by Emma Holly
The muscles in his rear shivered like a horse with a fly on it.
“Almost there,” Georgie said, crouching down to—he presumed—diagram a wing tip.
When she stood again, she slid her hand up the paper and left it beside his neck. The caress was fond and easy, the same sort of touch they traded dozens of times a day. Right then, it made him crazy—especially when she squeezed a tense muscle.
Wow, he thought. I wasn’t prepared for this.
“What do you think?” Georgie asked Iksander. “Does that span look appropriate?”
Iksander stepped back to check. The shift dislodged Connor’s hold on his upper arm. His arousal had a second’s reprieve before Iksander re-secured the paper at his wrist. Connor’s pulse went wild as the triple connection linked up again. Amazingly, neither of his companions sensed the development.
“The height is fine. The feathers could be bigger. Or maybe the apparatus needs to be heftier. His musculature is so substantial delicate wings would look funny.”
Iksander thought he had substantial musculature? Connor couldn’t help but be gratified by that.
“True,” Georgie said, giving his back a pat. “We wouldn’t want him to look like a rugby player dressed up as Tinkerbelle.”
“Ha,” Iksander responded, barely needing a moment to understand her joke.
“Okay,” Georgie said. “I’ll work on this more later.”
She pulled the paper away, leaving his musculature—and other things—without cover. Connor glanced toward the unmistakable Everest pushing out his trousers. Despite the pair having let him go, the hump wasn’t receding. He’d have to turn around at some point.
How long could a person realistically take to pull a shirt back on?
“By the way,” Georgie said as he slowly reached for it. “Neisha wants to play Asmodeus.”
Iksander’s distraction at this announcement was welcome. “Neisha! You didn’t tell her yes, did you?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d ask the locals their opinion. We’re hoping to get more magic out of this project than we put in. If the djinn are put off by our conception . . .”
“I don’t think they’ll be. By reputation, the City of Endless Night tolerates experimenting with gender roles.”
Georgie voiced the question Connor didn’t have the courage to. “Does your city tolerate it?”
“Well, women playing male parts wouldn’t be illegal. Maybe frowned upon in certain circles. Upper classes females more often veil or live apart. Luna’s city is considered fast by ours. That’s partly prejudice, I suppose. Clearly, people here don’t have the highest opinion of me and mine.”
This wasn’t easy for the proud djinni to admit. Georgie gently socked his shoulder. “You’re the bigger man for realizing it.”
“Being the bigger man didn’t save my people.”
“Not yet. But we have more reasons to think positive.”
“I thought that was Connor’s job,” Iksander joked.
“He rubs off on a person.” Georgie patted Connor’s back, which now had a shirt on it. “What do you say? Shouldn’t Iksander be optimistic?”
“Certainly,” he said almost normally.
Because he couldn’t put it off, he turned and looked at them. Iksander was knuckling his temple while Georgie smiled indulgently. Though Connor hadn’t wanted the pair to notice his arousal, discovering they hadn’t noticed anything was illogically frustrating.
Chapter Seven
CONNOR WASN’T WRONG about djinn being fast and smart. To Georgie’s amazement, before another week had passed, Sasha had cast the playlets and scheduled rehearsals. After some convincing, he agreed to play Sheba opposite Neisha’s Asmodeus.
He was still second-guessing his decision as they laid out scripts for their first table read. This was happening in a classroom at Prospekt Market Primary School, the use of which they’d been granted free of charge. Sasha’s family, who ran a restaurant, was supplying food and drinks. Though no one had arrived yet, Georgie already felt thankful. Whatever else she and her companions accomplished, the neighborhood certainly was opening its arms to them.
Sasha had his own sixteen-year-old perspective on how matters were unfolding.
“People are going to laugh,” he warned.
“That’s okay,” Georgie said. “The story has a comic side. Plus, imagine how authentic the part where Solomon scolds Sheba for her hairy legs will be.”
“My grandparents think me playing her is hilarious. And my mother offered to help me paint my face.”
“It’s nice they’re supporting you.”
Sasha rolled his eyes, typical teenage style.
“You’re doing a great job,” she added, wanting him to know this. “We couldn’t have pulled this together without you.”
“It will be good to have some extra spending magic in my pocket.”
Neisha thought so too. To listen to the girl chatter, she thought her slice of the take would spin the moon a few times over. Georgie bit the side of her thumb. She hoped this crazy idea wasn’t going to crash and burn. More people than Iksander would end up crestfallen.
“Don’t you start worrying,” Sasha said, noting her furrowed brow. “I can do that for the both of us.”
“Right,” she said, forcing her thumb away from her teeth. “No worrying for me.”
A noise in the hall outside caused her to turn her head and smile. Those were Iksander and Connor’s voices, joking together about something.
“Ugh,” Sasha muttered. “Guess I’ll get your attention back after you greet your men.”
Her men? What did he mean by that? Connor was the only man who sort of qualified as hers. Unless she’d been too obvious about the sultan attracting her . . .
“Go on,” Sasha said, shooing her. “We can finish talking business once your heart stops pitty-pattering over them.”
Her heart wasn’t pitty-pattering—or not more than a little. She shut her fished-open mouth and pointed at Sasha.
“I’ll get right back to you,” she said firmly.
She pushed into the corridor without checking if he rolled his eyes again.
“Georgie!” Connor cried happily, sweeping her into a bear hug. “Andrei helped me levitate today. I floated all the way to the stage ceiling.”
Connor’s aptitude shouldn’t have surprised her—or his good memory. Unlike her, he never misnamed Iksander when others were nearby. Held high on his chest, she smiled at the sultan behind him. “Andrei is an excellent coach.”
Possibly her heart did skip when Iksander grinned. Then again, what woman’s wouldn’t? The sultan was a stunningly handsome man.
“If he keeps this up,” Iksander predicted, “he won’t embarrass anyone.”
“I can totally keep it up!” Connor’s arms snugged tighter around her waist. “Nobody keeps it up better than I do.”
He seemed delighted when Georgie blushed, nuzzling her neck and play-growling.
“Idiot,” she said, shoving at his shoulders.
He swung her into his arms to fly six feet down the locker-lined corridor. She yelped when he suddenly lost power and plummeted. She wasn’t hurt. He’d landed on his ass with her on top of him. Far from being embarrassed, he couldn’t stop laughing.
“You show her how it’s done,” he urged Iksander. “My dignity needs to recover.”
“Is that what you’re calling it?” Georgie said, sprawled on the gleaming black marble floor. Financially challenged schools sure weren’t the same here as in Virginia.
“Want to?” Iksander asked, holding his hands to her.
She hesitated, surprised he was willing. Then again, what was the harm? He seemed to have gotten the message she was committed to Connor. They’d shared no more kisses since last time—not even a close call. She saw no point rejecting an overture when he was trying to be friendly.
She let him help her to her feet.
With her hands in his, he considered her. Having his full attention stirred a
n undeniable physical awareness. “How’s your nerve today?”
“My nerve?”
“I can levitate, but flying you in my smoke form would be safer.”
“Really? I wouldn’t fall through your hold?”
He shook his head and smiled. “No more than planes fall out of the sky. My energy moves faster when I’m in that state. I look different, though. Some humans would find me frightening.”
“Not Georgie,” Connor declared. “Georgie is plucky.”
Georgie laughed at his defense. “If I get nervous, I promise I won’t panic. I’d be interested to see you change. I confess I’ve been curious.”
“All right then,” Iksander said. “Let’s see if I remember how.”
He had a good poker face. She thought ulp a second before she realized he was teasing her.
THOUGH HE HADN’T TAKEN his alternate form since leaving the Glorious City, Iksander wasn’t apprehensive. No matter their level of personal magic, most djinn could smoke without thinking. The ability was on the level of shoe tying for humans: a skill learned early and used often.
He stepped back from Georgie, through the door that led to the school courtyard. With nothing but sky above him, he closed his eyes and pulled in a breath.
His edges blurred before he finished releasing it.
Still man-shaped but churning dark gray in color, his smoke form was larger than his physical—perhaps as tall as seven feet. Unimpeded by physical substance, magic flowed into him in a rush. His senses were abruptly more nuanced, subtler but sharper at the same time. His eyes were brighter, their glow lighting the vaporous swirl that surrounded them. He’d missed this. The ability to change form was part of who he was—as a djinni and a man. Maybe he resembled a human, but he was a being of power.
“Ooh,” Georgie said, fingers pressed to her mouth. Her eyes were wide but she didn’t appear afraid. Intrigued, was the word that rose in his mind.
The satisfaction this brought him was visceral.
“Give me your hands,” he said in his deeper than normal voice.
She caught her lower lip in her teeth even as she grinned. After a slight hesitation, she extended both hands to him. Her elbows jerked as their palms connected, but she didn’t snatch them away.
“You’re tingly,” she commented with a breathy laugh. “But you almost feel solid.”
He bent to lift her, sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. She gasped, which pleased him too. “Put your arms around my neck and hold on. I want you to feel secure.”
She obeyed him in this as well. Their eyes met—hers the same melting lavender as always, his flaming with so much magic the glow reflected off her face. Her pupils had expanded, and her cheeks were rosy with excitement. When her soft lips parted in wonder, he couldn’t help but remember kissing them.
“Oh my,” she murmured.
He took off without warning.
She let out a muffled shriek, her hands and arms clutching him as they soared upward into the sky.
“I have you,” he assured her, though he liked the way her heart thumped.
“You’ve got me. Who’s got you? —Superman,” she added with a laugh. “Someday you’ll have to steal the Christopher Reeve version. Whew. This is higher than we took the flying carpets. Quite a view up here.”
There was a huge moon this evening, bright white and peeking through lacelike clouds. Ice crystals sparkled in the air, perhaps an indicator of snow to come. For the first time in a while, he didn’t feel the cold. His smoke form was exempt from it.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
She nodded, her head turning this way and that to take in the sights, her spiky hair blowing back wildly. “Your energy is like sitting by a fire.”
An image sprang unbidden into his mind: her lounged naked on a cushion before a roaring hearth, lean legs lolling to bare her sex. He could have done without the visual. Holding her against him was personal, more what lovers did than friends. His old kink was being triggered, the one he’d indulged during the dark period after banishing his wife. Believing Najat to have betrayed him, he’d wallowed in the kind of faceless sex he’d never let himself have before. Woman after woman he’d taken in his smoke form, night after night, first his harem and then scores of commoners. Permission he’d had; self-respect not so much. Even when rumors threatened to unmask his identity, he’d kept up the debauchery.
Now he realized his energy was caressing Georgie’s, penetrating her aura at the edges. His smoke form had an erection—not that she or anyone could see. It was possible for him to get off this way, simply by rubbing and intermingling their currents. His smoke cock throbbed, craving exactly that.
Hadn’t he gone long enough without release?
He shook his head mentally. Such reasoning was for ifrits and teenagers. He was an adult. He respected Georgie’s right to refuse. If he truly wanted, he could obtain satisfaction without involving her. That was what perfectly functional fists were for.
“Can we circle that building over there?” Georgie asked. “The castle-y thing with the white and gold onion domes?”
“Of course,” he said, relieved she couldn’t guess his thoughts.
He flew her where she wished, enjoying her delight while ordering his vaporous self into a more controlled state. Thankfully, he’d disciplined it by the time their long meander returned them to the school.
“Ready to land again?” he asked.
“I suppose we should.” She smiled as she sighed. “That was fun. Thank you for taking me.”
He gritted his teeth against envisioning other ways he might have “taken” her.
He was fortunate he refrained. Their descent had an audience. A crowd of about a dozen stood in the school’s courtyard, cast members and other helpers, all their faces upturned to watch.
“Haven’t seen that in a while,” Iksander heard one man comment. “Not in this neighborhood anyway.”
Georgie’s grip on him tightened as he landed.
“Get your feet under you,” he advised. “I’ll change once you have your balance.”
She swayed, clutching his hands briefly. “Okay,” she said when she steadied. “I’m ready.”
Knowing her eyes were on him was unexpectedly flustering. As he reformed, he remembered to rematerialize his trousers but neglected his tunic. He hadn’t done that since he was a boy. The skin of his bare chest immediately pebbled up with cold.
Mother Agnes, the old woman they’d met in the reading room, snickered. “Haven’t seen that in a while either!”
Connor thought her comment was sidesplitting. He shrugged off his coat and handed it to Iksander. “Better not do that while we’re on stage. We’ll run out of costumes.”
“He’ll remember,” Georgie said. “He’s just regaining his smoke legs.”
For some reason, despite everyone being in a good mood, Sasha glowered at her.
“What?” she asked, clearly startled by his crossness.
“This is what you call getting right back to me? You were up there half an hour! Not everyone is fancy-free like you and your lover boys. Some of our cast has to go home to their families on a schedule.”
“Now see here—” Iksander began at his highhandedness.
Georgie stopped him by squeezing his upper arm. “You’re absolutely right, Sasha. That was thoughtless of me. Everyone’s being so helpful. I shouldn’t have wasted their time that way. Please accept my apology.”
The teen martinet sniffed but appeared mollified. “You’re forgiven. Everyone who’s reading tonight, hurry up and come inside.”
Because Georgie had smoothed things over, Iksander didn’t scold the boy, simply gave him a hard look. The fact that no one batted an eye at him being taken for Georgie’s lover didn’t sink in until later.
THOUGH SASHA WAS A great coordinator, he couldn’t oversee everything. Paulette’s friend Maryam volunteered to handle publicity. Because Georgie had some experience with promotion, they
arranged to meet the next afternoon in the restaurant Sasha’s parents owned. Georgie ignored her antsyness at attending by herself. If she were going to be exposed as human, it would have happened already. Iksander hadn’t seemed worried. His concern was making sure she had cash to pay for both of them.
“I won’t go wild,” she’d promised. “I know we’re watching our bottom line.”
“It’s a coffee meeting. Our reserves will cover it.”
She hoped this was true. She had a feeling Iksander wouldn’t admit if they were in trouble.
Despite her back-of-the-mind anxiety, she entered the small restaurant with relish. The warm djinn eatery was a mélange of vibrant colors and spicy scents: a feast for her nose and eyes. Maryam—a pretty, fiftyish djinniya—smiled at her from a cushioned booth at a low table. Her layered gold silk dress was the sort traditional local females wore. Her hair was dark and shining, her eyes a striking daffodil framed by kohl. As Georgie sat, she kneeled up to kiss her cheeks in turn.
The gesture touched her. Maryam was greeting her like a friend.
“Thank you for coming,” Maryam said. “I’m grateful for the chance to run these playbill designs by you.” She slid a handwritten sheet across the table. “Here’s the expense breakdown Andrei asked for. And these are the areas I plan to have the kids plaster with posters.”
Georgie looked at the list. It seemed very organized.
“You’re not taking ads in newspapers?”
“I think it’s best to keep a low profile, given our secondary income stream. Besides which, downtown elites relish feeling edgy—as they’ll do if they follow some flyer stuck up in an alleyway.”
Georgie supposed she’d know. She looked up from the accounting to study Maryam. Beneath her skillful makeup, she seemed weary.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Georgie asked. “I know you and Paulette were close.”
“I need to take my mind off that. Plus, I’m the best choice for it. I handled marketing for the Variété when it was still running. Paulette loved that theater. Whatever human nonsense we got our hands on, she’d scrape up the coins to see. She—of all djinniya—would want the show to go on.”
