“Now? On the sidewalk?”
“There are things you need to know.”
Aziza quickly and quietly laid out the events of the night before as people walked by, oblivious. She told him everything. Finding the girl—though she had no idea who she was—what she’d said, the other murders, even the fact that she was getting glimpses into the Niyr and Jinn worlds.
She wasn’t sure why it all came out to him when she hadn’t been able to tell Brandon. Maybe because she knew he had no one to report back to and no room to judge her.
Because it was Ram.
Ram’s expression was thoughtful. “You know I would rather flay myself alive and serve my organs to my enemies than admit this, but Brandon has a point. The blood draining? The designs carved into the bodies? That’s more Jinn than Niyr. Even Razia let Harash do the dirty work while he directed from a distance. In fact, it sounds like—what would you call it in English?—soul casting. Something that was forbidden ages ago.”
He frowned. “I wish I’d been able to see one of the bodies. I might recognize one or two of the symbols. But if the Enforcers follow their usual procedures, all the remains will have been cremated and their human detectives will have handed over any detailed pictures. No traces left for curious human eyes.”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the building, waiting until they were alone in the lift to speak. “What is soul casting?”
“It was a kind of a ritual. A spell that required sacrifice and blood. The priests of Qaf and our current leaders don’t like to talk about it, but there was a time when we lived through something similar to your Dark Ages. We didn’t have the balance we do now between war and peace, art and ignorance, mysticism and the sciences.” Ram noticed her stunned expression and smirked smugly. “Reports of my inattentiveness have been greatly exaggerated. Shev was an overachiever, yes. She was…” he stopped smiling, “…well, she was what she was.”
This was the first time he’d mentioned her name since they’d left the Stewarts’ country manor. The first time he’d really talked to Aziza in what felt like forever.
A part of her wanted to stop the lift, stop time and keep him talking. She knew she’d missed him, but she hadn’t realized how much. She wished it hadn’t taken murder to get him communicating again. “So there is some kind of purpose to the killings? A goal other than anarchy? What would Razia, or any Jiniyr, hope to gain by performing that kind of ritual?”
Ram shook his head. “I don’t know. But I do know they’re not getting what they want.”
Dread tightened her throat. “Why do you say that?”
“This ritual was so powerful it was only done once a decade. Maybe twice. Three bodies in as many weeks has to mean they aren’t sure what they’re doing. Which makes sense, since all we have now are stories. Artwork that depicts the ritual. They haven’t gotten it right yet, but they’re obviously practicing until they perfect the recipe.”
The lift had stopped and Ram was holding open the door as he spoke, but Aziza was having a hard time moving her feet. They were practicing on innocent women. What the hell were the twisted bastards planning and what did it have to do with her?
Ram frowned. “Aziza, are you okay? I would help you more but I don’t have access to the information. I can’t even ask around since any Jinn who sees my cuff knows to ignore me.”
She stepped out of the lift and looked at him suspiciously. “Won’t you get in trouble for telling me all this?”
“You’re concealed and I’m in exile. As long as I don’t commit an unforgivable act, I’ll eventually be pardoned. Until then, I’m not bound by the laws of Qarin or warrior.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “Besides, I’m your hero, remember? If I’ve watched enough movies to learn anything, it’s that this is what heroes do.”
She’d forgotten how dangerous the charming Ram could be to her equilibrium. “Are you coming in?”
He shook his head. “With you and your boyfriend fighting and Enforcers outside guarding the flat? He’d be here before I could sit down. It isn’t a good idea for any of us at the moment.”
He had a point. “Ram? You said you knew the first two victims. How well?”
His lashes lowered and a muscle twitched at his jaw. “I played them.”
Fuck. “Recently?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped away from her. “They both asked for me days before they disappeared.”
“Damn it, Ram.” That was information the Enforcers obviously didn’t have. If they did, he would already have been in their custody. “Do you have any idea why the Jiniyr are trying to set you up?”
His eyes blazed as he studied her. “Just like that, precious Aziza? No doubts? No worries my darker, demonic Jinn side got the best of me and I joined the Jiniyr out of spite?”
She leaned against the door. “You are many things—a lover of shortcuts, impatient, demanding, a sexual deviant—but you didn’t kill those girls. I know it. We have to find out who did before the werewolves decide you’re the most convenient suspect.”
“We? Are you asking for more of my help?”
She shook her head. “You’re asking for mine. Greg and I will see you tonight.”
“Tonight?”
She sent him a smile that darkened his emerald eyes. “West invited us to Underbridge. Since he’s been such a good friend to you, I couldn’t turn him down. And now? You’ve invited me to play.”
Ram lifted one eyebrow. “Did you accept? Did we negotiate terms?”
Aziza bit her lip. “What was it you said in the garden? No limits? No rules? But let’s make it something public, make sure everyone can see.”
His smile was wicked. “It pains me more than you know to point out that the Jiniyr would never come after you, Fireborne. They want you alive.”
“Maybe. If this blood ritual has anything to do with the reason they want me, then as soon as they get it right they’ll be after me anyway. But even if it doesn’t, I know the dynamics of a club like this. Up until now I’ve just been watching, a member but still an outsider. The other women will confide in me—trust me—if they see that I’m one of them.”
Ram chuckled. “Clever. I’m assuming you want me to top you and not the other way around. That is what I’m known for there.”
“Yes.” Oh yes.
“Are you sure you are ready for my brand of play, Aziza?” He moved closer, his voice lowering. “This won’t be lighthearted make-believe or a simple spanking. Not if we’re doing this right. If we’re putting on a show. The other girls were used to harder play, asked for it, but you haven’t experienced as much of that as they had. Are you willing?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “We should practice. Say ‘Yes, Sir’.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And as much as I love it…” his smile was sensuality and sin, “…if I’m going to maintain my infamous control, you are not allowed to wear your schoolgirl outfit. Wear something restrained—for you. I’ll put everything else together.”
“I can do that.”
“What was that?”
Aziza inhaled. “I mean, yes, Sir.”
He backed away with a grin, heading back to the lift. “I love how that sounds. The game is afoot, Ms. Lane.”
“Way too much cable television.” She laughed breathlessly as she unlocked her door. “And you should know it’s a sacrilege to confuse Superman with Sherlock. The detective doesn’t wear tights.”
She refused to think about why she was smiling. Why she was breathless with anticipation, her body heating with an arousal she didn’t want to examine too closely.
Ram was going to play her tonight.
Chapter Four
Aziza was in the shower, getting ready for her night at the club and still thinking about him. Ram was back to being his wickedly irresistible self, and right now thinking about him was better than thinking about what she’d received in the mail today. What was even now
waiting on the bed for her to open.
She’d thought she would be, but she wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. She would rather think about anything else. She would rather think about Ram. Their confrontation at The Hangar. The ride home.
Their plans for tonight.
She was still with Brandon—she’d chosen to be with Brandon—and Ram was the exiled Qarin who’d ignored her the last time she went to Underbridge to see him. Instead of talking to her, he’d played a scene onstage where he “granted wishes” with paddles and a cat-o’-nine-tails to multiple women as she watched.
Was that the kind of play he was talking about? Whips?
Aziza shivered and pressed her thighs together. She’d thought then that watching him was her penance. Her own personal torture. And Ram had taken that opportunity to show her what she was missing. To remind her that she had her own needs that weren’t being satisfied.
But they were. She was satisfied. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t arranged a scene since she’d been with Brandon—until tonight. And maybe she hadn’t dressed in her favorite schoolgirl outfit, the one that, when combined with her youthful Stewart appearance, had driven her past play partners wild.
The one Ram had forbidden her from wearing for their scene.
She’d missed the adrenaline of playing at a club, but that was all. Brandon was more than willing to fulfill her needs at home. Dominant enough to drive her wild with desire for him. She might be mad at him, but she wasn’t lacking in that department. She didn’t need anything else. Anyone else.
You don’t want to need more. But you do. You also need answers.
Fuck, she was crazy to do this. She could have chosen someone else. A human. A woman. Someone that Brandon wouldn’t kill if he found out they’d touched her.
But Ram was as much a link between the victims as Underbridge was. He had to be the one who played her.
Ram will give you what you really need. He knows you, knows a Fireborne craves experience. He would share you.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. She was going to find answers and stop the Jiniyr. It had nothing to do with Ram. Nothing to do with sex.
Liar.
She didn’t need her abilities to know that he wouldn’t hold back tonight. That he would punish her for making him wait. He’d told her as much. And the ways he could punish her were suddenly all she could think about. How he would make her pay for putting him off. For pretending that nothing had happened between them. For choosing someone else over him.
He would share her if she wanted him to.
The fantasy began to form in her mind before she could stop it, and she slid her hand down her wet stomach and between her thighs in search of relief.
In her mind she was on the main stage at Underbridge, and the dance floor was crowded with people watching with hushed anticipation. A single desk from the Classroom, one of the playrooms at the club, shone in the spotlight.
Ram stood beside it, waiting for her. He was in charge here. He made the rules. He crooked a finger at her and then pointed to the floor in front of the desk. Aziza didn’t hesitate to obey. She knew what was coming. Even when he turned her to face the desk without a word and pressed his palm against her back until she was forced to bend over, she knew. And she wanted it.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Aziza,” Ram intoned. “Bad enough to wear this outfit when I told you not to. Bad enough that I’ve kept you after class to teach you a different kind of lesson.”
Aziza trembled. “What kind of lesson?”
She could hear the smile in Ram’s voice. “You’ll see. Now lift up your skirt for me.” When she did, he gave an exaggerated gasp of surprise from behind her. “No panties, Miss Stewart? You are begging to be punished, aren’t you? This lesson might take longer than I thought.”
“I didn’t know—”
“Didn’t know you’d be caught?” He placed both hands on her ass, his touch so light she could barely feel it. “Didn’t know I’d see what you’ve done?”
She nodded, her hair spread across the desk, hiding her heated face from view, and Ram chuckled. “Little liar. You can’t keep secrets from me, sweet Aziza. I always know. I’ve seen the way you look at me in class. The way you tighten your legs and squirm in your seat when I lean over your shoulder to check your work. You may be dating that dog of a linebacker, but he obviously hasn’t given you what you really need. He can’t teach you the way I can. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you didn’t silently wish I would keep you after school. Tell me you aren’t a bad girl.”
She couldn’t. She could hardly speak as the arousal spiked in her body, allowing only a whimper to escape. It was all the answer he needed. His grip firmed in approval and he pinched both her cheeks so hard she shouted in surprise.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now, do I have your full attention, Miss Stewart?”
“Yes.” Oh fuck yes.
Aziza’s fingers were instantly coated with her own arousal as she caressed the lips of her sex while the shower beat down on her. She had to let the fantasy continue. She wanted it too much to stop.
She saw her “professor” grab his ruler, the same one he often snapped against his palm when he was speaking in class, making her shiver. Making her wonder how it would feel on her skin.
She found out. The flat of it landed with force on one bare cheek, then the other. Again and again. Deliciously hard, it stung her cheeks, sending warmth out to every part of her body. Sending a rush of wet heat between her legs. She knew it would be like this.
Aziza lifted her hips higher, hoping for more.
“Bad girl,” Ram rasped. “So greedy for it, aren’t you? Does your boyfriend pretend he knows what you like? Does he spank you just enough to get you ready for his cock? Does he know how you dream of being filled front and back at the same time? How greedy you are?”
She tried to answer but he swore from behind her. “Don’t tell me. You’re with me now and I don’t care. Spread your legs, Miss Stewart. Yes, like that. Now ask for it. Ask for more, nicely. Say please.”
She wanted to resist him. Wanted not to be so turned on. He wasn’t hers. She had a boyfriend. A good boyfriend.
But she wasn’t a good girl. “Please, Sir. I need more. I’ve been bad and I deserve more.”
“Yes you do, Aziza. And I’m the only one who can give it to you.” Ram tugged her back to a standing position, taking a seat on the desk in front of her.
“Wha-what are you doing?” Wasn’t he going to spank her again? Why had he stopped?
Another voice, identical to Ram’s, spoke up from behind her. “Giving you what only I can, Miss Stewart.”
Two of him? There were two of him? His Jinn abilities must be back.
The Ram on the desk had unzipped his pants and wrapped his fist around his bare, flushed erection, gripping it tightly. “Now I want you to suck my cock while I spank you.”
The crowd gasped, reminding her of their presence, and the Ram standing behind her laughed with delight. “Consider it a lesson in Jinn physics, Aziza. Bend over, lift up that tease of a skirt again and show these people what a talented mouth you have. How badly you want to be disciplined. Do a good job, Miss Stewart. Impress me. This will be on the test.”
Aziza did as she was told, bending over with a hand on either side of his hips, closing her eyes when she wrapped her lips around the head of his shaft. He tasted so good she moaned.
The Ram on the desk grabbed a handful of her hair and held it tightly, roughly, guiding her to take him deeper. More. “Remind you of anything, sweet Aziza? It certainly brings back fond memories for me.”
It did. He’d done this to her when Brandon was inside her. Done this when he had his powers and she was the only one who could see him.
The other Ram spoke, his voice low with lust. “Are you learning now? I know how bad you really are. How perfectly, deliciously bad. I know your darkest fantasies and I can give them to you. No rules. No holding back. I want you exactly the way you are. Ah, you l
ike that. Look how wet you are. I told you that you were a naughty girl.”
The ruler came down again and she moaned against the flesh filling her mouth. He knew. He always knew. She focused on taking more of him into her mouth, on the piercing pleasure of the blows against her skin.
“You aren’t human, you know.” Ram spoke over the sounds of the ruler smacking against her thighs. “Even humans need more than they allow themselves. They spend their lives striving to emulate werewolves. To mate. To be monogamous. And they fail again and again because their minds are closed to having more, to allowing themselves new experiences.”
The Ram on the desk lifted his hips against her mouth, groaning when he filled her completely. “You are Fireborne. You are all of us and none of us. You need more.”
She could hardly take in what he was saying, but suddenly she didn’t want to play anymore. Couldn’t hold back what was inside her. She was on fire.
“Head of the class, Miss Stewart,” Ram groaned. “Lesson one, a Fireborne has to burn.”
The audience was cheering as Aziza lifted her mouth to look down at her body. It was covered in the hot, blue-white fire that she’d been learning to control. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” the Ram behind her countered, completely unaffected by the blaze as he continued to spank her. “You don’t have to hold back here. With me. In this classroom you can deny what you feel for me about as well as you can deny what you are.”
He stopped spanking her long enough to slip his fingers inside her sex and moaned at what he found. “Fireborne is justice, yes, but also power. Power is a passion that, when too long restrained, will blaze out of control…will turn to darkness. You need me. Need what I can give you. Need this and more.” He raised his voice so everyone could hear. “I think she’ll also need help with this final lesson. Can I have two more volunteers?”
The Ram who was sitting on the desk, his erection still wet from her attention, gripped her hands to hold her still and gestured with his chin for her to look over her shoulder. “I believe we’re ready to begin.”
Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 Page 7
