Tales of the Djinn: The Guardian (16 page)

“Hm,” said one audience member. “That is a
disturbing tale.”

“I don’t believe it,” declared another. “The
magician had the apprentice where it hurts. He would have given
in!”

“Would he?” the modest servant asked. “What
if the apprentice had been me?”

The eunuch lifted his robes, revealing his
awful scars. His audience gasped, each imagining himself similarly
unmanned. As the servant predicted, he’d succeeded in curdling
their blood. Slowly, one by one, the ifrits began to clap. The
clamor grew and grew until it was noticeably louder than the
applause the proprietor had inspired.

Though he was an evil djinni, the tavern
owner knew what honor required.

“I concede the win,” he said. “Though I do
not see how you will enjoy her, my greatest treasure belongs to
you.”

This treasure was the veiled woman who’d
begged the sultan to save her with the note dropped in his wine
cup. The eunuch accepted the trophy graciously. Then, as quickly as
discretion would allow, the eunuch, the sultan, the artist, and the
commander escorted their prize to the safety of the palace. The
eunuch petitioned the sultan to take the veiled woman as a gift,
which the ruler gratefully did.

For her part, the woman would not agree to be
returned to her home, nor would she tell them where it was. Because
her heart belonged to the young sultan, she swore being parted from
him would be worse than servitude. Knowing such a sensitive woman
must possess noble blood, the sultan asked her to marry him. She
agreed and was revealed to be a beautiful princess. The couple
married and were showered with presents by her royal father, who
had thought his child was dead.

Thus they lived joyfully together, for as
long as it was God’s will.

* * *

Arcadius had been speaking for a while. To
his surprise, Elyse wasn’t asleep yet.

“Very good,” she said with a crooked smile,
“though you might have rushed the romance-y part.”

“It was the eunuch’s tale,” Arcadius reminded
her. “Those events weren’t relevant to him.”

Elyse hummed skeptically. “The eunuch didn’t
get much out of his victory. I felt bad for him. He was so clever
and suffered for so long, and because of a few rash words, he
couldn’t live as a whole man.”

“It
is
sad,” Arcadius agreed. “Though
there is more to life than sex.”

“So says the man who just knocked boots with
me in my shower.”

“I wasn’t wearing— Oh.” He rubbed his chin.
“‘Knocking boots’ doesn’t seem . . . expressive enough for what we
enjoyed.”

Elyse waggled her eyebrows. “It
was
kind of awesome. Probably I should thank you.”

“I’m sure that isn’t necessary.”

“Maybe it is.” She pushed up on her elbow,
her expression serious. “I wasn’t sure when I’d recover enough from
David’s death to want to do that again. You got me over the hump,
so to speak. So . . . thank you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what
about her words nettled him. “You’re extremely welcome,” was the
response he came up with.

Elyse’s lips curved as she put her head on
the pillow and closed her eyes. “Thanks for the bedtime story. I
should probably walk you to the door, but now I’m too sleepy.”

She thought she should walk him to the door?
Arcadius snorted in his head. If she didn’t wish to share her
precious bed, he’d walk himself to her couch, thank you.

~

Elyse woke at the crack of dawn from a
confused dream involving a smoke monster and the commander’s eunuch
servant. The end of Arcadius’s tale truly hadn’t been fair to him.
With all that magic flying around, couldn’t someone have magically
fixed him?

“It’s just a story,” she mumbled to
herself.

Half asleep, she shuffled to the bathroom,
noting only when she finished that it was a shambles. Damp towels
lay everywhere. As she picked them up and hung them to dry, she
found Arcadius’s soggy dress socks and now water-spotted shoes. His
beautiful pale blue shirt, which had been tossed onto the floor and
stepped on, might never recover. His rolled-up belt and watch
perched beside the sink basin.

Wait a second
, she thought. What had
he worn to get home? Arcadius didn’t like the cold. He’d have
grabbed shoes at least before he braved the outside.

Pulling on a Japanese silk robe she’d ordered
through the family firm, she walked quietly to the living room.

Her brand new lover was sleeping on the
couch. That was weird, right? She hadn’t invited him to stay. On
the other hand, she couldn’t deny her pulse skipped with pleasure
at seeing him. Had he been that worried about her nonexistent bump
on the head? Did he, maybe,
like
her more than she’d given
him credit for?

She edged closer. By New York apartment
standards, the old leather couch was big. Arcadius only fit on his
side with his knees drawn up. In the gaps between colorful layers
of throws, she saw he wore trousers. His feet and torso were bare.
Even in sleep, he hunched into himself as if he were cold. His
features were pinched with worry or possibly a bad dream. This
didn’t lessen his handsomeness. He was still the most gorgeous male
she’d ever laid eyes on.

She sat on the same ottoman he’d used last
night, pulled the top blanket higher, and touched his hair
gently.

His amazing eyes opened.

“Good morning,” she said, surprised to sound
so calm. Those eyes of his would give any girl’s heart a
jumpstart.

His gaze sharpened. “What’s wrong?” He sat
up, covers falling from his naked chest. “Has someone tried to get
in?”

“What? No.” He must have woken up confused.
She tore her attention from his six-pack. “It’s morning. You’re at
my place. You fell asleep on my couch.”

He scrubbed his face with one hand. “Sorry. I
didn’t mean to fall asleep. You’re all right?”

“Perfectly fine.”

His gaze dropped to the place where her robe
crossed her breasts. “That’s pretty. You look nice in dark
blue.”

Did she? She must have more color in her
cheeks than usual.

“The gold chrysanthemums are an attractive
touch,” he added.

The flowers were printed on the silk—big,
cheery, shiny bursts of petals. As luck would have it, the bloom
Arcadius seemed fixed on draped her left breast. He shifted on the
couch cushion as if something might be making his pants too tight.
Elyse’s nipples contracted.

“They’re festive,” she said, repressing a
little smile.

His gaze came up to hers. “Please remove your
robe for me.”

Elyse’s blush heated her cheeks like coals.
Seeing this, a grin spread across his face. Slowly, gently, he slid
one hand beneath the robe to mold over her trembling breast. Though
his hand didn’t move, her nipple went fiery.

“I can help you take it off, if you like,” he
offered.

“Uh,” she said, stunned by the effect he had
on her. Shouldn’t his touch be less powerful than last night, now
that it wasn’t new? It seemed not. Delicious sensations coursed
through her, from no more than the warm pressure of his palm.

“No answer?” Arcadius teased. “I suppose I
will have to take charge of you . . .”

~

Asking permission didn’t seem like the right
approach. Arcadius undid the simple belt of Elyse’s robe, quickly
rolled it, and stashed it in his pants pocket for later. The halves
of the robe fell open, baring her centerline. Elyse didn’t tug it
closed.

She was too fascinated by the sight of him
tucking the tie away.

“You’ll see that again,” he promised.

“What?” Her startled gaze flew to his.

Arcadius didn’t answer. He enjoyed teasing
her too much. He slipped the silk from her shoulders and then her
arms, allowing the rest to fall. Her body was as pretty as he
remembered, as perfect and simple. While she gaped at him, he
lifted her from the ottoman and laid her on the couch. Pillows
propped her back, the sofa’s arm supplying a resting spot for her
head.

She tried to sit straighter.

“Stay,” he said. “Relax. I have things I want
to do to you.”

“What things?”

Her suspicious tone amused him. “Things
you’ll enjoy.”

“I—”

“Shh.” He pressed her lips closed with one
finger. The couch was wide enough for him to climb over her on his
knees. He was much bigger than she was. He knew he must appear to
be looming. Elyse’s dark lashes blinked rapidly.

“I’m kissing your neck first,” he warned.

He stroked the graceful column in preparation
for nuzzling it. A few whispering passes of his lips identified the
special hotspot that made her melt.

“Oh,” she said, her hands fluttering to his
back.

He didn’t let that distract him. Instead, he
teased the sensitive area with his tongue and at the same time slid
one hand down her naked side. When he reached her hip, he anchored
it to the couch. The pressure he used wasn’t enough to control her,
but Elyse began to squirm. She didn’t do this to get away—though
perhaps she thought she did. Arcadius knew better. His sensitive
djinn nose told him what she was hoping for.

“Arcadius,” she said breathily. “I don’t
think . . . the couch—”

“—will smell all the better for having your
scent on it,” he purred.

Her cheeks turned as pink as if she’d leaned
near a fire. “Arcadius—”

He pressed his lips to hers to seal the
protest in. “‘Stop now’ are the only words I’m listening to this
morning. Feel free to scream any other ones you like.”

Her cushiony mouth fell open. His mention of
screaming took her aback. Grinning, he kissed a soft trail across
her collarbones, down the satiny hollow between her breasts, and
onto her left nipple. The feel of him sucking there calmed her—more
or less. He knew how to make the nerves of woman’s nipple connect
to lower things. He did so, tickling her with his tongue and
pulling on her sweetness. The fragrance of her arousal rose, her
hips bucking slightly beneath his hold on them.

When her legs started shifting restlessly as
well, he moved to the other breast.

She let out a pleasured noise, her fingers
forking into his hair to keep him where he was. Arcadius’s prick
was about to burst through his trousers, but he didn’t rush his
activities. Her enjoyment was his reward, the gradual loosening of
her spine. Her involuntary undulations grew increasingly
erotic.

Concluding the moment was right to take his
next liberty, Arcadius swung off the couch. Elyse seemed a
different woman as he stood looking down at her, much more sensual
and relaxed. She lolled on the couch rather than simply lying
there.

She didn’t resist as he sat her up and
shifted her body to face forward.

The sofa cushion was deep, and she had room
to lounge back. Arcadius sat on the ottoman facing her. Her green
eyes were hooded, her expression simultaneously secretive and
watchful. He liked that. He wanted her attention on his actions—but
also on what occurred inside of her.

“What now?” she asked in a slumberous
voice.

“This,” he said.

He stroked her thighs up and down, his
pressure gentle but persuasive, until her slightly tense knees
agreed to sprawl. Wanting more of that reaction, he drew her left
foot onto his thigh and then her right. This position exposed her
sex to him, not simply her dark curls but the rosy folds they
protected. Moisture was welling from her, causing them to glisten.
Elyse noticed what he was looking at. She tried to draw her feet
away.

“No,” he said, gently holding her calves
trapped. “Don’t hide. Everything about you is beautiful to me. You
bring me pleasure when you let me watch what I do to you.”

She stopped tugging but bit her lower lip.
With his thumbs, Arcadius drew tiny circles on the sensitive skin
inside the bend of her knees. Elyse’s eyes were round but not
afraid. Nervous, maybe. Her pupils had swollen with arousal.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Arcadius pulled the tie to her robe from his
pants pocket. Her feet rested on his thighs. Pleased that she
wasn’t struggling, he covered their tops to warm them and rubbed
their soles with his thumbs. Elyse’s toes curled with enjoyment.
Judging that she was ready, he wound the length of silk around her
ankles until he’d secured them together.

“Wait,” she said. “You’re binding my
feet
?”

He guessed she’d expected something else.

“You’ll like it. It will change what you feel
when I go down on you. You’ll be able to tug the tie all you want
without breaking it. Also, this leaves your hands free to hold my
head—assuming I’m doing a good job.”

“That’s very practical,” she said
faintly.

“It is. A woman like you with such nice firm
legs might strangle me at my work.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, sensing he was
teasing in spite of his straight face.

Arcadius pushed all eight fingertips up her
thighs. “All right, maybe I shouldn’t call it
work
. More
like a labor of love.”

He slid his thumbs up the groove where her
legs and torso met. One of her muscles twitched as he bent
forward.

“Arcadius,” she said.

He laughed. He knew that tone. She was going
to warn him off. “Elyse, don’t you think you’ll enjoy me doing
this?”

“Yes, but—”

“But?”

She squirmed, and not entirely with
embarrassment. “It’s personal, and it’s only our second time.”

“Is there a rule?”

“No.” She didn’t say
but
this
time.

“I want to,” he said. “I want to take your
taste inside me. I want to hear and feel and cause you to fly
apart. I want that power.” He searched for an appropriate phrase.
“I get off on it.”

She touched the side of his face, stroking a
stray lock of hair behind his ear. “You’re a unique man.”

“Strange, you mean.”