“Speaking of perfection,” a woman behind her muttered. “You ever seen anything tastier than those two fit devils grappling shirtless?”
Aziza was too busy catching her breath to answer.
Ram and a man she didn’t recognize moved together in a dance-like circle on the exercise mat, close enough to either kiss or beat each other bloody as they ducked kicks, dodged punches and held each other’s arms down. The spectacle was breathtakingly erotic.
Her Jinn was still godlike and beautiful, but the word “pretty” was no longer entirely accurate. His time in exile had hardened him, made him look more like the warrior he was than the mischievous, deviant devil she’d first met. He’d cut his hair close to his head in a militant look and his side still carried the slashing scar from the wound he’d suffered that ateful night. The solid cuff on his wrist that she knew couldn’t be removed glinted as he threw a punch, reminding her that his actions had left more than physical scars behind.
He was stronger, his lean muscles more defined than they had been a few weeks ago. When she first met him she’d thought, despite his behavior, he looked like an angel. Now, he was all man.
Ram bent his knees and rolled, a move that should have knocked his opponent on his ass, but instead the man jumped with a laugh and winked at the audience. “Fool me once…”
A collective sigh echoed through the crowd, and Aziza wasn’t any more immune than they were to the smiling stranger. She’d been surrounded by hot men for months, and yet this man still managed to startle her with his attractiveness. It was as if someone had taken all the best qualities of her hunky entourage and poured them into one cool, lean package that reminded her a little bit of a young, short-haired Lenny Kravitz.
And she’d had an all-out, posters-in-her-high-school-locker crush on Lenny.
The man had obviously been getting a workout because his light-brown skin was gleaming. He wore low-riding black sweatpants and nothing else, and what she’d at first assumed were tattoos, on closer inspection merged into a series of scars across his chest, raised marks that had form and had obviously been put there on purpose. Designed. Scarification? He had small-gauge piercings in his ears as well. They only made him look more masculine and dangerous. So did his eight-pack abs.
He’s different.
Something drew her in, but Aziza honestly wasn’t sure if that was instinct or hormones talking. As if her hormones hadn’t been getting enough of a workout already. Would they never be satisfied?
At that moment, Ram took advantage of the man’s posturing to flip him into the air and onto his back, then covered him with his torso to hold him down.
Aziza squirmed. Speaking of erotic… The only way the scene could have been hotter was if she were naked between them. Or if Ram claimed the sexy spoils of his victory as she watched.
Oh yeah. She was shameless, and getting worse all the time. It must be the Jinn in her.
Ram grinned down at his vanquished opponent. “…shame on you. Isn’t that how your sentence ends?”
The people around her clapped, and when Ram raised his emerald eyes to accept the accolades, his gaze crashed into hers with a force that made her knees weak. He frowned abruptly. “Show’s over.”
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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Witches’ Waves
Copyright © 2014 by Teresa Noelle Roberts
ISBN: 978-1-61922-433-9
Edited by Jessica Corra
Cover by Angela Waters
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: November 2014
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Witches' Waves Page 31