by Raine Hughes
Noah was astonished by the cruelty of a man towards his daughter. Even if she wasn’t a perfect Djinni, her father had no right to say so in such demeaning terms! Her deteriorating grammar showed just how much her father’s words hurt.
“I do not mean that you should be dull and boring.” Jasmine obviously misinterpreted his horror as anger. “A mortal is supposed to come along and find my urn, open it and release me to serve him. But, I could not wait to see where I am landed. Well, I could wait, but I am impatient to learn where I am. Impatience is a serious shortcoming for a Djinni.”
She shrugged apologetically but otherwise met his gaze with a steady one of her own, her chin upraised in a show of dignity she probably wasn’t feeling. “I used a trick I learned with candles to release myself. I only want to take a little look, but…” Her shame was obvious as she lost the battle to maintain a confident gaze. She lowered her lashes but not soon enough to hide the tears that shimmered there.
Noah’s tension eased. She had been flung into a hostile environment as punishment for something she probably couldn’t control. Maybe she could prove herself and be back in Djinn favor. Then she wouldn’t have to serve some dull and boring mortal.
It flashed across his mind that of late he had become uninteresting and lifeless, living alone like a hermit. Carol had divorced him when he’d decided to rebuild the barn instead of the promised new house, disregarding the fact that the house was to be built once his tourist business proved a success. Of course he couldn’t build both and without a barn there would never be the tourist attraction he envisioned. That hadn’t swayed his wife one bit and that’s when she’d really let him know what she thought of his lifelong dream, his floating zoo, she’d called it with derision.
Like Jasmine, he knew what it was like to stand under a stinging barrage of degrading and fault-finding insults.
It was only when Jasmine began peeling out of her clothes that Noah’s thoughts came back to his houseguest.
“I cannot stand this any… longer,” Jasmine whimpered, frantic no doubt with itch as she struggled to remove the woolen underwear.
He quickly turned away, but not before once more catching sight of her full breasts.
“I’ll see if I can find something more appropriate,” he stammered, his back to her as he darted from the room. He bounded up the steps to the upper storage level and stood a long moment trying to collect his awakening hormones, as well as his wits.
It was cold up here, thankfully. He could feel the heat still surging through him, reaction to a half-naked woman, an attraction to a fantasy figure, someone who most probably wasn’t what she appeared to be. From what he knew, a Djinni was a monster that could take on the image of choice according to whim or the situation.
His eyes settled on a bookcase, one filled with books he’d read as a youngster. Among the books were two sets of encyclopedias he’d used in his junior high school days, plus titles like The Thousand and One Nights, and Arabian Nights, the later of which he’d only just been re-reading before returning it to these bookshelves. If he hadn’t pinched himself earlier and discovered that he wasn’t dreaming, he might have convinced himself that what was happening was simply the result of reading that book.
He walked over to the bookcase and focused on the encyclopedias, hoping to glean some information to go along with the storybook knowledge he already had. He needed something to take his mind off the seductive nature of his houseguest and looking up her mythical nature only made sense.
He was pleased to see that both encyclopedias offered information and he spread them out for comparison as he read.
The Djinni, Jinni, or Genii is supposed to have evolved two thousand years before the first man, Adam. Translations have resulted in different spellings, the pluralized form simply a shortened version. Genie and Genies are the English spelling.
So far he could follow that. Then discrepancies began, made more difficult by the scanty information. Islam and Muslim religion, Persia and Arabia, were all included in the same short references, with occasional mention of Turkey.
Islamic mythology cites these beings as spirits cast below the angels and demons. Djinn are benevolent or malevolent, the good Djinni being beautiful, while the evil ones are hideous to look at.
“Great. That must mean Jasmine is one of the good guys, er, girls,” he reassured himself aloud and continued his perusal of the two books.
According to legend, the Djinni is created of fire and is capable of invisibility or can assume various forms, animal and human, and be of help or hindrance to man.
“Invisibility? Just what I need—someone who can disappear on me!”
There was reference to Arabic mythology, which also cited Djinn as supernatural spirits below the level of angels and devils who actually fell into three different classes, all three having varying degrees of evilness ranging from treacherous to diabolic.
A chill coursed through Noah. He preferred to believe the previous information. Reading that Djinn were beings of air or smokeless flame that could dwell in inanimate objects such as stones, trees, air, fire and earth, set him to thinking that not everything he was reading was likely.
“Stones and earth? No, I don’t believe that.” He decided to ignore the bit about their diabolical nature, too.
They possess the bodily needs of mortal humans and can be killed but are free of physical restraints. They have association with magic.
“Magic? Yeah, I’ve seen that, so that’s true,” he said aloud with some satisfaction.
While able to exercise a supernatural influence, either good or bad, they live, propagate their kind and die as mortals do, except that the duration of their lives is much longer.
He read of their mountain home in or around Arabia, and was once more left wondering at the small discrepancy of where Mt. Kaf was actually situated. When there wasn’t any more to be gleaned from the outdated but still useful books of knowledge, Noah closed them quietly and replaced them on the shelves.
There had been no reference to gender, though pictures typically showed them as being male. Of course there had to be females. Considering that men and women were cast in society differently in the time setting of the tales he’d read, he reasoned this was probably why there were no stories involving female Djinni.
Now he was about to gain firsthand insight into the lives of the mystical creatures and he fervently wished he wasn’t! Was Jasmine, the Djinni, a monster appearing to be an enticing princess? Could he resist the allure of wealth and power? Would he be safe from the Djinni who would be living in his house? While the ideas fascinated him they also terrified him. The hair on his arms prickled and he could practically see his shirtsleeves expand to accommodate their rise.
What gave him further pause was what the religious community, and his father in particular, would think. They would be awestruck to discover he had a female houseguest, a rather exotic one at that. He had always held strict moral counsel for himself. Admittedly, after a disastrous marriage, he found his views more tolerant though he’d never given thought to revising his own strict conduct. But, maybe that had been because to date there had been no reason for him to rethink his moral views. They were ingrained in his soul and he knew he wouldn’t readily relax them.
He was going to have his will tested to the limit, all right. Unfortunately, his true situation couldn’t be revealed to anyone else and that would make things doubly difficult. Only God would know the truth.
With a sigh he turned back to the storage boxes and went through them more carefully this time. When he was done, he made his way down the steps slowly and noisily. He didn’t want to find her indecently unclothed. His imagination said otherwise but he quashed the fantasies with firm determination.
Downstairs, he found Jasmine staring out the window, her own few pieces of brightly colored garments back in place without benefit of scratchy underwear. Even with her back to him she looked dejected, her head bent, her shoulders hunched. Once more he suppress
ed the urge to take her into his arms and comfort her. He was acutely aware of a growing hunger, of wanting her. If he kept reminding himself of his moral standards, maybe he’d be able to banish the desire.
Fat chance. But, I will not give into my yearnings!
If he concentrated on helping her achieve reinstatement into Djinn society, she could leave before his willpower was totally shot. Did he want to go back to tamped-down passions with nothing to spur him on except day-to-day living and the prospect of reviving his dream of an ark some day in the future? He honestly couldn’t answer that. He had no idea what having Jasmine in his house was going to do to him.
He might have to let her do things, magical things. The prospect was somewhat frightening, more than somewhat in fact.
He cleared his throat loudly. “I think you might find something useful in here.” He held out a bundle of clothes as she turned around. “There isn’t much—a couple of cotton tee-shirts to er, cover your middle.” He caught himself staring at that tantalizing section of bare skin incompletely covered by tassels, remembering what she had felt like under his exploring fingers as he’d warmed her in his bed. Unbidden heat began to curl through him. He shoved the clothing into her hands. “Here are some cotton socks, too. They won’t itch.”
The dimness surrounding her began to lighten with every word he spoke. She definitely had an aura around her and he fervently wished that he couldn’t see it. He’d always thought that auras were silly women’s stuff.
* * *
Jasmine scrutinized the offering then looked up at Noah as he finished speaking in a rush, his gaze darting from her almost-bare belly to her bare sandal-clad feet and finally back up to meet her own gaze. His reddened complexion indicated that he was unused to her style of scant dress, but his eyes were registering admiring awareness.
She was familiar with the approval, but not such charity from a mortal. It was a simple thing, just a bit of clothing, but never had anyone given her such a heartfelt gift. In fact no master had ever given her anything, being more interested in receiving rather than in giving. She fingered one of her wristbands, signifying that she was in service, but this servitude certainly was not going the way she had envisioned. While the Djinni King could follow her movements by the slave bands, thankfully he would not know the circumstances surrounding it.
When she could speak around the lump in her throat, she tried not to offend him with her honesty. “You are most kind. They are welcome for now, but I love to design and sew my own clothes. It is customary for my people to pursue interests in certain things without using magic. Sewing is one of mine.”
Noah’s apologetic demeanor disappeared, replaced by a wide smile that was obviously genuine enthusiasm for her abilities. The way his whole face lit up lifted her spirits considerably.
“Then I’ll get you a sewing machine next time I’m in town.”
“Oh, no need!” Jasmine exclaimed, anxious to show him what she could do. She turned abruptly, folded her arms, nodded her head, and a sewing machine appeared on the table.
Unfortunately, it teetered near the edge and Noah was barely in time to push it farther back. He looked in wide-eyed disbelief at her as he patted the machine, probably without knowing that he did.
Jasmine groaned. “If I had set this down first”—and she set the bundle of clothes beside the sewing machine—“I would have had greater control.” She lifted her shoulders apologetically, adding with resignation, “Then again, it might not have helped. My apology that you have the misfortune to find a flawed Djinni.”
“No harm done.” While Noah’s voice was high, his eyes had returned to their normal size. He was no doubt feeling lucky that the heavy cast metal machine hadn’t fallen on his foot. “And, I don’t need any Djinni to serve me, remember?”
She watched his Adam’s apple bob hard, as if he was thinking that what was ahead of him would be a difficult thing to swallow.
“What exactly are your powers supposed to be?” he asked, reluctance in his voice, as if he really didn’t want to know but knew he should find out.
She was equally reluctant to answer. Once a master knew of the full extent of her powers, they kept asking for more and more. They were prone to become angry, too, when she could not perform as requested. “My powers are many,” she began carefully. “Bestowed to a Djinni are certain rights and privileges, according to rank and age. I am yet young and not so successful with my experience, so, to make things appear or disappear are my greatest achievements, and with each task my powers grow.”
“You can cause objects to maneuver and work on their own, like that snow shovel out there today,” Noah confirmed, effectively distracted. When she nodded he asked, “Do you appear and disappear, too, in a cloud of smoke?”
“It only appears that way,” Jasmine confirmed, “provided I have my magic urn to go to.”
He abruptly whirled and stepped over to the refrigerator, effectively dismissing her explanation, as if it had unsettled him. “Hungry?” he asked as he made much of surveying the shelves inside.
“That is what I do now, Ma… Noah,” Jasmine said, eager to make amends. “What would you like?”
Noah turned with a frown and took in her folded, upraised arms, her stance to bring her powers into play, to zap onto the table any delicacies he should ask for. She watched his gaze zero in on the way her stance accented her bosom. She always hated it when a master did that. However, his stare was not predatory like the others. She did not have time to analyze what she had seen since he proved himself unlike previous masters once more as he turned back and pulled out several bowls and pots.
“I’ll just set these leftovers to warm on the stove,” he said, transferring them to the kitchen range.
Amazed by his obvious discomfort at being caught staring at her womanly attributes, as much as by his determination to continue doing things his way, Jasmine locked eyes with him across the stove. He did not trust her powers. She amended that—Noah was accustomed to doing for himself. It would take time for him to realize that she could do these things for him, if she could manage without bungling. She actually wanted to show him what she could do, which was a novel experience. She turned and with a nod, the table was set, everything landing in its place as she had witnessed at her first meal. She let out her breath and smiled with satisfaction.
Noah fixed his gaze on the table before speaking with halting words. “Well… done. Please be seated. Lunch will, ah, be served in a few minutes.”
Jasmine let him have his way without argument, though of course she could have put the serving bowls and food on the table, too.
Noah took up his own chair after he had settled the various food containers onto the table. “There’s a room with a spare bed in it upstairs that I’ll move to. That will leave the warmer downstairs bedroom for you. I know it isn’t as luxurious as you’re used to, but I hope you’ll be comfortable enough.”
“That is very kind, but I do not think it is correct for me to remove my master from his bed. I can manage, I—”
“I’m not your master!” Noah roared, red-faced as he leaped to his feet. “We are just two people sharing a house and right now you very definitely need the warmer place.” Abruptly, he plunked back down onto the chair. “Besides, etiquette dictates that as owner of this house, you are my guest and a houseguest is always treated with respect and privilege. That is what my parents taught me.” He had dropped his voice an octave but glared at her to enforce his final decision once and for all.
The intensity of both his words and his look were not meant to be a threat, she realized. In fact, the way he sat back suggested he was sorry for his outburst, but the stubborn set of his mouth also said he was not going to change his mind. Jasmine dropped her gaze lest she show amusement at the contradiction of his words and his tone in delivering them.
“As thee… you wish,” she said with a bow of her head. “I will be pleased to stay.” She still regarded him as her master but she would endeavor to make
him feel less irritated by his status. Intuition told her that for once, serving a master would be a pleasure rather than a duty and she was actually looking forward to her service.
It would also be a challenge to do so without him being aware of it.
Might this be the mortal she should experience? Somehow it had been in her mind that the person would be someone associated with her master, rather than her actual master. The prospect of that being Noah held real appeal.
Chapter 3
Jasmine took over both Noah’s bedroom and his living room, not that she actually occupied the latter, but she did redecorate. Noah was stunned to step into the living room to find a room that he would never have recognized as being in his house.
The walls had gone from darkly archaic to brightly exotic, lit by a series of what he’d describe as nervous candles. She’d said she was good with candles, didn’t she? The swirl of delicate pink and ivory was not wallpaper he discovered. He snatched his fingers away as the fabric moved under his hand, like it was a live thing. It shimmered around him with a barely discernible motion that seemed to be in rhythm with a faint musical hum he could neither identify nor locate. The quivering walls and hauntingly beautiful sound were more disconcerting than the flickering candles. The feeling of a presence sent a shiver through his body.
Then he noticed the rug, a lush, dusty-rose shag. Thankfully it didn’t move under his feet, inviting him to luxuriate in the cushiony softness.
His antique walnut furniture remained the same, though his faded sofa was now covered by fine-haired sheepskins. His wooden tables, chairs and the writing desk looked good in their new surroundings.
An elegant marble statue stared at him. He tried to return the steady gaze but the scrutiny with which it held him was unnerving. He felt ridiculous letting a stone statue intimidate him and determinedly turned his view aside.
