by Marie Morin
Frowning, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked around her, studying her, Elise thought, as if she were some sort of alien creature. She clutched her towel more tightly, finally managed to draw two ends together and, she hoped, covered her ass. She felt a chilling breeze back there, though, that made her more than a little uneasy.
He was built like a body builder. If he meant her harm, she didn't have a chance in hell ... unless he was slow. But then she remembered how quickly he'd vanished.... She frowned. “How did you do that trick in the bathroom while ago?” she asked when he'd finished his inspection and faced her once more.
“Trick?"
“The vanishing act."
“I am the djinn...."
“For God's sake! Don't start that again!"
He frowned. Anger snapped in his eyes, but curiosity as well. “This world has changed much since I was last summoned. Women were not so ... outspoken."
“Summoned? This world.” Elise pointed at the floor. “You don't honestly expect me to believe you're an alien ... from space. I could believe you're an illegal alien from ... somewhere."
His brows rose. “This language. It sounds curiously familiar, and yet your speech is almost incomprehensible. What place is this?"
Elise backed away a cautious step. When he didn't follow her, she relaxed fractionally. “Look. I see what the problem is now. You're not from around here. You're confused. You've made a mistake ... got into the wrong house. Why don't you just go now and I won't even call the police. I swear!"
“What is po-lice?” His arms were clasped behind his back once more, his feet slightly spread. It looked like the ‘at ease’ stance of a military man, ramrod stiff, but Elise found it difficult to picture him in a uniform. He'd discarded the fur cloak somewhere and was once again wearing nothing but the loose breeches of before, not even shoes. The breeches rode low on his hips—she hadn't noticed that before. She wished she hadn't noticed it just now, because the bulge right below the waist band riveted her gaze for about two seconds too long.
“Cops. You know. The guys that drive the cars with the scary blue lights on top that throw you in jail?"
“Authority?"
“Uh ... yeah."
He shrugged, waving one hand as if he was chasing away a pesky fly. “I have no interest in them. They have no authority over a djinn."
She hadn't really thought he would scare that easily, but she'd figured it was worth a try. “I don't suppose it'll do any good to ask you to leave?"
He frowned, anger filling his eyes. He pointed a finger at her. “You sent me to the north pole to find a man who does not exist! This is jest to you?"
Elise gaped at him. “What are you talking about?"
“I offered to grant your wish...."
Understanding dawned, but Elise didn't really want to discuss that with him, particularly since the subject seemed to be a sore point. “Could I get dressed?"
He looked taken aback. “Are you not dressed?” He reached over and took hold of the towel. For several nerve wracking minutes, Elise feared he would snatch it from her. Instead, he merely seemed to be examining the fabric.
“No, I'm not. This is just for drying off."
He nodded, made a dismissing gesture. Elise took it as permission and beat a hasty retreat to her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her, she scrambled for the phone, punching in 911 with shaking fingers. When she turned to check the door to make certain he hadn't followed her, he was standing at the foot of her bed. Letting out a shriek, Elise dropped the phone from suddenly nerveless fingers.
He glared at her. “Woman! Have I grown two heads? Cease shrieking at me!"
Elise nodded jerkily, discovered she'd dropped her towel again and snatched it up.
He frowned, stalked toward her and snatched the towel off, tossing it across the room.
Elise was still staring at him with her jaw at half cock when he turned back to look her over. Instinctively, she wrapped an arm across her breasts, covering her pubic thatch with her other hand. “You took my towel!"
“It is useless. You scream. It falls to the floor."
“I happened to be covering myself with it!” she said indignantly.
He cocked his head to one side, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “Not well. In any case, you are a beautiful woman. You have no need to hide yourself.” The comment seemed to give him an idea. He studied thoughtfully for several moments, a look of cunning coming into his eyes. “If you but ask it, I could adorn you with jewels ... the finest silks. Diamonds, I think. And pale silk to set off your golden hair."
This time Elise was taken aback. “I don't see how jewels would cover me,” she said uneasily. “And ... uh ... I'm allergic to silk.” Grabbing the edge of her bedspread, she pulled it up to cover herself, then wished she hadn't directed his attention to the bed.
He hadn't seemed to notice it before. Now, he looked it over with interest and moved toward it, launching himself at the mattress, where he landed with a bounce ... on top of the bedspread. Elise gave it a tug, but she knew she wasn't going to be able to pull it out from under him. He must weigh every bit of two hundred fifty pounds, maybe more, all muscle ... except, unfortunately, his head. He rolled onto his side, propped his head on his hand and studied her. “This is much improved from the sleeping mats used before."
Elise smiled weakly, gave the bedspread another surreptitious tug and finally gave up. Faintly, she could hear a voice on the phone at her feet. She stared down at it with longing for several moments until an idea popped into her head. “You asked what this place was when you broke into my house while ago,” she said loudly. “It's 13489 Fletcher Avenue."
Raheem frowned, scooted across the bed. Elise jumped back. “Don't hurt me!” she yelled. “Please, don't hurt me! Take anything you want! Just go!"
Raheem stared at her as if she'd lost her mind, looked down at her feet and reached for the phone. Elise's heart did a back flip as he picked it up, examined it and finally put it to his ear.
“911. What's your emergency?"
“I have no emergency,” Raheem said shortly.
“Sir, are you the party who called?"
Raheem gave Elise a long, hard stare. “You are the po-lice?"
“I can get them for you, sir. What's your emergency? Is there an injured woman? I thought I heard a woman's voice."
“No,” Raheem said and placed the receiver very carefully back onto the cradle. To Elise's dismay, exactly as it should have been, disconnecting. She felt like stamping her foot in frustration.
Grabbing the cover, he gave it a yank, jerking Elise, who was too surprised to let go, across him. He rolled, tossing her to the bed and ending up half on top of her. Elise squeezed her eyes closed, holding her breath, trying to ignore the bare chest pressing so tightly against her breasts. When nothing happened after several moments, she opened her eyes a fraction and peered at him through her lashes. He was studying her thoughtfully. “This is a very strange world. It has changed much since I was last summoned."
“You said that before,” Elise pointed out, deciding it was useless to play possum. “Where are you from?"
“My world."
“Oh. That's so helpful,” Elise said sarcastically.
“I could explain, but the human mind is far too simple to grasp the concept,” he said, touching a finger to her head.
She jerked away, frowned at him. “Try me."
“Another plane ... elemental."
Elise gave him a skeptical look. “Ah. Right. Can I get up now?"
A faint smile curled his lips. “Mortal females were not so ... interesting when last I was here.” He looked her over speculatively.
A frisson of something that was part fear and part pure excitement went through Elise. She didn't want to examine it. “You really believe you're a genie, don't you?"
His brows rose. “I know I am djinn. You are asking for proof?"
“No. No! That's OK. If you say so, that's good enough for
me."
He frowned, studied her face for several moments. “You fear that I will ravish you."
It wasn't a question. “I hadn't thought about it,” Elise lied.
He leaned back, ran a curious, possessive hand along her body from her neck to her thighs and then upward again, sending quivers of something that should have been fear, but wasn't, all the way through her. “Alas, it is not possible. I should like to taste this little pink berry here,” he said, lightly pinching first one and then the other of her nipples. “But, it can not be. It is ... forbidden."
Fighting to draw in a calming breath, Elise looked at him in surprise, and not a little hope. “No?"
“No."
She wiggled out from under him and sat up. “What a shame."
Something gleamed in his eyes. One corner of his mouth tipped up slightly. “You agree? Indeed. I am tempted to make an exception."
“Oh no! I'm sure it's for the best,” she said quickly, then scooted to the edge of the bed and, when he didn't stop her, got off. Backing toward the tall chest of drawers across from the bed, she began to fumble blindly for something to cover herself. Finally drawing out a pair of lacy panties and a bra, she bent to step into the panties. When she straightened to pull them up, he was standing within inches of her. She jumped reflexively, dropping the bra. Leaning down, he lifted it with one finger, studying it curiously. Elise snatched it from him and put it on. “How do you do that?"
His brows rose in a question.
“Move so fast? Without making a sound?"
“I am elemental ... a djinn. As the wind."
Elise crossed her arms over her bare stomach, nodding. She felt marginally more comfortable with her underwear on, but not much, particularly when his gaze roved over her with interest. He ran a finger along the elastic waist of her panties—the inside. Elise felt her belly quiver at his touch. It took an effort to remain still, but she didn't want to appear too disturbed by the man. It might encourage him to do worse. At the moment, he seemed more curious than anything else. “What is this ... garment?"
“Panties.” It seemed absurd. Surely, regardless of his charade, he had to know what they were.
To her relief, he removed his finger. In the next moment, however, he'd flattened his palm over her, cupping her sex. Her eyes widened. “And this fabric?"
Elise moistened her lips. “Nylon, I guess."
“It grows?"
For one horrifying moment, Elise thought he might have noticed the dampness his nearness had produced, but then she realized he was still discussing the panties.
“Manmade."
He nodded and turned his attention to her bra, examining it as he had her panties. “You certainly are curious,” Elise commented shakily, tempted to slap his hands away except for the fact that he was a foot taller than her, at least a hundred to a hundred fifty pounds heavier ... and she strongly suspected he was mad as a hatter.
“This disturbs you?” He paused, studying her face.
Elise had a feeling that he knew damn well his touch disturbed her, and not altogether because he unnerved her. He'd noticed she was physically attracted to him. She knew he must have. He was toying with her. She wasn't certain why, but she had no desire to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his suspicions. “Since you're neither my husband, nor my lover ... yes,” she said stiffly and retreated several steps.
He shrugged. “Dress yourself. I am interested to see the strange clothing mortals adorn themselves with now."
Folding his arms, he levitated right before her eyes, crossing his legs Indian fashion and sitting on nothing but air. Elise was so stunned she didn't move or blink for several moments. Finally, she shook herself and peered above his head. It was completely impossible that he could've rigged something in her room to manufacture the illusion—but far more unbelievable that he was actually floating. Seeing nothing, she waved a hand beneath him.
There was no question about it. He was floating.
Chapter Three
Raheem gave her a look that was both amused and faintly contemptuous.
Elise's lips tightened. Turning away abruptly, she snatched the drawers open, grabbed a pair of jeans and a knit top and dressed herself. The man had a serious superiority complex. She supposed, upon reflection, that it was warranted, at least somewhat. She certainly couldn't float on air, or walk through walls ... or do anything he, apparently, could.
He seemed to consider djinns far superior intellectually, as well.
She didn't believe for a moment that he was a genie, though.... Did she?
She realized she was beginning to. It might be crazy, but if she wasn't and he was really doing the things she thought he was doing, then he certainly wasn't just an average house breaker.
Of course, he could just be a figment of her imagination, but she found it was far easier to believe he was something—not entirely human—than to believe she was hallucinating. She considered that she possessed a great deal of imagination, but she wasn't prone to hysteria and she wasn't prone to imagining things.
If she wasn't imagining him, then he had to be real. He hadn't claimed to be a ghost—strange that it occurred to her that she would've had an easier time believing that! The truth was, though, that he was not Caucasian—not any race known to man—or to her. His skin was brown, but it was no tan. He spoke English well, but it was not his native tongue, for his speech was heavily accented.
Genies were myths from the middle East. She'd never really been ‘in’ to middle eastern myths. Just about everything she knew about genies arose from the few re-runs she'd watched of the old TV show about a man that had found a bottle on the beach that held a beautiful blond (right!) genie, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the TV show had taken a LOT of liberties with the old myths.
So, where did that leave her?
With no clue of how to get rid of him.
Genies were compelled to grant the wishes of the owner of the bottle, weren't they? Sort of became a slave to whoever possessed the bottle? She looked at him speculatively for several moments, but, not in her wildest imagination, could she picture this man as a slave ... of any description.
She almost smacked her forehead when she remembered the ‘charm’ necklace she'd bought. Then she frowned. It was certainly a tiny bottle. She rolled her eyes. As IF they made bottles big enough to hold a giant like him!
The bottle must be like a gateway, or something. Elemental or not, she simply couldn't picture him being trapped in that tiny thing through the ages. At any rate, if he had been trapped, wouldn't he be glad to be freed? Not pissed? Because he'd look really pissed about the idea that he had to grant her a wish. She must have done something like trip an alarm when she'd opened it, and he'd been ‘summoned.’ It made sense in a nonsensical kind of way. He'd said she'd summoned him. How was she supposed to get him back in the bottle, though?
She looked around, wondering where she'd left her purse.
“What are you looking for?"
“The bottle,” she said distractedly.
“Why?"
She looked up at him in surprise. He floated down, settling when he was eye level with her. “Uh ... to send you back?"
A scowl descended over his features. “You can not."
Elise gave him a look. “Why?"
Something unidentifiable flickered in his eyes and was quickly hidden. “I have been summoned."
“Well, you can go back,” Elise said reasonably. “I thought it was a.... Anyway, it was an accident. I'm going to send you back now."
“You thought it was...?”
Elise's lips tightened. “Don't tell me you don't read minds!” she said sarcastically.
His eyes narrowed. “Only those equal to my own,” he said coolly.
“And mine is so inferior?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.
He nodded, smiling coolly.
“Pity. But good for me.” She gave him a saccharin smile.
He looked disconcerted.
> Turning, she left the bedroom and went into the living room. Her purse, she discovered, was on the table in the foyer, where she'd left it when she came home from work. Grabbing it, she moved back into the living room, sat on the couch and upended the purse, emptying the contents on the seat of the couch. Disentangling the necklace from a tube of mascara, she clutched it in her fist. When she looked up, the djinn, Raheem, was seated on the opposite end of the couch. She jumped reflexively, but she was beginning to grow accustomed to his abrupt appearances. Pulling the tiny cork from the neck of the bottle, she held the phial out. “Here you go!"
He gave her a look.
She didn't particularly like that look. He'd said he was the genie of the bottle. Well, he either had to show her by going back in, or cease the charade. “You have to get back in the bottle."
His eyes narrowed. He folded his arms. She waited, but he didn't disappear, or levitate ... and he didn't go back in the bottle.
“Don't be stubborn now! You acted all pissy about me ‘summoning’ you. Go home!"
“What is this word, pissy? I do not believe I care for it."
“Too bad."
His eyes narrowed. “You are a sarcastic wench. Have a care. I can do things ... most unpleasant."
“More unpleasant than your unwelcome presence?” Elise said, wondering even as she said it why she was being deliberately provocative. She should be afraid of this—man? Genie?
“Infinitely,” he murmured, lifting a hand and crooking one finger at her—as if he had only to crook his finger and she would go to him!
She found herself on his lap.
With one arm around her shoulders to support her, he caught her chin in his other hand, his eyes narrowed, dangerous as he studied her face.
Elise swallowed with some difficulty, feeling a shudder race down her spine that was only partly fright. “How did....?"
“How? Or why?"
She licked her dry lips. His gaze followed the movement. “What?” she asked vaguely, unable to connect the words with any meaning in her mind. A rush of excitement had filled her at his nearness, his touch. She couldn't seem to think of anything except her body's reaction to him.