Paranormally Yours: A Boxed Set

by Alisha Basso

  At the sound, stars spiraled in his eyes. Yes, Amaia. You’re almost there. Let yourself go. Come for me.

  It was too much, too fast. I tried to pull back, tried to find my center to delay or cushion the dangerous jinn-charged climax that threatened to fry me. But physical pressure built and built, hot and potent. Every thrust stretched me with pleasure. I clenched tight around him, small spasms growing bigger, harder. Concentration broke. “I’m…I’m…”

  He pressed his thumb against my bud. Rushed it with magic. Come now.

  I shrieked, and did as he commanded.

  Three.

  He flicked his thumb through my climax, augmenting each contraction with a push of energy. My orgasm rose, filling me from the inside out until I spilled over with pleasure, until the climax was so big it was joy.

  It ebbed, leaving golden sands of relaxation and lov…pleasure in its wake. As he withdrew from me, I opened my eyes. Galaxies whirled in his, stars going supernova.

  Whoa. He’d be bad-shit scary, if I weren’t incredibly sated. “My. Oh…my. I don’t think I can do any more.”

  Galaxies receded to a mortal sparkle. “Is that a challenge?”

  I blinked. “No—!”

  Too late. He pressed me into the bed with his big body, his erection throbbing against my thigh, and began an assault on my senses, a searing juxtaposition of opposites. His weight heavy on me, he lightly cupped my face to kiss me. His mouth was gentle, his tongue rough. He kissed tenderly down my throat and collar bone, then suckled my nipple, his hard, hot mouth tugging me into insanity. Yet the instant before I went mad, he pulled back to blow cool air over the puckered nub.

  Again I tried to control it. To rise above it, to make his caressing and kissing and licking purely an exercise in medicinal spell casting.

  But he was too big, too potent. Too masculine. He became my entire world on that bed. His silken skin was everywhere I touched. His male tang filled my nose. His muscles slid sleekly under my fingers. His mouth, working its magic, was the spice I tasted.

  When I was completely mindless with need, he entered me again.

  Inch-by-inch slow.

  I felt each inch as he went in, each ridge and vein as he stretched me, branded me with his flesh. I wiggled on his impaling cock, made hoarse, needy noises. He rolled out quickly and thrust again, slowly, throbbing with heat, each inch a fiery torment. Gasping, I looked into his face.

  His eyelids were closed, his lips slightly parted. His expression was turned inward, seeking the path to pleasure. Bliss lit his stern features, gave him an unearthly glow. And one thing more.

  Without those galaxy-strewn eyes on me, he almost looked human.

  Like a man I could love.

  But he wasn’t human. I was falling into the trap, falling for him… I held up my hand to focus on my taijitu, to reclaim myself.

  He threaded his fingers through mine and pressed my hands to the mattress. Concentration wavered. I tried to focus on my breathing instead, but he kissed me and suckled me until I was panting, then gasping.

  I closed my eyes and counted down, to descend to my calm center.

  He began thrusting, hard, deep.

  Concentration shattered. I cried out. He grew inside me, his erection potent with golden magic and male fire. He drove into me, stoking my pleasure until I was hot and full and moaning. Until my body was quaking with need. Until my heart was surrounded by birds winging with lace streamers, tying my happiness dangerously to him.

  He slowed. I shivered on the pinnacle of climax. He thrust one last time, so deep I gasped. His cock swelled huge and his face tightened in concentration.

  And then his eyes, those infinite eyes, opened onto mine. Brand new universes exploded in them.

  He climaxed, pumping burning hot pleasure into me.

  His orgasm triggered mine. I screamed, came harder than I’d ever come before. So hard my brain lit like the sun and my body rocked like the earth. I lost hold of sanity, of self, of anything except for the pleasure thundering in my heart and the intense release rasping in my lungs. Through it all he came, strong contractions that pushed me longer, farther.

  Eventually, contractions ebbed. He rolled slightly, drawing out the last sweet echoes. Sanity attempted to take hold of me but his lids closed again. With his black lashes sweeping over the thrust of his cheek, a smile ghosting over his hewn lips, his face was a thing of absolute beauty.

  My heart tottered at the precipice of complete surrender. I was falling…

  His smile bloomed full. Two.

  Enough. I didn’t even have the energy to say it aloud.

  He opened his eyes, bright black diamonds, glittering with determination. He was gorgeous and intelligent and doing everything he could to give me pleasure. One more.

  I was falling… One more orgasm. I felt unbalanced, out of focus, stripped helpless. I knew intuitively that one more orgasm, one more moment of complete bliss given by this incredibly powerful being, would tie me to him forever. Forever wasn’t so long in my case, but five months of yearning pathetically for a male I couldn’t have, my concentration broken and my magic dead… No matter how small the eternity, hell was still hell.

  I stared at him. Rafe. Please. I wasn’t sure what I was asking for.

  Amaia? His eyes gentled. Oh. I see.

  He began to withdraw.

  “W…what are you doing?”

  You’re afraid. That is not acceptable.

  “No, I’m not, I can’t be.” I was practical, I avoided conflict, things that didn’t sound so bad. Yes, I wasn’t a hero, not even brave.

  But was I really a coward? I was falling…

  Rafe, rather than blame me, was withdrawing. To soothe me, to comfort me.

  My angel.

  Cold fear clashed with the need to act, immobilizing me. I felt helpless. Stars above, I was helpless, yet he was withdrawing, surrendering to me. I didn’t know what to think, what to say, overwhelmed. He was not only putting me before his own needs—he was putting the fate of the world second to me.

  Bravery is doing the right thing despite being afraid. I tried, really I did. But what the epic stories don’t tell you is that you’re not only fighting your enemy. You’re fighting yourself.

  My self pointed out we had over an hour yet. That another solution might be found. That maybe Smith had come across a useful artifact or the Chief had changed his mind about the danger. That maybe what Rafe and I had already done was good enough, and we could clean up the rest on Monday.

  All the while I shivered high atop a cliff over the pits of hell, the hell of fear. My heart and soul bonded to a pitiless jinni he’s not pitiless but my feet were slipping on ice into a pit of isolation and loneliness colder than even the bleak winter after my parents died. I was falling in…

  I needed to make a decision, to stop Rafe or not.

  I decided wrong.

  Rafe withdrew and the spell remained incomplete. I was falling in love.

  And I bonded with him anyway.

  ** Rafe **

  Rafe gazed down at Amaia, small and still beneath him. Unable to speak. She was exhausted, and frightened, and it broke his heart. With a small mental suggestion from him she tumbled into a deep sleep.

  He lay down next to her and traced the line of her nose around the sweet curl of her nostril, just enjoying the wonder of physical touch.

  She shivered. Perhaps a reaction to his finger, but she might be cold. He flexed his mind and used a small speck of his life force to shimmer her under the comforter, not wanting to disturb her even to tuck her in. The life he burned was irreplaceable, unless another gave him theirs.

  He shrugged. Today, for Amaia, it was worth it.

  If she recovered quickly enough, they might have time to finish the Venus magic. If not…he consoled himself that at least it had helped, bringing Earth to the yellow, emotional level of health.

  It’s not enough.

  Rafe felt a sudden chill at the words. He tucked Amaia in before
rising to the astral plane.

  “Jibril. What do you mean, it’s not enough?”

  Hello, Rafe. How are you?

  Rafe wanted to shout, what do you mean it’s not enough again, wanted to lash out even thought he knew time was different for Jibril, wanted to punch something in his frustration, punch Jibril if he weren’t insubstantial… His impatience drained.

  Jibril hadn’t been making idle pleasantries. He’d been reminding Rafe that fear and anger, with enough power behind it, could kill. It had almost killed humanity during several wars including the Cold War, then again when they’d achieved global consciousness and panicked and Jibril had to step in.

  How much worse could a panicked jinni do?

  Rafe took a deep mental breath. Let it go slowly, also letting go of his anger and fear. “Thank you.”

  Don’t thank me. I only had to save them once. You have to keep them alive. I’ve saddled you with an impossible task, I’m afraid.

  “I won’t shirk my duty. I’ve vowed never to stop caring.” Rafe winced as he said that. Over the millennia, he had.

  Like his father.

  You stopped feeling, but you still cared. As did your father.

  Rafe flinched. Automatically his gaze flicked to the vibrant wash of color that was humanity. His attention fastened immediately on Amaia’s glowing thread. Just the sight of it, pulsing gently gold, relaxed him enough to say, “Maybe my father cared. But not enough to come back and help me make the transition to jinn. Despite his promise.”

  He meant to return, truly meant to keep his promise. But emotions are…changed by the ethereal.

  “You mean they’re lost. Feelings are immaterial on the astral plane.” Emotions were lost to the jinn, as Rafe knew from experience. “Like father, like son,” he said bitterly.

  Really? What was that desire to lash out a moment ago, if not feeling?

  Rafe heated with embarrassment. “I wouldn’t have punched you.”

  Jibril snorted. I’d have liked to see you try. He paused. Look at your Amaia and tell me you do not feel.

  Rafe’s eyes turned automatically at the command. His gaze caressed her pulsing gold. When he looked at her…oh yes, he felt. He felt the desire of hot satin sheets and long star-filled nights, magnified a thousand times by the physical reality of having had sex with her. And this gut-wrenching need was merely one of an infinity of feelings she evoked in him. The desire to possess, the desire to protect. Joy and pain. With Amaia, he seemed to do nothing but feel.

  How odd. Didn’t you just say feelings are immaterial on the astral plane?

  “It’s not funny.”

  It is funny. Laugh, Rafe. The emotions are good for you. She is good for you. She helps you protect humankind.

  “I could protect them just fine before.” As a follower of Jibril, Rafe had been committed to protecting humanity as the right thing to do. He’d done a good job, just fine.

  But with Amaia…he realized what Jibril was saying, and damn it, the old shyster was right again. With Amaia, the need to protect had become more than intellectual.

  Now it is something you believe in your heart.

  “Fine. You’re right, as usual.” Rafe considered her bright pure thread. It was just beginning to pale from the cancer. She’d done so much for him, just by existing—what would he do once she was gone? “I’d give my life to heal her.”

  You know you can’t. For every action there is a consequence; that’s what karmic physics is all about.

  “Like Newton, yes. But unless the cost is the destruction of the world—”

  It’s more personal, Rafe. Healing her would pull her from the brink of ascension. She would not become jinn, even if she had the time.

  Giving her life would keep her from Life. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. It made his heart leaden to know he couldn’t heal her. “Sometimes karmic physics is shit.”

  Yes. Another orgasm wouldn’t have really killed her, you know.

  “It would have caused her disastrous emotional pain. And worldwide emotional health seemed good enough. Which returns me to my question, Jibril. Why isn’t it?”

  Because you have a very determined enemy. One that will exploit any chink in your defense. Like a human body and a virus, health is not enough if the skin is broken. At the green level, the world would have been cohesive enough to resist. But now…ah well. You love her.

  “I do. You’re made me realize it.”

  It is very un-jinn.

  “I don’t care.” She was the first time in eons that anything had truly mattered to him. “Am I becoming human?”

  You’re talking to the wrong jinni. I cared about humanity, and look what happened to me.

  Jibril had ascended to beyond jinn. Rafe sighed. “I don’t think that’ll be my fate. I’m not nearly as…saintly.”

  Jibril laughed. Nobody is, not even the saints.

  Rafe gazed at the globe and tried to picture a tapestry, tried to see humanity…no, to see humans as Amaia did.

  For the first time, individual threads glimmered into focus. Unique threads, not merely a general global color. He blinked with amazement.

  He was seeing unique lives.

  Then he realized which threads were being snuffed—and they weren’t just random souls.

  The threads cut were small but important anchors. He sucked in a shocked, angry breath.

  Severing anchors set large swatches of humanity adrift. Around the holes, frayed strands wicked up gray, oily terror, which spread its poison into the entire weave. Lives weakened, snapped, leaving more holes, kindling more fear.

  All of humanity was dangerously close to breaking.

  “He’s killing wizards,” Rafe said. “Damn it. If only I’d appeared in physical form to her sooner, if we’d had more time—”

  But you didn’t. Rafe, think. This isn’t the product of a mere wizard, or even a group. There’s only one human magic stronger than Venus. The wizards are dying, yes. But they’re not being killed. Not if it’s liberating that kind of power.

  Self-sacrifice? Rafe was too shocked for speech. “Are they being brainwashed?”

  You know how it’s done. A target is chosen. Through guile or mesmerism the target is convinced he is doing a good deed. The death is self-sacrifice, the life magic given freely.

  “That’s…monstrous.”

  It is. It’s also how jinn have done it for eons.

  “Is the enemy a jinni then?” Rafe whispered.

  That, I cannot say. What I can say is, not much can counter the immense karmic energies released by a human’s self-sacrifice. You know what you must do?

  “Yes.” Rafe needed power, lots of power. Enough to repair a universe torn open to the nightmare gods by multiple human self-sacrifices. There was unfortunately only one thing he could tap that would have that kind of impact.

  His own life.

  Jibril had suggested that it might come to this. Either omniscience had a way to read the future or perhaps where Jibril was, all futures existed simultaneously in the palm of his hand.

  Food for thought, later.

  Except there would be no later. After thousands of years of life, that was too strange to comprehend.

  “Well. I don’t have much time. I guess I’ll say goodbye.”

  I wish I could help. I won’t say goodbye, Rafe. But I will say good luck.

  “Thank you, Jibril.”

  Rafe returned to the physical realm and gave Amaia a final kiss.

  Then he straightened and resolutely left the meditation room, heading to the roof of the Center. He was about to sacrifice his life. He might have done it for humanity’s sake, or he might not.

  But for her? It was a small enough price to pay.

  * * *

  Rafe’s kiss woke me. Blinking, I lay under the daybed’s covers (under them? How did I get…oh, hell, what were self-activated covers in a world gone berserk?) to get my bearings.

  Sore body parts. Not the usual lungs and head. Oh yes, I’d
just had four cataclysmic orgasms with a jinni.

  I stretched, yawned. It felt like I’d had a nice nap. The whole bonding thing wasn’t nearly as devastating as I’d feared. In fact, it was rather energizing. I rose and started to dress, mind flitting, thinking about Rafe, about orgasms, wondering how much good they’d done, wondering what to do next. Maybe check with Smith for an empowered talisman. Or see if Francie had gotten some “action” with Dennis and they’d managed to pump some Venus magic into the mix. Maybe they’d made enough positive energy to finish what Rafe and I had started.

  If not, I could suck it up and we could get that final orgasm in. I might even manage to relax this time.

  Except Rafe was gone. My flitting thoughts abruptly settled. Why had Rafe gone?

  In my pants pocket, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out, checked the display. One new text message had arrived while I’d been busy with Rafe.

  Automatically, I thumbed up the text. It was from Mervyn. He’d tried to call but I hadn’t answered. He wanted to let me know he’d gotten my message and was on his way to the Center.

  I frowned. What message? I hadn’t sent him any message. Maybe he was confused, although with a tired wife and sick kid it would take a lot to get him to come back to work.

  The timestamp on Mervyn’s text was ten forty-five, or a little over fifteen minutes ago. Just about the time Rafe and I started on that last orgasm… Well, Mervyn was either on his way here, or was here already. I could ask him myself. Actually, this was a good thing. I wasn’t sure what to do next, about the enemy or about Rafe.

  I headed for Mervyn’s cube. As I entered the elevator and pressed three, I was looking forward to talking to my friend.

  But when I got there, the cube was empty. Phooey. Well, if I couldn’t talk to him, I needed to go to my cubicle and update my spreadsheet. See if Rafe and I had made progress toward stopping the Mayan Doom.