by Emma Holly
She guessed resistance wasn’t the same as immunity.
Apparently pegging her as the troublemaker, the soldiers cuffed her first.
The heavy manacles were black metal with a length of chain between them. Georgie winced at their tightness, but when Iksander’s went on, he hissed. The cuffs were iron, to which djinn were allergic.
Connor’s acting ability was equal to hissing too.
“Grab the vessel,” one soldier said. “We need it for evidence.”
He meant their magic jug. Iksander looked at it and then at Feodor. Georgie surmised he made his contempt for snitches clear.
“You’re broke the law,” the coffee vendor sniffed. “Worse, you led decent people into sin. I did my duty by turning you riffraff in.”
Neisha’s mother had been holding onto her daughter, but Feodor’s attitude proved too much for the girl’s temper. Breaking free, she rushed at him and beat his coat.
“Traitor!” she accused. “Georgie was helping us. You ruined everything.”
“Be glad I didn’t lay charges against you, brat.”
“I’ll scratch your eyes out, you mean old man!”
“Neisha,” Georgie and her mother scolded at the same time. Neither wanted the soldiers to intervene.
“But it’s nothing!” Neisha cried. “Luna’s troops do worse every day.”
“Neisha,” Georgie repeated. “We’ll be all right. We’ll serve our sentence or pay our fine or whatever we need to do. You listen to your mother.”
Neisha scowled, but her mother had her under control by then.
“I’m watching you,” the girl satisfied herself by warning the soldiers.
A few of them laughed but not maliciously. They seemed amused by the girl’s spirit.
When Georgie’s gaze crossed Iksander’s, he nodded. She guessed he thought she’d done the right thing. She prayed he was correct, but she didn’t feel confident.
Chapter Nine
THE CRIMINAL COLLECTION van was a black metal vehicle set on sleigh runners. The cab at the front was large enough to hold the soldiers, its slitted horizontal windows reminiscent of human tanks. With roughness but not cruelty, they shoved Iksander and his companions onto benches in the rear compartment. Their chains were locked to rings on the floor, which quashed the sultan’s vague hope of escaping.
“Stay with them,” the captain ordered two of the men. “If they act up, jolt them again.”
The rest of his team must have boarded speedily. The van slid into motion in under a minute.
“Where are you taking us?” Iksander asked the pair guarding them.
“Wherever we want,” was the senior djinni’s unpromising response.
All right, Iksander thought. Let’s try another tack.
“Is there anything we could do to make you want it less? We have means of rewarding those who are kind to us.”
Reputedly, Luna’s troops could be bribed if they thought it wouldn’t be discovered. Reports of their empress’s demise might increase that tendency. Sadly, these djinn weren’t interested in—or perhaps doubted his ability to deliver—the lure he dangled. Both curled their lips disdainfully.
“Save your breath,” said the elder. “You’re going where you’re going. The command to collect you came from way up.”
The sultan sat back to mull this over. What dignitary’s attention could they have attracted? The theater project was small potatoes, on top of which the coffee vendor seemed unlikely to know anyone important. If the iron cuffs hadn’t damped Iksander’s powers, he’d have tried to spell answers from their captors. He shifted his gaze to Connor. The angel was chained next to Georgie on the bench opposite. He had heaps of charm, none of which were compromised by his shackles.
“Pardon,” Connor said politely, seeming to understand the message. “Are we permitted to know the crimes we’ve been accused of?”
Those dreamy eyes of his barely needed magic. As he met them, the younger guard’s face softened. “Concealing magical revenues from the state. And proscribed magic collection.”
His partner smacked him for answering.
“What?” asked the younger djinni. “Who cares if they know that?”
Iksander cared a bit. The charges suggested Georgie and Connor’s natures remained unknown. Fortunately, the magic they commanded convinced people they were djinn. Then there was his awkward identity. Imagine if these guards realized they had their alleged worst enemy in their van. No, he’d very much prefer their secrets stay buried.
He clamped his mouth shut on more questions. The van traveled smoothly, only a slight sway to its motion. After a few minutes it sped up, leading him to conclude they’d left the densest portion of the capital. Narrow downtown streets couldn’t be traversed this swiftly. Regrettably, without windows, guessing where they went was impossible.
Across the way from him, Georgie had closed her eyes. She wasn’t asleep. Her brow was puckered, her lips pressed worriedly together. Her chains had sufficient play that she could reach her left forearm with her right hand. She squeezed the limb through her coat sleeve as if it hurt.
No, he thought. She wasn’t injured. She was attempting to activate the protective tattoo she had under there, and praying silently to do so. Under other circumstances, this wouldn’t have been a bad idea. Under this one, it was deadly. If the guards sensed her doing magic, they’d know she wasn’t a djinniya. Theoretically, her magic was superior to theirs. In practice, they couldn’t count on it. She’d fallen when they jolted her with their firearms. They’d been able to compel her. If they upped the power, she might suffer worse damage. That they would up the power if they felt her working a spell, he didn’t doubt for an instant.
The air was already tingling subtly when he kicked her foot.
Georgie jerked and opened her eyes.
“Stay awake,” he snapped, hoping she read his silent message to stop what she was doing.
Connor understood. He took the hand she’d been gripping her tattoo with, rubbing it as if to comfort her.
“Sweet,” the senior guard commented acerbically. “You three make romantic prisoners.”
Since he seemed not to have noticed what Georgie did, Iksander didn’t let his expression respond to this.
He tensed and braced as the van’s motion changed. They were gliding downward, and at a steep angle. The sounds outside echoed, so maybe they’d entered a tunnel. He’d expected to end up at a justice center, somewhere with lawyers and short-term holding cells. Were they being brought to an actual jail—as in, a place with fortifications they’d find difficult to escape?
Wherever they were, the van soon stopped. The other guards tramped out in their hard-soled boots to open the rear doors. Belatedly, Iksander wondered why so many djinn were necessary to control a few. But perhaps this was standard state procedure, to stomp out misbehavior before it turned to rebellion.
The guards detached their chains from the floor and hooked the three of them in a line. Once they were led out with Iksander at the front, he studied their surroundings. They did appear to be underground. The large, low space was clad in dark granite and supported by thick round columns. Magically powered torches barely pushed back the grim shadows. He saw no other vehicles, no windows or identifying signs.
The air was cold and stale.
“Welcome to the Oubliette,” said the guard who’d answered Connor’s question.
The sultan knew an oubliette was a sort of dungeon. The young soldier said it like a nickname.
“Come,” said the soldier’s captain, gesturing them down a long arched hall.
The hall ended at a booth with a uniformed official behind a glass window.
“Names,” he prompted in an indifferent tone.
Iksander’s mind stalled for a second before remembering what he’d told the people from Prospekt Market. “Andrei Popovich of Riga Province. And these are my companions, Georgie and Connor.”
The official jotted this on his scroll. He looked up and
pursed his lips. “The theater skimming case.”
“Yes,” the guard behind them confirmed.
“Put them in Blue 25.”
“Together?” Their keeper sounded surprised.
“Yes, but no visitors and no messages in or out.”
Iksander supposed this also meant no lawyers. That bothered him, but he’d committed to going along with this. They seemed in no imminent danger. Certainly, not being separated was a good sign. Until he knew more, trying to strategize was pointless.
Six of the guards conducted them through a series of featureless corridors. Periodic prickles of magic suggested doors existed that were concealed by spells. At the end of a lacquered navy hall, the captain pressed his palm to a depression and caused a section to slide open.
“In,” he ordered, waving them toward the cell. As there seemed to be little choice, they went.
“Could these be removed?” Connor asked politely, lifting his shackled wrists.
The captain stared for a long cool moment then jerked his head for one of the others to unlock them.
“Behave,” he said in parting. “This facility has harsher accommodations for those who cause trouble.”
“Well,” Georgie said after the door slid shut and magically disappeared again. “So much for our one phone call. At least it’s warmer here.”
Judging by the pair of bunks stacked on either side, the cell was intended for four inmates. Georgie pulled off her coat, tossed it onto a lower mattress, and looked around. Like the hall outside, the walls were navy and lacquered smooth. A dome light on the ceiling provided a dim blue glow, revealing an open doorway to the right and the corner of one white sink. On the floor, cushions surrounded a low table. Iksander supposed this meant at some point they’d be fed.
God, this sucked—as the humans said.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” he apologized. “I appreciate how calm you’re being.”
“Compared to what I was expecting, this place is luxe. And, hey, that’s a separate bathroom. We have an en suite jail cell.” Georgie touched Connor’s arm to get his attention. With one finger, she indicated her eye and then her ear. “Can you tell?”
“Let me check,” he said, understanding her shorthand. He breathed slowly in and out, his features smoothing into tranquility. “No, I sense no watch spells. I don’t think we’re being observed.” He cocked his head as a new thought arose. “That’s interesting. I wonder if we’re actually under arrest.”
“We’re locked up,” Georgie pointed out.
“Yes, but only we are. If whoever collected us were truly bothered by our offense, wouldn’t they have taken Timur and the others too?”
“Feodor only wanted outsiders gone.”
“I don’t think Feodor’s calling the shots, do you?”
“I suppose not.” Georgie tugged two handfuls of shaggy hair as if this aided her thought process. “They kept us together. They must not care if we coordinate stories.”
“Maybe where we are will turn out to be useful.”
Georgie looked at her lover. “Is that what your gut tells you?”
Connor shrugged. “When I search my being, I’m not afraid.”
“You never are.”
“Sometimes for you, I am.”
“Okay, so maybe we’re all right, just . . . up in the air.”
“Or down in the ground.” Connor laughed at his own humor. “You know, in the oubliette.”
She made a face at his feeble pun, seeming amused nonetheless. The pair certainly had a rhythm when they conversed. Because feeling shut out by that struck Iksander as unproductive, he moved to examine something about the walls that raised a flag for him.
“These have an inlay of iron,” he said. “It’s not heavy, but I don’t think we should mistake ourselves for guests.”
“Will it hurt you?” Georgie asked.
“I don’t believe so. I won’t, however, be smoking out to reconnoiter invisibly.”
Georgie’s manner turned considering. “You could have smoked away before they closed in on us.”
“Of course I couldn’t have! How could I leave you two after all you’ve risked to help me? In any case, the guards would have shot me down no matter what form I took. Those weapons of theirs aren’t toys.”
“You just thought of that now. It never crossed your mind to escape.”
“Your suggestion that I would have if I’d been quicker is insulting.”
“Is it?” Georgie’s winged brows lifted. “Maybe you’d have reasoned you could rescue us later if you were free.”
“Yes,” Connor chimed dolefully. “I think you like us too much. Being that careful of our well being wasn’t strategic.”
Iksander began to splutter. Georgie broke into a laugh.
“Teasing,” she said. “We’re glad you didn’t abandon us.”
They were teasing him? Didn’t they know how concerned he was? Maybe he had made the wrong decision. Connor’s gut didn’t prove anything to him. They could all die here, and it would be his fault. His fingers bunched into fists, the tension inside him unbearable.
He couldn’t be responsible for these two ceasing to exist.
“Iksander,” Georgie said, reaching out to soothe.
“To hell with it,” he bit out. He grabbed her upper arms, pulled her onto her toes, and sealed his mouth to hers.
She didn’t take more than a twinkling to respond. As she did, arousal rolled through him in a scorching wave. Her tongue slid against his, her strong arms embracing him. They made simultaneous sounds as her breasts flattened on his chest. Damn his coat anyway. He wrestled out of it and circled her tighter. He nipped her jaw and kissed down her neck.
“’sander,” she gasped, not getting out his whole name. She clung to him and slid one leg up his side.
Holy hell, he was stiff, his cock like iron and nearly as strength-sapping. He clutched her ass in his hands, one cheek for each greedy palm, urging her to roll more strongly up his throbbing groin. He claimed her mouth again, diving deep, sucking hard. Georgie’s hands ironed up and down his back.
When he pulled away, they were both gasping. Georgie’s cheeks flamed the color of red roses.
“Well,” she said once she found her breath. “If that’s how you respond to life and death situations . . .”
She wasn’t objecting, though she wasn’t completely at ease either. Remembering why that might be, he glanced at Connor. The angel leaned against the wall nearby, hands pressed flat beside his hips, one knee hitched up so that the sole of his foot braced him. He hadn’t completely dressed following the play. His coat was gone, his torso shirtless and muscular beneath it. His smile was slight but discernible.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Connor said with a drollness that took him by surprise. “I’m as interested in watching as I am in being kissed like that myself.”
“You’re really okay with this?” Georgie asked.
Connor’s celestial eyes gleamed with fondness. “You know how much love I have in me. You and Iksander are the only ones who need to worry about hurt feelings.”
“I love you,” she said as if she wanted to ensure he knew.
He smiled. “I know you do, Georgie.” The angel’s glittering gaze shifted to Iksander, which made something inside him swoop. “Don’t be afraid. Her heart has room for you.”
Was that what frightened him? Iksander wasn’t certain. All his life, even before he’d assumed the sultanate, other djinn revolved around him. He ruled the cloud-piercing peak, with no one else above. Would being given “room” satisfy him? Wouldn’t he wish to reign supreme?
Connor pushed off the wall before he could decide. He laid a hand on Iksander’s shoulder like an old friend. “You have permission. Hers and mine. Are you going to waste this chance to enjoy everything you want?”
The most incredible surge of lust cleared his mind of doubt.
“No,” he said huskily. “I’m not.”
Connor grinned. Befo
re the angel could say something silly or delighted, Iksander grabbed his face for a kiss. Their teeth clashed as each attempted to take control. Having to fight for the upper hand was exciting, though perhaps the thrill shouldn’t have surprised him.
Hadn’t every second of their wrestling bouts been leading up to this?
When Connor muscled him toward the wall, shoving him into it with his weight, he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to resist or melt. Both maybe. Connor had Iksander’s hands. At some point, he’d trapped them on the wall by his head. Iksander tugged against his grip but couldn’t break the hold. The shiver that swept his spine said maybe he didn’t want to. That was exciting too. His pelvis rolled back at the other male’s, arousal chasing through his nerves as he massaged his hardness full length along Connor’s.
Connor tore his mouth free to gasp with pleasure. Iksander couldn’t let that weakness slide without trying to exploit it. Yanking one hand loose, he shoved it between their hips to cup and squeeze the angel’s erection.
Connor moaned then shook his head like a dog flinging off water.
“Help me out here,” he said through gritted teeth. “I want to subdue him.”
He was asking Georgie to assist. Iksander twitched before he could stop himself. Georgie laughed but not like Connor had been joking.
“I’d be happy to help,” she said. “I know how much you like taking charge.”
“Wait,” Iksander said, suddenly alarmed.
“You don’t want us ganging up on you?” Connor asked.
Desire spiked through his cock so strongly he had to squirm. “Maybe I do, but . . . this isn’t how I usually do things.”
“Would you like a safe word?” Connor asked politely.