Azar punched him in the arm. “Only when you're dreaming, Pussy Cat!” And sometimes when she was dreaming too. She smiled at him. Her old friends may be gone, but she had a full range of new ones. They were different, but equally as special. Oliver would always have her back, the whole pack would. “But I love you too.”
“That calls for another toast,” he poured another two shots. “To love and pussy… cats,” he purred and she seconded the toast, laughing.
The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. At some point, the club had opened, and then there was dancing, and belly shots off some college kid with great abs and a love of tight leather. At one point, she took her panties off, soaked them in tequila and lit them on fire. She kissed Oliver, and the college kid, and then Oliver again. And Oliver a lot more. Then they danced until she couldn’t feel her feet anymore.
It started to get hazy after that, but she would never forget Jerry hoisting her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and dragging her drunken ass back to Donovan's office.
She must have dozed off, because then Bast was there, carrying her out to his car. She snuggled into his side as he drove her home.
“Bast?”
“Yes, Jaanaman?”
“I completed my mission. I no longer have any panties to bunch.”
“I saw that, Baby. The whole club saw that,” he laughed. “I should have known better than to leave you with the cat. He is a bad influence and the way he looks at you…”
Azar briefly thought she might be terribly embarrassed by that in the morning, then passed out.
Chapter 12
She didn’t know why someone was banging on her door like a drumming monkey on amphetamines, but they were going to die a painful death as soon as she could move without wanting to throw up.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she croaked loudly, then instantly regretted it as pain speared through her skull. She felt like she had a mouth full of cotton balls and her eyes were stuck together with Krazy Glue. Her door opened and closed, and she struggled to raise her head to see who it was. There was a half-eaten hot dog on her night stand, and just looking at it made her want to puke.
"Well, I see you took my advice. I always wondered what a hangover felt like, seeing how it is such a bemoaned fact of human life. Looking at you now, I'm glad it will only ever be a hypothetical question. You look like shit." Killian's voice sounded smugly amused, and if she could have summoned the energy to throw something heavy at his smirking face, she would have done it in an instant, slave cuffs be damned. Unfortunately, all she could do was groan and bury her face in the pillow.
"What do you want? Did the Council decide to chop off my head? Because right now, that'd probably be a mercy," she mumbled into her pillow. She really didn't need anyone to witness her half-human humiliation.
Killian cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday, about being alone now that Bast has been transferred to the Sila Councilors political seat in Stuttgart. So, I've come to invite you to a family dinner. Offsite. Father will be there of course, and my mother. Also a couple of our siblings, and perhaps their mothers. Whoever is in the country really." More throat clearing. "We usually get together once every couple of years, or whenever Father commands it. But I thought introducing you to a couple of us at a time might be a better plan. I left my twin sister Keeley in charge of the arrangements. You'll like her, she has a certain spunk about her too."
Azar managed to sit up in bed, prying her eyes open. Her gaze ran thoughtfully over Killian. He actually seemed like he cared. Apparently he wasn’t the cold heartless asshole that everyone had warned her about.
"I'd like that," she mumbled, because her mouth was still drier than her desert homeland.
Even though the thought of meeting so much family, and spending time with her father, filled her stomach with leaden butterflies, she found that she genuinely meant her statement. Killian gave her a little smile, then his face was back to its neutral mask of her commanding officer.
"I've done as much damage control as I can after yesterday's little outburst. The news couldn't be contained, after all even the Djinn have cell phones. I convinced the higher ups that it was a family dispute, rather than a slave attacking the head of the Adel. It’s lucky for you that our race has such a history of violent domestic squabbles, otherwise tonight’s dinner would be a wake rather than an introduction.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly at his own joke. “I'll collect you at five. Wear a dress. Our elders are still quite traditional in their views."
With that, he slipped back out the door.
Azar squinted at the clock. It was three in the afternoon already. After she dragged her sorry body out of bed, she noticed a huge bruise on her left shin. She didn’t know exactly what happened last night in those pesky blank spots, but she felt as if she'd climbed Everest.
Hoisting herself into an upright position, she grabbed her robe and toiletries kit. She was going to stand under the shower until she either pickled in her own skin or came out feeling half alive.
Bast was stretched out on her bed when she stumbled back into her room, wrinkled but feeling better. He spread out his arms and she curled up in them with her cheek on his chest. This was what she would miss the most. Her stomach clenched and her heart ached.
"Thanks for coming to get me last night." Her words were muffled by his chest. He kissed the top of her forehead.
"You're welcome. I think Jerry was one step away from putting you in the dumpster, pack status be damned. I'm fairly sure Oliver is actually in the dumpster right now.” He let out a soft chuckle and squeezed her tight. “To say you were both shit-faced would be an understatement. You two together are a force of nature. You’re lucky I’m a secure man, and don’t mind sharing you with that big, furry asshole.”
Azar liked the vibration of his chest against her cheek as he spoke. It was like a deep rumble that reverberated through her body. She tried not to read too much into what Bast said. She knew he meant sharing her, as a friend. He didn’t mean sharing her, together. Naked. She had a brief flash of Oliver’s lips against hers, tasting of tequila and bad decisions. The idea of Bast and Oliver together was enough to melt her brain. Another memory flash of Oliver dancing on the bar without a shirt on, his abs rippling in the strobe lights much to her delight, and the delight of the female patrons. She also remembered Jerry punching him in the thigh, and catching him as he fell off the bar. He didn't seem happy. Bast was right; Oliver was probably snuggled around a garbage bag of dirty paper towels and empty beer bottles at this very moment. The thought made her smile. It had been a wild night, but no matter how bad she knew she should feel logically, she didn’t have a single regret.
Bast’s eyes stared down at her, seeing into her soul. Or at least that’s what it felt like.
"I'm having dinner with my family tonight," she blurted out. Nervous fear crawled along her skin and made her sweat at the thought. She'd had friends that she'd considered family over the years, like Joe and Linda, but she hadn't had blood relations since she was five. These were people who would probably outlive her, and they would either love her or hate her until the day she died. That was a lot of pressure.
"Mmm, I know. I ran into Killian in the hall this morning and he asked if I thought it would be something you'd like. I don't know who was more uncomfortable, him or me. But I thought it couldn't hurt and told him so. I also bought you a present."
He shifted her off his chest, and she reluctantly settled on the pillow. He leaned over the side of the bed, and put a large flat box on the comforter at her feet.
"I remember the state of your wardrobe before you were conscripted. I shudder to think what it is like now. Besides, I want everyone tonight to understand that you are special, and I want you to feel special too."
Azar sat up and undid the bow. God, she loved this man. He knew what she needed before she did. Once cognitive thought had returned to her alcohol muddled mind in the shower,
she'd been fretting about what to wear tonight.
She undid the bow and pulled the lid off the box. Hidden in the folds of tissue paper was a black satin dress, with tiny pink roses patterned across the smooth fabric. She pulled it out and held it up.
The bodice of the dress had a sweetheart neckline, but had black lace panel across the chest and long black lace sleeves. It had a half circle skirt and she knew it would sit about her knees. It was a stunningly beautiful dress, and Azar felt her eyes mist. She couldn't believe she was going to cry over a dress.
"It's beautiful," she murmured. She leaned over and kissed him; a soft gentle kiss that gave life to feelings she had yet to put into words. "Thank you."
Bast smiled. "It is merely an ornament. You are the one that is beautiful.” He gave her a sultry look. "You know, you haven’t given me a proper homecoming yet." The heat in his voice would have melted butter, and it had a similar effect on her insides. Before she knew it, her robe was on the floor and she was under Bast.
"Is the ability to get a woman naked and under you in five seconds a secret Jann ability?" She joked as he kissed his way across her body.
"Uh-uh, it’s a Bast original." His breath was hot against her skin, and a pulse of heat ran through her body. He nipped at her hip bone, along the gentle curve of her belly to the other hip. He was teasing her, and she could barely contain her moan.
"I think you should show me what other original moves you have. But you better make it fast because Killian will be here to pick me up in an hour. It would be awkward if he interrupted anything."
Boy, was that an understatement. She would curl up in a ball and die of embarrassment if that happened.
Bast looked up at her from where he was resting his chin on her abdomen, a devilish grin across his face, his body nestled between her thighs. She knew that grin and it made her heart rate soar.
He nipped the skin of her inner thigh, then the inside of her knee and Azar held her breath as he got to apex of her thighs. Her thought processes shut down as his mouth claimed her core and her body bucked towards the warmth of his clever tongue. He pinned her in place with one hand on her thigh, and his tongue swirled and dipped until she thought she was going to peel out of her skin. The man had skills. Like crazy, good skills.
One final gentle glide of his tongue had her spinning over the edge, and she tangled her hands in his hair roughly as she moaned his name. He slid up her body and kissed her hard on the lips, his tongue exploring her mouth with as much skill as it explored other places. She wrapped her legs around his body and held him tight against her. The muscles of his back flexed as he levered up on his elbows to look down at her face.
“Mmm, I love the taste of you,” he growled against her lips. “I'm going to do that again when you get home tonight, but for now...” He flipped them over so fast she got a head rush. She was straddling his hips and he was looking up at her body with such open need that her core clenched in anticipation.
She eased herself down on his cock torturously slowly, until he was whimpering with need. He gave her a pained look, grabbed her hips and slammed her down, making her moan loudly as he filled her. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her close, his cock burying itself deeper inside her. He caught her eye, and watched her intently as she started to move, his hands on her hips helping her keep the rhythm. Her head fell back as the pleasure made her limbs feel fluid, and Bast wrapped his hands in her hair, tilting her head back so he could look in her eyes.
“I want to watch your face as you come.”
A sheen of sweat broke out across her skin as she raked her nails down his shoulders, fighting to make the pleasure last a little longer. Bast's own deep moans echoed hers and they moved in symphony. She struggled to maintain eye contact as her orgasm built, and then her body was spasming around his, her eyes closed as the pleasure swept over her.
Bast was still hard inside her, and he picked up his pace, his moans becoming guttural as he brought her to the brink again, thrusting hard into her boneless body until he threw his own head back in release.
When her muscles stopped twitching, she rolled onto the bed next to him. She caught her breath and snuggled in beside him, loving the warmth of his body.
“Do you think that will ever stop being so epic?” she croaked out. Her throat was dry and scratchy. Yeesh, she hoped her neighbors didn’t complain.
“I don't think so. I'm willing to go again if you want to test the theory,” he joked.
Azar felt limp. She didn't think she could go again, even if she did have time.
“I love you, you know that right?” she whispered into his chest.
“I know. I haven't loved anyone the way I love you in a long time,” he stroked her hair, which was now a tangle of knots. Whoops. But Azar sensed a story there.
“You know, the sex is amazing, but I know very little about you. You seem to know everything there is to know about me. So I want to know, who was the last person you loved the way you love me?”
“Probably my wife.”
Azar bolted upright in bed. “Your what?” she screeched.
Bast laughed and pulled her back down beside him. “Relax. It was a lifetime ago. Literally. She's been gone a long time.” She snuggled herself back into his side.
“You better start explaining,” she grumbled. She couldn’t believe that she'd been seeing him for months and he never thought to mention that he'd been married once, no matter how long ago it had been.
“We got married when we were twenty, against the wishes of the Jann elders. They frown on marriages before you have done your servitude. They think, rightly I might add, that a person of twenty is merely a babe in the supernatural world. But we were in love, and in a significant amount of lust, and we had the folly of youth on our side. We got married in secret, and we lived contentedly until we turned twenty-five and had to undertake our servitude. I got placed with the Adel, and she got a worse assignment. She was very beautiful,” he swallowed hard, “and got sent to live with an old Werewolf king in Russia.” His face grew hard.
“The Wolf King was obsessed with her; he loved and hated her beauty, hated that she wouldn't be his forever. If one of the other wolves even spoke to her, he'd have them skinned alive in their animal form. She spent years isolated, being beaten. The Council will permit a lot of mistreatment, but Erikkah was one of the Jann's favorite daughters. When they found out about her mistreatment, they started the process of removing her from his mastership. When he heard, he took off with her, giving up his kingdom to one of the many younger wolves that were always challenging him. The Adel couldn't track him down. By the time they found them, it was too late. He'd torn her apart when he'd felt threatened. They brought her body back in a tiny box.”
Azar shuddered at the thought of the terror and pain Bast’s wife must have felt every day, and her heart broke for him too. It explained some of the darkness that always shadowed his eyes.
“I didn’t really want to go on after that. I stayed with the Adel and worked until I forgot the pain, long after my servitude finished. Eventually enough time passed that I didn't feel the all-consuming rage anymore. Instead, I started to see that the Council, the Adel, even our whole society was wrong. The fact that Erikkah had to live with that monster for ten years before they lifted a finger to help, just showed me what a flawed and cruel system governs our society. So I left the Adel. You know the rest.”
Even after a innumerable years, she could hear the pain in his voice, and see the hurt in his eyes. He bared his scars for her to see, and now she finally understood why he was so willing to give up his freedom for her. It was an echo of a past trauma, a chance to make amends for the wife he couldn't protect.
She ran her hand in small, soothing circles on his chest, allowing him to wrestle his demons back into their mental prison. She kissed a scar that puckered on his shoulder, an old war wound from a battle long gone, and wished she could kiss away the pain of his emotional scars. But that was
n't possible; all she could do was show him love and allow him to heal. They lay together for a while, wrapped in a comfortable silence.
Azar barely had time to have one more quick shower, sprinting to the communal bathrooms and back. By the time she had eased on her beautiful dress with the utmost care, then swiped on some lip gloss, there was a knock at the door. She slid her feet into the matching pair of peep toe shoes that Bast had produced from under the bed again. Azar had actually checked to see if there were any more surprises squirrelled away under there.
She tottered over to her door now. It took her a bit to get her land-legs in anything higher than combat boots.
Killian was standing at her door, a beautifully tailored black dinner jacket and charcoal chinos gracing his huge frame.
"Good evening, Azar. You look nice." He gave her a genuine smile.
Azar mumbled a thank you and reached around the door to get her clutch. "Okay, I’m ready," she said hesitantly.
“Have her home by nine,” Bast called from his place on her bed, and she rolled her eyes.
Killian frowned as he offered her his arm, which she took gratefully. She was much more adept at walking around in boots than high heels. They walked in companionable silence to the elevators, riding down to the private parking garage.
They stopped in front of a Lamborghini Aventador, and her jaw fell to the floor. Holy shit. It was a sleek matte black, so low that it barely reached her chest. If there was a car that meant business, it was this one. It just screamed money, sex and power. She looked around the private parking garage and realized there wasn't a Toyota in the place. Every park was filled with some kind of luxury car. She raised her eyebrows at Killian over the roof of the Lamborghini.
"The Djinn; keeping luxury car makers in business since 1901?"
Killian laughed and slid into the driver’s seat. Azar slid into the plush leather passenger seat with reverence. It was a beauty to behold, inside and out. Deep orange highlights ran through the interior. The leather upholstery was buttery soft. It was a luxurious coffin. Who would be able to resist bringing this baby up to its twelve cylinder potential on an open highway? But what a way to go! It purred to life, and Azar let out a little squeak of excitement.
The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0) Page 34