Thorin bristled.
“Didn’t think so. Care to make a wager? See who can make a deal with her first?” Adonis looked at his friend and smiled lecherously. “Perhaps we can talk her into wishing for a harem and we can all take turns fucking her till she can’t walk.”
The rage bloomed inside of Thorin.
The monster’s chains snapped.
Dae and Poe turned to him, sensing where this was going.
Like they could stop him.
Like anyone could.
He leaned over the table, grabbed Adonis by the collar of his shirt and hauled him right off his feet.
With a roar, he slammed the Northman djinn on the table, spilling beer and liquor everywhere. Glasses hit the floor and shattered and Queen Louisa cut the band short.
Fury pulsed in Thorin’s vision, tunneling it, zeroing in on his target.
He…couldn’t…think straight.
There was only the burn of violence in his veins.
Adonis laughed again. “There he is,” he said. “The berserker djinn we all love. Maybe I’ll steal your little mortal pet for myself. I’ll show her a good time.”
No.
No.
Lola might not be his. He might not have any claim to her at all. But he needed to protect her just the same.
Protect her at any cost from the supernatural world she’d stumbled into.
Dae and Poe were shouting at him, but Thorin couldn’t make out their words.
Didn’t matter.
Didn’t matter what anyone said.
Nothing. Could. Stop. Him.
He yanked Adonis off the table and threw him to the floor.
Heat soared through his veins.
Thorin climbed on top of Adonis and started throwing punches with both hands. But his assault did nothing. Adonis was djinn, after all.
“Go on,” Adonis coaxed when Thorin pulled back, breathing heavily. “Your futile punches are adorable.”
Thorin lurched to his feet.
He would show him.
He would show him just how monstrous he could be.
He grabbed Adonis’s left arm. He planted a boot on the djinn’s chest and then yanked with everything he had. All the rage. The anger. The fear. The desperation.
Bones snapped. Joints popped.
And Adonis roared.
“We need to get him out of here!” Poe yelled.
“No shit,” Dae said.
Thorin pressed down with his boot. Adonis’s ribs cracked. The air smelled of blood and victory and war.
The rage boiled inside of him. His teeth gnashed together.
No one would hurt Lola.
He needed to take care of the problem. Any means necessary.
Protect Lola.
“On the count of three,” Poe said.
“One,” Dae said.
“Two.”
“Three.”
His brothers linked their arms through his and hauled him back.
“I will murder you!” Adonis yelled.
“Go! Go!” Poe said.
Thorin roared, “Let me go!”
With a pop of air, Thorin’s sense of smell was overwhelmed by the scent of his brothers’ magic.
And in an instant, they were gone.
Chapter 12
THORIN
“Red!” Dae yelled. “Get the ginger!”
As soon as Thorin had his feet beneath him, he yanked out of his brothers’ grasp and shoved Dae, then Poe, with enough force to kill a mortal.
Dae flew into a table. It exploded like a bomb.
Poe sailed through the air, slammed to the floor, and slid another ten feet before coming to a stop in the middle of the foyer.
He needed to go.
He needed to do something.
The pulsing rage in his hands needed something to smash and maim and kill.
Go.
Save Lola.
Go.
Go.
Go.
Red came down the hallway from the library, a gun in his hands.
All of Thorin’s senses, though dulled because he wasn’t invoked, told him that Red was a threat, and the gun was even worse.
He smelled the sharp, spicy scent of ginger.
When had his family armed themselves with bullets?
And were the weapons solely for him?
Had they anticipated him losing control again?
He needed to stop Red before he pressed the trigger.
But without his magic, Thorin was slow. Too slow to dodge a bullet.
Red wrapped his hand around the gun’s slid and pulled it back, racking a bullet in the chamber. Likely the bullet was packed with ginger and etched with runes.
It was expressly against the rules decreed by the Djinn Conclave to use a runed blade or bullet against another djinn.
But Blackwells cared not for rules.
Not in their own house.
Red squared himself at the end of the hallway, brought the gun up and set the sights on Thorin.
Lola needed him.
He needed to save Lola.
Red pulled the trigger and a bullet shot from the barrel.
He’d failed Lola.
He never should have befriended her. If he’d left well enough alone, she’d be safe and he’d be…not filled with this all-consuming rage.
The bullet clipped him in the shoulder.
He stumbled back.
There was no pain at the entry wound. Only a dull, tingling ache that spread like honey through his veins.
His arms went numb first, then his legs. He fell to his knees and wavered unsteadily as his vision grew fuzzy.
“Sorry, brother,” Dae said as he dusted off shards of wood from his jacket. “You’ll thank us in the morning.”
“Lola,” Thorin muttered as the ginger and some other numbing medicine soared through his body. “Save Lola.”
He collapsed to the floor.
Red appeared above him, the gun still clutched in his hands. “Worse than a dragon,” he muttered.
Even through the rage and ginger haze, shame still beat through Thorin.
“Should I check on Lo?” Dae asked.
“No,” Red said. “A mortal is not worth the risk.”
Thorin wanted to shout at him.
Shout and roar and rage.
Lola St. James was worth the risk.
In all of his dark years Lola was the one bright light. No one made him feel more right.
He realized that now.
But he was powerless to save her.
And too broken to protect her.
Chapter 13
LOLA
Wanting some solitude and silence, Lola took the long way home and skirted around Café on the Rise and Halle Park. A misty rain started to fall halfway through her walk and the cool kiss of it helped ease the tension in her head.
Drama in her personal life was the last thing she needed right now. If Thorin and Rose had some kind of twisted relationship based on jealousy and lots and lots of history, Lola didn’t want any part of it.
She’d just keep her head down and focus on the things that mattered that she did have control over. Maybe she would even take Thorin’s warning seriously and put a little distance between her and Meg—Rose.
Except…
When she walked up to her building’s entrance, damp from the rain, but in a much better mood, she found Rose Northman waiting for her.
Rose lifted her arm to show the bottle of tequila she’d brought. “I upgraded. Thorin filled you in? I suppose?”
Lola came to a stop. She narrowed her eyes. “Is it true?” she said. “Your name isn’t even Meg?”
Rose cringed. “My family uses aliases often. It’s second nature.”
Okay, that did make sense.
“So you’re…djinn?”
Rose scrunched her nose. “Guilty.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“It’s not something I go broadcasting.”
Lola dug into her bag for her keys. “Did you purposefully befriend me because of Thorin?”
“No. I mean…well sorta. I heard you were spending a lot of time with him and…I know him, Lo. I know him very well. I was worried about you.”
Lola unlocked the door and pulled it open. It was after hours and Francis the doorman had long since gone home which meant she was alone with Meg—Rose.
But Lola didn’t feel like she was in danger when she was around the other woman. Not the way Thorin made it out to be. And she did want to hear Rose’s side of the story. Just so Lola had all the facts.
Hand on the door, she took a leap and said, “All right. You can come up if you promise to be straight with me.”
“Agreed. I’ll even do a pinkie promise if you want to get really serious about it.”
Lola snorted. “I’ll take your word for it.”
They rode the elevator up in silence.
Once inside her loft, Lola tossed her bag into the coat closet and went to the kitchen. She had been planning on making some homemade popcorn when she got home. Popcorn was the perfect snack for a brainstorming session.
“Are you hungry?” she asked Rose.
“Not when I have drinks to drink.” Rose set the tequila on the island. “What do you have for a mix?”
“Not much. I think I might have some Grand Marnier and maybe—”
“Do you have limes?”
“Sure.”
Lola grabbed the bottle of orange liqueur from the cabinet above her fridge and two limes from the bowl on her counter. “Feel free to help yourself. I don’t think I feel like drinking tonight.”
Rose canted her head and gave Lola a wide-eyed pout. “Please don’t make me drink alone.”
“I’ll have a San Pellegrino or something.”
“Boring. Besides, I make the best margaritas. Just one. It’ll be my apology drink.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please.”
Lola knew from past experience that Meg—Rose—rarely took no for an answer. It would be easier to say yes and then pretend to drink the drink.
“Okay, fine.”
“Fabulous.”
As Rose cleaned and cut the limes, Lola dug out her cocktail shaker and filled it with ice. Once she passed it off to Rose, she sat down on one of the bar stools and watched her friend work. Rose made the drinks with quick efficiency as if she’d spent years behind a bar doing it for a living.
Lola had never been much of a drinker. There was her mimosa phase at fifteen back when her friends were the kind of friends who drank mimosas at private country clubs even though they were underage.
Once her mom and dad separated, Lola’s mimosas turned to tap water that tasted like it’d been infused with rotten eggs. And when she finally moved out on her own, she became a health nut wanting only the best for her body.
When the drinks were finished, Rose slid one Lola’s way.
“Cheers,” Rose said and lifted her glass before taking a pull from the drink.
“Cheers.” Lola took a sip. Her eyes got big. “Oh wow. This is really good.”
Rose grinned. “Oh I know.”
Using the app on her phone that controlled the sound system, Lola turned on her favorite folk rock station. Twangy guitar music wended around the room.
“So…let’s just get right to it. I don’t like drama and I don’t like liars,” Lola said.
“I know.”
“So tell me the story. Tell me the history. Tell me why.”
Rose ducked her head and tucked a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. The lighting caught the diamond piercings in her lobe and the tiny diamonds in her nose and in her tragus.
When Lola first met Rose, she immediately saw in her someone she could get along with. Here was a woman who was confidently beautiful, but had also altered her body in such a way that was very much her. Rose had said she had quite a few tattoos, too, but Lola had yet to see them.
“Thorin and I…” Rose set her chin in her hand and glanced away. She got this far-off look in her eye. “We were together. But that was a long time ago. And our families were never supportive in the first place so whatever kind of relationship we had, it was fraught with the underlying tension between the Blackwells and the Northman.”
“Why weren’t your families supportive?”
“You’ve read Romeo and Juliet?” Rose asked.
Lola nodded. “Of course. ‘A plague on both your houses!’ I read it probably a half dozen times when I was a teenager.”
“The Northman and the Blackwells are like the Capulets and Montagues. We’ve been fighting so long that our reasons are vague now. Lately it’s been about power and territory, but from what I’ve heard, it started with a dispute over sheep.”
Lola tried to bite back her laughter and failed so it came out a half snort. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I have no proof, but aren’t most centuries-old feuds built on disputes about livestock?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Rose drained the rest of her glass. “Well as an immortal, I can tell you that I’ve granted many a wish about cattle and sheep and goats. So I think it must be true.”
Lola took another drink of her margarita. It was the perfect mix of sweet and tangy. And the tequila Rose had brought was smooth and rich. “So you and Thorin…did you break up because of the feud?”
“That’s part of the reason.”
“What’s the other part?”
“That’s a little more complicated.” Rose slid off the stool and started mixing another drink.
Lola wanted to know about the complicated part but was also still self-aware enough to know that wasn’t her business. She pivoted just slightly. “How long were you guys together?”
“Not long. A couple of years, maybe.”
“Not long?” Lola whistled, impressed. “That’s longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.”
“Clearly you aren’t picking the right men.”
A commercial break came onto the stereo system. Something about laundry detergent. Lola had ended her subscription to the premium music service last month. Every little bit helped over time. Or at least that’s what she told herself.
Truth was, she was more willing to part with her $10 music subscription than her $100-a-month Closet Curio membership. Lola liked her clothes maybe just a little bit too much.
Another reason why having a man all up in her business would seriously detract from her (fashion) freedom.
“What is the longest relationship you’ve had?” Rose asked as she added a splash of lime juice to the new drink.
“A year.”
“What was his name?”
“Bryce. For a hot second, I even loved the guy.”
Rose poured herself a fresh drink and then topped off Lola’s. “Your first mistake was dating a guy named Bryce.”
Lola burst out laughing. “I can’t argue with that.” She was starting to feel warm and buzzy and optimistic. Had her earlier irritation about all the things been petty and childish?
“I watched my mom date a bunch of jerks after my dad. And she was so desperate for them to like her that she would lose herself in them. Like she would adopt their habits, you know? And she would forget about her hobbies and instead do whatever they wanted. I remember she even started fly fishing once. Let me tell you, my mother is not a fly fisherman.
“And I swore I’d never do the same, but you know where I found myself?” She didn’t wait for Rose to guess. “At a beer pong tournament. I was standing there in a convention hall surrounded by drunk frat guys competing in what they deemed a ‘serious sport’ and I was just like, nooooo. I was my mom again. Desperate to have someone love me so I wouldn’t have to be alone and struggling to pay rent.” She shook her head. “I made the decision right then that to avoid making the same mistakes as my mom, I needed to avoid having any kind of relationship at all. Ever.”
Rose lifted her glass. “And how’s
that working out for you?”
“Fine. Great.”
Lola took a sip of her own drink. Whew. Rose poured a strong one.
“There is another option,” Rose said.
“Mmmm? What’s that?”
“Make a man lose himself in you.”
Lola snorted. “And how do I do that?”
Rose leaned her hip into the island and leveled a gaze at Lola, her expression suddenly serious. “We could make a deal. Find you someone worthwhile.”
Lola’s stomach flipped. Was that a warning flip? Or an excited one?
Tell me, oh wise stomach.
Lola was awfully curious, if she were being honest.
Ashley had made a deal and look how that turned out for her.
She was literally with her soul mate.
“What would I wish for? A find-a-perfect-man radar?” Lola tried to keep lightness to her tone. She didn’t want Rose to think she was seriously considering this.
Was she?
Maybe.
You definitely are.
Lola took another drink. Her head was lighter. The knot in her shoulders loosened.
Suddenly making a deal didn’t seem so ridiculous.
Whoever she made deals with was no concern of Thorin’s.
And maybe she could wish for more talent or a new spark of creativity. Because that was one thing she would contemplate selling her soul for.
Lola smacked her hands together.
Rose looked up, a little startled.
“Let’s do it,” Lola said.
“Make a deal?” Rose’s whole face lit up.
“Yup.” She slid off the stool. The world teeter-tottered.
God, she hadn’t drank that much.
But also, God she was drunk.
Probably because she hadn’t eaten yet today.
Rookie mistake!
But who the fuck cared?
Beauty of being an independent woman!
There was no room anymore for regrets or doubts.
It was time she did something selfish. She deserved three wishes, goddammit.
“Tell me how to do it,” she said. “The only thing I’ve been told is that you don’t rub a lamp. Do I rub my belly instead? Or wiggle my nose?”
Rose laughed and shook her arms out like she was getting ready to run a race. “No rubbing needed. Just repeat after me. ‘I, Lola St. James, wish to invoke the djinn known as Rose Northman and bind her to me for however long it takes her to fulfill the three wishes owed to me by Law of the Djinn.’”
One Mark: Steamy Friends to Lovers Paranormal Romance (Blackwell Djinn) Page 6
