The thought of losing her made his stomach knot, but he didn’t try to hide from the pain. He’d learned a long time ago that nothing lasts forever, and it was better to accept and face the fact. What did worry him was that she’d be going back to her normal life, never knowing when or if Mahmud would turn up again. And if he did, to what lengths he might go to take her back to the jinn city.
He’d tried to talk to her about it. While she’d finally admitted to being saddened by her father’s death and hurt that her brother hadn’t bothered to tell her about it himself, she’d steadfastly refused to discuss Mahmud. They’d even talked about her father protecting her through the years. She thought Mahmud had made the story up, for some nefarious reason. Vidar had seen the set cast of her face and hadn’t bothered to argue, but he’d wondered if she dismissed the idea too easily. If her father hadn’t been protecting her, then why had Mahmud waited all this time to go after her?
As though hearing his thoughts, she murmured and rolled onto her side, facing away from him. She curled into a ball, the movement causing the sheet to slip, exposing the curve of her hip and an enticing, rounded buttock. Immediately his libido, and his cock, stood up and took notice. The urge to crawl back into bed with her, wake her and make love with her again was almost too strong to resist, but he resolutely put on his clothes instead and made his way out of the bedroom. He’d already woken her twice that day. It would be cruel to deprive her of any more rest.
But he was edgy, had no desire to sleep. It would be another few hours before the sun went down and he could get on with his sorely neglected chores. Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he chuckled. The wolves had been giving him extremely baleful looks the last few days, as he rushed through moving the sheep, feeding and watering the stock. They were used to his company and weren’t amused by him hastening back to the house and Jasmina. Rokk in particular seemed to take exception to it, but that was probably because he wanted Jasmina’s attention for himself. The one night she’d ventured out with him, the white wolf hardly paid any attention to his work. All he wanted to do was loll at the jinn’s feet, begging to have his belly rubbed.
Vidar knew exactly how he felt.
Wandering into the library, he ran his fingers over the spines of the books on the nearest shelf. Reading had always been an escape, a way to see the world outside, but even that held no appeal. His mind kept circling back to the woman sleeping in his bed, the dilemma of loving her. He’d never been happier or more afraid in his life, and the juxtaposition of those emotions seemed determined to drive him a little insane.
He’d be fine when she left, as long as he knew she was safe. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he acknowledged that for the big, fat lie it was. He’d never be fine without her, but he could take it, survive, if she were safe. When he’d suggested she try to contact her brother, Ahmet, she’d brushed the idea aside. She’d spoken so fondly of him Vidar couldn’t understand her hesitance, and she refused to say why. It was incomprehensible to him that her brother wouldn’t help if asked.
Someone else would have to do the asking if Jasmina wouldn’t.
The idea took root, making Vidar sink down into an armchair, his legs suddenly wobbly. It would mean figuring out where he was going, the time difference, translocating there and back. The first part wouldn’t be hard. For years he’d pretended he was going to take a trip, plotted his journey, figured out the time he needed to leave home so as to reach his destination at sundown. Of course he’d never actually gone anywhere, still too bound by his fear of translocating to actually make any of the meticulously planned excursions.
If ever there was a time to put his phobia aside again, this was it.
For Jasmina.
For her safety and happiness, he’d dare anything.
Energized, he retrieved his book of world maps and The Faie Almanac, taking them over to his desk. Fifteen minutes later he leaned back in his chair and rubbed at the stubble on his cheek. According to the almanac, it was just after sunset in Eldmar, the ideal time for him to go. And while he had no idea how to find her family once he got there, at least it gave him the entire night to make inquiries. Even if he had to go back another time, he could make a start tonight.
But it was an effort to get up, to put away the books. Sweat gathered on his brow and trickled down his spine despite the coolness of the room, but he steeled himself.
For Jasmina.
With that thought he closed his eyes and brought to mind the picture of the souk in Eldmar he’d just been looking at. With a deep breath he gathered his courage and magic and translocated.
The noise hit him first, the cries of hawkers, blaring music, laughter and swift, incomprehensible chatter. Then the scents bombarded him—exotic spices and perfumes, overlaying the distinctive smell of a city. The heat struck next, making him wish he’d worn something lighter than his usual flannel and sheepskin. Opening his eyes, he stared. The colors and movement of the marketplace, which was lit by sparkling orbs, was dazzling, as was the incredible beauty of the people moving through the narrow street. Frightened, he pressed back into the shadows of the building behind him, trying to get his bearings, his mind spinning.
Someone caught sight of him despite his effort to be inconspicuous, the woman touching her companion’s arm and pointing. Not surprising, really. He stood head and shoulders above everyone, was as fair as they all were dark and incredibly ugly in comparison to the amazingly and almost uniformly beautiful beings drifting past.
In what seemed like an instant everyone in the vicinity was staring at him, and Vidar had to force himself not to just translocate back to the safety of his home.
For Jasmina.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped away from the building, looked around, hoping for a friendly face, someone he could ask for help.
“Hey, mister.” There was a tug at the hem of his vest, and he looked down. Somewhere in the vicinity of his knees was a little boy, his face split in a wide grin that belied the caution in his gaze. “You want a tour of the souk? One gold piece.”
It was too much to hope the boy would be able to give him the information he needed, but Vidar knew he had to start somewhere. At least the urchin spoke the common tongue.
“I don’t want a tour, but I’ll give you the gold coin if you can tell me where to find the Elalmadhoun family. Ahmet Elalmadhoun, to be precise.”
The boy drew back, blinked his big, brown eyes at Vidar, as though he thought him a bit touched. “You’re joking, right?”
“No.” Vidar frowned, saw the lad take a cautious step back. “Why would I be?”
“Because everyone knows that’s where you’ll find him.” Vidar followed the finger pointing across the tops of the shops, up a nearby hill to the brilliantly lit castle at the top. “Where else would the king be?”
King? Jasmina’s brother is king of the jinn? That makes her…
“Oh Freyja.”
His heart dropped down into the space left by his stomach, which had migrated with wrenching speed into his boots.
Jasmina was a princess.
Impossible.
And yet, apparently not.
Who knows how long he would have stood there, staring at the palace, if his companion hadn’t courageously tugged at his vest again.
“You still going to give me the coin, mister? I told you what you asked.”
Vidar forced his gaze back to the boy, who had once more moved to a cautious distance. But he wasn’t really seeing him. Instead his mind was whirling, trying to come to grips with what he now knew. How ridiculous was he, a mountain troll, trying to appeal to a king on a princess’s behalf? Why hadn’t she told him? Didn’t she trust him? She must find the entire situation highly amusing. Even what he’d seen as Freyja’s approval of his love for Jasmina now appeared to have been mockery.
The thought left a sour, nasty taste in the back of his throat.
“Mister?”
He focused on the child, reached into his p
ocket for a coin, but another thought made him hesitate.
Did it matter what she was? Did it make the danger she was in any less? And could he walk away without at least trying to help?
Taking out two coins, he showed them to the boy. “There’s another one for you, if you can tell me how to get into the palace to talk to the king.”
The urchin’s eyes danced with glee, his grin widening. “Follow me.”
* * * * *
Jasmina woke up and reached for Vidar, but all her hand encountered was cool cotton sheets. Rolling over, she cracked one eye open and scanned the room, but he was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t think it was night yet, but being unable to see the sun for the last few days had been disorienting, so she wasn’t sure.
“Vidar?”
Sitting up, she listened, but there was no response. In fact the house seemed particularly quiet.
He was probably outside tending the sheep, but it felt weird to wake up without him beside her or, more precisely, not to be woken up by him. Tingling heat rushed through her groin and fanned out to the rest of her body as she remembered waking up earlier to the slow, delicate caress of his tongue. Damn, but the man loved to eat pussy, and she loved being on the receiving end of that talented mouth. He was so sexually adventurous, willing to try anything she suggested, just thinking about it made her get all hot and bothered again. He was turning her into a complete sex maniac.
But she wasn’t complaining. Jasmina grinned and stretched.
Life was exceedingly good.
Her stomach rumbled, propelling her out of bed although she really could have used a couple more hours of sleep. After a quick bath, she threw on a robe and made her way to the kitchen. Standing at the counter, munching on bread, figs and one of the sweet, ripe oranges they’d picked the night before, she looked around. Vidar’s home both fascinated and soothed her. There was a stark beauty to it, a simplicity she really loved. Although she’d want to introduce a bit more color, it was easy to imagine herself living there permanently.
Luckily she had no problem translocating wherever she wanted to go, so she could continue working. Maybe she’d ask Hervé if she could take the afternoon shift, juggle her hours a bit to make sure she spent as much time with Vidar as possible. Loving a troll meant no daytime excursions with him, but he didn’t seem to need a lot of sleep, despite how hard he worked. She’d want the early part of the day with him, and part of the night. She shrugged to herself. They’d work it all out.
But as she chewed slowly, she wondered if she was getting ahead of herself. Vidar had said he loved her, had seemed as enthralled with her as she was with him, but hadn’t said anything about making their relationship permanent.
A sensation like cold water trickled down her spine and, appetite deserting her, she put the last of the bread back on the plate. To be fair, she hadn’t said anything to him either. Maybe it was just his natural reticence holding him back. While he made love with firm decisiveness, in most other matters he was more inclined to thoughtfulness and deliberation.
Lifting her chin, Jasmina decided she’d broach the subject herself, since he didn’t seem disposed to do it. She needed to know what he was thinking, and also let him know how she felt. Full disclosure.
Her stomach lurched at the thought.
That would also mean telling him everything about her family, explaining about the whole being royal pain-in-the-ass.
By the stars, she hoped it wouldn’t make a difference to him, hoped that by telling him about it in an abstract, “yeah, it’s no big deal” way he’d just accept it. She hadn’t really been royalty in a very long time, had no intention of ever going back to that stifling, formal way of life. Not even if her family said they’d accept her back into the fold, although the desert would turn into a sea before that happened. Thank the stars he’d never seen where she came from. Shit, he’d be horrified by the phony, rarified atmosphere, where everything had to be beautiful, perfect, embellished and gilded to within an inch of existence.
She knew how much better a simple life was, but there were few others who’d truly understand the way she felt. All she could do was hope Vidar would, and that he’d forgive her for not telling him sooner.
Anxiety had her pacing out of the kitchen, wandering down the corridor to the library, another of her favorite places in the house. Vidar’s collection of books was astounding, covering every possible subject imaginable, each category neatly grouped together. When he’d shyly admitted to having read almost all of them, she’d realized just how insatiable his thirst for knowledge was. Idly running a finger over some of the titles, she became determined to one day coax him into seeing for himself some of what he’d only read about. His fear of translocating notwithstanding. There was so much she wanted to show him, share with him…
Jasmina stopped, stared for a moment at the title of the book in front of her nose. Kissing for the Uninitiated. A giggle rose in her chest as she realized the book must be from when he was young, just getting interested in women. A warm, sweet ache flooded her chest as she imagined him at that age, trying to make sense out of the opposite sex and what was supposed to happen when he started dating. Only too well she remembered her mother’s discomfort as they had the conversation, and how totally unnerving it all had seemed. Her smile faded as she realized Vidar hadn’t had anyone to explain sex, relationships, any of it to him.
Somehow I doubt his goddess would take on such a task.
He’d had to teach himself, and she thought he’d done a magnificent job.
Turning the book over in her hands, she went to put it back on the shelf, then paused with it suspended in midair. It looked awfully new, shiny, although the spine showed signs of wear. And the author—wasn’t she the latest sensation? Billing herself as the Sorceress of Love, with a late-night show on the Witch Channel? Why would Vidar buy a book like that?
Slowly, she turned it over in her hands and, with a weird, hollow feeling in her belly, opened it somewhere in the middle. There was a highlighted section, and her eyes immediately went to it.
If you’re unsure, take your time. Learn your lover’s mouth with your own, the shape of his or her lips, the way they move against yours. Then use the tip of your tongue to explore. No sloppy licking now, please. Their lips may be sweet, but they’re not an ice-cream cone.
And in the margin, in neat, surprisingly small writing:
Not sure I’d be able to restrain myself if I ever got the chance to kiss J. Have to try to keep my head enough to go slowly.
She slapped the book shut, a mixture of shock and horror rising into her throat. It sounded as though…
Jasmina shook her head.
Nah. No way.
Her gaze rose from the lurid cover of the book in her hand to the shelf she’d gotten it from. The next book over was Making it Worth Her While, subtitled Making Love for Idiots. After that was Being Shy Won’t Make Her Come, followed by Better Late Than Never. And, as if it needed explaining, the latter had in small, red letters along the spine, Losing Your Virginity After 30, or 300.
Jasmina tried to take a deep breath, but it stuck in her throat.
No. Fucking. Way.
After shoving the book back onto the shelf, she stumbled over to the nearest chair, getting to it just before her trembling legs gave out.
She’d been his first? Inconceivable! He was so good at making love, seemed so confident. Every time had been amazing, wonderful, absolutely perfect. And yet his shyness, his reluctance at first, even when she pretty much threw herself at him, made it seem more possible.
Covering her face with her hands, Jasmina tried to get her head to stop spinning long enough to think. If she’d known, she’d have…
What? Been gentle with him?
A rough laugh broke from her throat. In all honesty, she probably wouldn’t have initiated the relationship at all. Just thinking about the responsibility of taking his virginity made her tremble with nervousness, even though the deed was already done.
>
I’m his first, his only lover.
It awed and humbled her, made warmth and love bloom and grow in her chest. How precious was the knowledge that he’d picked her for his first sexual experience, had even tried to learn as much as he could so as to make it good for her too? She hugged her arms around her waist, still in a daze. By the stars, she hoped it had been worth the wait for him. She knew he’d enjoyed it. For fuck’s sake, he couldn’t get enough now…
Jasmina drew a ragged breath, the thought echoing with sickening force through her head.
Now that he knew what to do, knew how good it felt, would he want to experiment, find other women to sleep with? Sure, he said he loved her. Of course he’d feel that way about his first. Didn’t everyone? Until the novelty wore off and he started wondering what else lay out there in the world he was only starting to explore.
For most beings she knew, sex was as natural as breathing. There would be no shortage of women available and eager to broaden his knowledge. Jasmina imagined him realizing that, wanting someone else, and the pain of it made her gasp. Jinn women were supposed to be used to sharing their men, since most were one of several wives, but just the thought of sharing Vidar with another woman made Jasmina slightly nauseated. Somehow she’d just assumed that, like her, he’d had his share of sexual experience and would now be willing to settle down.
Being his first changed all that.
“By the stars, Vidar.” Her voice was a croak, threatening tears making her throat tight and painful. “Why didn’t you tell me, so I could be prepared?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” His voice came from behind her, causing her to spin around in the chair. Like his expression, his tone was cold and hard, and ice skittered down her spine. “But I was about to ask you the same question.”
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