tones overrode them. “I know he is working on a solution because your Chosen, Rafi, is also working on it. Lindsay reports to me every day. If Miles truly was dissembling in any way, she would know it.”

Some grumbles resulted from that remark, and I wondered if Zahrias had managed to talk them down. After all, he was only telling them the truth. I knew Lindsay came to the djinn leader with regular progress reports because Jace had been there on more than one occasion when she showed up to deliver them.

But apparently that evidence wasn’t enough for them, because the djinn who had first spoken then said, “Perhaps that is the case. Perhaps he is doing his best. Obviously, his best is not good enough. And so we should look for other solutions.”

“Such as?” Zahrias inquired, tone dry.

A brief pause, and Rafi replied, “We have been discussing this, and we have agreed that the best solution is for several of us to leave — to go beyond the field generated by that hellish device so that our powers will return to us.”

Right then I really wished I could have seen Zahrias’ face. But of course I couldn’t — and I also knew that I needed to stay where I was, hidden, quiet. I didn’t want to know what their reaction would be if they caught me eavesdropping.

I heard a low chuckle, and Zahrias said, “And do what, precisely? Although your powers will return to you, that will take time. You would be completely unprotected, vulnerable.”

“Not necessarily,” Rafi argued. “True, we might be lacking some of our powers, but all we would need is to leave this place and go where we might seek help. Khalim has his followers, but they do not represent all of our kind. If we can enlist the aid of the others, those who would oppose what Khalim is doing if they but knew about it, then we could come back here with assistance. We would not have to live like this any longer.”

A silence fell. I hardly dared to breathe, fearing they might overhear even a sigh. That was probably silly, since it was a breezy day, and the wind was soughing through the pines.

At last Zahrias spoke again. “And have you discussed this with your Chosen? Do they agree that it is all very well for you to abandon them to pursue a quest with only a small chance of success?”

“You don’t know that for certain,” said one of the other djinn, someone who hadn’t spoken before this. “Why is it so unlikely that others of our kind would come to lend their assistance?”

“I cannot speak to that,” Zahrias replied. “All I am saying is that sending yourselves forth from this world takes more energy than you might think. And drawing on that energy after it has been depleted for weeks and weeks will be difficult at best.”

“Perhaps,” Rafi said. “Perhaps not. You only have Jasreel’s word to go on, and because he is not precisely one of us — ”

“We will not go down that road again,” Zahrias cut in. His voice was quiet, but I heard the steel in it, and the others must have, too, because after a brief pause, Rafi went on, sounding somewhat chastened,

“And as to our Chosen, we have spoken with them, and they understand the risks. They want us as we were, not as we are now — things with half-lives, hardly worth living. If they agree, who are you to tell us no?”