PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  She lifts her head to look up at me, eyes devious. “Again.”

  “Easy, tiger.” I grin and guide her mouth back to mine.

  Her lips are always so warm and soft, like the rest of her body sprawled across mine. Nothing has ever felt so amazing.

  She backs away, lifting to her hands and knees. I sit up just enough to remove my shirt and toss it aside, then cup her jaw to bring her in again. She plants a kiss on my lips, across my chest, down stomach, and then keeps going. I lie back on the bed.

  Her lips graze over me and I'm at attention again. Her tongue swirls over the head, then she takes me into her mouth.

  Oh, yeah. Syd is a rockstar.

  Her mouth continues to slide up and down, her hands following after. As much as I would like to find out how far she will go with this, I want her skin on mine, her body close.

  “C'mere.” I lift onto my elbows and use one hand to brush back her hair.

  She glances up at me, and I doubt she realizes how that makes me want her even more. With a final stroke and a parting kiss, she sidles against my side. I roll her a little to her back and crawl over her. She pulls my face close for another kiss, and it's so rough and hungry her whole body gets into it.

  God. Damn.

  I spread her legs apart with a hand on the inside of each of her thighs and pull away to sit back and take in the view. Un-fuckin-believable. I slide a finger into her warmth. She shudders and pushes her hips down. I want more of that. Against me. Caused by other parts of me.

  I reposition between her legs. When I sink inside, her hands clench the blanket. I thrust until she's a gasping, squirming, beautiful mess who can barely say my name. Her legs wrap around my waist, pull me in and lock me there. Her hips undulate, then she lets out a sound that's a moan and a sigh and a something else entirely.

  Her breasts heave a few times. Then she lifts her head to look at me. I have no idea what that look means, but it makes me want to keep her here, right next to me, forever.

  That can't happen.

  I lie beside to her, panting, and pull her back against my chest. She cuddles into my arms.

  I brush her hair out of the way and kiss the silver-studded ear, then whisper, “Can you sleep now?”

  She gives a small noise of affirmation, barely nodding. In a few minutes, she's comatose.

  My eyes are heavy and aching, but I'm not ready to sleep yet. I just want to enjoy her being here.

  In the morning, I will have to figure out how to tell her the truth: she can't come back.

  ***

  Breakfast makes me nervous. I resent the fact this is the first time I've eaten with Syd, and yet I have to analyze everything she says to find a way to tell her we're over. Whatever we were, it no longer is.

  She's going to be pissed. I should be flattered that someone like her wants to hang around, but I knew better than to let her think we might have a future together. We don't. Not even as long-term bang buddies.

  She places a bagel on a paper towel in front of me at the breakfast bar, then turns to the counter to prepare hers. Who knew the rockstar was domesticated?

  She has her back to me. “Do you work today?”

  I take a bite of my breakfast. “Not that I'm aware of.”

  She brings her bagel around to my side of the bar and claims the next stool, turning sideways to face me. Her pale bare legs intertwine with the legs of the stool. She's wearing just panties and one of the small, tight shirts. Her hair and makeup are a tamed mess. I would do her again in a nanosecond. But she has to go. My brain can't wrap around any other feasible option. I have two major issues. Problem numero uno: Silvia will go postal if she finds out about my escapades. I've kept them hidden so far, but it's really just a matter of time before she crosses paths with my guest. Problem numero dos: Syd is only going to tolerate my jerk off behavior for so long.

  I would tell her the truth, but I can't. Literally. I never would have guessed how much of a problem that would become. This life is always full of unpleasant surprises.

  When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time in the Walker household. Karl treated me as well as his own offspring, but differently. He would routinely ask my father what I weighed and how I was doing in my studies, like he kept track.

  He probably was keeping track. Making sure I was good stock. Decent stock, anyway.

  At the time, I didn't know any different. My father would leave me in the care of the mansion staff, sometimes for a week. Silvia and I have sparred since birth. I had no idea. Otherwise, I might have reconsidered busting a Lego USS Enterprise over her head when we were six. Or gluing the used pages of her journal shut when we were nine.

  I knew my father had a “secret special job” but I didn't know what any of it entailed until I was ten or eleven. Then my father laid it out. He told me what my future would be like. What I had to do. I thought I understood. Thought I was prepared.

  I was fifteen when that day came. My father took me to the mansion, a place that had once been a second home. That day was different.

  He led me to the summoning chamber. I hadn't even known such a room existed. I would have been taken in by the exoticness of it, but the argan infused air was tense. My father clutched my wrist, something he hadn't done since I was a small boy.

  We stood facing Karl. Everything was off. Karl sitting in a big chair, like a throne. Looking down at us from a stage, a strange look on his face. I tried to rationalize to myself that the man was still just Silvia's father, but I couldn't quite believe it.

  Standing there, ready to assume my new role, I realized I didn't understand anything at all.

  My heart was pounding. I was sweaty, lightheaded. My father had told me not to show weakness, so I choked down the fear.

  Two of Karl's house staff—men who had shown me how to fly balsa planes and throw darts when I was little—pushed a cart toward me. On it, two flat burners.

  Swallowing hard, I glanced over my shoulder at my father. His face was set so deeply in a scowl I thought he might never show another expression again. Maybe he didn't.

  My words were tight. “What are they—”

  The two men grabbed my hands and shoved my fingers against the silver disc. Hot pain shot through my fingers, across the front and back of my hands, and up to my elbows. The agony settled in my joints. I tried to pull away, but they kept my hands in place until my fingers went numb. Then they let go.

  In hindsight, it was all kind of superficial. The burns healed with a week of aloe gel and not using chopsticks. Now Karl and I revisit our little ritual once a year or so. Doesn't really bother me anymore, but at the time, I felt violated. Little did I know then how much the Walkers would invade my life. Just like they had done to father, and his father before, as far back as anyone can remember.

  My bloodline is born with the genie bond, and the Walkers are born with the master bond. We have no way of preventing it. As soon as the current genie or master takes his last breath, the role auto-magically switches to the next in line. One master, one genie.

  The genie bond does a pretty good job at keeping us under control. The hum, for example. But the master bloodline likes to take an extra step. A precaution.

  After searing off my fingerprints so I could be a better criminal, Karl stated the rules. They are commandments, given to each genie by his master, generation after generation. The fine print. The no escape clause.

  We cannot harm our master.

  We cannot take our own lives.

  We cannot tell anyone our secret.

  The master can retract those orders, like Karl had done so my father could prepare me. Otherwise, we are bound to them, like it or not.

  No harming our master. No taking our own lives. No telling our secrets.

  Until today, I never realized that those are perhaps the darkest wishes of all.

  Syd interrupts my thoughts. “You got plans for this afternoon?”

  I blink back to reality, then shrug and glance down at my half-eaten bagel.
I'm no longer hungry.

  She unwraps her legs from the bar stool and twines them around my calf. “I was thinking we could go have coffee with Coleen. She's been wanting to meet you.”

  “No, let's not,” I mutter, without looking up. “I think you should just leave.”

  Syd's legs let go of mine and pull back to her stool. “Um, okay.”

  She hops down and heads to my bedroom. I turn to watch her saunter down the hallway, because she has a great body and I'll never see it again.

  Except for her concerts on YouTube.

  A few minutes later, she emerges dressed. With a frown, she pauses in the living room and stares at me, then she collects her purse from the coffee table and meanders toward the door.

  She's not really fazed by me anymore. I'm sort of impressed with her, but I'm more disappointed with myself. Judging by how my heart feels like it's squirming, I got attached. Idiot.

  I step down and cross the living room. She turns to look up at me, like she's expecting a kiss. I reach behind her and open the door.

  “Later, Syd,” I say, flat as Kansas.

  My insides feel steamrolled.

  She doesn't seem angry or hurt. Not even confused. Just . . . resigned. Like she knew it was coming.

  Well, she should have, because I told her this wasn't going to become anything serious.

  Somehow, I think it's crushing me more than it is her. I don't want her to go. She fills a void, and I wouldn't want anyone else to take her place even if they could. I can tolerate being Karl's guard dog if I have Syd to look forward to every day.

  But problem numero tres—the one I've avoided thinking about—might be the worst issue. Karl is going to want me to breed my replacement any day now. He'll wish it, and there won't be a damn thing I can do about it.

  Even if Syd somehow found out the truth, I can't make her watch her child grow into the genie bond. That's just cruel. At least my father had the decency to spirit me off in the night when I was an infant. I doubt any mother would want to know her son grew up to be, well, me.

  Syd presses her lips against mine. It's not the usual desperate, lustful spit-swapping.

  I stroke a thumb over her cheek and kiss her again, barely more than a soft bump. I think we're saying good-bye.

  This blows. A lot.

  I glance past her, out the open front door, then halt. I can't help but grin.

  There is a frickin' black and red Audi parked in my carport.

  “What?” Syd looks over her shoulder, then laughs. “It's my brother's car. He doesn't need it right now, so I took it.”

  “Dammit, Syd,” I say, but I'm laughing too.

  She looks at me with a sexy little smile. “Reconsidering that break up?”

  The words sting and tingle at the same time. I have no idea what to say.

  She pulls the keys from her purse and dangles them in front of my face. “How about that coffee, Dim?”

  ***

  Syd and I sit at a bar-height table in a cafe she had picked for us to meet with Coleen. The cafe happened to be way across town. I'm certain she chose it as an excuse to take that bad ass car on the freeway.

  “Let me drive the Audi back,” I say, nearly pleading.

  She shakes her head. “Not a chance. My brother would smother me in my sleep if it got a dent.”

  “I have a perfect driving record!”

  She bounces the straw in her plastic cup. “I don't believe you.”

  “So you believe me about my medical record, but not about my driving?”

  Her jaw drops. “Dimitri!”

  I grab my drink concoction and take a sip. With all the chocolate and whip cream, it's not really even coffee anymore. Syd had insisted I try it. It might not be coffee, but it is pretty damn good.

  “No,” she says with resolution. “No driving the Audi.”

  A woman behind me says in a tone like she should be wiggling with excitement, “You got the Audi?”

  Syd stands up and goes around behind me. I turn on my bar stool. The woman has ridiculously long brown hair and huge eyes, like she's the prototype for a female anime character.

  “Oh, is this Dimitri?” She has a happy bounce to her voice that would be irritating if I wasn't contemplating how to convince Syd to fork over the keys to the Audi.

  “Yeah, that's me.” I put up one hand in greeting and then drop it back to the table.

  “I'm Coleen.” She pulls up a bar stool and sits across from me. “Sydney and I met at the university a couple of years ago.”

  I look at Syd with a grin. “Sorority sisters?”

  Syd kicks me under the table. Her jaw is clamped, but her eyes glint. She's cute when she's irritated.

  “No, not a sorority.” Coleen brushes her hand through her hair. “She was my unofficial math tutor. So, Dimitri, what are you studying?”

  Syd perks up. We haven't talked much about our lives outside of the bedroom.

  “No college. Just work,” I say.

  That might make me lose points with Syd.

  Wait, doesn't matter.

  Coleen looks surprised, then she nods. “Sydney says you do personal security, right? How is that?”

  “It's . . . a job,” I say.

  I want to be nice to Coleen, but I can already tell this is turning into the New Boyfriend Inquisition. Seen shit like this on TV. She should have brought one of those conference room chairs.

  “How did you get involved in it?”

  “Um, family business,” I say.

  There's the truth if I ever told it.

  “Very cool.” Coleen nods again. “Did you grow up here in Phoenix?”

  “Yeah,” I say, but it's time to turn this inquisition around. “How about you?”

  “No, I'm from Connecticut, but I came out here to go to ASU.”

  Syd looks between us with a small smile. “Coleen, I'm going to go get your coffee, okay?”

  She glances at me and pushes the smile a little more, then lowers off her stool and heads to the counter.

  I turn back to Coleen. “Have you driven the Audi?”

  “No way.” She leans over to grab a newspaper off a vacant table. “Syd doesn't let anyone touch it. I'm surprised we're even allowed to breathe near it.”

  She flops the newspaper down in front of her. I pick up my drink, but my eyes catch a headline. My brain stalls for a moment. Then I slide the section toward me. Coleen isn't bothered, busy reading away at the political pages.

  I turn the paper to face me.

  Local Multimillionaire Karl Walker Donates 1.5 Million Dollars to Hospital.

  I have to focus to read, because my head is swimming. I never see Karl in the news. Ever. This can't be good. According to the article, he made the donation stating he wanted to see his money put to good use while he is still alive.

  Yeah, that's not Karl. He's up to something.

  “That guy is a bag of ass,” Syd says, reading over my shoulder.

  She returns to her stool and puts another one of the same concoctions in front of Coleen. It's like she's a foofy coffee drink pusher.

  “Yeah, I imagine most millionaires are snatch-monkies.” I can't keep my eyes off the headline. “Why would he donate that much to a hospital?”

  Syd shrugs. “Purchasing his way through the Pearly Gates, most likely.”

  I force myself to put the newspaper aside. Karl isn't buying his way into the afterlife, but he's certainly buying his way into something. I try to act causal. Try to act like the news isn't brewing a certified panic attack in my chest.

  Syd can't know how much this bothers me. Otherwise, she'll start asking questions.

  Aren't I supposed to be breaking up with her?

  “So, Dimitri.” Coleen puts aside her pages. “How long have you been doing personal security?”

  My vision tunnels.

  Oh, shit.

  I fumble from my seat. My hand bumps my coffee.

  “Since I was, uh . . . ”

  I can't remember her qu
estion.

  I have to get out of here. Have to go do—personal security.

  “Since I was fifteen.” My voice is detached. “I have to take this call.”

  I stagger across the cafe, barely making out the hallway to the restrooms. I push open the door, fumble into a stall, and slam the door behind me.

  When I open my eyes, I'm standing in the summoning chamber. Karl looks me up and down. I'm sure I appear as stunned as I feel.

  This is why I don't go anywhere. This is why a normal life is out of the question.

  “Did I interrupt?” His tone sounds like he hopes he did.

  I swallow hard, but don't reply.

  He nods to his guards, and a man steps forward to hand me a manila envelope.

  Just once, I would like for it to contain tickets to Disneyland.

  “I want you to break into that office and steal a safe, Dimitri.”

  I'm torn between relief and worry. No kidnapping or killing this time, but I'm not exactly winning awards for my cat burglary skills.

  Then he says his favorite words: “This . . . I . . . wish.”

  My head fills up with the roar like water flooding into my skull. I cringe even though I wish I wouldn't. No showing weakness.

  I used to think it would anger Karl. That he considered the genies to be a type of mercenary and expected us to be as unflinching as his guards. Over the years, I've learned more about people. I don't like what I concluded, but I suspect my father already knew.

  Showing pain or fear doesn't upset Karl. It delights him.

  “You will bring me that safe, Dimitri,” he says.

  I clamp my jaw to resist commenting. I don't have a fuckin' choice but to bring him the safe. His little power trips make me want to stomp his windpipe.

  I turn to leave, but another guard moves forward. He offers me a new wallet.

  Still on his throne, Karl says, “The badge will get you into the office.”

  I grab the wallet, stuff it into my pocket, and then exit the chamber. As I head to a front door, I shuffle through the papers from the envelope. The safe is barely more than a private lock box, like the ones sold at Wal-Mart for home use.