by Emma Holly
But he wasn’t ready to think about that now. Before either of them could entertain more questions, he grasped his throbbing erection, set its head against her entry, and plunged assertively into her.
Georgie almost came from the single thrust. Connor’s mood was different from what she was used to. Less controlled. Maybe even dangerous. Her lover felt huge inside her, barely allowing her to adjust to his penetration before he withdrew and drove in again. She arched her neck and fought against crying out. His pace was perfect, his long, steady motions heavenly. She loved when he thrust in and out full length. She would have groaned, but he was right about showing consideration to Iksander.
Despite her pleasure, her brow furrowed. Had there been something un-Connor-like in his tone when he said they shouldn’t disturb the other man? Had he, truth be told, sounded arch?
He drove the thought from her head with his next inward pump. She needed both arms to brace for the strength he used—not that she was complaining. He was eager tonight, so long and hard he knocked places inside her pussy she hadn’t known he could reach. The pressure felt strange but good, as if a different man were taking her. Connor was the only partner she’d ever had. She’d never thought of that as missing out. He wasn’t simply her best friend, he was also a great lover.
Without warning, he shifted angles, the head of his cock now running over some nerve that shot fireworks out the tip of her clitoris. Her pussy flooded as pleasure overwhelmed her, and she groaned helplessly.
“Shush,” he ordered, the scold huffing with excitement. “No talking!”
He pinched her nipple for good measure, but all the little shock of pain accomplished was heightening her pleasure. She bowed her back to open more of herself to his extremely welcome activities.
“I’m in charge,” he growled, even as he accepted her invitation to plunder.
Water churned around them, hopefully masking the actual noises of lovemaking. Masked or not, Georgie swore she wouldn’t groan again. Determined to keep the promise, she gripped the rail for dear life. The sound of Connor’s pelvis slapping her bottom reminded her of his quick spanking. Was he remembering it too? Was the thought titillating him? His cock swelled inside her, and she began mewling. This time he didn’t scold. He was too busy humping her crazily. She was on the edge, tightening, aching, genuinely at his mercy. Connor grunted and slammed as deep as he could go.
She started coming even before he found her clit with three fingers and shimmied the hood firmly. Driven straight to stratospheric pleasure, her pussy contracted rhythmically.
This was what he’d been waiting for. He let out a low approving sound as he poured out his own climax. Heat burst within her—his orgasm pulsing out.
Had she ever felt that so distinctly?
The glow that expanded through her limbs made thinking difficult. Connor kissed her shoulder, pulled gently from her body, and tugged her onto her back to float. Hand in hand, utterly limp and peaceful, they let the hot water cradle them. After a few blissful minutes, Georgie noticed an intricate mosaic sparkling on the high ceiling. The colorful tiles portrayed a graceful female genie smoking out of a golden lamp. Her upper body was solid, her lower a swirl of smoke. The steam that wafted from the pool made it appear as if she too floated.
“We really aren’t in Black Bear anymore,” Georgie said.
“Mm,” was Connor’s sleepy reaction.
She laughed. “I bet being here isn’t that strange to you. You’ve already moved from one dimension to another.”
“Seeing a new one still intrigues me. I’m looking forward to exploring more of Iksander’s world with you.”
“Do you suppose the sultan can turn to smoke like that djinniya?”
“I’d be surprised if he couldn’t,” Connor said serenely.
DJINN HAD PERFECTLY good hearing. In truth, the ears of Iksander’s people were sharper than humans’. Connor’s caution to Georgie notwithstanding, he’d heard the pair just fine over the splashing water—the churn of which had told a clear story.
He’d known what they intended when they entered the bath, of course. They were young and healthy and why wouldn’t they like a lot of sex? That the angel had spanked Georgie was the sole surprise. Iksander hadn’t thought this would interest a divine being.
Imagining what else might interest Connor was better avoided.
Iksander wasn't a monk regarding sex. As the leader of the Glorious City and then the loving spouse of a passionate wife, he’d never been short of outlets for his desires. Realizing Georgie and the angel were engaged in the carnal act caused his body to respond. His annoyingly vigorous erection made the coarse human jeans he wore less comfortable than ever.
His inability to do anything about it made him grumpy, to say the least.
He took his mind off the issue by rearranging the furniture in the dining lounge. They’d found no bunkroom in the derelict power plant—though there might be one somewhere. It didn’t matter. The seating cushions could serve as beds once he’d made space for them and spelled them together.
The distraction must have been successful. The couple’s return caught him unaware. He spun, noting the matching black silk robes that clad their now-sated bodies. The words NEVA DISTRICT POWER—stitched in silver embroidery—adorned each left lapel.
“Oh,” Georgie said, one hand rising to her neck where the robe bared her collarbones. “You moved the tables against the walls.”
“Yes.” He was unable to sound anything but stiff. “I thought the cushions would work as beds.”
“Of course.”
Georgie spoke as if she weren’t really listening. Was she thinking about having sex with the angel again already? Was that why her finger stroked the little hollow at the base of her throat? Had Connor kissed her there? No doubt her flesh was smooth. Firm, as well. She wore nothing beneath the company robe. The curves of her body—breasts, belly, hips—shaped the black silk enticingly.
Iksander wrenched his gaze away. “I shall sleep in the men’s bath. That way we all can have privacy.”
“Don’t do that,” Connor said, jerking Georgie and Iksander’s eyes to him.
A hint of rose had stained Georgie’s cheeks, but the angel’s countenance was serene.
“Don’t?” Iksander repeated, not understanding his objection.
“This is a strange world for me and Georgie. If something unexpected happens, we might need you near to explain.”
The men’s bathing chamber was hardly distant—certainly no more so than the room they’d just emerged from. Temporarily speechless, Iksander gaped at the angel’s expression. He saw no signs of hidden agendas. Connor was smiling pleasantly, his sky blue eyes innocent.
“Perhaps we should stick together,” Georgie said unsurely.
Iksander knew this was silly. Nothing was going to happen. No one even knew they were here. He should say so. Spending the night near these two would only inspire discomfort.
Georgie’s wistful lavender eyes held his. However much their color reminded him of his wife, he knew the soul behind them was different. Georgie had her own independence, her own vulnerabilities. Did he want her to fear her surroundings even if the fear was illogical? He’d survived a night on the floor in her apartment. Wouldn’t he survive this too?
“As you wish,” he said, the surrender gruff. “I suppose there’s room here for all of us.”
“Oh good,” Georgie said. “You can have Connor’s sleeping bag. He and I will unzip mine and share.”
THOUGH THE LAST FEW days had been chaotic, Georgie had no trouble dropping off. The cushion-mattresses Iksander spelled together were seamlessly cushy. Connor lay warm and strong beside her, as he had every night for years. He was correct about the sultan’s presence being reassuring. Knowing the djinni was only feet away made her feel doubly protected.
She relaxed within minutes and went under.
The dreams she had were a jumble that came and went like an old film reel. In one she was back at Ki
nd Shepherd, the group foster home Luna had plucked her out of at sixteen—a lucky break, she’d thought at the time. In the dream, her black cat Titus rescued her instead. A cat can be my guardian, she insisted to anyone who’d listen. After that, she was on a train, clickety-clacking home from the University of Virginia—a campus she’d never set foot on in her life. Her clothing was unfamiliar, her hair long like a goody-goody’s and smoothed back by a strange headband. Iksander will pick me up at the station, her dreaming mind informed her. I’ll be in the real timeline then. The sultan and I will fall in love just like we’re supposed to.
That wasn’t right, though. Connor was her soulmate. He was the man she loved. Water splashed around her, male hands stroking up and down her body. The strokes felt good, except suddenly the water was too hot. Boiling, really, causing fat red blisters to swell up on her skin. She couldn’t breathe. Something heavy was holding her underwater, as if chains anchored her to concrete blocks. She had to get free. She didn’t want to die, but her lungs were desperate for oxygen. She opened her mouth in a helpless gasp, and sun-hot fluid scalded her from within.
Georgie jerked and woke up coughing.
For a second, she thought she’d choke on her own panic.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Connor said, helping her to sit up. “Breathe, Georgie. Everything’s all right.”
His soothing voice helped her to calm down. “Jeesh,” she said as her lungs began functioning again. “I must have squirmed into a weird position and accidentally closed my windpipe.”
A rustling sound and a curse told her Iksander was trying to sit up in his unfamiliar zipped sleeping bag. “What’s wrong? Is someone attacking?”
Georgie laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry. Everything’s fine. I had a nightmare that woke me up.”
“A nightmare.” His tone made it sound as if this were suspicious.
“Just a bad dream. Don’t djinn have those too?”
They’d left the door to bathing chamber cracked, and a few lights were on in there. Though she couldn’t see the color of Iksander’s eyes, the stare he pinned her with was steady. “Of course we have dreams, but they’re not always meaningless.”
Georgie didn’t want to discuss everywhere her subconscious had wandered. “I don’t think mine meant anything. I just dreamed the water in the pool was too hot.”
“You were choking.”
“In the dream. I’m perfectly okay now.”
“I don’t think so. You’re sweating all over.”
“That happens sometimes when people have nightmares.”
Iksander wasn’t paying attention. Letting out an impatient huff, he leaned out and gripped the edge of her and Connor’s mattress, using their greater weight as leverage to slide his own nearer.
“Lie down again,” he ordered. “I’ll show you how djinn set a protection charm.”
She opened her mouth to argue then realized this might be interesting.
“Turn your back to me,” he specified.
Once she’d wriggled into position, he flattened his hand between her shoulder blades. The silk that covered her was thin. The warmth of his palm bleeding through the material stirred an unavoidable sense of him as a man.
She’d already squeezed her knees together before she warned herself to ignore the slight tingle.
“Okay.” The sultan seemed to think. “Do you know the Lord’s Prayer?”
“Sure. That’s the ‘Our Father, which art in Heaven’ one. I should tell you, though, I’m not observant like when I was a kid.”
“That doesn’t matter. You have a connection to the verse, on top of which countless people have repeated those lines with faith. Prayers people believe in make good material for spells. If you’ve forgotten the words, you can repeat them after me.”
She remembered, mostly. Self-consciously, she recited them.
“Good,” Iksander said. “One more time.”
This time, she didn’t stumble. As the prayer left her lips, she had the distinct impression the words marched on tiny bumblebee feet onto her back. One by one, they formed a circle around where his hand was pressed. In her mind’s eye, the letters glowed.
“Hear me,” Iksander said after she uttered the last Amen. “In the name of the Creator, safeguard this woman’s dreams. None shall reach her against Thy will, nor do any but good to her. As Thou wish, so shall it be.”
He spoke quietly but firmly. As he did, the word-circle warmed—sure sign he was charging it with his personal energy. The process tickled, but she tried not to squirm.
Contrary to her expectation, he didn’t remove his touch when he stopped speaking. “I’ll leave my hand here a moment, to make sure the spell will hold.”
Curious, Connor craned around her shoulder to see what the sultan had accomplished. “Ah,” he said. “It’s a tattoo drawn in light. Your magic is very nice, Iksander. Very clean and clear. Thank you for using it to protect Georgie.”
“It is a trifle,” Iksander said formally. “My soul rejoices to be of assistance.”
Though his words were pretty, he spoke with the stiffness Connor especially seemed to bring out in him. Georgie wondered if he resented Connor’s assumption that he had the right to judge Iksander’s skill. Surely the djinni didn’t dispute the angel’s creds. Then again, maybe that was the problem.
With his hand still on her, she closed her eyes. As Connor lay back down beside her, a sleepy question rose in her mind.
Why did Iksander think someone was trying to reach her in her dreams?
Chapter Two
IKSANDER HAD HIS OWN nightmares to contend with, though he didn’t think they were magically inspired. A guilty conscience seemed the likeliest culprit.
Not long ago—in collusion with Taytoch and his crew—he’d allowed Georgie to unwittingly sentence her guardian to an unspecified period of torture.
At the time, Georgie thought she was wishing Luna to the mystical equivalent of a timeout in an out of the way corner. In actuality, the words she’d been manipulated into using—that the empress take a long walk off a short pier—compelled the djinniya to transport herself leagues beneath the sea. Saltwater was caustic to their race, capable of burning flesh from bone. Georgie had also removed a set of iron chains with which the empress had bound Iksander and wrapped them around her instead. One of the qualities of iron was that it sapped djinn strength. Luna no longer had sufficient magic to free herself. To make matters worse, she wouldn’t die quickly. She was a legendary force, with a strong will to live . . . if only to exact revenge on her enemies.
Yet another fact Georgie didn’t know was that Luna owed her two more wishes. If the empress reached Georgie’s sleeping mind, conceivably she could trick the human into cutting short her torture.
The sultan believed Luna deserved to suffer. The atrocities she’d committed against his city, and would have committed in Georgie’s world, weren’t the sort ordinary justice could address. Taytoch had his own grudge against the empress, and he’d urged Iksander not to reveal the truth. Though Iksander had complied thus far, the decision weighed on him. Georgie was tenderhearted. She’d be uncomfortable with the torment to which she’d unknowingly condemned the djinniya. She might prefer that Luna die mercifully. Iksander could have stood that, but what if Georgie thought Luna ought to be put on trial? To allow the empress a single breath of freedom might put literal worlds in danger.
Iksander didn’t think he could risk putting so many people’s fates in the hands of a sheltered human female.
Not surprisingly, he woke after having slept fitfully.
A quick soak in the men’s bath helped wash off his uncomfortable thoughts. When he returned to the employee lounge, Connor was gone and Georgie was digging clean underwear out of her coarse backpack. Though her robe was securely tied, the way she leaned down meant she might as well have been naked.
Do not blush, he ordered his stiffening face.
“Oh,” she said, straightening as she noted his entry. The hand that held
her bra and panties balled the garments beside her hip. “You’re back. Connor and I found some street clothes in the lockers. They looked light for winter, but we were wondering if we should replace what we brought. You know, try to look more like locals when we’re walking around outside.”
Georgie knew she’d made him self-conscious. She gestured with her empty hand toward the table where she and the angel had folded and set their finds.
Iksander went to examine them. “Yes, these will blend better than human styles. We should search for coats as well. Perhaps they are stored in another room.” Since he was feeling more in control, he turned his head to her. “Your leather pants will be acceptable. Some women wear trousers here.”
“Great!” The brilliant grin she flashed made his pulse skip slightly. “Those pants are my favorites. They make me feel confident.”
He hadn’t thought her confidence needed boosting. In the short time he’d known . . . this version of her, her fashion choices had all been bold.
This didn’t feel like an observation he ought to make.
“Yes,” he said, less than wittily. Her grin faltered, so perhaps his expression was as blockish as his tongue.
“Hey, Georgie—” Connor emerged from the women’s bath with his black robe half-tied. The masculine V of chest thus exposed was oddly distracting. “Oh, hey, Iksander.” The angel’s smile was open and happy, per usual. His hand fell easily to his lover’s shoulder, as if it belonged there. “Did Georgie tell you about the clothes we found?”
“Yes,” he said, the repetition making him feel stupid. His generally good conversational skills seemed to have deserted him. “I was about to search the power plant further, in hope of finding coats.”
He hadn’t been about to do anything of the sort. Sultans delegated menial tasks. All the same, when he left the room and the cozy couple, the emotion that filled him was relief.