by Emma Holly
Tales of the Djinn: Sultan's Choice
Tales of the Djinn, Volume 5
Emma Holly
Published by Emma Holly, 2018.
Tales of the Djinn: Sultan’s Choice
Emma Holly
Digital edition
Copyright 2018 Emma Holly. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission of the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This story is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. It includes sexually explicit content that is only appropriate for adults—and not every adult at that. Those who are offended by more adventurous depictions of sexuality or frank language possibly shouldn’t read it. Literary license has been taken in this book. It is not intended to be a sexual manual. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons living or dead is either fictitious or coincidental. That said, the author hopes you enjoy this tale!
Tales of the Djinn: Sultan’s Choice is an approximately 27,000-word novella.
eISBN-10: 0-9967718-5-9
eISBN-13: 978-0-9967718-5-6
Discover other exciting Emma Holly titles at www.emmaholly.com
Cover photos: Bigstock—Green Ocean, ValentinaPhotos
Table of Contents
Title Page
Disclaimer
Sultan’s Choice
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 1: The Billionaire Bad Boys Club
About the Author
Other Titles by Emma Holly
Sultan’s Choice
Handsome Sultan Iksander feared he’d never be loved again. Already a couple, human Georgie and angel Connor proved him wrong by risking their lives for him. Now, if he wants to keep his new partners, he must make a hard decision.
Book 5 in the Tales of the Djinn
Praise for the Djinn series
“FANTASTIC! [T]his may be the best thing she has written to date . . . an epic tale of romantic fantasy.”
—In My Humble Opinion
“Addictive . . . should not be missed!”
—Long and Short Reviews
Chapter 1
Georgie and her two male lovers stopped, dumbstruck, at the bedroom door. One of her companions was a handsome genie, the other a tall angel. Wonders nearly as glorious as theirs halted her in her tracks.
“Well,” she said. “This certainly is an escape from the everyday.”
Her voice was breathy, even a bit unsure. The room was—literally—fit for royalty. That distinction didn’t apply to her. She was human, maybe a little magical but not fancy in the least. Back in her world, she made a living turning other people’s junk into furniture. Junk wouldn’t dare slink in here. Instead, chairs and chaises gleamed with gold leaf and glittered with precious gems. Miles of pale blue silk stretched up towering walls to a Sistine quality ceiling. Beneath the exotic djinn-themed murals, plump velvet pillows in charming meadow shades heaped as lush and pettable as kittens. The floor was a lake of gold-flecked white marble. Along one wall, windows that arched like the Taj Mahal opened onto a roof courtyard. The evening light slanted in, not quite night but not day either. Like a vision out of a fairytale, two long-tailed white birds nestled cheek-to-cheek on a green palm branch. The feathered pair was beautiful enough to seem enchanted.
Pretty much like everything in Iksander’s residence.
“My apartments are big enough for the three of us,” the sultan pointed out. “I know you liked the commander’s more modest quarters, but he’s occupying them now.” His breath caught with hesitation before he spoke again. “If you and Connor prefer simpler surroundings, I can find somewhere else for you. I, however, ought to move back into the royal suite. Considering everything my city has been through, people need to feel I’ve truly returned, that my hand is on the wheel of state again.”
The sultan looked at Georgie, assuming per usual that she could speak for herself and her long-time boyfriend. Once she would have, but Connor was also Iksander’s lover. More importantly, the angel was becoming increasingly individual. These days, he might have different preferences from her. Georgie was mostly glad for him that this was the case. He liked evolving, as he put it. Now and then, though, the fact that he wasn’t automatically on the same page as her took adjusting to.
She glanced at Connor to get his take. He was smiling, his kind blue eyes encouraging. She thought she understood the message they conveyed. She turned back to Iksander.
“We’d like to stay with you. We’re not used to this much luxury, but it’s not going to scare us off.”
“Absolutely not,” Connor seconded. “Sharing more of your company is what matters. If you want us with you, we want to be here too.”
Iksander probably would rather they not notice his shoulders relaxing. A proud man, he wasn’t yet comfortable with his feelings for members of two species he’d spent the majority of his life viewing warily. Djinn considered humans rivals for the Almighty’s affections. Angels were even worse. They’d taken humans’ side in the celestial battle for who would be most loved. That’s what djinn believed anyway. Georgie’s concept of the deity wasn’t as nailed-down as Iksander’s.
“I want you here,” the sultan said. He cleared a hint of huskiness from his throat. “You two are what I’ve longed for all my life without even knowing it.”
Well. That was more of a declaration than Georgie expected from the generally guarded man. Her cheeks felt hot . . . and other parts as well. She couldn’t look away from Iksander’s beautiful lime green eyes. One corner of his full mouth twitched. He saw he’d moved her, and it amused him.
“Good!” Connor said, never uncomfortable with affection. “I want to look at everything.”
The angel wasn’t kidding. Though he could perform certain types of magic, he had a mostly human body. No wings declared his secret nature, no uncanny celestial glow. Today he wore slippers with felted soles, the same as Georgie and Iksander. Relying simply on his impressive muscles, he propelled himself across the floor hockey-player-style, sliding from object to object that intrigued him. When he went to his knees to investigate the underside of a gold divan, Iksander laughed softly.
“I guess I don’t have to worry about him making himself at home.”
“No,” Georgie agreed, noting how the sultan’s gaze lingered on the angel’s rear. “Connor is adaptable.”
“Georgie!” Connor called from the distance he’d skidded to. He sat back on his heels grinning. “Iksander’s people have stuck jewels beneath the furniture too!”
“Of course they have,” Georgie said. “They’d run out of places to put them otherwise.”
“It’s a sign of respect.” Iksander sounded a teensy bit defensive. “The ruler of the city is supposed to have—”
“—the fanciest, bestest, most sparkly stuff?”
“I didn’t start the tradition,” Iksander muttered.
“I’m teasing,” Georgie said. “Connor and I know your top priority isn’t how twinkly your belongings are.”
Iksander crossed his arms and huffed. She hadn’t said it wasn’t a priority at all.
“Should we not joke so much?” she asked, worried she’d exceeded his tolerance for humor. “Your pala
ce is beautiful to us. We’re just a bit overwhelmed.”
“I believe you’d rather I housed you in a hut.”
“No,” she denied. “We like it here. Really.”
“So if I draped you in pearls and diamonds, you wouldn’t mock my taste?”
Connor had skidded back to them. He considered her thoughtfully. “Would you drape her in only pearls and diamonds? Because I think that would look nice.”
“Right,” Georgie scoffed. “I’m exactly that kind of girl.”
“At least it wouldn’t be a dress. I know you don’t like those.”
She gaped at him. He was utterly straight-faced.
“We could skip the pearls,” Iksander offered. “Nothing but ropes of diamonds from head to toe.”
“She’d need a tiara,” Connor interjected. “And maybe rubies for her toes.”
“For God’s sake. I’m not a damned princess!”
“The rubies would match your hair,” Connor said.
“No,” Iksander contradicted. “Rubies aren’t the right shade at all. Padparadscha sapphires perhaps.”
“You’re not decking me out like a—”
“Maybe she’d prefer a diamond tool belt,” Iksander proposed instead.
“With a 24 karat hammer,” Connor agreed, “and maybe a platinum wrench.”
Georgie shut her open mouth. They were teasing her. Both of them. Like a comedy skit they’d practiced ahead of time. She wasn’t used to her men teaming up that way.
“You’re ganging up on me,” she said.
The sultan smiled. “Only with fond intentions. You do seem to have a—” he searched for the human phrase “—slight phobia about expressing your femininity.”
“It’s not a phobia! And I’m plenty feminine!” Her fists were planted on her waist. She’d tucked a khaki t-shirt into her favorite buckled black leather pants. Admittedly, the garments weren’t girly, but who said every girl had to love ruffles? These clothes—which she’d brought from her human home—had gotten her through their adventures in the icy city of Iksander’s enemy. Without warning, her defensiveness switched gears. Did Iksander mind that she was a tomboy? Worse, had Connor all this time?
That possibility knocked her off kilter. Connor always acted as if she were perfect.
“Georgie.” The sultan cupped her face between his hands. “You don’t have to look so worried. Connor and I love you as you are—leather pants and tattoos and eyebrow rings.”
He brushed the last with a gentle fingertip. Georgie wished she felt mollified. “You wouldn’t hate it, though. If I tried to . . . be more typically seductive.”
Iksander’s irises lit the way genies’ did sometimes, the glow causing his green eyes to burn. Him meeting her gaze so steadily stirred shivery sensations. “You can’t imagine you aren’t seductive now.”
“I like feeling tough,” she admitted. “I feel safer when I’m dressed badass.”
He stroked her choppy, streaky pale red and dyed yellow hair, yet another unfeminine fashion choice. “I’m not used to women who think that way. I suppose we both have to work to understand each other. I do hope you feel safe with me.”
“Doesn’t everyone who risks their heart feel a little unsafe sometimes?”
“True enough.” His smile slanted crookedly. “Unless, of course, they’re Connor.”
“Hey,” Connor said. “I get scared. Occasionally.”
Iksander grinned at his aggrieved tone. Compared to most everyone they knew, the angel was fearless. He’d faced death without blinking to save them. He loved because he loved. Whether the feeling would be returned didn’t enter his equation.
“Right now, for instance,” Connor continued. “I’m super-anxious you won’t let me jump on your bed.”
“You want to jump on my bed.”
“I knew it,” Connor said. “That’s not something genies do.”
Iksander rolled his eyes, realizing Connor was still teasing. “Djinn children jump on beds when they’re too young to fly.” He glanced doubtfully toward the mattress-piled structure. Set off from the room by a long balustrade, the gleaming, gilded thing had four tall posts and solid head- and footboards. A rope chandelier the size of a pickup dangled twenty feet above it. “I suppose the frame would stand up to your weight . . .”
“Great!” Connor said, already jogging off. “Hope I don’t break it and make you have to explain that to everyone!”
When Iksander breathed a curse, Georgie patted his tense arm. “He probably won’t break it. He wouldn’t deliberately embarrass you.”
She thought he wouldn’t anyway. She bit the side of her thumb as Connor vaulted the railing and thumped both feet onto the mattresses. Though the move was athletic, Connor’s landing didn’t sound gingerly.
Then he laughed like a maniac and jumped.
“It’s springy!” he announced delightedly. “Maybe I can bounce to the chandelier.”
“Don’t,” Georgie called, suddenly picturing catastrophe.
It was too late. Connor bent his knees and sprang. She guessed he’d decided to pretend he was Michael Jordon. Using his levitation power to assist, he didn’t just touch the crystals; he grabbed onto a branch and hung.
“Woohoo,” he cried, piking his legs forward.
The mass of the chandelier swayed with him.
“Oh my God,” she said, hands pressed against her mouth.
Iksander hissed as crystals clashed crazily. He’d gripped Georgie’s bicep with panic strength. Little pieces of plaster began to shed from the high ceiling.
“Oops.” Connor laughed, dropping down to the bed again. “I guess that particular chandelier isn’t meant to be swung from.”
Iksander covered his face. The not-really-abashed angel shuffled back to them.
“Sorry,” he said. “The light fixture was so huge. I thought it would support me.”
He was saying he was sorry, but his eyes danced with amusement.
“You’re impossible,” Georgie scolded.
“Well, the bed held up. Knowing that isn’t worth nothing.”
“What am I going to do with you?” Iksander asked with his head shaking.
Connor grinned, ready to make a lewd suggestion. Before he could, a melodious chiming of birds and bells rang out behind them.
“My staff must have arrived,” the sultan said. He pointed one stern finger in their direction. “You two behave yourselves.”
Well, that wasn’t fair. Georgie had been behaving fine.
Connor smoothed his dark gold hair, composing himself as the sultan went to the suite’s main entrance. “How do I look?”
“Like mischief on a stick. No one would guess what you really are.”
“Good,” he said. “I hate when Iksander’s people assume I’m dangerous.”
They’d decided to conceal his angelic nature, since his aura of specialness allowed him to pass as djinn. Georgie’s human identify, alas, was already out of the bag. As he sometimes did, Connor guessed what she was thinking.
“You being human won’t matter,” he soothed her. “Iksander’s citizens already love the commander’s friend Elyse.”
“She’s a hero.”
“You’re a hero too. Thanks to you, the empress and her curse were destroyed. You slayed this city’s worst enemy. Once that story spreads, Iksander’s people will beg him to keep you here.”
His words inspired complicated feelings. The sultan had tricked her into condemning Luna to a horrific torture, one the empress had endured for months. He’d had reasons Georgie couldn’t swear she disapproved of. All the same, was she over being made complicit without consent? Even if she were, did she want to stay in his city for more than a long visit? That Connor wanted to was clear. Whatever Iksander’s flaws, Georgie cared about him a lot. Maybe she’d rather he become attached to her of his own accord—not because his people approved of her. Back in the human world, most everyone Connor met was drawn to him. He radiated caring and sunniness. Georgie wasn’t half
as good at making friends. She was too off center. Growing up, she’d cultivated a prickly image to be less of a target for bullying.
Iksander liking her for herself meant something.
“Hm,” Connor said—and not because she was lost in thought.
Iksander was returning. He wasn’t alone. A female swathed in layered red and orange silk trailed a few steps behind. Her hair was veiled but not her face, her arms heaped with bundles wrapped in sparkly pastel paper. Georgie understood the sultan was an important man. He’d more than carried his weight during their adventures. Back on his home turf, his people wouldn’t expect him to tote and carry things. All the same, it was strange to see a female piled with burdens when his perfectly capable hands were free.
Fighting a wince, she told herself the djinniya was probably lightening the packages with magic.
“Georgie,” Iksander said, “the harem has sent this servant to you with gifts.”
The woman’s gaze had been lowered respectfully. At Iksander’s words, her eyes—which were a lustrous gray—startled up to him. Her reaction suggested he’d misstated something, but she didn’t correct him. Instead, she dropped her head again. She spoke in a sweet, soft voice.
“It is with a deep sense of honor that the harem presents our glorious sultan’s new companion this token of esteem. All owe the breath of life to her bravery and selflessness.”
As she sorted through the flowery speech, Georgie wondered if she understood the nuances of what djinn meant by companion.
“I didn’t do that by myself,” she protested. “Connor and I teamed up to help Iksander.”
The woman seemed to hear her discomfort. She smiled and lifted her face. Wow, she was pretty—like, sink a thousand ships and raise them from depths again gorgeous. Her skin was creamy beige velvet, her lips pomegranate red. Georgie didn’t think she’d ever seen lashes so strikingly thick and black. Though the woman undoubtedly knew how to primp, she appeared to be makeup free. As a rule, djinn were a good-looking race. This female was a few orders above that already high standard.