The Angel: Tales of the Djinn, #3

by Emma Holly

  He flipped to the classifieds. Though he ran his finger down every listing, he didn’t find what he was looking for. Maybe he shouldn’t, though. If the others had only just arrived, they wouldn’t have had any more chance than him to purchase a coded ad. Tomorrow he’d check again. And he’d read the back copies Tobias spoke of earlier.

  Footsteps on the stairs alerted him his hostess was returning. She entered the living area with a large black tomcat draped over one shoulder.

  “Look who I found downstairs,” she announced. “Black Cat’s most important employee!” Without otherwise budging from its perch, the cat swiveled its head back to view Iksander. Its eyes were yellow and unblinking. “This is Titus Andronicus. He’s as ferocious as his namesake and keeps the mice away.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Iksander said, in case the creature was sentient.

  The cat buried its face in Georgie’s neck.

  “Aw,” she said, nuzzling it in return. “I guess you did miss me.” She set it down and gave it a gentle nudge. “Be nice and say ‘hello.’”

  Titus stared up at her a second before trotting to Iksander. The beast leaped into his lap without hesitation, apparently as accepting as the rest of its family.

  “Well,” Iksander said, obeying its silent demand to scritch it beneath the chin. He supposed he did it correctly. Titus began purring. When he examined its aura, he confirmed the cat was an animal and not a djinni in disguise. He didn’t know if he were relieved or disappointed.

  Another of his kind could have been friend or foe.

  “You’re not allergic, I hope,” Georgie said from her small kitchen area. She was occupied with unpacking a plastic bag. “If he gets too pesty, just shove him off.”

  Iksander assured her he didn’t mind.

  Her smile of approval was too warming. Aware he was about to grow hard again, he searched for a distraction. He noted her backpack on the table.

  “I forgot to open the wine,” he said, setting Titus aside so he could get up.

  She opened a drawer and handed him a corkscrew. He took it with the odd sensation that falling into a rhythm with her would be easy.

  “I scored enough supplies downstairs to toss a salad. Plus Jerry had a Green & Black’s bar stashed at his workstation. I don’t know about you, but I have a chocolate tooth.”

  “Jerry won’t be angry that you . . . appropriated his sweet?”

  “Jerry’s my bud.” She laughed. “Tobias was afraid I’d put someone’s eye out when I first started pitching in. Jerry had to teach me to use a nail gun and a sawzall. Now he calls me the Princess of Catlandia. He’ll forgive me as long as I replace it.”

  Najat had been a princess too. Just not of a junk shop.

  Georgie felt secure in her world, he saw. Her sense of safety made her comfortable with strangers.

  “Glasses are there,” she said, nodding toward a cabinet before he could ask what he should pour the wine in.

  When they sat together at her small table, the atmosphere was disconcertingly homey.

  The wine she’d bought was white and childishly sweet, the salad made from the same tasteless lettuce that had graced his lunch sandwich. Not much could be said for it except that it was edible. The pizza was a different matter. Its bread was crusty and delicious, its meat savory and rich. Iksander sensed more than its ingredients explained this.

  It had been energized.

  Djinn were sensitive to the difference between food made with caring and food that was simply made. Georgie had infused good will into this sustenance. She wanted him to enjoy it.

  “You painted the sign,” he said.

  Her expressive red brows went up.

  “The one that hangs above the store’s entrance, with the picture of Titus.”

  “Oh,” she said and laughed. “Yes, I did paint that. How did you guess?”

  He’d guessed because it radiated her vibe as well. This human had a knack for magic—without even knowing it. Did that make his situation more dangerous or more interesting? Actually, being interested might be a danger too.

  “Your fondness for the cat led to my conclusion,” he dissembled.

  “Ah.” She handed him a paper napkin. “You have pizza sauce on your chin.”

  Embarrassed, he wiped it off. Najat would have said something teasing. The kadin of the Glorious City had liked to flirt. Georgie simply watched the motion of his hand while fingering the delicate golden cross she wore around her neck. Again, he noticed her collarbones. The skin that covered them appeared soft. Georgie seemed not to realize she was staring until their gazes caught.

  Then she blushed and looked down at her dinner plate.

  Such heat crashed over him he immediately longed to unzip his loaned hoodie. Because doing so would have betrayed too much, he gritted his teeth and crumpled the napkin.

  After that, he did his best to eat neatly. The awkward moment seemed to have rendered the human shy. Quiet now, Iksander tried not to stare at her, but she was so like his wife it was difficult not to. Georgie’s appeal confused him and made him feel guilty. He jerked as a possibility struck him. Was Georgie the reason he’d rerouted to Virginia? Because he’d been thinking of Najat when the portal pulled him in? Had he unwittingly skewed the spell to deliver him to his wife’s twin?

  “Last slice?” she offered, nudging the serving plate in his direction.

  He shook his head, preoccupied by his thoughts. “Thank you. My hunger is satisfied.”

  That was only true in a single sense. Perhaps Georgie thought so too. She cleared her throat and hopped up. “I’ll just clear this away then. Titus loves pepperoni.”

  Her table was in the crude kitchen area, a single stride from the sink. Iksander braced himself to face her rear view again. He had to get used to this. Georgie’s garments covered considerably more than the bikinis on CSI: Miami. As to that, he’d seen his wife in nothing at all, too many times to count.

  This was maybe not the most helpful thought to have.

  Georgie set the plate with the leftover pizza slice on the floor. The movement of her body within her otherwise modest clothes fascinated him. Before the plate was even down, the cat raced to her and pounced—as if the treat were prey that might escape. Clearly delighted with the windfall, Titus growled and purred as he tore into it. Georgie snorted with amusement, crouching to pet his furry spine.

  “Little pig,” she scolded lovingly. “You’d think Francine was starving you.”

  When she looked up at Iksander, laughter gleamed in her lavender eyes.

  Oh God, was all he could think. She was so beautiful.

  The response that hit him was too powerful to conceal, causing his breath to catch halfway into his lungs. With or without the gasp, Georgie couldn’t miss the stripped-bare intensity of his attraction.

  This time she didn’t let shyness inhibit her.

  “Help me up?” she asked, extending her hand to him.

  The question was tentative, but the feminine consciousness in her eyes said she meant him to do more than help her up. He felt like he was enchanted. In spite of everything that told him not to, he gripped her palm and supported her straightening. She stood before him then, between his knees looking down, her shining hair curtaining her face. Without realizing it, he’d turned toward her on the dining chair. Both her hands rested within his. Heat rolled over him in waves.

  His cock was so hard it ached.

  Though he meant to pull away, somehow his hands slid farther along her forearms to her elbows. She’d pushed up her stretchy red shirtsleeves. Her skin was bare against his fingers, every bit as smooth as he’d imagined.

  She shivered slightly as he stroked it. “Wow,” she said, the expression in her eyes wondering. “You are the sparkiest person I’ve ever met.”

  He came to his feet, taller than her now—something his male instincts reveled in. Her hands fell to his hips, and his penis leaped. He hadn’t imagined his new body’s heightened sensitivity. It truly was extra respons
ive. Her thumbs stroked his hipbones so gently the tingle she inspired was stronger than the pressure.

  I shouldn’t do this, he thought. I should stop before this goes too far.

  Her face lifted, her lips parting.

  “I wish you’d kiss me,” she said.

  His respiration went into overdrive. He’d seen so much icy terror today, so much tragedy and sorrow. Didn’t he need a fire to warm him? Didn’t he deserve it?

  He bent his head as her soft hands slid up his pounding chest. Lord, he wanted her hands on his bare skin. Their lips met, their harried breath intermingling. Georgie touched his tongue with the tip of hers.

  The encouragement was too much. He groaned, crushing her against him and kissing her deeply. His hands slid to her bottom to squeeze her through the jeans. He wasn’t alone in his fervor. Georgie clung to him uninhibitedly.

  “My God,” she breathed when he wrenched his mouth away for air. “Kissing you is incredible.”

  She seemed surprised. Didn’t human men know how to please their partners? That thought made his blood run hotter . . . too hot to tolerate. He unzipped the hoodie and tore it off.

  “Yes,” Georgie praised, fingers racing down his flannel shirt’s buttons.

  He caught her mouth again and she groaned, the sound pure hunger—an aphrodisiac for his ears. His shirt came free, and she stroked his bare chest all over. She seemed to like the muscles of his stomach especially.

  He cursed at how good her caresses felt.

  “Yours,” he said, reaching for the hem of her stretchy top.

  Her arms got in his way before he could remove it.

  She grinned and peeled it off herself.

  Her sunset-colored hair looked amazing tousled. It could, however, only hold his gaze a moment. Her plain white bra magnetized him: the way it cupped and lifted her bosom. The construction of the undergarment was unfamiliar, the rounded breasts within it too alluring to resist caressing. He circled her areola through the material with this thumbs. Though her nipples had already beaded, they lengthened at this treatment.

  Iksander’s body tightened all over.

  He wasn’t the only one getting overwrought. Georgie’s little cross flashed with the in and out of her lungs, the pendant jostled on creamy slopes. Because it seemed the only action a red-blooded male could take, Iksander hiked her up by the butt, set her onto the eating table, and laid her back on it.

  For a moment, they paused with him above her.

  Her eyes were wide, her lips alluringly red and puffed. She definitely wasn’t fearful. She wriggled one arm behind herself and undid her brassiere. His front flashed hot as she let it fall away.

  “Kiss me here,” she urged breathlessly, her fingers just touching one nipple.

  They both went a little crazy as he obliged. Then again, perhaps they were lost to sanity already. Iksander sucked her smooth hot nipple into his mouth, pulling and laving it greedily. Her taste intensified his hunger, pangs of lust expanding in his chest. Georgie thrashed on the table as if he did more than kiss her breast.

  Even as she moaned with pleasure, she used both hands to free his jeans fastenings.

  The frantic tug of her fingers excited him. Somewhat to his shame, he’d taken women during his estrangement from his wife, but only in his smoke form. Shame didn’t stop him from helping Georgie drag down his zipper. He was crazed for her touch, especially on his cock.

  With a crooning sound, she thrust her hand down into the opening.

  His brain went white. Her hot human palm curled around his solid erection, his nerves jumping so strongly he feared he’d come. Trying to distract himself by kissing her other breast did no good. She was stroking his length now, squeezing him, making little mewling noises as if the simple feel of him aroused her.

  The sensation of warmth and wetness grew at his tip.

  “I can’t last if you keep that up,” he warned raggedly.

  “Good,” she said, defiance in the word. “I want you to lose control.”

  Her fist rode his hardness faster. Her technique was rough but perfect for him right then: no gentleness required in his current state. He wanted every thought obliterated by his need for release, to have as much pain as pleasure in his climax. Nearly overcome, he hid his face in her neck, his right hand covering and squeezing the breast he’d kissed.

  Georgie squirmed and pumped the flesh she gripped.

  He growled out a name for the deity. His testicles were hiking higher, the pressure in his groin building. “Don’t you . . . want to . . .”

  “You,” she insisted, her voice ripped by excitement. “Shoot on me, Alexander. Come hot all over me.”

  He cried out, hips shoving recklessly into the firm rubbing she gave him. He slid his hands to her belly, caressing the flesh where his seed would go.

  “Yes,” she said. She hitched slender legs around him, her calves pulling him closer. The denim each of them wore hissed with their rough movements.

  Why did it drive him mad that they both wore trousers?

  He’d always had a twisted side when it came to sex, things he craved that he felt ashamed of. Now it didn’t seem to matter.

  “Tight,” he gasped. “Hold my phallus tight.”

  She shuddered as she complied. His mouth opened on her shoulder, his breath huffing from him like one of her realm’s steam trains. As if she knew the perfect moment, the edge of her thumbnail just barely dug into him.

  She’d hit a nerve both literal and mental. Pain spiked deliciously in his cock. He went like Armageddon, the explosion of sharp-edged pleasure bursting from him in fiery jets. Every muscle clenched, forcing out the release harder. He shoved himself against her belly, pouring ejaculate. His thumb and fingers pinched her furled nipple, which arched her spine off the table.

  She was climaxing too.

  The groan of ecstasy that tore from him burned his throat.

  A cramp gripped his nape, warning him to ease up. Apparently, he’d tensed so hard he gave himself a neck kink. He pushed up slowly, balanced now on his arms. Framed by their cage, Georgie blinked rapidly. Her perspiring cheeks were so brightly flushed they seemed in danger of catching fire.

  “You made me come,” she said, her wonder at this adorable. “I didn’t think that was possible without—”

  “Shh.” Laying one finger across her lips, he surprised himself by smiling. “I’m sure I can do better if I’m actually meaning to pleasure you.”

  UNDERSTANDABLY, ALEXANDER didn’t think he needed permission to continue. He bent again and kissed her, his hand sliding down the front of her panties. Georgie gasped as two fingers found her clitoris unerringly. They rubbed and pushed the little rod with a pressure that made her squirm. She couldn’t deny she’d like to get off again. The first surprise orgasm had left her aching for another.

  I could let him go on a little longer, she reasoned, writhing deliciously at his excellent aim. Just until we’re even.

  His teeth nipped her earlobe, sparking unexpectedly pleasurable sensations.

  Experience made a difference. Alexander was noticeably better at this than the college boys she’d dated. He pushed his other hand beneath her wriggling spine. Fingers spread, he stroked the skin at the top of her buttocks where her jeans waistband had slipped down. The effect was simultaneously soothing and arousing.

  When he tugged the jeans to her hips that seemed permissible too. The restriction of the garment prevented her legs from parting all the way—perfectly safe, she decided.

  Or maybe not. He stroked her thigh through the denim, up and down, up and down, squeezing her knee with such skill she realized it, too, must be an erogenous zone. Some big nerve fired along the inside of her left leg, making muscles jump and causing her to suddenly soak the fingers that massaged her.

  She had enough self-consciousness to be embarrassed. Alexander, by contrast, was delighted.

  “That’s a girl,” he growled. “Get nice and wet for me. I’ve got a lot for you to fit.”


  When his pelvis lowered, she understood rather graphically what he meant. He was hard again. His cock was thick, its crown round and full like it had been for her hand job. He was ready to take her, no more recovery time required. In her head, she could almost feel him penetrating her—regardless that she’d never had intercourse before. She wanted to do it with him, her desire so intense it seemed foreign.

  “Wait,” she gasped as he moved both hands to edge down her panties.

  He looked at her. Georgie blushed hotly.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  He cocked his head to the side. “You can’t?”

  “Well, I could, obviously, but—um—I don’t believe in sex before marriage. For me, I mean,” she added. She told herself she didn’t need to be defensive. “Other folks can do what they want. This is a personal choice.”

  His brow furrowed. He seemed perplexed but not angry. “What we did already doesn’t qualify as sex?”

  “That was . . . fooling around.” She bit her lip. Gosh, this was uncomfortable. “Do you think you could back up now? You’re making it hard to think.”

  He backed up and straightened. She couldn’t help getting an eyeful of his erection as he tucked it back in his underwear. Okay, maybe she could have helped it. She was just too fascinated to look away. Alexander seemed . . . prettier than other men she’d caught glimpses of. His penis was straight and flushed, its veins almost decorative. He definitely wasn’t small.

  The care it took to get that swollen flesh safely stowed was making her shiver.

  He didn’t zip up. Probably he had to relax more before he could. He scratched the back of his scalp as if it were itching.

  “Thank you for being a good sport,” she said, trying to break the awkwardness.

  He coughed with wry amusement. “A good sport.”

  “If it makes you feel better, you’re the first guy I wanted to break my rule for.”

  The gleam that came into his eyes made her feel feverish. “I wouldn’t say ‘better’ is how I feel.”