The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0)

by Grace McGinty

  Mira and Joia, Mira's Sila partner, were both sitting at the large conference desk waiting for her and Bast.

  "I'm glad you two could finally join us," Joia quipped.

  Joia was not amused, but then the Sila was rarely ever amused. She was born without a funny bone, and hundreds of years of service with the Adel had made her so serious that Azar had never seen her face crack a smile. The Sila were the Djinn's only all-female race. They were highly intelligent, wily and could generate lightning. They were great politicians and could be cryptic enough to make you want to strangle them from time to time.

  Mira smiled at them as they took their seats. In comparison to her partner, Mira was happiness personified. But Azar never fooled herself that all her happiness wasn't wrapped around a core of pure, ruthless steel.

  "Let them have their fun, it's not as if this information is of an urgent nature." Mira winked at them. "But now you have arrived, I have some news.” Her face took a serious but sympathetic turn, like she was about to tell Azar that her goldfish died. “Killian is arriving tomorrow."

  "Who?" Azar really hated it when she was the only person in the room out of the loop. It happened a lot of course; a person couldn't run away from Djinn society for her entire life, and then magically know everything there was to know in three months. She'd been studying the books given to her by Mira on Djinn history and laws, but it didn't stop her from feeling out of her depth ninety percent of the time.

  It was Bast who answered. "Killian is the Director of the Adel, and probably the most highly decorated Adel soldier who has ever held the position. He's also a full-blooded Ifrit.” He gave her the 'dead goldfish' look too. “He's also your brother." Bast winced a little, obviously hoping to break the news with a little more tact, but there was no subtle way to insert long lost siblings into a conversation.

  "I have a brother that is the leader of the Adel." She gave a dazed shake of her head. Her life was a circus and she was only the first act.

  Joia obviously interpreted her statement as a question. "There are very few positions of power within our society that a member of your family cannot be found." Her tone said she wasn't overly pleased about that fact.

  Azar wasn't sure how she felt about it either. Her father was the Councilor for the Ifrit, and now her brother was the Director of the Adel. She had at least nine more siblings roaming around, apparently doing important things with their lives. Apparently, she'd been born into the Djinn version of the Vanderbilt’s.

  "Why is Killian coming? Last I heard, he was positioned in Europe," Bast inquired warily.

  "Given the activity within our domain in the last few months, he wants to personally ensure we have everything under control. Plus, we have a little situation building that he wishes to oversee personally."

  That caught both Bast and Azar's attention. Bast motioned for Mira to continue, but she merely shook her head.

  "It's on a need to know basis, and it’s being handled by other members for the moment. We will brief everyone on the situation if and when we feel it is necessary." Mira shuffled around some folders that sat on the conference table in front of her. "I assume Killian will want to speak to you personally, Azar. He may also wish to undertake some of your training while he is in town. I suggest you take the opportunity to learn from an accomplished soldier of your race. But as your friend, I feel I should warn you that Killian can be..." Mira searched the air for a politically correct term.

  "Obnoxious, blunt, arrogant?" Apparently Joia had no problem filling in the blanks for her.

  Mira grimaced. "I was going to say remote, but unfortunately Joia is not wrong. Killian is a determined man and a solid leader, but he didn't climb to his position in the hierarchy by making friends. However, he is the Djinn's most ardent protector." Mira's tone softened. "What I'm trying to say is don't expect too much familial warmth from him."

  Azar nodded, not feeling overly worried that her brother was cold. She wouldn't know how to receive familial warmth any better than Killian knew how to give it.

  Once they were dismissed, they took the elevator up a floor to the dorms. Bast wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her close. She loved the smell of Bast, like the warm summer sun and the sand dunes of her homeland. She turned her face so she could press her cheek against his hard chest. He bent forward so he could see her expression, his eyes clouded with worry. She gave him a wan smile and he squeezed a little harder. Her world had been so much chaos for so long that now chaos felt semi-normal to her.

  They stepped out of the elevator and into a large hallway lined with doors. She and Bast had separate rooms, but it didn't stop Bast treating hers like his own. He stayed over most nights, and even had a spare uniform in her closet.

  Bast was close on her heels as Azar unlocked her door and walked into the small room that had now become her home. The rooms were nothing grand. A double bed took up most of the floor space, except for the galley kitchen and bench that ran along one wall, a small grey stool pushed in the crevice underneath. A large mirrored built-in robe ran along the opposite wall and a single bookshelf perched above the double bed.

  Every time she walked into her dorm room, she missed her little apartment. The homesickness had been unbearable at first. After a life on the run, her well-ordered little life as a FDNY firefighter had meant a lot to her. She'd had standing lunch dates with friends. The guy at the convenience store had kept a New York Times behind the counter for her to pick up after work everyday. She’d revelled in the little intimacies of that life. The only thing that had saved her from completely breaking down during her first few weeks in the compound had been Bast's soothing presence.

  The sexy Jann in question came up behind her and pressed his warm, hard body into hers. His hand slipped under her tank top to the smooth flesh of her stomach, making the skin burn beneath his caress. He came to her bed every night and just held her in his arms. Sometimes he teased her until she was sure that her body would ignite beneath his skilled hands, but they were yet to do anything more than third base. But her response to his touch was getting stronger and harder to deny.

  "I have to shower," she murmured as Bast kissed the sensitive hollow just behind her earlobe. Even though Bast's kisses distracted her mind, her body still ached from the training session. Her muscles now groaned when she walked.

  She had been in peak physical fitness as a firefighter, but the demands of daily combat training made her body feel as if it were coated with lead. She needed a cascade of hot water to loosen her muscles and make her feel half human again.

  "Mmm, that sounds like a great idea. I'll come and wash your back." His throaty suggestion made heat pool low in her body. Bast's hands hadn't stopped their intimate exploration of her torso, his nails scraping up the sides of her hips.

  "If Joia catches you in the women's bathroom again, she will probably fry you until you are extra crispy," Azar said laughingly.

  She was only half joking; the angry Sila had threatened to do exactly that the last time she busted Bast in the women's bathrooms ‘helping’ Azar shower. They'd come so close to finally making love that day, only to be interrupted by Joia pulling back the shower curtain. She had gotten a good view of Bast's naked body pinning Azar against the shower recess wall. Azar had never felt so embarrassed, but Bast had just laughed when Joia had threatened to put a bolt of lightning somewhere unpleasant if she'd ever caught him in there again. Not much rattled Bast.

  Now, he held her hips, pulling her back against his body so she could feel the hard shape of him against the curve of her backside.

  "It'd be worth it," he purred in her ear.

  Azar wanted to take the extra step so badly that it was an actual physical ache. But she was still floundering in this world, and deep down, she knew she wanted her first time with Bast to be beyond perfect. If that meant waiting until the time was right, then she would find the mental fortitude somewhere to take it slow. But boy, did he make it hard for her.

  "I promised
Oliver I would go to Onyx tonight for the official reopening." She shook her head to clear her lust addled mind.

  “Fine,” Bast sighed and slapped her on the butt. “But you are going to be in big trouble when we get back." His eyes said he was serious, and she took him at face value.

  When they did eventually make love, she was going to pay for this delay with excruciating pleasure. As if to seal the promise, he gave her a soft lingering kiss, the kind that made your knees weaken and your insides melt like chocolate.

  "I'm going to my room to change. I'll be back in ten,” he whispered against her lips.

  She watched his ass as he left, and wondered if it shouldn’t be illegal for a man to have an ass like that. It trashed all her sensible thoughts.

  Knowing that Bast would be back in exactly ten minutes, he wasn't a man prone to exaggeration, she stripped off her clothes, put on her fluffy robe and rushed down to the women's bathroom.

  Azar wasn't surprised when the room was empty. There were only two dozen female Adel in the United States, of which there were only seven in New York City, including herself. She speculated that like most antiquated institutions, there was an underlying belief that women weren't strong enough to get the job done.

  Standing beneath the pulsating needles of water, Azar wondered if the lack of female Adel had less to do with sexism and more to do with a far greater problem within the Djinn race. When she looked back on her trial, there were far more males than females, even within the civilian population who had come to be spectators to her possible execution. If you ruled out the females from the Sila race, which were all females, the men outnumbered the women at least three to one. Turning off the water, she made a mental note to ask Mira about the issue. If the birthrate of females was dropping, it could be signaling the early stages of extinction for full-blooded Djinn, and that was a problem for everyone.

  Vigorously drying herself, she looked at the clock and realized she'd been standing under the shower for longer than she expected. She marched double time back down the hallway to her dorm room, still not passing anyone.

  In her room, she stood in front of her closet and pulled out her favorite black skinny leg jeans and a deep red tank top. Stuffing her feet in combat boots, she put on half a dozen wrap bracelets to hide her slave cuffs. It was perfect attire for The Onyx, which exclusively played metalcore music and catered to the disillusioned and probably the partially deaf. It was owned and run by Donovan, a half-blood Shaitan she would hesitantly call a friend. She had a minor case of fatal attraction to Donovan. He was tall, scary, and set her body on fire. Not that she would ever tell anyone that. That was one forbidden crush she was never going to act on.

  The best thing about The Onyx in her opinion was that the security were an all Were outfit that Donovan employed from a local Werewolf pack out in Sterling Forest. She would definitely call most of them friends. Especially Oliver, a werejaguar who was somewhere between best friend and a wet dream. She hadn't really worked out how Oliver had fit into a Werewolf pack; dogs and cats usually weren't a great mix, but she'd seen first hand that they loved him unconditionally, as if he howled at the moon once a month just like the rest of the pack.

  She was swiping lip gloss on her lips when there was a knock at her door and Bast let himself in. He was dressed similar to herself in black, bootcut jeans, combat boots and a tight, black tshirt. The unrelenting black set off his golden skin. He literally took her breath away.

  Azar swallowed hard and clenched her fist to stop herself from reaching out and peeling him out of his clothes. She had less control over her libido than a teenage human going through puberty. She needed to snap out of it. Bast's half smile and hooded gaze meant that her internal struggle wasn't remaining so internal. Smug bastard.

  "I just have to do my hair, give me a minute." Bast nodded and laid down on her bed.

  Azar turned back to the mirrored door of her closet and ran the brush through her dark hair. Her Persian heritage, combined with the agelessness of an extended lifespan, allowed her to get away with not wearing make-up. Her olive skin was flawless, and her eyes were framed with naturally thick eyelashes. Tying her hair back in a high ponytail, she shot a look at her bed, and the giant hunk of lean muscle that was currently dwarfing it.

  Bast had picked up the book on Djinn history that had been resting open on her nightstand. His tshirt had crept up a little, baring the hard muscles of his abdomen, and the delicious V of his obliques. Looking at that V, she struggled to remember why she hadn't jumped his bones yet. Tendrils of lust curled tightly in her abdomen, and she knew that if she didn't leave now, her body would take control, regardless of what her head said.

  She finally found her voice. "Let's go."

  It came out an octave higher than normal, and her cheeks heated. She all but ran for the door, Bast’s chuckles echoing behind her. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 2

  It hadn't taken Donovan long to rebuild The Onyx after the Rogue had burned the place to the ground. Two construction crews and three months later, The Onyx was bigger and better than ever. Looking at the outside, you would never have guessed that it had been a pile of sooty rubble less than twelve weeks ago. Aesthetically, the club remained basically the same, right down to the surly security guard manning the door.

  The last time Bast and Azar had visited, Bast had had to sweet talk his way through the door. This time, the wall of muscle that passed as a bouncer smiled so brightly at them that it probably would have eclipsed the sun.

  "Azar! It's so good to see you." John, at least she thought that’s what his name was, reached over and wrapped her in a tight hug. Now she really felt bad that she didn't know his name.

  In her defence, there were a lot of Weres and they all looked basically the same; tall, broad, and so muscular that they seemed to have no necks. They all wore permanent scowls for anyone but pack, and apparently now Azar. She had become kind of an honorary pack member when she'd saved the life of one of their younger wolves. She maintained that Aaron, the young wolf, had saved her life, so there was no blood debt or anything along those lines, but the wolves were a stubborn bunch.

  She greeted the Were just as warmly, asking after the pack and generally making polite conversation. Eventually, John ushered them through the velvet ropes, informing them that Oliver was behind the bar for the night. She thanked him again and gave him a quick goodbye hug before they melted into the crowd.

  Bast looked down at her from his six foot five height, one eyebrow raised.

  She shrugged. She liked the Weres, and she also liked that they considered her to be one of their pack. There was a sense of family and community within the pack that Azar had never had up until now. Within Djinn society, it was every race for itself, and even within the individual races there were strict rules and protocols to follow, a level of stiff formality that was maintained even with blood kin. Not so with the Weres. Their passions ran high and they were never short on affection.

  Bast led them through the crowded club, and the masses seemed to part for him. Azar didn't know if it was just his height and breadth, or the leashed wildness that seemed to permeate from his body, that cleared the people from his path. Perhaps he did it with his Jann abilities; she'd seen him clear this very club in minutes using mind control. At the time, Azar had been awed and scared in equal parts as she'd watched on. Now she just considered it rather convenient that they could be at the bar within seconds of entering the room.

  Oliver looked up from where he was pouring shots of Patrón and a smile lit up his classic beach boy features.

  "Azar!" he yelled as he jumped the bar effortlessly, making all the humans around them gape. She barely had time to frown at his reckless behavior before he swept her into his arms and dipped her backwards to nuzzle her neck. The sensation of his lips against her skin made her heart race a little, but she pushed it down. She had Bast, she didn’t need more trouble in her life, especially the hunky man kind. She repeated this to h
erself, hoping her lady parts listened.

  "I've missed you! When are you going to leave the dusty old guy and run away with me?" He asked the question loud enough for Bast to hear and she just rolled her eyes.

  "Well, I'm kind of tied up for the next fifty years or so, but I'll pencil you in for about 2069," she replied laughingly.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he purred, and her heart flip-flopped. Oliver was playful by nature. He liked to rib the other alpha males who seemed to crowd her life, and tease her until she blushed.

  The women around them eyed her enviously, but she was determined to ignore anything but the platonic feelings she had for him. She needed a best friend more than she needed another love interest. Her life was not her own for the next fifty years. There was no space for the all consuming heat that would be sure to happen with Oliver. Plus, she had Bast. She didn’t need anyone else, right?

  Oliver finally righted her back into a vertical position and leaned across her to shake Bast's hand. No one was more self-assured than Bast, so he played along with Oliver's teasing with a mock scowl, but there was laughter in his eyes. They'd become fairly close as well in the last couple of months.

  Oliver returned to the bar, but through the door this time, much to the disappointment of the crowd. He poured a round of drinks for them and waved away Bast's money.

  Azar took a sip of her scotch, straight up, no ice. "Why are you behind the bar tonight instead of doing what you normally do?"

  She actually had no idea what Oliver's role was in the club. There was plenty of Were muscle, and while Oliver had a lean musculature about him, like the jungle cat he was, the wolves won the award for pure intimidation.