by Mina Khan
He stood and watched her, almost melting into the shadows.
Chapter Two
What the hell just happened? Rukh wondered as he watched the taillights of Sarah’s car disappear.
Too many things that shouldn’t have happened. He rubbed his stinging lips.
Sarah Jasmine White was dangerous, unpredictable. He took a deep breath. Exhaled. Focusing on his breathing, he crouched low and broke into a run. When he’d gathered enough speed, Rukh launched himself into the ethereal plane to follow her at a safe distance. Staying out of sight wasn’t the issue since humans were blocked from that dimension, but staying out of touching, kissing, influencing range seemed imperative. The woman played havoc with his control.
A harsh breath spilled out of him as he rode the air currents, moving toward his destination. Then there’d been the other djinn in the parking lot. As soon as he’d stepped out of the building, awareness had knocked into him and Rukh’s essence had vibrated like a tuning fork going nuts. He’d known, even though the other had been cloaked and hidden. Was he or she just a curious rubberneck?
The djinn world and human world intersected in certain places and thrived parallel to each other. Sometimes the veils between the two thinned like worn cloth, unraveled in places, and glimpses from both sides were possible. Fortunately, not too often.
Or had there been a purpose behind the presence? He couldn’t even begin to guess. Not being sure shattered his calm, made him waver in flight.
Rukh shook his head clear and concentrated on the view below. Lights lit up downtown buildings, the pink dome of the State Capitol, the white-and-orange University of Texas tower. City lights glittered like spilled jewels underneath him and the streaming lights of vehicles moved like underwater fireworks. The breathtaking display calmed his inner turmoil.
Stay calm, stay in control. Assassin 101.
Yeah, he aced that one. Not. And the blame lay, largely, with Sarah.
Just seeing her and her aura of sainthood had shaken him. Her jumpiness through the parking lot had set him further on edge. The new djinn hadn’t helped. Could she feel both their presences? Impossible.
When the two humans had stepped out of the shadows, he’d almost leapt at them. Fortunately, years of training had kicked in and he’d stayed invisible. So had the other djinn.
Rukh had probed their minds instead. At first he’d been reassured. The two had been hired to snatch her purse. To tell the truth, relief had swept through him as he realized what his client had meant by last resort. He wouldn’t have to kill her after all.
Relief had turned to ash as he suddenly got bombarded with lewd, ugly images from the bigger asshole’s head. Granted, Sarah with her lush curves and long legs was hotter and more sinful than all of hell combined…but still, no woman—especially one with such an aura of goodness—deserved to be brutalized and forced. The guy considered rape an unexpected bonus of the job.
Red, hot rage had washed over Rukh, blinded him. He’d decided to intervene. Ironic in hindsight since his job was to off her. The unknown djinn had disappeared about that time.
Rukh had materialized his head first. Seeing a disembodied head glowering at them with flaming eyes had made both toughies gawk.
Next he’d smiled, showing his teeth, and the runt had dropped his knife.
The grand finale had been a whole lot of blue-gray smoke roiling into existence and congealing into a muscle-bound body, dressed like a gladiator and armed with a wicked-looking sword.
Okay, so the flaming eyes, roiling smoke and sword had been a bit much. But hey, those two punks deserved to be punked. In fact, they’d gotten off light. They’d probably chalk it up as drug-induced hallucinations once they came off their high. Another plus, they wouldn’t dare share their experience…and if they did who’d believe them? Modern humans, for the most part, were clueless about djinns.
The original plan had been to fade again. Unfortunately, he’d come up with the harebrained idea of introducing himself. Touch, he’d theorized, would strengthen his link to Sarah and enable him to peek into her mind.
The handshake hadn’t worked.
Instead, she’d kissed him.
And what a kiss. For a moment, all barriers between them had melted and her mind lay open like a book waiting to be read. One look at her raw desire for him and all his other thoughts had fled. She’d ceased to be Sarah and become Jasmine to him. He’d gawked, frozen like a virgin, and then almost lost himself in her. Damn, it had been too long, and it had felt good. Better than good.
He should never have let that kiss happen. Ha, like he let it happen. Jasmine had taken control. A shiver of delight rushed through him. He’d never had a woman make the first move. Most human females got spellbound and submissive around him, and most djinn females expected to be ravished by the exotic hybrid.
Even as his head warned him off, Rukh’s body craved Jasmine.
A spider prickle of recognition skittered down his spine, as effective as a cold shower. His djinn radar was raging. Either Austin had an uncommonly large infestation of djinns or the same one had turned up again like a leech of a car salesman. Icy foreboding gathered in Rukh’s gut.
Holding tight onto his invisibility, he searched the ether. Again the djinn was shadowed, however his handiwork lay exposed. Heavy, dark clouds massed, as if ordered by a general, at a point right above Sarah’s tiny blue car. From above it looked like a robin’s egg lost from a nest. Thunder boomed and lurid purple lightning cracked the sky, warning of an impending storm.
Shit. What he had here was one bad-ass djinn. One who could control several elements—water, fire, air—and create the worst kind of chaos. And for some reason Bad Ass appeared to be targeting Sarah.
A bolt of lightning shot down through the air. The little car jumped. Sparks flew every which way. Another bolt hit home.
Rukh pulled together all the wind power he could muster and plummeted down to earth. He had to reach Jasmine.
Sarah sat dazed and frozen as she watched an eerie silver web of electricity dance across the front of her car. The shower of bright sparks was both beautiful and scary.
Until a second bolt hit and blew out all the car windows.
She huddled in her seat, screaming. Damn it. Even though she’d reached her complex, she wanted to be home. Under the covers.
This time when the electrical sizzle died off, she thrust open the door and rushed into the rain. Her apartment building stood only a few yards away.
A gust of wind blew her to the ground. Lightning hit the tree next to where she’d stood just seconds before. With another scream she turned away from the brilliant light of destruction. The wind grew stronger, buffeted her and blew her forward toward the apartment. Invisible hands pushed and pulled at her. For a moment she had the unnerving sensation of almost being carried.
The storm tossed her into the covered landing area, past the doors of the ground floor apartments, and onto the bicycles parked for the night. Her yelps got lost amid the clatter of metal and roar of wind. Sarah untangled her limbs from handlebars and wheels and forced herself to stand.
She ran up the stairs to her apartment, shaking with fear. Once inside, she locked the door and turned on all the lights in quick succession until her apartment blazed. She missed the people, the hustle-bustle of the newsroom. Tears burned her eyes. She should have hung around until some of the others were ready to leave. What an idiot. What a narrow escape—both from the men and the storm.
Sarah looked herself over. Bruised, scratched and sniveling, but still alive. She dashed away her tears. I’m okay. I’m okay.
The empty apartment had her skin crawling with the heebie-jeebies. She switched on the television and clicked to CNN. The murmur of the reporter’s voice filled the room and helped calm her nerves a bit.
She sank down into the worn denim futon from her old college days, curling her legs underneath her. The lumps had adjusted to fit her body. What had the guy meant when he’d said they weren’t ge
tting paid enough? Was that his way of referring to how much cash he expected to find in her purse? Ha! The job, while interesting, came with lousy hours and lousier pay. You did it because you loved it. In the hopes that time, hard work and enough good stories would lead to the big time or at least management positions and better pay.
Or had the guy meant they’d been paid to attack her? To…to hurt her and…worse. Why? Who could hate her so much? Could it be the secret project? She dismissed the idea. Papers published controversial stories all the time. And those generated angry letters and threats of lawsuits, but not physical attacks…at least not in the gold old U.S.A. A shudder ripped through her. She cradled a pillow tight and closed her eyes. Tears leaked out at the corners.
Once again the grating voice rasped inside her mind: “I like to chase pussy.” The vision of his fingers twisting open the top button of his jeans looped through her head. Sarah’s eyes flew open and breath came in ragged sobs.
She needed a shower. A hot shower to wash away all reminders of the encounter, rid her of her fears of what could have happened. With a groan, she pushed to her feet and headed towards the bedroom. On the way she made sure all the doors and windows were locked and the curtains drawn. She stripped off her clothes and threw them into the laundry basket, then turned on the shower as hot as she could bear.
With a sigh of relief, Sarah stood under the pelting water. The trickle of tears turned into a deluge. She half raised her face to the water and let herself cry.
Oh heaven and hell, stop with the tears. Given the day Sarah had just had, the tears were logical. But watching her face crumple, hearing the gut-deep harsh sobs, filled Rukh with an irrational need to pull her into his arms, wrap her in a hug.
As soon as the urge had gelled into conscious thought, his essence hardened into visibility and his arms slid up around her shivering, wet body.
Sarah’s eyes popped open and she staggered back with a yell.
His arms tightened around her, steadying her, keeping her close. Well, shit. At least, she’d stopped crying.
Fear-bright green eyes stared at him instead.
Given he was an assassin, sent to kill her, her response was natural, even intelligent. Yet, bitterness churned in his gut at the thought of her fearing him.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”
“Am I hallucinating?” Her question came out as a croak.
“Yes, yes you are.” That seemed a much better answer than the truth.
She pinned him with her dark, direct gaze. “You’re just a figment of my imagination. A fantasy?”
“Yes.” He didn’t dare move.
“Then why are you still wearing clothes?”
He made the clothes disappear and stood there as naked as her. Skin against skin, the heat from her body melted into his. Warm water washed over them like rain.
“Much better.” A smile twitched her lips. “I’ll take hot fantasy over crappy reality any day.”
Rukh’s pulse skipped a beat, then broke into a run. Naked and wet she pushed him to the very edge of his control. He winced as his manhood throbbed and hardened, stretched to readiness against her. He wanted to shove her up against the cool tile wall, grasp those luscious hips and take her hard. No hesitation, no consideration. His desperate need shook him to the core, and Rukh was afraid. Afraid that once again his body would betray him. He dropped his arms from her, stepped back. She needed comfort, not mauling.
“We need soap.”
Her voice stopped him from moving further away, made him look at her again. Big mistake. His gaze followed a rivulet of water down the side of her face, along her graceful neck, to her full caramel breasts capped with whorls of sateen mahogany. The woman, all warm amber and lush curves, left his mouth dry. His gaze swept over her shapely legs and returned to the tight bud of her left breast. She took a step forward, out from under the showerhead, and a bead of water dangled like a jewel. He trembled to touch it.
“So, how does this fantasy thing work?”
Hell if he knew. “Any which way you want it.”
She grabbed a washcloth and pumped some soap onto it. Within moments she’d got it covered in lather. The sweet smell of cinnamon and vanilla soaked into the warm air. “It’ll be easier if I close my eyes.” The tremor in her voice made something inside of him clench. “I guess I’ll start soaping myself and imagine it’s you.”
Sarah soaped her body, starting with her neck and working her way down. The water beat a rhythmic tattoo on her back. She felt languorous.
She could feel his large hand over hers, guiding her. “Rukh,” she whispered. Obviously her subconscious had labeled him her hero. Well, he definitely made for a pleasant fantasy. Nervous breakdowns were way underrated. She moved the soapy washcloth in slow circles down her exposed throat and between her breasts. Its roughness on her areolas shot flashes of desire to her melting core.
Sarah recalled him standing in the billowing steam, naked and wet. Drops of water caught in the swirls of his chest hair and glistened like diamonds. His gaze, dark and stormy, raked over her. She’d had to close her eyes to hide from his intensity.
Now she wallowed in his warmth cocooning her back, shivered as his large, calloused hands ran all over her body, taking liberties wherever they pleased. Caressing, teasing, squeezing. She imagined kisses on her neck and shoulder. Soft, light kisses; sharp, playful nips. Damn. Her imagination came in high-definition.
He nuzzled her in the soft bend between her neck and shoulder. “Oh God, I’ve wanted to taste you ever since I laid eyes on you,” he whispered against her skin. Her heartbeat did a drunken dance. His mouth locked onto her skin, and sucked in sharp and hard. She gasped, giving herself over to the twin assault of teeth and breath.
Rukh gentled into a kiss. His tongue swirled over the spot, soothing and stroking. A low moan of pleasure rumbled through her. Oh, that felt so good.
She squeezed the washcloth until soapy rivulets ran down her hips and legs. Sarah bent down and soaped each of her long legs—from the pelvic crease to the tips of the toes and back. A yearning ache pulsed at her center. Her right hand slipped between her legs, soapy fingers rubbed the entire length of her slit. Her pulse quickened as she played with the sensitive folds of skin. In her mind, Rukh did the spreading and probing and touching. She refused to open her eyes and risk reality.
Her hand moved faster and harder between her legs. Her breath came in ragged sobs. Soon she was trembling and riding her hand. Intense pleasure burst inside her. With a raw cry, she dropped to her knees and tumbled onto her side. A warm flush spread from her center. She melted and sighed, grateful for the release.
Sarah lay limp and spent in the cool bathtub. She took deep breaths. The water pelted her relentlessly, rolling down her head and side, rivulets of water rushing down her skin. At last, she opened her eyes. Of course, he wasn’t there. Emptiness pooled inside like chilly mist.
What the hell, she wondered. Where did that come from? First, she’d jumped down the throat of a total stranger, now this. Maybe she needed a man. Oh well, she’d done pretty good on her own. Not that that could ever replace the loneliness or the spontaneity and delicious exploration of a partner…of a lover.
Sarah slowly rose and turned off the water. She rubbed herself down with a soft, fluffy towel, basking in its softness. Then she walked naked to her bedroom and slid between the sheets.
Her hair fanned out, wet and cool around her head, on the pillow. Sarah lay there, tired, warm and content. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to fall asleep, but sleep cocooned her in its honeyed embrace. Her gaze drifted back to the steamy bathroom.
She thought she saw a man’s face peering out, almost lost in the shadows, like a ghost. Her heart stuttered. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged. The face became more defined. Rukh. Cold shiver and hot desire tangled and spilled through her body.
Jasmine. Jasmine. Jasmine. Go to sleep. Waves of sleep washed over her. Her head, heavy an
d full of cotton, lolled back as her eyelids fluttered closed.
Chapter Three
Early the next day, 6:30 a.m. according to the rooster clock in the window, Sarah floated into the Sunshine Bakery riding on the aroma of freshly baked bread and rich roasted coffee.
The door chime brought her friend Amy running from the kitchen. A smile of relief broke across her round, flour-smudged face. “Wow, you made good time.”
“You did say emergency,” Sarah said, hanging up her jacket on the stand by the door. Actually, Amy had sounded almost in tears when she’d called thirty minutes earlier.
After enveloping her in a warm hug, the baker handed her a fresh black apron. “I really appreciate your help in the front. Breakfast’s on the house.”
“Better be, you tore me away from the hottest dream evah,” Sarah said, tying on the apron and following her friend behind the counter. “Sorry to hear Mimi’s sick.”
“Morning sickness.” Amy made a face. “James said he’d come in early.”
“I have to be at the paper by 9:00 a.m., but until then I’m all yours,” Sarah said, getting coffee started. “Now, shoo! I’ll manage here.” She’d helped out enough times to know what needed to be done and where everything was kept.
“Cool. The regulars should start coming in any minute.” With a wave, Amy disappeared into the kitchen.
By the time she’d placed condiments at every table, the first customers walked in and Sarah got busy taking orders and passing them on to the kitchen, handing out silverware and napkins, and pouring everyone hot cups of coffee or cold glasses of water. Delivering food, cleaning up. It reminded her of the first college job she’d had when she met Amy.
During a lull, Sarah decided she needed a cup of coffee. She’d just stepped behind the counter and selected a clean mug for herself when the door chimed. She looked up and almost dropped the mug. Dream guy. Rukh, in the flesh, strode into the bakery.
What was the likelihood of running into the man two days in a row? As a journalist, she didn’t believe in coincidences. Last night’s suspicions swamped her. Was he in cahoots with the others? Was he stalking her? Her heart beat out a nervous SOS.
