by Sabrina York
Marie pushed open the door and peeped in. Her eyes widened when she saw Aimalee in Keeshan’s arms but she didn’t make a comment. She merely cleared her throat and said, “Your sister is here to see you, sir.”
“Your sister!” Aimalee gaped at Keeshan. “She’s here?”
He nodded. She noticed tiny tears lurking on his lashes. Tears of joy. “Yes, Aimalee. She’s here with us as well.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, Marie. What are you waiting for? Bring her in. I can’t wait to meet her.”
Marie nodded and ducked back out of the room.
Aimalee shot a brilliant smile at the man she loved. “We are together again. Both you and Lisette are free of the Dark Djinn. Oh, Keeshan, is it finally over?”
“No, my dearest,” he said, bending down to kiss her once more. “It has only just begun.”
Epilogue
Far from the world, in a palace obscured from human sight by a magic older than time, the Great Djinn reclined on her lush divan and gusted a great sigh.
Her devoted servant, the ever-vigilant Rorrim, shimmered into human form and stepped forward to offer her a chalice of cold wine. She nodded to a platter of fruit and cheese and he brought it to her as well. He watched her as she ate, sipped, awaiting her slightest command.
Setting down the chalice, she sighed once more. “So, Rorrim. A happy ending after all.”
He dipped his head to hide his smirk, a grin of pure delight. “We knew Sir Keeshan would figure it out.”
Nonchalantly, she fluffed out the foamy pouf of material covering her slender arms. “Eventually.”
“I am surprised you let him go, my mistress.”
She glanced at him then, her gaze a weight on his soul. “Sir Keeshan broke the enchantment, Rorrim. Fair is fair.”
“But he was your favorite entertainment.”
“Yes. He was delicious. But I can still watch him.” Her lips twitched. “Never say you are jealous, Rorrim.” She patted his thigh. He shivered. “You are one of my favorites too.”
He cleared his throat in an effort to dislodge a growing annoyance. “For which I shall be ever grateful, my mistress.”
The Great Djinn sent him a charming, playful smile. “Besides, I am a firm believer that a punishment should fit the crime.”
It was all Rorrim could do to contain his growl at that dig. She had been punishing him, tormenting him far longer than his simple trespass should warrant. “And did Sir Keeshan’s punishment fit the crime?”
“Hardly. Duvalli far overstepped his boundaries.” She arranged her skirt now, a transparent effort to call his attention to her legs. They were lithe and long. And he looked.
“Yet you allowed it.”
She shrugged insouciantly. “Free will.”
Rorrim merely snorted. Free will indeed.
“Come, my darling. Give me a massage.”
Obediently he stepped behind her and set his fingers to her shoulders, kneading, working her. Her skin was warm and velvety smooth. He shuddered.
“S-so what do you intend to do with Duvalli?” Now that Sir Keeshan was free of the lamp, the Dark Djinn had no purpose in this realm.
She picked up a hand mirror, observing her flawless reflection. He was certain she was observing him too. “Oh, he shall suffer.”
As did all men in her auspices. “I should think he’s suffered enough. Two thousand years without the ultimate fulfillment?” A man could only take so much. And Rorrim should know.
“He’s the one who brought that on by kidnapping and enslaving an innocent woman.”
“So you will keep him entombed?”
She tossed her head back and laughed, a melody. “Don’t be silly. I will release him.”
Rorrim paused in his ministrations. “I thought you wanted him to suffer.”
“Oh, he’ll suffer.” She waved him back to work. “The idiot is besotted with Lisette.”
How true. Pity the man besotted with a woman who did not see him. “So you’re going to release him?”
“Precisely. Send him out into the world. With the knowledge that if he does not find her—and win her—in this lifetime, he will lose her forever.”
“Forgive me, my mistress…”
“Yes?”
“But that doesn’t sound like you.”
She chortled. “Quite right. I intend to send him out into the world with the knowledge that if he does not find her—and win her—in this lifetime, he will lose her forever…and the knowledge that if he fucks another woman, any woman, I will personally assure he never finds her.”
“And?”
She dipped her head. “And…Lisette will not remember him.”
“Ah. That’s more like it.” Rorrim gently pushed her forward and began rubbing the tight muscles of her back. “I, for one, shall miss them. They’ve been great entertainment during my captivity.”
“Mmm. A little harder.” She tipped her head “There.” And then, “Never say I have not kept you entertained.”
“Mistress. You are always entertaining. But you are occupied with other matters much of the time.”
She disengaged, frowned at him. “Are you pouting?”
“I simply thought that I would have more of your time.”
“You’ve been my servant for four thousand years. Surely that is time enough for any man.”
“Closer to five. And not nearly enough. Not with you.”
She grinned and rose, paced over to the billowing curtains opening to the grand balustrade, the bells around her ankles jangling in a seductive harmony. Teasing him. Teasing his sanity. She struck a pose against a pillar, glancing at him from beneath lush lashes. “Dear Rorrim, you should not have made that wager in the first place. You most certainly should not have lost it.”
He pretended to tidy some vials, uneasy with the direction the conversation had taken, with what his expression might reveal. He heard her return to the room, to the bed and his body tightened. Slowly, he turned. She had draped herself across the velvet coverlet, the diaphanous froth of her gown barely concealing her curves.
She lifted a lithe leg and wiggled her toes at him. The bells around her ankles danced.
He arched a brow, pretending indifference. He always did. It was better this way. “Another foot rub, my mistress?”
“Whenever I wish. Remember?”
Oh. He remembered. “When I made that wager, I had no idea how demanding you would be.”
She sat up and surveyed him, tapping her lush lip with a painted nail. “I have been wondering, Rorrim. Why did you make that wager? It was truly a stupid move. You were bound to lose.”
He took in this vision, the beautiful, effervescent woman sprawled across an enormous, comfortable bed and his passion stirred. Stirred in a way she had not allowed for several millennia. But her hold on him was loosening. He could sense it. Soon the beast within him, the true man, would be unleashed. She did not realize this, did not sense the shifting sinews of sortilege. But he did…
“Well?”
He stepped closer, drawn by her power, her beauty, her soul. “Don’t you know?”
She shook her head. Her curls jounced.
“I made the wager because I knew I would lose.”
“What?”
He stepped closer still. “I wanted to lose.”
“You wanted to serve me for five thousand years?” She gaped at him. Even in that, she was beautiful.
“Oh yes.”
“Why?”
In response, he sat on the bed and took her beautiful foot in his hand. He explored her with leisurely strokes and then set the elegant creation to his mouth and nibbled on her toes. She shivered and shook. Her expression became dewy.
“Really, Delilah. Don’t you know?” She started when he used her given name. But he noticed she did not protest. He lowered his head and traced her arch with his tongue. She warbled a moan. “I would do anything to be near you.”
“Even serve as my mirror?”
“Even
serve as your slave.”
“But you’ve been bored? As my slave?” Was that a pout on her luscious lips?
“I never said I was bored.” He ran a finger between her toes and watched her squirm.
She tugged her foot from his grasp, uncomfortable, perhaps, with his expanding passion, his power, with the rising wreath of excitement in the room. She made her way back to the divan. He followed. Idly, she toyed with the pieces of her game board, which she kept on the side table.
“You should be happy to learn then,” she said, “that the lamp has a new inhabitant for you to torment.”
He chuckled. “I saw. That really was naughty of you.”
“Whatever can you mean? Carter was an absolute pig to Aimalee. And for heaven’s sake, the idiot touched the lamp with his bare hands. What would you expect me to do?”
Rorrim sat down beside her on the divan, a place he was not supposed to sit. The heat of her thigh singed his. Their eyes met.
She looked away.
He hid his smile. “He was quite a pig, I suppose.”
She cleared her throat. Her attention flitted here and there. Anywhere but on the man at her side. Because, sitting by her side, he was a man. Not a slave. She cleared her throat again. “Yes. He was abominable. But nothing a thousand years in the lamp cannot cure.”
“Naturally.”
Her lashes fluttered, fanning her cheeks. “So you don’t mind going back?”
He settled back on the divan, made himself comfortable, not bothering now to hide his dark grin. “Oh, I’m not going back to the lamp.”
“What? B-but you have to.”
“Do I?”
“You’re my slave. Remember? For five thousand years.”
He nodded, capturing her gaze with his own. And he held it, like he’d held her foot, watching her squirm. “It has been five thousand years.”
Her mouth fell open, her cheeks flushed. “No. No. It can’t have been. It can’t have been five thousand years already.”
“But it has been.” With a flourish and a flurry of his own brand of magic, a pleasure so long denied him, he produced the hourglass. Even as she watched, the very last grain of sand fell to meet its brothers at the bottom.
She stared in horror as the truth of it drove home. Her long, elegant throat worked.
“I am no longer your servant, Delilah. No longer compelled to remain here.”
When she finally met his gaze, he was surprised and gratified to see tears lurking on her lashes. “So you’re leaving?” Her voice was small.
“What did you think would happen when my time here was up?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think…”
“You didn’t think the time would come?”
“I-I didn’t think you’d leave.”
He quirked a dark brow. “I’m not a boy, Delilah. Not a mortal you can play with and torment.” He was a Mage in his own right, with powers that at least equaled hers. It was time she remembered that.
Her face fell. “Have I tormented you?”
“Every day.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I didn’t mean to.”
Yes, he was a man who had taken a wager, a wild gamble to win the woman he desired. Now was the moment of truth. Now he would learn if the gamble would pay off.
A silent eternity passed between them. Then she said, so softly, “Don’t go, Rorrim. Please.”
“My name is Wulfric. Remember?”
She blinked.
“Say it.”
“Wulfric.”
“And I’ve had enough of being your servant, Delilah. You want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
“Then it shall be on my terms.”
“And…wh-what are your terms?” He rather liked the way she fluttered. Her fingers, distressing the fabric of her dress, the lashes, uncertain whether to open or close, her heart, in the pulse at her temple. He rather liked her unsure, as she was now. “I think you should be mine.”
“Your…servant?”
He moved closer. She did not retreat. “For five thousand years at least. Maybe longer.”
When he was close enough to take her in his arms, he did and she leaned against him, into him, stoking a fire that had been banked for far too long.
He held her like that for a long while until he could bear the hunger no longer. Then he dipped his head and kissed her lips.
Ah, yes! Bliss.
Sweet, savory sin.
He ached to taste her elsewhere as well. And he would. He had plans for his lady. Five thousand years worth of fantasies to bring to life.
When he lifted his head, she shot a smile at him, wild and wicked and wise.
“I don’t know, Wulfric,” she said, glancing at the game table. “Perhaps we should wager on it…”
About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, writes naked erotic fiction for fans who like it hot, hard and balls-to-the-wall, and erotic romance and fantasy for readers who prefer a slow burn to passion. An award-winning author in multiple genres, Sabrina loves writing hot, humorous stories in all kinds of settings.
Sabrina York welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Sabrina York
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Print books by Sabrina York
Adam’s Obsession
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Lust Eternal
ISBN 9781419945625
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Lust Eternal Copyright © 2013 Sabrina York
Edited by Carrie Jackson
Cover design by Syneca
Cover photography by:Studio10Artur,Lynette, v.s.anandhakrishna/shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication June 2013
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