StoneHardPassion

by Anya Richards

Chapter Eleven

  Vidar was clearly enraged, but there was something different about his anger this time. Maybe because she knew him better now, the stark, contained cast of his face, his stiff posture seemed to radiate more than just anger. He seemed…she couldn’t be exactly sure. Hurt maybe? Perhaps even sad? Had he been there when she was looking at the books? No, that wasn’t possible. She’d have seen him when she crossed to the chair. And if she didn’t know better, she could swear there was a tingle of magic in the air, as though he’d just translocated into the room.

  Her heart started racing, and she wasn’t sure why.

  Jasmina got to her feet to face him. “What are you talking about?”

  The muscle in the side of his face was ticking and he didn’t reply, just held out his hand. In his palm sat a tiny, bejeweled gold box, one of the devices used by the jinn to communicate securely with each other. Horribly familiar, since it was emblazoned with the royal Elalmadhoun crest.

  Her heart stopped for a moment. Her blood turned to ice. The room swam sickeningly and she had to clutch the back of the chair for balance.

  “Where did you get that?” Shock made her voice shrill and, when he didn’t reply immediately, she asked again, this time with fear spiking into her belly. “Vidar, where did you get it?”

  “I went to see your brother, Your High—”

  “Don’t!” By the stars, she wanted to blast him into a thousand pieces for that, her anger so sudden, hot and fierce she could feel sweat break out across her entire body. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

  His brows lifted. “But isn’t that your official title?”

  “Fuck off.” Rage, fear and threatening heartbreak put her on the defensive, made her want to show him how far she was from that title. From anything to do with that stilted, falsely polite world. “Do I look or sound like a fucking princess to you? If you met my brother, the comparison should be clear.”

  Vidar’s head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowed, but his voice was low and expressionless as he replied, “Actually the resemblance is marked. Any doubts I had about whether he was your brother were put to rest the moment I saw him.”

  Jasmina closed her eyes, shutting him out as she tried to rein in the anger, fight the terror. There were only a few feet of space between them, but it felt as if a chasm had opened at her feet, trapping them on opposite sides.

  She tightened her hold on the chair just to have an anchor against the ugly, devastating emotions battering her heart. Right at this moment she actually hated him, hated that he’d destroyed the peace she’d found with him, the love. How could he go behind her back to do something like this?

  “Don’t you want to hear what your brother had to say?”

  Still expressionless, his voice seemed to come from a distance, and it jolted her, brought her back to herself. Schooling her face, drawing on the very palace training she’d grown to despise, she opened her eyes.

  “I suppose I must, since you went to so much trouble to speak to him.”

  Almost shocking, even to her, how cool she sounded. And her hand was steady as she held it out for the box. Actually, her entire body felt encased in ice, as though the coldness from Vidar’s eyes had flowed into her bones.

  The box was still hot from his hand, but she resisted the urge to close her fingers around it, capture some of the warmth. Instead she immediately murmured the spell to unlock it and the golden casket disappeared, releasing the image of her brother that had been trapped inside. Ahmet looked older, which was surprising since jinn men often used glamours to retain their youthful appearance. Older, sterner and just a bit tired, probably from assuming what had been their father’s responsibilities.

  Tears prickled her eyes, as she acknowledged for the first time just how much she missed him.

  “Jasmina Binaar, my sister.” Ahmet’s image smiled, and Jasmina found herself smiling back through her tears. “I hope this message finds you, since the first one I sent didn’t. Your friend, Vidar Jarlsen, has told me how you learned of our father’s death, and I wanted to reassure you I had nothing to do with Mahmud’s unwelcome visit. Our paths may have diverged, sister, but you must know I would never do anything to hurt or frighten you.”

  Oh, she wished he truly were in the room, so she could tell him how much his words meant to her. Instead, she could only sink back down into the chair and listen as his image continued to speak.

  “Vidar also told me of Mahmud’s words concerning our father’s protection, and I made inquiries. Father’s Vizier says the stopper for your bottle was secreted away, perhaps even disenchanted so it couldn’t be used. It’s safe in the palace vault, and I have ordered it be found, so as to make sure. Have no fear, little sister. The protection our father put in place for you remains, just as mine will always remain. And since I am not bound to the old-fashioned ways, and our father’s injunction against any of the family contacting you died with him, there will now always be a place here for you. Come home whenever you wish, my sister.”

  He had been speaking in the common tongue, but now he switched to jinn, and although his smile didn’t change, the twinkle in his eyes increased. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll take me up on that invitation, although I hope you’ll visit. I like your troll, Jasmina. He truly cares about your safety and although he seems unsophisticated there can be great strength in simplicity—something I think most of our kind has forgotten, to our detriment.”

  Changing back to the common tongue, Ahmet continued. “If you have need of my assistance in any way, contact me immediately, Jasmina Binaar.” His expression had all the haughtiness of a king, but she knew there was tenderness underneath. “Don’t let your pride and independence stand in the way. Health and happiness, my sister, and I look forward to the day we will be reunited.”

  It was only as his image faded that Jasmina realized tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she swiped at them with the edge of her sleeve. Ahmet was right to think she would never return to live in Eldmar. But knowing her homeland was no longer a place of danger, that her family missed her, loosened the hard ball of pain she’d carried in her heart since she left.

  And it was thanks to Vidar’s willingness to put his own comfort aside so as to see to hers.

  “Oh, Vidar.” She turned to him, wanting to share the moment.

  He was gone.

  Her first instinct was to go after him. She even got up, took a step toward the door, but then stopped. His anger lingered, tainting the air and mixing with her doubts and fears to lessen the joy brought about by her brother’s message. Sinking back into the chair, Jasmina stared at the door, her mind a welter of confusion. The last hour had been one revelation after another, and she didn’t even know how to react.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Should she find him, brave his anger, try to talk to him? Or would it be better to give him time? Dammit, she wanted time to come to grips with everything. How much worse was it for Vidar? His first love affair, discovering her roots, realizing she’d lied to him—by omission, but a lie nonetheless—must be confusing and painful. It would probably be better to let him think everything through before she tried to speak to him.

  Or was she being cowardly?

  Part of her wanted to just leave it alone, walk away now, rather than try to work it out. Nothing about their situation boded well for a permanent relationship. Jinn culture didn’t place much store in following the heart. For the most part they made business arrangements, not love matches. From what she’d read, troll men lived pretty freewheeling lifestyles, while the women took care of whatever family they created. Even without the other issues, was it even realistic to dream of a life with Vidar?

  Yet, her aching heart told her if she didn’t try to make some kind of effort, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

  She translocated into the kitchen, heard distant sounds of the flock on the move, the occasional bark as Ragnor and Rokk herded the sheep. Walking to the open door, she looked out into the day meado
w in time to see the animals going through the rock gate. Vidar was following, and even from a distance, with only the light of the moon and the glimmer of torchlight to aid her vision, his posture seemed stiff, his usual grace lacking. Rokk, seeming to sense her presence, turned his huge head and gave a yip of greeting. With a sharp word Vidar brought the wolf’s attention back to his work, and Jasmina’s courage failed her.

  Backing away from the door, she leaned on the counter, heart-sore, tears once more stinging her eyes. With everything she’d been through in her long, storied life, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so fragile, as though the wrong word or look would cause her to shatter.

  Impossible to face him right now, when she was so weak and on the verge of uncharacteristic weeping. When they next spoke she wanted to at least give the appearance of strength, of having her shit together. There was so much they had to discuss, and there was no way of knowing where the conversation would lead. If he wanted to end it, she didn’t want to turn into a blubbering mess in front of him. A hiccupping sob broke from her throat and she wiped at her cheeks.

  Get a grip.

  Jasmina glanced at the chronometer. By her estimate, it was about three hours until sunrise. She couldn’t spend the time here, surrounded by the memories they’d made over the last few magical days.

  And they were magical, in the only truly beautiful meaning of the word. It had nothing to do with glamour, illusion and enchantment, but had completely transported her, opening her to emotions she never thought she’d experience. It was worth fighting for. Vidar was worth fighting for.

  Straightening her spine, she took a deep breath and forced herself to come to a decision. She did need time to herself to think it all through, would go back to her place for a little while, come back after sunrise and talk it out with him. Maybe she’d even pop in to the Café, just to let her friends there know she was okay. The normality of that appealed to her, and a good dose of Ula’s tart wit wouldn’t hurt either.

  Not giving herself time to think about it anymore, she magicked herself into some clothes and called her traveling bag to her. Superstitious as it may seem, she still couldn’t bear to leave her bottle behind. Enchanting a message for Vidar took the last of her strength, and she only just held it all together. As soon as she finished, the tears started to fall again, and as she translocated away, she found herself praying.

  Freyja watch over him, keep him safe as you always have.

  How sterile and cold her apartment felt, despite the colorful décor. And even here memories of Vidar predominated. It was there, on the floor, they had first made love.

  Where I took his virginity.

  The shock over that had faded a little, and she understood why he hadn’t said anything. He may have been inexperienced, but he was still very much a man, with a man’s pride. When would the right time have been to bring it up? Excuse me, Jasmina, you hussy. Before you suck my cock, I think I should tell you I’m a virgin.

  No. Rather like her origins, it wasn’t something easy to talk about, especially with someone you cared for and were attracted to. Just like her, he was probably worried that the truth would scare her away. And they both had been right to worry. Look at where they were now.

  Sighing, Jasmina tossed her bag on the couch and went into the kitchen for her watering can, noticing the communication cube on the counter for the first time. Not surprising she hadn’t seen it the last time she was at home. There had been other things on her mind…like getting into Vidar’s pants.

  Fuck it, Jasmina. Can you stop thinking about him for even a second?

  Apparently not, since her next thought was of how paltry her collection of plants looked in comparison to Vidar’s greenhouse. And as she went about the chore of watering them her mind drifted to the night before, when he’d brought her a spike of purple orchids, used the soft, fragrant flowers to trail over her skin. Just the recollection made her shiver, her breath catching in her throat at the memory of his gentleness, the hours of lovemaking that followed.

  He was both the most tender and most demanding lover she’d ever had but, beyond that, he was also the most intriguing man she’d ever known. His curiosity rivaled her own, but it was his intelligence and character that attracted her most of all. And the way he looked at her…

  She shivered again, aware of the goose bumps fanning across her body, the instant tightening of her nipples and tingling heat between her legs. Just one sweep of his intense gaze could make her want him again. Shit, just thinking about it made her horny. After a lifetime of enjoying sex it was a little intimidating to crave it this desperately, especially from just one specific man. What would she do if she lost him?

  Pain squeezed her heart, made the breath hitch in her chest. Hopefully the message she’d left would pave the way for her return. If he rejected her, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop herself from begging, despite how distasteful she found the thought.

  By the stars, you have it bad.

  A harsh chuckle broke from her throat as she went into the kitchen to put down the watering can. Ula would have a field day once it came out Jasmina had slept with Vidar, although if things didn’t work out there was no way she’d let on to the others how far things had gone. It wouldn’t be fair to him when he came back to get his tattoo finished.

  There was a tingle of magic, a harbinger of someone, or something, entering her home, and her heart leapt.

  Vidar.

  Two running steps took her back to the door, her gaze swinging around the room, looking for him.

  “Were you expecting me, Jasmina Binaar?” For a moment her brain couldn’t understand or accept the sight of Mahmud standing in her living room. Her open bag was at his feet. In one hand he held her bottle, in the other something that flashed emerald-and-gold fire as he twisted it between his fingers.

  My stopper.

  Her legs turned to iced jelly and nausea rose in her throat, making her have to swallow. Clutching the doorjamb, she tried not to show her terror, knew she’d failed by the way he grinned.

  “Surprised?” He lifted one eyebrow mockingly. “Is that because I’m here, or because I have this?”

  He held up the stopper, and Jasmina’s unwilling gaze followed, riveted. Impossible not to recognize it, remember her shock and horror the first time she saw it in her father’s hand. Cut from one gigantic emerald, banded with jinn gold, it was as beautiful as a brightly colored, highly poisonous snake or the explosion of an annihilation spell.

  By the stars.

  Instinctively, desperately, she threw a silencing then a stunning spell, followed with anything else she could think of that may stop him. But even as she did she knew from his relaxed posture they wouldn’t work. Again and again he countered, his smile widening to a grin, finally turning to a laugh as she grew more frantic.

  “Tsk, tsk, Jasmina.” He brushed off a sleeping spell with a wave of one hand. “Did you think I would come unprepared? Our last encounter showed me all too well how unladylike you’ve become.” With a burst of unnaturally strong magic he turned her power back on her, freezing her in place. “Enough now, little bitch.”

  Her terror rose as she fought to free herself, until with a sickening sense of failure, she forced herself to stop. The more she struggled, the tighter her invisible bonds became. As Mahmud moved, his suit jacket shifted, exposing a red amulet hanging from a thin chain around his neck. It must be amplifying his power, increasing it to illegal levels. Marshaling what little composure she could, she forced her lips to move, saw his surprise that she was still able to speak.

  “Ahmet will kill you.”

  For a split second, she saw fear in his eyes, but then he shook his head. “Your brother cares nothing for your well-being, Jasmina Binaar. Even if he did, how would he know I had anything to do with your disappearance? No, you will be mine, without interference from anyone.”

  His spell seemed to be growing stronger and it took all her power to force the words out. “Royal…c
ommunique…on…counter. Another…in…bag.”

  Mahmud shook his head, but she’d made him look and his smile faded, the color drained from his face as he saw the box on the counter.

  She wanted to tell him that Ahmet would find out, that he was already looking for the stopper, but his power was now squeezing at her, making it hard to even draw a breath much less get her voice to work. She hoped he would listen to the messages, realize the danger he was putting himself in.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She wasn’t fooled by the bravado in his voice, but when he turned his gaze back to her, she realized with a fresh jolt of terror that he was right. The light in his eyes bordered on madness.

  Nothing would stop him—not even the possible rage of his king.

  The magic holding her peaked, turned to a stomach-lurching pull and, as the apartment disappeared, inside she was screaming.

  Vidar!

  Chapter Twelve

  Vidar followed the sheep down to the night pasture, operating on muscle memory alone, his head still swimming with anger, his chest tight with agony. It was stupid to even move the flock since it was so late in the night, but he had to get out of the house. He couldn’t stay one minute more and observe Jasmina’s joy as she watched the message from her brother.

  She’ll go back. Of course she will.

  He was still flabbergasted by what he’d seen in the jinn court. Such luxury was so beyond anything he’d even imagined, he couldn’t quite grasp it. No amount of reading about places like that, seeing pictures, could have prepared him. The palace was a pristine edifice of white marble, massive enough to make even him feel like a dwarf. As he walked through the wide corridors, everywhere he looked were golden, jewel-encrusted ornaments, gilded furniture, silken tapestries and lavish fittings. They dazzled his eyes, made him even more aware of how much of a bumpkin he was. Meeting King Ahmet, seeing the members of his court, only reinforced the feeling.

  Now he understood the expression “ogre ugly”. He’d looked it up after hearing Ula say it, had been hurt that the goblin had used it to describe him. But he’d taken heart. Jasmina clearly didn’t think he was so ugly a woman would have to be drunk on moonshine mead to go to bed with him. And she’d woken up beside him several times without being tempted to translocate away without saying goodbye.