by Emma Holly
Kong was on the run then—and a klutzy run it was. Everything he could bump into and smash he did. He tried to duck through the door of a museum and flipped the roof off instead. Galleries bared to the sky, the startled art lovers screamed and fled. The camera zoomed in on a gold-framed portrait that hung in the most prominent spot.
“That must be the fair maiden from the title,” Connor guessed.
“It’s Luna!” Georgie exclaimed, shivering as she recognized the features her former guardian had been born with.
The empress looked glorious in her pastel blue Grecian gown, her skin like snow, her long silver hair seeming to float on the wind of her personal power. With a shimmer of magic, she came alive and stepped off the painted canvas. Though miniscule compared to her adversary, her manner was fearless.
She spoke the first dialogue of the film.
“Nummius,” she intoned, pointing commandingly toward the beast. “If it costs the final breath in my body, never shall you destroy our beautiful city.”
“Hahaha,” Kong laughed in a rumbling voice. “I’m already destroying it.”
His apish arm reached into the next gallery, where the museum’s patrons cowered. He plucked a little boy and girl from the huddle. Georgie gasped as he shoved the terrified children into his mouth and crunched bloodily down on them.
“God’s sake,” Iksander snapped.
When Georgie glanced at him, he was furious.
“That’s supposed to me,” he said, gesturing angrily toward the screen. “That ape gobbling down those children is my stand-in.”
“It doesn’t look like you,” Georgie said unsurely.
“It has golden hair and green eyes. Hell, Luna’s calling it Nummius. That’s my dynastic name. This movie is propaganda. It’s supposed to whip her people into hating me.”
Was he right? She turned from him to the film. Kong—or Nummius—wiped blood from his chin with what she presumed was the flag of the City of Endless Night.
Probably using it as a napkin was extra offensive.
“Enough,” Iksander said, a small surge of magic reinforcing his order. The film stopped rolling. Still annoyed, he pushed to his feet. He swayed unexpectedly.
Georgie didn’t get a chance to ask if he were all right.
“No,” he said, eyes widening as he grabbed the balcony rail for balance. He confused her by dropping to his hands and knees to peer underneath his seat. “Damn it.”
She heard a tearing sound as he freed something he found there. He rose again, thrusting out his palm to display what looked like a golden scarf pin in the shape of a bumblebee. Shreds of velvet clung to the pointy part. “Everyone in this place is a damned vampire.”
“What is it?”
“An emotion skimmer. While the audience for the ‘entertainment’ is getting all worked up, these devices suck loose magic from their auras—not something decent djinn do without consent. And to think I was telling myself Luna’s citizens were people the same as mine.”
“Of course they’re people,” Connor said. “That’s not a wrong idea.”
The sultan frowned at his soothing tone. “What they’re doing here is wicked!”
“They’re trying to catch up to their city’s more privileged residents—or they were. Obviously, they no longer have the power to run this place. Maybe Luna’s taxes are wicked. You said yourself they ought to be illegal.”
Iksander crossed his arms and glowered. Connor’s gentle smile didn’t defuse his anger.
“Let’s not argue,” Georgie said. “None of us can swear we’d behave differently if we were in the locals’ shoes. We can’t know,” she insisted when the sultan opened his mouth. “Consider the rules you’d bend if it would help your people.”
That silenced his objections.
“Right,” she said. “So maybe we’ve wasted enough time on my detour. We should probably return to the reading room.”
Connor wistful glance at the screen was easy to interpret.
“Oh no,” Iksander said. “We’re not watching a second more of that slander.”
DESPITE IKSANDER’S eagerness to leave, Connor saw Georgie had succeeded in calming him. Because he seemed more receptive, Connor decided to reiterate his point. It was, after all, an important one.
“I can feel them, you know,” he said as they filed out of the row of seats.
“Feel who?” the sultan asked brusquely.
“The energy of the djinn who live in this neighborhood. Their spirits mix light and dark, the same as every person I’ve ever met.”
“Have it your way. Luna’s people aren’t more evil. Then again, you thought Luna was worth adoring. Maybe you and I have different standards for these things.”
Connor was an angel, so possibly Iksander had a point. “I’m trying to reassure you your kinder instincts weren’t mis—”
“Shit,” Iksander cursed, jolting to a halt in front of him.
They’d reentered the theater’s lobby at the top of the curving stairs. Down below, four locals stood looking up at them. Connor recognized the one-armed shop owner, the two ladies Iksander had spoken to near the coffee stand, plus the hunched and bundled novel reader from the library. They didn’t appear angry. All the same, Connor disliked the stomach-clenching impression that the neighborhood watch had caught them trespassing.
“At least they aren’t holding pitchforks,” Georgie murmured beside him.
“We know you’re not from the provinces,” the young man from the shop announced.
“That’s right,” the bolder of the coffee ladies piped in support.
The elderly novel reader shook one gnarled finger up at them. “You’re borgialargo. You stink of dirty money and gray magic.”
Connor’s mind struggled to decode the term she’d used. A cross between “mafia” and “venture capitalist” was what it came up with.
The sultan seemed unfazed by the alien word. Perhaps, being djinn, his mind had a shorter distance to translate. He jerked his chin higher. Connor thought he read relief behind the proud gesture. Iksander must have feared he’d been recognized as Luna’s enemy.
He addressed the shopkeeper haughtily. “If we are what you say, would we be likely to admit it?”
“You might if you were interested in a unique business opportunity. As you can see, this theater is available for purchase.”
“Purchase!” Iksander scoffed.
“Or lease,” the young man amended. “Assuming we can come to an appropriate profit-sharing arrangement.”
“Oh yes,” Iksander sneered. “I can see how much ‘profit’ can be made, what with the heaps of disposable income in this locale.”
“We’re not rubes,” the young man retorted. “The Variété always drew its customers from the high city. The hoity toities are too snobbish to steal human shows themselves, but they love watching. Plus there’s a . . . secondary income stream.”
He meant the magic skimming devices the sultan had discovered beneath the seats. Disapproval tightened Iksander’s face. Connor could tell he was about to offer his opinion of the practice—probably at length. While his objections might be ethically justified, they contradicted the character he’d assumed.
Ironically, Connor’s angelic intuition sensed an opportunity opening. Touching Iksander’s arm to warn him, he spoke instead of him. “Your specialized equipment didn’t escape our notice. What sort of take did this facility pull?”
“Two hundred megajoules a night.”
Connor had no idea what this meant in terms of magic. “Hm,” he said as if mulling the sum over.
The shop owner interpreted his reaction as a cue to open the bargaining. “We’d accept a sixty/forty split. Your favor.”
“As generous as that?” Iksander observed dryly. “When you don’t have adequate juice to start this place again on your own.”
“Fine. Sixty-five/thirty-five.”
“Now see here,” Iksander said, unable to maintain the pretense a moment longer. “We aren�
��t interested in—”
“We’ll think on it,” Connor interrupted. “And get back to you tomorrow.”
Iksander gaped at him in amazement.
Connor knew the leader of the Glorious City wasn’t used to being overruled. Connor wouldn’t have done so if he hadn’t felt it was important. Praying Iksander would hear him out, he spoke to him directly. “Unlikely as it seems on the surface, this venture may suit our needs. We should do these folks the courtesy of considering it.”
“Courtesy” was the right word to use. Djinn valued politeness. Though Iksander’s mouth thinned, he agreed with a slit-eyed nod.
Connor had a feeling he’d be told what the sultan thought of his help later.
“HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN who’s the expert on this dimension? For that matter, do you have any experience doing deals with djinn?”
True to Connor’s expectations, Iksander waited until they returned to the power plant to let his fury out. The surprise ride on their new flying carpet had so delighted Connor it was difficult to mind being shouted at.
Giving up on trying, he smiled at Iksander. “I know you’re used to having the final word, but for now we three are a team.”
“Teams have leaders,” Iksander reminded.
“In that case, let’s vote on who’s in charge.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have, but Connor laughed at the sultan’s splutter of outrage. Was it odd that provoking the prideful djinni made his heart beat faster?
“Come on,” he coaxed. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little democracy.”
Iksander’s handsome face turned red. “I’m not a tyrant, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Don’t tease him,” Georgie scolded as she finished shrugging out of her black jacket. She hung it in one of the break room’s mahogany lockers. Per usual, Iksander’s gaze slid to the shape of her body. “Of course Iksander’s the ultimate boss. It’s his people who are in trouble. We’d just like you to consult us.”
Once again, her manner mollified him. With another unexpected pulse of interest, Connor saw the sultan wasn’t simply attracted to Georgie; he valued her opinion.
“He didn’t consult me.” A millimeter from pouting, the sultan crossed his arms.
Georgie squeezed his broad shoulder. “Connor couldn’t consult you with the others watching. And nothing’s decided. We’ll weigh the pros and cons now.”
Attracted or not, the sultan wasn’t easy with Georgie’s “we.”
“We should reopen the theater,” Connor said boldly. “Energy to charge a portal is exactly what we’re short of. Besides which, we’ll get more information from the locals if we’re part of their landscape. On top of that, it will be fun.”
“Well, as long as it’s fun.” Iksander rolled his eyes.
“Connor has a point,” Georgie said, which pleased him very much. “For the moment, we don’t have a better plan. If one turns up, we can switch gears.”
“We’d also be helping the neighborhood,” Connor added. “How fair is it that they’re taxed so much they can’t power activities other citizens takes for granted? They need that cut of the theater’s take.”
Iksander exhaled a lengthy sigh.
“I know the inequity bothers you,” Connor said. “Even if you called them vampires.”
“They’re not puppies,” Iksander warned. “Djinn like them can do real harm. If they knew who we actually were . . .”
“Speaking of which.” Georgie held up a pair of shears she’d brought out from the kitchen. “For the sake of staying incognito, I think we ought to give you a makeover.”
“Damn it,” Iksander said.
Georgie understood this wasn’t a refusal.
GEORGIE DIDN’T LET Iksander look in the locker mirror until she was finished. Her fussing and combing as she snipped gave him a slight hard-on. This, as much as the odd lightness of his head, made him frown at his reflection. The ends of the golden waves hung well above his shoulders.
“Did you have to make it so short?”
“Hey,” she said, “be grateful I can cut straight. Anyway, it’s the same length as the businessmen we saw in the city center. I suspect hair as long as yours is restricted to males of rank.”
She wasn’t wrong, but he frowned harder. “I don’t look like myself.”
“That’s the idea.” She stood behind him, examining her handiwork. As she did, her slender fingers combed strands around his ears. Had he known that part of his body was sexual? The heated tingle between his legs reignited with a vengeance. “Maybe you should change your eye color too. Can you do that magically?”
“Yes,” he said grumpily.
She smiled. Her gentle amusement reminded him of Connor. Unlike Connor, she made him feel ashamed.
“Sorry,” he said. “Everything considered, the length of my hair isn’t important. I shouldn’t be childish.”
“Everyone’s entitled now and then.” She patted his shoulders before stepping back from him. “Don’t worry. You’re still gorgeous.”
He turned to face her. They were alone. Connor was wandering the plant, on a search for what he called scroungeables. Georgie flushed as the moment stretched. Possibly she regretted giving the compliment. Her hands knotted together at her waist.
“Your opinion honors me,” he said.
“Well,” she said. “I’d have to be blind not to notice you’re good looking.”
He didn’t answer, just held her gaze until she went redder and turned away.
No doubt he was also childish to enjoy flustering her.
CONNOR DIDN’T PUT THE moves on her until after they’d finished bathing. Truthfully, Georgie had expected him to do it sooner. They rarely went a night without having sex—and sometimes mornings too. Given how much she enjoyed the physical act, she counted herself lucky Connor’s drive was robust.
She’d have lit the match herself in the bath—except she felt funny about seducing him when it was Iksander who’d gotten her hormones revved.
“Ready?” Connor asked huskily.
She stood at the line of sinks in the women’s bath, still naked and toweling her damp hair dry. Her pussy clenched at the way his dreamy blue eyes met hers. Him standing behind her, looking in the mirror at their reflections, was a lot like her and Iksander earlier.
Don’t be so flipping fickle, she told herself.
“Yes,” she said. “You?”
Connor’s smile stretched slow and catlike across his face. She couldn’t recall seeing that precise grin on him before. The roguish expression caused her sex to go liquid.
“I’ve been ready since this morning.” He dropped the towel he’d tucked snugly around his waist. Her eyes dipped, her breath sucking in with interest. His solidly muscled body was always a sight to see, but he was nail-pounding hard right then, his cock thrusting thick and flushed between powerful thighs. Staying where he was, beyond arm’s reach, he allowed her to look her fill.
When he cupped his balls and gave them a squeeze, Georgie licked her lips. “You woke up like that?”
“I’ve been like this on and off all day.” He laughed. “It’s as uncomfortable as it looks. Sometimes being considerate is hell.”
He meant because Iksander had been around. Georgie’s nipples contracted and grew hotter. She had to swallow before she spoke. “No need to suffer now. You should come here and make us both feel better.”
His eyes lit with hot blue fire. She expected him to step right to her, but evidently he wanted to tease her more.
“Don’t turn toward me,” he ordered. “Brace on the sink and watch us in the mirror.”
It was like he knew her guilty secret . . . and wanted to use it to get her more worked up. She wrapped her hands on the cool porcelain. Still she waited for him to move.
“Your legs aren’t wide enough. And you should arch your ass out more.”
She obeyed without hesitation. No matter if her conscience was a teensy bit conflicted, she wanted this. The mirror stretched
from the sink back to well above her head. The reflection of her upper body was crystal clear. Her breasts dangled forward, their tips red and excited. Her pulse beat visibly in her throat.
Seeing this and the other parts her forward bend exposed, Connor’s breath came faster. “That’s a sight to say a hosanna for.”
He stepped to her then, his hands enclosing the halves of her bottom. He smoothed his palms around her, squeezing, warming, until she fought a squirm.
“Such a sexy ass,” he murmured, “and such beautiful strong thighs. Sometimes I wish I could watch you ride me and take you like this at the same time.”
Normally, Georgie would have cracked a joke. Tonight, with images she shouldn’t be entertaining rising, all she could do was shiver.
Connor seemed to like that. He stroked her thighs—both the front and the inner slopes—as his soft lips whispered over her shoulder blades. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, finishing with a brief nip to her earlobe.
“Do you want me, Georgie?” he asked. “Have you been thinking about me pumping inside you?”
He wasn’t seeking reassurance. He seemed to know the answer already. His fingers dipped between her legs, sliding into her wetness and stroking there. Her head went back. He was rubbing the smooth, slick skin between her labia. Her grip tightened on the sink. There. He found the target she wished he would. He tugged the hood of her clitoris, in and out, in and out, then squeezed the hard little swelling it protected. Pulses of pleasure streaked deep into her pussy. Georgie whimpered with longing.
“I like that,” he purred. “You should always moan for me.”
His long legs shifted, his body suddenly crowding close. His hot, smooth tip brushed between her legs. He sucked a breath and pushed into her.
Heaven slid along her nerves. Georgie arched, strength and desire pressing her back over his entry.
