Magic Gone Wild

by Judi Fennell

  Zane smiled against her. “Leave it to you to come up with just what I was wishing for.”

  Her wish was that she could tell him how she felt. That she didn’t have to choose between her magic, the thing that made her who and what she was, and loving Zane, the man who’d showed her who she could be.

  But who could she be? She’d been trying for eight hundred years to find out and hadn’t had any luck so far. Well, other than bad, that is. But here, now, with him… He gave her the ability to make her magic work. Among so many other things…

  It wasn’t fair, this choice she had to make. How could she make it? Why did she have to?

  Vana swallowed, choking back the tears welling up inside her. She didn’t want to ruin tonight.

  Zane slid his lips up her neck and over her jaw and kissed the tears he found there. “Are you crying?” he murmured against her skin.

  “No.” Yes. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “Gods, no.”

  He smiled at her vehemence and kissed each tear away. “There. No more tears. This is supposed to make you smile.”

  She smiled.

  “And moan.” He flicked his tongue over her nipple.

  She moaned.

  “And shatter you into a thousand pieces.”

  He released her hands and skimmed his tongue down her body to swirl and tease and taste and torture that one part of her that had been denied his attention, and she shut everything out of her mind but this. This wonderful, exciting, perfectly devastating assault on her body and her mind and her heart and her senses, and she let herself ride each sensation.

  He stroked her and kissed her; he teased her and gave in to her pleadings, only to stop at the last possible second, driving her wild with each half-finished touch, each too-light caress, playing her body and her heart like a virtuoso.

  “Zane,” she gasped time and time again—because it was the one word she didn’t have to search for in the swirling beauty of color that burst behind her eyelids when his tongue found the one spot that was barely holding her together. If he just kept doing that a little longer, nothing in the universe would matter but him and her and this one moment of perfection.

  Over and over, he brought her to the pinnacle only to leave her there, each new onslaught taking her higher until she was writhing on the bed, clutching his head, sliding her fingers into his hair, gasping, wanting, reaching for the final release…

  And then he gave it to her. One long final stroke that had her shattering just as he’d wished. Into a thousand and one pieces.

  And it was that last one that finally fit into the puzzle that was her life.

  ***

  It was as if the stars had fallen from the sky to swirl around the room when Zane slid into her wet, tight heat. Shudders wracked her body around him, the slick sheen of arousal on her skin mingling with the taste of honey still on his tongue and the scent of rose petals that seemed to follow her around like a sensuous cloud of temptation.

  She moved, the tiniest of movements, sending his blood thundering through his veins, and Zane had to grit his teeth to hold back when she clenched him.

  He was so damn close just from watching her. And she’d tasted so amazing. And the sounds she made—God, the sounds. He knew each one as if he’d heard it before, as if it were etched into his mind and heart and soul for all time. As if they were a part of him. Each one had reached through his skin and wound around his heart, tugging and tugging until he’d found it impossible to breathe, yet somehow he’d found a way to push on, to take her higher and give her more pleasure, more of himself.

  And now she was giving back. The demanding strokes over the skin of his back, her nails marking him as she locked her ankles around his hips.

  “Gods, Zane, yes,” she panted, and it spurred him on and drew out his pleasure like no other woman ever had.

  Vana was unlike any other woman he’d ever been with. And he didn’t mean her magic. It was as if their bodies had been designed for each other. As if their souls had found the lost half of themselves. He knew what she’d like. Knew what she’d want. And she knew him. Sometimes before he even knew what he wanted from her.

  But Vana was always there. Giving, accommodating… her passion as greedy and needy as his, and Zane reveled in it.

  There was a connection between them beyond the physical. As if he could read her mind, and she, his. When he needed her to move one way, she did. When he needed her to unclench, she released him. When he needed her to say his name in that soft, breathless way she said it, she did. And when he needed her, period, she embraced him and opened herself to him.

  Home. Vana was home to him.

  He didn’t know how it was possible in so short a time, but if there was one thing life had taught him, it was to grab that one perfect moment before it disappeared.

  And so he did, surging into Vana at her gasped urging, nipping her shoulder when she nipped his.

  “Yes, Zane, that’s it. Oh, there…” Her directives only turned him on more. He would have sworn it wasn’t possible, yet it was, and he shouldn’t be surprised, really. She had magic inside her. A magic that made him want to believe in everything. Believe in the possibility of hearth and home in a place he would have least expected it.

  With a woman he would have least expected.

  He reached for her hands, intertwining their fingers and tangling them in that glorious hair that was softer than any satin sheet could be.

  Her eyes flared open, desire, want, need, all of it swirling with the starlight in their depths.

  “Zane, I…” She closed her eyes and arched back, her throat offered, begging for his tongue.

  So he obliged. And was rewarded with a tight hot grip on his cock that almost had him coming that instant.

  God, the sensations were driving him crazy, and when she dug her nails into his backside and shifted just the tiniest bit, Zane sucked in a ragged breath and pulled out, resting his forehead on hers, trying to get his body under control.

  “Zane? What are you—”

  He kissed her. “Shhh. Give me a minute. Or I won’t last even that long.”

  She smiled against his lips. “Do you need to?”

  He needed so much… “I want to. Vana, I want to make love to you all night. And all day tomorrow. And tomorrow night. And the next.” Maybe at some point—next month—he might think about stopping, but he doubted it.

  Oh God… On a groan, he surged back in, unable to deny himself even one more second of her heat, let alone sixty of them. She felt so good around him, skin to skin, every ripple of her inner muscles caressing him, and he felt his orgasm churning at the base of his balls. It seared through him, rocking him into her over and over, taking everything she had to give and then wanting more.

  He arched back, the final moment of heaven, and images poured through his mind: Vana licking and kissing him while she rode him, the feel of her beneath him, the way her body convulsed and shuddered around him as she came, the beauty of her hair as it trailed down over his abdomen, the warmth of her mouth when she took him inside…

  The last was so erotic he couldn’t hold off, and he poured himself into her, every last sensation being wrung by her contractions as she came, drawing every last breath from his body, and oh god, he could do this forever.

  He fell forward with a ragged, shuddering breath, catching his weight before he crushed her. He kissed the curve of her neck, inhaling that incredible, indelible scent of her skin, roses, and their passion.

  They lay there, breathing in time with each other, and still the images rolled like a movie reel through his mind as if it were déjà vu.

  She mumbled something. He didn’t know what, figured she didn’t either; it was a mumbling sort of moment, this warm, sleepy, perfect aftermath.

  He slid his weight from her, regretting that he had to pull out of her, but he slid his arm beneath her shoulders and tucked her against him while she mumbled something else. He nudg
ed her nose with his. “What?”

  “You didn’t ask,” she whispered, sleepily.

  “Ask what?” He wasn’t capable of forming anything more coherent than a two-word sentence at the moment.

  “Protection.”

  His ego was gratified to know he wasn’t the only one incapable of forming compound sentences. “You explained already.”

  Vana stiffened beside him.

  Oh no, she hadn’t explained.

  At least, not this time.

  35

  “Vana?” Zane asked, shifting slightly, and she could feel his gaze boring into her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Everything.

  She hadn’t mentioned protection. Not tonight. She’d been too caught up in the moment, and besides, she’d already explained it to him once, and if it hadn’t been her first thought then, it definitely wouldn’t have been now.

  Oh gods, did he remember?

  “If nothing’s wrong, why are you shrinking from me?”

  “I’m not. You’re imagining it.”

  Oh no, he wasn’t. Vana squeezed her eyes shut. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for him to remember. They’d ended up here together anyway. And he’d wanted to, so he couldn’t accuse her of taking advantage of him—

  Except that’s exactly what she’d done by manipulating time for her own benefit, and Merlin was right. Mortals didn’t like people playing with their minds, figuratively or literally.

  “I’m not imagining it, Vana.” He tugged her close. “Why is talking about protection freaking you out now? You were fine when you told me about it. Practically purred when… I…”

  Had brushed a rose petal over her lips.

  There were no rose petals on this bed. Not this time.

  “There were rose petals.”

  Oh gods, he was remembering.

  “Where are the rose petals, Vana?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut even more.

  “We were on pink satin sheets.”

  Oh gods.

  “In your…”

  She knew the minute he remembered all of it. His body turned to stone, and his arm fell lax against her waist.

  “Vana, why am I remembering rose petals and pink satin sheets in your bottle?”

  She opened her eyes, then blinked away the tears. There would be no more kissing them away. Not once he found out.

  “Because…” She cleared her throat. “Because we did this before.”

  To his credit, he didn’t yell at her.

  To hers, she’d rendered him speechless.

  “Holy shit.”

  Well, for all of about two seconds.

  “What did you do?” He dragged his arm out from under her and propped himself on it.

  Vana looked at the ceiling, unable to face him. “I… We… did this, and then… while you were sleeping, I…” She swiped a tear from her cheek and took a deep breath. Best to get this out in one long rush. “I took us back to earlier in the evening so it was as if it had never happened.”

  “But it did.”

  She nodded, not sure if he was asking a question or making a statement, but either way, the answer was the same.

  “But why?”

  Because she’d been so close to falling in love with him then and had been terrified of ruining everything she’d been working toward all these years by blurting it out.

  And yet here she was, definitely in love with him and incapable of blurting anything out.

  “Vana.” It wasn’t a question, but it—he—deserved an answer.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t give him one. Because if she did, it would negate the reason she’d done it in the first place and she’d lose him twice. “I… I can’t tell you.”

  “You play with my mind, yet you can’t tell me why you did it? I remember every moment, each gasp, groan, and scent there was that night. Why now? Why let me in on the big secret now?” He got off the bed and grabbed his pants from the floor. “Is this some genie way of getting your kicks? Mess with the mortals’ minds and bodies? Use me?”

  She struggled up onto her elbows. “I didn’t use you, Zane. You wanted me as much as I wanted you. Both times.” He wasn’t going to deny that.

  He stormed across the room and grabbed his shirt off the floor lamp where it’d landed. “So… what? You always sweep your regrets under the magical rug?”

  “I didn’t regret it. I… made a mistake.” She pulled the sheet around her, feeling exposed in so many ways.

  “A mistake.” He shoved his legs into his pants. “I made the mistake. Tonight was a mistake. From start to finish. Hell, these past few days have been a mistake. What was I thinking? I should have put you back in that bottle the minute you made the vacuum cleaner dance. I never should have let you talk me into bringing Fatima and Henry and everyone else downstairs.

  “I should have just left you there for the next owner to deal with and grabbed a few things, signed the listing papers, and gotten the hell out of this town and gone back to my life. But no, you gave me a glimpse of something I thought I’d missed out on. Something I thought I might want. But it was all concocted by your magic. Is this how you treat all your masters? Or just the ones you sleep with?”

  She sat up, still clutching the sheet. “That’s not fair—”

  “You’re talking to me about fair?” He raked a hand through his hair and started pacing. “Do not talk to me about fair, Vana. I know all about what’s fair and what’s not. My life being decided for me by others isn’t fair. Peter, Gary, the coaching staff, my fucking knee. Then I come here, trying to forget what’s going on, only to have you make decisions for me about what I can and can’t remember. How many times, Vana? How many times did you do this?”

  He stopped and stared at her.

  “Just… just the one night.”

  “That’s one too many.” He started pacing again. “Isn’t there some rule in that book about doing this to your master? What about all the wish-granting—that I didn’t take advantage of, by the way. I was considerate enough not to use you. You could have afforded me the same generosity. Or is it okay to treat your masters like shit just because we’re mortal?”

  “It wasn’t… I had a good reason.”

  “What on earth could possibly be a good enough reason for you to tamper with my life and my memory? I want answers, Vana.”

  Oh gods, this was the moment of truth she’d been dreading. It’d seemed like such a small matter when she’d done it. He wouldn’t remember and no one would be the wiser. Just a few hours that meant the world to her but could mean nothing to him.

  And now it’d blown up in her face.

  “Vana? I’m waiting. As your master, I demand—no, I wish—you’d tell me why you did it.”

  “But you aren’t my master.”

  Zane stopped moving. Everything: his legs, his arms, his head… his breathing. Everything except a tic in his jaw. “What. Do. You. Mean. I’m. Not. Your. Master.?”

  “I… well… It’s complicated.”

  His silence said so much more than any words would have.

  She clutched the sheet tighter to her chest with both hands. “You see, according to the Djinnoire, the genie-master relationship happens when a genie materializes in front of a master. But I never did that with you. You somehow ended up in my bottle and then I led you back to your plane. So, technically, you aren’t my master.”

  “So you used me twice.”

  “It wasn’t like that, Zane.”

  “No? What was it like? How do you explain manipulating me like that? Lying to me like that?”

  “I didn’t lie. I did think you were my master. It wasn’t until after… well, until after…”

  “After we had sex?”

  She flinched at the brutal honesty of that question, because that was exactly what they’d done. She’d been the one to make more of it than what it’d been.

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat and willed the tears not to fall. Which was about
as possible as asking The Fates not to cut someone’s Life Thread.

  “The sex that I only just now remember.”

  “Yes.” Her throat got clogged all over again.

  “Is there anything else I don’t remember?”

  She shook her head. “Zane, I’m so sorry—”

  He inhaled long and deep, his eyes boring into hers, his anger palpable. “Did you do this to Peter? Is that why he sealed you in the bottle? Why me, Vana? Why me?”

  She flinched and shook her head. They were all honest questions, but they belittled the reason she’d done this in the first place. If she hadn’t manipulated time that night, they would have continued sleeping together and she would have gotten to this point—feeling this way about him—so much sooner, which meant she would have had to leave to protect her magic. And if she’d done that, Zane wouldn’t have had the incentive to stay and come to think of this as home as much as she did, and he’d still be trying to find where he belonged.

  If only she could show him the good her magic had done—

  Nice try, Nirvana, but don’t sugarcoat it.

  She could almost hear her mother’s voice, but it wasn’t Mother; it was her subconscious. And it wasn’t about to be denied.

  This whole debacle is your fault. You couldn’t accept your failings and were trying to justify your existence as a djinni in The Service. Trying to be something you’re not. That’s why you jumped into that bottle all those years ago; if you’d failed, you’d be able to blame it on that. You weren’t ready to enter The Service eight hundred years ago, and you’re not ready now.

  You aren’t DeeDee and you never will be, and as soon as you finally own it and demand that your parents see you for who you are instead of wanting you to be an exact replica of your sister, you and everyone around you will be a lot safer. And happier. Face the truth, Nirvana, and stand up for yourself. Or at the very least, stand up for the man you say you love.

  She hated her subconscious. Almost as much as she hated the fact that it was right.

  “Then why, Vana? Why did you do this? To me?”

  She sniffed and took a shaky breath, then rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin just a smidge.