The coloring-in book in question let out a frustrated humph.
"Get on with it, Azar. You obviously have a place in mind." His coal black eyes glittered with anger and she knew right then, even watered down and clucky, Donovan was still one scary mofo.
"The Sterling Forest Pack has offered me a life favor for saving Aaron. It wasn't something I asked for and I really had no intention of using it, but it might be the best alternative for Freya. If I could convince them that the blood debt would be met if they were to raise Freya as one of their own among the wolf cubs, she might be able to live a semi-normal life. As you know, the Weres are less susceptible to our abilities than humans and some other supes, and given the weakness of Freya's abilities, they should be able to live reasonably harmoniously.” She chewed her lip as she thought. “That being said, she'd need to have full control over her abilities first. I'm not setting her amongst the cubs so they can live in fear within their own dens, purposefully or not."
The Shaitan had the ability to instil strong emotions within their prey, such as fear, rage, passion, hatred and any other negative emotion. In turn, the Shaitan fed off the energy that pervaded from their victims when they were in the throes of those emotions.
Before the Council had been introduced, and strict laws put upon the Shaitan, they used to torture their prey before they killed them, milking as much negative energy as they could. Azar had read that on special occasions, the Shaitan would gather an entire town together for an orgy on the sand dunes. When the lust energy started to wane, they would cause them all severe mental pain, before finally running them down individually to slaughter them like animals. Azar hadn't slept for a week after reading that passage in her Djinn history books.
They had garnered such a bad reputation, even amongst the malevolent Djinn, which also consisted of the Ifrit and the Ghul, that the Council had set up strict laws for the Shaitan, with summary execution for anyone who broke those laws. The result of this zero tolerance policy was that there were very few Shaitan left in the modern world. Not really such a loss, except when you remember that the Djinn system was based on balance. If the Shaitan were wiped out, then their benevolent counterpart, in this case the Sila, would have no checks on their power, and could essentially rise up to rule the Djinn. No one wanted a world run purely by the Sila. The PMS alone would be a killer.
Bast had tested Freya's power earlier, when the little girl had been playing on a large slide that had fallen out of favor in the amusement park, to get an accurate reading of her abilities and their strength. Freya's powers were nowhere near as strong as her father’s, let alone a full-blooded Shaitan, but she could still instil low level feelings. She could make a person angry enough to punch a wall, but not so angry that they would tear apart their own family with their bare hands. Her abilities were also largely uncontrolled, which was why she had frightened the human children in her class.
Bast turned to Donovan. "Yes, she'll need to be in control of her abilities, but time is of the essence. The longer she is in your care, the more time there is for someone to let it slip to the Council. Maybe you can teach her to channel positive emotions like love and happiness?" he joked.
Donovan scoffed. "Love? I don't think there has been a Shaitan in history who has wielded either love or happiness. We channel the things we are capable of feeling, and love and happiness are not amongst them. The Shaitan are cold."
And apparently also blind, Azar thought to herself. He loved his daughter, even if he didn't recognize the feeling.
But Azar had to agree. The chance of a Shaitan being able to switch tracks was unlikely, but it couldn't hurt to try. “I'll go and see Anton to request this as my favor, as soon as you can assure me she has her powers suppressed or at least under control." Azar gave a theatrical sigh. "I was going to use my favor to get the pack enforcers to rough up a couple of my ex-boyfriends, but I guess this is more noble." She smiled at both Bast and Donovan. "On that note, we better return to the compound. I am a slave you know, wouldn't want to displease my masters."
She was joking, of course. As far as forced slavery went, she'd gotten pretty lucky. Plus technically Mira was her master, and she knew the woman had a big soft spot for her. Bast stood and stretched, and then passed a set of keys to Donovan.
"Use my place while you are getting organized. The security system is good and the building tenants are entirely human. Just put the keys in the ficus plant out the front of the warehouse when you don't need the place any more. It'll protect them until I can pick them up."
Azar was no longer surprised by Bast's creepy plants that seemed partially sentient. It was part of his Jann abilities; he could grow greenery even in the harshest of environments, and summon water from underground. He could also shape your subconscious mind to see an internal oasis of your own making. When Azar had been dying aboard the Staten Island ferry, the pain so unbearable that she thought that death would be a sweet release, Bast had created an oasis in her mind, soothing her and almost making love to her. It had been a comforting display of power. If the Djinn ever went mainstream, the Jann would make quite a killing as anesthetists.
Donovan waded into the teddy pit and picked up Freya. She didn't even open her eyes, just snuggled into the comfort of her father’s strength. Donovan looked down at her and the expression on his face made Azar laugh. The Shaitan can't feel love, her ass!
She raised her eyebrows at him and he frowned. The guy had looked perpetually confused and frustrated all night. Well, welcome to parenthood buddy, you better get used to it. She walked them to the door as Bast went to turn out the lights. Donovan laid the girl on the back seat and drove off.
The lights behind her were all turned off and Azar felt Bast's arm snake around her waist, pulling her back tightly against the warmth of his body. She ran her fingers along the hard muscles of his forearm and let out a gentle moan as she felt him kiss the base of her neck. He drew her back into the complete darkness of the warehouse, shutting the door with his foot and spun her around so he could kiss her, pressing her back against the cool metal.
His kiss was deep and sensual, his tongue exploring the surface of her lips, pushing past her teeth to stroke her tongue with his own. Her arms had snaked around his neck, threading his slightly too long hair through her fingers.
Due to the total darkness of the room, her sense of touch heightened. The sensations were doubly intense, the feel of his fingers running over the soft skin of her back, the taste of him in her mouth, the intoxicating scent that was purely Bast, each more potent from the deprivation of her sight. She felt her body and its overwhelming need push her protestations to the back of her mind. She needed Bast, and no amount of self-flagellation and retrospection was going to change that fact.
The decision made, she sighed against his lips and let her body melt into his, no longer two bodies but one, seared together by heat and need. Bast sensed her surrender, and his kisses became more demanding, more intense. He peeled off her tank top, his hands running up her rib cage as his thumbs reached across to stroke her nipples through her delicate lace bra. She let out a breathy moan that seemed to echo off the high ceilings of the warehouse.
She tugged at Bast's shirt, needing to feel his hard body under her hands and he ducked his head down so she could pull his shirt off. His mouth was so close to her breasts, his tongue flicked out and licked one of her aroused nipples, sending shock waves to the hot place between her thighs. He trailed kisses across her collarbone to her other breast, his hands skillfully undoing her bra and discarding it into the darkness.
He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked it hard, and her hands tugged painfully at his hair, pulling him closer. He slipped his hands under her butt, and lifted her until her breasts were face level, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He moved them as his mouth nibbled and teased at her breasts, his hands massaging her ass. He kicked something with his foot and then she was falling into a mound of soft synthetic fur.
"Are we
really going to do it for the first time on a pile of stuffed toys?" she laughed, but the sound ended in a moan as Bast hummed his affirmative on her nipple. He broke off his attentions on her breasts to wrangle them both out of their shoes and jeans. When he rejoined her, his body pressed into hers as he kissed her neck, his hard shaft pressed against her thigh.
"Wherever we make love for the first time will be magical, but perhaps this will help. Close your eyes." He pressed his forehead to hers, and the scene bloomed before her.
She was lying on the softest grass she had ever felt, under a large palm that only let in dappled sunlight. Bast was there, his body leaning over her, the golden shade of his skin too perfect, gleaming in the warm desert sun. Over his shoulder she could see undulating hills of sand and she knew she was home. She remembered this place from the last time Bast had taken her into an oasis, when she was writhing in pain on the deck of a boat.
Today there was a light breeze dancing over the waters of a calm, crystal blue lake. The sun warmed her skin. She ran her fingers lightly down the muscles of his back, barely touching his skin, and watched his body shiver with delight.
"Aren't you a romantic," she teased.
There was something about this place that made her feel languid, effortlessly sultry. She arched her back so her breasts rubbed against the light golden curls on his chest with delicious friction. She gazed at him in wonder. "How can any man be so beautiful?" Even the scars that crisscrossed his body, tokens of long ago fought battles, were beautiful imperfections.
"You do not know real beauty, Jaaneman. Real beauty is what I see when I look into your eyes," he whispered back. Jaaneman was a Persian word, meaning 'soul of me'. "Let me show you." The scenery slightly shifted, and instead of staring up at Bast, she was staring down at herself. "This is what I see when I look at you." His voice was like a calm water.
What she saw was an impossibility. It wasn't like looking in a mirror, where all you saw was faults and flaws. Looking at herself through Bast's eyes was like seeing the most perfect version of herself. Her dark eyelashes fluttered slowly against her olive cheeks. "This is what I feel when I touch you." Her neck was soft as silk beneath Bast's lips, her hips fitting perfectly in his hands. Her skin, her breasts, her hair, it was all perfect through his eyes. She felt his touch as he traced a line down her torso, but also the feel of her abdomen through his sensations, how he revelled at the suppleness that was so inherently female. The dual sensations threatened to shatter her mind, and when his hands ran up the backs of her thighs, readying her body for him, she had a moment of panic. Would it be too much? Would the dual sensations splinter her heart? Make her lose a little piece of herself that she feared she could never get back?
"Are you ready, Jaaneman?"
She swallowed hard, but she wanted to know how he felt. She nodded, stretching up to softly kiss his lips as he slowly drove his cock into her. She let out a low moan as he filled her, felt the sweet stretching of her muscles, combined with Bast's glory as he buried himself in her. She moaned as his pace quickened, the feel of him inside her from both of their minds and bodies, the pleasure that was rolling through them both. It crashed down on her like a tsunami. Her body moved to meet him, matching him thrust for thrust.
They came together so completely, that Azar didn't know which were her sensations and which were his, as pleasure rolled through her body like lightning. Her hands ran over his body, her fingers digging into his hard muscles to anchor herself in the storm of feelings.
He pressed his body to hers, chest to chest, heart to heart, driving deep inside her until she could hear her screams echoing around the warehouse. She felt his climax climb with hers and then they were both standing on the precipice together. Pleasure threatened to shatter her soul.
The oasis fell away as she opened her eyes, her breathing hard, every inch of her body tingling and coated in sweat.
Bast was a dead weight on top of her, his strong arms holding her so tightly, as if she were anchoring him too. Eventually he rolled to the side, his breathing evening out, his body still pressed closely to hers.
"I fear you've shattered me, and then remade me, but somehow I don't think I'll ever be the same,” Bast said, his voice was heavy with emotion.
"Then you are more beautiful for having been broken, Jaaneman." She used his endearment for her, and she truly believed it. He had worked his way into her very soul.
Chapter 4
The radiant warmth of Bast's body woke her the next morning. She looked around her dorm room, trying to judge the time of day. They had straggled home in the early hours, sneaking through the halls like a couple of teenagers. Bast had laid her down on her bed and made love to her for the rest of the night. It had been the most romantic, electrifying thing to happen to her in all her long years.
Azar stretched and yawned, turning in Bast's arms so she could gaze at his sleeping face. His lashes fluttered on his cheeks, and soon she was looking into the warm gold of his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, that would help express how she felt right now, but she was interrupted by the chirping of Bast's phone.
Bast had once been a well decorated Adel member, centuries before he had met Azar. From what she had gleaned through compound gossip, and their interactions, Bast and Mira had been partners. That was until Bast had become so disillusioned with the system that he'd left the Adel.
He'd bought Coney Island from Mira's father, Mosel. It was whispered in the halls that he had been one of the best soldiers the Adel had ever had, which was why the Council had been so eager to barter fifty years of her servitude to have him back within their fold.
When their servitude had started, Bast had been given his old rank in the hierarchy, but slightly below Mira. It had definitely burned Joia that she and Bast now had the same level of command, which amused Bast to no end.
He lazily leaned over Azar's body to reach for his phone, the stubble of his chin scraping deliciously across her nipple. He pressed the answer button and rested his head on her breasts.
"Bast. Yes. Okay, we'll be right there. ETA two minutes." He hit the hang up button and threw his phone back on top of his jeans, turning his face to nip the side of her breast. Azar sucked in a breath. "They want us in the Comms room. Killian has arrived."
Bast didn't make any move to rise from the bed, instead running his hand across her abdomen. Azar ignored the flood of sensation that traveled in the wake of his extremely skilled fingers and sat up.
"And you said we'd only be two minutes?" She shot out of bed.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, feeling the heat of Bast's gaze as he watched her bend over to wiggle her feet through the skinny bottoms of her jeans.
She threw his t-shirt at him. "Get up! It’s my first meeting with my brother and my big boss. I want to make a good impression."
She splashed her face and brushed her teeth in the tiny little kitchen sink, wishing she had more time. She turned, pulling her hair into a quick braid down her back, and saw Bast unhurriedly dressing. She jammed her feet into her boots and gave him a scowl.
"If you don't hurry up, I will literally light a fire under you to get you moving." A little flame formed in her hand to back up her words.
Bast just laughed and gave her a pacifying gesture, sliding into his jeans sans underwear. The room got a little warmer but she kept her mind on the job. She’d thought that making love to him would ease the burning need that seemed to plague her every second of every day, but it had just made it worse. It was an ache in her soul now.
He finished tying his boots, and the look on her face made his own soften. He came over and wrapped one arm around her body, the other cupping her cheek. He kissed her, the sensation so consuming, she briefly forgot the pressing deadline. When he broke off the kiss, a smile lit up his face.
"We're going to have to sprint, or we'll be late." He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and then bolted out the doorway, leaving Azar to chase down the hall after him.
When she finally caught up, he was waiting for her outside of the Comms room. He gave her arm a quick squeeze of support and then pushed open the heavy doors, standing to the side to let her enter before him. She knew he would give her space, so her brother would see her as an independent person, rather than half of a matching set. He waited until she was halfway across the room before he followed her in, and purposefully sat down at the opposite end of the conference table. A little part of her wanted to scrabble onto his lap and hide behind his self assurance.
She took in the people at the conference desk, a polite smile on her face. Mira and Joia were there, of course, and next to them were two more Adel that she'd only met briefly when she'd moved into the dorms. She wasn't even sure of their names; none of the Adel members spent a lot of time in the compound, so she barely had more than a passing acquaintance with the majority of the Adel members. However, next to them was a familiar face. Danian had been assigned as Keenan Reilly's handler, the liaison between informant and the Adel Intelligence Department.
Azar had to physically fight the urge to ask after Keenan. Danian seemed to sense her turmoil, because he gave her a small smile and nodded. Keenan was okay, and that fact lifted her heart a little as she turned toward the head of the table, to the last unknown person in the room. Raw power emanated off the man in waves, and she knew he could only be one person.
Killian.
Azar bowed her head in deference. She didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but she was a slave, and he was her master, irrespective of their blood relationship. She studied him quickly beneath her lashes. They looked fairly similar, and that came as a shock. They both had square cut faces, olive skin and remarkably similar noses. Azar's lips were a little fuller than Killian's and his face was littered with scars, much like Bast's. But the most startling difference were their eyes. Killian's were a blue grey, like a thunder cloud before a snow storm.
The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0) Page 25