“No. You aren’t Peter. You aren’t real,” she said, her tone laced with pain.
“If I am only a dream, then what is the harm? You can give in,” he cajoled, unsure why he was so intent on seducing her, but finding himself compelled to do so. Maybe he had simply denied himself for too long. If not this woman, it might have been any other.
He focused magic through his touch, his fingers still splayed across her stomach, moving slowly toward the softer flesh that formed the delectable peak under her nightshirt. She wouldn’t be able to resist him, especially in this form.
“What’s the harm?” she practically hissed back at him, pushing him away before his hand closed over her breast and scuttling to the other side of the bed. She stood, tall for a woman but still only coming to his shoulder. There was no mistaking her stormy glare.
“The harm is that if I remember what it’s like to be with him, and then I wake up a-alone,” she said haltingly, biting her lip and holding back tears that he could see shimmering in the low, warm light of the room. “I can’t take that.”
Her arms fell from their defensive position at her front to her sides as she slumped back down to sit on the other side of the bed. “I want to wake up now,” she said dispiritedly, closing her eyes hard.
He waited while she did whatever it was she was doing. She opened her eyes again and turned in his direction.
“You’re still here.”
“Yes.” he said, turning back to himself. “I told you, this is not a dream. I am jinn. You found the ring and by slipping it on your finger, your tears touching it, you released me from its bondage. Now I am yours to command.”
It wasn’t strictly true, Alec knew. He was bound to honor her three wishes, though he could do so in any interpretation of them that he wished—a magical loophole—but he didn’t have to do anything else she said. For some reason, though, he didn’t mind the idea of being her slave—or maybe having her be his.
“Fine. If you say so. I’d like to command an interview, first of all. I need one for my paper.”
A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. She was petulant, playing along, still believing she was caught in some strange dream. She also hadn’t wished for the interview, so he could sidestep that one for now.
“Of all the things you could wish for, you would wish for that? To ask me questions?”
“No, it’s not a wish, it’s a command.”
The grin broke loose and he laughed. Most wanted wealth, beauty, revenge, his body or someone else’s, immediately. This luscious woman, who believed he was only a dream, wanted an interview for her newspaper.
“Fine. What if I promise you an interview—later?”
“When?”
“After I grant your wishes. The interview I will do because I want to.”
“Really?”
“Yes. So you can, uh, confirm your source?” he said, grasping for the language she would understand. “Make sure I am who I say I am.”
This time she laughed. Her face lit up when she laughed, and he thought it one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Over a thousand years, Alec had seen a lot.
“I guess that’s true. I wouldn’t expect a genie to be so concerned about research, but since you are just a figment of my imagination to begin with, I guess it makes sense.”
“Do you need time to think about your wish?”
The sadness replaced her smile again, and he almost wished he hadn’t reminded her. He knew what she was going to wish for and while part of him wanted to tell her how foolish it was, that was not his place. Most humans wished for stupid, vain things.
“I can wish for anything?”
“Almost. You cannot wish for immortality, more wishes or to make someone return from the dead.”
Her pretty nose wrinkled. “Ick, no, I don’t want that. I just want the man I love back in my life.”
“He is not dead?” Alec asked, pretending ignorance.
“No, of course not. We just had a…falling-out that’s keeping us apart. It’s not his fault. It’s…complicated.”
“So all you wish is that he would want to be with you?” Alec led her along, rephrasing the wish to his liking, another jinn trick.
“Yes. Yes, please. I always wonder if he has missed me as much as I miss him. I wish we could be together, just like it was before,” she said with a sincere longing so full of ache that it made Alec’s chest tighten. This woman chased her own unhappiness, but it was not for him to judge.
“Granted.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes. Sleep, Nina, and in the morning, you will find your wish has come to pass.”
He watched her eyelids become heavy, a small smile lifting the corner of her generous mouth as she lay back down on the pillows.
“I don’t believe you,” she murmured before falling back to a deep sleep.
Alec leaned down, unable to resist one brief taste of her lips, and whispered against them, “You will.”
3
NINA PULLED ON a yellow cashmere sweater that her mother had sent her for her birthday. At the paper, she’d always worn less colorful, more unisex clothes appropriate for the job. Now, there was no reason not to indulge her love for bright color. One perk of her Scoop job was that they didn’t care what she wore as long as stories were handed in on time. Personality and eccentricity was almost rewarded there, which Nina grudgingly admitted was a welcome perk. She had tired of gray suits.
It was nice of her dream jinn to offer her an interview, but she had more leads to chase down if she was going to get this story in at all. Maybe the other women on the blog would be able to give her more leads than Zoe. Pausing in front of her bed, she swore she could feel the dream jinn’s hand on her skin, the force of the dream revisited. It certainly had seemed real enough.
He’d been so imposing, a big man, tall and muscular, his copper skin gleaming under an ivory satin vest that stoked her imagination. Dark, flowing pants that hid powerful legs, and other delectable surprises. His hands had been gentle, his touch warm, seductive against her skin.
Before he had appeared to her as Peter, she’d been unable to look away from his mesmerizing gray eyes, thickly lashed. His jet-black hair was long, pulled back tightly, away from his face, accenting regal features, his lips sensual and full for a man.
She’d always preferred the cooler, businesslike appearance of patrician, Anglo men such as Peter. Her former lover wasn’t muscular or macho, but wore his suits with a urbane kind of grace. Muscles and seductive eyes had never been her weakness—until now, it seemed.
Shaking her head, she smiled at her own musings. Her imagination had just cooked up some version of what she had been reading about, that was all: dark, exotic men who made women’s wishes come true.
Right.
Stuffing all of her research in her bag, she grabbed her BlackBerry and started to do a quick e-mail check as she ran out the door, and what she saw stopped her in her tracks.
Sweetheart, woke up this morning missing you. Must see you today. Meet me at noon? Peter.
She blinked and reloaded the message a few times to make sure that her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, but it was always still there.
Peter did love her, and he wanted to see her. He was dying without her. She read the words again, doing a little happy dance by the door, her entire body absolutely vibrating with excitement. It was almost ten now. She had to change; no way could she meet Peter in these casual clothes.
Popping off a short e-mail, she told Lindsay that she had interviews and wouldn’t be into the office for most of the day. What did it matter anyway? Maybe this was the first step in her getting her old life back. Once she and Peter were together again, she was sure he could pull some strings for her. Maybe he’d just been waiting, letting it all fall behind them, getting some distance from that mess so that now they could move forward.
She might not get rehired at The Herald, but it was possible her Scoop days were over.
> Bouncing back to her bedroom she sent him an enthusiastic YES.
How to prepare to see the man you loved after a six-month separation? She knew what she hoped would happen, and that meant pulling out the sexiest underwear she had and ditching the sweater and pants. When she saw Peter, she wanted to look like the woman he’d fallen in love with.
As she changed into different outfits, primping and fantasizing about the afternoon meeting, her thoughts landed on the memory of her jinn dream, the handsome genie promising her that her dream would come true.
A shiver worked its way down her spine as his face seemed to appear in front of her eyes again, those seductive dark eyes watching her as she took in the sleek red lace, push-up bra and sheer stockings complete with garters. Crazy, she thought, shaking her head to clear it. Pulling on a conservative gray skirt and jacket over it, she started to feel like her old self.
This would drive Peter wild, she thought with a smile, turning her attention to jewelry and perfume. Silently, however, she thanked the universe, her imaginary jinn, Alec, or whoever it was that made wishes come true.
ALEC WATCHED AS NINA rushed back into her bedroom, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes shining with excitement. She couldn’t see him sitting in the corner. For now, it was better she thought he was the stuff of dreams.
He turned away, summoning the energy to leave her in privacy, though that was difficult; his curiosity to see her without clothing was intense. Instead, he would leave and find another of his kind until she called for him again. The thought had a particular sourness as he watched her get ready to meet her lover. He pushed the thoughts away.
Jealousy was something he’d left behind centuries ago, along with many other useless emotions. He belonged to no one, and no one had ever belonged to him. Jealousy was for humans, who only held their possessions for such a short time. It served no purpose for an immortal.
“You look troubled, Alec,” the familiar voice of his friend, known among the jinn as Ahja, spoke as Alec found himself standing before a long, teak bar, shining glasses hanging overhead, the bottles stacked neatly behind. He smiled at Ahja, who wore the name tag Joe.
“Joe, huh?”
“Yes. As in ‘regular Joe.’ That’s me.”
“Right. Since when do you take on human work, Joe?”
His friend smiled wickedly, and Alec followed Joe’s glance to where a young, nubile waitress took an order from two men sitting at a table, watching a baseball game.
“Since her,” Joe clarified.
“Your current mistress?”
The bartender poured Alec a whiskey and leaned in to say in a low voice, “In every sense of the word.”
Alec shook his head. Joe loved women, and he was also a very, very old jinn. Far older than Alec, though right now he looked like any other human male in his thirties.
“She finds that she likes a man of experience. Tired of boys,” Ahja said with confidence gleaned over millennia. “She has yet to make her first wish, so I think we’ll have quite a bit of fun together before she does so.”
Many jinn didn’t reveal their true nature to their holders—the name of the one who held their vessel, the object to which they had been attached. Delaying wishes was a way of staying in human form for long periods of time, enjoying life as much as possible. Jinn could live as human, though they were not. When it was possible to be trapped inside a ring, bottle or a lamp for hundreds of years, they had become very creative about finding ways to stretch their time outside.
The risk was when the holder figured out the same trick and would enslave the jinn to other kinds of service, spacing out wishes by years and decades in order to keep him. Jinn, for all of their power, were slaves to one of the lowest races—humans. While there were dangers, most of their associations were mundane or pleasant, however. It made Alec think of Nina again. He wondered if she was in Peter’s bed at this very moment.
“I imagine you will teach her well,” Alec said, taking a sip of the whiskey and enjoying the way the spicy liquid warmed him. Jinn all loved anything made of fire, as they were, including good liquor. He could never get drunk, so it wasn’t a problem.
“So, as to your troubles?” Joe inquired, washing out a glass with a white cloth.
“No troubles,” Alec denied, but Joe was too perceptive.
“Hey, man, I’m a bartender. Spill it.”
Alec had to grin, but shook his head. “You know the drill. My mistress is a nice woman, but she loves a jerk and wants him anyway. Her first wish was to get him back in her life.” Alec took another drink and set the glass down. “She’s going to get her wish, and I fear she is not going to like it.”
Joe set the glass down, shrugging. “So? That’s what we do. And at least you are doing her a favor, showing her the truth.”
“She won’t see it that way, I imagine.”
“Who cares?” Joe’s eyes widened, and he whistled low into the air between them. “You like her. You care.”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” Alec denied, but could hear the lie in his own voice.
“Alec, you know better than to let your emotions get involved in jinn business,” Joe said, his own eyes cold and hard. “It can only lead to pain. It’s better to play and deceive, to have fun,” he said with a meaningful glance toward the cute waitress who blew him a kiss. “But that’s all.”
“I know,” Alec agreed. “I’ll get the wishes done and move on.”
“Good. There are murmurings among the others. We’re being tracked.”
Alec nodded. “I think I know of what they speak. The woman I am with now, she’s a reporter—nothing serious, one of the tabloids—but she was researching jinn, and spoke with my former holder. It seems harmless. She doesn’t even believe I am real.”
Joe nodded shortly, leaning forward with his elbows on the edge of the bar. “Be careful. You don’t know what her tricks are, and you can never trust them.”
“Humans, yes.”
“Especially women. I heard of something much more dangerous than a reporter, someone setting a trap. Be careful, my friend,” Joe warned.
Alec was sure whoever was trying to trap a jinn—and people who believed did it all the time, seeking a quick route to wealth or power—that it wasn’t Nina Larson.
“I’ll be careful,” he promised and meant it, because getting too close was dangerous, if not for the reasons Joe thought. It was because when Nina released him, sending him back to the ring, which was inevitable, she would move on, and he would be left to suffer the consequences for eternity.
COPLEY SQUARE WAS bursting with people worshipping spring, eating lunch on the steps of the Boston Public Library and reading on benches while others milled around the offerings of the Farmers’ Market. Nina barely saw any of them as she walked quickly across the square toward the Schön sculpture of the Tortoise and Hare where she and Peter had first kissed. They always knew to meet each other there without needing to say so. The sculpture commemorated the runners of the Boston Marathon, fast and slow alike, and Peter loved it because he ran the race each year. Nina, who had never run anywhere except after a story, preferred to be the hare.
Her heart beat a little faster as she saw his familiar profile as he stood waiting, wearing his business suit as nicely as ever, his ear pasted to his cell phone as usual. She smiled, flexing her fingers in anticipation of touching him again. Finally.
“Peter,” she said from behind, smiling as he spun to face her, his eyes bright with pleasure as he cut the call short and smiled broadly.
“Nina, sweetheart,” he said warmly.
She stepped in for an embrace. “It’s so good to see you, Peter. I’ve missed you terribly,” she confessed, looking up into his face, focusing on his mouth, badly wanting the kiss that his eyes were promising.
“I’ve been dying to see you, too, love,” he said, but he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he stepped back with a smile. “I have a private lunch arranged at the Westin,” he added, the heat flaring in his
eyes.
Nina paused, momentarily disconcerted by the cool welcome, and the way he stepped away from her touch.
“Lunch at a hotel? Why not the usual spot?”
“I wanted to be alone with you. We have a lot to…catch up on,” he said in a tone that told her conversation wasn’t all he was thinking about. “I reserved a suite and ordered us lunch there. Come with me, Nina. I’ve been hardly able to think straight for wanting to be alone with you,” he said, not bothering to disguise the desire in his voice.
Though something felt off, she smiled and fell into step beside him as they crossed the square. How could she resist his plea? Of course it made sense that he wanted them to be alone, not sitting in the middle of a crowded café full of power brokers.
“That was sweet of you, Peter, to book a room.” She looked down, taking a breath. “I wondered why you haven’t answered my e-mails, though, or my phone calls?”
He put his hand at the small of her back as they crossed the busy street heading toward the hotel. “I was just busy, darling. It’s been a madhouse without you, and it’s been hell trying to undo some of the damage at the paper,” he said absently, watching traffic.
“What about the damage to me?” she asked, moving away from his hand as they walked toward the hotel entrance.
He turned toward her, his gaze contrite. “I know, I know. It’s haunted me, not being able to be there for you. I hate the thought of you working at that…rag. Hate that you ever had to leave,” he said miserably enough to console her as they walked inside, but Kaelee’s voice asking her why he hadn’t stood by her buzzed around her mind like an annoying bug. She ignored it.
“I know. I hated it, too, every day. I thought I had lost everything, including you,” she replied. As the elevator doors closed, conversation was cut off as he pulled her up against him and covered her mouth in a scorching kiss.
Maybe it was the chill of the intervening months, or that so much still had to be said between them, but for some reason, Peter’s kiss wasn’t curling her toes like it used to do. She tried to relax and wrapped her arms around his neck, earning a groan of approval as he pushed her back against the wall of the elevator, the hard ridge under his slacks pressing into her belly.
Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume IV Page 11
