The Angel: Tales of the Djinn, #3

by Emma Holly

  “Connor?” she asked, rubbing her cheek on his pectoral.

  “Yes?” he answered sleepily.

  He sounded so relaxed she almost didn’t continue. A moment later, she decided she couldn’t stand not knowing how he’d react.

  “It might be too soon to tell you this, but at some point you’d probably want to know. I have imaginary friends.”

  She’d braced herself for amusement but not for what he said.

  “No, you don’t,” he responded with perfect calm.

  Georgie pushed up on her elbow. “What do you mean, no, I don’t?”

  “I mean your friends are real.”

  “Did you not understand what I said?”

  He opened his eyes and sat up too. His faint smile made him very handsome, but it was also annoying. “Why don’t I demonstrate how well I understand?”

  Georgie had an old apple-picking ladder she used for hanging rescued treasures higher up on her walls. Connor moved it to the door and climbed the first few rungs. From there, he laid his palm on the area above the frame.

  “Show yourself,” he said quietly.

  As he removed his hand, a symbol drawn in light sprang to life. Three fishlike shapes formed a triquetra, an ancient and powerful protective symbol. This particular example interlocked within a circle.

  Stunned to see the symbol glowing so radiantly, Georgie got up and crossed the long room to him.

  “Do you remember when you put this here?” he asked.

  “Years ago,” she said wonderingly. “I’d just started reading about supernatural stuff and was a little spooked. I painted it with rose oil and salt. I forgot all about it when the salt flaked off.”

  “I kept it charged for you. I thought an extra ward was a good idea.”

  “What are you talking about? How could you have charged it?”

  Connor stepped back down the ladder. “You know the answer. You only have to think a bit harder.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head firmly.

  What she was thinking was crazy.

  Maybe she was dazed, or perhaps she just trusted him that much. She didn’t resist when he lifted her left wrist. He ran his warm, smooth palm up her colorful tattooed sleeve. The pattern was a tropical rainforest with little animals peeking out—monkeys and jaguars and a gorgeous rainbow macaw.

  “You got this at Dave’s Bikes & Tats,” Connor said. “You drew the design yourself. It took ten sessions for Dave to finish it. You asked me to stay with you and sit on your shoulder. You said I’d help you not be a crybaby.”

  “No-o. You can’t be that Connor.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “But you don’t even sound like him. And you’re . . .” At a loss for words, she waved her hand at his very real, very hot physique.

  “I am the same as always. Just wearing a new outfit.”

  “You’re different,” she insisted. “I know you are. He didn’t think like you think. He didn’t want what you want.”

  “He . . . I loved you.”

  “Not like this!”

  Her sureness took him aback. “All right, perhaps I have gone through a few changes. Having a body alters things. And a material brain, I suppose. My spirit, however, is as it ever was.”

  Georgie pulled her wrist from his hold so she could cross her arms.

  “You’re angry with me,” he said, sounding surprised by that as well.

  “Where did you get that body?” she demanded.

  He looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t steal it from a human, if that’s what worries you. It was made magically.”

  “By whom?”

  “That’s not my secret to tell.”

  “I’ll ask Ishmael.”

  “I’m afraid the library imp isn’t free to enlighten you either.”

  Georgie’s brows lowered. “That’s convenient.”

  “I’m not lying. I simply can’t answer the question.” He cupped her cheek but she twitched away. “I wanted you to know I was real. This was the means I chose.”

  “This could still be—”

  “No,” he cut her off. “It couldn’t. A houseful of people saw me. I danced with you in front of them. I took their pictures. I drove a pick-up with you in it.”

  “Why this body?”

  He glanced down his ripped physique. “You don’t like it? I think it’s very nice.”

  That sounded like the marsh light she remembered. “It’s the spitting image of one I saw in a book, from a photo I admired once.”

  “Ah,” he said as if this cleared up a mystery. “The . . . person who magicked up the body tore out the page you liked to serve as their prototype.”

  “And you’re not going to reveal their identity.”

  “I’m sorry but I can’t.”

  That was not a satisfying answer. “You did all of this for me.”

  A very male, very human smile curved his mouth upwards. “You’re worth it, Georgie. More than I realized.”

  She blushed. He was talking about the sex. It had been good, it was true. Various parts of her still hummed. “You could have warned me!”

  “I considered doing that, but seeing your reaction now, I believe I chose wisely. You treated me like an equal, like a sexy male you desired. That’s exactly what I wished to be.”

  “You tricked me,” she huffed. “Plus, it was your first time too!”

  He took her wrists, gently but firmly catching them. “I’m not tricking you now, Georgie.”

  He pulled her to him. He kept her arms behind her, which caused her pulse to skip. She’d half forgotten she was naked, but his action reminded her. Why did he have to be so freaking tall? So muscular and substantial? Most of all, why did his cock have to elongate and thicken right against her?

  “If you turn caveman, I won’t like you at all,” she warned.

  He smiled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’d never turn caveman. I’m too fond of evolving.”

  He kissed her until she lost her breath, her wrists trapped in his strong hand, her body pliant and melting into his. She truly could not resist him. In no time at all, she was kissing him desperately. Everything about him fit her too well. She seemed to fit him too. He groaned and rubbed up against her, his pulse accelerating as crazily as hers.

  At last, his soft mouth tore free. Only then did he release her arms. Rather than use her hands to push him away, she immediately ran them up his biceps. His eyes seemed to catch more moonlight. Evidently, her most basic touch aroused him.

  “I’ve seen people have intercourse standing up,” he panted. “Would you like to try that with me?”

  His words instantly drenched her with excitement—and she hadn’t been the Sahara to begin with. Shouldn’t one of them be thinking twice about running full speed into this weird-ass relationship? Then again, what was any human but a material body with the light of a soul inside? She might not attend church these days, but she still believed that.

  “You’re not worn out from before?” she asked.

  He growled and rocked his hard cock against her. “Do I feel worn out to you?”

  He didn’t even a little. “I guess . . . standing up sounds good,” she admitted.

  He laughed and hefted her upward by the butt. “As I understand it, I’m supposed to brace you against the wall.”

  She gasped as he put his understanding into action. Her legs went around his waist automatically. When he thumped her back against the solid surface, his cock slid as if by magic into her wet pussy.

  Her wetness was fortunate. He had quite a lot to cram inside her.

  The feel of him once he’d managed was delicious.

  “Gosh,” she said, her nails digging into his shoulders.

  He rolled them as if savoring her biting grip on those big muscles. “I’m glad you like sex. This body has a large appetite. Ever since I claimed it, it’s been longing to take you.”

  Oh boy, she thought as he pulled back and surged in again. Her liking sex might hav
e been an understatement. Her pussy ached for more and more of it. Luckily, Connor’s grip on her was secure. She thrust back to him more smoothly than she had in the bed.

  Connor let out a moan of pleasure that stood her hair on end.

  This time he took her a little less headlong. He seemed to be learning to rein in his body’s reactions. He sort of reined them in anyway. The moment he felt her begin to come he made a noise like he’d totally lost it and started pumping double time.

  The extra vigor of his movements heightened and drew out her orgasm. Loving that, she dug her heels into his tight rear and groaned. His head fell to her shoulder, his fingers clamped on her hips as he worked her weight hard and fast on him.

  “Yes,” he said, shuddering with need. “Yes.”

  His final drive went so deep she gasped. His erection flexed and let out a burst of heat.

  “Mm,” Georgie sighed, savoring the sensation.

  He held her, trembling slightly, both their weight leaning on the wall while his breathing recovered.

  “Having sex standing up takes strength,” he remarked. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

  Georgie laughed. “You want a next time, I guess.”

  “Well, yes. That was very enjoyable. Certainly worth doing more than once.”

  She combed her fingers through his short hair and smiled. “I agree. For now, though, you could let me down.”

  “Not yet.” He nuzzled her perspiring neck. “My male part is still a little hard and I like being inside you. Unless you’d rather I release you?”

  “No. Not if you aren’t too tired.” She hugged him closer. “I like us being connected.”

  “We are sexually compatible,” he observed.

  “Yeah,” she said, amused by the way he put it. “We certainly seem to be.”

  CONNOR WAS STILL ACCLIMATING to the rhythms of his body. Because he wasn’t used to sleeping, waking up after having slumbered continued to surprise him. Georgie’s bedside clock, which was a cartoon mouse with hands, informed him it was 3:17.

  Other things informed him he ought to pee.

  He sat up, noted Georgie was fast asleep, and padded to her bathroom.

  He emptied his bladder and was washing his hands when a face that wasn’t his appeared in her mirror. Though surprised by the visit, he wasn’t alarmed. It was his nature to enjoy company.

  “Pink!” he exclaimed, recognizing the ifrit’s normal appearance. “What are you doing here?”

  “Shh,” she said. “You’ll wake the human.”

  “Are you all right? Did you enjoy dancing at the party?”

  “I did until Herself got bored and sent everybody home.” She made a dismissive grimace at his murmur of sympathy. “Whatever. I’m not here to complain. The quote-unquote enchantress has summoned you. She wants you to report on how the seduction went. You’re to go to her office ASAP.”

  “Her office.”

  “Second floor. Her wing. Knock three times and enter. And Connor?”

  “Yes?”

  “If you want the human to fall for you, put the seat down before you leave.”

  She snickered at his surprised expression. Connor had forgotten this ritual.

  He did remember to dress and where to find Luna. He knocked per instructions and went in. Luna sat behind a large desk in a tall, queenly chair, making notations in a paper ledger with a quill pen. When she saw him, she snapped her fingers. This caused both the book and the writing implement to vanish.

  “Your Highness,” he said, bowing respectfully. “You wished to speak to me?”

  “I don’t ‘wish,’” she bit out before waving off her annoyance. Her luminous gray eyes pinned him. “I gather you made headway with my ward tonight.”

  “I did.”

  “And Georgie enjoyed herself?”

  “She seemed to.”

  “Seemed to? You’re not certain?”

  “I am as certain as any male can be.”

  The empress frowned. “Look here—Connor, is it? I don’t expect you to make my ward fall in love with you instantly. You ought, however, to be able to ascertain if your partner climaxed. If you can’t, you’re not much use to me.”

  Connor concealed his discomfort with this line of questioning. “She climaxed, Your Highness. More than once. I was speaking of less . . . concrete forms of enjoyment. I believe the results you hope for are emerging.”

  She stared at him a few heartbeats longer. “Very well. You may continue to use your judgment as you proceed. One more thing—”

  “Yes?” The back of his neck tightened.

  “Don’t forget who gave you that body you’re so pleased with. What I’ve given, I have the power to take away.”

  Connor didn’t think she did, not magically anyway. His spirit had claimed this flesh. His magic, though muted, connected to a higher place than hers. On the other hand, she could kill him by mundane means. A knife, a gun—anything like that would end his existence.

  My physical existence, he reminded. The rest of him was inviolable.

  Being threatened by this person he loved seemed odd. He supposed from Luna’s perspective, it made sense to ensure her gift would earn her a return. She was simply being clever—not to mention true to herself.

  So why did it bother him that she’d barely recalled his name?

  “Well?” she prompted, made impatient by his silence.

  Connor instantly bowed deeply.

  “I hear and obey,” he said like the ifrit she thought he was.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  —

  21

  “Place looks good,” Connor observed, his big shoulder playfully bumping Georgie’s.

  “Place looks very good,” she agreed.

  She twined their fingers together and squeezed excitedly. They stood side by side inside the entrance of her brand-new, not-yet-officially-open shop. Two days after her twenty-first birthday, she’d signed the purchase agreement. Formerly a failing florist, over the last few months, they’d put literal blood, sweat, and tears into retrofitting the rundown site. Since 5:00 a.m. this morning, they’d been setting out inventory and making it look pretty.

  Georgie had plumped more pillows than an HGTV host.

  She’d aimed for more polish than she’d started her salvage career with. Her Adirondack chairs were made of barn wood but so sleekly finished they could grace million-dollar lofts. Her industrial gear lamps were steampunk and not rustic. Every rescued advertising sign, from the Phillips Motor Oil to the Ice Cold Coca Cola, was neatly framed and supplied with a hanging kit. This was upscale retro: unique but not scary. Any shopper—so she hoped—could fall in love with something here.

  Five minutes ago, they’d hung her hand-painted sign featuring Titus on the hooks out front. With that, the place became Black Cat Upcycle. Despite all the work she’d put in, Georgie felt like she was dreaming.

  “I can’t believe it’s mine!” she burst out.

  Connor hugged her closer and kissed her cheek. “That’s what scrimping for three years will do.”

  Alma had been bemused by Georgie’s desire to establish her business without additional handouts. To Georgie’s mind, having a roof over her head while she saved her pennies was help enough. Her guardian hadn’t argued at least, for which Georgie was grateful.

  She and Alma might be different, but Georgie liked to think they respected each other.

  “Last box,” Tom announced, plunking it on the counter beside the vintage cash register.

  “What did I forget?” Georgie asked, alarmed.

  Tom grinned, pried up the cardboard flaps, and pulled out a chilled bottle of not-so-cheap champagne. “You forgot we need to celebrate.”

  “Shoot,” Georgie said. “I should have remembered to pick that up. I’m the boss. And you’ve been helping out since the crack of dawn.”

  “That’s why you’re gonna pay me big bucks someday. Look, I remembered glasses too.”

  He pulled them out as the
bells above the entrance jingled. Georgie spun, but it was her final colleague and not a premature customer.

  “Wow,” Jerry said, gazing around the inviting arrangements. “This place is a slick as a catalogue.”

  He didn’t mean it as an insult. Considering the input he’d had, he was at least half the genius behind her plan.

  “I think it’s different enough,” she said, unable to keep her nerves completely in check. “People won’t think we’re trying to be the same as Hamilton Salvage.”

  Jerry stroked the dark beard he’d grown recently. Georgie thought it made him look like a young Saint Nick. “It’s different enough. Mind you, Francine and Marianne will still shoot the evil eye at you from across the street.”

  “Ha,” Georgie said, competitive enough to be tickled by that idea. “They’ll be too worried I’ll shoot one back.”

  “Georgie wouldn’t really do that,” Connor felt obliged to point out.

  Jerry chuckled and slapped his shoulder. “If I thought she would, I wouldn’t have thrown in my lot with her.”

  His words reminded Georgie she was responsible for him now. Sure, Jerry was older and had mad skills, but partnering with her was a risk for him. His future income, his pride, and his reputation would be affected if Black Cat ended up nose-diving.

  Knowing this made her glad she’d turned down his offer to invest a portion of his kids’ college funds into the enterprise.

  “Christ, Georgie,” Jerry said, reading the anxiety on her face. “Try remembering I’m the forty-something here.”

  Georgie forced out her breath slowly. “We’re going to be all right. This business is a good idea.”

  “It’s a great idea,” Connor corrected. “All of you are brilliant.”

  He meant it, God bless him. Georgie couldn’t tell if Connor knew what he said was true, the way he occasionally did, or if he were being positive. For him, there seemed little difference between prescience and optimism. As much as he’d become a more regular person in their years together, his original sunniness hadn’t dimmed.

  Georgie was glad for that, no matter if people found him eccentric. Him being him was precious to her.

  “Pop that cork,” Jerry instructed Tom. “We need to toast this brilliant venture.”