Forsaken (The Djinn Wars Book 5) (16 page)

Qadim withdrew his hand and went back to eating as if nothing untoward had happened. That seemed like a good idea, so for a few moments they ate in silence as Madison sampled the green rice and the black beans and the calabacitas, all of which were just as amazing as the enchilada. Focusing on the food did help to quench some of the unwelcome heat the djinn’s touch had awakened, although Madison knew the meal was only a stopgap, and that eventually one of them would do or say something to awaken the inferno.

Better to bring up a topic that had nothing to do with either of them. Qadim shouldn’t be too annoyed by her asking about Los Alamos, since she’d flat out told him a few hours earlier that she would never go there. After washing down some more enchilada with another sip of wine, she said, “You mentioned that someone had created a djinn-repelling device. Was he one of the scientists from Los Alamos, or was he another refugee who ended up there?”

That question elicited a lift of the eyebrow, but to her relief, Madison couldn’t see any real annoyance in Qadim’s expression. More like resignation, as if he’d expected her to ask about Los Alamos again even though she’d sworn she had no interest in going there.

“I’m just curious,” she added, and he let out a breath.

“I believe he was one of the scientists at the laboratory there. But I don’t know much more than that.”

“But you were close enough to feel the effects of the device?”

“He built several. One of them ended up in Santa Fe, in the possession of a woman called Julia Innes.”

Something in the way he said her name made warning bells go off in Madison’s mind. There had been just a small pause, accompanied by a certain softening of Qadim’s expression.

“Who was she?”
God, I hope that didn’t sound too desperate….

“One of the survivors from Los Alamos. She was in charge there for a while, but now she is Zahrias al-Harith’s Chosen and lives with him in Santa Fe.

Madison had to take a few seconds to process that statement. From the way Qadim had spoken before, he’d made it sound as if the djinn had been with their Chosen almost since the Heat wiped out most of the population. But this last revelation seemed to indicate that this Julia had become Zahrias’ — whoever he was — Chosen fairly recently.

Which meant…what? That even if you’d been skipped over in the beginning, there might be some hope for you if you met the right djinn?

She didn’t want to acknowledge the hope that blossomed in her at the thought. That seemed to be pushing things way too soon. A few days spent together and a few exchanged kisses were really not enough basis for planning an eternity together. According to Qadim, that was what being Chosen meant — that you’d spend the rest of an unending life with that one djinn, in exchange for which you’d be given everlasting youth and health.

On the surface, that sounded like a pretty good deal. But what if you decided after you’d spent some time with your djinn that he snored or hogged the covers or didn’t laugh at your jokes, or any of the hundred niggling little things that might not seem like such a big deal at the beginning of a relationship but which would be magnified a thousandfold if you had to tolerate them for all eternity? Then it wouldn’t be such a great deal, would it?

She stole a quick glance at Qadim, who was calmly breaking off a piece of sopapilla and then putting honey on top. His expression was almost blank, so she couldn’t read much from his face. Did he even realize that he’d just dropped a bombshell on her?

Apparently not.

Time to leave that little matter aside for now. Maybe at some point she’d get the nerve to ask more questions, but in the meantime Madison thought it was probably better to focus on something else. “So who’s in charge in Los Alamos now?”

“I have no idea.” Qadim set down his half-eaten sopapilla and sent her a quizzical look. “Madison, I don’t wish to force the issue, but I believe you told me earlier that you had no interest in Los Alamos.”

“No interest in going to live there.” Which was true enough, so she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile before she continued, “I suppose I’m just curious about a place where people have managed to survive — humans, I mean, and not djinn or Chosen. How many of them are there?”

“Again, I have no idea. Several hundred?” He shrugged and broke off another piece of sopapilla, but he didn’t eat it. “Possibly a thousand? They were mainly refugees from here in Albuquerque and from Santa Fe, perhaps some from the towns to the north of there. It would have been difficult to travel farther than that without running afoul of the djinn who were hunting them.”

A shudder went through her, and Madison took another swallow of wine. Yes, she could see how that would have been hard. Downright impossible, really. She had to applaud anyone who’d been able to make it to the sanctuary of that mountain town. “The refugees here must have had someone pretty skilled leading them for them to get all that way without being caught.”

Qadim’s mouth twisted. “I suppose you could say he was skilled. He was also a rapist and a murderer.”

Madison’s fingers tightened on the stem of her wine glass. Not sure she’d heard him correctly, she asked, “Excuse me?”

“Richard Margolis, the man who took the refugees from here in Albuquerque up to Los Alamos. Let us just say that the apocalypse did not agree with him.”

“How did you even know him, if he was based in Los Alamos?”

“A long story. For a time, I found him useful, or rather, he managed to accomplish a few tasks that were set before him. After that, though, he proved to be too dangerous, and had to be disposed of.”

Had Qadim just said what she thought he’d said? Madison wasn’t sure whether she should sip some wine to steady her nerves, or whether the alcohol might curdle in her suddenly knotted stomach. “‘Disposed of’?”

For a long moment, Qadim said nothing. He set the remnants of the sopapilla he held down on his plate, then picked up his own glass of wine so he could take a long drink. At last he spoke. “He was dangerous. So I killed him.”

Cold washed over her. She could only sit there, staring at Qadim as he calmly swallowed some more wine, as if he hadn’t just told her that he’d once murdered a human being. Or did the djinn even think of it as murder? Maybe to them, killing an annoying human was no different from swatting a fly.

No, she couldn’t believe that. She was human, and Qadim had held her, kissed her, told her she was beautiful. He’d brought her here and tended to her dislocated shoulder. How could anyone do all those things and still look on a human being as no better than an insect?

“We said there would be no more lies between us,” he went on. His voice was quiet but firm. He obviously could tell that he had shocked her, but it seemed he wouldn’t attempt to deny what he’d done. “Captain Margolis might have been a good man before the Dying changed his world, but somehow I doubt it. At any rate, he was responsible for the death of innocents, and for assaulting a woman. His is not a death that should be mourned.”

The world had changed. Madison knew that. There were no more courts and judges and lawyers, no orderly processes for dealing with someone who crossed over the line. But to know that Qadim had killed someone, even if he thought he was carrying out his own form of frontier justice….

“What about the djinn who are murderers?” she asked then, and Qadim tensed.

“What do you mean?”

“There are djinn who are responsible for killing millions — no,
billions
of innocent people. Will they ever face any kind of justice?”

“That is different.”

“Different how?”

“Madison — ”

She couldn’t look at him directly. She wasn’t sure if that was because she couldn’t bear to see him, now that he’d revealed he had blood on his hands, or because she was afraid if she met his eyes, she’d soften, find some way to rationalize what he’d done.

In the next instant, he had set down his wine glass and was kneeling on the carpeted floor next to her. His hands went to hers, and he tugged on them so she had no choice but to shift on her chair so she was more or less facing him.

“My dear,” he said, his tone quiet but intense. The impulse she’d had to pull her fingers from his grasp died suddenly. His dark eyes were latched on hers, imploring. “I have already told you that I had no part in unleashing that vile disease. Neither did I participate in the hunt for survivors that took place after the Heat had done its work. What I did to Margolis — it was necessary, like putting down a mad dog. Would you have thought it better if he lived to continue violating women, or killing those who had done nothing wrong, save to oppose him?”

Those words made sense. Too much sense, really. “No,” she said at last. “I understand why you did what you did. I just wish the djinn I watched massacre people in the streets of Albuquerque could face their own justice.”

Qadim rose to his feet, bringing her with him. Suddenly, his arms were around her, and she felt his warm, heavy hand stroking her hair. “I know,” he murmured. “I know. There are others who feel the same way. But we are in the minority, I fear. All I can do is make sure that you are safe. And I will.”

There was such a fierceness to his tone that she had to look up at him. His mouth was set, almost angry, but she could also see the glow in his eyes as he stared down at her. That glow awakened the heat in her body, and her mouth parted.

That was all the invitation he apparently needed. Before she could even pull in another breath, his lips had caught hers, and they were locked together, their kiss almost despairing, as if they both understood that they needed this connection to make any sense of their world.

Then his arms were around her, and he was lifting her as if she weighed nothing, sweeping her off the floor just before the restaurant disappeared around them. Less than the blink of an eye, and he was laying her down on a large bed in a room she’d never seen before but knew must be the penthouse suite Qadim had been occupying. In one corner, a kiva-style fireplace flickered with light, logs burning happily away in the hearth.

But that was the only impression she was able to get, because then Qadim’s mouth fastened on hers again, his hands moving over her body. She had it easier than he did, because his open robe allowed her to reach beneath it to touch his bare flesh, to feel those hard muscles under her fingertips.

Something else was hard, too. His arousal was plain enough through the lightweight trousers he wore. She moved one hand downward to touch him, and he let out a hissing gasp of breath, right before he grasped the neckline of the fitted tunic she wore and tore it away.

Madison made a sound of protest — not because she wanted him to stop, but because she hated to see something so lovely ruined.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered in her ear. “I can get you another one just like it. But it was in the way.”

And he bent so he could brush his lips over her breast, take her nipple into his mouth. Any further objections faded away at once, and she reached up to wrap her arms around the back of his neck, to hold him close. The heat between her legs flared again, pulsing with need.

Had he sensed it? She couldn’t know for sure, but a second later his fingers caught at the drawstring for her pants and yanked it loose, then grabbed her underwear and the trousers at the same time and pulled them down. Now she was completely naked in front of him, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was for him to be as revealed to her as she was to him.

She grasped his robe and drew it off, tossing it to land on one of the suite’s side chairs. His pants also had a drawstring, and she pulled it so they came free. Getting them off him was more difficult, since she had to ease them down past his erection. And God, he was huge. Yes, he was a big man, more than six and a half feet tall, but….

Qadim didn’t give her a chance to inspect his proportions any more closely, because he moved from suckling her breast to kissing his way down her stomach, moving lower and lower.

He wasn’t…?

Oh, yes, he was. She gasped, then moaned as his tongue touched her, as he explored her with his mouth. Yes, of course she’d done this before, but this was the first time when it felt as if a man was actually making love to her with his tongue, rather than performing an act he knew he must do in order to be fair to his partner. Qadim wasn’t being fair…he was just hungry.

And God, the sensation of his long hair falling against her, brushing the sensitive flesh at the inside of her thighs. Already the orgasm was building, warm pulses of pleasure throbbing in her very core. She wasn’t sure why she should be surprised by that; it had been a very long time.

Then the climax burst through her, and she cried out, hoarse animal sounds that might have embarrassed her once, except she knew Qadim didn’t care, that he reveled in the way he’d made her feel, because he didn’t stop right away, kept caressing her with his tongue until another, smaller tremor went through her. And then he was kissing her belly again, moving up to her breast, his mouth closing on her once again. She sighed, eyes shutting as the afterglow swept over her. But no, she wanted her eyes open. She wanted to see him.

He was there, his dark, hungry gaze fixed on her face, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.

“I want,” she began, her voice a hoarse whisper.

“What do you want, darling?”

“I want you in me.”

A low growl escaped his throat, and then he gave her a slow, lascivious smile. “If you wish.”

He was pressed against her. She reached down and took him in her hand, feeling the heavy heat of his shaft, the way her fingers couldn’t even close around him. Maybe at some other time she would have worried about taking him into her, but she knew right then that it didn’t matter, that everything would be just fine.

A slight shift in their positions, and then he was pushing in, filling her. She gasped again, reveling in the sensation of him going ever deeper, joining their bodies with an inevitability that made her almost want to weep. Had it ever been this good — the magnificent weight of his body pressed against her, the slow rocking motion that seemed to light up a new set of nerve endings with every thrust?