Last Wish

by Shelley Munro

  “That’s good. Your wish worked.”

  “Yeah.” Dillon went first and hoped like hell Zane followed him. The need to toss his lover over his shoulder and run to a place of safety beat at him. His hands clenched and unclenched. Even though his instincts roared, he resisted touching and kept his tongue fiercely guarded. Now wasn’t the right time to exert dominance. The stress was getting to both of them and attempts to order Zane around weren’t welcome at present.

  Zane followed Dillon from the classroom, indignant thoughts running through his head while his gut churned with anxiety because of the merc-magick’s presence and worries about his approaching freedom. He wasn’t Dillon’s damned slave. The only person he needed to please was himself. It seemed the human didn’t understand this concept and desired control over every facet of his life. Dillon wanted a genie without the magic. Someone to carry out his every order without demure.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  Dillon held the outer door open for him, and he stepped outside into the night.

  Freedom.

  Damn, he could taste it in the swirl of the capricious breeze across his scalp. He could smell it in the warm scent of Dillon’s aftershave. Only three full days to go now and excitement and wonder pulsed through him. His indignation at his lover started to seep away. Stress was making him ultra-sensitive and very anxious. He had to keep a lid on his panic. He could do this.

  No other genie had retained their freedom for this long, not in recent years. That in itself was encouraging. Yearning and determination bolstered him, driving away the final traces of his irritation at the human. Dillon was anxious because he cared. Zane knew he could do this and savored his quiet confidence. Most genies gave up all thoughts of freedom because they couldn’t bear, couldn’t fathom the lack of magic that gradually came as a result of liberty and independence. They equated magical power with worth. Zane knew better.

  Magic didn’t make a man or genie.

  The measure of a real man was in the way he treated others. It was inside him, etched into his character.

  He intended to be a good man.

  “There’s that damned merc-magick,” Dillon muttered, coming to a sudden halt.

  “Keep moving,” he said, nudging Dillon sharply in the middle of his back when he didn’t move. What was wrong with him? He was acting strangely tonight. No doubt he was feeling the stress of the situation too, but the last thing they wanted was to draw attention. A little staring was good, since the locals stared at strangers. What wasn’t good were the traces of fear and worry the human showed each time they were near the merc-magick.

  Dillon finally picked up the pace, striding over to where they’d parked the bike. After fastening his helmet, he passed him the other one and straddled the bike, kicking it off its stand. Zane watched the entire time, his heart sprinting into a racy beat. Damn, the human was good to watch with his long legs, tight butt and easy strength. A pity he tended toward bossy at times. Although Zane had to admit, sometimes bossy was good. He certainly didn’t mind handing Dillon responsibility for their pleasure, but he had to realize that outside the bedroom he made his own decisions. Seconds later the bike roared to life and Dillon glanced impatiently over his shoulder to see what was keeping him. Zane scowled back before he realized he was doing it again. Overreacting to Dillon’s words and actions. He knew Dillon cared for him—he’d proved it over and over. Zane inhaled deeply, struggling to control his wayward emotions. Deep breaths. The sooner his ten days were up the better because then they could both relax.

  Slowly Zane straddled the bike and cozied up to him. His cock filled, pushing insistently against the fly of the black jeans he wore. At the jolt of sensual pleasure some of his angst faded. Three more days to go then the future stretched before him full of possibilities. He’d find a job, buy a house with some of the treasure he’d stashed in an offshore account—thanks to online banking—and act like a regular human.

  They left the well-lit inner town for the quiet country roads where the bike’s headlight pierced the darkness. He leaned into a corner, appreciating the play of Dillon’s muscles beneath his hands. His cock reared again as the thought of hard-riding sex and the resulting pleasure filled him. Since they were almost back at the house, he let his hands wander from the human’s hips. Well, lookee, lookee. He wasn’t the only one with sex on his mind.

  Dillon pulled up in his driveway with a shriek of brakes. Zane scrambled off the back and took off his helmet, a smile playing across his lips while hunger had his erection at almost full stretch. Despite his snappiness tonight, he desired Dillon, still wanted his body and the pleasure he knew would come.

  The throb of the bike cut off and Dillon kicked the stand into place before standing. After dragging off his helmet and placing it on the bike seat, he prowled toward him, his intentions evident in the slash of arousal glittering in his dark brown eyes. Zane stood his ground, heart pounding with a burst of adrenaline. He had an absurd desire to run but reined in the need, waiting for his lover to make the first move. Heat suffused his body while each breath came in a soft pant.

  “Tease,” Dillon muttered, seconds before his mouth slammed down on his.

  His arms went around Dillon and he accepted the harsh almost brutal kiss, glorying in the power that burst to life between them. Despite his resentment regarding the orders Dillon issued at times, he liked this man. Really liked this man. When the kiss gentled, they started to lazily rock against each other, groin brushing groin. Teasing. Driving them both higher. At the back of his pleasure-filled mind, Zane wondered how he’d manage to let go in three day’s time. He’d never felt this way about another man before.

  Chapter Seven

  One Day to Freedom

  Zane woke with a feeling of acute exhilaration fizzing through his body. One day. One day left. For fleeting seconds he savored the warmth of Dillon’s arms and legs wrapped around him and wondered about waking the sleeping man. In the end he decided not to. They’d played long and late into the night and Dillon looked exhausted with faint bruises beneath his eyes. The red marks on his lover’s neck brought a grin. He liked the look of his mark on the golden skin. His man. Still grinning, he edged away before bounding to his feet. He’d make coffee and maybe sit outside to drink it, enjoying the morning sun on his bare chest and the bite of the fresh air. Zane tugged on a pair of faded jeans and ran his hand across the top of his head, still surprised by the bristly sensation of his hair. He quite liked the new look even though his lover mourned the loss of his long locks. The stubble on his jaw matched that on his head. One thing he didn’t like about the non-magical world was the need to shave. Perhaps he’d grow a beard then he’d really look like a pirate.

  In the kitchen, he set the electric coffee grinder whirring, enjoying the scent of rich beans filling the air. He took great pleasure in performing the everyday human tasks—filling the coffeemaker with water, measuring the ground beans into the filter and pressing the button to start the water dripping through the machine. Dillon said the novelty would wear off and he’d become tired of performing mundane tasks, but he didn’t think so. There was a soothing familiarity about the tasks that made him feel human and part of the community because he knew others carried out the same everyday chores.

  “Hey.” Dillon appeared in the kitchen wearing jeans for a change. They rode low on his hips, the fly zipped but the top button still loose. With the light shining through the windows behind him, his skin appeared glinted with gold. Zane’s breath caught and his body reacted in the typical way, his cock jerking to life. A slow grin tugged at his lips. Dillon looked good enough to eat. Maybe a few more strategic bites would ease the sudden hunger.

  “Hey yourself,” he replied, hearing the telltale huskiness in his voice and seeing the resulting glint in his lover’s eyes. A sudden longing for total freedom assailed him—the ability to spend every minute of every day doing whatever he felt like. It was a treasure, one that was difficult to imagine or to explain
to a human who’d never been forced to do anything against his will. Dillon didn’t understand the depths of his craving for freedom. How could he? One more day. His breath eased out slowly as he attempted to control his excitement, the need to whoop and holler and dance about. Now wasn’t the time. Tomorrow…yeah, tomorrow he’d celebrate for sure. “The coffee is on.”

  “So I see.” Dillon prowled across the cream-tiled floor to him, his brown eyes glinting with determination. “Do I get a morning kiss?”

  “Sure thing, but just a kiss right now. I’m starving. I won’t be worth a bean until I refuel with food.”

  Dillon smirked. “I could change your mind.”

  “You could, but you’d have to do all the work this time.” While he liked ceding control to the human in the bedroom, it had felt good topping for once. What he appreciated more was Dillon’s willingness to give and take, to treat him as an equal. It meant a lot to him. He laughed inwardly—at least when he wasn’t stressing out and accusing his lover of things that weren’t true.

  “Fine with me. I’m pretty hungry myself.”

  Zane closed the remaining distance between them, wrapped his arms around Dillon and kissed him slowly. Tenderly. Their lips barely touched but that merest connection was enough. It made him feel treasured and important, as if he mattered on a personal level rather than for the material wealth he could bestow with his magic. And he appreciated the fact that not once during their time together had Dillon asked for more wishes. Not once. The back of his eyes burned suddenly, a wave of emotion clutching at his heart. He pulled away with a self-conscious laugh, realizing his eyes were full of moisture. Damn, he was going soft. All the sex had turned his brain to mush.

  “I think the coffee is ready.” The last-minute gurgles and splutters from the machine bore out the truth of his words. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, filled them both with steaming hot coffee and handed one to Dillon. He doctored his own with a dash of milk and two spoonfuls of clover honey.

  “It’s your last day,” Dillon said, his tone a little weird and thick with arousal.

  Zane froze, realizing the other man was watching him licking the remains of the honey from the spoon. The innocent act took on sexual overtones and he flung the spoon down and hurriedly picked up his coffee. “Yeah. I’m so excited I could burst.” A flash of heat in his face told him his cheeks had colored while his mind lingered in the gutter along with thoughts of Dillon’s cock and a pot of honey. Unusual. That had never happened before, but then nothing about this day was a rerun. Freedom. Damn. He’d hardly dared to hope.

  “Anything special you’d like to do today?”

  “I thought about going into town but I don’t want to risk running into the merc-magick. Don’t want to push my luck, not today.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Dillon agreed. “I need to do some research. Do you want to come along with me? We could take a picnic lunch.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve set some of my comic in the jungle. I want to go for a bushwalk to get some ideas. I was thinking about creating a rainforest and using New Zealand trees. I won’t use much detail in the final comic but actually seeing a place helps me. If you want to come along, we’ll take the bike and make a day of it. The place I have in mind has a swimming hole.”

  Zane nodded since the idea of being outside in the fresh air and sunshine was one that appealed. One of the things he’d enjoyed most of all was the ever-changing scenery and the freedom to wander as he willed. As a genie he was tied to his teapot with quick jaunts to the outside world. Being constantly on call meant he didn’t have the chance to wander at will and of course, he couldn’t venture too far from his teapot, not with his wristbands in place.

  “It’s a date then,” Dillon said. “I’d better make sure the batteries are charged on my camera.”

  * * * * *

  An hour later they were dressed, food and drink packed in the saddlebags and ready to leave. Dillon handed Zane a helmet and once he’d secured it, he straddled the bike behind his lover. The roar of the bike echoed in his pulse, a blend of banked energy and sharp anticipation of the day to come and the days after—of freedom. The wind tugged at their clothes as they raced along the narrow hedge-lined roads. Dillon took a sharp right onto a rutted dirt track. His teeth rattled and he tightened his grip on Dillon’s waist. Gradually they climbed the hill, speeding through thick bush and sending two foraging goats scattering in fright.

  Finally they burst from the cover of the trees onto the top of the hill. Dillon stopped the bike and switched off the ignition, leaving silence. A vast panorama spread before them—the open area on the hilltop, the thick bush, the farms and town below, and in the distance the glittering blue of the sea. Zane inhaled deeply then sighed with pleasure, positive he could smell the salty tang of the sea on the air.

  “This isn’t where we’re having our picnic but I thought you’d like it. I come up here when I’m having problems with my work. Something about the fresh air and the view helps me nut out story blocks.”

  A tiny burst of pleasure filled him and he leaned forward, plastering his chest against Dillon. “Thanks.” The human treated him as an equal and considered his wants and needs instead of demanding magical wishes. The constant caring…it made his throat tighten, trapping words inside. He pressed a kiss to Dillon’s neck and hugged him tightly. Part of him wanted to stay with Dillon forever, but Zane needed to know real freedom, the kind where he followed his own inclinations and made his own decisions even if they turned out to be mistakes. Yes, he intended to see his lover in the future but independence remained important to him.

  Dillon turned his head to steal a gentle kiss before saying, “You ready to go?”

  “Yeah.”

  They resumed their trip at a slower pace that allowed him to watch their surroundings. When they rode into the bush again, he spied a fantail flitting from branch to branch, chasing insects. He leaned into the turns and gripped Dillon tightly while pressing into his warm body. He’d never felt happier.

  One more day. One more day. The words were a crazy litany playing through his mind in a never-ending circle. In one more day he’d be free.

  Dillon pulled the bike up in a grassy clearing, on the banks of a small stream. A tree festooned with scarlet flowers grew near the water. It was the one called the pohutukawa, New Zealand’s native Christmas tree, according to Dillon. Fallen flower filaments painted the ground red and deadened footfalls. When Zane climbed off the bike, he saw the stream widened to a pool. He glanced back at Dillon and tugged off his helmet. Dillon removed his helmet as well and hung it over the handlebars of the bike.

  He took in the man’s muscular chest and wanted to touch. If anything, his hunger for Dillon had grown. And the pleasure—the pleasure grew more with each encounter. Thoughts of the previous night had his body instantly reacting. “What are you doing first?”

  “I’m going to take some photos then come back, lie in the sun and do some thinking about Maiuku, the tattooed man. I left him in a tight spot and need to get him out of trouble.”

  Zane grinned, knowing Dillon was good at multitasking. He whipped off his boots, socks and T-shirt then unbuttoned his jeans. “I might wait for you here.” After stepping out of his jeans, he tossed them aside and stood naked, letting his lover look his fill.

  “Damn,” Dillon muttered. After hesitating, he grabbed up his camera and marched to the edge of the clearing before stopping. “Don’t start without me.”

  “I might warm up,” he said, dropping his hand to lazily stroke his cock. “Don’t take too long.”

  Dillon snorted. “You need chastising. I let you get away with too much last night and now I’ve created a monster.”

  “When it comes to sex,” Zane agreed. He was stroking himself harder now, turned on by both the perfect stimulation and the knowledge Dillon was watching him.

  “Damn, I have to do this now.” He stepped into the bush. “Have a swim. That will cool
you off. I’ll be back. Expect punishment.” With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving silence behind.

  “Punishment,” Zane whispered while grinning widely. He pulled on his cock while eyeing the spot where Dillon had disappeared. Arousal thrummed like thick syrup through his veins, but although tempted, he eased back on the self-pleasuring. Waiting might hurt a bit but it wouldn’t kill him. It would be better, bigger, with Dillon.

  Zane unloaded the items they’d brought for lunch, stashing them in a cool place. He spread the old blanket beneath the shade of a tree and sprawled out in comfort. His eyes drifted closed.

  Somewhere over to his right, a bird trilled, the high notes ending on a screech. The call repeated before the bird commenced a more lyrical tune. The gentle flow of the water added to the musical song and he drifted close to sleep.

  Without warning the bird stopped mid-bar, the flutter of wings and indignant squawk jerking Zane to full awareness. The sharp crack of a stick brought a grin. Dillon was returning earlier than he’d expected. He sat up and scanned the clearing. Nothing. His eyes narrowed, but slowly his expression cleared. His lover intended to sneak up on him, take him by surprise. He stood, carefully scrutinizing the darker shadows.

  Still nothing.

  “Come out. I know you’re there.”

  “You’ve caught us out,” a deep voice said from behind him.

  An icy chill zapped down Zane’s spine and his gut gave a sickening lurch. It couldn’t be. Slowly, he turned to face the speaker and the fear turned into a terrible reality.

  Hasim.

  Zane took an involuntary step back on seeing the triumphant glitter in Hasim’s dark eyes. For an instant he thought about blinking out but dismissed the idea as hopeless. Hasim would only follow and overpower him with the help of the merc-magicks.

  “How did you find me?” His legs trembled and he glanced left and right, checking for a means of escape. Perhaps he could run? When he spied the merc-magicks standing around the clearing, his shoulders slumped. And maybe not. No, flight wasn’t an option. Damn, he’d been so careful and hadn’t taken big risks. He’d planned his escape and attempt at freedom with as much detail as possible, given his limited resources, but still they’d found him. Shoulders slumped in despair, he swallowed his acute disappointment and looked to the genie boss for answers. “How?”