Aliya Baban and the Cave of Pleasure

by Melinda Barron

“Don’t worry about him. He knows when to make himself scarce.”

  “But he didn’t, um, come.”

  “I’m sure he has by now. Some pretty little thing in the main room is probably enjoying his charms right now.”

  They stared at each other for a few long minutes, then Matuse stepped back. “Shall I take you home, or would you like to stay for a while?”

  “It’s my last night in the cave, huh?”

  “Oh no, you have one more. Plus, you can come back anytime.”

  It wasn’t exactly the answer she wanted, but she nodded anyway. “Then take me home. And tomorrow, I want us to stay at my house, just the two of us?”

  He kissed her gently. “Your wish is my command.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning, Aliya went to the coffee shop near H&H. The place was crowded, but she had an idea to take in pastries for her, Jessica and Anya to enjoy. When she got to the counter, though, it was to have the barista tell her that the pastries were sold out, and fresh ones would be available in just a few minutes. The barista asked Aliya to have a seat, and told her she would bring them out to her.

  Aliya found a seat just as a couple was leaving, snagged a copy of the morning paper and read while she sipped her coffee. As she read, the feeling of dread she’d had the last few days came back over her. She sat up straighter and lowered the paper.

  A man sat across from her, his gaze intent. He was handsome, and looked to be in his early fifties. His dark eyes were penetrating, though, and made her uncomfortable.

  “Hello,” she offered.

  “There was no other seat. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. I’m just waiting for some pastries.”

  “Delicious. I’m sure the ladies will enjoy them.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, then realized where she’d seen him—in the foyer of H&H just two days ago, when her first feelings of dread had appeared. It took her no time to figure out who he was.

  Her heart felt as if it skipped several beats as the man stared at her, his eyes so like those of the man she now knew she loved.

  “Matuse.”

  “I’m here, love.” He appeared behind her, stroking her shoulder. “Father.”

  “Matuse, how you’ve changed. Well, maybe not.”

  “What are you doing here, Margon?”

  “Why I’ve come to see the woman my son has fallen in love with, of course. She is a beauty, I’ll give you that.”

  “You’ve been following me.” She turned her gaze to Matuse. “How could you not know that?”

  “Because you didn’t make eye contact with him. If you had, I would have known.”

  “Yes, and it was a hard thing to do. You felt me, though, Aliya. I know you did.”

  “I felt darkness and doom.”

  “Exactly.” He held out his hand a woman walking by them tripped. Only Matuse’s quick actions kept her from hitting the floor. He caught her and set her upright. She thanked him profusely before going on her way.

  “I failed with him.” The disgust in Margon’s voice was obvious and he stood, buttoning his jacket. “Well, I’m off. I hope I get a wedding invitation.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Matuse replied. “Before you go, tell me the truth about what you’re doing here.”

  “I’ve already told you. I wanted to see the woman you’ve fallen for. The woman who will give me grandchildren.”

  “Grandchildren you will never know,” Aliya responded. “You can bet on that.”

  “Believe it if you like, but I’ve waited a long time, and I don’t intend to miss out on spoiling a little bundle of evil. I failed with my son. I won’t fail with the grandson you carry.”

  He disappeared and Aliya turned to Matuse, who slumped into a chair next to her. “What does he mean?”

  “What he means is he knows I love you, and want to mate with you. He intends to try and take any children we have.”

  “But he said, the one I carry. Am I pregnant?”

  “No, not yet. But only by the grace of me remembering at the last minute to hold back. Last night, when we were together. We mated, the lights, how hard we came, together. All it takes now is for you to say that you’re mine, forever.”

  “Then I’m…” she stopped speaking when he put his fingers against her lips.

  Her head spun, and seconds later they were in his office. He let go of her hands and began to pace.

  “Aliya, I love you. I admit it freely.”

  “And I love you. Why do you not want me to say the words?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and turned away from her. “You have no idea how hard it was growing up with demon blood. How hard it was to fight a nature that I hated. I can’t wish that on my children, or on you. I’m so sorry, my love.”

  “But you did it. You made it through the whole thing on your own.”

  “No, not on my own. I had the help of my mother. She’s a wonderful woman.”

  She walked to him, wrapping her arms around him and putting her breasts against his chest. “Our children will have us. We can help them through anything.”

  “Can we? My father just announced his intentions. He knows what happened last night. What he doesn’t know is I held back. He thinks you’re pregnant already.”

  “I wish I was. I’ve seen how happy Anya is with her two lovers and the babies they have created. I want that. I want that happiness, with you. Please don’t deny me, deny us.”

  “How can we, knowing he’s there, trying to spread his evil? How can we?”

  “How can we not? I love you, and I’ve spent too many years letting my mother run my life. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let your father take over now that I’m free of her. We’ll fight him together when the time comes. I’m yours, Matuse, forever.”

  “Oh, my Aliya, you don’t know what you’ve just done.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve told the man I love that I’m his. What does he have to say in response?”

  “That I’m yours, forever, and I love you.” He caressed her cheek, then kissed her gently. “You’re a she-devil, in so many ways.”

  She flashed a brilliant smile at him. “Who better to charm a demon? I do have one question, though.”

  “Just one?” He stroked her backside. “Hum, three more pounds. I like it.”

  “Will I be like you, and Anya, I mean, a Djinni?” She wrinkled her nose a little.

  “Don’t you want to be?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m the type of person who needs all the facts, first. So you’re going to have to tell me everything. Can I decide later?”

  “Yes, you can. As my mate, you can take all the time in the world. And, when we’re ready for children, then they will come.”

  “And will they be Djinn?”

  “Yes, and part demon.”

  She swallowed hard. “As long as you love me, we can face anything, together.”

  “I do love you, Aliya.”

  “Then kiss me like you mean it. And don’t ever let me go. Promise me.”

  His lips were gentle, yet demanding, and he pulled her into a crushing embrace that stole the breath from her lungs.

  “I promise. Forever.”

  The End

  Read on for a preview of To Rub, Honor and Obey, the third book in Melinda Barron’s Desires of the Lamp series.

  Coming July 2008 to Resplendence Publishing

  Chapter One

  Moreen McGee glanced across the street at the apartment windows as she walked by. This was her fourth pass in front of the building this evening. She’d been by six times the night before, but the witch had never left.

  There was no doorman, so that was a plus. Getting inside shouldn’t be too hard. All she needed to do was buzz a few of the apartments until somebody, out of frustration at being bothered by the noise, hit the button to unlock the main door. Then, it was upstairs to Aliya’s apartment, and the deed would be done. In and out. Simple and quick. Painless.

 
This was all Aliya’s fault anyway. As far as Moreen was concerned, she’d had it coming. No matter what sort of “new leaf” she’d turned over, Aliya was still a witch, and she always would be.

  Just as the thought ran through her mind, the front door to the building opened and Aliya walked out. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater, and on her arm was the gorgeous blond Moreen had seen with her at the teen center just two short days ago.

  They were laughing and had their arms around each other. The door closed behind them as they turned and kissed, the contact lingering. Moreen sneered as she watched them, so obviously in love it was disgusting. Then, the man walked to the street and hailed a taxi. Perfect. If they were taking a taxi, they would be gone for a while.

  She’d have plenty of time.

  When Aliya and her man climbed into the taxi and sped away, she stepped into the shadows of the building, then pulled gloves from her pocket and tugged them on. Always best not to leave any fingerprints. She’d learned that the hard way.

  The hood of her sweatshirt was already pulled up, her dark hair piled on top of her head underneath it. She had padded herself to hide her curves, so that if people were asked about anyone hanging around, they could say, “well, I think it was a heavy-set young man.”

  Moreen crossed the street and started pressing buttons on the building intercom system. It didn’t take long before the door buzzed and she was in. She took the stairs to the second floor, then stopped at Aliya’s door, knocking just to make sure there was no one inside.

  When knock went unanswered, Moreen pulled a lock pick set from her pocket, making quick work of the doorknob and the deadbolt. She was inside the apartment in less than two minutes. There was no buzzing of an alarm system, no telltale beeps as the system waited for the homeowner to put in their code.

  “Idiot.” She snorted, then cautiously stepped down the hallway and into the main room. It was spacious and beautifully decorated. The sight of the furnishings made Moreen want to puke. Compared to her one bedroom, fifth-floor walkup in Queens, this place was Buckingham Palace.

  Her fingers itched to touch things, to examine all of Aliya’s fine belongings. Hell, she wanted to take half of them with her. She was sure a lot of the items would fetch a pretty penny from a fence. The extra money would keep her in food and rent for a few months.

  But, as tempting as the idea was, that wasn’t why she was here. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the wallet. Aliya’s wallet.

  For the past two days, Moreen had sweated bullets every time someone had come into the youth center. She’d panicked when someone had knocked on her door at home. She just knew they were there to accuse her of theft. Again. All because some snot-nosed teen-age pickpocket had seen an opportunity to make a few bucks, and took the witch’s wallet.

  She had seen the kid at work, sliding the wallet from Aliya’s purse with such expertise that the foolish woman hadn’t felt a thing. And then he had run off. By the time Moreen had caught up to him, and thought to return the wallet to her high school rival, Aliya and her two friends were gone.

  Moreen had berated the kid halfheartedly, reminding him that she was doing community service, at the Parker Center for Teens, because she’d made stupid decisions, like he’d just done. Still, secretly, she’d been thrilled at his choice of targets. Aliya Baban had been a thorn in her side for years, and Moreen considered her the starting point of her own downhill slide. Meanwhile, the bitch was thriving, with a beautiful apartment and a gorgeous boyfriend. Where was the justice in that?

  Still, she wouldn’t let the theft set yet another teen on a path to destruction. She planned on returning the wallet, and all would be well. Over the past two days she’d expected Aliya to show up, to ask if anyone had seen the wallet, or turned it in. And, if she had, Moreen planned to pull it out and act innocent.

  “Oh, you mean this? Well, I didn’t open it, so I didn’t know it was yours. I’m sure everything’s in there, cash, credit cards. Go ahead and check.” The kid had promised her he hadn’t taken any money out. Just to make sure, Moreen had made him turn out his pockets, and then checked inside the wallet herself. Sure enough, there was eighty-two dollars cash and four credit cards.

  Now, she just had to figure out a place to put it so that Aliya would discover it and say, “Oh wow, there it is. Cool!”

  Putting it in the kitchen seemed too easy, the same went for the living room, or dining room, or even the bathroom. It would seem too obviously planted in those places. The best place for it, she was sure, was in the bedroom, lying next to a dresser on the floor. Aliya would just think it had dropped out of her purse. It may take her a few days to discover it, but it would be there, fully intact despite Moreen’s wish to take some of the money and keep it for herself.

  She hurried across the living room to a hallway she was sure led to a bedroom. She passed what appeared to be an office, a bathroom, and a bedroom that looked to be for guests before coming to one that looked used. Very used. The smell of sex was in the air. Moreen sneered. Aliya and her blond hunk must have enjoyed a quick fuck before going out for the evening.

  The bed took up much of the room, and there was a master bathroom off to the side. Against one wall, though, was a dresser, with drawers hanging open.

  “Perfect.”

  She crossed to it, debating on whether to leave the wallet in one of the drawers, or lying on the ground. Finally opting for the floor, she dropped it like it was hot, watched it land, then kicked it so that it was half-under the dresser.

  “Done.” Now the theft couldn’t be traced back to the Center, and the teen who’d stolen it would stay out of trouble.

  Moreen looked at the dresser top, studying the bottles of perfume and necklaces that littered the surface. She reached out and took up one of the bottles of perfume, squirting it into the air and sniffing appreciatively. The smell of roses filled the room, competing with the smell of sex. She hadn’t owned a bottle of perfume in about seven years. Perfume was a luxury that Moreen couldn’t afford. Money spent on trivial things like that would be better saved for food or utilities.

  She sat the bottle down, then stared at the object sitting next to it. A lamp, just like those found in the Aladdin tales—something that would grant wishes, giving the person who owned it power and the ability to make things better for themselves. She picked it up and studied it. The lamp’s surface seemed dull and lifeless, and she shook her head in disgust. Leave it to Aliya to have something like this, something that could inspire people to dream, and to ignore it.

  Moreen thought of her mother, whom she hadn’t talked to in years. She remembered her mother tucking her in at night and reading her fairy tales when she was a child, especially the tales of Aladdin and his lamp. Because of the lamp, Aladdin had ended up with a better life. She’d always dreamed of that, of finding her own lamp, complete with a genie to bring her riches and clothes and a huge house. It was a time when she believed in fairy tales.

  “Right. I’ve lost that time, haven’t I?” She put the lamp back down and headed quickly for the doorway.

  She was in the living room when she stopped, an image of the lamp’s dull surface swimming before her eyes. Then, there was Aliya in high school, her clothes perfect, not a hair out of place, telling everyone that Moreen had slept with the entire baseball team. And Aliya had done it just to win a student council election.

  Deep-seeded anger took hold of her stomach, spread through her chest and into her hands, which she clenched into fists. “She doesn’t deserve it,” Moreen muttered. “If she did, she’d take better care of it.”

  She turned and strode back into the bedroom, picking up the lamp again. She wasn’t a thief anymore, but for Aliya, she would make an exception. The lamp was too big to fit in her pocket, so she unzipped her hoodie, shoved it inside, and zipped it back up, heading for the front door.

  Given the condition of the lamp, Aliya would probably never miss it. And Moreen would have the wonderful feeling of pulling something
over on the woman who had set her on the path to ruin. A small trade-off, true, but seeing the lamp everyday would bring a smile to her face, she was sure of that.

  It was more than an hour, and several subway stops later, when Moreen climbed the last flight of stairs to her apartment. She let herself in and leaned against the door. She hadn’t broken into an apartment in more than seven years. And, even though she’d done this to help one of her charges, she’d still ended up letting her thieving nature take over in the end.

  She unzipped her jacket and took out the lamp, putting it on the table and stepping back. It needed to be cleaned. Badly. After taking off her jacket and padding, she crossed the hall to Mrs. Weinstein’s apartment. The older woman answered on the first knock.

  “Why, Miss McGee, how are you this evening?”

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Weinstein, thanks. You don’t happen to have any brass cleaner, do you?” Moreen figured the woman did, since she had a fantastic collection of knickknacks that she was always polishing.

  “Why yes, I do. Did you buy something new?” Her eyes brightened with interest and Moreen winced.

  “No, it’s for the center. They have some things there that need cleaning, some… lamps.”

  “Well, of course, dear. How much do you need? Anything to help your volunteer work.”

  Moreen groaned silently. Her sweet neighbor had no idea of Moreen’s past, of her criminal tendencies, or the fact that her work at the center wasn’t volunteer work, but had been ordered by the courts.

  “Just a little bit would be good.” Moreen waited just inside the door while the woman went to the kitchen, rummaged around from the sounds of it, then came out carrying a small, round tin.

  “This is about half-full. Will that work?”

  “Yes, thank you. What we don’t use I’ll bring back. Thanks so much.”

  “No problem, dear. Just remember to wear gloves. This can cause abrasions on your beautiful skin.”

  “I will, thank you again.”