There. Just beyond the northern outskirts of the small settlement, where steep hills loomed to one side and the incongruity of a sports field lay to the other, Aldair spotted a slender figure laboring up the incline. As he watched, she reached down to fiddle with one of the flimsy sandals she wore. It must have broken, because he saw her fling it away, followed by its companion. Then she squared her shoulders and resumed her pitiful march.
No. He would not allow her to walk on that stony road in her bare feet with the rain pouring down all around. It was painfully clear that she had made her attempt to get away, but he cared nothing for that now. He must get her inside, get her warm. Only then would he begin to ask for answers.
After pushing himself forward through the rain, he overshot her by a few feet so he could come to rest directly in her path. Even through the pouring rain, he saw how her eyes widened as he descended to the blacktop in front of her.
“No,” she said. “No.”
Not exactly the welcome he had hoped for, but he also wasn’t terribly surprised. After all, she had been trying to escape. “Jillian, you are soaked through. Let me take you back to the house.”
At once she shook her head. “No. I can’t go back there. I won’t.”
Had she lost her mind? With her face soaked by the rain, it was difficult for him to tell, but she appeared to have been weeping, teardrops mixing with raindrops so it was nearly impossible to distinguish one from the other. What could possibly have happened to upset her so? He hadn’t been gone so very long, not more than a few hours at most.
He reached out to take her by the arm, but she shook her head and backed away.
“Don’t touch me.”
This was getting ridiculous. Even as impatience and anger flared, he told himself he should not frighten her. She obviously wasn’t thinking clearly at the moment.
As he watched, she put her hands to her face and sank to her knees on the rocky highway, rain beating on her bedraggled hair. Her entire body shook — from cold, or some kind of internal torment. He didn’t know for sure. All he did know was that he had to get her out of there.
Ignoring the muddy rivulets pouring across the highway, he went to his knees beside her, then reached out and drew her close. For a few seconds, her entire body went tense, as if she meant to resist him once more. Then she collapsed against him, sobbing in a hopeless sort of way that made him wonder once again what could have possibly brought her to this state of agitation.
But he would worry about that later. For now, it was enough that she had not fought him. His arms tightened around her, and he blinked the two of them away from that abandoned stretch of road, back into the house — into the master bath, where he set her carefully on the countertop so he could fetch one of the towels that hung from the rack there and wrap it around her shoulders. At the same time, he summoned the gentlest of winds to spin their way about her, drying the dripping masses of her hair.
She stared at him, eyes wide, almost the same color as the storm clouds that hung over the valley. “Aldair — ”
“Shh,” he said, then took a corner of the towel so he might wipe away the last of her tears. Once he was done, he let go of the towel and cupped her face in his hands. Her skin still felt cool, but at least she wasn’t as icy-cold as she’d been a moment ago. “Let me warm you.”
And he brought his mouth to hers, tasted salt on her lips. For a moment she went utterly still, and he worried she would rebuff him once more. But then her mouth opened to his, and she was kissing him back, kissing him with the kind of wild abandon he had hoped for but wasn’t sure she would actually be capable of. He pulled her close, ignoring her wet clothes, since he knew the touch of his body would dry them soon enough.
They stayed locked in that manner for what seemed to be the sweetest of eternities. At length, though, she pulled away, her hand going to her mouth. “I can’t believe I did that,” she whispered.
“My dear,” he said. Strange, because he had never used that endearment before, not with any of his previous lovers. But it felt right to him, just as the touch of her lips to him had felt more right than anything he’d ever done. Whatever had upset her, he must find the means to comfort her as best he could. “Why should you not believe it? It is not the first time I have kissed you — and I very much hope it will not be the last.”
Those words did not appear to reassure her. She shook her head, then pushed herself off the counter so she might stand up. Aldair contemplated stopping her, but decided it was better to let her have her freedom — for now. His entire body throbbed with need, and yet he knew he must step back for the moment. She was so fragile…so very, very fragile. If he bent her the wrong way, she would snap, and he feared he might never be able to repair the damage.
Her eyes would not meet his. “It was wrong. This…this is wrong.”
“My dear, why? I have already told you that I no longer have a connection with Katelyn, and you told me that she is now partnered with one of your men in Los Alamos. So how is it wrong?”
“Because of who you are. What you are.” She shook her head and passed a hand over the skirt she wore. It was no longer dripping wet, thanks to the winds he had called to help dry her off, but he could tell it was still damp. “Can I — can you let me change, please? I’ll meet you downstairs when I’m ready.”
He wanted to protest, to tell her they would have this out now. Part of him rankled at her words. “What” he was? Were they back to that?
But he could tell from the set of her mouth that arguing with her would be a very bad idea. Better to give her a few moments to herself. Perhaps then she could gather her thoughts, calm down. She still hadn’t told him what had upset her so greatly, what had sent her running out into the rain and the storm.
He needed to know.
So he nodded, and said, “Of course. I’ll be waiting for you in the living room.”
She didn’t exactly smile, but the expression of relief that passed over her face was obvious enough. Since she already stood close to the door of the bathroom, she slipped out then and hurried across his chamber and on into her own bedroom, just before she closed the door behind her.
Aldair let out a breath. And then, because there was little else he could do, he went downstairs to wait for her.
Jillian leaned her head against the bedroom door. Too bad it wasn’t one of those big metal bank vault doors, the kind that could withstand everything up to plastic explosives. Then she could lock herself in here and never come out again.
No, that would be cowardly. She still couldn’t quite explain the meltdown that had led to her running into the storm, but grief was a strange thing. It could lie in wait, lurking in the shadows, waiting for that perfect moment of vulnerability when it might rise up again to overcome you.
The shock of realizing it was Jack’s birthday…the conflict over her feelings for Aldair…well, she supposed it wasn’t so terribly surprising that she’d totally lost it.
But why she’d let the djinn kiss her afterward…why she hadn’t stopped him…she didn’t know if she really wanted to analyze that particular reaction.
She pulled off her damp clothes and laid them across the top of the dresser so they might finish drying out all the way. Her underwear went in the hamper in the corner, and she quickly climbed into some fresh panties and one of her borrowed bras. No skirt, though; she’d laundered the jeans she’d been wearing when she’d been zapped out of the lab, and so she climbed into those, although she did put on one of the pretty tops she’d gotten from the boutique in town. The sandals she’d worn for her escape attempt were long gone, so she fetched another pair from the closet.
Her gaze fell on the turquoise necklace Aldair had given her. No, she couldn’t wear that. It would be giving far too much of a signal. Only her silver hoop earrings, the ones that had come with her from Los Alamos. A quick hop over to the bathroom so she could run a comb through her nearly dry hair. That was a handy trick, she had to admit — a djinn was much bette
r than one of those hot-air dryers that used to populate public restrooms.
Her reflection in the mirror didn’t exactly inspire confidence. She looked pale and tragic, although at least she hadn’t been wearing any makeup, so she didn’t have to worry about runny mascara. Apparently the artist who’d lived in this house hadn’t used cosmetics, so there hadn’t been anything Jillian could have borrowed. She’d been going bare-faced ever since she got here, although Aldair didn’t seem to mind too much.
Okay, no more stalling. He was waiting for her, and it would be rude to keep messing around up here when she really didn’t have anything else she could do to repair her appearance. It would be hard as hell to look him in the face and tell him the truth, but she would. He might enjoy evasion, but that wasn’t her style. Once he knew what she was thinking and feeling, he would have to let her go. Why in the world would he keep her around after he learned that he had no hope of ever being with her?
That sounded very noble. If only she didn’t keep feeling the touch of his lips against hers, the exquisite gentleness of his fingers as he’d cupped her face….
No. No.
She wouldn’t think about that.
She couldn’t.
One step at a time, she descended the stairs. Cool air moved against her face, but it wasn’t as cold as it had been when she’d left the house. Aldair must have adjusted the temperature on the thermostat. Rain still pounded on the roof, and lightning still flickered outside. The clouds were so low, the day so dark, it felt as if nighttime was approaching, even though she knew it had to be a few hours off.
He’d turned on one of the lamps in the living room. She could see its warm glow as she approached. And there was Patches, lying on the rug in front of the fireplace, even though of course no fire burned in the hearth.
A pitcher of water and two glasses sat on the coffee table, along with a mug of tea, which sent up a faint tendril of steam. A flicker of surprise moved through her; she’d thought a bottle of wine was more Aldair’s style. But maybe he wanted to make sure they were both completely sober for this discussion.
Somehow, she made herself move into the living room, then sat down on the love seat. Aldair watched her, his expression grave. While she’d been changing, obviously he’d changed, too. The new outfit was a dark charcoal gray, with an edging of deep cobalt blue on the open robe. The colors were more somber than what she’d seen him wear previously, although she supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised. They hadn’t exactly met here for a cocktail party.
Without speaking, he lifted the mug of tea and extended it to her. She took it from him, then drank. The liquid was warm as it coursed down her throat, soothing. Yes, that was a little better.
“You are feeling improved?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.” She wrapped her hands around the mug, holding on to it as if it were a lifeline rather than a simple mug of tea. Its warmth helped to take the last of the chill away from her body. “I — I suppose you think I’ve completely lost it.”
“I don’t know,” he said frankly. “I suppose that is for you to tell me. I had thought….” The words trailed off, and he shrugged. “For now, it is not important what I thought. Please, tell me what happened.”
How often had Aldair said “please” in his long, long life? Probably not very often at all. He didn’t seem the type. And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? How could she have developed feelings for someone who was the complete opposite of the kind of man she’d always found admirable?
She set the mug down on a coaster and knotted her fingers on top of her knee. “It would have been Jack’s thirtieth birthday today.”
An eyebrow lifted slightly. “And this upset you.”
“Of course it would! Thirty is a big birthday for us mere humans, you know. We’d talked about saving up for some kind of trip — maybe to California — although he didn’t know about taking time off during the school year. And….” Jillian paused then. “I guess it just hit me. Or it sneaked up on me. But I thought of everything we’d planned, everything we were supposed to do, and how it was all gone, just like that.”
“That would be difficult.”
She risked a quick glance over at him. Aldair’s expression was still somber, so she couldn’t really tell if he truly meant what he’d just said, or whether he’d uttered a few words of sympathy because he thought that was what she expected.
But of course, what she’d just told him wasn’t everything. Not by a long shot.
“And also….” Again she had to stop and attempt to gather her thoughts. Oh, why had he returned when he did? Another hour, and maybe she would have been far enough away that he couldn’t risk catching up with her. Even as the thought crossed her mind, however, a pang went through her body. Would she really have been happy, knowing she would never see him again?
Maybe not happy. But a whole hell of a lot less tormented.
She shifted on the love seat, and wished he wasn’t so close. Yes, he sat on the couch and not directly next to her, but still, his presence seemed almost overwhelming — the rich brown hair waving around his face, the sensual lines of his mouth, the glint of those blue eyes in their frame of thick lashes. And she didn’t dare let her gaze move away from his face, because his body was even more distracting.
“I know this might be hard for you to understand,” she said, forcing herself to go on. “That is, you had a Chosen. You were surrounded by couples made up of djinn and humans. To all of you, that sort of pairing isn’t so strange. But I — ” Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she reached for one of the glasses of water he’d set out so she might keep herself from coughing. “I never thought I would be in this kind of situation. In fact, I sometimes wondered how the Chosen could bear to be with a djinn at all.”
His mouth thinned somewhat, but his tone was even enough as he responded, “What, because we are so repulsive?”
“Not in body,” Jillian said honestly. “But in deed.”
“Not all of us are responsible for what happened. You know that.”
“I know it intellectually. But I guess I have to wonder — did all of you One Thousand really work that hard to try to stop what happened?”
A spark of anger lit deep within those blue, blue eyes. “We did what we could. We managed to save a thousand of your people. Without us, humanity would have been utterly annihilated.”
“Not utterly,” she said. “Thanks to Miles Odekirk.” She didn’t bother to add, And no thanks to you djinn. There was no need to. From the way Aldair’s nostrils flared and his jaw set, she could tell he’d gotten the message.
When he spoke, however, he sounded calm enough…almost too calm. “Yes, Dr. Odekirk did provide quite a service to the survivors of New Mexico. But that doesn’t negate what the djinn of the One Thousand did, either.” He stopped there, and his gaze slid away from her.
Jillian didn’t have a great deal of experience when it came to dealing with lies and misdirection, but once again she got the sense that Aldair was holding something back. In the past, his evasions had annoyed her, but now, with her heart and soul as bruised and raw as they were, that furtive sideways glance was enough to set her blood boiling. “Oh, yes, I suppose it was all very noble. I can’t comment on that, since I wasn’t one of the fortunate few. But you tell me, Aldair — was it a sense of cosmic responsibility that led you to choose Katelyn Fonseca as your partner, or was there something else going on? Because I keep getting the feeling that there’s a whole hell of a lot more to the story than what you’re telling me.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. His fingers clenched his silk-clad knees, the fabric rippling with the movement. Then, still without responding, he bent forward so he could lift his glass of water and take a drink.
Watching him, Jillian once again experienced the sting of unwanted tears in her eyes. Clearly, it didn’t matter what she said or what she thought — he had secrets he would never divulge. Even if they somehow managed to get past her problems with h
im being a djinn, it wouldn’t matter in the end, because he kept some part of his heart locked away, something to be kept from her at all costs.
She stood, and he stared up at her in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going up to my room,” she replied. “And in the morning, I’m walking away from here and going to Los Alamos. And don’t you try to stop me this time.”
After delivering this ultimatum, she turned so she might leave — only to have him rise to his feet as well. His hand closed on her wrist. “Don’t go.”
Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t try to pull away. There was no point in getting into a struggle with him. He was so very strong. “Let go of me.”
“I will — if you will stay and talk to me. Please.”
There it was again. Please. Reluctantly, she stared up into his face. His expression wasn’t particularly pleading, but something in those eyes seemed to have altered. They were wide open, almost naked in their earnestness.
“All right,” she said, relenting, then added as she saw relief begin to spread over his face, “but only if you will tell me the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
“Everything. You’ve been hiding far too much. I’m like an open book to you, practically, but I can tell you haven’t given me the whole story. Not even close.”
At first, he didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he let go of her wrist. “You will not like it.”
“Let me be the judge of that. Because….” She had to stop herself there, because inwardly she wrestled with what she needed to say as opposed to what she should say. “Because I know it’s foolish to deny there’s nothing between us. I felt it upstairs when we kissed — ”
“As did I,” Aldair cut in, his gaze softening as he stared down at her. “I am glad you recognized it as well.”
Forbidden (The Djinn Wars Book 6) Page 17