by Lyn Brittan
“That’s what people say before they die in movies.”
Cassia’s arms wrapped around his waist, brushing aside the chill that’d befallen him. He brought her in tight and dropped a kiss on her head. She looked up and smiled. “I’ve figured out my role in your life, Faruq. My job is to keep you from worrying about everything.”
“You’re right.” He let her pull him back down the hall, but stopped short of entering the kitchen. “What happens when you put the key in?”
“No key.”
“And that doesn’t bother you either?” Could something be making her ignore this?
“Honestly, no. It was a free house. You’re certain there’s nothing you’d rather be doing right now, other than worrying about a literal hole in the wall?”
“I’m a djinn.”
Cassia sighed, pulled away and leaned against the wall. “So?”
“Wish for the key.”
“Fine. I wish for the key. There. Nothing happened.”
True and bothersome. The wish pulled as most did, but piercingly ached like it didn’t want to be answered. Less than a second later, no, less than half a second later, it begged like it wanted nothing more than to be granted.
Wishes pulled and sometimes annoyed. They didn’t hurt. Not unless someone held a lamp captive or the wish was a curse. Outside, a series of howls and barks cut through the air, yanking his attention away. “I don’t remember any dogs around here.”
“There aren’t any.”
“Maybe your neighbor’s house dog got lose.” But he didn’t recall any nearby homes either. “Cassia?”
“No neighbors. Faruq, we’ve had a pretty heavy experience. I don’t want to talk about dogs or keys or anything, really. I want to sit in your lap a little bit, drink some more wine and have you carry me up to bed at the end of the night.”
How to tell her they had an eternity of that without freaking her out or bringing up the huge, massive problem of an unanswered wish? There wasn’t a way so he dropped it, gathered her in his arms and took her upstairs. “Just one suggestion.”
“Yeah?”
“Learn some spells. Fast.”
*****
When the morning sun winked at her through the window, she winked back – weak, aching, bruised and smiling.
Also, alone.
She got up, grabbed his shirt from the floor, then slid it over her as she looked for him in the hall. It didn’t take much searching to find him. He stood with a cup of coffee in his hand, staring at that stupid keyhole. “Let it go.”
“Can’t. You don’t feel anything?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe it’s tied to you – to your bloodline, I mean. This lady was a blood relation, not one by marriage, yes?”
“Yes.”
“So she had to make it in such a way that she could stay here and not be affected by whatever’s radiating from the other side.”
Here we go again. “Nothing is radiating from the other side.” She padded down the steps and took the coffee from his hands. One sip and she gagged. Freezing cold. “How long have you been staring at this thing?”
“Move in with me.”
“Too soon there, chief. Slow it down.”
“Not like that. I mean, stay with me at the hotel.”
“As opposed to my house with all my stuff in it? I’ll take my house. You’re free to stay as long as you like. Well, as long as I like.” She laid her head against his shoulder, breathing in the musky scent of his maleness. She didn’t want to talk about the house or keyholes. There were much better things to do. “I’ll promise to tell you about any sketchy feelings that pop up, if you join me in the shower.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. If we wait until you feel it, it might be too late. I think your whole family is shielded from this. What does Tig—”
“Tig says nothing, because there’s nothing to notice.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I’m aware. But this is my home and I don’t need you trying to change it.”
“It’s not that.”
“So don’t act like it.” If he intended to walk in and take over her life, he’d better think again. “Stare at the wall. I leave you to it,” she said and went to the desk to check her appointments.
All in all, so not how she anticipated spending her first day after sleeping with him. They should be in bed cuddling or whatever. Ugh. Between her fifth and sixth email, he hovered in the doorway of her office. “I can feel you brooding. Knock it off or leave.”
“Leave?”
“Yes. That’s that thing I get to tell you to do when you’re in my house,” she said, hands floating above the keyboard.
“Because I care?”
“You don’t get to dictate what I do.”
“Whoa. Stop. Can we reset to this morning? After an amazing night, I woke up in bed next to a woman who will never care for me as much as I care for her—.”
“Faruq—”
“And that’s fine. I’m coming to terms with it. But dictating? You don’t have the right to tell me what I feel.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“I can’t control how you feel, Cassia, but I’m allowed to say what I think.”
That was fair. She slammed the laptop closed and rose from the chair. “We’ll agree to disagree on the random decoration in the hall. This is a stupid thing to fight over.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m going to let that go, because I’m done talking about it. Let’s go upstairs.”
“Upstairs for what? Sex? Now?”
“I appreciate your concern, but you have to trust me. I know my house. Now, as the rest, I’d rather have sex than fight.”
He looked at her, palms up, one eyebrow raised. “How is that healthy behavior?”
“So you don’t want to go upstairs with me?”
“I didn’t say that.” He shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. “I went from being insulted to feeling used. I mean something to you, right? Even a little,” he asked, fingers held slightly apart. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he held out his hands in mock surrender. “Promise me we’ll talk about it at some point.”
“I promise that if anything legit strange happens, we’ll discuss it. Do I have to wish you upstairs?”
“That won’t be necessary. Actually, before we get started...”
His voice trailed off and he laid his hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her down. “You expect this to happen before we have sex every single time?”
“No...I...well...please?”
*****
“You work too much,” he said, three days later. Cassia only smiled and walked into the bathroom.
After a few nights at her apartment, he realized his place in her life. They’d make love all night, but before sunrise, she left for her runs and workouts. Things improved around lunch, when she returned sweat drenched and grinning. One hooked finger was all it took for him to clean her up and get her sweaty all over again.
Then the dinner hour would roll around and she forced him to let her go once more.
Why?
Them.
Humans, vamps, shifters, they all demanded her time. She didn’t need money with him around, though getting her to take any was an exercise in futility. That was the downside of these modern women – they didn’t like being taken care of. Therefore, she worked and he waited.
The first few days he contented himself with a bit of keyhole staring or getting reacquainted with his lamp. Later in the week, Tig wished him over, but every second without Cassia left him bored in a gray, dull world. To avoid another day of looking out the window, awaiting her return, he took the car downtown for a bit of sightseeing.
He didn’t make it fifteen feet outside her property before it appeared.
The baby carriage.
He slowed the car to watch its progression in the rearview mirror. It appeared as a faded, tattered thing at the beginni
ng, but improved in shape and substance as he put more distance between himself and the house. By the time he reached the city, it started to pale again.
Cassia.
He tried her cell, but she didn’t answer. It meant nothing. Logic reminded him that she was busy with a client...
...or running for her life.
The thought slammed his foot to the pedal and had him swerving through the city. She could be anywhere. When he tried calling Dinah for a wish, he got no answer. He drove to a few nearby gyms, but none would let him in without membership. Magic didn’t help. No one ever wished to go to the gym.
Not that he had any certainty she would even be inside one. Knowing her, she had her clients traipsing through the rough or flipping tractor tires for fun. There was nothing other to do than wait.
He didn’t do it at her house though. The car came to a stop at the furthermost point that she would have to pass in order to jog home. He told himself a dozen times that she was fine and that the carriage meant nothing. More than that, his heart would know if she were in danger.
Still, he didn’t move.
An hour and a half later, he caught her jogging up the road and popped a U-turn to pick her up. “Get in.”
“What’s wrong,” she asked, jogging in place.
“Did you see anything?”
“Second time. What’s wrong?”
“Second time. Get in.” She didn’t look scared, and not too far away from pissed either. She hadn’t seen the carriage then.
“Keep driving. I’ll follow beside you to cool down.”
“That’s...” But she’d already taken off and he kept pace, clocking in at three miles per hour. “I saw that carriage again.”
That stopped her. She turned, bracing herself against the open car window and looked side to side. “Where?”
“We’re a quarter mile from the house. We won’t see it this close. I don’t think you’ll see it when you’re alone, either. Now will you please get in?” She did, jogging to the other side and head weaving in all directions. He gave her a fortifying kiss, as much for her sake as for his. “I’ve had some time to think about this. That thing’s been following you since you moved in, but you’re protected from seeing it.”
“Only I have seen it. Logic fail.”
“Never when you’re alone and never when you’re with people other than me.”
“So it’s tied to you?”
“Maybe or us.”
“Us, I just can’t see it. Wait, then why does it show up with you when I’m not around?”
“I’m tied to you, Cassia.” In a way you’ll never be tied to me. That last bit he kept to himself, but her eyes widened and he knew she got the whole of it, unspoken or not. Her burdens were his and never the reverse.
“I’ll protect you from the creeptacular baby stroller,” she said, then smiled and wished for a glass of milk.
He rolled his eyes, but it appeared nonetheless. She still wasn’t taking this seriously. But could he blame her? She’d seen the thing once and it could easily be dismissed as a fluke of magic. She also didn’t feel the dark spot in the hall. She had no reason to fear anything. “Cassia, all I’m saying—”
“I’m tired and sweaty. If you want to help me, you can have a nice bubble bath waiting for us upstairs.”
Forcing the issue wouldn’t get him anywhere. He sighed, smiled and shook his head. “I’ll keep you safe Cassia, despite your best efforts.”
Chapter Nine
One week passed.
Then two.
He’d stayed. She went on about her life, running in the mornings, working in the evenings, but her nights belonged to the djinn, starting from the end of the lane, where he’d jog with her the rest of the way home. During the days, they talked about their pasts and the present, careful never to tiptoe near the future. This was for her benefit, she knew, but it didn’t help her come to terms with any of this in the least.
This was different, whatever this was. She’d seen enough of life to know that loves came and went. This was something more. Real love wasn’t all passion. It was soft. She caught glimpses of it in their quiet moments together. Making the bed in the mornings or going on one of their evening walks around the property after work.
And during the shoveling.
The dogs howling during the night did a number to the landscaping. She wished, more than once, for the holes to refill themselves, but the often malleable Faruq had taken a hard line on this. Either they fixed the holes with sweat and a shovel, or she had to manage enough of her own magic to do it herself.
She massaged her shoulders at the memory.
He tried anything he could to make her practice, some methods more effective than others. Once, he’d had her bent over the kitchen table with her butt up and his penis inside her. He only moved if she managed to flicker the lights on and off. She mastered that trick real fast.
A couple days later, he had her clit in his mouth and threatened to stop sucking if she didn’t levitate the bed with them both still on it. She’d been a little over eager and after all the loving was done, she had to wish the massive four-poster off the roof. He’d never let her live that down.
“Baby?”
That was newish too. He’d started calling her that in the last three days and it still sent a thrill through her. She looked up from her notes in time to catch a couple of lottery tickets floating in the air. She concentrated, slowing down their descent and directing them to the table. “High five.”
“That’s my girl. Those are quarter million dollar winning tickets in Florida and Mississippi. I’ve learned that smaller amounts, spread out over a few states, help avoid drawing too much attention.”
None of this surprised her. It was how her sister and brother-in-law sustained themselves. People always wished for winning lottery numbers. Apparently, djinn the world over plucked those wishes from the multitude and used them for their own bank accounts.
Oh, Dinah.
She hadn’t gone back to Dinah and Tig’s house since their falling out and maybe that was a good thing. They had their life now and she didn’t need to always be in it. Plus, even though her sister was right, Cassia still nursed some bruised feelings. She’d get through it at her own pace.
Faruq hadn’t spoken of it. He visited his brother often enough, but never once mentioned what they talked about. He had to have known she was a persona no gratia in the household. No way was she bringing it up.
She tried to concentrate on studying her spells, but gave up and followed her nose to the kitchen. Faruq cooked something in a wide, double handled metal pan thing. She closed her eyes and tried to pick out the strange scents pickling the air. “Cumin? Cinnamon?”
“Good. What else? Sit.” Faruq threw a towel over his shoulder and bought the pan to the table. He grinned at her shrug and put a piece of warm flatbread on her plate. “The key spice is ras el hanout. It’s hard to find here.”
“Which plant?”
“All of them, really. Turmeric, berries, cardamom, cloves, peppers, paprika, I could go on, but you get the idea. It’s different from every single place, but the closer to the Aurès mountains you get, the better. You throw all that and your meat into the pot and you get marqa. Then you...”
She held up her hand to stop him and dug into the plate. Her tongue appreciated it more than her nose did. The man was an excellent chef.
Correction. The man was excellent.
And it scared her less and less each day.
“My food makes you smile.”
“Umm, yeah. This is ridiculously good. I want to stay home today and enjoy more of it.”
“Stay. I’ll cook all day if it keeps you here.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
Her phone rang before he could answer. Faruq slid it over the table without a glance at the screen, but frowed as he got up to toss a dropped fork in the sink.
The message made her eyes glaze over. One of her newer clients texted nex
t month’s workout dates. It ought to have thrilled her – not just the job and accompanying payment, but the neat and orderly schedule in and of itself. Instead, the thought of carving out more time away from this left her a little empty.
That was Faruq’s doing. The tidy life she’d once held dear now held her like an ever twisting vise. She didn’t need the money. However, it didn’t make any good sense to turn it down either.
Faruq grabbed his plate and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Living room. I thought I’d give you some time to work. Looks important.”
“It isn’t. It really, really isn’t. Yes or no?”
“What?” Faruq put his food back on the table, but didn’t sit down. “Really, I don’t mind. Just come on over when you’re done.”
“Yes or no?”
“To what? Never mind. Yes. Whatever it is, the answer is yes.”
Yes. Yes to more work. Yes to more money. Yes to time away from him. “Yes or no?”
“Cassia, what’s the point? If you don’t like what I’m going to say and intend to change your mind anyway, don’t ask.”
“You’re right.” She picked up her phone and started typing. “You grab the drinks and I’ll bring my plate in.”
“What are you doing?”
She exchanged her phone for the mountain of food he’d prepared and nodded toward the hallway. “Saying no. And after we eat, let’s go out tonight. There’s a music festival downtown.”
“You have appointments.”
“That I’m rescheduling as we speak.”
“Okay.” Faruq laced his hands behind his head, walked to the door, then turned again. “I like this version of you.”
She scarfed down the food, feeling a sudden giddiness at breaking her self-imposed rules.
“I made that with love. Are you even tasting it? I’ve never seen a woman eat that fast.”
“It destroys my whole grain pasta. No contest.”
“That was never a debate.”
“Do you remember being in middle school and...oh...those hadn’t been invented yet, had they?” He sopped up more food with his flatbread and shook his head. “Right. Let’s just say that I’m very excited about going out. A proper, nighttime, middle of the week date.”