Lust Eternal

by Sabrina York

  He led her over to the balustrade and gestured toward the stone stairs curling down the cliff. “In addition to the seven rooms, there is the garden tier below and farther down, the beach. You are welcome to make yourself at home here. However you wish. If there is anything you desire, you need only ask and the lamp will provide.”

  “And if I ask to go home?”

  He merely smiled sadly in response. That was one request the lamp would not grant. The gods knew he had asked often enough.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Keeshan emerged from the mirror room after another frustrating session to find Aimalee had awoken and was no longer in the sleep chamber.

  Though he’d only been away from her a few hours, a great hunger for her presence stirred within him. Oddly enough it wasn’t a physical desire. No, this was a longing seated deep in his soul. To hear her voice, her laugh. To see her smile.

  Anxiously, anticipation trilling within him, he set out on a hunt for her. There were only a few places she could be. He poked his head into the bathing room, the playroom and the library to no avail so he headed for the garden.

  He found her there, in the lovely lace dress, sitting by the fountain, trailing her fingers in the sparkling water. Her back was to him but that didn’t mitigate the snarl of attraction rumbling through him. Everything about her fascinated him, entranced him. The way she held her head, the elegant drift of her hand through the fountain’s waterfall, the way the tendrils of her hair fluttered in the breeze—threads of gold, lifting and dancing in the sunlight.

  Her entire being, her aura, her soul, captivated him.

  He watched her in silence, emotions waffling between desire and guilt for that desire. Neither were new to him, nor was the conflict they engendered. The magic of the lamp, the nature of his curse made certain he wanted every woman who came to him. Made certain he could not resist her allure.

  The guilt, however, was his own. He carried it with him always.

  He’d suffered this conflict for nearly two thousand years, fresh in his heart with every woman, with every visit.

  But why now, why this time, why, with Aimalee was this familiar tension so much more intense?

  Could it be that attraction to her was real and not a construct of the Dark Djinn’s sortilege? He brushed the thought away. The implications were far too disturbing.

  “Aimalee.”

  At the sound of his voice, she stilled then slowly turned. His heart clenched at the sight of tears on her cheeks. Damn it all. She’d been crying. Pain twanged in his chest.

  He ignored it.

  He hunkered down beside her and dabbed away the dampness with a thumb. “Why are you crying?”

  She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not.” He sat on the lip of the fountain next to her, drew her into his arms and cradled her. Together they watched the play of sunlight dance through the burbling waters. She felt so good in his arms. That was, until she began to sob. Her entire body rocked with it. “Aimalee. It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

  She peeped up at him and his heart contracted at her expression. So beautiful. So sad. “It’s just… This isn’t a dream, is it?”

  He pulled her closer. “No. It’s not.” How he wished it were something other than what it was.

  “I thought I could pretend this was all a hallucination but I can’t. It’s too…real.”

  “Did you enjoy our lovemaking?” Why he awaited her answer so, heart in his throat, he could not explain.

  “Yes,” she said but this confession triggered a new wash of tears.

  Keeshan snorted a laugh but there was no humor in it. Exasperation perhaps. Befuddlement. Frustration. “Why does that make you cry?”

  “I’m not crying.”

  Even as she spoke the words, fresh tears puddled and streamed down her cheeks. Keeshan knew enough about women to suspend logic in such times. Instead he cuddled her and reveled in the press of her body against his, her lingering scent. Unbidden, his arousal stirred. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  She buried her face in his shoulder. “I want to go home.”

  Keeshan stilled. Forced himself to relax.

  He reminded himself that she could not go home on a whim. That she could not leave him now. She would have to wait until the lamp released her. He pressed that sudden, irrational panic away and buried his nose in her hair. Silken. Fragrant.

  “It’s just not right, Keeshan, being here with you. Wanting this.”

  “Ah.” Yes. He recognized her struggle. He’d known it himself. He propped his chin on the top of her head and let the silence enrobe them. Then, “He’s not worthy of you, Aimalee.”

  She went rigid in his arms. “He?”

  “Carter.”

  Was it possible for a woman to bristle like a hedgehog? She did. Then she disentangled from his embrace, scooted a foot or so away and stared at him, astonishment and a hint of trepidation in her eyes. “You know about him?”

  He nodded. “The mirror showed me much to prepare me for your coming. I know about him. I know everything. He is not worthy of you.”

  Aimalee snorted a laugh. “Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  She bristled. “He is a wonderful man. And a great lover.”

  “He is not.”

  She flushed. Her lips trembled. “You didn’t…watch…that? Did you? Oh my God. How mortifying.”

  Keeshan chuckled. “Indeed not.” That would have been true torture.

  “Then how do you know what kind of lover he is?”

  “The measure of a man, of a lover, is not only what happens in the bedroom, Aimalee. Carter was distant and apathetic about your relationship in public. How could he be any different in private? And—” Keeshan bit his tongue. Yes. There was more. But he would not tell her.

  Fortunately, Aimalee didn’t notice his hesitation. She fashioned the long strands of her hair into a loose braid. “That’s hardly the point.” She glared at him. “I dislike being your sexual slave.”

  He arched a brow. “You are hardly my slave.”

  “I am if you can make me want you. Against my will.”

  Keeshan’s brows came together. He did not care for that thought in the least. “It was hardly against your will.”

  “I didn’t want to want you. You made me.”

  A creeping discomfort edged its way into his gut. He knew the incantation made a woman helpless to resist him. He’d never thought of it as forcing her to want him. How many times had he done that over the millennia? Without thought? Without reflection? Heat prickled at the back of his neck.

  “I’m sorry.”

  What else was there to say? He was powerless, unmanned. All at sea.

  “But it’s not just Carter. I miss my home, my friends and, oh, I miss my work. I was ‘thisclose’ to presenting my dissertation.” She held her fingers up a tiny bit apart. “I worked on that paper, on that research for years. It’s always been my dream to get my doctorate in antiquities and just when that dream is about to come true, I get snatched away. Do you know how hard it is to be ripped away from everything that’s familiar? Everything you’ve worked for? Everything you’ve built?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

  “Oh.” Her brow wrinkled. She cupped his cheek. It took everything in him not to melt into her. He needed to be strong. For her. For him. For his own sanity. “Of course you do. You lost her. I’m so sorry.”

  His heart gave a little hiccup and his strength failed. He pressed a kiss on her palm then snaked an arm around her waist. She was too difficult to resist. Impossible to resist. “Not to worry. I am used to it. I have been here for a very long time. But Aimalee, please know I cannot release you. I cannot send you home.”

  “You can’t?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever wanted to release a woman?” She peered up at him through a curtain of golden hair.

  He laughed. “No.” />
  “So you’ve never tried?”

  “Aimalee, the lamp will release you when it is time.”

  She frowned, a pout. “And when will it be time?”

  But he did not answer.

  He could not.

  For he did not know how long he would have her.

  Chapter Seven

  Aimalee settled back, back into Keeshan’s arms, delighting in the power of those bands of steel wrapped around her, strong and warm and gentle all at the same time. She closed her eyes and drew in the perfume of his garden, listened to the drone of bees as they flitted from flower to flower.

  Yes, there was guilt. First of all for being here, for not being there to do her job, for letting everyone down at the most important phase of her career. And probably most significantly, there was her guilt over enjoying this time with Keeshan. She hadn’t always enjoyed being with Carter. He made her feel unworthy somehow. Unattractive but functional, like a cog in his grand machine. Whereas Keeshan made her feel important. At home, comfortable in her skin. Happy to be who she was.

  And he made her feel other things too.

  Perhaps it was the magic of this realm—wherever it was—or perhaps it was simply the magic of this man, but when she was with him, Aimalee felt desired and protected and as though everything was simply right with the world.

  Besides, according to Keeshan she was here until the lamp—some inscrutable cosmic decision maker—decided she could go. She might as well make the best of it.

  She would think of it as a vacation. Yes. A lovely vacation in a tranquil resort with the most delicious, seductive lover at her every beck and call. She giggled and his arms tightened a bit. She snuggled deeper, enjoying the lick of the sun on her skin, the thrum of his heart against her cheek.

  “Tell me about this place.”

  He stiffened at her request but then he sighed and the tightness dissolved. “It is my prison.”

  Aimalee glanced up at him. Dear heavens. What a handsome face. Though pain etched every line. “Your prison?” She offered a smile but he didn’t respond in kind. Her heart contracted and she nestled her head back into his shoulder. “What did you do to deserve prison?”

  He pressed his lips tight. At long last he sighed and said, “I angered a very powerful man.”

  “So he sent you here?”

  “He condemned me to this place, yes.”

  She grinned. “It is rather lavish for a prison.”

  Keeshan’s laugh was harsh. “There are many kinds of torment. The least of them is austerity. In truth, I would have preferred a short stay in a wretched dungeon or a quick end to a miserable life.”

  “Have you been here very long?”

  He made a little sound in his throat, a growl perhaps, and bent his head to capture the sensitive flesh of her neck between his lips. He sucked and a twang of arousal shot through her. She wriggled against him in protest—which was really something less than an objection—so he made his way up her abdomen to cup her breast, thumb a nipple. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  She captured his hand with her own. “I do. How long have you been here?”

  He buried his nose in her hair and breathed deeply. “Too long.” His lips trailed over her shoulder to the back of her neck. Shivers of delight skittered down her spine.

  “How long?”

  “Aimalee. Please do not ask about this.”

  She could sense his resolve, see it in his lips, his eyes. Still, she scooted out of reach and frowned at him determinedly. “I want to know.”

  He followed. “Aimalee, I want you. I need you. I’ve been without a woman for far too long.”

  She blew out a laugh and edged away again. “You just had a woman. Just a little while ago. Remember?”

  “Oh, I remember.” Again he followed her, pursuing her around the fountain. “But the spell…it rides me. As long as you are near, I am compelled to want you.”

  A sudden hard and heavy ball dropped into her gut and the game lost all its appeal. Aimalee stood, stepped away and glared at him.

  Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did she have to want him like this? All his enticing words and tempting seductions served but one purpose.

  His release.

  Nothing more.

  Nothing romantic or meaningful or lasting. They certainly didn’t spring from some soul-deep connection. She was an idiot for even imagining that.

  His brow, that beautiful brow, furrowed. He stood as well and stepped closer.

  She placed a palm on his chest—ignoring the wicked warmth of his slick skin—and pushed. He was far stronger than she, could easily have overpowered her pathetic resistance. But he didn’t. He stepped back the length of her arm but only that far.

  She choked back something suspiciously like a sob.

  “Aimalee? What is it?”

  “It’s not really me you want, Keeshan.” The truth of the matter was—no matter how wanted he managed to make her feel—he didn’t really want her. It was all the damn spell. He just needed a female to ease his hunger. Any female would do. She should have known. She should have seen it.

  “What?”

  “You said as much yourself. The spell makes you want me. I could be any woman.” She strolled to the balustrade but it was more to create distance than to enjoy the view. He trailed in her wake. “You would want any woman so long as she was here.”

  “Not like this!” His frown darkened. “I have never wanted a woman like this.”

  “Liar.”

  He reeled back as though she’d slapped him. “I’ve done many things in my life, Aimalee, of which I am ashamed. But I have never lied. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

  She rounded on him, arms crossed over her chest, quivering with outrage and, to be truthful, not a small amount of pain. “You always tell the truth?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then tell me what you did that angered that powerful man.”

  Keeshan paled.

  “Who was he?”

  His lips worked as though he needed to build up the fortitude to utter the name hovering on his tongue. At long last, he said, “Duvalli. The Dark Djinn.”

  Aimalee gasped. “The Dark Djinn? From the Ashkahnary Fable?” It was a famous tale from ancient Arkett, of a poor and humble man who had unwittingly discovered the scrolls of the Great Ashkahnary Wizard in the desert. He had sacrificed all—even his family—to become the most powerful magician of his time. According to the fable, the power had corrupted his soul. He had become dark. Evil. Irredeemable.

  Keeshan scrubbed his face with a palm. “It is no fable.”

  Aimalee stepped closer, suddenly fascinated. The study of ancient Arkett was her passion. Like the mythic Atlantis, archeologists and historians enjoyed debating the existence of the desert country that had ruled the pre-ancient world. And since little evidence other than anecdotal scrolls had been found, most assumed it was merely a myth.

  But in a recent dig, Aimalee had found the site, excavated and recovered key artifacts proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Arkett had existed. She’d written a dissertation to prove it. The myth of the Dark Djinn—the man who ruled the empire with an iron fist and whose wrath over an unforgivable betrayal had caused the great sandstorm that consumed the entire civilization in minutes—had not been included.

  “Have you met him? This Dark Djinn?”

  Keeshan scowled. “Why are you so fascinated?”

  Aimalee shrugged. “I’ve studied him. He is interesting.”

  He paled. Right down to his lips. “He is evil, Aimalee. Do not even think about him.”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “You should be.”

  “Does he ever come here?”

  “No. I am far too insignificant.”

  “Not so insignificant that he forgot about your transgression. What was it that you did again?”

  He glowered. “No. He has not forgotten about me. He never will. And while
he doesn’t come here, I am occasionally called to have an audience with him.”

  “Really?” She tipped her head to the side. “What’s he like?”

  “You do not want to meet him.”

  “I kind of do.”

  Keeshan lurched forward and grabbed her by both shoulders, yanking her closer. Heavens. Was that panic in his eyes? “Don’t say that. Please. You do not want to come to his attention. He would destroy you.”

  His intensity gave her pause. If the Dark Djinn did exist—as Keeshan claimed—and if he had the power to destroy a civilization within minutes, he was a force to be reckoned with.

  She knew she was allowing the image of this fanciful creature to overshadow the bald truth. The Dark Djinn had way too much power and he was not a nice guy. She probably didn’t want to meet him.

  “Is he truly all-powerful?”

  “No one is all-powerful. Even the Dark Djinn answers to someone.”

  “And who does he answer to?”

  Keeshan shrugged and glanced away.

  “Who?”

  “The Great Djinn.”

  “The Great Djinn of Ashkahnary?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you ever met him?”

  His response was a barked laugh. “No one meets the Great Djinn of Ashkahnary.”

  “But he is all-powerful?”

  “I don’t know if he is all-powerful but he is pretty damn powerful.”

  “He could send me home.”

  “Yes.”

  “He could send you home.”

  “I no longer have a home.”

  “What?”

  He raked his hair. “Every person I knew died two thousand years ago. Every building I ever stepped into has long since crumbled into sand. Coasts have washed away. Hilltops have flattened. What is home, other than that?”

  She reached for him. “Oh, Keeshan. I am so sorry.”

  “Don’t.” He frowned. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I cannot bear it.”

  “Tell me what you did.”

  He turned his back on her in favor of the dark shadow of his memory. His heartbeat pulsed in the silence between them. After a long pause he said in a small voice, “I don’t want to tell you.”