Lust Eternal (5 page)

Aimalee settled back, back into Keeshan’s arms, delighting
in the power of those bands of steel wrapped around her, strong and warm and
gentle all at the same time. She closed her eyes and drew in the perfume of his
garden, listened to the drone of bees as they flitted from flower to flower.

Yes, there was guilt. First of all for being here, for not
being there to do her job, for letting everyone down at the most important
phase of her career. And probably most significantly, there was her guilt over
enjoying this time with Keeshan. She hadn’t always enjoyed being with Carter.
He made her feel unworthy somehow. Unattractive but functional, like a cog in
his grand machine. Whereas Keeshan made her feel important. At home,
comfortable in her skin. Happy to be who she was.

And he made her feel other things too.

Perhaps it was the magic of this realm—wherever it was—or
perhaps it was simply the magic of this man, but when she was with him, Aimalee
felt desired and protected and as though everything was simply right with the
world.

Besides, according to Keeshan she was here until the
lamp—some inscrutable cosmic decision maker—decided she could go. She might as
well make the best of it.

She would think of it as a vacation. Yes. A lovely vacation
in a tranquil resort with the most delicious, seductive lover at her every beck
and call. She giggled and his arms tightened a bit. She snuggled deeper, enjoying
the lick of the sun on her skin, the thrum of his heart against her cheek.

“Tell me about this place.”

He stiffened at her request but then he sighed and the
tightness dissolved. “It is my prison.”

Aimalee glanced up at him. Dear heavens. What a handsome
face. Though pain etched every line. “Your prison?” She offered a smile but he
didn’t respond in kind. Her heart contracted and she nestled her head back into
his shoulder. “What did you do to deserve prison?”

He pressed his lips tight. At long last he sighed and said,
“I angered a very powerful man.”

“So he sent you here?”

“He condemned me to this place, yes.”

She grinned. “It is rather lavish for a prison.”

Keeshan’s laugh was harsh. “There are many kinds of torment.
The least of them is austerity. In truth, I would have preferred a short stay
in a wretched dungeon or a quick end to a miserable life.”

“Have you been here very long?”

He made a little sound in his throat, a growl perhaps, and
bent his head to capture the sensitive flesh of her neck between his lips. He
sucked and a twang of arousal shot through her. She wriggled against him in
protest—which was really something less than an objection—so he made his way up
her abdomen to cup her breast, thumb a nipple. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

She captured his hand with her own. “I do. How long have you
been here?”

He buried his nose in her hair and breathed deeply. “Too
long.” His lips trailed over her shoulder to the back of her neck. Shivers of
delight skittered down her spine.

“How long?”

“Aimalee. Please do not ask about this.”

She could sense his resolve, see it in his lips, his eyes.
Still, she scooted out of reach and frowned at him determinedly. “I want to
know.”

He followed. “Aimalee, I want you. I need you. I’ve been
without a woman for far too long.”

She blew out a laugh and edged away again. “You just had a
woman. Just a little while ago. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Again he followed her, pursuing her around
the fountain. “But the spell…it rides me. As long as you are near, I am compelled
to want you.”

A sudden hard and heavy ball dropped into her gut and the
game lost all its appeal. Aimalee stood, stepped away and glared at him.

Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did she have to want
him like this? All his enticing words and tempting seductions served but one
purpose.

His release.

Nothing more.

Nothing romantic or meaningful or lasting. They certainly
didn’t spring from some soul-deep connection. She was an idiot for even
imagining that.

His brow, that beautiful brow, furrowed. He stood as well
and stepped closer.

She placed a palm on his chest—ignoring the wicked warmth of
his slick skin—and pushed. He was far stronger than she, could easily have
overpowered her pathetic resistance. But he didn’t. He stepped back the length
of her arm but only that far.

She choked back something suspiciously like a sob.

“Aimalee? What is it?”

“It’s not really me you want, Keeshan.” The truth of the
matter was—no matter how
wanted
he managed to make her feel—he didn’t
really want
her
. It was all the damn spell. He just needed a female to
ease his hunger. Any female would do. She should have known. She should have
seen it.

“What?”

“You said as much yourself. The spell makes you want me. I
could be any woman.” She strolled to the balustrade but it was more to create
distance than to enjoy the view. He trailed in her wake. “You would want any
woman so long as she was here.”

“Not like this!” His frown darkened. “I have never wanted a
woman like this.”

“Liar.”

He reeled back as though she’d slapped him. “I’ve done many
things in my life, Aimalee, of which I am ashamed. But I have never lied. Not
to you. Not to anyone.”

She rounded on him, arms crossed over her chest, quivering
with outrage and, to be truthful, not a small amount of pain. “You always tell the
truth?”

“Yes!”

“Then tell me what you did that angered that powerful man.”

Keeshan paled.

“Who was he?”

His lips worked as though he needed to build up the
fortitude to utter the name hovering on his tongue. At long last, he said,
“Duvalli. The Dark Djinn.”

Aimalee gasped. “The Dark Djinn? From the Ashkahnary Fable?”
It was a famous tale from ancient Arkett, of a poor and humble man who had
unwittingly discovered the scrolls of the Great Ashkahnary Wizard in the
desert. He had sacrificed all—even his family—to become the most powerful
magician of his time. According to the fable, the power had corrupted his soul.
He had become dark. Evil. Irredeemable.

Keeshan scrubbed his face with a palm. “It is no fable.”

Aimalee stepped closer, suddenly fascinated. The study of
ancient Arkett was her passion. Like the mythic Atlantis, archeologists and
historians enjoyed debating the existence of the desert country that had ruled
the pre-ancient world. And since little evidence other than anecdotal scrolls
had been found, most assumed it was merely a myth.

But in a recent dig, Aimalee had found the site, excavated
and recovered key artifacts proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Arkett had
existed. She’d written a dissertation to prove it. The myth of the Dark Djinn—the
man who ruled the empire with an iron fist and whose wrath over an unforgivable
betrayal had caused the great sandstorm that consumed the entire civilization
in minutes—had not been included.

“Have you met him? This Dark Djinn?”

Keeshan scowled. “Why are you so fascinated?”

Aimalee shrugged. “I’ve studied him. He is interesting.”

He paled. Right down to his lips. “He is evil, Aimalee. Do
not even think about him.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “I’m not afraid of
him.”

“You should be.”

“Does he ever come here?”

“No. I am far too insignificant.”

“Not so insignificant that he forgot about your
transgression. What was it that you did again?”

He glowered. “No. He has not forgotten about me. He never
will. And while he doesn’t come here, I am occasionally called to have an
audience with him.”

“Really?” She tipped her head to the side. “What’s he like?”

“You do not want to meet him.”

“I kind of do.”

Keeshan lurched forward and grabbed her by both shoulders,
yanking her closer. Heavens. Was that panic in his eyes? “Don’t say that.
Please. You do not want to come to his attention. He would destroy you.”

His intensity gave her pause. If the Dark Djinn did exist—as
Keeshan claimed—and if he had the power to destroy a civilization within
minutes, he was a force to be reckoned with.

She knew she was allowing the image of this fanciful
creature to overshadow the bald truth. The Dark Djinn had way too much power
and he was not a nice guy. She probably didn’t want to meet him.

“Is he truly all-powerful?”

“No one is all-powerful. Even the Dark Djinn answers to
someone.”

“And who does he answer to?”

Keeshan shrugged and glanced away.

“Who?”

“The Great Djinn.”

“The Great Djinn of Ashkahnary?”

He nodded.

“Have you ever met him?”

His response was a barked laugh. “No one meets the Great
Djinn of Ashkahnary.”

“But he is all-powerful?”

“I don’t know if he is all-powerful but he is pretty damn
powerful.”

“He could send me home.”

“Yes.”

“He could send you home.”

“I no longer have a home.”

“What?”

He raked his hair. “Every person I knew died two thousand
years ago. Every building I ever stepped into has long since crumbled into
sand. Coasts have washed away. Hilltops have flattened. What is home, other
than that?”

She reached for him. “Oh, Keeshan. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t.” He frowned. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I cannot bear
it.”

“Tell me what you did.”

He turned his back on her in favor of the dark shadow of his
memory. His heartbeat pulsed in the silence between them. After a long pause he
said in a small voice, “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Was it so bad?”

“Yes!” He whirled on her and she took a step back, horrified
by the pain and regret in every line of his body. “Yes. I deserve every second
of my incarceration. Every punishment. Every torment.”

A cold ball curled in Aimalee’s chest. “Did you kill
someone?”

He winced. He didn’t answer right away. But then he didn’t
have to. She could read the answer in his eyes.

At long last he muttered, “I killed lots of men. I was a
warrior.”

“But that’s not why you’re here?”

He snorted a laugh. It was not a happy sound. “No. I made
the ultimate mistake.” His lips worked. “I-I fell in love.”

“With whom?”

His Adam’s apple made the torturous journey up and down his
neck. “His sister.”

“He had a sister?” Somehow she’d never expected that. But
then the Dark Djinn had been a man. Once.

“It was beyond betrayal. He was my teacher. My friend. He
welcomed me into his home, gave me a seat at his feet, taught me, trusted me.
And I…seduced her.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Straight down to the soul.”

“And you loved her?”

“Beyond sanity.”

“Did she love you?”

A flicker of longing flitted through his eyes. “I think so.
I hope so.”

“You don’t know?”

“I… When Duvalli found out about us, he banished me, ripped
us apart. I tried to get back into the palace but his magic was too strong. I
never saw her again. I never…never got the chance to tell her…”

“What happened to her?”

His features turned to stone. His shoulders shook. His aura
vibrated with tightly held energy, agony, pain. He blew out a great breath,
whispering on the cusp of it, “She died.”

The words cut through the air like a knife. Aimalee cringed
at the import. He stood before her, this great hulking bear of a man, utterly
bereft and there was nothing she could do to ease his pain. She placed a hand
on his shoulder nonetheless. His flesh rippled in response.

He swung around, fury flaring. “Loving me, he told me, ended
her life. So you see? His punishment for me? See how fitting it is? Century
after century he sends me a woman, a woman I am compelled to want. Compelled to
seduce. But never really have. Each one a reminder of what I did to him. What I
took from him.” He stilled, stared out at the shushing sea. “It is a punishment
that shall never end.”

Aimalee enfolded him in her arms, hoping, somehow, to soothe
his soul. No one deserved to suffer like this. Not for a day. Not for a year.
Not for centuries upon centuries without end. Forever.

So she held him. And he wept.

Once he recovered from his outburst, Keeshan sat still in
Aimalee’s arms, more than a little mortified.

What was wrong with him? He’d never shared his story. Not
with anyone.

He’d certainly never broken down and cried like a child.
Could it be he was becoming addled in his old age? That this interment was
beginning to break him down, destroy him, drive him mad, as the Dark Djinn had
always taunted would be his destiny?

Keeshan did not care for this prospect.

Sometimes his strength of spirit was the only thing he had
left in this shell of a life. He couldn’t bear to lose that.

And the tangled wash of emotion he had whenever he thought
of Aimalee—he didn’t like that at all. Despite his vow to keep his distance
from this woman—his emotional distance at least—he was sinking and sinking
fast, wavering between his tattered guilt, the sharp edge of the lamp’s lust
and something else entirely. Something tender and tempting and utterly
terrifying. She was a threat to his sanity, a threat to his guarded heart. He
was an idiot to creep closer.

But somehow he was unable to resist that slow slide.

There had to be something he could do. Something he could
try.

If only he did not have the option of the damn incantation,
that tiny little spell that could force her into his arms. The gods knew he
didn’t have the strength to resist the temptation. But if she could, if
she
could walk away, if
she
could remain distant. Maybe that would make life
bearable when she finally left.