Tales of the Djinn: The Guardian (9 page)

“‘Sirs,’ interrupted the person they’d
forgotten bringing with them. It was the commander’s eunuch, who
had served him faithfully ever since his first employment.

“‘Yes?’ the commander said, only a little
impatiently.

“‘I wish to point out I am an excellent
raconteur. Also, the account I intend to relate would curdle the
blood of any male, demon or otherwise.’

“‘This could mean your life,’ the commander
reminded him.

“‘Even so,’ said the eunuch, inclining his
clever head.

“Thus it was decided that the commander’s
servant would compete. Speechless with gratitude, the sultan kissed
the young man’s cheeks. The artist promised him the best gift his
genius could devise, if he survived the trial. The commander merely
nodded, out of respect for his servant’s bravery.

“The eunuch only trembled a little as
he—”

A small noise caused Arcadius to lose the
thread of his tale. Elyse’s eyes were closed, her lashes dark and
peaceful against her cheeks. Her head rested on the couch’s back,
her features squashed unselfconsciously on her hand. He watched a
moment longer to be sure but couldn’t doubt she was fast
asleep.

In spite of everything, he smiled. So much
for
his
storytelling skill.

Luckily, her response was just as useful for
his purposes. He slid his arms beneath her knees and behind her
back, lifting her carefully from the couch. She made another noise
as her head fell onto his shoulder. Her weight and warmth were
pleasant, the muscles of her arms and thighs intriguing.

What would it be like to bed such a slight
woman? Would those muscles grip him extra well as he slid inside
her? Would her body supply sufficient cushioning for the vigorous
lovemaking he preferred? Slight or not, she had breasts . . . and
quite a cute bottom. Perhaps her athleticism would enhance both of
their delight.

It might have been smarter not to indulge
this train of thought. As he carried her down the hall in search of
her bedroom, his burgeoning erection made each stride increasingly
difficult. He’d never made love with this body, never even taken
his pleasure privately. He hadn’t exercised his previous form much
better—not in recent memory anyway. All in all, it had been a long
dry spell.

A single lamp lit the back bedroom. Short
wooden spindles marked the corners of her bedframe. The mattress
didn’t seem large to him, though it might have to humans. A pale
blue quilt covered it neatly. Arcadius stretched one hand to tug
this down while still holding Elyse. Careful not to wake her, he
lowered her to the sheets.

“Hate this bed,” she mumbled.

He supposed she might. Whatever her husband’s
flaws, he’d been company. The bed they’d shared must be a reminder
that he was gone. Arcadius pulled the quilt up to cover her. She
slept but her expression was fretful. Telling himself he needed her
to stay unconscious, he brushed her dark hair from her forehead.
Unruly curls had begun to spring up in it. She must comb them
smooth usually.

“What happened t’ the eunuch?” she slurred
without lifting her eyelids.

“Sleep,” he said. “I’ll tell you the rest
another time.”

She rolled onto her side and hugged a pillow.
Satisfied she’d stay, Arcadius turned out the light and left. As he
did, he realized he’d grown even harder and his clothing was
constricted. Gripping his trouser front, he gritted his teeth and
adjusted the aching length of his erection. The discomfort was just
too bad. He was no youth, compelled to satisfy every urge that
arose. The pounding would go away. He’d ignore it until it did. He
had an important search to conduct.

Now that he looked for them, signs that this
wasn’t a typical human dwelling jumped out at him. No wonder he’d
liked Elyse’s living room at first sight. Many of the items he’d
admired were of djinn origin. A charming painting of a bazaar
didn’t depict Istanbul but a market in the Qaf. A small hide drum
was meant to accompany the gyrations of magical houris. A porcelain
dish held hunks of glass that weren’t glass at all but uncut, gem
grade aquamarines. Such stones were common in his homeland but—as
he and Joseph had discovered—quite valuable here. His own people
had made the Aladdin’s lamp that amused him earlier. No one was
trapped inside the brass, but that was beside the point.

This apartment was a treasure trove of djinn
artifacts. Djinn creations sometimes found their way to the human
realm, but there were too many here for the collector to have
stumbled across by chance. One thing Arcadius didn’t find, so far
as he could tell, was the door that matched the nexus in the
cellar. A glance at the watch he and Joseph had purchased with
their gem money told him it was three thirty. Though he hadn’t made
a full inventory, he didn’t dare search longer. He’d risk waking up
Elyse.

She seemed unlikely to fall for a man she
found rifling her belongings.

Reluctantly, he let himself out of her
apartment. He was closing the door as quietly as he could when he
heard someone else doing the same thing on the other side of the
hall. Immediately guessing who it was, he swallowed an annoyed
curse.

Apparently, Mrs. Goldberg did keep her eye on
everything.

~

He reentered the cellar unit, and found
Joseph asleep on the couch. Since it seemed his destiny for the
night, Arcadius checked that his blankets were warm enough. When he
took a peek at the mirror space, it still swirled dizzyingly within
the silver ring.

Restless, he let the tapestry that covered it
fall again.

He told himself they were making progress. He
shouldn’t be impatient. Campaigns were won one skirmish at a
time.

Stripping off his clothes reminded him how
chilly New York was, which reminded him of Elyse shoveling their
sidewalk without her winter coat. His blasted cock bobbed straight
up at that memory.

Shower
, he thought, having grown
accustomed to them at the hotel. The hour was late. He and Joseph
had been on the go since morning. He’d have no trouble sleeping
once he was clean and warm.

Thanks to being near the building’s water
heater, the spray emerged with great force and steam. Enjoying that
despite his worries, he soaped himself. Skin tingling from the
heat, he thought of Elyse. What would she look like naked in a
shower? He could guess. Much shorter than he was went without
saying. He knew the shape of her legs from seeing them in her
jeans. Her limbs had lean muscles and pleasing curves. Her arms
were slender, her breasts no bigger than handfuls.

He lathered his chest, peripherally aware
that his nipples were tightened points. Elyse’s skin would flush
from more than one kind of heat if he lifted her by her round
bottom. He’d like digging his fingers in, like pinning her to a
wall of tiles with his greater weight. The tiles were plain but
she’d look nice against them. He’d press her there teasingly at
first, then more firmly, then damn hard as he shoved his aching
cock deep into her wetness. She’d gasp as he filled her pussy. Her
strong thighs would hug his hips, her little hands slide
caressingly up his chest . . .

Arcadius sucked in a breath as pleasure
surged strongly at his groin. The sensation alerted him to what
he’d been up to. He’d done with washing his chest. His right fist
was squeezing lather up his erection while his left massaged his
scrotum.

His fantasy of Elyse had taken control of
him.

The stimulation felt incredible: better than
his first woman, better than the first time he jacked off as a
randy teenager. It was like his new body was playing tricks on him.
He’d always enjoyed sex. Sex was one of the Creator’s best
inventions. This was something else altogether, a life and death
compulsion. He couldn’t stop, though shock had slowed his fist’s
pumping. He had to have a release. More than that, he craved to
have one with her.

The images that idea inspired made him moan
aloud. Elyse with her head flung back. Elyse’s breasts streaming
water as her nipples budded up red and sharp. He squeezed his thick
cock harder, the soap enabling his fingers to take a tight
constriction. His veins were bulging, his nerves simultaneously
begging him to draw this out and speed to completion. He spread his
stance as wide as the tub walls allowed. His thighs were tense, his
diaphragm jerking. His cock seemed huge as he tugged it closer to
explosion. He wasn’t actually sure Elyse would be able to take
him.

Fuck
, he thought, both aroused and
alarmed.

He glanced down at his pumping hand.

He blinked and stopped jerking off.

He didn’t recognize himself. His knob was
fuller and redder than he was used to even when he was worked up.
He tilted the shaft down to see better. He supposed the vein
pattern was the same. He hadn’t memorized it; he wasn’t that big a
narcissist. He also wasn’t the owner of this big of a penis. He’d
always considered himself—proportionally speaking—as slightly
smaller than a man his height might hope for.

Lord, had he unwittingly corrected that
imagined deficiency when he created this new body? It should have
been identical to his old one—leaving aside his former powers not
being online yet. Certainly, he’d meant it to be the same. The
magic that replicated him relied on his memories.

Had the magic been influenced by his
subconscious desires as well?

Arcadius snorted through the shower spray. If
these were his subconscious desires, he was an idiot. This
transformed cock wasn’t simply a beast. It was a demanding one.
He’d never needed an orgasm as much as he did now, which didn’t
strike him as convenient. How was he going to think straight and
strategize with this new, not-improved part of him throwing its two
cents in?

He wouldn’t give in to it. With everything at
stake, he couldn’t afford to.

This decision coincided with noticing he’d
started rubbing his cock again.

“In the name of God,” he intoned aloud.
“Release yourself this second.”

His hand obeyed, his fingers so tense he had
to flex them to get them to uncramp. More than a bit annoyed, he
finished rinsing, turned off the water, and grabbed a towel. He
dried himself in as businesslike a manner as he could. One truth he
knew for certain.

It would take more than pressure points to
get to sleep tonight.

A keen sense of embarrassment dragged Elyse
awake the next morning. She groaned into the pillow she was
hugging. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of Arcadius’s story.
She’d let him tell her one in the first place.

You’d think she was five years old.

To her relief, her clothes were where they
belonged. Not that Arcadius was the kind of man who’d undress a
woman without permission. Oh, maybe if there was a medical
emergency like her heart had stopped, or if they were stuck in
sub-zero weather and she needed warming up.

“Stop,” Elyse snapped to the empty room.

She had no business imagining her new tenant
disrobing her.

She pushed out of the bed she’d shared with
David and headed for the bathroom. On the bright side, she’d slept
soundly. She glanced back at her bedside clock. Seven o’clock. Six
straight hours was a miracle these days.

She felt even better by the time she’d
showered. Clean and invigorated, she shoved her arms into a
colorful paisley printed top she hadn’t worn in a while. Her cumin
orange leggings went best with it, the ones David called her booty
pants.

Maybe she wasn’t ready to wear those. They
were kind of formfitting.

The phone rang while she was biting the side
of her thumb indecisively.

“Solomon Property Management,” she answered,
trying to sound like she wasn’t still pantsless.

“Elyse!” her Uncle Vince responded in his
too-loud voice. Elyse pulled the phone farther from her ear.
“What’s this Cara says about you leasing the cellar apartment? I
told you I’d find a renter once you were ready to face it being
occupied.”

He had told her that. He simply hadn’t paid
attention to her politely turning him down. Uncle Vince was family
and she loved him. Sometimes, though, she couldn’t deny he was
pushy. Resigned to having this conversation, she wedged the phone
between her shoulder and her ear.

“You don’t need to worry,” she said, pulling
the vibrant orange pants from the hanger they were draped on.
“These renters are okay. They paid the whole year upfront.”

“The whole year! Did their check clear?”

Elyse wasn’t about to tell him they’d paid
cash. Uncle Vince knew a thing or two about goombahs—or thought he
did. He owned every season of
The Sopranos
on Blu-ray. “It’s
fine,” she said, knuckling her forehead. “Everything’s on the
up-and-up.”

“Sweetie,” Uncle Vince came back. “You know I
think of myself as your second father since Leo . . . well, God
rest my brother’s soul. The thing is, sometimes your judgment isn’t
the best.”

“My judgment will have to do. It’s what I’ve
got to rely on.”

“You’ve got us!” her uncle exclaimed. “Me and
Cara and God knows your Aunt June loves you.”

“I know that.” Elyse was suddenly as tired as
if she hadn’t slept at all. “Believe me, I’m grateful.”

She zipped and buttoned the orange pants,
wishing they had the power to make her bold on the inside too.
Cara’s family was all she had, her only relatives in the world.

“Join us for dinner tonight,” her uncle
invited. “I’ll make reservations at the Thai place Cara likes.”

“I don’t think I can. I’ve got work to catch
up on.”

“I’ll reserve a place for you, just in case.
Show up anytime around eight. We don’t see enough of you.”

He hung up before she could refuse. David had
been great for helping her avoid her family when she wasn’t in the
mood.
Date night
, he’d say, whether they had one planned or
not. Then they’d eat out of cartons sitting side by side on the
floor of the living room, sharing stories about their childhoods or
whatever they’d done that day. David never implied she was boring
or had bad judgment or looked like the cat dragged her in.
How
did I get so lucky?
he’d ask instead, right before he hugged
her and kissed her hair.