by Emma Holly
Ejaculate shot from him, pleasure flaring and expanding lushly as he released. Georgie wrapped her arms and legs around him.
Nuzzling his neck, she said his three favorite words in the whole language.
“Me too,” he agreed. He squeezed and caressed the buttock he still had possession of. Georgie had an outstanding bottom, round and strong and excellent to hold onto.
Seeming to enjoy his admiration, Georgie sighed happily. “If Iksander knew what we like to do on this couch, and how many times we’ve done it, he’d have chosen somewhere else to sit.”
“Mm,” Connor responded, momentarily too sated to take in her comment.
When her observation registered a moment later, it inspired an inner start he wasn’t accustomed to.
Had Georgie been thinking about another man while they were having sex?
AT THE MENTION OF HIS name, Iksander yanked the enchanted measuring cup from his ear. Having leaned forward to listen, he straightened shakily. He should have stopped eavesdropping the moment Georgie said they’d help. None of what came after was his business.
None of what came after sat easily.
He blew out his breath, working to steady his skipping pulse. Every part of his body was tight with stress.
Georgie saying “I love you” to the angel shouldn’t have struck with the force it did. The human’s voice was less like Najat’s than before. Certainly, her personality had diverged. She hadn’t made him imagine his wife declaring her love for another man. He’d simply heard Georgie.
You suspected they love each other, he told himself. This isn’t a surprise.
Surprised or not, he swallowed. He supposed he was wondering if anyone would love him again, if anyone would see the worthiness his wife had.
Maybe Najat loved me by mistake. Maybe she was meant for someone better just like Georgie.
His hands clenched in reaction, unintentionally denting the measuring cup. More of his natural strength was returning. This should have inspired relief, but without warning, rage overwhelmed that feeling. He had just enough self-control not to roar. He dropped the cup to the floor, stomping it with his coarse work boot. Again and again he smashed the metal beneath its sole, until it was pancake flat and his leg trembled.
He panted, aware he’d destroyed an asset he might want to re-use.
“Fuck it.” He pressed the heels of his palms over his eye sockets.
If Luna were spying on him, she’d be enjoying his show now.
ALONE IN HER OFFICE, Luna slid the laptop away from her on the desk. Her inability to hear what Georgie and Connor said undermined her pleasure at the sultan’s snowballing pain. Oh, the activity with which the pair had finished their conversation was obvious. Luna was too familiar with jilted fury not to recognize it in Iksander. What she didn’t understand was how he’d rigged a listening charm on her ward’s apartment when thus far her ifrits had failed.
The sultan was shockingly average at spell work.
There has to be a way, she thought. Iksander couldn’t best her in this.
She tapped her lips and leaned back in her chair. No wards were perfect. Therefore, Connor’s must have holes. Certain people had to be let in and out for convenience sake.
A smile curved her mouth as the answer occurred to her.
In this instance, people weren’t the only beings who came and went freely.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
—
ALLIANCES
Connor volunteered to share their decision with Iksander. Georgie was tempted to let him, but passing this particular buck felt cowardly. So she’d have to walk across the street to find the sultan. Just because she’d learned the Hamiltons were her parents in another reality shouldn’t make her unable to face them.
Georgie’s life was her life. Her friends were her friends. Sad though it was, her mother evidently died in both timelines. Georgie couldn’t wish anything she’d experienced undone.
She was who she was supposed to be.
On the other hand, she might be feeling a little guilty for some of her past actions. An evil empress had raised her. She’d had all day to think about what that meant. She couldn’t deny the possibility she’d let Luna rub off on her.
Maybe it was time to bury one hatchet.
Before she faced down her demons, she grabbed a bushel of apples and tucked a folder beneath her arm. Not up to dealing with Marianne, she took the long route around Hamilton Salvage to its back bay.
The evening was crisp and clear. Mother Nature being the best ventilation, the big workshop doors were propped open. The sound of whirring saws was music to Georgie’s ears, the scent of fresh-cut wood her favorite perfume. As she walked into the well-lit space, the first person she spotted was Jerry’s former boss. The extent to which that relieved her was embarrassing. Tobias was quiet and hard to read, but he’d never given her any grief. She’d far rather talk to him than his wife Francine.
“Hello,” he said, gray eyebrows up as he pulled off his sawdust-flecked safety goggles. Thankfully, he didn’t look suspicious, just surprised. “Is there something Hamilton Salvage can do for Black Cat?”
She didn’t expect his wry inflection, and nervousness flooded her. “I had an idea that might benefit us both. And apples.” She thrust out the peace offering. “The orchard at Ravenwings is having a bumper crop. I thought maybe you’d like some.”
“I am a fan of pie,” Tobias conceded. “And Francine makes a mean one.”
As he took the bushel from her, the folder fell from beneath her arm, spilling out a fan of pages.
“My proposal,” she said, kneeling to pick it up.
“All right,” Tobias said. “Come into the shipping room where it’s quiet and we’ll talk.”
She didn’t expect to find Iksander there. Seated on a plastic chair in his humble work clothes, he was reading a tall stack of newspapers. Probably it was superficial of her to think so, but his incredibly athletic build made perusing the New York Times seem an odd pursuit for him. Whatever he sought, he wasn’t finding it. His high brow was furrowed, his mouth pursed unhappily.
Her boots scraped the concrete as she came to a halt. The sultan looked up and gaped. He’d asked her to keep his business private. Should she pretend they didn’t know each other?
“Have you two met?” Tobias asked, his attention shifting between them.
“Briefly,” Iksander answered. “We discussed the possibility of me doing odd jobs for her.”
“Ah.” Tobias nodded and spoke to her again. “Alexander is a good worker, if my word is worth anything to you. Hopefully, you won’t want him full time right off. We could use his help while Francine’s recovering.”
This was a delicate way of alluding to her poaching Jerry. Georgie supposed she couldn’t begrudge him the dig. “I, uh, noticed Francine’s been walking around on crutches.” She scratched her temple. “I hope she gets better soon.”
Tobias smiled faintly. “I’ll be sure to pass on your well wishes.” Seeming casual, he leaned on an invoice-stacked counter. “What’s your proposal?”
“We want to arrange a tourist shuttle to bring people out to shop from surrounding B&Bs and hotels. A Thanksgiving thing. And pre-Christmas. Show off our small town charm. So far Stuckey’s Diner and the train museum are on board. We thought we’d offer special activities for kids. Give discounts. Decorate. Print up brochures for the hotels to stock. I think we can pull it together quickly if we’re organized.”
She handed him the mock up of her proposed brochure.
Tobias looked it over. Connor had snapped the photographs. Ironically, he excelled at the cover job Luna had invented. “You put Hamilton in here already.”
“You’re a draw for the area. I’d be a fool not to notice the cross traffic.”
“Hm,” he said. “I think we’d be interested. I’ll have to run it past my wife. And Marianne. On account of the extra work involved.”
Georgie’s stomach sank in dismay. “I’m not really plan
ning to do this by committee, if that’s what you’re thinking. I mean, I care what they want, within reason, but if I have to worry about pleasing everybody, I can imagine this turning into, um, sort of a nightmare for everyone.”
Clusterfuck was the actual word that came to mind.
“Oh can you?” Tobias said with more wry amusement. “Well, I guess I can imagine that myself. How about I appoint Mike our liaison—neutral party and all that.”
“That would work,” she said, maybe sounding too relieved.
Tobias coughed out a laugh. “I guess that guardian of yours taught you a thing or two about taking charge.”
That comment brought Iksander’s head back out his newspapers.
“I . . . guess she did,” Georgie agreed slowly. That was a strange thing to realize: that the evil empress’s influence might not have been all bad.
Even stranger was the idea that if Luna hadn’t interfered, the man in front of her would have adopted her. Would she and Tobias have gotten along? Maybe respected each other? Without a doubt, they had things in common. She was pretty sure he’d have made someone a good father.
Her expression must have been peculiar. Tobias cocked his head. “Is there something else?”
She shook herself. “No. You can keep the folder if you want.”
Iksander set down a final section of the Times and stood up from his chair. “Tobias, I have matters to discuss with Georgie, if you’re able to spare me.”
“Sure,” Tobias said. “Why don’t we call it a night?”
Iksander bowed, the spare grace of the act suiting him. How anyone wouldn’t guess he was royalty mystified her. Then again, Luna was an empress. Georgie hadn’t picked up on that.
To be honest, she’d neglected to notice a lot of important things.
FROM A PRACTICAL STANDPOINT, Georgie’s arrival was convenient. From a personal one, Iksander could have used advance warning. With what he’d eavesdropped on too fresh in his mind, admiring Georgie’s behavior—or her person—seemed ill advised. One glance at the multiple-buckled black leather pants she wore set his blood on fire, teasing him with the freedoms women in this realm enjoyed. Her long-sleeved top was equally tantalizing. Its red fabric was sheer as smoke, the matching bra she wore underneath mocking the concept of modesty.
Watching her offer Tobias an olive branch meant he could like the person in the outrageous clothes. Georgie was trying to respect a relationship she didn’t even remember.
Aware he was at least half erect, he growled to himself as they left Hamilton Salvage together.
Georgie’s ears were sharper than he thought. She glanced at him, startled. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Certainly not. I’m grateful for the chance to pick up a few odd jobs.”
“Oh.” She seemed to realize he didn’t want to discuss their actual business out in the open. “Right.”
Considering both their distraction, crossing Black Bear’s main street unscathed was a miracle.
“It’s up this way,” she said, pointing to her apartment’s stairs.
Though he knew this, he went along with her pretense. He followed her up the steps silently, his view of her rear in the formfitting trousers no aid to his mental acuity.
Connor opened the door while Georgie was digging out her key.
“Hey,” he said with a radiant smile. “You found him.”
Iksander attempted to ignore the easy way Connor bussed Georgie’s cheek.
“Back,” the angel ordered, blocking Titus the cat’s escape with his leg. “You’ve been outside tonight already.”
The cat meowed in complaint, but Connor shoved the door closed.
Iksander glanced around. The pair had cleaned up. He didn’t see as many boxes sitting around. He saw the infamous couch, though he tried to conceal that it meant anything to him.
“So,” Georgie said just as he cleared his throat. “What exactly would you like me to do?”
He pushed all inappropriate answers from his mind. “I need a few supplies before we begin. Do you have a mirror and perhaps a lipstick? I’ll want to write on the glass.”
“I’ve got a selection of mirrors,” she said. “Do you prefer big or little?”
“I’ll show him what we have,” Connor volunteered.
“Great.” Georgie headed toward wherever she stored her cosmetics. She looked back at Iksander. “Do you care if the lipstick is natural?”
“No, but whichever you use most is preferable.”
“How about some sea salt for a protective circle?”
“Sure,” he said, wanting her to be comfortable. Sea salt was more appropriate for summoning demons, but as long as she didn’t pour it on him, he didn’t care.
Connor returned as she disappeared. “This is Georgie’s favorite mirror.” He held up an antique tray from a vanity set. Apart from being backed in silver and not gold, it was similar to what palace women used. “The glass is specked, but it still reflects. And Georgie uses it all the time.”
“That’s perfect,” Iksander said.
Connor beamed. Iksander found his willingness to please disconcerting. The angel didn’t seem to view Iksander as a threat . . . of any sort.
“I’ll roll back the rug in the living room,” the male volunteered. “Salt is easier to sweep away than vacuum.”
Iksander supposed it was, though he never worried about such things. He watched, bemused, as Georgie came back and the pair efficiently set up a spell space. For her final task, Georgie drew a plain circle then appeared to contemplate adding more detail.
“No stars,” he cautioned.
“Right,” she said, startled by his guess. “Sorry. I forgot about your Solomon seal issues. That would be like I was trying to trap you.” Her eyes unfocused with a thought. “I don’t suppose . . .”
“No,” he said very firmly. “Trying that on Luna isn’t a good idea. Human magic might be more powerful in principle than djinn’s, but only if the human has equal experience and will. Luna possesses an expertise superior to anyone’s I’ve ever encountered.”
“Okay,” Georgie said. “I’m not eager to go mano a mano with her.”
“That is wise,” Iksander said seriously. “The empress is extremely dangerous.”
“How about candles?” she asked. “I always think they create a nice atmosphere. Not that you need atmosphere. You probably do magic all the time.”
“Candles are pleasant. And you and I will work as a team. If you like them, they’ll be helpful.”
His mention of them working as a team seemed to make her as nervous as his warnings about Luna. She really did think of herself as an amateur.
At last, she had everything arranged. Careful not to disturb the barrier of salt, she stepped into the spelling space. She looked at him questioningly. “Should it be just you and me in here?”
“Just you and me. As I said before, I’m concerned if Connor uses magic, he’ll alert his other half.”
“I’ll get the lights,” Connor said. “And hold onto the cat.”
This seemed a sensible course of action.
Iksander drew and released a breath. Now that they’d come to it, he was nervous too. He approached Georgie’s circle and swung in. Her energy passed over him like the skin of a soap bubble, subtle but palpable.
“Good,” he said. “I can tell you’ve charged the protection.”
Georgie seemed shyly pleased by this—and maybe a bit surprised.
“You have power,” he assured her. “You’ve no cause to doubt that.”
He hoped she had enough confidence. He didn’t know what he’d try if this attempt didn’t work.
GEORGIE’S SKIN BUZZED as she and the sultan sat cross-legged on the bare floorboards. She was nervous but excited—which might not have been appropriate. She couldn’t help it. She was going to help a real djinni do magic. Hopefully anyway. God, she hoped she didn’t muck this up.
She’d have felt better if Connor were part of this.
Iksander uncapped the lipstick she’d brought for him. His wavy hair was tied back but some of the front was loose. The golden strands fell forward as he drew what looked like a pair of overlapping suns on the tray mirror.
“What’s that a symbol for?” she asked curiously.
“They’re suns,” he said then realized she must know that. “A friend of mine used this sign in a tattoo. He marked the friends I’m looking for with it. I don’t have anything else that belonged to them, so this will help me focus on finding them. This too.”
‘This too’ was a clear, sparkly stone he dug out of his pocket. The size of a walnut, it was brilliantly faceted. He set it gently where the suns he’d drawn overlapped. The soft light from the candles threw rainbows off its surface.
“Holy smokes,” Georgie breathed. “Is that a real diamond?”
“Diamonds this quality and size are common in my dimension.”
“I guess you sprinkle little ones on your cereal.”
“Nonsense,” the sultan said. “That wouldn’t taste good at all.”
He dropped his somberness enough for a smile to ghost across his mouth. That made her glad she’d tried the joke. Calmer then, she rolled her shoulders and exhaled.
“Take my hands, please,” the sultan said.
For a second, she hesitated. It seemed weird to hold another man’s hands with Connor watching—like she was flirting in front of him. That was stupid, though. She and Iksander were just sharing energy. Physical contact would facilitate a connection.
She gritted her teeth and placed her hands in his.
Her wariness might have been justified. The instant he closed his grip, both her vision and her physical sensations flicked away from her surroundings. The perceptions that replaced them were Technicolor.
Georgie stood in a kitchen that, while not her own, was eerily familiar. Iksander was there too, sitting a distance behind her on what wasn’t quite her couch. She was excited to have a handsome man in her apartment, though she was nervous too. Her pulse pattered in her body, her cheeks heating with a blush. When she heard Iksander zip up the UVA hoodie she’d loaned him, the soft flesh between her legs grew wet.
