by Ash Krafton
All of this was fantasy. It was all in her mind.
None of this is real.
She swallowed, her mouth like cotton. The realization reminded her that some things were better left unsaid.
If she had a wish, only one precious wish, she might as well spend it on something enjoyable—something she wanted but knew she could never pursue. In reality, Burns was a client. In her dream, he was…accessible.
Why waste a wish on something she could never have, anyway?
Why, indeed, when she was pressed up against an attractive man who was all hers for the dreaming?
She breathed in his scent through her mouth, tasting it. Shouldn’t her heart beat madly, making the blood hum through her veins? Shouldn’t her breathing be quick flutters of anticipation? His mouth, so lush, hovered mere inches away. Shouldn’t she feel something?
Did she even know how?
His cocky gaze softened, and he raised his free hand to stoke her jaw, to push her hair back over her shoulder. His lashes made dark lush spreads, as luxurious as had been the peacock’s plume. He lowered his face to hers, his cheek hovering over her face, his mouth near her ear. He inhaled deeply, exhaling through his mouth against her throat.
A tight sensation rolled through her lower belly, and she closed her eyes, sinking into the burgundy warmth. The slow burn spread like a pool of flame, making her gasp. A very physical reaction. Desire. Perhaps not emotion, but a feeling, nonetheless.
Burns pulled her captive wrist to his chest and encircled her waist with his other arm, drawing her against him.
His mouth brushed against the soft skin below her ear, making her bones turn to liquid. She relished the sensations his nearness created—the heat, the butterflies, the rumble of thunder that tumbled deep through her lower belly, urging her closer. She wilted against him.
He swept her up and carried her to a pile of cushions. Gently, he kneeled and placed her upon them. Burns said nothing but the heat in his eyes spoke volumes. It said everything she wanted to hear.
She lifted a hesitant finger to his mouth, tracing his lower lip. Around them, she heard the sounds of the wind singing across the sand, the dripping of water from the fountain at the far end of the garden. Every sound, every sensation as real as real life. Burns caressed her hand, kissing her fingertips, her wrist. His eyes never released hers.
And she had no reason to run away.
When his lips touched hers, someplace deep inside her ignited. She abandoned all reserve. This could never happen in the real world. There was no need to hold back, not here in the confines of her imagination.
He ran the tip of his tongue between his lips, seeming all too willing to encourage her. His mouth parted like a predator, a hungry smile seeking another kiss. Deeper, slower.
She savored it, the silk of his tongue against hers, their heartbeats racing each other. She arched, lifting from the cushions, and his hands slid down the soft line of her body, to her back, pulling her closer. He would not be satisfied until there was nothing left between them. And neither would she.
If wishes came true, I’d wish we could stay here forever. Her last coherent thoughts melted into a searing blaze of pleasure. It was just as well.
Forbidden thoughts of a man she should never, ever pursue only made for forbidden wishes.
Chapter 15
Wednesday. It seemed like it took forever to arrive.
Tam hadn’t seen Burns since the evening he came to her home—more accurately, the evening she dreamed of him. That dream replayed itself over and over, in the front of her mind, sometimes with such intense clarity that a tiny sound would escape her. It lent itself to a handful of awkward moments at work.
She hoped their regular appointment would be a bit of the hair of the dog. She really needed a tonic for the distraction he’d been.
“Your nine o’clock is here.” Cindy handed her a file as she passed the receptionist’s desk. “A little on the early side.”
She glanced at her watch. “Which room?”
“Your office. I couldn’t get him to change his mind.”
“I kind of figured.” She knocked twice and opened the door to see him standing at the window, watching the iron-colored sky. A light rain pattered against the pane, rhythmic and steady. Typical April weather.
He bowed when she came in. “Good morning, dear.”
“Good morning, Burnsie.” She placed the thin folder on her desk. “What’s with the pleasant expression?”
“I am simply admiring your appearance today. Red suits you to perfection. And these…” He leaned, one hand on her desk, the other reaching to brush his fingers near her cheek. “Exquisite.”
His touch sent shivers tumbling down her neck. She patted her ear, self-conscious, trying to smooth them away.
“Oh.” She felt her ear, the small pearl that swung from her lobe; she’d added earrings at the last moment before leaving for work, fully intending to take them out at lunch. “Thanks.”
It hadn’t occurred to her that she was wearing them for him. She was aware of it now. A subtle warmth spread into her cheeks. Keeping her tone light, she laughed. “I thought you might like them.”
“I do,” he murmured. He flexed his fingers, rubbing them. “They are very comely.”
His pale green eyes looked brighter than she’d remembered, his black lashes longer. And there, the faint trace of stubble along his jaw—the memory of its soft scrape against her skin sent a jolt through her.
A gust of wind staccatoed the raindrops, the sound adding to the tactile quality of the intense memory. She had to push her gaze to the desk. “Shall we begin?”
“Ah yes, my therapy. Let’s get it out of the way.” He took his seat, squared his shoulders, and cleared his throat loudly. “Lately, I find I have been experiencing intense, selfish desires. I am usually a gentleman of most reserved conduct but these past few days I’ve been dealing with overwhelming feelings of possession and want. Usually, I save those feelings for when I am in my natural form but, for some reason, I’ve been maintaining my human guise. I think it is because I am enjoying the physical manifestations of my emotions.”
She sat motionless behind her desk, wearing a carefully neutral expression. Usually, it was her natural expression.
Today, it took effort.
He tapped a finger against the side of his mouth. “At one point, I tried assuming the form of tiger, which usually relaxes and satisfies, but I was startled by the force of instinct that consumed me. It took all my self-control to become Burns again.”
At his mention of the word tiger, she went on alert. Carefully, she stilled her hands and locked her posture. She couldn’t show a reaction. He’d suspect something. Her dream was her secret but the slightest inadvertent gesture might give it all away. “Why do you think you are experiencing these feelings?”
“I am not a complex being. I’ve lived long enough to count grains of sand, if I had so chosen. I have watched the rise and fall of nations and mountains and ideas. I remember a time when man had nothing but his feet and hands, his heart and brain. I watched as ideas grew bigger than the men who dreamed them. And yet, despite the years, the weight of time, the changes this world had undergone—after all this time, I have not changed much at all.”
He leaned forward, focused intently on her eyes, as if by looking hard enough he could fit inside her mind. Could he? Had he already? She swallowed but her throat stuck.
“I suppose it was the sight of that undiscovered treasure that did it,” he said. “I once lived in a city of gold. I built Solomon’s temple with my hands and my magic and the sheer force of my power. I once slept upon a bed of gold and silk and perfume. I love luxury, love it to the point where I’d happily let it consume me if it could.”
The look in his eyes grew distant, unfocused, as if he’d been momentarily transported elsewhere. “Splendor and riches…I breathe their heady scents, roll them on my tongue. The other night had a tremendous impact upon me.”
&nb
sp; Faintly alarmed by his intensity, she struggled to tamp down a growing sensation low in her belly. Her body responded to his desire with one of her own, and she fought to suppress it. She couldn’t help but remember the dream, the scent of his skin so real, so recent.
Abruptly she lifted her knee into the bottom of her desk, catching the sharp edge of the center drawer with precision. The pain that sparkled down her knee into her shin gave her what her dwindling self-control denied: focus. “I didn’t know that it would affect you like this.”
“You did.” His voice was little more than a growl. “You knew and you willingly participated.”
“No.” The ease with which he had slipped into this dark mood alarmed her. Her heartbeat picked up, responding to the hard heat in his eyes. “I didn’t know.”
“Then your little lap-dance—I’m sorry, treasure chest-dance—wasn’t meant to enflame me further?” Tiny blue flames appeared to dance within his pupils, swaying in time to the rise and fall of his chest.
She pushed back in her chair. “I’m sorry for teasing. I didn’t mean—”
He stood and began to pace.
“You tricked me into granting you a wish. There is something you should know about the djinni, Tamarinda.” He paused and swung a heavy-lidded look at her. “We don’t like to be manipulated.”
“Burnsie, I assure you—”
“I must say, you were quite adept at it. I didn’t think you were capable of such scheming.”
“Burns—”
He stopped and dropped his palms flat on her desk with a slap, leaning until his face was only a few inches from hers. “I love when you call me that. Time you find out the true meaning of my name.”
“Mister Burns.”
That gave him pause. He straightened but his expression didn’t change. “Oh, my. The serious voice. Am I in trouble?”
She gulped against the tightness of her throat and lined her voice in steel. “You go too far.”
The warning slid right over him as if she’d never spoken. Shaking his head slowly, a terrible glee sparkling in his eyes, he swiped his tongue across the tips of his teeth. A predator. “Not as far as I could.”
Again, a flash of her dream. She had a pretty accurate idea of how far he could go because she’d already gone halfway there with him. She rubbed her wrist, feeling the phantom sensation of his grip. A dream, she reminded herself. Her dream.
His expression darkened. “I feel it only fair to warn you that a djinn under contract will often do anything to get out of it. We don’t like to feel we’re indebted to anyone. It makes us... rather temperamental.”
“More so than usual?”
“Oh, yes. You haven’t yet seen the smoke, much less the fire.”
She chewed her lip, wishing there was a way to rewind the whole meeting. This is not how she expected her day to start. “I don’t like this at all. You don’t like owing me a wish? You want me to end the contract? Fine. I wish you’d knock it off.”
He sat down and crossed his arms. “No.”
“No?” She scoffed. “Some genie. I make a wish and you say no.”
He narrowed his eyes and smiled a devil’s smile. “You used your wish already.”
“When did I do that?”
“When you dreamed of me.”
Her heart constricted once before jack-hammering against her ribs, and a flush scalded her throat, spreading up into her cheeks. She felt as if someone had caught her doing something wrong.
He arched a single brow and adjusted his cuffs. “I, for one, enjoyed it immensely. You are a lot more engaging in your dreams. Awake, you seem emotionless by comparison. Why do you counsel emotionally disturbed people if you—”
“Stop. Stop right there.” She was reacting—violently—and she clawed at the shreds of composure. He was only transferring. He had to be. He couldn’t really know. It was difficult to think past the heat in her cheeks. “I don’t allow this sort of—intimidation in my office.”
“Then where will you allow it?” His tones curled darkly around the cloying words. “I told you, I am enjoying these physical manifestations. I cannot stop desiring you now.”
“Burns—”
“Admit your feelings. Admit you have them.”
She unbuttoned her collar, feeling constricted. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burns. Our time is at an end.”
“The hour has barely begun, Tamarinda.”
She summoned the last reserves of the therapist who had never before lost a power struggle. All her professional conduct, all her authority—she threw that weight behind her words. “Our contract is ended.”
“You may have used your wish but that doesn’t mean I am through with you.”
“As a client, you are. I release you from my care.” She opened his file and scrawled her name across a form stapled to the back cover. “Please leave.”
A look of incredulous outrage crossed his face. “You can’t banish me.”
She pressed the intercom button.
“Yes?” Cindy’s bright voice responded immediately.
“I’ll go.” He spoke quietly so as not to be overheard by the receptionist. “If that is what you wish.”
She lowered her chin, unwilling to give in to his sudden show of softness. “Don’t worry about what I wish. Just go.”
He looked long and hard at her, his eyes and tight mouth struggling to convey an unspoken protest.
She looked out the window and shut him out.
Was he regretful? Was he angry? Of course he was. Knowing him, he was furious, first and foremost, even if it wasn’t the heart of what he felt. And that was it, wasn’t it? He felt with his heart, he spoke with his heart, and something inside her heard him as she could hear no other.
It didn’t matter what expression he wore. She had to let him go.
He left without another word.
She spent the rest of the hour holding her temples, berating herself and suppressing a strange stinging sensation in her eyes. Not tears, but closer than she’d ever come to them in her entire life.
Damn genies. Damn their hot tempers.
Damn herself for falling for him.
Chapter 16
Burns didn’t wait to exit the elevator before vanishing. He didn’t even cloud the mind of the poor sap who’d been riding with him. With an angry huff of frustration, he puffed away into thin air, leaving a sliver of ember to drift to the ground. He didn’t even linger to enjoy the panicked jabberings of the mortal, who’d witnessed his disappearance.
He sought the air currents and fled the oppression of the office building. He stirred a sharp wind behind him, one that howled his irritation.
Banished. Like he was a lowly worm, unworthy of her notice.
How dare she? He’d lived through more history than any mortal could comprehend. He’d witnessed the rise and fall of entire civilizations. He’d served kings—
Served.
The sobering thought hit him like a bundle of wet rags, heavy and damp, chilling him to the core. His form solidified around it. He became the man he called Burns again.
Standing in the atrium of his current home, the tiny corner he’d pilfered from the city, he let his mind drift back to her visit here. The light in her eyes, the glisten upon her lips, parted in wonder. Admiration.
She didn’t have the play of light in her eyes when she kicked him out just now. She wore a look of stone. Cold unfeeling stone. It chilled him, made him feel like stone, in return.
He scanned the room, spying a lantern. It was a stack of rosy glass globes, a thin stream of hammered gold undulating around and over and through. The lantern was reminiscent of the one that had burned next to his bed when he dwelled in Solomon’s palace.
He ran his hand over it, the glass cool under his palm, growing warmer closer to where the flame burned inside. Closing his eyes, he clamped down on the impulse that gripped him. He tried to squash the rage that twisted within him. He tried to hold the beast at bay.
He failed.
/> He seized the lamp and hurled it at the brick façade of the fireplace, wanting to hear the smash and the shatter. The lantern puffed away a split-second before impact with a most unsatisfying chuff. It reappeared a few moments later in its original spot on the table.
He had no treasure. Everything around him was an illusion. The only thing that had ever been real was Tamarinda.
And she was gone. She’d banished him.
He paced, fists balled, jaw set in a cramped line. That crazy, spellbound creature. She possessed him. It made him want to scream. Centuries of running and chasing, pursuing and evading. All he wanted was his talisman. He’d seen it. He’d held it. For the briefest of moments, he had it. Why didn’t he act? Why didn’t he do what he did best? He’d had years to plan it and yet he failed to act. Why?
He hung his head. He knew why.
That crazy, spellbound creature. She possessed him and banished him in the same breath.
He knew the path was clear for him to take what he wanted. He knew where the talisman was, and he knew her weakness. Her spellbinding. Three thousand years offered plenty of time to devise the particulars.
He wasn’t a coward. He didn’t lack conviction. The trouble, he knew, was that he allowed her the advantage. He allowed her to possess him. She did it when she beckoned him to her dream. He felt the unspoken wish and had been drawn to it. The moth to a hungry flame.
He closed his eyes and crumpled into his chair, head drooping. The heaviness of the realization was too great to hold aloft. He sagged beneath the weight of the first burden he’s felt since he began the search for his talisman.
She possessed him. And he allowed it. A willing prisoner. He crafted the bars to his own prison when he allowed her to possess him.
And now he was banished, prison and all.
Three thousand years, and he’d finally stumbled upon his bleakest moment. A tear slid out of the corner of his eye as he imagined her face, the very picture of his greatest despair.
He knew one thing, and one thing only. Talisman or no, he had to get her back.
And he, the djinn with all the answers, hadn’t the faintest idea how.