by Sabrina York
All of them.
All of them.
His lips curved into a smile that bubbled into a laugh. A joy unlike anything he had ever known washed through his body, releasing two thousand years of stress and anger and pain. And it was the most wonderful feeling he’d ever known.
When the last visage appeared on the screen, he knew who it would be. But the mirror, as always, was a trickster. Instead of showing Aimalee’s face, it showed the two of them sitting on the throne, a mere reflection. And then it faded to black.
Keeshan could tell from Aimalee’s posture, from the loose way she held her body, she had not realized she’d been included in the litany. But she had been.
She cuddled closer, watching him in silence as the emotion swirled through him. The pure joy of this moment. The weight of her in his arms. Her warmth. Her breath, live and warm on his cheek.
Aimalee.
Circe.
He bent his head and for the first time in two millennia, knowingly kissed the woman he loved above life itself.
And it was divine.
She kissed him back, tender little dabs that did not take long to change into something far more fervent.
And when the passion rose in him, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was passion for her. It had nothing to do with any spell, any incantation or any curse. It was the passion of a man for the woman he loved. And it was pure.
To his dismay, she pulled back. She put her palm on his cheek and held him still, held him at a distance and stared at him.
She was so beautiful. He couldn’t help smiling at her. Or perhaps it was a giddy grin. He didn’t know and didn’t care. “What is it?” he asked.
“They were all so…lovely.”
“Yes.” He removed her hands and kissed her again.
“Was Circle as lovely?”
“Lovelier. But none of them is a match for your beauty.”
She snorted. He loved how she snorted. Her bangs fluffed up in the air. “Oh please.”
“I am serious, Aimalee. You are the loveliest of them all.”
She made a sour face. “Isn’t that the mirror’s line?” And when his brow furrowed, she shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Aimalee, there is something you need to know.” He debated whether or not to tell her but only for a heartbeat. She deserved to know the truth. It was her truth, after all.
“What?”
“Each of those women, each of Circe’s incarnations, they all came to the lamp. To me.”
She stiffened. “All of them?”
He nodded, watching her, gauging her reaction. He could tell she hadn’t figured it out yet. “They were all beautiful and I loved each one.” She tried to pull away but he pulled her right back into the circle of his arms. “They were all you.”
“Me?” She blinked. “I don’t…”
And then comprehension dawned.
“Yes. It’s you.” He kissed her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose. “You are Circe.”
She shook her head. Tears puddled and then eased down her alabaster cheeks. Her lips worked as though she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what. Then she peeped, “Are you sure?”
“Certain. Absolutely certain. We’ve been together before, my love. And no matter what happens, we will be together again. Forever.” He drank her in, still reeling with the truth of it. “We never lost each other. And we never will.”
And though the passion was riding him, though his cock was nudging against her thigh, and while she would not have put up any resistance to a kiss, he didn’t kiss her.
He wanted nothing more than to sit here and hold her. Hold her in his arms and feel the blood pulse in her veins, watch the breath lift her breast, feel the hum of her incredulous murmurs as she contemplated this revelation and accepted its truth.
There would be time for passion later.
They had forever.
Chapter Seventeen
He waited until she fell asleep to visit Duvalli. For one thing, he couldn’t bear to leave her when she was awake. Their time together was coming to an end and he wanted to savor each second. Each kiss. Each caress. It was going to have to last him a long, long time in a world devoid of her brightness.
The other reason he waited was he didn’t want to have to explain why he was going once more to visit his greatest enemy. He certainly didn’t want to share the painful decision he’d come to.
Aimalee wouldn’t understand.
But Keeshan knew, to the depth of his soul, he knew. This was something he had to do.
The realization had dawned as he’d watched her eat dinner, oohing and aahing over her favorite foods and explaining each one and her passion for it, before forcing a bite into his mouth. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he couldn’t taste a thing.
Watching her laugh, hearing her talk about her life at home, her world, made him realize keeping her here was wrong. As much as he wanted to have her by his side forever, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.
He had to send her home.
She was his Circe. His love. She deserved a long, full life. A real life. Not this half-life in a gilded cage.
He had to send her home.
And Duvalli would know how to do that.
At least Keeshan prayed he would.
He was determined to find a way to free her.
And to hell with the consequences.
The mist lasted longer than usual and when Keeshan stepped through into the cold stone chamber, Duvalli was just seating himself on his throne, making Keeshan wonder what he had been doing. With annoyance he noticed that the curtain to the alcove where his sister stood was swinging slightly.
He frowned.
“Gads, Sir Keeshan.” Duvalli rolled his eyes. “I pine for the days of old when I saw you but once a century.” He inspected his fingernails. Who knew a two thousand year old Djinn could have such extraordinarily fascinating fingernails? “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Again?”
“How is Lisette?”
Duvalli frowned. “She’s fine,” he spat.
Keeshan strode over to the alcove and yanked the curtain back so he could see for himself. His sister stood there, still as always, though her arms now hung down by her sides. Her lips were bee-stung and her stony features dewy. Her gown was slightly mussed.
“Never say I interrupted something.” The thought send acid churning in his gut.
“Close the curtain. You’re embarrassing her.”
Keeshan stilled. That Duvalli had a care for Lisette’s embarrassment meant the bastard might have a shred of feeling for her. His gaze flicked back to his sister. This was not the expression of a woman in torment. In fact, she almost looked like a woman in love.
That thought didn’t sit well either.
He dropped the curtain and spun on Duvalli. “Do you use an incantation on her?”
Duvalli boggled with outrage. “What?”
“You heard me. Do you use magic to lure her into your bed?”
The Dark Djinn snorted. “You don’t understand anything, do you?”
Intrigued by the thread of desperation in Duvalli’s tone, Keeshan strolled closer to the dais and bent down to scratch one of the slobbery hellhounds behind his ear. The beast groaned in canine bliss and then, when Keeshan stopped, nudged his hand with a wet snout. “What do you mean?”
“I told you she turns to stone when my emotions are roused.”
“Your anger. Your rage.”
“Idiot.” They glared at each other and then Duvalli glanced away. “I was never angry at her.”
“Then what emotions…” Keeshan’s throat closed up as realization dawned. Undoubtedly, it closed up to hold back the guffaw squirming to burst forth.
“Yes,” Duvalli snarled. “You think you have been in torment for hundreds of years? Try being trapped in a chamber with a beautiful, willing woman. And every time, just when things are beginning to get interesting, just when she is perfectly primed…”
/> “She turns to stone.” Keeshan grinned, suddenly immensely gratified.
“You needn’t smirk.”
“You’ve never, ever…” Unsure what words to use in the reference of one’s sister, Keeshan made a flourishing gesture.
“Known your sister? No.”
“Never once? In all this time?” His chuckle blossomed into a laugh. It threatened to burst into a howl. The lightness on his soul was delicious.
Duvalli shifted his weight to the edge of the throne, like the predator he was, and growled, “Was there a reason you came to see me? Or is this simply a social visit?”
“Yes. Indeed.” It was a struggle to keep his tone casual. “I have found her. I have found Circe.”
The Dark Djinn bolted upright. His mouth dropped open and he gaped at Keeshan. He quickly recovered himself though his skin was pale and a muscle ticked in his cheek. “Where is she?”
Keeshan smiled grimly and crossed his arms. “What makes you think I have any intention of telling you? You have tormented me and my sister for millennia. Over a crime I did not commit. I owe you nothing.”
The Dark Djinn’s cheeks mottled. His tattoos began to glow. “You owe me a sister.”
Keeshan gestured toward the alcove. “Not anymore.”
“You must tell me!” A thick fist slammed into the arm of the stone throne. A hairline crack tracked its way across the surface. The hissing scritch of its passage echoed in the cold silence.
“I will not. Not until you tell me how she died.”
“Oh.” Duvalli sneered. “Wouldn’t your little mirror tell you that?”
“It would not.”
“I have to wonder why, since it is so forthcoming with everything else.”
“Perhaps you are meant to tell me. To confess your sins as well.”
“My sins? I have no complicity in this.”
“Don’t you? She loved me. I loved her. You are the one who separated us. Deny it if you will. You are the one who broke Circe’s heart.” He glowered at his nemesis and hissed, “You are the one who removed the love from her life. You are the reason she took her own life.”
Duvalli stilled. “What? Took her own life? Where did you get an idea like that?”
“Why else would you blame me for her death? She was healthy, happy, whole the last time I saw her. What, other than grief over your actions, could have killed her?”
“You don’t know? You haven’t guessed? In all this time? All these centuries? It never once occurred to you how your love could have killed her?”
Keeshan’s gut roiled, his heart pounded, his vision took on a reddish hue. “No. Tell me.”
The Dark Djinn sat back in his chair then and again affected his typical nonchalance, but Keeshan could see it cost him. “You gave her a child, Sir Knight. You gave her a child and she did not survive the birthing of it.”
A dark cloud threatened Keeshan’s consciousness, his sanity. Tiny little stars began to dance around his head. He fought through the miasma, fought through the overwhelming grief and regret swamping him. There was something…something more.
“And the child? Did it survive?”
Duvalli sighed, glanced away. “No. They both perished.”
Unable to hold himself up, Keeshan collapsed onto the stone stairs of the dais. He held his head in his hands and wept. Wept for his lover, his child, for all the lost years he could have had with her. For all the lost years he never would have with her.
With Circe. With Aimalee. They had missed so many lifetimes together. So many children together. So many possibilities, dashed.
And all because of the rage of one powerful man.
It had to end. It needed to end. He had to set Aimalee free. And if she came back to him in her next lifetime and her next…if she came to him a thousand times more, he would release her if he could.
He would find a way.
She deserved better.
She deserved a man who could love her and give her the children she craved—had craved for centuries. Not Carter, but a good man. Keeshan would help her find him. Together they would search. Through eternity if need be.
“Well?” The Dark Djinn’s voice was uncharacteristically tight. “I told you. Now you must tell me. Where is Circe?”
Keeshan glared at Duvalli. “One more thing. I want you to tell me how to send Aimalee home.”
Was it his imagination or did the Dark Djinn pale, just ever so slightly? “Her time is not up.”
“I don’t care.”
“You cannot send her home,” he sputtered.
“I think I can. I think I shall. And you will help me.”
A barked laugh ricocheted through the room. “I will not.”
“Ah, but you will. I know something you do not.”
Duvalli snorted dismissively. “Even if you could send her home, you won’t. The price for breaking the rules is severe. Another century between visitors.” He proffered a nasty smile. “Can you go that long without a woman, Keeshan? I’ve seen how twitchy you get around year ninety-nine.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will. Around year ninety-nine. You are little more than a hound in heat, Sir Keeshan.”
“I disagree. A hound does not love.”
“Never say,” Duvalli said through a snort, “that you love this…consort.”
“I do. I love her.”
“Like you loved my sister?”
“Yes.”
“Faithless cur.”
“Hardly faithless,” Keeshan said. “I have loved Circe devotedly for two thousand years.”
“Fucking other women. Every woman that came within your auspices. Again and again and again.”
Keeshan stood, reinvigorated. “Tell me, Duvalli. Did you never wonder about them? The women the Great Djinn sent to the lamp? Did you never wonder how or why he chose them?”
Duvalli stilled. His nostrils flared as a cold, uncomfortable realization began filtering through his thick skull. “No.”
“Yes. Oh yes. They were all Circe. One incarnation after another. And in each incarnation, each of her many lives, she came to me. She loved me.” He wandered across to the table and poured himself a drink. “How does it feel, knowing that even as you punished me, you were punishing her?”
“No. It cannot be true. It cannot.”
“It is true. Mirror. Show me Circe.”
Duvalli stared in growing horror as woman after woman, life after life flickered across the surface of his mirror. Each one had Circe’s eyes, her smile, her soul. “No. It cannot be true.”
“But it is.” Keeshan watched the parade of faces, remembering each one, reliving with delight this long, arduous journey. No wonder he’d had to try so hard to resist them. No wonder when he succumbed, he’d fallen so hard. Circle was his true soul mate. She always had been and she ever would be.
He would love her forever. With all his heart.
He would go to hell and back to protect her from being a party to Duvalli’s dark revenge. Whatever it took.
The litany ended with Aimalee’s angelic features and Keeshan’s heart melted just a tad. She was so beautiful. So brave. So…everything.
His everything.
He stroked the mirror even as her image faded.
He glanced at Duvalli, who somehow seemed diminished. Even his two hounds were unaccountably meek, their long snouts buried in their paws.
“Duvalli. Break the enchantment.”
The Dark Djinn growled an epithet.
“Break the enchantment. Send her home.”
“I cannot. It’s not within my power.”
Keeshan’s fingers curled into fists. He took a step forward.
Duvalli cringed. “No. It’s not. You are the one with the power, Sir Keeshan. It’s always been you.” He looked away and muttered, “Idiot.”
“What do you mean, I have the power?”
Duvalli shrugged and angled his entire body toward the wall. “One of the Great Djinn’s jests, I suppose. L
ike sending you Circle again and again.” He frowned as he drifted off into thought, chewing on that bitter bone.
“Duvalli! Tell me how to set her free.”
“It’s so simple. I cannot believe you never thought of it.”
“Tell me!”
“Simply draw the incantation backward. Over her heart.” He shrugged. “Simple.”
His pulse flared. “It had better work.”
Duvalli sighed. “I assure you. It will work. But I warn you. If you do this, she will not remember you. All the time she has spent with you will be lost, a vague memory of a long-forgotten dream.”
“I don’t care.” A lie. He did care. He cared a lot. But freeing Aimalee was more important than anything. He only wished he could free his sister too. Only wished he could break the spell for all of them.
But now that he knew the truth, his course was clear. His course was set. He would live forever in the lamp. And when she came to him again in a hundred years—or in two hundred, as Duvalli threatened—he would send her back. And send her back again.
Because he loved her.
And he always would.
Chapter Eighteen
When Keeshan returned to the lamp, Aimalee was sitting on the throne in the mirror room with a big bowl of white fluffs on her lap. “There you are. Where have you been?” she grumbled when he bent to kiss her. She tasted delicious. Like butter and salt and something earthy.
“What are you eating?”
“Popcorn. Want some?” She held up the bowl and he hesitantly took one of the crunchy balls and placed it on his tongue.
She laughed. “Not like that. Like this.” She took a handful and smooshed them all into her mouth, crunching heartily. “Im sk blod.”
“Scoot over.” He seated himself in the overlarge chair and pulled her into his lap, taking a handful of the treats. But he didn’t shove it into his mouth, he simply held it in his hand. “What are you watching?” He had to wait for her response while she chewed and swallowed. Then she took a sip from a red can perched on the arm of the chair.
“I think I’m figuring everything out.”
He stilled. “Really?”
“Yep.” She nodded. The silky tufts of her hair brushed the bottom of his chin. “I figured out the banquet hall. Finally, a decent drink.” She tipped up the can and took another sip. Then belched. “If I ask for specific things, they just appear.”
