A Genie's Love (The Djinn Series) (2 page)

“No it isn’t!” His brother, equally coated in perspiration, picked her up in his arms. “I’m putting my wife to bed while I decide whether to kill you or not.”

“Tig—”

“Shush, baby, let me finish. As for you, brother, I left expecting you’d ask us for a boat ride, not an impossible wish that you’re not djinn enough to grant on your own.”

Humiliation butchered his spirit, or would have, if not for the tiny lamp that brought a healing hope to his heart.  “Thank her for me. I’ll leave as soon as I can move without falling on my face.”

“You’ll thank me yourself,” Dinah said over her husband’s shoulder. “You can start by finding a chain for that lamp of yours. And don’t let Tig fool you, he’s lost his lamp a time or two.”

True or not, he nodded and turned away at their departure.
Thank you
, felt such a trite thing to say for what she’d done, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Not now. Not while dizzy with the lamp in his hands.

It glowed orange, begging him to enter.

And so, he did.

When he opened his eyes again, blue and gold fabrics enveloped him. Faruq’s fingers dragged along the billowing, silk walls of his small, enormous, home. He’d almost made it to his bed before his emotions overwhelmed him and he collapsed to pillowed floor, shoulders heaving and tears running down his face.

C
assia hopped off the stationary bike, threw her gym bag across her back and jogged downstairs into the lobby.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she answered, not breaking her stride. Cassia’s days started the same as they had for the better part of five years.  She woke up at four, ran to the gym, did a two-hour workout and jogged back through town and country for breakfast.

Well, slight change. Since her sister’s marriage to the genie, er, djinn, she jogged to their home on Saturdays for a scandalously grease filled breakfast. Dinah never failed to deliver and she’d been a firm believer in having one cheat day a week. It hadn’t hurt her yet and it was the kind of thing she suggested to her clients.  She didn’t consider it a break from her routine, just part of it.

And she liked routines.

Her life demanded it. As personal trainer to Galveston’s wealthiest citizens, her afternoon and evening hours were rarely her own. Most stayed true to their schedules, but the rich had their ways. Cancellations and rain checks were par for the gold gilded course. That’s what made the mornings so special. Routine. Perfect. Alignment. Beautiful.

She checked her watch at the corner with the beignet shop.  Right on time. She didn’t stop, never did, but it marked the first quarter of her run. A few more checkpoints lined her path including a lamppost, a tree, a very haunted house, a lake and the gate that led to Dinah and Tig’s home.

The unending, winding path served as the ultimate cool down space. Shaded by low hanging trees, the brackish breeze zipped through the moss and vines waved their scents through the air. Too soon, the walk ended and she stretched her calf muscles on the porch.

She looked up to the door and closed her eyes. “I wish for a huge tumbler of chocolate milk.”

It materialized on the plant stand before she reached the top step.  Tig had other qualities, but this was the absolute best reason to have a djinn for a brother-in-law. She stepped inside and found two of him.

Eww. Did she walk in on some weird, crazy sex wish?
Gross.
She had no idea what happened between her sister and her husband and didn’t want to. Not that she was judging...much. But who twinned themselves?

Wait
.

Cassia shook her head and took another swig of milk before plopping it on a side table.

Nope. Still two.

Almost.

The man next to the smiling Tig was just as tall and just as beautiful. He sported his Tig’s cleft jaw and razor sharp nose. Better muscles though and...older. Maybe. Definitely, a djinn. Magic radiated off of him, heavy like syrup dripping from a tree.  She held out her hand.

“Faruq, this is my wife’s sister, Cassia. Cassia, my brother, Faruq.”

Faruq.
Handsome, strong name for a handsome strong man.

Correction.

Rude man.

The hand she’d had out since Tig opened his mouth stayed in the air. The Too-Impolite-To-Be-Cute one hadn’t taken it. “Are you socially inept or just rude?”

Faruq’s head snapped up and he dropped the necklace he’d been fingering. That’s about when she noticed a heel mark.

“Do you have a footprint on your face?”

“Uh, slight magical miscalculation from yesterday. I’m still recovering. Truly didn’t intend any rudeness. I’m still a little out of it.”

The sincerity in his voice heated her face. Lord knows she understood how jacked up magic could be. She’d been there enough times to know better. “Sorry for snapping. I sometimes have jerkish tendencies. Truce?” She held out her hand again.

And again, it wasn’t taken.

“Seriously?”

Before she finished giving him a piece of her mind, Tig swooped in between them and threw her over his shoulder. “How about a nice family breakfast? I think we can all use something to eat.”

From her sack of potatoes position, she had a clear, if bobbing, view of the handsome boor.  The man’s face tightened, but he bit his lip in something that registered remorse. Okay. Heavy remorse.

Something else was at play here. Tig was a standup brother-in-law and wouldn’t let even the hint of a slight pass if ill will were intended.

Maybe the brother had a phobia about touching.  Maybe something worse. A curse? Between problems, human and Magical, she ran down a list of what this sad looking man might suffer from. She was back to feeling like a douche and tried for an upside down half-smile.

One he kinda, sorta returned as he followed them down the hallway.

Tig abandoned her in the kitchen to help Dinah with the plates. Her sister waved, but went right back to her husband, whispering and looking over his shoulder.
Whatever
. She’d grown used to it and slid into a seat at the table. Faruq took the one opposite and grinned into his coffee. “I can have jerkish tendencies too.”

“Runs in the family, then?”

“As beauty runs in yours.”

“Aren’t you the flirt?” He wasn’t naturally smooth, but she enjoyed watching him try. As if he heard her thoughts, the smile dropped, he grabbed two sugars from the bowl and went back to staring at his coffee. Could the man simply be shy? Hmmm, that was annoying, but curable. “So, Faruq, Tig is a kakillion years old. What about you?”

“A kakillion and one, I suppose. If we’re being precise. How was the milk?”

“That was you? Nicely done. I’d high five you, but you’d probably leave me hanging.”

“I suppose I deserve that.  Maybe I’ll make it up to you with a milkshake next time.”

“I’ll take it. You know, you’re cute when you smile. You should do it more often.”

She didn’t quite get the response she hoped for. Faruq coughed and reached once more for the sugar. She shoved the canister out of the way before he put himself in a coma. Compliments were a no, then.  Dinah and Tig brought stacks of piping hot meats and gooey confections to the table, cutting off a final attempt at common conversation.

Dinah passed around the butter. “Faruq’s staying here for a while. We’re so excited to have him.”

“I hope I’m not imposing too much.”

“You don’t impose,” Tig said, squeezing his hand over his older brother’s. She watched a sad look jump from one man to the other and it left her even more confused. Why did Tig need to comfort him? What on earth was she missing?

She’d never ask. While she hadn’t experienced trauma in her life, there were things her sister and Tig never discussed. They had a look between them and Cassia saw it right now at this table.  She flittered out of the conversation and shoved another slice of pancake into her mouth.

“Right, Cassia?”

“Hmmm?”

Dinah’s eyebrows jerked toward Faruq. “I said, that it might be fun for you to take him out on one of your runs. It’ll be a good way for him to see the city.”

A quick glance to Faruq’s slate blank face didn’t reveal his thoughts on the issue. She aimed for the most noncommittal grunt she could muster and took her half-full plate to the sink, before setting on another pot of coffee.

Every so often, she’d turn to find him staring at her, before quickly looking away. Maybe he hadn’t flirted at all and was only being polite when he talked of her looks. Like a twelve year old, she’d imagined something not there. Fair enough.

A chime indicated a finished pot and she brought the carafe over to the table. She filled Dinah’s cup first, then Tig’s and even Faruq’s. Her arm brushed against his shoulder when she leaned in and...well...all kinds of hell broke loose.

B
linding pain, blinking stars and a million ringing bells assaulted his senses. “What happened? Why am I on the floor?”

Dinah’s hand brushed at his forehead while Faruq tried to get the world to stop twisting. A quick check to the back of his throbbing skull produced blood coated fingers.
What the hell?

“It’s alright, Faruq. Tig told her you passed out from exhaustion. Too much magic, we said. She already started jogging back to her house.”

“Her who...oh...oh...
her
.”

Cassia. Strong, amazing, Cassia. Now he really was grateful to have the floor at his back. He should have known it the moment he saw her. All those years avoiding a woman’s touch, only to have a pot of coffee ruin everything. A new shadow fell across his face. He didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Shut up.”

“I haven’t said anything. Nothing. I could have mentioned my older brother fainting, but I didn’t.”

“Shut up, Tig.”

“...like a little girl at the sight of blood.”

“Tiglathpileser, shut your mouth.”

His brother did shut up then...for a second. “Back before you were passing out, my name on your lips would have had me pissing my pants.”

“It’s her.”

“Figured.” He opened one eye to a hairy thigh. His brother squatted beside him with a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Ah, well. You could do worse than an Authement woman.”

“He’s right. We’re not so bad,” Dinah said from his other side.

A mate. A life’s partner. He’d been down this road before and it’d led him to the gates of hell.

Yes, it
had
happened before... and those sorts of things only occurred once in an existence. She wasn’t his
hamdullah
. That woman died ages ago. “It can’t be Cassia. You know that, Tig.”

“I know she laid you the hell out. I also know that what I have with Dinah, I wouldn’t trade. What you had before, that couldn’t have been this. You got caught up. That’s different than this.”

“Don’t.” Faruq sat up, waving away unwanted hands of assistance.

“I remember
her
, Faruq. You didn’t pass out. You also didn’t love her.”

“Stop it.”

“Who are you trying to convince here?”

What was the alternative? That he’d cared for a woman and had his life nearly ruined by her for no good reason? He laid right back down on the floor and threw his arm over his eyes. “This isn’t happening.”

“It is.”

“This can’t be happening.”

“It is.”

“You are not helping.”

“I am, but I don’t need to tell you that. Do I?”

No. He’d been lonely in those days. Sad and jealous. Too eager to find a partner. And now he possibly faced the real thing and didn’t know what to do with it.

“Take her out for a drink,” Tig suggested, as if reading his thoughts.

“My husband’s right. Maybe you had a super reaction. With all this magic running around, some supernatural wires might have crossed. But you deserve to find out for sure and my sister deserves to know if she is.”

He’d been alone for so long that maybe his imagination had taken hold in sheer desperation. Hell, he could have just been horny. Or could the blame rest on the overstimulating mixture of a beautiful woman, a house with four Magicals and having his lamp back? It could have been anything. Or everything. Or nothing at all.  “No. There’s no point.”

Tig gave him a right and proper Algerian knock to the chest. “Sure.  As long as you’re fine with another man touching her. Can you handle that?  She’s got a lunch date tomorrow, so either you fix this tonight or let it go. But let me say this, she’s not like that whore before. Cassia’s a witch. She knows our kind and our lives. My advice is to put on your big boy panties and get your shit together. Dinah, give him her number.”

“I, uh, don’t have a phone. Hold off on the eye rolling. I’ve never needed one before. I’m not sure I need one now, for all that.”

“Do you want one?”

“Why do you insist on rushing me? Can I have a few seconds to get my brain matter off the floor?”

Apparently not. Tig threw up his hands and stomped out the room with a brusque, “I’m done.” Only the soft-spoken Dinah remained.

“Well, I’m not,” she said, with an outstretched hand and a wink. “I’m tougher than I look. Meaner too. So you’re going to get up and figure this out.”

“Is that a wish or an order?”

She shrugged, then pulled her hair into a bun and grabbed her purse. “Pick one. Scratch that. I wish we were at the mall and, oh never mind, I’ll grab the keys. Be right back.”

In the blessed silence, Faruq sagged against the wall and stretched his back. He’d come here for a lamp, not a wife. Did he believe Cassia was the one?

Not exactly.

Did he want another man touching her?

Well, not exactly that either...

––––––––

O
n the run back home, Cassia stumbled over every stone in the country and received a dozen angry car honks in the city. Her mind’s eye locked on Faruq, leaving her physical ones just sorta dragging three steps behind. But c’mon! What was the man’s problem?

Djinn didn’t have physical medical conditions that she knew of. That didn’t, however, speak to mental strains that might befall any Magical. The next thought that popped into her head landed her straight into a thicket of dead rose bushes. The pain hardly registered.