by Claire Marta
The freakish hyena like laughing of the other Jinn echoed around them. They weren’t far.
Glancing at Twitch’s still unconscious form, she abandoned her chewing. “We need to get our arses off the street before more come looking for us. Do you know anywhere we can hide?”
Eric wanted to feel Jasmine’s breath on him, feel her pulse against his lips, her blood in his veins. Yet again she seemed so small, so fragile. So human. Her sweet scent teased his senses. For a moment he closed his eyes and savoured it. His body was already reacting to her nearness. The pain of his cock straining against his zipper was barely tolerable.
How easy it would be to sweep her up and away from here. He wanted to fuck her again. Reacquaint himself with every hollow and crease of her luscious form as he took her mercilessly for her rejection back in Prague.
He wanted to touch her. To assure himself she was unhurt and in one piece. The faint odour of her blood filled his nose. She was bleeding slightly from cuts and nicks. It was nothing serious from what he could gauge. He tried to fight the desire she evoked inside him, but he already ached to be inside her.
The black leather of his skin tight attire was feeling too restrictive and the mask was now smothering. His fangs had descended slightly in his mouth. He could feel the tip of their points with his tongue. He knew he was close to losing his cold control. Breathing through his nose, he tried to relax. Focus.
He needed to push these feelings and urges aside. Digging deep, a spreading icy calm crept through him. The cold was welcome. The formidable control he was well known for slipped seamlessly into place. This cleared his head. Once more his logic reigned supreme.
Jasmine was right. They could not remain safely on the street. Battles were raging fiercely and out of control. They had to move from danger. Thunder rumbled forebodingly overhead. Rain was coming. He could feel it in the white misty air.
Dirt was smudged across Jasmine’s pale right cheek. Her short coppery red hair was sticking up chaotically in places. Clothes ripped. She was a mess. She wouldn’t look at him. Her gaze darted around landing on everything else. She looked spooked. No doubt a run in with real Jinn had left her shaken.
Eric’s gaze fell to the mage at her feet. Twitch had defended her well. For that he was grateful. Jasmine was staring up at him now. Her large, jade green eyes were wary and fearful. Yet she couldn’t quite hide the spark of lust. Nervously, she licked her lips. Narrowing his eyes, he watched the small movement.
Eric had never really wasted much time kissing with a woman. Yet, with Jasmine he could kiss her for hours. The sweetness of her mouth, her body was almost as addictive as her blood. It was then he realised she was waiting for a reply.
He nodded slowly. They would go somewhere safe. Somewhere he could leave her away from trouble. Eric knew he had to continue his pretence. There was still no clue to what they were truly dealing with, save the Jinn, and the red veiled witches. Whoever had orchestrated all this had just gotten started. They were yet to step into the limelight.
He was going to have to be patient.
The familiar imposing metal door of Carbrey’s house loomed before them. Kaysin was cradling Twitch in its strong arms. The mage had yet to stir. Jasmine was getting worried. Stopping every so often, she checked he was breathing and then fussed over him. She didn’t like that he was so unresponsive.
The Jinn seemed to take all of this in stride. It stopped when needed and stood patiently while she fussed, and this was making her nervous. A couple of times she had made eye contact with it. For some reason, it lacked the feral look the others had. The golden gaze that was frequently on Jasmine almost glimmered with human emotion. Why Kaysin seemed so different she couldn’t be sure. If the others were under some kind of enchantment, maybe it had escaped it.
Her body was still reacting to its closeness. Jasmine had to admit there was something mysterious and alluring about the creature. Her eyes wandered over its leather clad body. Why, if they didn’t have sexes, did they choose male forms when here? It was so...distracting. Delicious looking muscles were visible beneath the black covering. They bunched and coiled whenever it moved.
She could see almost every inch of its perfect body. Her gaze dropped to its taut muscled buttocks. Confusion swamped her when a frisson of desire zinged through her. Jasmine nibbled on her lower lip. That was something she could worry about later. They needed to get inside.
A large, fat, wet rain drop landed on her cheek. Turning her gaze upwards, she scrunched up her nose. The storm was starting. As she reached for the door, it abruptly swung open. Carbrey stood in the doorway.
He looked battered and bruised with a tired slump to his shoulders and his face seemed to have aged even more. Blood trickled from a cut above one eye. A smear of it was in his white hair. He was leaning heavily on his walking cane. Gaze moving between them, it settled on his Grandson.
“Morgan?” Reaching out a gnarled hand he touched Twitch’s limp shoulder.
“He’s just unconscious,” Jasmine assured him quickly. “But we need to get inside.”
“Come. Kaysin lay him on the couch in the living room.” The old man stepped aside. He seemed surprisingly agile.
The once neat and pristine corridor was a mess. Broken antiques lay strewn across the carpeted floor. Some of them had been crushed to fine powder under heavy feet. Little wooden tables lay toppled on their sides. What looked like black scorch marks marred the cream painted walls. Carbrey had obviously faced a battle. And won.
The rest of the house looked untouched.
In long confident steps, Kaysin carried Twitch towards a room. Trotting behind Carbrey, Jasmine found herself in a stylish and elegant living room. Everything was immaculate. Every item seemed to have its place from the small coffee tables to the rather severe looking portraits which hung on the walls.
Gently the Jinn laid the mage on a chic purple coloured sofa. The pillows were plush and velvety. Rain pelted against the window panes. It was not a gentle downpour. The glass was rattling. Jasmine’s gaze narrowed on the unexpected other person in the room. Twitch’s twin. Melinda.
“What are you doing here?” Jasmine asked suspiciously. After what Melinda had done to Twitch and her mother, Jasmine disliked her even more. The bitch seemed a little too cold hearted.
Peridot green eyes, so familiar to her friend’s, it was unsettling, narrowed slightly. “Not that it was any of your business, but I was visiting Grandfather.”
She was still dressed in her Victorian-like garb, tan bustled skirt, white shirt and heeled boots. Slowly, she sauntered closer. The short, stylish, cinnamon curls bounced gently around her lovely features as she moved.
“A rare occurrence indeed,” Carbrey murmured. He was hunched over Twitch, gently brushing the loose hair from the young man’s scarred face. “We should be safer here.”
Twitch groaned. Hand flopping up to his head, he swiped it uncoordinatedly across his closed eyes. “Shit, Jazzy. You really have to stop Gemma from giving me shots after vodka. I swear my head feels like it’s going to fucking explode,” he moaned in a low pained voice.
Jasmine leaned over him. He looked paler than usual and there were dark smudges of fatigue under his eyes. She released a gusty, relieved breath. “I hate to break this to you, but that’s not a hangover you’re experiencing.”
The mage cracked one eye open cautiously. He swivelled it around for a moment before the other one popped open. “This is bad. How the fuck are we not dead?”
“Some chick with dark red hair saved us. Then Kaysin turned up. You ok?” She asked, heaving him up into a sitting position. The mage's movements were slow and clumsy.
He nodded tiredly then clutched his head with a grimace. “This is really fucking bad.”
Lightening flashed, lighting up the window for a moment. Thunder boomed so loud above their heads it made Jasmine jump.
“You’ve already said that,” she told the mage, looking nervously toward the windows. The storm was howlin
g wildly outside. Kaysin had retreated to a corner. She could feel the intense force of its gold eyed gaze focused on her back. Jasmine tried to ignore it.
“It seemed worth repeating,” Twitch muttered, lowering his hands. “I just want to make sure we’re all on the same fucking page.”
Jasmine’s eyebrows rose up incredulously. “Page? I don’t think we’re even on the same book. What the fuck is going on?”
“The witches are somehow controlling the Jinn,” Carbrey told them grimly. He was pouring scotch from a crystal decanter into four glasses.
Melinda accepted hers without a word.
“Witches, which witches? What do you mean?” Twitch asked confused, lowering his feet to the floor with a clonk. Straightening up to his full height, he shoved some errant curls back.
“Exactly what I said,” his Grandfather informed him impatiently, placing one of the glasses into his hands. “They seem to be following the orders of the Coven of the Veiled Ones.”
“How many Jinn? Has this ever happened before?” Jasmine asked, declining the glass offered her with a wave of her hand.
The old man shook his head. “No. Never. There are only ever two hundred Jinn on the island at a time. The magic of this place has a fragile eco system. Too much raw power like theirs could rip the island apart. So a balance is maintained. They come and go from their own plane, but the barriers between our dimensions keep any more from entering.”
“Well, this is turning into a real crap fest,” Twitch announced darkly as he raised the glass to his lips. He glanced at Jasmine. “Shit, Jazzy are you ok? Fuck, your hands are all cut up.”
Abandoning his untouched scotch on a table, he grabbed hold of her elbows. Slowly, he raised her arms. Without protest, she let him turn over her hands. The blood had stopped oozing from the scattered wounds. Skin hung off from deep grazes on her palms. Jasmine winced as she curled her fingers inwards as they stung.
“I’m fine.” Shaking out of his hold, she delicately cupped his scarred cheeks. It hurt, but she ignored the pain. Concern was brightening his gaze as he stared down into her own. “I’m just glad you didn’t get yourself killed. Don’t ever scare me like that again, idiot.” Leaning up, she planted a swift kiss on his lips.
A goofy smile spread across his face. Taking her wrists, Twitch pulled her into a tight engulfing hug. He was very careful not to cause her pain. “I’m ok. I’m indestructible, remember?” He purred softly against her ear, the softness of his crazy hair tickling her face. “Does this mean we get to have sex now?”
Jasmine rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Don’t push it, doofus.”
“Maybe you can just flash me your tits then?” he persisted. “Let me have a feel.”
Pushing away from his chest, she shook her head with a smile. “No.”
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kaysin. A slight turn of its head seemed to give away it had heard their whispers. The shoulders which were already stiff tightened even more. Melinda was also watching. Narrow eyed, her lips were pressed together in a flat white line of disgust and disapproval.
Twitch smirked down at Jasmine teasingly. “At least you seem more like your old self.”
“We should put something on those cuts of yours,” Carbrey interrupted them. He had already emptied his glass of alcohol in one long swallow. “I have a medical kit in the library with the potions Glenna gives me for my arthritis. It won’t take a moment to get.”
Eric prowled after the old man as he left the room. He was still feeling restless after watching Jasmine kiss the mage. Rationally, he knew it had been a token of relief. They had lived through the attack. Jasmine was only expressing that. Yet there was a part of him which wished to go back in there and rearrange Twitch’s face with his fist. To pound those scarred youthful features until it was a broken bloodied mess.
Jealously. An emotion he did not relish. One he had never experienced until he had met Jasmine. He felt a territorial need to touch her. To be the one to comfort her. To connect. Eric’s fangs ached in their gums. The need for blood-lust stirred. It was a primitive urge. A need to prove to Jasmine that he was the stronger male. He was superior in every way. That he could protect her far better.
Their whispers had also not gone unheard. The boy was indeed looking to bed her. Had he tried already? Just picturing his hands on her delectable nubile body had Eric seeing red. Would she sigh softly as she had done for him? Would she welcome his touch? Spread her pale creamy thighs wide to receive him? Would she be satisfied with such a boy? Could he even bring her to the heights of pleasure that Eric had done so himself?
Grinding his teeth, he tried to calm his seething emotions. This did little to stop him imagining them together naked, entwined and sated. It was something that was never going to happen. He would see to that. Jasmine was his and his alone.
They had entered the library. Carbrey glanced toward the steady battering of the rain washed window. The darkness beyond was unsettling, but by the looks of it, the fog had finally dissipated.
“Do you have any idea what is going on?” Eric whispered. Now was the time to focus on work. This would clear his head and prevent him from doing something he might later regret.
“I believe this is the threat I have foreseen. The witches of the Veil have somehow discovered a means to control the Jinn,” the old man replied, voice low. He was riffling through an oak writing desk in an alcove. Papers lay scattered across its surface. A quill had been knocked over and the ink was spreading a thick black stain across a bundle of faded yellow letters.
Eric frowned behind the monstrous features of his mask. “I thought that was impossible.”
The sorcerer paused for a moment to glance distractedly towards the door way. “So did I.” He looked pale and uneasy.
The others still awaited them in the library. Eric could hear the beats of their hearts. He knew they had not moved.
“We need to learn what they hold over them then.” He continued decisively. The old man was fishing out a small white box from a drawer. Hands shaking, he clasped it to his chest. Then he turned to face the vampire.
“Do you love the girl?” Carbrey questioned. The expression on his face was taut, tense.
“Love?” Eric questioned, slightly taken aback. What in blazes had brought this on? They had no time for idle chatter.
“I am not blind, Eric. I have seen the way you watch her. Even a shrivelled old thing like me knows that look.” The old man muttered hurriedly.
“It is an emotion I do not have, like many others,” Eric responded, not sure where this line of questioning was taking them.
“Yet, you seem to be experiencing quite a few of them now, don’t you?” The sorcerer persisted. His gnarled fingers were stroking the smooth surface of the box he held.
Eric sighed with growing bemusement. “Lust and love. I am sure are very different things,” he replied, answering Carbrey’s question. “Although I am not sure both exist. Lust I understand, and this is what I feel for the female. Love is a dream, an illusion for those too deep in lust to realise any better.”
He wanted Jasmine. It was as simple as that. He needed her with a hunger that was totally unknown to him. For Jasmine he had already broken so many self-imposed rules. She drove him to distraction. She made him feel. Love was an emotion he had never known. This was something he was not sure even truly existed.
Love was a fairytale. A pretty word used by fools and romantics.
“I hope you don’t mind. I borrowed your fire poker,” Jasmine told Carbrey as he limped back into the room. There was a small box in one of his hands. His other was curled around the handle of his silver hound-headed cane.
Kaysin slipped silently back into the room. It’s soundless tread was seamless. It made Jasmine think of how an assassin or a ninja might move. Dressed all in black leather and masked, the Jinn could pass very well as one. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She had already witnessed how affective it could be.
“Wh
y on earth would you want that?” The old man asked, placing the box on a velvety sofa cushion.
“Unlike you guys I don’t have magic,” she pointed out, testing the weight of the metal rod in her throbbing hands. “I’m just a mere mortal who happens to like holding something solid when faced with life threatening danger.”
“You don’t have magic?” Melinda responded in a stunned tone somewhere behind her. “You brought a mortal to Avalon, brother? You went against our laws?”
Jasmine’s eyes met Twitch’s. His twin had been so quiet she had forgotten that the other woman was sitting there listening. Twitch shrugged carelessly. She guessed it wasn’t exactly important any more to keep it a secret. If they got in trouble it was probably better they knew she could not conjure anything up.
“Just shut the fuck up, Melinda,” the mage snapped. “I don’t think anyone cares right now.”
Throwing open the box, Carbrey riffled around inside it for a moment. With a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a white tube and held it aloft. Knowing this was for her, Jasmine dumped the poker on the sofa. She tried not to look guilty when the old man sighed resignedly. Fuck. She might have just offended the neat freak in him. Really, she had to stop doing stuff without thinking first.
His sea green eyes narrowed on the item. A dark ashy mark had been left against the upholstery. Carbrey did not comment. Jasmine did not miss the slight tightening of his lips. Spreading her damaged palms wide, she stood quietly as he smoothed on a white paste. A strange tingling spread into a cool numbness. The grazed skin flattened back into place.
Jasmine found her glance attracted to the Jinn. She couldn’t stop staring at its mouth. The urge to touch the sensual shape with her own lips slid through her. To learn the passion they promised. The thought made her warm all over. Heat burnt in her cheeks. What the hell was wrong with her? Distractedly, she dragged her attention away.
“The lack of feeling will last only a few moments,” the old man assured her as he finished tending her wounds. “The cuts will close much quicker and there is no risk of infection.”
